#i know my answers are long but this is one of those big life decisions

[goldfades]

my boredom's bone deep / this cage was once just fine / am i allowed to cry? / crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox / i'm seeing visions, am i bad? / or mad? or wise? | joe burrow⁹ (part 1/4)

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 12.1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | trapped in a relationship that feels more like a losing game, you find yourself drawn to the one person you shouldn’t want—the one who sees you, the one who listens, the one who makes you feel alive. but temptation is a dangerous thing, and once you’ve had a taste of something real, there’s no going back.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | lots and LOTS of angst, switching between second and third person (it'll make sense and it's only for a couple of scenes where it's needed) slow-burn tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, toxic relationships, manipulation, emotional turmoil, guilt and desire intertwining in the worst ways, heavy themes of self-discovery and repression, morally gray decisions

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | okay guys, i couldn't resist... here is another long ass joe burrow mini-series because taylor swift has struck me with creativity... AGAIN. this will be a 4 parter and it will have a happy ending, but for now... just enjoy the slow burning of it and hate my made-up bengals player -- miles !

You used to think love was supposed to feel like this—steady, predictable, something you could fold into like freshly washed sheets. You and Miles had been together so long that your names practically rhymed in people’s mouths, like you were one of those inseparable, inevitable couples that just made sense.

And for a while, it did make sense. You were the girl on his arm at every event, the perfectly curated extension of his success. The engagement ring—a little too big, a little too heavy—sat on your finger like a trophy of its own. A prize.

But lately, it felt like Miles had stopped seeing you as anything more than that. A fixture in his life, expected and unremarkable. Like the luxury watch he only wore on game days or the expensive car he barely drove. You were always there, always waiting, always his. And he loved that, in the way someone loves knowing their favorite shirt will still be in the closet when they reach for it.

You just weren’t sure you loved it anymore.

The thought made your stomach twist. Because if you weren’t his, then who were you?

And then—Joe Burrow happened.

But, Joe Burrow was not supposed to happen.

Not to you, not to the carefully constructed life you had built around Miles, not to the girl who had spent years perfecting the role of the unwavering, effortlessly beautiful fiancée of an NFL star. But Joe moved through your world like a dropped match in a dry field—quiet, unassuming at first, and then suddenly, everything was on fire.

It wasn’t instant, not in the way stories like this usually go. There was no slow-motion moment, no breath-stealing epiphany. It started subtly, like the shift in seasons, like the way you don’t notice the days getting shorter until you’re standing outside at five o’clock and it’s already dark.

At first, he was just there—new to the team, new to the city, new in a way that made him sharp against the dullness you had started to sink into. You watched as he learned his place in the locker room, the way veterans sized him up, the way he answered with quiet confidence instead of arrogance. He was young but didn’t feel young. Polished, but not in the way Miles was. Miles was effortless charm, all grins and easy words, the kind of man who could shake a hand and win a deal in the same breath.

Joe was something else entirely. He didn’t just talk—he listened.

And that, you realized too late, was dangerous.

Because one night, at some event you barely wanted to be at, standing next to a fiancé who had long since stopped noticing the way your fingers curled anxiously around your champagne glass, Joe looked at you like he saw you. Like he had been watching, waiting, wondering.

And for the first time in years, you felt something shift.

--

Miles had always been the guy. The Bengals’ golden boy, the name fans chanted, the one reporters turned to after every game. When you first met him, he carried himself like a man who had already won. Six years older, already established, already adored—he had that presence, the kind that made people lean in when he spoke, the kind that made you, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, feel lucky just to stand beside him.

But now, there was Joe.

And whether Miles would admit it or not, it was getting to him.

It started small. A lingering glance at the TV when Joe’s highlights played instead of his. A clipped response when someone mentioned Joe’s name at dinner. But then, it became you.

"Do you still think I’m the star?"

The first time he asked, you laughed, thinking he was joking.

But he wasn’t.

You saw it in the way his fingers tightened around his glass, the way his shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact.

"Of course you are," you had said, reaching for his arm, pressing your nails lightly against his sleeve.

And that was all he needed. A little reassurance. A little something to smooth over the edges of his pride. But then he asked again. And again.

"I mean, you don’t think people are, you know… forgetting?"

"You don’t think he’s—" a pause, a swallow, a carefully constructed smirk—"overshadowing me?"

And every time, you lied.

Because what were you supposed to say? That the shift was undeniable? That Joe walked into the locker room and the energy changed? That when people talked about the future of the team, they weren’t saying Miles’ name anymore? That you had started noticing it, too—the way Joe was young, sharp, hungry, while Miles had begun to settle into his success like a man reclining in a chair that used to be upright?

So you told him what he needed to hear.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still everything."

But even as you said it, the words tasted false. Because when Miles spoke about himself, it was always in the past tense—I was the first star, I was the franchise guy, I was the one they built around.

And when people spoke about Joe, it was all about the future.

That was the difference.

And maybe—just maybe—that was what made you start looking at him, too.

You watched it happen in slow motion—the way Miles and Joe orbited each other, circling like two planets on a collision course, neither willing to acknowledge the gravity of the other.

At first, Miles played it cool. He was the veteran, after all. He had been here first. He had built his career brick by brick, through losing seasons and empty stadiums, back when the Bengals were a team people barely bothered to watch. When you met him, that was what he always talked about—the work he had put in, the years of carrying this franchise on his back.

"I made this team what it is," he would say sometimes, stretching out on the couch after a game, watching highlights on TV with a half-smirk, as if waiting for you to agree.

And back then, you did.

Because you had watched him grind, had seen the early mornings, the bruises, the exhaustion that clung to him after every brutal season. You had been his—the girl in the stands, the hand on his chest when he got home, the soft place he could land.

But now, the team didn’t belong to just Miles anymore.

Now, there was Joe. And Miles hated that.

At practice, you saw the way he measured himself against Joe, the way his jokes about the rookie’s "new car smell" had just a little too much bite. How he watched when Joe got called for post-game interviews, jaw clenched just a little too tight.

"They should be talking to me," he muttered one night after a game, dropping his phone on the table like it had personally offended him.

"Miles, they still talk to you," you had tried, voice gentle.

"Not like they used to."

And it was true.

At first, Miles had treated Joe like a little brother, ruffling his hair, giving him shit for his outfits, cracking jokes at team dinners. But then Joe started winning. Started throwing passes that made the crowd gasp, started playing with that quiet confidence that made people lean forward in their seats.

And suddenly, Miles’ jokes didn’t land the same way.

He started pushing harder in practice. If Joe made a good throw, Miles made sure his next one was better. If Joe got interviewed, Miles found a way to insert himself into the conversation. He started pointing out things—"He’s good, but let’s see how he handles the pressure. He’s young. He hasn’t been hit the way I have."

Like he was trying to convince himself of it more than anyone else.

And you—God, you noticed.

You noticed the way Miles had started looking at Joe like a threat instead of a teammate. You noticed the way his hand tightened on your hip when Joe walked into a room. You noticed the way he suddenly started talking about his legacy, about what he meant to this team.

And worst of all—you noticed the way Joe looked at you.

Because unlike Miles, Joe wasn’t trying so hard. He wasn’t overcompensating, wasn’t clawing to prove something. He just was. And when he looked at you, it wasn’t with the expectation that you would tell him he was still the star.

It was like he already knew who he was.

And maybe, for the first time in a long time, you were starting to wonder who you were, too.

--

The event was like every other one before it—too loud, too crowded, filled with people who weren’t actually listening to each other, just waiting for their turn to talk. Miles was somewhere across the room, laughing a little too hard at something an exec said, one hand wrapped around a glass of bourbon, the other resting on the shoulder of someone who mattered.

You were used to this part.

The waiting. The being-seen-but-not-heard. The polite smiles and empty small talk, the way people’s eyes would flicker over you before refocusing on Miles, because that was where the real conversation was.

You had perfected it—the art of looking engaged without actually being included. So when Joe Burrow slid into the seat beside you, you didn’t think much of it. At first.

And then he spoke.

"You always look this bored, or is it just tonight?"

You blinked, thrown off, turning your head to find him watching you. Not in the usual way—not in the quick, cursory glance men usually gave you before looking away, like you were set dressing, like you were just an extension of the man they actually wanted to talk to.

No, Joe was looking at you.

And he was smirking.

You scoffed before you could stop yourself. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. His suit fit well—not flashy, not desperate, just right. Effortless. His tie was loosened, just slightly, like he couldn’t be bothered to play by the rules all the way. "You’ve been staring at the same spot on the floor for the last ten minutes. What’s down there? Something more interesting than all this?"

"Wouldn’t take much."

"Fair." He nodded, like you’d made an excellent point, then stuck his hand out. "Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head. "Funny. You don’t look like you care."

You should’ve laughed. Or brushed him off. But there was something about the way he said it—like he wasn’t trying to be charming, like he was just stating a fact.

You hesitated. Then, almost begrudgingly, shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

"‘I guess,’" he repeated, amused. "Damn. That’s all I get?"

"You want a standing ovation?"

"Wouldn’t say no."

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upward just slightly. He caught it—of course he did—and grinned like he had already won something.

"So, what’s the deal?" he asked, nodding toward where Miles was deep in conversation, gesturing animatedly. "You actually like these things, or just contractually obligated to show up?"

"Contractually obligated," you admitted, swirling the drink in your hand. "You?"

"Nah. I just like free food."

You let out an actual laugh at that, brief but real.

Joe’s smirk deepened like he had been waiting for that exact reaction.

"So how long have you been stuck in the NFL Wife-To-Be role?" he asked, tone light but gaze sharp.

"Long enough."

"And how long is that, exactly?"

"You really want to know?"

"Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t."

You eyed him for a second, waiting for the punchline. The usual "just making conversation" energy you were used to from these kinds of interactions. But there wasn’t one. He actually seemed interested.

"Since I was 19."

His brows lifted slightly. "Damn."

"What?"

"Just young, that’s all."

"And what, you weren’t young once?"

"Not that young," he said, shaking his head. "I was in college at 19. Drinking shitty beer and wearing the same hoodie five days in a row. You were—what? Coming to things like this?"

You shrugged, suddenly a little self-conscious. "It wasn’t that bad."

"Doesn’t sound fun, either."

"And what were you doing at 20 that was so much more fun?"

"Winning a championship," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at him, blinking.

"Oh," you said finally. "Right. LSU."

"Yeah. Ever heard of it?"

"Vaguely."

"Damn. Humbling experience."

You smirked, shaking your head slightly. "Wait, so—how old are you now?"

"Twenty-four."

Your lips parted slightly. "Shit."

Joe raised a brow. "What?"

"You’re only a year older than me."

"And you sound offended by that."

"I’m just—" You exhaled, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. "I don’t know. I feel like I should be older."

Joe gave you a look like he already knew why.

"Because of him?" he asked, flicking his gaze toward Miles.

You hesitated.

"Because of everything," you said instead.

Joe didn’t press. He just hummed slightly, tapping his fingers against his glass.

"Well," he said after a moment, smirking again, "if it makes you feel any better, you look like you’re at least twenty-five."

You narrowed your eyes. "That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever gotten."

"I was going for honesty."

"Try harder next time."

"Noted."

And then, just like that, the conversation shifted. It wasn’t flirtation, not exactly. It was something else—something easier, something lighter.

For the first time in a long time, someone wasn’t talking to you like Miles’ fiancée.

Joe was just talking to you.

--

It started as a passing thought. A curiosity Joe couldn’t quite shake after that conversation at the event. You weren’t what he expected. And maybe that was the first problem.

Miles had been around forever. The Bengals’ golden boy before Joe got there. A veteran. Respected. The kind of guy you built a franchise around—or at least, that’s what people used to say. But now, with Joe in town, the balance had shifted. Miles wasn’t the star anymore, and everyone knew it.

Even Miles knew it.

Joe could see it in the way he carried himself, the way he lingered after practices, pushing himself harder, talking about his old stats like they were some kind of proof that he still mattered. He’d joke about it, but there was always something underneath. So, Burrow, you think you’re the guy now? Said with a grin, but the weight was there. The question lingered in the air between them.

Joe didn’t care much about that. But he did care—more than he wanted to admit—about you.

It wasn’t even in a way yet. Not in any way he could name. It was just there. That curiosity, that thing in the back of his mind that wouldn’t go away.

So one day, in the middle of practice, while the guys were running drills, he decided to ask.

Casual. Offhand. Like he wasn’t actually that interested.

"Yo, what do you guys think about Miles’ girl?"

Tee was the first to react, barely hesitating before letting out a low whistle.

"Whew, man. That’s a dangerous question, 9."

"Is it?" Joe asked, tilting his head.

"I mean, you have seen her, right?"

"Obviously."

"Then you already know," Tee said, shaking his head like the answer was obvious.

"Know what?"

Ja’Marr snorted. "That he’s punching."

Joe raised a brow. "Out of his league?"

"By a long shot." Tee shook his head, gripping the football in his hands. "It’s crazy, too, ‘cause she’s just… cool. You ever actually talk to her?"

Joe hesitated for a half-second. "Yeah. Once."

That was enough for the guys to give each other looks.

"Ohhh, so that’s why you’re asking," Ja’Marr teased.

"Chill, man," Joe rolled his eyes. "I was just curious."

"Sure."

"Nah, for real, though," Tee said, tossing the ball to Ja’Marr. "She’s mad sweet. Like, actually nice. Not just in a ‘stand-there-and-smile’ way, either. She remembers shit. Like, I saw her at some event last year, and she asked me about my sister. Nobody ever asks about my sister."

"She’s solid," Tyler added, jogging past them. "Like, real solid. You don’t meet a lot of girls like that in this life."

Joe frowned slightly, rolling his shoulders. "So why’s she with him?"

That made Tee pause, gripping the football tighter.

"Man…" He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I dunno. She’s been with him forever. Since she was, like, a kid."

"How much older is he?"

"Six years."

Joe blinked. "Damn."

"Yeah. And, like—don’t get me wrong, Miles is cool and all, but…" Tee trailed off, glancing at Ja’Marr, like he was debating how much to say.

Ja’Marr finished for him. "He’s kinda—" He made a so-so motion with his hand. "You know. A little selfish. Talks about himself a lot."

"A lot," Tee agreed.

"You ever seen them together?"

Joe thought about it. Really thought about it.

Miles was always talking. And when he wasn’t, he was making himself seen. When you were with him, you were quiet. Smiling. Nodding. Like you had a script to follow. Like it was second nature.

Joe remembered the way you’d looked at that event, absentmindedly twisting your ring around your finger. The way your face had shifted, just slightly, when you realized you and Joe were almost the same age. Like you’d never really thought about it before.

"Yeah," Joe said finally. "I’ve seen them."

Tee nodded like that told him everything he needed to know.

"Miles is a lucky dude," Ja’Marr said after a moment, stretching his arms above his head. "Just don’t think he knows it."

That part stuck with Joe the longest.

--

You had always wanted a quiet life. Not small, necessarily, but yours. Intimate. A life where love wasn’t measured in carats or headlines, but in moments. In the way someone reached for you without thinking, in the way they listened—really listened. But you knew, from the moment you started dating Miles, that privacy was a luxury you would never have.

Not with someone like him.

Miles was big. A presence. A personality. A man who took up space and made sure everyone knew it. And, in the beginning, maybe that had been exciting—the way he talked about you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was flattering. Addictive, even.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it became less about you and more about the idea of you.

The engagement was when you realized that fully, undeniably. When the last piece of the illusion shattered.

You had told him—so many times—how you dreamed of it happening. Something quiet. Personal. Maybe somewhere beautiful, just the two of you. No cameras, no crowd. Something real.

And instead, he did it during a game.

A packed stadium, the roar of the crowd, the flashing lights. And you—sitting in the stands, already feeling like a spectator in your own life—watching in horror as your face appeared on the jumbotron.

Miles, down on one knee in the middle of the field. Smiling like he had just won the Super Bowl. Holding out a ring so massive it caught the stadium lights like a diamond chandelier.

You felt it like a blow to the chest.

Because this wasn’t for you. It had never been for you. It was for the spectacle. The story. The legend of Miles Johnson, star receiver, locking down the perfect woman.

He had looked so proud of himself, so smug, soaking in the cheers. He didn’t even look at you, not really. Not to see you. He just waited, arm outstretched, knowing you would say yes. Because how could you say no? Not here. Not with thousands of people watching. Not with cameras broadcasting your reaction to the world.

So you said it.

"Yes."

And the crowd erupted, and Miles pulled you into a kiss like he had just won a trophy, and your hands shook as they slipped into his.

Later, when the adrenaline had worn off and the reality of it settled in, he had taken every opportunity to brag about the ring. Thirty grand. He told his teammates, his family, reporters. You see that? Got my girl the best. He would bring it up casually, waiting for people to react, for them to nod and pat him on the back like he had done something incredible. Like he had bought you.

The truth was, you hated the ring.

Not because it was expensive, but because it felt foreign on your hand. It was heavy, suffocating, too much. Too Miles.

Like everything else in your life.

Somewhere along the way, you had stopped being a person and had become a reflection of him. His fiancée. His prize.

And maybe you could have kept pretending it was enough—maybe you could have convinced yourself this was what love looked like—if Joe Burrow hadn’t looked at you that night at the event, sat beside you, and talked to you. Like a person. Like someone worth knowing.

Like you still existed.

It hit you a month after the engagement.

The NFL Honors had been a blur of flashing lights and stiff smiles, your body on autopilot as you stood beside Miles, your arm hooked around his like a delicate accessory. You had smiled for photos, laughed at the right moments, leaned into him like you belonged there. Like you wanted to be there. Like you weren’t suffocating beneath the weight of it all.

And then it was over.

The glamor, the noise, the people. Gone.

You were back in the house—Miles’ house—miles of sleek marble and vaulted ceilings, an architectural masterpiece designed to impress. To be envied. And yet, it had never felt like home.

It was too big, too curated, too cold.

It wasn’t you.

It had never been you.

The silence was deafening, pressing in around you as you sat curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, searching for something to fill the emptiness. And that was when you saw it—post after post, comments, pictures.

"Miles' girl." "Mrs. Johnson-to-be." "The most beautiful trophy wife in the NFL." "He really locked that down." "She’s perfect for him."

Not one mention of you. Not one comment about who you were, what you liked, what you thought, what you dreamed of. Just a never-ending stream of praise for Miles and how lucky he was. How you were his.

His. His.

You weren’t even Y/N anymore.

Just beautiful Y/N. Miles' perfect trophy. The girl who got the ring.

A weight settled in your chest, pressing against your ribs, thick and suffocating.

You hadn’t realized you were drowning until it was too late. Until you were so deep in it, you weren’t sure how to claw your way back to the surface.

Who even were you outside of him?

Your only friends were the other WAGs—women who smiled just like you did, laughed at all the same jokes, wore the same dresses to the same events, whose lives revolved around their husbands, their fiancés, their boyfriends. And Miles’ family—people who adored you, yes, but only as an extension of him. As the woman who would carry his last name, bear his children, sit in the stands and cheer him on.

You had spent years convincing yourself this was love. That this was what it meant to love someone—to mold yourself into what they needed, to take up less space, to fit neatly into their world without ever disrupting it.

And soon, you would be Mrs. Johnson.

And you would disappear entirely.

Miles came home late that night, the door clicking shut with the kind of ease that only came with routine. He never announced his arrival, never called out for you. He just assumed you’d be there—waiting, ready, exactly where he left you.

You were in the kitchen, sitting at the marble island, fingers curled around a half-empty glass of wine. He barely looked at you as he walked in, dropping his keys onto the counter, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” you said, voice softer than you meant it to be.

“Hey.”

A beat of silence. The air felt thick, heavy. You weren’t sure why, but you knew you needed to say something, anything to fill the space before it swallowed you whole.

“I was thinking of picking up a new hobby,” you tried. “Something creative. I don’t know, maybe painting or—”

“How much do you need?” Miles cut in, still looking at his phone.

You blinked. “What?”

He sighed like you were exhausting him. “How much? I’ll transfer it now.”

Your grip tightened around the stem of the wine glass. “I don’t need money, Miles. I just—”

“Then what?” He finally looked up, brow furrowed like you were the confusing one here. Like this conversation was a waste of time. “I don’t get it.”

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I was just trying to tell you something. About me. About my life.”

“Your life?” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “What life, Y/N? You don’t work. You don’t have to worry about anything except looking good and showing up when you need to. What else do you need?”

It hit you square in the chest. The final nail in the coffin.

What else do you need?

Not who are you? Not what makes you happy? Not tell me more baby, I want to know.

You swallowed, a sharp bitterness curling in your throat. “I need a husband who actually listens to me.”

That made him pause. His brows pulled together, his lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Then—“Don’t start this shit, Y/N.”

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

“This shit?” you repeated, voice climbing, hands shaking. “You mean talking? You mean actually having a conversation for once?”

Miles groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jesus, you’re always so fucking dramatic.”

“I’m trying to talk to you, Miles! And you can’t even pretend to care for five seconds!”

His eyes darkened. “You have everything, Y/N. A perfect life. A perfect goddamn ring. And you’re still not happy.”

“Because none of it feels like mine!” The words came out harsher than you intended, but they were true. “It’s your house. Your money. Your world. Where do I fit into any of it?”

Miles shook his head, scoffing under his breath. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to give a shit!”

“Well, maybe I don’t have time to sit around worrying about feelings all day!” He slammed his phone onto the counter. “I have a career to focus on, Y/N. A team to lead. You think I have time to deal with your little identity crisis?”

It felt like a slap.

A sharp, cold, humiliating slap.

You stared at him, heart pounding, mouth dry, but you had nothing left to say. Nothing left to fight for.

The silence stretched, long and unforgiving.

Miles exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Just turned and left, his heavy footsteps fading down the hall.

And you—

You stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he had just been, before you finally moved. You crawled into bed alone, pulled the covers up to your chin, and let yourself cry.

--

The next morning at practice, the air was thick with late summer humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything feel heavier. The guys were halfway through drills when Miles started talking—loudly, for anyone who’d listen.

“She was crying when I left last night, man,” he said, shaking his head as he lined up for another rep. “Over what? Some bullshit about a hobby. A hobby, bro. Like, what even is that? She has everything.”

Joe clenched his jaw, eyes locked on the yard line ahead as he rolled out his shoulders. He wasn’t trying to listen, but Miles wasn’t exactly subtle.

Tee Higgins, standing next to Joe, let out a low whistle. “Damn. You sure you wanna be sayin’ all that out loud?”

Miles scoffed. “What, like it’s a secret? Everyone knows she’s got the perfect life. But somehow, that ain’t enough.”

Joe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He knew why it wasn’t enough.

And before he could stop himself, the words were out—sharp, biting. “Maybe ‘cause it’s your version of perfect, not hers.”

A pause.

Miles turned his head slowly, expression hardening. “What?”

Joe shrugged, keeping his voice even. “I’m just saying. Maybe you should listen to her instead of assuming she’s just complaining for fun.”

The guys around them shifted, suddenly very invested in stretching. Ja’Marr muttered something under his breath about not getting in the middle of shit, but Tee smirked, glancing between them like this was the most entertainment he’d had all morning.

Miles let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “And what do you know about relationships, Burrow? You got a girl I don’t know about?”

Joe didn’t answer. Just stared back, unblinking.

Miles tilted his head, and his voice dropped lower. “Or are you just real interested in mine?”

The energy shifted. The air got tighter.

Joe rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to stay calm. “Nah. Just think you should be careful who you shit talk your fiancée to.”

“Fiancée, huh?” Miles’ mouth curled into something ugly. “You wanna date her instead or something?”

The words hit the ground between them like a live wire. The whole group went quiet.

Joe kept his expression blank. “That what you’re worried about?”

Miles took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Nah. I’m not worried about shit. But maybe you should be careful.”

Joe didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Didn’t give Miles the satisfaction of a reaction.

Instead, he let the silence stretch, watching as the frustration crept into Miles’ expression.

Then, finally—Joe smirked. Just a little. Just enough.

And that pissed Miles off more than anything.

Miles' jaw tensed, nostrils flaring. His hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to say more—like he wanted to do more—but there were too many eyes on them now. The tension between them was so thick, so sharp, that even the guys who usually loved a little locker room drama weren’t sure if they wanted to be part of this one.

Tee let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Man, y’all gonna throw hands before practice even starts?”

“Ain’t nobody throwing hands,” Ja’Marr cut in, stepping between them like he already knew where this was headed. “Miles just real defensive all of a sudden.”

Miles scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. “Nah, y’all are just real nosy all of a sudden.”

Joe just smiled again, the same easy, slow smirk that had already set Miles on edge. He could see it in the way the older man’s shoulders went rigid, in the way his fists flexed. And Joe wasn’t dumb—he knew he was playing with fire. But Miles had been running his mouth since the moment practice started, acting like his relationship was some kind of burden, and Joe wasn’t the type to sit back and pretend he didn’t hear it.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, the other guys—those who hadn’t already quietly backed away—started chuckling, shaking their heads.

The laughter died down, but the damage was already done. The idea had already been planted—Miles wasn’t the prize in this relationship. She was.

Joe could see it in his face. The way his jaw twitched, the way his eyes flickered with something insecure, something raw.

And it made sense now. Why Miles paraded her around like a trophy, why he made sure every room knew she was his, why he proposed in front of an entire stadium instead of in private where she might’ve actually wanted it.

It was never about her. It was always about him. About making sure everyone knew he was still the star—on the field, in the locker room, and in his own damn relationship.

Miles exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders back like he was shaking off the conversation. Then he turned his glare back on Joe, pointing a finger at him. “You? Stay the fuck out of my business.”

Joe lifted his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Wouldn’t have to if you stopped airing it out in the middle of practice.”

Miles stared at him for another second—long enough that Joe could see the battle happening in his head, the urge to keep pushing versus the reality that they were still standing on the damn field, still surrounded by teammates, still at work.

Eventually, Miles just muttered something under his breath and stalked off toward the sideline, shoulders tight with frustration.

Joe exhaled, shaking his head as he lined up for the next drill.

Tee clapped him on the back, grinning. “Oh yeah, you definitely got under his skin.”

Joe just smirked, eyes flickering in the direction Miles had gone.

Good.

--

You woke up feeling off.

Not sick, not exactly—but weighed down, heavy, like your body had absorbed the exhaustion of the night before and decided to make a home of it. The bed was cold next to you, a reminder that Miles had never come back from the couch. That should’ve brought some kind of relief, but instead, it just settled deeper into your bones.

You stared at the ceiling, the light creeping in through the expensive sheer curtains—ones Miles had picked out because they looked good, not because they actually blocked anything. You felt like you hadn’t slept at all. Maybe you hadn’t.

Last night was the first time in a long time that the silence had cracked, that the resentment bubbling beneath the surface had finally boiled over. And now, in the daylight, you couldn’t tell if you felt better for it—or worse.

It wasn’t like it was one fight that made you feel this way. It was years of being Miles Johnson’s fiancée, before that, his girlfriend. Years of being reduced to an extension of him, even when you hadn’t noticed it happening.

But you did now. And you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You were nineteen when you met him. Miles was twenty-five. Six years older, in the prime of his career, a star. And you? You were just a college sophomore at a school you weren’t even sure you loved, in a major you had picked because it seemed practical, not because it felt right. You had plans for your life, dreams, but they were all vague and out of focus, waiting for the right moment to take shape.

And then there was Miles.

Charming, cocky, larger than life—he had walked into the bar that night like he owned the whole damn city. You hadn’t even known who he was at first, but your friends did. They whispered about him like he was something untouchable, an idea more than a person. And then, somehow, he was standing in front of you.

“You’re the prettiest girl in here,” he had said, like it was a fact. And when you had rolled your eyes, he had laughed, delighted.

“Not gonna fall at my feet, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

That had made him try harder.

It was easy, then. Easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of being pursued by someone like him—older, successful, with the kind of confidence that made you believe he knew everything about the world. He took you to expensive restaurants, bought you things you would never have dared to pick out for yourself. He introduced you to people who lived lives you couldn’t even imagine. And when he kissed you, when he pulled you into his orbit, it felt like stepping into a life bigger than your own.

You didn’t notice the shift at first.

Didn’t notice how the little things that made you you started slipping away, how your world slowly became about his—his career, his schedule, his needs. You told yourself it was just part of the relationship, part of loving someone like Miles. That it was normal to bend, to adjust, to let go of the things that didn’t fit anymore.

You stopped talking about the things you wanted to do—because, eventually, you started forgetting what they even were.

And then, somewhere along the way, you became his.

Not just his girlfriend, but Miles Johnson’s girlfriend. A title, a role, something people recognized before they even knew you. And you had played the part well. You were the beautiful, supportive, ever-smiling woman on his arm. The one who laughed at his jokes, who cheered for him from the stands, who let him hold court in every room while you lingered in the background.

And now, you were his fiancée.

And soon, you would be Mrs. Johnson.

And you would disappear completely.

--

Joe had never been the type to dwell on things.

His whole life had been about moving forward, about the next step, the next goal, the next game. He had always known where he was going—to the NFL, to the kind of career most people could only dream about. That had been the plan since he was a kid, and he had never once let himself get distracted from it.

College had been a blur. Not in a reckless, partying-until-dawn way—he had been too focused for that—but in the sense that everything outside of football had been… secondary. Background noise.

Yeah, he always had a girl on his arm. It wasn’t hard—he was Joe Burrow, after all. But they were never the girl. They were just there. Pretty, fun, something to fill the gaps between practices and film sessions, but never something that took up space in his mind once they were gone. He never let them.

He had bigger things to worry about.

And now, he was here.

The NFL. The dream, the destination. And he had everything he had worked for—millions in the bank, a city that worshipped him, a career that was just getting started. He was playing on the biggest stage in the world, living out every goal he had ever set for himself.

And yet.

Lately, there was something he couldn’t shake.

He wasn’t unhappy, exactly. He loved football. Loved the grind, the competition, the high of a perfect game. But there were nights—when he was alone in his place, when the buzz of the locker room had faded, when he saw his friends posting about engagements, weddings, families—when he wondered if maybe he had spent so much time chasing one dream that he hadn’t realized he might want something else, too.

Not in the I need to settle down right now way. He wasn’t miles away from that thought. But he just felt… off. Like there was something missing, something just out of reach.

And that feeling had been lingering at the edges of his mind for a while now, but he hadn’t really thought about it—hadn’t really felt it—until he met her.

She wasn’t supposed to be interesting.

He had seen plenty of women like her before—NFL girlfriends and fiancées, always perfect, always polished, always a step behind the star they were attached to. He didn’t have anything against them, but he had never given them much thought. They were part of the scenery, the expected.

But she was different.

He had noticed it the second he talked to her.

That night at the event, when everyone else had ignored her, when she had been sitting alone while Miles soaked up the attention like a sponge, Joe had been curious.

So he sat down next to her.

And the second she looked at him, he saw it—the sharpness behind her eyes, the way she was there but not present, the way she seemed to be existing in a world that had been built for her but not by her.

And she had challenged him. Not in a playful, flirty way, but in a real way. He had expected her to be polite, to give the kind of empty small talk he always got at these things.

But she had given him something real.

And now? Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Not just because she was gorgeous—she was, maybe one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—but because she was interesting.

She didn’t fit the mold. He could tell.

And maybe it was selfish, maybe it was just because he was bored with everything else, but for the first time in a long time, Joe had found someone who made him want to know more.

And he was going to figure out why.

--

You were curled up in bed, your phone the only thing keeping you company as you aimlessly scrolled. You barely heard him come in, barely looked up when Miles greeted you, his voice low and familiar. You felt the soft kiss he pressed to your neck, but your body tensed, just slightly. He didn’t notice, or maybe he chose not to.

His lips trailed lower, his hands finding their way to your waist, his voice dropping into that coaxing tone you knew all too well. “Been thinkin’ about you all day. Missed you.”

You exhaled, a slow, tired sound slipping from your lips. “Miles.”

He lingered there, waiting for more, but you didn’t give him anything. Your eyes remained on the ceiling, your phone discarded on the nightstand. You felt him nuzzle into your hair, his fingers brushing beneath the hem of your shirt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The energy between you felt… off. He asked if you were mad at him, but that wasn’t it. Not really.

You didn’t answer at first. You just pulled away, just enough to let him know that you weren’t in the mood. That you didn’t want this.

He blinked, confused, his voice softer when he tried again. “Y/N?”

But you didn’t want to deal with this now. You were tired. Exhausted, in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. “I’m just tired, Miles,” you murmured, your voice distant, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t mad at him. You just didn’t feel like being pulled into whatever he was trying to fix tonight.

You felt him sit back, his gaze heavy on you as if he was seeing you for the first time in a while. The silence stretched between you, thick and uneasy. Then, his voice broke through it again, suggesting that maybe you should get a job, do something with yourself to feel better. It wasn’t the most thoughtful thing he’d said, and you knew that. You weren’t sure if he even meant it or if he was just trying to patch things up in the way he knew best.

You looked at him, your gaze searching, unsure if you were hearing him right. “You’d be okay with that?” you asked, needing to know if he meant what he was saying.

He shrugged, a little too casually. “Yeah. You don’t gotta, obviously. You got everything you need, but if you want somethin’ to do, I’ll support you. Whatever makes you happy, baby.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You just let his words hang in the air, feeling like he was offering something you didn’t know if you wanted. But there it was—the tiniest flicker of relief in your chest as you nodded. Maybe you were grasping at something, anything, to feel like yourself again.

He exhaled, like he’d solved something. But you knew better. There was still a gap between you, unspoken, unresolved. For now, though, you’d let it go.

--

The night is warm, thick with the scent of grilled barbecue and chlorine, laughter spilling into the air like music. The backyard is packed—players, coaches, WAGs, and staff all buzzing with the energy of a new season, of fresh starts and high expectations. The pool glows under string lights, the surface shimmering as people dip their feet in or wade lazily through the water, red Solo cups in hand.

You’re sitting at the edge of a lounge chair, your bare legs stretched out in front of you, the hem of your dress brushing your thighs as you sip from your drink. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this—light. The WAGs are in a good mood tonight, looser than usual, buzzing from the excitement of the upcoming season, from the warmth of the alcohol.

"I swear to God, if I have to listen to one more fantasy football draft strategy," one of them groans, rolling her eyes as she leans back against her chair.

"Girl, my man has a binder full of statistics. Like it’s a college thesis or some shit," another one laughs.

You giggle, shaking your head, the sound feeling foreign in your own ears. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to just be—to feel like you’re back in college, before your entire identity became wrapped around someone else’s.

And across the yard, Joe Burrow cannot stop staring at you.

He’s not even subtle about it.

His drink sits idle in his hand, elbow propped on the armrest of a patio chair, his gaze cutting across the party, locking onto you like a magnet. He watches the way your shoulders shake when you laugh, the way you tilt your head, the way your dress clings to the curves of your legs when you cross them.

"Bro, you gotta stop looking before Miles notices," Ja’Marr leans in, a lazy grin on his face.

Joe just shrugs, bringing his drink to his lips. "What’s he gonna do? Kill me?"

Ja’Marr snorts. "I mean, you are staring at his fiancée like you’re trying to solve a puzzle."

"She’s beautiful. He should know people are gonna look at her," Joe says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ja’Marr shakes his head, muttering something about how Joe’s got a death wish, but Joe just keeps watching.

And across the way, the WAGs notice.

"Okay, so I need you to tell me what you did to get Joe Burrow to look at you like that," one of them teases, nudging your shoulder.

Your brows furrow. "What?"

"Oh, come on," another one smirks. "That man has not taken his eyes off you for the last twenty minutes. I’m actually starting to feel bad for Miles."

Your stomach twists—not in discomfort, not in guilt, but in something else entirely. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

You feel wanted.

Not in the way Miles wants you—like a prize to show off, like a thing to possess—but in the way you used to feel when you were younger, when boys would flirt with you at college parties, when someone’s gaze made you feel interesting, not just beautiful.

And it makes you feel alive.

You shake your head, laughing it off, even as your pulse picks up just a little. "You guys are imagining things."

"Oh, we definitely aren’t," one of them hums, taking a slow sip of her drink.

You glance back across the yard.

And Joe is still looking.

But this time, when your eyes meet, he doesn’t look away.

The night hums around you, a warm breeze sweeping through the backyard, making the string lights above sway gently. The scent of charred meat still lingers in the air, mixed with chlorine and expensive cologne. Laughter spills from the pool, from the deck, from the little clusters of people standing around, but none of it touches you.

Not now.

Not with him walking towards you.

Joe Burrow is moving through the crowd like he has nowhere to be, like he’s got all the time in the world to just be here, under these lights, on this night. And he’s heading straight for you.

The WAGs had just left, off to mingle with their husbands and boyfriends, leaving you alone in your chair with your mostly empty drink. You didn’t mind—being alone was something you were used to these days.

But apparently, Joe did mind.

"Need a refill?" His voice is smooth, the faintest trace of amusement in it, like he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it.

You glance down at your glass, condensation dripping down the sides, ice melting, barely a sip of anything left. You nod. "Yeah, actually."

He doesn’t hesitate. Just reaches out, plucks the cup from your fingers with a little smirk, and walks off toward the bar like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You watch him go, blinking in mild disbelief.

Joe Burrow, one of the biggest names in the NFL, just walked away to get you a drink.

And God, that does something to you.

A moment later, he’s back, handing you your glass, and when your fingers brush against his, there’s a flicker of something electric, something dangerous.

You swallow and bring the drink to your lips. Cold, crisp, refreshing.

Joe drops into the chair across from you, sprawling out like he belongs there, his legs spread wide, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair. He watches you take a sip, his gaze half-lidded, like he’s already settled in for a conversation he doesn’t plan on cutting short.

"You looked like you needed rescuing from whatever the hell they were talking about," he says, tilting his chin toward where the WAGs had been sitting earlier.

You let out a breath of laughter. "You ever heard a thirty-minute conversation about throw pillows?"

His brows raise. "Can’t say I have."

"Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky," you tease, shaking your head. "I love them, but sometimes I swear they could write dissertations on interior decorating."

Joe smirks. "And you? You an expert on throw pillows too?"

You snort. "Not even close."

"Shame," he murmurs, taking a slow sip of his own drink. "I was really hoping you’d have some strong opinions on lumbar support."

You roll your eyes. "God, shut up."

"That’s not a no," he quips, and you groan, throwing your head back.

"Fine. If you must know, I do think most decorative pillows are pointless, because you just end up throwing them off the bed or couch anyway."

Joe grins, slow and smug. "So you do have strong opinions."

You open your mouth, then close it, glaring at him. "I hate you."

His smirk deepens. "No, you don’t."

And for some reason, that makes your stomach flip.

There’s something so easy about this, about him. The way the conversation flows, the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he’s teasing you, the way he leans in just slightly, like he’s actually interested in what you have to say, like he’s not just making conversation to fill the silence.

It’s been a long time since someone talked to you like this. Since someone made you feel interesting, not just beautiful, not just Miles’ fiancée.

And God, you must be blushing, because Joe’s eyes flick over your face, and his grin turns downright wicked.

"You’re blushing," he says, voice all silk and amusement.

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "No, I’m not."

"Yeah, you are," he says, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees. "Damn, if I knew I had this effect on you, I would’ve started teasing you way earlier."

You narrow your eyes at him, but your lips are twitching, and he knows it.

"You’re insufferable."

Joe just chuckles, sitting back again, watching you over the rim of his glass. "And yet, you’re still sitting here."

And you don’t have an answer for that.

Because the truth is, you want to be here.

You want to sit in this chair, under these lights, on this warm summer night, and feel like this—like yourself, like a person, like something more than what you’ve been reduced to.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel alone.

--

Miles spotted them the second Joe sat down.

At first, it was just an awareness, the way his eyes naturally gravitated toward her—like they always did in a room full of people. It was a habit, second nature, an unconscious thing. A glance, then another. But then he saw the way Joe was looking at her.

And suddenly, he wasn’t just watching. He was staring.

Something inside him, something dark and unfamiliar, curled up tight in his chest.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this.

Miles had never had to be jealous before. Never had to worry. She was his. And that had always been enough.

But now?

Now, he was watching another man sit in front of her, lean in, smirk at her like she was something to be won. And worse—so much worse—she was laughing.

Really laughing.

Not the polite, social laugh she gave when she was playing the role of his perfect wife. Not the strained, forced kind that meant she was bored but trying to be nice.

No, this was different.

This was easy, genuine.

This was the kind of laugh she used to give him.

His grip on his beer tightened, fingers pressing into the damp glass, jaw locking so hard it ached.

Joe fucking Burrow.

The golden boy. The franchise. The quarterback who could do no wrong.

And now, apparently, the asshole who thought he could sit across from Miles’ wife and flirt with her in plain fucking sight.

What pissed him off the most was that Joe didn’t even try to hide it. He wasn’t subtle, wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t the kind of half-assed flirting guys did when they were just testing the waters, unsure if she was off-limits. No, this was deliberate. This was the kind of thing that happened when a man already knew what he wanted.

And the way he was looking at her, the way he smirked every time she tried to argue with him, the way his gaze lingered on her mouth just a second too long—he wanted her.

And she was letting him.

Miles' stomach twisted, something sour curling in his throat.

Had she ever smiled at him like that in the last few months? Had she ever looked that light, that carefree, that… happy?

A flash of memory hit him—her voice, sharp and tired from their last fight.

"I just want to feel like more than your fucking wife, Miles."

His throat tightened.

Because fuck, he knew he hadn’t been perfect. He knew things had been off between them, knew she wanted more, needed more.

But was this it?

Was this what she needed?

Some other man’s attention? Some other man making her blush, making her tuck her hair behind her ear like she was some shy, sweet little thing who wasn’t married?

He set his beer down a little too hard on the table beside him, the sound loud in his ears.

"Man, you good?" Tee asked, glancing at him.

Miles barely heard him.

Joe was leaning forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice low, saying something that made her shake her head, biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh.

And Miles saw red.

He had never—never—felt something like this before.

He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the jealous type.

He never had to be.

She’d always been his. And no one had ever challenged that. No one had ever looked at her and thought they had a chance because they didn’t.

But here Joe was. Sitting there, flirting with her like Miles didn’t even fucking exist.

And Miles hated him for it.

"Yo," Tee said again, nudging him. "What’s up?"

Miles’ hands curled into fists.

"Burrow," he muttered, eyes still locked on the scene in front of him.

Tee followed his line of sight, then let out a low whistle. "Damn," he said, shaking his head. "He really don’t give a fuck, huh?"

No. He didn’t.

And that was the problem.

Because Joe fucking Burrow wasn’t scared of him.

He wasn’t worried about stepping on toes, wasn’t concerned about boundaries.

Because in his mind?

Miles didn’t matter.

And that?

That was fucking unacceptable.

--

You don’t notice Miles at first.

Not really.

You’re too caught up in the moment, in the way Joe makes it so easy to talk, to laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve had a conversation like this—one that isn’t about game schedules or dinner plans or how many charity events you have lined up for the season.

But then Joe’s eyes flicker up for half a second, and you know.

You know before you even turn around.

Miles is standing there, casual as anything, beer in hand, that unreadable half-smirk on his face. He’s trying to play it cool, you can tell, but you know him. You know the sharp edge of his jaw when he’s holding something back, the way his fingers tap against his bottle when he’s annoyed.

"Looks like you two are having fun," he says, voice light, teasing.

You open your mouth, but Joe beats you to it.

"Yeah," he says easily. "She’s good company."

Miles’ smirk twitches, just a little, just enough for you to notice.

"That right?"

Joe just grins. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Miles shifts his weight slightly, adjusting his grip on his beer, then turns to you. "We should get going."

You blink. "What? Why?"

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like he hadn’t just interrupted your conversation. "It’s late."

You frown. "It’s not that late."

Miles looks at you for a long second, then smiles. "You wanna stay?"

"Yeah, I do."

Joe leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying every second of this. "Can’t blame her," he says with a smirk. "It’s a good party."

Miles doesn’t look at him, just keeps his eyes on you. "One of your friends was looking for you," he says, smooth and easy. "Said they needed to talk."

You hesitate. "Who?"

He just shrugs again, taking a sip of his drink. "Not sure. But they seemed like it was important."

You glance between him and Joe, feeling something heavy settle in your stomach. You know what Miles is doing. He’s giving you an out, a way to leave without making a scene.

And part of you wants to fight him on it.

But the other part?

The other part just sighs.

"Okay," you say eventually, standing up. "I’ll go find them."

Joe watches you go, and just before you’re out of earshot, you hear him chuckle.

"You really don’t like me, huh?" he says, and you don’t have to turn around to know that Miles is seething.

Miles doesn’t answer Joe right away.

He just stares.

And for the first time in his life, Joe watches a man who’s always been effortlessly self-assured hesitate. Miles Johnson, the guy who’s never questioned a damn thing in his life, the guy who walks into every room like he owns it, the guy who doesn’t lose—he’s standing there, jaw tight, grip flexing around the neck of his beer bottle, seething.

Because this isn’t just about some guy flirting with his girl.

This is about Joe Burrow flirting with his girl.

Joe, who has everything Miles does. Joe, who isn’t just some backup wide receiver on the depth chart but the quarterback, the golden boy, the face of the team. If it were some random guy, Miles wouldn’t even be thinking twice about it. But Joe? That’s different.

Joe has already been given the world, and now—now he’s looking at his girl like he has a shot at taking that, too.

Miles lets out a breath through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "You think this shit is funny?"

Joe just smiles. "Kinda, yeah."

Miles’ jaw clenches.

"You got something to say, man?"

Joe takes his time leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees, beer dangling from his fingers. "Me? Nah. I think you already know what I’m thinking."

Miles steps closer.

The tension is thick, crackling, and Joe—Joe just sits there, cool as ever, because he lives for this shit. He’s spent his whole life on a football field, has stared down 300-pound linemen trying to rip his head off, has played in stadiums so loud he couldn't even hear his own thoughts, and this?

This is just funny.

"You got a problem with me, Miles?" Joe finally asks, voice easy, relaxed.

Miles doesn’t answer. Because yeah, maybe he does have a problem with Joe.

And Joe fucking knows it.

And just when it looks like Miles might actually say something, Ja’Marr appears like he’s got some kind of internal alarm for bad ideas.

"Hey, hey, hey," Ja’Marr says, stepping between them before anything can go further. "What the hell is goin’ on over here?"

Joe leans back, grinning like nothing happened. "Nothing."

Miles scoffs. "Yeah," he mutters, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking something off. "Nothing."

Ja’Marr looks between them, clearly not believing that for a second. "Right."

Miles exhales sharply, trying to regain some control of the situation. He looks back at Joe, his voice measured. "Look, I don’t know what kinda game you think you’re playing, but let me make one thing clear—she’s mine."

Joe just tilts his head. "No one’s arguing that."

"You sure?" Miles asks, voice low.

Joe just lifts a shoulder. "One hundred percent."

Miles stares at him, trying to read between the lines, trying to see if Joe is bullshitting him, and Joe gives him nothing. Just a calm, neutral expression.

Joe finally sighs, running a hand through his hair like this whole thing is just exhausting for him. "Look, bro, you got nothing to worry about," he says, and his voice is so assured, so calm, that for a second, Miles wants to believe him. "Focus on your season, your career. You’re a lucky man. No one’s trying to step on your toes."

He even throws in a little bro-code for good measure, because that’s what guys like Miles eat up.

And just like that—Miles relaxes. Not completely, but enough that he lets it go.

"Good," he mutters after a long moment.

Joe nods, casual as anything, and then Miles finally—finally—walks away.

Ja’Marr watches him go, then turns back to Joe.

"That was some bullshit," he says.

Joe just grins. "Yeah. But he bought it, didn’t he?"

The drive home is quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful, but the kind that makes your skin prickle, the kind that sits heavy in the air, thick with something unsaid.

You’re still in a good mood. You can feel it in the way your body is still buzzing slightly, the aftereffects of laughter and good conversation. For the first time in a long time, you’d felt light. Like the version of yourself that existed before all of this—before the responsibilities, before the expectations, before you became someone’s wife—had peeked through the cracks of who you’ve had to become.

And Miles hates it.

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel it. The weight of his stare on the road, the way his grip on the wheel is just a little too tight. He’s never been good at masking his emotions, never been the type to hide his displeasure. You learned that early on.

When you get home, you don’t even make it to your bedroom before he speaks.

"So," Miles says, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you with an expression that isn’t outright anger, but something close to it. "You had fun tonight."

It’s not a question.

You pause, placing your purse on the counter carefully, your heartbeat just slightly picking up. "Yeah," you say slowly, hesitantly. "It was nice to be around everyone before the season starts."

He hums. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, something calculating, and you don’t like it.

"You and Joe seemed to be having fun," he continues.

And there it is.

Your stomach twists—not in guilt, but in frustration.

"Don’t do that," you say, turning fully to face him now. "Don’t make it into something it wasn’t."

Miles tilts his head, his mouth twisting like he’s the one who should be annoyed. "Make it into something?" he repeats, letting out a sharp little laugh. "Baby, I was there. I saw it."

You inhale deeply through your nose. "Saw what?"

Miles scoffs, pushing off the counter, stepping closer. "You really want me to spell it out for you?"

Your jaw clenches. "Yes, actually, I do. Because from where I was sitting, all I did was have a conversation, and now you’re acting like—"

"Like what?" he cuts in. His voice isn’t raised, but there’s a sharp edge to it, a barely restrained irritation. "Like I didn’t have to sit there and watch my wife giggle at another man’s jokes? Like I didn’t have to watch him look at you like he was thinking about shit he shouldn’t be thinking about?"

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "That’s what this is about? Because someone looked at me?"

Miles exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. "No, this is about you letting him."

Your stomach drops.

There it is.

The shift. The moment where he stops being annoyed at the situation and starts being annoyed at you.

Your hands clench at your sides. "I can’t control how people look at me, Miles."

He takes another step forward, closing the distance, voice lowering. "But you can control how you react to it."

You stare at him, searching his face for the man you used to know, the one who once made you feel like you were the center of his world.

"I didn’t do anything wrong," you say, and you hate the way your voice comes out softer, like you're trying to convince him.

Miles exhales, and for a second, he just looks at you.

And then—he sighs.

It’s long and dramatic, and he runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. "You’re right," he finally says, and it’s so sudden that it almost gives you whiplash. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

Your brows knit together in confusion.

"I—I didn’t?"

He steps forward again, hands landing on your waist now, pulling you closer. "No, baby," he murmurs, his voice shifting, softening. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you did."

Your brain is scrambling to catch up.

"You—" you swallow. "You just—"

"I know, I know," he sighs again, dropping his forehead to yours. "God, I hate fighting with you."

You exhale shakily. The tension that had built up in your chest doesn’t fully leave, but it starts to shift.

Because this is the part where he fixes it.

The part where he pulls you into his arms, presses his lips to your forehead, and makes it okay.

"You know I just—I just love you so much," he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw, your neck. "And I see someone else getting your attention, even for a second, and I just—I don’t know, baby, I just lose it."

You close your eyes. Your hands move to rest on his chest out of habit. "Miles—"

"Shh," he hums, lips brushing your ear now. "I forgive you, okay?"

Your breath catches.

"You forgive me?"

He kisses you before you can say anything else.

And that’s how he does it.

That’s how he wins.

Because somehow, you’ve gone from defending yourself to being the one who is forgiven.

And the worst part?

You let him.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Threads of Desire: A Christmas to Remember - Chapter 7

Summary: Arriving to work late is rough when a surprise visit from both Negan and Daryl interrupts an already hectic day for Y/N.

Characters: Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Guy (OC), Jordyn, Maggie, Daryl Dixon, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61111030/chapters/161820370

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, etc.

Notes: I am sorry it takes so long for me to update these days. Real life has been so busy, but I'm doing my best. Thanks to those that read! If you want to read the other chapters, be sure to check them out here.

Being late was never something that Y/N was. Since she took this job under Maggie four years ago, she had always been to work early. However, today she found herself waking up long after her alarm went off. Sleeping through her alarm clock was not something that she had done in a very long time. Showing up late to work was not something that was on her checklist of things to do after Guy offered her that brand new position at Vixen. Originally, she planned to be just like she was before. Dedicated to her job and hard working. So when she woke up this morning, she panicked. What she wanted to do was make a good first impression. Starting her new job off like this was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she ended up showing up to work almost two hours late.

Getting ready was rough since she was anxious as it was. Everything felt like an obstacle this morning. No doubt Maggie would be upset with her for being late. This was the first time she ever had been, but since she had been pissing Maggie off over the last few days she knew that it would be bad. And then it made her wonder if Guy would have told Maggie about her promotion. With her being late, that would be enough ammunition for Maggie to try to convince Guy to go back on his decision.

Rushing to work just made things harder. Trying to get into the doors of the building was extraordinarily complicated because she had her arms full. The fact she was able to get into the building was an accomplishment in itself. Scrambling into the building, all she could think about was how Guy had offered her this brand-new position and she had already fucked up.

“Hey!” a raspy voice called out from behind her in the empty lobby of the building. Hearing it had her jumping since she wasn’t expecting it. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Negan pulling himself up from the same seat he was sitting in last night. Scrambling to get to her, Negan pointed to everything that she was attempting to carry. “Let me help you with that.”

Frustration flooded her veins. Now Negan was showing up at her work in the morning waiting for her. With everything going on this morning already, dealing with Negan was not something that she was ready for. Especially since she had so much going on already.

Instead of waiting for her answer, Negan was reaching for some of the things that were in her arms and he flashed her a big smile, “Did you carry all of this here on your own?”

“Yeah,” she didn’t know how to respond, her throat going dry. What the hell could she say to Negan? Waiting for her at the end of the workday was one thing, but showing up in the morning was another. “Negan, what the hell are you doing here? You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Negan tipped his head to the side, completely oblivious to what she was hinting. Then again, by the big cheesy smile that slowly tugged at his features, it made her wonder if he knew what he was doing and this was purposeful. “Helping you?”

“You know what I’m saying to you,” she scoffed, taking a quick look around the lobby noticing that it was completely empty except for the employee that was sitting at the front desk. Adjusting the items that she had in her arms, she was actually thankful that Negan managed to help her because she was certain she would have dropped something if he hadn’t. “Were you really just sitting there for the last two hours waiting for me?”

“Well, I wasn’t sitting there the whole time, but…kinda?” Negan bobbed his head about, his thick eyebrows bouncing up when she released a stressed sound. Turning on her heel, she started to head for the elevators knowing that she couldn’t do this right now. Especially since she was already so late. The sound of Negan following her not far behind was heard and she very much expected that. “Fuck, you really aren’t in the mood to talk, are you?”

“Not really, no,” she was blunt, huffing out when Negan ran into her from behind in his quickness to follow her as she came to a stop at the elevators.

“Fuck, sorry,” Negan apologized managing to reposition the items he took from her so he could carry them under one arm. “Listen, I didn’t think you’d run off last night. I thought you’d let me walk you home and we could talk.”

“If I let you walk me home and we talked, we’d probably just end up having sex,” she noted under her breath realizing that what they did last night in the restaurant wasn’t right as it was. Taking a look around, she was happy that no one else was there to hear her. “And that would have gotten us nowhere. You know I’m right.”

“Well…” Negan paused, a crack of a smile tugging at his tired features. Tipping his head from side to side, his Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and he sighed. “Touché.”

Silence surrounded them and she found herself condemning the elevator for always taking this long, “I just didn’t like the idea of you running off upset. And then when you didn’t show up to work on time this morning, I panicked.”

“I just slept in Negan. I haven’t slept well in days,” she reasoned with him, her chest heavy at the idea of everything that was bothering her. “You could have just texted me, showing up here is not going to do anything right now.”

“You told me last night that doing things through text was wrong,” Negan mentioned what she had said when he went to break up with Maggie through text message when she was upset with the idea of him still dating Maggie. “Ever since the day of the event, I haven’t been able to sleep much because all I think about is you.”

Dropping her head down, she tensed up at the idea and there were still a lot of things running through her mind. Why now when he had so many years previously when he could have done this?

“Are you a moron?” she hissed out eliciting a confused expression from Negan. An uncomfortable laugh escaped his lips before he let out an amused sound. “I’m serious. I’ve been fawning over you for eight years. Eight years, I’ve wanted you to be in love with me. And for eight years, nothing. I finally tell you how things are and now I can’t get you to leave me alone. So it’s a genuine question. Are you a moron because anyone with half a brain could see that I was in love with you. Did it really take me physically telling you that I felt that way for you to realize there was something here?”

“Well, when you put it like that and shit…” Negan considered her question, waving his free hand about and letting out a huff. “Then yeah, I guess I am. I’m a man. We’re not exactly the brightest. It’s a horrible excuse, but sometimes we let our smaller brain lead our decisions. Unless we’re not directly told something, we don’t always pick up on the subtle hints.”

“That’s an awful excuse,” she snorted, shaking her head in response. After a moment, she realized that there was something missing when it came to Negan. “Where is Jordyn?”

“She’s been in the office,” Negan pointed upwards, educating her on the whereabouts of his daughter. How simply he put it made it seem like it was no big deal. “She’s been with that lady that she really likes at the office. The one that’s always been nice to her.”

“I’m sure Maggie is thrilled about that,” she muttered under her breath, clutching tightly to her things when she reached to push the button of the elevator a few more times. There was no reason for it to be taking this long. Especially since no one was lined up for it. “You know, I am enjoying that I get to see you more. I’d be lying if I said otherwise, but you can’t keep showing up at my work like this. You’re going to get me fired if this keeps happening.”

“And?” Negan countered, getting a glare in response that had him throwing his free hand up in defense. “I’m just saying Y/N, if they fired you, I have that job that I offered you the other day. If you didn’t have a job, I would take care of you. So it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal,” she hated the idea that a job that was important to her could be blown off like that. But then again, last night she hadn’t told him about being offered the position and accepting it, so it only made sense that Negan would honestly think that way. Right now was definitely not the time for that discussion to come up. “You haven’t told me why you are here.”

“You know why,” Negan frowned, exhaling loudly when he moved beside her to rest his shoulder against the wall. “I’d like to think that you were thinking about me as much as I was thinking about you.”

“I’ve been thinking about you since the day I met you Negan,” she responded knowing that sounded really pathetic. And truthfully? It was.

“So, with last night…” Negan started, using his free hand to reach up and rub at the back of his head. “Did you uh…did you like what I did?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me that,” she whispered, her chest aching at the thought of what he was undoubtedly bringing up. A lot of her night was spent condemning herself for letting it happen, but another part of her thoroughly enjoyed it. And that made her feel like a terrible person. “Obviously, I liked it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have…you know.”

“And you like my cock?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, his dimples sinking in with an amused rumble falling from his throat with her face flushing over. “The size of it and everything.”

“Is this where you want me to praise you and stroke your ego?” she inquired, her eyes narrowing and by Negan’s expression, she knew that he was longing for it. “Yes Negan, you have a nice cock and you’re good with your mouth. Do you feel better now?”

A smirk tugged at his handsome features and he shrugged his shoulders before clearing his throat, “I also think you’re great with your mouth and I can’t stop thinking about being inside of you. It’s all I can think about. I can’t tell you how much I’ve jerked off in the last few days because of it.”

“Negan, this is all happening really fast and it’s happening at a very complicated time in both of our lives,” she hinted to him, having a hard time looking at him. Because hearing him say something like that had her body heating up with a fire flooding through her veins, but at the same time she knew that the timing was horrible. Right now was really not the time or place for this. “I have always loved spending time with you Negan and in different circumstances, I might really enjoy this conversation, but we’re at my work.”

“I realize that,” Negan huffed following her onto the elevator when it opened. “But there is something going on between us and I just, I don’t want you mad at me. And I really wanna work things out with us. I think the two of us can make things work.”

“Did you break up with Maggie?” she wondered causing Negan’s hopeful expression to leave him and it was replaced with tension. “Yeah, that face is a no. Which tells me you are still dating Maggie and the things that we need to talk about, we can’t.”

“I haven’t talked to Maggie yet. I went home and I told you she was doing something with her family. We didn’t even text or talk last night,” Negan declared, adjusting her items in his arms and he scoffed. “I just wanted to talk to you because I’m fucking upset that you might be angry with me.”

“I’m angry at myself,” she announced, swallowing down hard and staring out at him with an uneasy expression. “You’re still a taken man. You have been for four years. And I very much have a hard time denying you because of how I feel about you. What I’ve done? It’s unforgiveable.”

“It’s not when it’s the person you love,” Negan suggested drawing out a disgusted breath from her throat. “I don’t mean it to sound as bad as it does, but you’ve loved me for such a long time. It should have been you that I ended up with in the first place.”

“But I wasn’t,” she stated clearly what was factual, even if Negan didn’t like to hear it. “It was Maggie. And we can’t go back and change things. You made your decision. It was Maggie. Not me.”

“But now I’m picking you,” Negan insinuated, his head shaking when she looked to the floors that they were going up.

“Who said I even want you to pick me?” she snapped at Negan under her breath as someone else got onto the elevator with them. A dramatic exhale escaped Negan, his thick eyebrows furrowing with him turning toward her. “Maybe I don’t want you anymore.”

“You don’t?” he whispered and it looked like she had just kicked him in the gut. That wasn’t exactly the response she was expecting from him. Especially since he was the one that was dating someone. “But what happened in your apartment and at the bar…”

“They were mistakes,” she insisted, her chest aching at the look that Negan was giving her. “Things we shouldn’t have done. Things that were very wrong.”

“It can’t be wrong when something like that feels so right,” Negan countered and by the body language of the person on the elevator with them, she knew that they had an idea what they were talking about. “It’s not just the sexual stuff either.”

A warmth flooded into her face since they weren’t the only people on that elevator, “it’s the fact that my eyes have been opened to what was really going on. I was taken advantage of. You were treated like shit. And we were purposely kept apart by someone who just wanted to fuck with you and used me to do it.”

“This is a complicated conversation for another time,” she thought aloud noticing that the person in front of them was turning a light shade of red. Having Negan acknowledging that Maggie was using him was something she was surprised to hear, but it wasn’t something that should have been talked about around strangers that worked in the same building as her. “There is a lot to process between the both of us. I know that for sure.”

Thankfully the stranger got off the elevator. Honestly? They pretty much rushed off the elevator once they got to their floor. The moment the elevator doors closed, she felt Negan’s hand reaching out to grasp at her chin. Getting her to turn toward him, Negan’s mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss. Even if she wanted to fight him back, her arms were so full that she couldn’t. But then again? She wasn’t fighting it.

When the door opened again for the elevator, Negan was the one that tipped back leaving her breathless and realizing that it was her floor. Shakily moving out of the elevator, she had Negan following her not far behind. Leaving things like that had her body tremoring with her heart hammering inside of her chest. Negan knew what he was doing to her and he did it well. On her way to Maggie’s office, she managed to take a quick look inside of Guy’s office to see that he was inside talking to someone. When he spotted her, he stood up straight and waved.

Just tipping her head, she acknowledged him, but that didn’t seem to be enough as Guy rushed around the person he was with. A moment later she watched him hit the ground hard after his foot caught the table. Immediately she stopped which had Negan running into her from behind.

“What happened?” Negan looked toward Guy’s office watching Guy pop up from the ground that he had fallen to. Fixing his hair and then his shirt, Guy flashed the person he was with a nervous smile. Without saying anything else, Guy pointed toward the glass door and was swift to pull it open.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re late,” Guy’s dark eyes narrowed giving her a big cheesy smile when he blatantly nodded his head toward Negan as he headed over toward them. “Did you do what I said you should do?”

“Why is he nodding toward me like that?” Negan felt awkward with how obvious Guy was being in the moment. With the three of them standing there, everything was silent between them. Both Guy and Negan were staring out at her, both of them expecting answers from her. “Is this about me?”

Well this was awkward. Guy was asking her if she had sex with Negan and Negan was obviously picking up on it. Pointing to Guy first, she felt hot with his eyebrows bouncing up, “No to you,” she answered Guy who frowned and then when she pointed toward Negan he let out a nervous sound, “And yes to you.”

“I’m confused,” Negan announced, his eyes narrowing when he looked to Guy. “Were the two of you talking about me?”

“Why wouldn’t she be talking about you?” Guy responded making Negan smile and look to her with a tip of his head. Guy gave Negan a scrutinizing look with how he was gazing upon Y/N and Guy huffed when he returned his attention back to Y/N. “Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?”

“Where have you been?” Maggie snapped at Y/N when the sound of her door being open distracted all of them. This was the first time that Y/N found herself thankful that Maggie was there to interrupt something. “You’re hours late and I’m running incredibly behind.”

“Good morning to you too,” Y/N moved around Maggie, rushing into the office. Both men were following her not far behind. Setting the things down that were in her arms, Negan moved in beside her and carefully put down what he had carried for her. Turning to face Maggie, she let out a tense breath with Guy standing behind Maggie. Without Maggie noticing, Guy pointed between both Negan and Y/N. After he did, he made a circle shape with one hand and used the other hand to make a lewd gesture. From what he was doing, she knew that he was asking if she had sex with Negan again. The bad thing? Negan saw it too. With an amused expression, Negan pointed between the two of them and it seemed to excite Guy that Negan was interacting with his question. Holding his hand out, Negan wiggled it from side to side which had excitement flooding into Guy’s features. Maggie was waiting for an answer from Y/N while Guy continued to have a silent conversation with Negan now from behind Maggie. When Guy made a blowjob gesture with his hand and mouth it had her wanting to die on the spot. Instead of seemingly being offended Negan smirked and nodded his head once showing a sense of arrogance with him answering. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” Maggie asked looking over her shoulder at Guy who immediately stopped doing what he was to act like he was brushing his fingers through his hair. With Maggie turned away, Y/N smacked at the center of Negan’s chest with the back of her hand having Negan dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “Why are all three of you acting so weird? And Negan…? Why are you here?”

“Oh,” Negan didn’t know what to say, his face hot with amusement that Y/N was so embarrassed with what him and Guy had just done. There was a look in Y/N’s eyes that showed she was nervous with Negan’s expression becoming determined. “Actually Maggie, there is something that I need to talk to you about.”

“Not here you don’t,” she stressed to Negan, placing her hand in over the center of his chest trying to get him to leave.  

“Yeah, yes I do,” Negan didn’t seem to agree with her, fumbling with her hands to get her to stop trying to force him out. By everything that was going on, there was an obvious excitement growing inside of Guy. He was just happy to be there in that moment. Dramatically moving over toward the couch in Maggie’s room, Guy lowered down and sat at the edge. His brown eyes were locked on them. Moving around Y/N, Negan motioned Maggie to take a seat at her desk. Feeling like the world was spinning around her, Y/N headed over to the couch to take a seat next to Guy. Burying her head into her hands, she felt Guy nudge her and she gradually lifted her head up. “I think we both can agree that things have been kinda different over the last few weeks between us.”

“So you gave him a blowjob?” Guy questioned, lifting his hand just enough to hide from Maggie what he was saying while whispering. Glaring at Guy, she tried to hush him. There was color flooding into her face and she wished she was somewhere else. “Did you like it? How big is it? Did he go down on you? Was he any good?”

“Not here,” she stressed to him, her face tensing up realizing that Maggie had noticed the two of them whispering and bickering with one another. Waving her hand about Y/N acted like it was no big deal with Guy snickering. Lazily dragging himself back, Guy got comfortable on the couch and wrapped his arm around the back of it. With the other, he brushed his fingers through his dark hair and sighed.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about how the last few weeks have been different for us,” Maggie spoke louder drawing both Guy and Y/N to look at her while Negan and Maggie interacted. “I know things get very busy during the holidays both here and in our lives.”

“It’s not just that,” Negan interrupted Maggie, his hands raising trying to get a moment to speak even though it seemed like Maggie wanted to take over the conversation. “I just don’t think the two of us are really like we used to be.”

“Oh, you must be good,” Guy turned toward Y/N, whispering in her ear when he picked up on the fact that Negan was attempting to break up with Maggie. “You blow him once and he wants to dump her on the spot.”

“Knock it off,” she begged of him, pushing him slightly away from her with Guy sucking down on his bottom lip.

“I’ve been slacking, I know,” Maggie reasoned with Negan and it was obvious that she was distracted with both Guy and Y/N being there. She didn’t like it, but Y/N also knew that Maggie was irritated that Guy was so relaxed with Y/N at this point. “And you’re probably upset about tonight. You wanted me to go to that dinner with your parents and I never really gave you an answer…”

“Dinner with my parents?” Negan thought aloud. A moment later realization seemingly struck when he lifted his hand and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Right, we’re supposed to meet my parents for dinner tonight.”

“Well, tonight I have something I have to do for work,” Maggie announced with Negan scoffing at the idea of it, dropping his hand down at his side. “But after tonight, I think we should really focus on us honey. The two of us can just spend every night after work together. Do things for Christmas like you like to do.”

“You have something to do for work?” Guy called out, crossing his legs with his expressive eyebrows bouncing up. “Really? What is it that you have to do? Because I’m unaware of any meetings going on.”

“That’s because one of our clients called me this morning to change the date,” Maggie was quick to excuse what she was saying with Guy’s face twisting in confusion. “So I’m having dinner with them tonight instead and…”

“Really?” Guy feigned being surprised placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “Which client was that? Because I should probably make sure that I make a note of it in the calendars.”

“We’ll do that later,” Maggie insisted, waving her hand about to silence Guy who gave an amused wrinkle of his nose with the way that Y/N was staring out at him. “Regardless Negan, I think we should start focusing on us more.”

“And that’s what I want to focus on for a minute,” Negan asserted, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. Stretching out his fingers, Negan cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about things and…”

“You know what?” Maggie interrupted him, throwing her finger up in the air to motion him to stop speaking for a second. “I know it’s early, but since it’s close to Christmas, to show you how much I look forward to spending time with you, I think I should give you one of these.”

“Maggie, come on,” Negan slurred, throwing his hand up in the air again frustrated when she headed over toward a filing cabinet that she had. When she opened the bottom drawer it had Y/N scoffing out when she realized what Maggie was going for. Presents that Y/N had previously bought for the people in Maggie’s life. Presents that Maggie had never even seen nor wrapped. After digging around, she pulled out one of the presents and pushed the door closed. Heading over to Negan, she held it out toward him and it had Negan sucking in a sharp breath of air. “What’s this?”

“A Christmas present,” Maggie pushed the wrapped present in closer toward Negan who swallowed down hard when he looked at it. “Go ahead. Open it.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Negan suggested going to set it down, but Maggie instead grabbed the present. She unwrapped it herself and shoved it toward Negan who looked down at the box. Huffing out, Negan pulled open the box and his face twisted with an emotion they couldn’t read. Reaching for the pocket watch that was inside, Negan gazed upon it and let out a trembling breath when he dragged his thumb down over the front of it.

“Do you like it?” Maggie was curious drawing out an anger from Y/N who tried to keep her mouth shut. “It was made specifically for you.”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful,” Negan looked at the engraving over the front that had a compass with a butterfly at the center of it. “It’s a very thoughtful gift Maggie.”

“Yeah, wow…” Y/N stood up from the couch in beside Negan to place her hand in under his. Looking over the pocket watch, she cleared her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she could tell that it looked like Guy was having the time of his life watching them. “Where did you get this done?”

Glaring out at Y/N, Maggie looked furious. There was no way that Maggie knew where it was from because Maggie had nothing to do with it, “I just think this is such a nice design that maybe I would be willing to do one myself for someone.”

“I don’t uh…I don’t really remember the name of it,” Maggie lied, her green eyes locked on Y/N’s when Y/N gave a firm nod. “I’ll get back to you with it.”

“And of course you know the meaning behind this, right?” Y/N confirmed knowing that before Christmas she would often go through a rundown of the things that she had bought people for Maggie. What they meant to them and anything of that sort. This one? Maggie would certainly have no fucking clue what it was for.

“Y/N?” Negan breathed out, his eyes narrowing with him staring down at her with confusion. Yeah, this was petty of her and she knew that, but it was clear that Maggie picked up on the fact that Negan was going to try to break up with her. So she was using the present as a way to guilt him into not doing it. It would be one thing if it was an actual gift that Maggie got for Negan herself, but since it was one that Y/N had gotten for Negan, it really pissed her off.

“I’m just curious what the story behind it is,” she didn’t care if this made anyone feel uncomfortable because it had been too long that Maggie got away with taking advantage of things. “I’m sure you know it’s a nod to Negan’s father with the compass and the butterfly, right?”

There was a silence between them. Even Negan’s eyes were locked on Maggie waiting for her answer and it made Maggie feel on the spot, “Of course I know it’s something to do with his father. I’m the one that got it for him after all.”

A long exhale escaped Negan’s throat and he stood there for a moment longer. Lowering his stare down to the pocket watch, Negan closed the box back up and lowered it down to set it on the corner of the desk, “Negan?”

What Maggie didn’t know is that it had nothing to do with Negan’s father and everything to do with Jordyn. So her answer only proved to Negan that she didn’t have anything to do with that present and he was visibly disappointed with her.

“We really need to talk,” Negan whispered to Maggie only to be interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking back over his shoulder, Negan scoffed when he saw Daryl standing at the door of Maggie’s office. “What the fuck?”

“Hey,” Daryl grunted, a sense of awkwardness flooding through him at the sight of everyone standing around looking so tense. All eyes were on him and it was a different array of emotions. Negan looked frustrated. Maggie was angry. Y/N was surprised and Guy was genuinely curious. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything here.”

“Oh no,” Guy could tell that Daryl meant something to Y/N with the way she was staring out at him. And that only intrigued him more. “We’re not really going through anything too intense here. Who are you?”

“Daryl,” he said bluntly as if Guy would know who he was. Daryl’s blue eyes locked with Y/N’s and he could sense that she was uncomfortable. Pointing between him and Y/N, Daryl didn’t bother to look at Guy when he spoke. “I’m a friend of Y/N’s. I was just dropping off something for her that I thought she would like to have.”

Right now? She didn’t hate the idea of having Daryl interrupt things. It was awkward enough as it was being between Negan and Maggie. Things had gone south and Daryl offered up an escape from all of this. Moving forward, she grabbed a hold of Daryl’s arm and motioned him to follow her out in the hallway. If Negan was really going through with dumping Maggie, her nor Guy should have been in that office. It was something that should have been done alone. And after the ass she made of herself to prove that Maggie was a liar? Y/N didn’t think she should be around if Negan did indeed break up with Maggie because it would be partially her fault and enrage Maggie.

Daryl stumbled to keep up with her when she took him to the lobby area of the office. From where she was standing, she could see that Guy was straining his neck to watch her with Daryl. Occasionally he seemed to steal a quick look back at Negan and Maggie, but it seemed like Guy couldn’t decide who he wanted to pay attention to more.

“What’d I just walk into?” Daryl snickered, pointing back toward the office where Guy was still very much watching the two of them together. “Everyone looked like they were gonna shit themselves.”

“I…I don’t know,” she lied, waving her hand about trying to get Daryl to give his attention back to her instead. As of the last few days, she really hadn’t kept up with Daryl about the things going on in her life and she figured he would be upset if he knew that Negan was attempting to break up with Maggie for her. “What are you doing here? You never come here to see me at work.”

“Oh,” Daryl pointed down toward the bag that was on his arm. “I finished that painting you paid me for. I was supposed to give it to you tonight, but plans came up. I can’t hang out. So I brought it here. In case you needed it.”

“You have plans?” she repeated, amused to hear that since Daryl never seemed to be someone who had something to do. The whole time she knew Daryl, he was a loner. For the longest time she thought she was his only friend. “Since when?”

“Oh, haha,” Daryl rolled his eyes, shaking his head and brushing his hair over his shoulder. Avoiding her question about plans was odd for Daryl. Having him be vague with her was not normal for him. “I think you’ll like the painting.”

Reaching for the bag, she gave him a weak smile and stepped forward to wrap her arm loosely around him to pull him in for a hug. Uncomfortably hugging her back, Daryl didn’t seem to know what to do when she released an overwhelmed breath.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl questioned, leaning back enough to stare down at her with his blue eyes. That was the kind of relationship she had with Daryl. Now, he could realize when something was wrong by the way she was breathing. That was both a good and bad thing. “I can tell something ain’t right.”

“I’m just overwhelmed. These last few days have been intense,” she explained and it had Daryl’s face scrunching up since he expected more from her. “It’s just been a crazy time here. One thing after another keeps happening and I’m doing my best to keep up with everything. You only know a small bit of what has happened.”

“There’s more? Since I was at your apartment?” Daryl questioned, folding his arms out in front of his chest when he rocked back and forth on his feet. “What’s up? You always tell me things.”

“It’s just been…busy and I’ve been lacking sleep,” she made an excuse that she knew wasn’t a good one. This really wasn’t like her friendship with Daryl. Most of the time she told him everything, that’s how they had grown so close. “Yesterday, Guy offered me an official position. One like Maggie had when she first started working here. At the beginning of the year, I will have my own office and everything. Today he was supposed to up my pay. He had me work one-on-one with him the other day and I guess he started to see my talent.”

“Huh?” Daryl scoffed, his face scrunching up in disbelief. There was a disgust that flooded into his features and he dramatically shook his head. “You’re not that ignorant, right?”

“I’m sorry?” she didn’t know how to respond because that kind of blunt response was not what she was expecting. “I don’t…”

“You can’t believe that shit, right?” Daryl snorted, his hands dropping down at his sides when he shook his head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Guy had pulled himself up from the couch to sit on the arm of it to watch them when he noticed the body language changing between her and Daryl. There was no hiding that Guy was snooping on them together. “I thought we both agreed that this company was bad for you.”

“Well, yeah…” she paused to consider what Daryl was saying and she cleared her throat. “It took something ridiculous to get Guy to notice me, but…”

“Did you fuck him?” Daryl interrupted her, surprising her with the venom that was added to his tone when he asked her. “That how you got your job offer?”

“No, of course not,” she responded, her throat growing dry that he would even think that she would let that happen. “We just worked together the other day and he was impressed with what I was doing. About my knowledge of things and he offered me the job.”

“What about Carol?” Daryl reminded her of the offer he had for her with leaving this company to go to a rival one where someone he used to date worked and was in charge.

“I considered it,” she reasoned with Daryl feeling guilty with the way that Daryl was gazing upon her like she had done something horribly wrong. “You know that I wanted to make it on my own Daryl. And while I appreciated you wanting to help me with Carol, I was never comfortable having you hook me up with someone that you slept with when you were younger.”

“How are you making it on your own when Vixen only hired you because he wants to fuck you?” Daryl snapped at her causing a lump to develop in her throat. This was a feeling that she wasn’t used to with Daryl. “You’ve been here for four years and you got squat. But now you are okay with getting the intro job that Maggie got when she started? Does he know that you have been doing Maggie’s job since the moment she got here?”

“No, I haven’t said anything…” she swallowed down hard with that question. Even though she was angry with Maggie, she still didn’t have the want to get Maggie completely fired. Because there was still that promise that she made to Hershel years ago to take care of Maggie. “I thought maybe this was my chance to make a name for myself.”

“And when he finally has sex with you, then what?” Daryl threw his hands up, his brow line creasing as he waited for her to answer. “You’re putting everything on the line for a guy that just wants to have sex with you. He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re a game for him. Something he can’t have so he wants it. When you finally give it to him, he is going to spit you up and throw you out.”

“And what makes you think I’ll sleep with him?” she retorted, almost offended that he wasn’t saying that like it was a possibility. No, he was stressing what he was saying like it was a fact.

“Oh come on. Look at him,” Daryl threw his hand up in the direction of Guy who was now standing at the glass panel walls watching them with his hands pushed into his pockets. When Daryl pointed at Guy, Guy looked over his shoulder to see what Daryl was pointing at, but then realized it was him that Daryl was now directing things toward. “This guy was your fucking hero growing up. You hero worship his ass. And it don’t hurt that he’s pretty too.”

Truthfully? She was offended. How was she going to respond to that?

“He also was fucking Maggie too and you seem to be drawn to men like that,” Daryl slurred, growling as the words left his lips. The expression that flooded over her features showed him that she was hurt by that comment and he dramatically shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Ouch,” was all she mustered up, lowering her head down to look at the ground. “Obviously you don’t agree with my decision to accept the job position here.”

“No, I don’t,” Daryl answered, throwing his hand up in the direction of the office again. “I thought the idea was to get you away from Maggie. Being here? You’re going to be just as abused if not more. Does Maggie know about this?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, knowing that things would be much worse if Maggie knew the lengths that Guy had gone to get her to agree to the position he was offering her. “We both know that she wouldn’t be this calm if she knew.”

“You do remember that this guy ignored you for four years, right?” Daryl reminded her what had been going on since she started her job here. A warmth flooded into her face feeling like she was being scolded like a child from Daryl. “Guy Vixen is a piece of shit. No matter how much you looked up to him.”

“While I don’t deny that,” she started, but Daryl held his hands up to silence her, scoffing when he looked her over. What could she say to disprove that? Both her and Guy agreed the other day that he was an asshole. “I think Guy and I have an understanding with one another…”

“If you would have just let me help you from the start, you could have had a job for the last four years doing what you love. Sure, it wouldn’t be under your damn hero, but it would have been a job. Where you wouldn’t have been somebody’s slave. You might have actually been successful. Better than Maggie,” Daryl lectured her realizing that he was making her feel bad about everything, but he was just letting things go at this point. “But no, you remained loyal to every asshat in that room. Maggie cus’ of some stupid promise you made to her dad. Guy cus’ you wanted to be exactly like him. And Negan cus’ you were just so damn in love with him. And what has it gotten you?”

“Please stop,” she begged of him, looking around the office noticing that people were hearing them fighting and it made her ill at ease.

“Here, I’ll tell you. Maggie treats you like scum. She ain’t your friend. She never was. And Guy? You’ve been a nobody to him until he decided you were worth a damn cus’ you clean up well. And Negan? Would you like the list of what it’s gotten you? What will it get you?” Daryl continued on, embarrassing her even further when he rolled his eyes at her. “He’ll fuck you, more than he already has. And then when he gets the cake, he won’t need the cow. No cus’ he already has the cow. And he doesn’t want another one. You’re the person people just want to fuck Y/N.”

“What has gotten into you?” she spoke up finally with her voice broken alerting him to the fact that what he was saying was upsetting her. “You really don’t think very highly of me right now. Do you?”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious. Do you really think Guy is gonna give you what you want?” Daryl’s southern drawl dragged out allowing his frustration to shine through. “You’re putting a lot of faith into men that have treated you like shit lately.”

Even though she didn’t like what he was saying, she realized that he was right about her. She knew that she was pathetic with things, but she was actually hopeful that something good could come from this job.

“In that room are two men that have treated you like shit and have taken advantage of your hard work along with your kindness for years,” Daryl repeated what he had already pretty much said to her, pointing again toward the office, but she didn’t need to look. “Now that they both want something from you, you’re allowing it.”

“It’s not that I’m allowing it,” she tried to defend herself, taking a moment to think things over. What exactly could she say to Daryl? The longer Daryl waited for a response from her, the angrier he seemed to get with her.

“Daryl!” the sound of Jordyn’s voice called out, interrupting the two of them. Looking back over his shoulder, Daryl saw Jordyn running up to him and he turned to meet her halfway. Picking her up in his arms, Daryl brought her in closer to his chest with Jordyn wrapping her arms tightly around him to hug him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too pipsqueak,” Daryl tapped at the tip of Jordyn’s nose causing her to giggle at the nickname he always called her. This was normal for the two of them. Since she had been in Jordyn’s life for so long and she was pretty much Jordyn’s adopted mother, Daryl was very much someone that Jordyn was used to. “Damn, you’ve grown at least a foot since I last saw you.”

“No I haven’t,” Jordyn dropped her head in against Daryl’s shoulder while he worked to keep her safe in his arms. “You saw me like a month ago.”

“And I swear you’ve grown that much since,” Daryl continued to play with Jordyn, his expression becoming very dramatic with the way that he was talking to her. Quickly he was able to put up a front with Jordyn hiding that he was irritated with Y/N rather fast. “You were supposed to come over and finish that painting with me.”

“We have to make time to do that,” Jordyn confessed pulling out a big smile from Daryl which was pretty rare. One of the last times that Y/N had taken Jordyn over to Daryl’s place the two of them painted together and Daryl had given Jordyn her own canvas to paint on. “You got any good stories for me?”

Hearing that from Jordyn made Y/N smile. Daryl was always telling her over the top stories that would make her laugh. A lot of the stories would be something that matched whatever painting Daryl was working on at the time. And Jordyn always got a kick out of them. Before Daryl could respond, voices were heard and they looked to see that everyone had left Maggie’s office. Slowly the group approached them and that just made everything even more uncomfortable.

“Negan and I talked about tonight,” Maggie spoke up, surprising Y/N that she didn’t seem at all upset with whatever was going on. Negan was looking down, his expression distant while Maggie waved her hand about to get Y/N’s attention. “Tonight, you are going to go with Jordyn and Negan to have dinner with his parents.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I have plans,” Daryl whispered under his breath looking to Y/N with his eyes narrowing out at her. That was meant to be a dig at her since they were originally supposed to spend time together tonight until he came here to cancel.

“Since I have that important meeting tonight,” Maggie began making Y/N furious that she was still lying about everything and telling Y/N what she was going to do with her life. “You’re better to go to that than me. I know you love Negan’s parents, so this will give you the opportunity to spend time with them.”

“Maybe I should have been asked first?” she blurt out, looking between Negan and Maggie throwing her hand up in the air. Guy was unhurriedly walking behind the two of them, his big brown eyes wide while he eavesdropped on everything. “I could have had plans for tonight.”

“I think that’s a great idea having you come,” Jordyn spoke up, her voice drawing Y/N to look back at her again. “I would love to go to dinner with you tonight.”

Of course having Jordyn say that meant that she would undoubtedly go because she wasn’t about to tell Jordyn no now that she got the idea in her head. Instead of responding, Y/N just nodded her head and it made Daryl scoff at how easily she crumbled.

“The hell are you doing here?” Maggie scowled when she realized that Daryl was there beside her. It always irritated Maggie whenever Daryl was around because they hated one another and never hid it. And more so it always pissed Maggie off that Jordyn appeared to like Daryl more than she liked Maggie.

“It’s great to see you too sk…” Daryl paused, sucking down on his bottom lip when it struck him that Jordyn was in his arms. “Maggie.”

Stepping forward, Negan pushed his hands into his pockets and was making himself known to Daryl which had Daryl smirking, “Hey there Negan. How are things doing today? Are you a little less stiff than you were the last time I saw you?”

Immediately, color flooded into Negan’s face and the lines in his forehead grew deeper knowing what Daryl was hinting at. Reaching for Jordyn who seemed confused, Y/N pulled Jordyn into her arms making sure to have a good grasp on her when she back stepped away from the group.

“I’m doing great Daryl, it’s so damn nice to see you,” Negan responded, his eyes locking with Daryl’s when he extended his hand out to place it in over Daryl’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “Thank you for your concern about everything, but I’m doing just fine now. I’m glad to know that you couldn’t get that off your mind. I’m sure you weren’t used to seeing something so big.”

Coughing from behind them, Guy’s brown eyes were big with everyone turning to looking at him. Feigning coughing again, Guy placed his hand in over the center of his chest and winced, “Allergies. They are killer this time of year.”

“When did the two of you see each other last?” Maggie questioned trying to get Negan’s attention with Negan’s hazel eyes still heavily focused on Daryl. “And what are you talking about?”

“A while ago,” Daryl lied, his eyelashes fluttering when he looked toward Maggie who was expecting the answer from Negan. “Negan here had a muscle cramp that he just couldn’t get rid of. And he started a project that he couldn’t finish. A very disappointing one at that.”

“Oh, I could have finished it. And it would have been amazing, but then you showed up,” Negan explained and it had Y/N rolling her eyes. Guy let out another amused sound but tried to turn away from the group to hide it. “You’re pretty good at showing up unannounced.”

“And you’re pretty good at never coming on time,” Daryl responded, tipping his head toward Maggie with a huff. “Or in the right place.”

Realizing that was Daryl’s subtle way of attacking him for sleeping with Maggie, Negan’s Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and he sucked in a sharp breath of air, “Now I feel I’ve overstayed my welcome. I have some things to get done before my plans tonight.”

Moving forward, Daryl patted Negan on the stomach with the back of his hand. A scoff escaped Negan’s throat when Daryl’s eyebrows bounced up when he looked at Maggie. Yeah, he wasn’t going to say goodbye to her. Stopping beside Y/N, Daryl placed a faint kiss at her cheek before doing the same with Jordyn. “Don’t forget that painting we have to finish pipsqueak.”

“Bye Daryl,” she waved as he back stepped toward the elevators.

“It was nice to meet you Daryl,” Guy piped in from behind everyone, throwing his hand up having both Negan and Maggie look back over their shoulders at him from where he was standing between them. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“Come on honey, I think we should allow Y/N and Maggie to get to work,” Negan held his hands out for Jordyn to join him, but instead Jordyn frowned. Clinging tighter to Y/N Jordyn shook her head and Negan frowned.

“Can I stay at work with Y/N?” Jordyn asked, hooking her arms tighter around Y/N’s shoulders.

“I don’t know if Mr. Vixen here would be okay with that,” Maggie spoke up, pointing back toward Guy who shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s really busy right now and…”

“Nonsense, she can stay if Negan is okay with it,” Guy interrupted Maggie’s thoughts, stepping forward to make his opinion known. “I actually was still in need of Y/N’s help today and I have a big table in my office. We can set her up at a place and give her something to draw if she’d like. We’ll make sure that she gets some juice and I’ll even buy her lunch.”

“Are you sure?” Negan confirmed with Guy who nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders before giving a nod. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine if Y/N is okay with it.”

“I will never turn down getting to spend time with Jordyn,” Y/N announced with Negan bobbing his head from side to side. Something in Negan’s expression showed that he was uneasy at the idea of leaving Jordyn here. Maggie had never really let her stay before like this, so it wasn’t something that Negan was used to. “I’ll call you when we’re done so you can come and get us.”

“Sounds good,” Negan stepped forward, considering kissing Y/N, but stopped and instead pressed a loving kiss against Jordyn’s temple. If anyone had half a brain, they could tell by the body language between Negan and Y/N that something was going on between them. “You be good for Y/N, okay?”

“Promise,” Jordyn gave Negan a big, cheesy smile with excitement flooding her veins at the idea of getting to stay at work with them.

“Why don’t you follow me into my office?” Guy waved them on, leaving Maggie to herself out in the hallway. Maggie hated this and Y/N knew that. Even though Maggie wasn’t terrible with Jordyn, she never really went above and beyond with her. So having Jordyn here was a discomfort for Maggie. And Maggie probably wanted to rip Y/N’s head off after the stunt she pulled with the pocket watch. Inside Guy’s office, he was already setting up a place for Jordyn while she stood with Jordyn in her arms. “Why don’t you go get your things that you were working on yesterday Y/N and I can set Jordyn up here with something.”

Carefully lowering Jordyn down to the ground, she allowed Jordyn to follow Guy who was talking in a different tone of voice while he was having a conversation with Jordyn. Being alone with Maggie was not something that Y/N was looking forward to. But what was a nice surprise was that when she headed into Maggie’s office, she found it empty. Maggie wasn’t there and that was strange. But it made it easier for her to grab her things and make a quick escape.

Heading back into Guy’s office, she smirked when she saw that Jordyn was already in a seat at the side of the desk with a drawing pad in front of her. Guy was kneeling down beside her handing her over a pencil while Y/N set up her things at the end of the table.

“Do you like dresses?” Guy asked Jordyn, who gave him a dramatic nod and a big smile. “How about this, you draw me a dress that you would like to wear and I will have it made for you. What do you think about that?”

“Really?” Jordyn seemed shocked to hear that and Guy gave her a firm nod. “You mean it?”

“I promise,” Guy swore placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “Your mom here works really hard and I think that would be a nice present for you to have.”

“My mom?” Jordyn repeated what Guy had said looking back toward Y/N with her big hazel eyes. Giving a tiny smile, Jordyn nodded. Never before had she really called Y/N her mother, but when she turned back to look at Guy she giggled. “Yeah, my mom is pretty awesome.”

“I think so too,” Guy winked, his eyes locking with Y/N’s noticing that she was getting emotional over the fact that Jordyn just called her that. He could tell that it meant something to her. Trying to avoid embarrassing her about it, he stood up from the table and moved over toward his miniature fridge that he had in his office. “Is there a juice that you like sweetheart? Apple? Orange? Grape?”

Tipping back in her chair, Jordyn’s eyes squinted getting a look at what was inside, “Can I just have some water?”

“You got it kiddo,” Guy grabbed a bottle of water and closed up the fridge. Heading back over toward Jordyn, Guy held it out and she happily accepted the bottle from him. “If you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” Jordyn kicked her legs about looking back to Y/N who was staring upon the two of them with awe in her eyes. “This is awesome.”

Throughout the day, Jordyn had asked Guy if he would give them a tour around the place. Which was kind of silly since Maggie and Y/N had done it before, but Guy happily obliged taking them from place to place. Surprisingly Jordyn was very good and focused on the things that she was doing. Other than the walk they went on and the break they took for lunch, Jordyn was focused on the job that Guy had given her. Toward the end of the day, Jordyn pushed the pad of paper forward.

“Can I get your opinion on this?” Jordyn looked to Y/N who stood up from her end of the table and made her way around. Looking down at the drawing that Jordyn came up with made Y/N smile. It was very colorful and had flowers in the design, but for a child it was a pretty good drawing. “Do you think this would make a good dress?”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Y/N complimented Jordyn, pulling the pad of paper in close to give it another look over. “Would you like wearing something like this?”

“Yeah! Do you know how cool it would be to tell people the dress I’m wearing is something I designed?” Jordyn boasted drawing Guy to stand up from where he was seated to move in beside Y/N. Reaching for the pad of paper, Guy gave a weak smile and Jordyn looked back at him. “So what do you think? You think you could make me that?”

“I think we can do that,” Guy winked, heading over toward his desk to set the paper down. “Your talented just like your mother. You’ll be working here in no time.”

“No shit! You think so?” Jordyn’s reaction had both Y/N and Guy bursting out in laughter and Y/N hushed her. Most children her age didn’t talk like that so it wasn’t something people were used to. “What? I’m excited.”

“And that’s where her father’s genes shine through,” Y/N noted, knowing that the swearing definitely came from Negan. “Her father has the mouth of a sailor and her first word was probably…well…”

“It’s a bad one,” Jordyn explained to Guy very dramatically, waving her hands in the air like it was no big deal. “It starts with an f and I’m pretty sure it’s my daddy’s favorite word. We have an agreement that I can swear as long as it’s around my family. But out in public I have to hold it in. Have respect.”

“They do say people who swear are actually smarter than those who don’t,” Guy told them seemingly amused with the whole thing. “I used to always tell my mother that whenever she tried to correct me on it too as a kid.”

“I think I wanna go show Maggie,” Jordyn seemed excited to show someone else the drawing, getting up from the table. Grabbing the drawing for her, Guy held it out and she eagerly accepted it. “I’ll be right back.”

Waiting for Jordyn to leave, Y/N sighed loudly when Guy stepped in beside her, “Thank you for this.”

“For what?” Guy stammered, his dark eyes locking with hers when she turned to look at him.

“For being nice to her,” she reminded Guy, throwing her hand up toward where Jordyn had just run off to. “You didn’t have to be this nice to her. She’s going to think this is the coolest thing ever for a while. And she’ll probably tell everyone about the dress that you are going to make for her.”

“I do intend to have it made for her,” Guy promised with a bounce of his eyebrows, his English accent growing stronger. “I keep my promises.”

“Good,” she gave him a nod, leaning forward to loosely wrap her arms around Guy who seemed to not know what to do when she hugged him.

“What are you doing?” Guy grunted, holding his hands up and letting out a tense sound.

“Just give me a hug you weirdo,” she requested, amused that it took Guy a good minute before he wrapped his arms loosely around her to return the gesture. “I promise I won’t tell anyone that you were nice and you hugged me.”

“Good because I’m not going to start handing out hugs for group moral,” Guy hissed at the idea as she stepped back and away from him with an entertained expression. “I’m willing to make exceptions for you because of your kid being here, but…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re a stone-cold prick, I’ll keep it in mind,” she teased him, shoving playfully at his shoulder getting Guy to stumble back and give her a tiny smile. The sound of the door being pulled open was heard and they both looked to Jordyn returning. “Did you show her?”

“She wasn’t here. She must have left, but I showed it to that lady that is always really nice to me,” Jordyn announced, returning back to Guy to hand the drawing over to him. Setting it down on top of the desk, Guy opened one of the drawers and pulled out one of his measuring tapes. “What’s that for?”

“Well, if I have to make your dress, I need to know what size to make it,” Guy educated her, having Jordyn stand a specific way so he could get her measurements. After writing them down, Guy went to get up, but he felt Jordyn jumping forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders to give him a hug as well. “Oh, wow. Your family is very hug happy.”

“Thank you Mr. Vixen,” Jordyn appreciated what Y/N’s boss was doing for her, giving Guy another big squeeze before stepping back. “You’re a pretty cool guy.”

“Well thank you,” Guy blurt out, standing up to see that Y/N was staring out at him with a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re a pretty cool kid yourself.”

“Here, why don’t you call your daddy to let him know that we will be done soon,” Y/N reached for her phone handing it off to Jordyn who eagerly accepted her phone. “I’ll just finish up what I have here and then we can get going.”

“So,” Guy moved over toward the end of the table where Y/N was still working. Jordyn headed toward the corner of the large office to call Negan leaving the two of them to themselves. “Are you going to tell me about your Daryl friend?”

“Since when did you become my girlfriend that I gossiped with?” she tipped her head to the side causing Guy to feign being offended, dramatically placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “Daryl is just a really good friend of mine.”

“Just a friend?” Guy’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, biting down on his bottom lip and humming out. He was making it clear that he didn’t believe her. “See, it felt like there was a war going on between two alphas over you. Either that or they had sex and they were angry at one another.”

Hearing that caused Y/N to choke and then laugh, looking to make sure that Jordyn was still distracted on the phone with her father, “There wasn’t an alpha war between them,” she denied that idea, clearing her throat when she realized that Daryl did seem to be a smartass whenever he was around Negan lately. That wasn’t a lie. “Daryl just isn’t the biggest fan of Negan.”

“Because of your affection toward Negan?” Guy pushed further wanting more details, but she wasn’t about to give it to him. “What was the comment about earlier with the whole stiff thing? Did Daryl walk in on something between the two of you?”

“Guy, Jordyn is in the room,” she pointed off toward where Jordyn was on the phone talking to Negan. Guy was desperate for an answer but she wasn’t about to give him one. “We’re also not going to start talking about my sex life together.”

“Who cares if Jordyn hears? You both are her parents. I think children will eventually understand that their parents have sex in their life,” Guy suggested, waving his hand about, but still remaining silent. “Did Daryl see the two of you having sex?”

“Guy!” she huffed out, her eyes getting big when she dropped down the pen that she was using. Throwing his hands up in the air defensively, Guy acted like what he said wasn’t that big of a deal. “Listen, I haven’t…the two of us…we haven’t fully….”

“Had sex?” Guy finished for her, nodding his head about. His chiseled jawline flexed with her looking down toward the ground with color flushing into her face. “Okay, so there was something that happened between the two of you. From Negan, I know that you gave him a blowjob. But what about Daryl? Have the two of you had sex?”

By the expression that she gave him, that was all Guy needed to know that he was right about the two of them having something more than a friendship, “That one surprises me. He doesn’t look like he would be your type. Does he have a big…” Guy paused, looking toward the corner again to make sure that Jordyn was distracted. “You know?”

“I’m not doing this,” she warned him trying to go back to working on what she had to finish, but Guy stopped her from doing that. “Daryl and I have been friends for a very long time. He’s always been there for me when I needed him and vice versa.”

“Hmm…” Guy hummed, stroking his fingers against the side of his face and he huffed loudly. “So you can’t fit me in as one of your moments of being there for you before you hook up with either one of them?”

“I’m not having sex with you,” she snapped, quieter than before causing him to chuckle at the way she reacted to herself when she said that in the same room as Jordyn. “I told you why I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know you told me why, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep trying,” Guy frowned, looking to make sure that Jordyn was still distracted while they were talking. “Clearly you are in some kind of love triangle and I’m okay with that. We can just do it once, we can be over with it and I won’t fall in love with you. I wouldn’t want to make things worse between the two men already fighting over you.”

“Gee, thanks,” she snickered at the idea provoking Guy to nod like it was actually a good thing that he offered her. It made her laugh that he was so oblivious to everything, but it was what it was. Nothing would change the way that Guy was. “I’m sure you have much hotter people falling at your feet. I’m nothing in comparison to some of the people I’ve seen hanging all over you.”

“Yeah, but they are fake,” he insisted with a loud sigh, leaning back against the table to rest on his elbow drawing out a laugh from her. “I don’t think you would ever use me to get what you want. You’re not like other people that we know.”

Hearing Jordyn start to finish up, Guy frowned and shrugged his shoulders, “The offer is always on the table. Whether you want to talk to me about your personal life or you want me to be part of your personal life. I’m just putting it out there.”

“Thanks for that,” she tapped her hand against the top of the table when Jordyn returned with her cell phone. Getting up from the table, Guy gave her a dramatic expression as he backstepped toward his desk. Reaching for Jordyn, Y/N pulled her up into her lap and wrapped her up in a big hug. “Did you get a hold of your father?”

“I did, he said he would pick us up in a few,” Jordyn informed her, giggling when Y/N peppered kisses against her cheek.

“Did you have a good day?” Y/N questioned noticing that Guy was watching her and Jordyn from where he was seated at his desk.

“It was fun,” Jordyn answered, leaning further back into Y/N’s arms. “I’ll be excited to see how my dress looks in real life.”

“I tell you what? I’ve been following Guy’s work most of my life and if he makes it for you? I promise you that it will be beautiful,” she reached up to tap at the tip of Jordyn’s nose causing Negan’s daughter to smile brightly. There seemed to be something running through Guy’s mind when he lowered his head and let out a long exhale. Instead of focusing on her boss, she gave her attention to Jordyn and wrapped her up tightly in her arms. “So I promise you, it will be amazing. Just like you.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat @dilfsandmartinis

[myderis]

savior ꒱ phainon 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.5k

"Quick, hide me!" you were in a total panic running to PHAINON using him like a human shield as your hands found a place on his back, gently tugging his cape. Although he didn't have time to react, he knew you were in big trouble if you were looking for him. "What is it this time, my lady? You stole another scroll, rode a droma unsupervised, scammed someone, or—?"

"Where is she?" you panicked even more hearing the voice of none other than Mydei and his footsteps that could tear the ground apart, and maybe even your dignity. "Where's who?" Phainon's calm voice carried just enough to sound believable. He didn’t flinch as the prince’s towering frame loomed closer, his eyes blazing like twin suns. The Deliverer shrugged slightly, ensuring his broad frame blocked you from sight as you pressed closer to his back, your heart pounding like a war drum.

"You know exactly who I’m talking about," Mydei growled. His tone was edged with frustration, and you could almost feel his glare cutting through the space between them. "She drank all of my pomegranate juice. Do you have any idea how long I waited for the harvest? Where is she?" At those words, your stomach twisted with guilt and fear. You hadn’t meant to drink all of it… but it was just so good.

Phainon tilted his head, considering. "Pomegranate juice, you say? That’s tragic. But alas, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her.” leaning casually against a pillar as if Mydei’s wrath was the least of his worries. "Perhaps she’s taken to the market? Or gone to annoy someone else?" 

Mydei hesitated, uncertain whether to believe Phainon or keep pressing him for answers. After a long, tense pause, he sighed, not wanting to bother himself anymore.

"Fine. If you see her, tell her to face me like an adult," You shot your savior a silent, desperate thank-you from behind his back. He subtly shifted, blocking you further from view. Mydei narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but after a moment, he huffed, muttering something about “finding her eventually” before storming off.

As soon as he was gone, you stepped out from behind Phainon. "I owe you my life," you said dramatically, your heart still racing. "Or at least my dignity."

Turning to you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "You owe me more than that, I think. But we’ll start with the truth—what did you do?"

You hesitated, then confessed, "I… drank all of Mydei’s pomegranate juice. I was thirsty! And it was just sitting there, looking—"

"Delicious?" Phainon finished, smirking. "You’re lucky I’m good at lying."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it. I don’t know how to thank you," you admitted, a gentle smile appearing on your face and Phainon crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I can think of one way."

Your stomach did a little flip. "Do you want to go out on a date?"

He chuckled, blue eyes shining with adoration, "I was going to suggest you replace the juice, but now that you mention it… I won’t say no."

You flushed, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "It’s settled then,"

"At least for now, my lady," he teased, making you wonder how draining Mydei’s pomegranate juice wasn’t the worst decision you’d made after all.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[dollfacefantasy]

PRETTY AS A PRINCESS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan have to work on halloween, but on the bright side, that means you get to dress up. and even better, you get to give him a little preview of the costume you've chosen.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, ddlg, slight dumbification

wc: 3.2k

a/n: reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <33

kinktober slot: day 29 - ddlg

"You sure you don't need my help in there?" Logan calls to you.

"I got it. Just gimme a second," your voice responds, slightly muffled from the walk-in closet door separating the two of you, "So impatient."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, a smile rising to his lips. Normally, that comment would get you a small swat on the ass, but he decides to let it go for now.  You were in a particularly good mood today. The two of you had been assigned a mission next week that fell on Halloween. At first, you'd been unhappy about that, but then the professor informed you that it meant you were going undercover at a Halloween party - which meant you got to dress up.

For the past couple weeks, you'd been thinking about this costume choice as if it was the most important decision you'll ever make in your life. There were just so many options as you'd put it. So many colors and cuts. 

He knew you, so he knew it'd be something cute. But thus far, you hadn't actually shown him what you picked. Today it arrived in the mail, which is why tonight, you made a big deal of revealing it to him.

"Are you ready?" you finally ask.

"I've been ready. Let's see it."

The closet door creaks open. Before you exit, you peak your head out, flashing him a quick smile. Your excitement oozes from every pore on your body, flooding the room as you finally step out from behind the mahogany.

His prediction had been right - you look very cute. You strut out to him in what seems to be a princess costume. A tight corset wraps around your waist while frills and lace compliments your bust. The skirt goes down to your mid thigh, flowy and sweet while teasing enough flesh to be seductive. A sparkling tiara rests atop your head, and long, smooth gloves cover you fingertip to elbow. 

Skipping over, you stop in front of him. "So... what do you think?" you ask with a coy cock of your head.

His eyes scan you up and down, but of course, his mind has been made.

"Do you really have to ask?" he teases, "You look beautiful."

A bright smile spreads over your face when the inevitable answer hits your ears.

He chuckles at the reaction and reaches out to grab your waist. He really does adore this little get-up. It suits you just right, and on top of that, he can already tell how it makes you feel.

From the beginning of your relationship, Logan had a suspicion you'd be into this kind of thing. The whole princess thing. And along with that, the whole daddy thing. 

While you could be fierce in the field, sharp and quick, there was another side to you. A side that liked things soft and gentle, that yearned to be taken care of. It was the same part of you that came out when he sat you on his lap, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. The part that made your head go fuzzy and your eyes glossy when he'd speak in a lower tone or call you a sweet name.

Over the course of knowing you, he'd found there were more triggers than delicate touches and tender words though. It was easier for you to slip into this dreamier headspace when you were tired or sad. You also liked when he took over simple tasks for you. But another one was definitely when you felt pretty. That always seemed to bring the d-word out from between those plush lips.

He found it a little odd at first, but he loved you. He could roll with you calling him daddy if that's what you wanted. And after a while, it didn't seem so strange anymore. He found himself craving your voice ringing out those two syllables, calling for only him when you felt your most vulnerable.

He spins you around between his thighs and kisses the warm back of your neck. The zipper on your dress hadn't been pulled all the way up. His fingers find the small metal piece to tug, pulling on it a little to tease before fixing the garment.

"Were you gonna wear it like this to the party, babydoll?" he asks, voice slipping into that lovingly condescending tone, "Give everybody there a nice show?"

A giggle bursts from you. Vibrates up your sternum through your throat and from your mouth. With how close he is to you, he can feel each bit.

"No," you say as if it's obvious. From your cadence alone, he can tell his set of suspicions was correct. You're starting to slip.

"So you need daddy's help then?" he mocks, dropping his voice. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, tugging a little and beckoning more laughter from you.

"I guess..."

"You could've just said that then. I know my little girl can't be expected to do everything on her own."

You hum with petulant agreement. Your head tilts back to rest on his shoulder at the same time the back of your dress closes up. He kisses up your spine, the metal teeth chasing his lips.

"There we go," he says with a small pat to your hip.

You turn around to face him again. The fabric of your skirt flies up a little with the mini twirl. He smooths it back down for you before gazing at those eyes glimmering with admiration.

"Could you help me with my socks and shoes too? I accidentally forgot them out here."

"Did you now?" he smirks. He knows your games. If he doesn't offer to do things for you, then you make sure to create a situation in which the chances of that happening increase.

"Mhm," you say, nodding up and down in big bobs.

"Well go get them, and bring 'em here."

Obeying the command like it's a second nature, you pad over to the chair by the closet and dig inside the package to get the matching pieces to this outfit. He watches you pull out ivory thigh highs with little bows at the meshy hems and a pair of dainty heels. 

The items swing back and forth at your sides as you waltz to him. He takes them from you and sets them on the mattress. Standing up, his form rises above your own. He guides you so that your positions are reversed. Your thighs press against the blankets before he guides you down to sit.

"Be a good girl and sit still for me now. We'll get you all dolled up," he directs.

In a move no one else besides you ever sees, he crouches down before you. He gets on his knee and grabs one of the socks off the bed. The material stretches under his careful fingers as he prepares it for you. One of his hands takes your ankle, boosting your leg up.

The thin, white fabric slides over your foot first. Just as he did with the zipper, he kisses your ankle, then your calve, your knee and then your thigh. He feels your pupils lock on him. He doesn't even have to look up. His mind knows the way they’re dilating while set upon him.

He shimmies the sleeve around your leg, making sure the little bow sits at the front. "That look right?" Now his eyes look up at your own.

The two small spheres look as he'd imagined, blown-out and ultra-focused on him. Your bottom lip is between your teeth too. "Mhm. Thank you, daddy," you answer softly.

"No problem, baby."

Now, he moves to your other limb. He repeats the process. Smooches land on your skin, flowing along the path the sock follows. That one gets put in the proper place too. He pushes your legs together, looking at the pair next to each other. The bows sit there staring back at him. He didn't know how he was supposed to focus on whatever you were actually going to this halloween party for when you looked like this.

"Cute, huh?" he asks.

You nod and smile.

After seeing your legs closed, the only natural next move would be to spread them apart. His thumbs hook against your inner thighs, the rest of his digits curling over the rest of the doughy flesh. He pushes them away from each other. The growing distance causes the silky skirt to ride up and allows him to see what you wear beneath your pretty dress.

Matching panties. The same kind of lace that framed your collar fans across your pelvis. It's fashioned in the same style and color as the rest of what you're wearing. He can feel heat pooling between his legs just from a quick glance.

"Are these new too?" he asks, tugging you to the edge of the mattress and pushing your skirt away.

"Yeah... Do you like them?" you check.

"You're smarter than that, baby," he says. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cunt over the fabric. The gesture's so chaste, but you feel your tummy flutter with the first beat of arousal.

"I just wanna make sure since I got them for you," you tell him.

"All for me? Never knew you could be so thoughtful, sweetheart."

You scoff and pout at him from above. "Yes you did."

He laughs softly at that and pecks your inner thigh a few times as penance. "Maybe. I guess you can be sweet when you wanna."

His tongue flicks out to lick back up to the new panties. The scent of your desire grows more prevalent. He knows you're getting wet for him. Bringing one finger up, he traces over the cloth, from where your slit is to your cute little clit. He does that a few times before hooking around the entire section and pulling it aside. Like he expected, your folds glisten for him.

"Poor baby. Is daddy getting you all messy?" he coos with a smug look.

"Yeah," you whimper. The shudder you'd been repressing washes over your body.

"It's only right I clean my pretty princess up then, hm?" he asks, still mocking you with his eyes.

You nod again, your confirmation wordless this time.

He brings his face to your center and lays a more passionate kiss upon the slick skin. His lips engulf your sex, his tongue dancing against your clit teasingly. Instantly, you whine and dig your gloved fingers into the sheets. Your legs find their places on his shoulders, convincing him to lean deeper into the junction of your thighs.

His tongue flattens, lapping your pussy with a nearly feral lust. It's no secret that Logan loves your taste. Not a drop of you goes to waste if he can spare it. He feels your thighs quivering against each side of his head and brings his free hand to rest on top of one. The security of him holding you there settles you slightly. But the position also gives him leverage to keep you close.

He sucks on your clit and then fucks his tongue into you. You try to writhe. Your hips buck at the onslaught of pleasure flaring up at your core, but he has an inhumane grip on you. You haven't cum yet, but you're gushing onto his face all the same.

"Daddy," you mewl, barely able to get the word out, "You're gonna ruin the underwear."

He's rock hard now at the whiny sound of your voice. You always get that way when you're near the edge. Your lip starts to wobble. Your voice gets pitchy as your demands grow needy. The look in your eyes just makes everything you say sound like begging.

Not one to normally be interrupted, he twirls the tip of his tongue around your bundle of nerves. But the words you spoke begin to register in his brain, and he reluctantly pulls back. His eyelids droop down with lust. Your fluids coat his chin and make some of his facial hair shimmer from the wetness.

"That's true, baby. Can't get these all soaked and destroyed before the party."

He rises to his feet again, pulling your panties all the way off simultaneously. Then his hands drop to his pants. He rids himself of his belt and undoes his fly.

"Plus, I think I have another way I can show you how much I like this new dress."

Taking his cock out, he tugs on it a few times. A few pearls of precum bead at the tip. His favorite part about getting his dick out is watching your reaction to it. No matter how many times you've seen it, you still seem so in awe. You marvel at the size and the way it flushes. Your eyes track the veins sprawling over it and sneak a glance at the heavy set of balls hanging below his shaft. He doesn't think you could look any more longing if you tried.

You're already soaked, so all he has to do is line up and slide in. Whining as he pounds himself into the hilt, your eyes start to go starry. He gets a firm grip on the swell of your hips in order to drag himself back and then pump himself forward again.

"Daddy... slow down," you pout, "s'too big."

He chuckles at your performance and slams in again just as hard. "No, no. C'mon, baby. Daddy needs this. He's gotta show you what you do to him in this little dress. And I know you can take it."

His hips continue to bump your ass as he thrusts back and forth. It's easy for him to find the rhythm you like. He settles into it and rocks in and out of your tight cunt. It feels like pure, concentrated bliss for him; always does. Your velvety walls, spasming and sucking on his cock. Silently crying 'more more more.'

"Pretty girl... we're gonna be doing this at the party too if you're not careful," he grunts.

You babble and squirm on the bed, lazily nodding at the sound of his voice. It's so cute, he thinks. The way you go dumb so quick and easy.

"Mhm. You're gonna drive me crazy. Might have to pull you into one of the bathrooms and bend you over the counter. See how cute this outfit looks from the back," he continues.

Your back arches off the plush surface. A physical stamp of approval on his plan.

"Gonna have you screaming so loud everyone there hears and knows what a good girl you are for your daddy," he breathes.

Leaning down, he removes a hand from your hip and brings it to cup your jaw. The pads of his fingers dig into your fleshy cheeks. Your lips puff out a little, begging for a kiss. He gives you a quick peck but never stops the ricocheting of his pelvis.

"You're so precious," he murmurs against your skin.

Meanwhile, his hips seem like their mission is to obliterate you down below. They ram forward and back, jostling your body on the bed. You can barely find the will to choke out "Daddy, daddy, daddy. Can I cum? Please."

Your voice is wrecked, even pitchier than before. He bobbles your head into a little nod with his hand. Your glassy eyes stay on him the whole time though. 

"Yeah, you can," he agrees.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you babble and fling your arms around him to keep him close. Not that he was going anywhere. He stays balls deep in you through the sensation of you tightening up and gushing all over him. Your walls flutter and squeeze. You writhe like you're possessed, and your eyes give that same impression as they roll back. Half-words spill from your lips begging, "Da- Plea- oh fuck-"

"Language, baby," he chides mockingly, his own tone growing strained.

You respond with total sincerity though. "'m sorry, daddy. Just- hnnngh- just feels so good."

"I know it does. Too much for you to handle, hm?"

You shake your head but the motion is so wild, it barely comes across as a declaration of disagreement.

"Use your big girl words, sweetheart," he coos. His desire tightens between his hips. He feels the familiar pressure and the way his balls draw up with the need to spill inside you.

"I can do it- ah!" you squeal, "I can take it. Just want daddy to finish inside."

His face falls down to rest in the crook of your neck. "If that's what you want, princess."

They're the last words he gets out before a groan rumbles in his chest. His release fires out with fervor. Spills into you in strong ropes. You sigh, eyes rolling back as warm satisfaction fizzles in your belly. The sensation melts you down from the whiny mess you had been into a boneless, whimpering puddle.

He pants against your skin. Hot puffs of air hit your neck as he starts coming down. Slowly, his cock slides out of you, popping out with a squelch. Two thick fingers find your hole and fuck the cum that was leaking out of you back in. You whimper at the intrusion to your sensitive cunt, but he smirks at you.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok, baby. We don't want any of this getting on your pretty dress, do we? Can't make a mess of it yet."

Your head bobbles in lazy agreement. He continues pumping his fingers into your soaked entrance while placing gentle kisses all over your face. 

When he finishes, he pulls your panties and his pants back up and then recedes to his knees again. He takes the heels from the bed and slides your feet into them. Taking care to make sure the strap is in place, he fastens the buckle on each and then lets them fall to the floor.

"Think you can walk in those still? Or did daddy get you too dizzy?" he asks.

"I can," you huff.

Pushing yourself off the bed, your legs wobble like those of a baby deer. You move across the bedroom, swaying a little but not enough to topple over and crash to the ground. He can tell you're waddling slightly, probably from the cum slowly seeping out of you again.

The costume looks gorgeous as ever with all the pieces put together. You readjust the tiara on your head and do a little spin for him before heading back over to the chair you initially pulled this dress from. You fish out what seems to be a basic wolf mask and show it to him.

"I got this for you," you beam.

His eyebrows raise incredulously. "I'm not wearing that."

You give him a look of your own, seconds away from stamping your foot. "Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are too! You have to dress up, Charles already said!" you insist and bring the mask to him, "Plus don't you wanna match? It's like beauty and the beast."

He barks out a laugh. "Is that what I am to you? A beast?" he teases, pulling you close again.

"Well yeah, but in a good way," you grin.

"Hm. We'll see. I'll think about it," he says.

You're about to whine out a please, but he stops you with a kiss. He knows he'll be hearing tons of that for the next few weeks.

[sttoru]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

⟣ sypnosis. you had been in your first ever relationship with suguru for a couple months now. neither of you have taken your relationship to the next level; suguru was extremely patient and never brought the topic of sex up until you one day decide you were ready.

⟣ note. first fic for my event :3 i spent way too much time on this fic so it turned out very detailed, long, romantic and fluffy. i hope you all enjoy and appreciate it teehee. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk ! wc: around 6.1k

⟣ tags. soft dom!geto suguru x virgin!female reader. fluff + smut. slow burn. age gap (reader 20-ish, suguru around 29/30), little talks about insecurity, loss of virginity, breast play, edging, teasing, fingering, lots of praise, dirty talk, size difference!, p in v — unprotected (dont b like reader and use protection please), creampie, aftercare, suguru’s really romantic and just a softie for u, suguru being a good ‘dad’ to mimiko and nanako and teeny tiny bits of him secretly being a pervert.

never in a million years had suguru expected his girlfriend to be so upfront about such a big, personal decision. the thought of having you say those words had never crossed his mind.

“can you repeat that for me, sweetheart?”

could you blame him for asking you to clarify the words you’ve uttered? that man has seen you as an oblivious and innocent woman ever since the start of your relationship. of course, unbeknownst to him, your thoughts were anything but that.

you may be a virgin, but your mind was a place for the most lewd and nasty thoughts. it’s just that you’ve been scared of being intimate with a man—it’s frightening, especially when having heard the many online stories about how badly it could hurt. some say that such descriptions were over exaggerating, however your inexperience still lead you to believe everything you’ve read about the topic.

and then you started dating an older man named suguru. you’ve met him by chance at a mall in kyoto and he was the first one who approached the other. you remember how suguru politely asked you for some advice regarding what type of presents he should get for ‘two teenage girls’. of course, you agreed to helping him out and that’s how you two eventually ended up brainstorming about possible ideas in a cozy café.

once seated, chosen drinks in both your hands, you asked the man whether the gifts were meant for his daughters. somehow, that’s the first connection the neurones in your brain had made once suguru told you about the two teenagers he was picking out presents for.

you remember it vividly; the sweet, gentle sound of the laughter that accounted as your answer, the eyes of the then stranger looking rather nostalgic as they stared into the liquid in his cup. suguru responded vaguely; “i guess you could say that, yes.”

that little ‘date’—if you could call it that—ended on a wholesome note. suguru thanked you for your time and made sure that you safely got into the train you needed to take home. he did want to offer you a car ride, however he kept that question to himself since he knew that no woman would voluntarily agree to be taken home by a stranger. even if suguru had the purest of intentions.

there were a couple more dates that followed after that one; all where you both gradually got to know each other better. you’ve found out so much about suguru—the details about his own life being both fascinating and sad at the same time. likewise, suguru had also learned much about you. he always shows great interest in what you tell him, even if it’s a minuscule detail. he remembers it all as well—a feature which caused you to feel funny things in your stomach.

you realised you were catching feelings for that mysterious yet sweet and loving man; it was inevitable. the way he makes you giggle, his respectful and easygoing manner of speaking, the slight touches you two shared on accident.. all of it added to your little crush.

however, you didn’t actually think suguru was falling for you too. you only met up for a few times, plus, you seem out of his league—both due to your age gap and difference in the things you’re pursuing at the time. you were in college, trying to get your degree whilst he already had a job as a powerful leader of an organisation and was trying to achieve one of many goals with them.

there’s not a chance he’d like you, right?

wrong. you were confessed to a couple weeks after your first meeting and have been in a relationship for over 4 months now. it still felt like a dream; having your first boyfriend be such a gentleman. it truly felt like you already met the love of your life whenever he was near.

suguru’s been nothing but sweet and caring to you, has never asked you to engage in any sexual activities nor even ever dared to touch you in places you haven’t consented to. the furthest you’ve gone in terms of intimacy in those four months, were make-out sessions. just some tongue action here and there—adding sprinkles of neck kisses and hickeys.

there were times where you wanted to let things escalate, however you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to ask your lover. suguru wasn’t the person to decide your feelings for you either—if there was no verbal consent coming from your lips, he’s not going any further. even if he wanted to as well.

you were grateful that suguru was that willing to wait for you, no matter how long it might take. not only were you anxious of the possible pain the sex would bring, but it was partially due to the fact that your lover was much more experienced in that field.

what if you were lacking? what if it wasn’t satisfactory enough for him and he’d eventually leave you for it? it’s obvious that suguru wasn’t the type of man to actually do that, however you couldn’t stop the many possibilities from running free in your brain.

your change of mind was rather spontaneous; it was today when you suddenly came up with your final decision. you were staying over at suguru’s, the sun was out and he was sitting on his balcony, reading a book whilst sipping on his coffee. what caught your eye was his bare back and the muscles which were on display to you.

suguru was shirtless and the seams of light were making his skin glisten—the view making your own body hot and bothered. you bit your lip and approached your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his neck. that skin-to-skin contact made you sure of your decision; you needed him. in more ways than one.

that’s how you ended up saying what you said. the statement left suguru baffled since you uttered it in his ear out of the blue. he couldn’t deny one thing however; the idea certainly did send a shiver of excitement down his spine.

“i said,” you repeat with a little mischievous grin, leaning in closer to your lover once he turned around to face you properly—as if searching for any hints that your words were indeed not his imagination, “i wanna lose my virginity to you.”

it wasn’t. you actually said it—the words that would take your relationship a step further. although, suguru couldn’t help but wonder where your sudden decision came from. his hands found their way to yours and he held onto them like they were two delicate flowers.

“i’m happy to hear that, though i’m curious,” your lover starts off carefully as he places chaste yet soft kisses on your palms, “why so sudden?”

you shrug nonchalantly like you didn’t feel that twinge of nervousness in the back of your mind as you felt suguru’s lips on your skin. ‘it really was happening now, was it?’—that kind of feeling was the cause of your subtle anxiousness.

“well, ehh— you just looked good.. sitting there.. i guess.” you mumble, voice trailing off in embarrassment whilst your eyes darted around the balcony in attempt to avoid suguru’s gaze. your flustered expression and adorable confession makes him laugh gently. it was not a mocking laugh at all—more of an amused one;

“just when i thought you couldn’t get any cuter..” the long-haired man muses, the locks of his bangs grazing ever so slightly against your hands as he keeps holding them, “you never fail to surprise me, do you know that?”

suguru had a way with words that made you weak in the knees. or maybe it’s simply because he’s shirtless and kissing your palms so romantically. you don’t know which one it was.

“but, love,” suguru continues carefully as he stands up, your eyes following his as he towers over you, “are you a hundred percent sure? i don’t want to do anything you aren’t comf—“

“yes.” your answer cut your boyfriend off and he’s left in shock once more. your eyes were filled with determination, yet the faint glint of nervousness in them didn’t escape suguru’s sight. you’ve given your verbal consent and are even the first one to suggest the idea— what more could he ask of you?

there hung a silence between you two, the breeze blowing through suguru’s dark locks making him look even more majestic than he already was. you had no doubt about it; today was going to be the day. it had to be.

“then, if you’d let me have this,” his low voice sounded more sensual than it had ever been as his hand found its place on your cheek, fingertips rubbing against your ear, thumb softly pressing onto your skin—

a slow and romantic kiss followed straight afterwards. it had caught you slightly off guard, even when knowing fully well that this was what you were longing for.

his lips moved in tandem against yours, the soft touch making you feel certain emotions that you hadn’t even thought existed. this man whom you called your lover had never been unable to expose you to new sensations. and soon, he’ll grant you another one. a much pleasurable one.

one arm circled your waist, the other held up, hand on the back of your head to deepen the passion-filled kiss you shared. his lips parted your lightly trembling ones, the tips of your tongues attentively rubbing against one another as if to test the waters; was it fine to go further? are we actually doing this?

you were. it was set in stone as your throat formed soft noises of satisfaction, shaky breaths being exchanged by the two lovers on the balcony—not one of you realising that the weather was changing in the background. the sun was setting, creating the perfect mood for the situation as you were still engrossed by each other’s moves and touches.

it was only for the sake of catching your breath that you had pulled away. your cheeks felt hot, as did your entire body which was still pressed against suguru’s—chest to chest. the proximity was one you both had enjoyed many moments before, however this instant was unlike any other. you both knew as you stared at each other in silence, your quick breaths doing the talking instead.

“will you let me..” the voice of which you have grown to adore spoke to you, the owner grasping your attention once more by holding onto your hand. suguru’s fingers smoothly slid across your skin until they found the puzzle they were meant to complete—that being the gaps between your own fingers. once your hands were tightly intertwined, the man finishes his sentence;

“will you let me love you?”

his face was still close to yours as he uttered those beautiful words to you, warm breath lightly fanning the thin strands of hair on your cheeks to the side, lips subconsciously trying to brush against yours once more. but, they could wait. they could wait until the agreement leaves your mouth.

“of course.” the answer escapes before you could even register it properly. this makes suguru smile against your lips as he captured them in another sweet kiss. he muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then swept your legs off the floor—strong arms placed under your thighs to hold you up against his body whilst the hungry kisses continue.

suguru doesn’t know how he got there; carrying you over to his bed, settling you down onto the soft mattress, his body caging yours underneath him, eyes fluttering over every detail of your exposed skin. he hadn’t had you like this ever before; he hadn’t had you in his bed for a reason as sinful as this, only ever for cuddles or sleep.

“you’re beautiful.” the dark-haired man whispers as he carefully takes off the clothing covering your figure—the gorgeous skin his hands still have yet to explore. suguru can’t remember the last time he has treated anyone like this; like a treasure he’s had the honour to find and keep to himself. there hasn’t been a single woman in his life that he’s cared for this much—you’re the only one capable of mellowing him and his heart.

“stunning,” another compliment; another breath spent to praise you. your lover’s fingers teased the edges of your bra, lips kissing down your collarbone and towards the centre of your chest—each touch being done with precision. your bra became undone a second later and you let the straps fall of your arms, all the way until your breasts were fully revealed.

suguru’s breath hitches, mouth forming more saliva than in any previous instants, the liquid being pushed down his throat with a gulp. you didn’t have the chance to feel conscious of yourself in a moment like this; the dim light of the bedside lamp shone on suguru’s face, his lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva whilst his gaze was lingering on the new sight in front of him—he was utterly obsessed.

“may i?” his hands were already reaching out for the plump flesh and they came in touch once you nodded shyly. his palms were warm as they kneaded your breasts and his fingers brushed against your nipples, which made you whimper from how sensitive they were now that someone else has finally touched them.

suguru took notice of your reaction and put pressure on both small buds once again, thumbs rubbing your areolas in circular motions, “that good, princess?”

“mhmm— y-yes,” you mutter through a moan. your body was pushed further onto the mattress as your lover put more of his weight on you, your entire chest area getting covered by licks and kisses, slow and deliberate ones that left you yearning for more. suguru’s eyes gazed up at yours for consent once his parted lips hovered just above your sensitive nipples, his breath on them alone making you squirm already.

with another nod, suguru wasted no time taking one nipple into his warm mouth—wetting it with his saliva as his tongue slid around the area. his long fingers squeezed, twisted and pulled on your other nipple to give you both stimulations at once.

“mm, so good.” his muffled voice caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. suguru slowly lets his lips travel across your tits, sucking on them, even kissing down the curves until he reaches your torso. he gives that area the same amount of love and attention whilst your fingers were tangled around his smooth, long hair. suguru clearly seemed to enjoy the sensations; he let out small moans and hums against your bare skin to indicate that you should continue playing and tugging at his locks.

his tongue abruptly came to a stop right above the waistline of your panties—the barrier he was about to reach past for the first time. the hesitation was visible in his body language, however his fingers eventually tugged at the fabric, preparing to take it off.

your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched suguru slowly pull the last piece of cloth away. your thighs pressed together on instinct, stopping your panties from exposing your bare cunt.

“should i stop?” suguru asks with a raised eyebrow, fingers pulling away from your underwear now that he’s seen you close your legs. you didn’t want him to stop—it’s just the nerves that made your body move on its own command;

“please— no,” you shake your head, biting your lip as you swallowed your own saliva out of pure desire. you craved him now that it’s come this far, “need you. need you so bad, suguru.”

those words caused suguru’s brain to shut down. any irrelevant thoughts were thrown out of the window; the only thing his mind was telling him to do, was to take care of your needs. your body was laid out on his bed—trusting eyes looking up at his in anticipation, pretty hands grasping onto his sheets like it’d calm you down.

“i’m all yours, sweetheart.” suguru sighs, fingertips slightly shaking as he pulls your panties down to your ankles, eyes pausing on the revelation. to say that suguru was simply rendered speechless, was an understatement. that man was on the verge of letting loose of any self-control and just dive his face right between your thighs, eating you out like he’s fantasised of doing for a while now.

“fuck.” your boyfriend closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before opening them to smile down at you—the handsome smile that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, “i’ll be careful. i promise.”

naturally, you nodded along. you’ve built up enough trust between one another during the past few months to let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. the palm of his hands patted your thighs slightly before spreading them apart, once again showing your glistening folds, a slight wetness to them from your own arousal.

suguru couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. he’d already have devoured your dripping cunt if it wasn’t for his self-control. but, it was your first time. he couldn’t rush into things just yet.

“thank you, baby.” the dark-haired man whispered under his breath. he was showing his gratitude for the sight you allowed him to see—a sight only he had ever seen before. the only man to be able to witness the beauty before him. that fact alone made his eyes darken in lust ever so slightly.

his fingers carefully slid across your vulva, your bodily fluid coating the skin which makes him shiver and his fingers get bolder. the cute sounds that filled his ears were only making this even better for him.

the way your hips bucked up slightly into his touch—just asking for suguru to take you right then and there—was driving him insane. every vein in his body felt like it could pop with how much he was restraining his own self from acting out of line. his finger easily slid into the little hole and suguru almost couldn’t believe it; your pussy was clamping down on his finger, your insides tightly wrapped around him to the point that even he wouldn’t know if his dick would fit in.

“hnnngh, suguru, please— wan’ your cock already,” that dirty sounding sentence was one he didn’t expect to hear from a virgin. it made him shake his head with a small, delighted chuckle; you really never failed to surprise him.

“i know you do,” suguru purrs, pressing kisses against the curves of your tits whilst another finger of his joined to stretch your pussy out properly, “but i need to prep you enough if you wanna take my cock. can you be patient for me, sweetheart?”

“m’kay. gonna try..” his fingers pumped in and out of you, the feeling of them curling up deep inside you made your walls squeeze against them. you’ve played with yourself before, of course, however it was then that you discovered that nothing could ever compare to the real thing: suguru’s long and slightly girthy fingers.

just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, you felt a third finger—not inside you--but on your clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves like you could’ve never done to yourself. suguru was so precise and exact with his actions which showed his experience. that’s another reason of why you’ve put all your trust in him. getting your virginity taken by a sweet, older and experienced man was probably ten times better than losing it to any guy your age, who were probably only out for sex.

suguru was there to make love to you.

your back arched once you felt suguru’s fingers increase their pace, the wet and squelchy sounds echoing through the room as they got louder the more your pussy got played with, his thumb almost overstimulating your clit to the point of release already—that’s how superb your lover’s hand movements were.

“no, no. can’t have you cum on my fingers like that.” you whine once you felt suguru take his fingers back the same moment you were about to reach your first orgasm by someone else’s hands. the older man smirks at this and kisses you on the lips, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it lightly flop back into place as he lets go; “i wanna have you cum together with me, okay?”

you couldn’t refuse such a romantic request, thus you nod. suguru smiles back at you once more before his hands move to take off his sweatpants, tossing the piece of clothing to the side. your eyes widened as you were propped on your elbows, gaze lingering on the massive bulge formed at the crotch area, his boxers not hiding much of the shape.

once the underwear was off as well—that’s when you realised that your underlying anxiousness was not for nothing. suguru’s cock sprung free, it was slightly curved near his pink tip, drops of pre-cum flowing down the length. you haven’t ever seen a dick in real life, only ever on the internet, so this had left you stunned. you didn’t know what the average size was for a man, but there’s one thing you knew for sure: suguru was definitely way above the average size.

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he teased, his hand absentmindedly pumping his cock to the sight of your naked body underneath him. suguru didn’t even know that he started doing that in front of you; it was out of pure instinct. he couldn’t hide the excitement in his body, his shaft twitching in his hand as if it desperately wanted to feel your tight cunt around it.

“uhm, s-suguru..” you stammer a bit, biting your lip as your eyes followed his hand motions which got faster once your sweet voice called out to him. something about you looking a tad bit intimidated by his size made him want to destroy your insides to mush—have you beg him to fuck you as he bullies his whole length into your poor, small cunt.

“i know, i know..” suguru reassures you, free hand giving you a few consoling head pats, “i’ll try to make it as less painful as possible, okay?”

you hum and watch how your lover settles between your legs, spreading them enough to kneel before you, upper body bending forward to place soft pecks on your forehead; he was encouraging and preparing you more in his own way.

your arms instantly wrapped around his back, sweaty palms set underneath his shoulder blades—you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, just waiting on that moment. that feeling you’ve been craving, yet also have been avoiding.

you waited for a bit, however the only sounds heard and sensations felt were the slight dent in the mattress near one side of your body, the bed creaking faintly. suguru was leaning on side of his body, one arm stretched out to open a drawer, apparently searching for a condom.

once you realised what he was doing, you shook your head and tapped his back twice to regain suguru’s attention. his gaze immediately flickered over to yours and his head tilted to the side in curiosity; “i want the full experience—no condom, please.”

his eyes widened at the request. you seemed to be dead serious, eyes glinting determinedly, lips forming a little pout— it was impossible to refuse you, although suguru knew that he had to play the role of the older, more wise and experienced lover in the back of his mind.

he parted his lips to list off the reasons why you should let him use a condom, yet the words died on his tongue. you were impossible to say ‘no’ to. not when you’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“whatever princess wants, princess gets.”

suguru prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock, circling the hole and wetting it more by using a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. you took another deep breath and tried your best to hold tightly onto your boyfriend, arms wrapped tightly around his back with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck—bracing for impact.

“tell me if it hurts too much,” suguru whispers in your ear, leaving one last kiss on your temples before pushing his hips forward, folds stretching out and apart to allow his cock through and into your pussy.

did it hurt like you expected? yes. it most certainly did. maybe even worse than you were prepared for.

“fuck— nhhh, fuckfuckfuck!” you hiss whilst your nails dig into the skin of suguru’s back, probably leaving red marks because of how much you’re clinging onto him—like your life depened on it. that’s quite literally what it felt like to you; body being forced to part and make way for suguru inside you, pussy feeling like it was burning by how big of a stretch it was to fit him in—if he actually would be able to push all of his inches into your tight hole.

“sshh, shh, it’s okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” your lover comforts you the best he could, stilling his movements for a couple seconds before gently slipping his cock further into you. it pained him to see the discomfort written over your face, however you hadn’t made any clear signs of wanting this to come to a halt. in fact, you were encouraging him to continue whenever he stopped at any indication of hurt.

“i can take it.. p-promise,” you manage to moan out. suguru breathed in deeply at your words and nodded, kissing your lips in hopes to distract you from any pain you’re feeling, “you’re too good to me, sweetheart. really.”

both of you exhaled deeply as suguru finally bottomed out, a long minute of reassurance and pushing now behind your back. your eyes had watered up a little, chest heaving as you tried to accommodate to the new feeling inside of you.

“take your time.” suguru utters gently, voice sultry and sweet whenever its directed at you. his lips graze against your cheeks, smothering the area with pecks to take your mind off anything else. the locks of black hair tickle your chin and nose, the hairtie that usually kept a good chunk of his hair in a bun now out of sight.

suguru hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity before and that’s what also made this opportunity special to him. he didn’t know how to thank you with words, so he showed his gratitude throughout his actions; lips kissing your shiny tears away, moving across your face to your forehead and eventually to your own round lips which had formed a cute pout.

you could feel suguru smile against your mouth, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips whilst mumbling words of affection and praise; “you’re taking it so well, baby. such a good girl for me— love you so much.”

you giggled lightly at your lover’s appreciative remarks, focusing on returning the kiss instead of the tingling feeling in your lower body. you pulled away after a bit and looked up at him with nothing but pure adoration; “i love you too, suguru.”

if suguru had the ability to freeze time, he’d want to do it during this moment, just to relive this bit over and over. he’s sure that this exact instant will be engraved into his memory for the many years to come.

and once you’ve given him the green light to move, he did it with caution, slowly but surely. his hips moved back and then forwards, girthy cock dragging along your walls at a leisurely pace, but just enough to make your pain transform into pleasure.

suguru’s big hands were placed on your hips, sometimes they’d leave their position to cup your chin and make you face him. he doesn’t want you to look away from his eyes; he’ll think you don’t like this if you do. besides, the thing he loves most about being in the missionary position, is that he’s able to hear how good he’s making you feel whilst looking into your eyes to see your face scrunch up in satisfaction. it’s so romantic and perfect. just like you.

“my little princess is so pretty.” suguru sighs in content and kisses your tears away, thrusting into your tight cunt in a comfortable pace—not too fast but not too slow, “the way you take my cock and still manage to look beautiful while doing it— you’re incredible.”

if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, his added commentary would certainly be. you moan and whimper phrases that sound like his name over and over again; you didn’t know what else to say as your mind was foggy with the amazing sensations your body was experiencing for the first time. that was fine with suguru since all he wants was to see you enjoy yourself—this moment was for you. everything he did was for you—every thrust, every kiss, every touch.

“nhhg, too good, so good!” you mewl and leave more scratch marks across suguru’s back, ones which he didn’t mind at all. it only served as further proof of this special moment. the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of your insides, puffy folds parted widely to make room for more of his length until it felt like he actually was balls deep.

“mhm—you’re, haah, tight..” the once calm and collected man seemed to let loose of himself the more he felt your cunt swallow him all the way, gripping onto his dick as if you didn’t want to ever let go. suguru grunts and moves down to leave a couple hickeys across your neck, hips non-stop pushing against yours, “don’t think i can last long—fuck, yeah—you feel amazing, baby.”

your eyes roll back as the pleasure seems to build up in your stomach as well. it felt like a coil that threatened to snap at any moment and it’d release another immense wave of pleasure upon breaking. your body was on fire, sweaty and hot, just like suguru’s.

“can you cum with me, princess? can you wait and hold on for me?” he asks, and the questions sound impossible, however you could at least try your best to fulfil his desires. you’d also want nothing more than to reach your peak together with the man you loved.

“okay—mmhh—together.” you nod and your body tenses up, legs subconsciously moving to wrap around suguru’s waist, heels of your feet simultaneously tapping against his lower back along with his hip movements. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for as your breathing patterns changes, whiney gasps and choked up moans escaping the back of your throat as your clit bumps against his pelvis over and over.

“almost, almost—“ suguru curses through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching while yours did the opposite. your body rocked back and forth and the bed felt like it was shaking along as well. you could tell by the way suguru’s hips rolled against yours that he was close—his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes half-lidded but not closed to still hold contact with yours and his hands clutched onto your waist. all indications of his nearing climax.

“mnph, gonna cum— shit, shit, shit, i’m gonna cum—“ suguru swears under his breath a couple times more before snapping back into reality at the last few seconds. he realised once again that he didn’t have a condom on, so his first rational thought was to pull out and finish himself outside of your body.

you were also nearing your own orgasm, not thinking rationally due to the intensity of the moment, any other thoughts except for the man on top of you were thrown out of the window. you felt suguru try to pull his twitching and throbbing cock out before it could spurt its cum inside of your dripping cunt.

you whined and shook your head, pulling suguru in for a deep kiss while tightening the grasp your legs had around his hips; “w-want to feel you cum in me— want you to fill me up while i finish too.”

suguru’s breath caught in his throat, almost choking on his own saliva from your bold requests. his only rational thought instantly vanished from his mind, now all that’s left was pure love, pleasure and desire. the mental image of his cum spilling and filling your pussy to the brim drove him to the edge.

“all yours, i’m going to give it all to you, princess, yeah? fuck !” both of you relinquished in the feeling of bliss, the warmth and build up reaching its designated ending— the expected waves of pleasure washing over you both. series of soft moans, whimpers and groans filled the room as your pussy was flooded with lots of hot cum.

it was like suguru hadn’t came in years—that’s how incredible that orgasm was experienced by the dark-haired male. the same thing goes for you; your legs were shaking, hips squirming up in aftershocks as you squeezed down on suguru’s cock, quite literally milking him dry of every drop.

“nhh, haah— suguru, love,” your tired and powerless whispers caught his attention immediately. your trembling hand held onto his cheek in attempt to make him look at you. suguru’s fingers curled around your wrist, turning your hand away from his face and to the side so he’ll have access to your palm. his lips left a ticklish trail of pecks on them until his mouth found its home: your lips.

the two of you exchanged deep, exhausted breaths, your boyfriend eventually pulling out and rolling onto his side to cradle you into his arms—hand placed on the back of your head to rest your body against his chest. the following seconds were spent cuddling as you tried to regain composure.

“you were amazing.” suguru sighs, chin resting on top of your head whilst his hand rubbed your bare back in comfort, “are you okay, sweetheart? nothing feeling off or anything of that sorts?”

you shake your head and snuggle up against your lover, content with how things are right now. the afterglow of your little session—of your first time, made you happier than ever. you couldn’t believe it’d feel this good. maybe it’s due to the one you’ve lost your virginity to.

“i’m okay.” you mumble and lift your head up to look suguru in the eyes, faces only inches away from each other. there were no words in the dictionary that could describe how you two felt. the closest word to explain it would be flawless.

“i’m glad, baby. thank you for trusting me.” suguru flashes you a small smile and strokes your head. you stay like that, bodies intertwined in a deep and comfortable hug, whispers of sweet nothings filling your ears and subtle gestures of love making you feel secure.

a couple minutes later and suguru noticed how you started to doze off. he chuckled to himself before pulling away from your hug and standing up, only to have you pout and complain about the loss of warmth.

“i’m just going to clean you up, love.” the soft-spoken man utters to you, laughing quietly at the adorable state you were in at the moment. you were so dependent on him.

“should i prepare us a warm, relaxing bubble bath as well?” he asks, squatting down near the edge of his bed and taking your hands in his, maintaining eye contact as per usual.

“that’d be nice.” you nod and feel your eyelids close slowly, “can’t promise i won’t fall asleep, though.”

suguru lets out a soft exhale through his nose, corner of his lips curling upwards at your little comment. he couldn’t believe he ended up dating such an unbelievably wonderful girl. it’s a blessing in his life of curses.

“i’ll make sure to at least clean you up if you do fall asleep, don’t worry. you’re safe with me.”

you were sure he was an angel sent down from heaven. it was more than clear to you—even if it may not be to many others out there.

“thank you, suguru.” you murmur as your body relaxes into the soft mattress, “i love you.”

“i love you too. more than you could imagine.”

[cuppajj]

Beast Ancients AU FAQ

I’ve seen a lot of asks in my inbox that are identical to each other, so I decided to put em all in one post and then some. This’ll be updated the more I develop the AU and the more info we get.

As a disclaimer, I am very new to CRK (as of December 2023) and I haven’t gotten to all the game or story modes yet (notably odyssey), so things are definitely bound to change + be elaborated on more! Anyway without further ado:

General

What are the Beast Ancients’ themes?

Vanilla is Penance, Lily is Sovereignty, Dragonberry is Pride, Cacao is Solitude, and Cheese is Conquest. I tried to keep them within the realm of their original meanings

Essentially my philosophy is: Penance is the acknowledgment (truth) that sins such as deceit exist in the world and must be cleansed. Sovereignty is an extreme form of freedom where one can have all the agency they wish, but can be just as silent about their presence/power as well. Pride is a byproduct of passion or sloth, boiling down to the adamancy of the subject. Solitude is a choice made with both resolution and apathy in various degrees, and lastly Conquest promises an abundant future at the cost of untold destruction.

If the ancients are bad, are the beasts good?

No, the old Beasts are still a threat. With a total of ten beasts to worry about, the situation on Earthbread is very dire. However, there is still hope left, and hope can go a long way.

Is there a new set of ancient heroes with soul jams?

No, and there likely won’t be. The Neo Beasts and first Beasts still have their respective soul jam halves, and both want each other’s.

Where’s Gingerbrave and his party?

Likely the Crème Republic, which becomes a refuge for many cookies after the rise of the neo beasts. They’re at the front of the resistance movement, working with Clotted Cream Cookie to plan how the beasts will be taken down.

What do the Neo Beasts think of their past selves?

Generally they see themselves as improved or improving. The only one who doesn’t feel that way is Frigid Cacao, who doesn’t reflect on himself that often.

Did they all corrupt at the same time?

Still working on that part. The timeline for beast ancients is a WIP, but for now, it’s likely that while they didn’t corrupt at once, they corrupted pretty close to one another. Cheese was likely first, followed by Lily. Vanilla was among the last to fall and evidently had it the worst.

Do the Neo Beasts still have kingdoms? How is life like there?

Answered here

What are the cookies of darkness doing?

As of writing (5/31/24) we don’t have a lot of info on the cookies of darkness in beast yeast, but at the very least I can say Dark Enchantress cookie may or may not know about Midnight Lily’s plan to destroy her.

How would legendaries react?

I admittedly don’t know everything about the legendaries to say yet, but they’re all alarmed to some degree. I can flesh them out the more I learn about them

Individual Neo Beast questions under cut!

Saint Vanilla Cookie

How do his powers work?

Answered here

Does he know he’s killing cookies?

Nope, he doesn’t see it as that and it would pain him to. He sees purification as a form of transition or ascension in itself, to put it simply; he might even envy those he turns to stardust, knowing his own tainted soul will be so much harder to liberate.

Why is he constantly crying?

He’s just like that. He’s just that big of an empath.

Has his relationship with Lily changed?

Saint Vanilla still cares very much about Lily, and may even be more open about his feelings towards her; but he admits the only reason why she’s still alive is because she convinced him to leave her for last. Lily very well knows that Vanilla, in his mind, wants to purify her more than anyone else. Vanilla often pities her choice to stew in her tainted soul, but he respects her decision… at least the alternative is that they’ll someday be the only two cookies on Earthbread.

What happened to Black Raisin?

As the very first to witness his rise, she inadvertently became his very first martyr.

Where’s Custard Cookie III?

With his relatives in the Crème Republic, alongside the rest of Gingerbrave’s party. The kid has a hard time wrapping his head around what happened to Pure Vanilla, and it may be a blessing that he’s been largely focused on worrying about the well being of his uncle, Clotted Cream Cookie. As the head of the resistance, he’s been working tirelessly… is this what a king goes through too?

Shadow Milk’s opinion on Saint?

To put it simply, he starts out thinking that a confused Vanilla will be easy to manipulate, but he soon finds out that Saint Vanilla is way smarter and more aware than made out to be. He knows Shadow Milk is with him, and he wants to purge him from his soul; but that is a process that may be harder than anything else. So in the meantime, Shadow Milk can watch as he continues on his path of Penance towards ascension, fighting back the resistance he creates before it can truly harm him. Essentially, Saint Vanilla isn’t trapped with Shadow Milk, Shadow Milk is trapped with Saint Vanilla.

Dragonberry Cookie

Is the skull on her head real?

Yes! It comes from a nondescript monster.

If Pitaya is imprisoned, where is Snapdragon?

With Tarte Tatin and/or Royal Margarine. Dragon City likely got taken over by Dragonberry’s kingdom, but they noped out of there as it happened. The two of them might’ve been the first few to recognize Hollyberry’s spiral into corruption and where it was headed

How is her family doing?

Alright for the most part, but they can feel Dragonberry’s influence in every aspect of their life now. While Royal and Jungleberry are technically still the king and queen, it’s only a figurehead role as Dragonberry is the true ruler. She still cares about her family very much, but she’s controlling and good at keeping them under her thumb. Dragonberry’s granddaughter Princess Cookie is the only one who objects this new way of life, and runs away from the palace.

How would the other dragons react?

The other dragons aren’t canon to CRK so they’re not canon to the au by extension, but just for this question, they’d be different levels of alarmed or concerned save for maybe Longan. I could see Ananas wanting a word with Dragonberry in particular esp since they’re both prideful cookies

Frigid Cacao Cookie

Does he ever go outside?

Very rarely, but it’s usually to observe the licorice sea or meet with the few denizens he has left.

Where is Dark Choco?

Still working on this part (waiting for Apathy pt 2 to come out so I have a better idea), but he’s likely alone by himself. He heard wind of his father’s corruption though and took it less well than he thought he would. Perhaps he’ll run into someone who feels the same?

Is his permafrost truly permanent or can the frozen citizens be thawed?

Technically yes, the permafrost can be thawed, but it’s a meticulous process since Cacao’s ice isn’t normal ice. It’s a cure that Crunchy Chip is looking for to save Caramel Arrow.

How does the licorice sea work for him and how did he come to tame it?

I can’t say how yet outside of the fact that it was a definitely cool and heroic thing for Dark Cacao to do, on the scale of taming the Black and White dragons. The sea, arguably a sentient monster in itself, and all of the creatures within it came to follow Cacao and Cacao only. Now it almost acts like an extension of himself: the beast can make the sea do whatever he wants, like acting as his shield, arms, or barrier, and the licorice horrors will vehemently defend him. There are tons of monsters roaming his frozen kingdom now.

Mystic Flour’s opinion on Cacao?

Working on it, but to some degree she knows Cacao is much stronger than he looks. She might see his apparent apathy for his frozen kingdom with fondness though.

Celestial Cheese Cookie

Is the Golden City still running or did she leave it to die?

It may still be running but in a scaled-down beta form. Cheese learned to accept the fact that what she’d built was entirely fake, but she didn’t move on from regaining what was lost. Her virtual Golden City serves as a blueprint for the kingdom she wants on Earthbread, and then some; with nothing in the barren desert to grow her kingdom, her brightened eyes turn elsewhere towards civilizations that could be brought into the fold. Such is the beginning of the Beast of Conquest’s terror.

She does sometimes visit her golden city, only sometimes. It doesn’t look the same; it’s not a paradise for her to escape to, but it is a promise of what she will have someday. This time, it will be no mirage, and there will be no one to threaten its destruction ever again.

Midnight Lily Cookie

What is her opinion on dark enchantress cookie?

DE is the source of insecurity for Lily, who regards herself as the weakest among all the beasts. Because she’s half of a complete whole, who was already half of another whole, she is passionate about reuniting her souls. While she is focused on expanding the influence of the faerie kingdom, her true goal is to track down Dark Enchantress Cookie and destroy her; but she knows she will need more help than just herself, and has considered asking for help from other vengeful allies.

Does she still guard the silver tree?

Yes, she still fiercely honors Elder Faerie’s wishes.

Have her relationships with the other neo beasts changed?

Ish, most notably her and Celestial Cheese are a little more on speaking terms; but they’re connecting through their potential partnership as Lily hopes she can help her take down Dark Enchantress. In return, she might help her expand her kingdom and take down Burning Spice.

If more FAQs come up, I will make a part two. Thank you for your interest!

[wyllaztopia]

2025 is coming so i let my friend @kayseeye [new agdt mod and assistant!!] clear agdt's askbox

as devastating as it was to see a bunch of creative remarks and asks go down the drain - let's be real, i won't have time to answer them with how linear the story is becoming for ease of access [goodbye 500 asks... though kacey took screenshots of drawings you guys sent in our inbox!!!]

hooowever, there's also another key reason we had to clear the inbox

[^ satire btw]

very long and convoluted psa/ramble about this matter ahead! but also slightly important and i encourage you to read it if you think about using agdt's inbox as a way to vent or share things about your irl troubles

some people treat the blog's inbox as a venting area

it doesn't really make me uncomfortable, it's just something i prefer not seeing. i don't like sharing or being shared personal information especially from an anon or a stranger

this doesn't go for just agdt - it goes for all blogs you interact with: please don't make yourself vulnerable to a stranger on the internet. you are putting yourself in a dangerous spot.

if you need escapism or help, turn to a professional or someone close - going to a stranger can go horribly wrong in two ways: you make them uncomfortable and subject them to a responsibility they never signed up for, or you let someone use your vulnerabilities and personal information against you.

i can probably count like 100 or so asks of people sharing something overly personal and asking for comfort. i don't hate it, i'm not mad, i'm just worried and i hope the people who send them become aware that they should not send those asks knowing that if they're answered, they could be answered publicly with everyone and their mama being able to see that vulnerable moment in that ask.

"just ignore them, wyll! besides, you didn't have any rules abt yo blog anyway, yo!"

nah, i'd win

can't exactly ignore them when it's been almost a year of young impressionable users over sharing to a stranger who answers asks publicly [along with the fact that i hardly see people talk about this matter when it comes to rp/ask blogs.] also so they don't do this to another askblog that has another impressionable youngin running it and publicizes asks that contain personal life info.

we don't add rules to asks on agdt because we can pick and choose which ones we answer. a set of rules isn't going to stop an asshole from breaking them so i'm not wasting my time trying to enforce one. and that's not what i'm trying to do in this post either. i'm putting this out there because i don't want people making the irrational decision of making their life and weakest moments accessible to people who want to use it against them.

i'm not trying to make a big deal out of this either. i can just skip or delete asks that i know i shouldn't answer or won't be able to. but that's my side of responsibility as someone with a platform. i want to make it clear that the audience that decides to interact with these kinds of blogs should be aware that just because you're behind a screen and concealed by an internet persona, that doesn't mean you're any safer from other people using your vulnerabilities against you.

[comicaurora]

Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

[lucyrose191]

hey i had an idea and i love your seb x reader writing so i wanted to send this to you! driver! reader has a really big accident during a race like shes in a coma for some time seb becomes this completely closed off person but he visits you everyday so one day he comes to the hospital ig and readers heart stopped or something but then she comes back to life and wakes up or she dies idk if they have kids but would be nice if they’re married. idk i leave it up to you just give me some angst pls 🙏🙏🙏

COME BACK TO ME| S.VETTEL

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x Wife!driver!reader

Summary; Sebastian’s world is turned upside down when he finds out the reason behind the red flag, the aftermath is just as torturous as the moment he got the news.

Warnings; Serious crash (a bit like Jules Bianchi’s), angst, coma, severe injuries, Sebastian’s sad :( Also Kimi and Seb bickering like children.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that Formula One was a dangerous sport, the fans knew it, the FIA knew it and the drivers knew it; but there are decisions that need to be made in order to protect the drivers because their safety should be the number one concern.

So when the FIA decided that that the weather in Suzuka wasn’t severe enough to postpone or cancel the race, pretty much every driver was against getting back on the track, there had already been a crash and to continue was just plain stupid.

Y/N knew that everyone, including the drivers, had their eyes on her. She had won the last few seasons and was the one to beat.

She never had a problem driving in the rain, in fact most of the time it added to the thrill of the race but when you could hardly even see the steering wheel you were holding, it wasn’t fun, it was scary.

She didn’t really know what had happened, she was battling Max Verstappen who had been recently promoted to RedBull; she’s been enjoying the challenge the younger driver is offering her but there were times that she didn’t agree with his decisions, they could be extremely risky and not in a good way, in a way that could cause some serious damage to either him or someone else and it seemed that this time was one of those times that his risks had consequences.

She had been ahead of him when she felt the contact that had been made to the back of her car, it wasn’t light at all, it sent her spinning completely off the track and with the slippery track and the rain continuing to pour she could not stop the car no matter how hard she tried to gain control.

She heard the gasps of the crowd as her car flipped and spun but it faded away as she tried to keep herself from moving about too much in her car; wondering how long it would take for her to stop.

Y/N did stop, eventually, but the moment she felt the contact she knew something was wrong. It felt like she had hit a brick wall, she heard the crumpling of the car’s structure before a pain like no other filled her entire body; her head throbbed and her eyes fluttered closed, her body shrouded by the remains of her car and the heavy rain.

"Red flag, Sebastian, you’re heading into the pits," Riccardo spoke over the radio.

"Fuck sake! I told you guys we shouldn’t have been sent back out here, what happened?" To say he was angry was an understatement, for the FIA to risk the lives of every driver on this track was ridiculous and quite frankly plain stupid.

"What happened, who was it?" He asked again when he wasn’t given an answer, pulling into the pits behind the two Redbulls.

"There’s been a crash, no response," Riccardo vaguely replied.

Sebastian sighed in frustration at the lack of information and detached his steering wheel, pulling himself out of the car, he didn’t even have time to pull his helmet off before Max was walking up to him and grabbing his arms.

"Seb I’m so sorry, I lost my grip and I couldn’t control it and we just collided-"

Sebastian shook his head, cutting Max off. "What are you talking about, what happened?"

Max simply stared at Seb for a moment, guilt filling his entire body as he realised Sebastian had absolutely no idea. "Seb, it’s Y/N…."

It was as thought the world had stopped turning, Max’s voice had faded away along with the sound of the crowds and everything else around him, the only thing he heard were his racing thoughts as he remembered Riccardo’s words.

No response

No response

No response

He looked up at the big screen that was showing the wreckage live, his heart dropped, the car was completely crushed and she was still in it.

He saw as a few of the Marshalls looked towards the ground briefly before looking into the direction of the camera as they all started making the same gesture, not even a minute later the screen was shut off so that no one could see what was happening.

Sebastian didn’t register his feet moving or the drop of Max’s hand from his shoulder but the next moment he was storming into the Mercedes garage demanding for some sort of information.

If it was any other driver entering their garage without permission they would’ve been immediately kicked out but knowing that Sebastian was here for no other reason that to know if his wife was okay they didn’t mention the red race suit that stood out against everyone else’s black and white uniform.

Seeing that Sebastian was simply stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do, Toto walked over to him and directed him away from his team so that they could talk.

"There was no response over the radio so we can assume that she’s unconscious, she went into that barrier at an incredible speed and the from the damage we can see there’s no way she isn’t injured in some way so she’s going to be airlifted to the nearest hospital, okay?" He spoke in a low voice so that no one could hear besides the two of them.

Sebastian made no indication that he had registered Toto’s words but he did swallow thickly before simply walking away and making his way into his own garage; he didn’t speak to anyone, instead heading straight to his drivers room.

He has taken the quickest shower of his life and changed into regular clothes, he had no intention of getting back into that car this weekend and if anyone expected him to then they were delusional.

As soon as he walked through the doors of the hospital he was approached by an older looking nurse that seemed to have been waiting for him and he could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t going to hear anything good.

She gestured him to follow her; she lead him into an empty hospital room and gestured for him to sit down on one of the two chairs that were underneath the window, she took the other.

"Mr Vettel, I’m going to be straight with you because I wouldn’t want anyone to beat around the bush if I was in your position. The speed and force at which your wife crashed into barrier quite frankly should have killed her so bear that in mind when I go over her injuries with you because they might sound bad but for what happened I’d say she got out lucky."

Her words cut through Sebastian like a knife, tearing into his skin to leave him vulnerable to whatever she has to say next. Though, he’s grateful she’s telling him how it is instead of sugar coating the severity of everything just so that he’s not uncomfortable, he wants to understand and be aware of what exactly has happened so he gulped and nodded for her to continue.

She didn’t look at him sympathetically which he was thankful for but her expression was comforting. "The impact shattered Mrs Vettel’s tibia and fibula in her right leg, three of her ribs were also broken and a few of them are bruised, during the crash something must have made contact with your wife’s head because when we were cutting the helmet off the back of it was already broken through and it’s caused her some severe trauma to her head."

It was as though Sebastian felt the pain with each injury that was listed, the nurse was explaining it precise and slow so that he could probably understand it but there was really only one thing he wanted to know. "Is my wife going to be okay?"

This time the nurse did look at him sympathetically as she saw the pure worry in his eyes, she could see the love he felt for the Mercedes driver and the pain that this was causing him.

"Your wife is in surgery right now to fix both bones in her leg and suture up the injury on her scalp, her ribs should heal by themselves in at least six weeks but will most likely be longer, the thing we’re most worried about however is when she’s going to wake up. Whilst the knock on her head hasn’t caused any internal bleeding, we do think that’s the reason she was unconscious and not the crash itself."

Sebastian’s blood went cold at her words, "So-what, she’s in a coma?"

The woman nodded in confirmation. "Yes, it’s hard to determine when a person in a coma is going to wake up because each person is different when they’re in a position like this and I’m aware of how difficult this is for you to hear but whilst she’s in this state, it’s really the best time for her injuries to heal and hopefully she’ll wake after the worst of the pain has passed."

"How long do you think she’ll be in the coma for?"

"It varies from person to person but I’d say anywhere between a few weeks to a few months."

Sebastian nodded his head, glancing down to his lap where he was fiddling with his wedding ring. "Thank you." He simply muttered to the nurse who took that as her cue to leave.

"Mrs Vettel will be brought here after her surgery is complete, you’re welcome to wait until then or if you wish to go and come back after they’re finished we can give you a call if-"

"I’ll wait," Sebastian interrupted her and she nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Sebastian sighed heavily into the silence of the room, placing his head in his hands; now that he was alone the strong front he had put up had disappeared, before he could stop it his eyes were watering and silent tears were falling into his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that before he heard the doors to the room open and a bed was wheeled in by four or five doctors, once the bed was locked in the middle of the room all of them left but one.

The man was probably in his forties but he seemed kind enough as he regarded Sebastian. "You must be Mr Vettel?"

Sebastian hastily wiped his eyes before rubbing his hands on his legs, nodding his head.

The doctor smiled before speaking. "The surgery went well, both bones in your wife’s leg have been reconstructed but those pins will have to stay there for a month or two and afterwards she’ll need physical therapy to regain her strength back and the cut to her head has been sutured up with no issues. A nurse will come by tonight to check her vitals and ensure everything is okay, they usually do checkups every 6-8 hours but if you need something then feel free to press the button."

"I will, thank you." Sebastian smiled weakly.

"As you are her husband you can come and go as you like, you are more than welcome to have someone come and take your place when you want to go and shower or rest. If anyone wishes to come and visit then visiting hours are between 8am and 8pm, after that we only permit one person to stay."

The doctor left shortly after and after taking a deep breath Sebastian got up from his seat beneath the window and made his way to the bed.

The sight of her made him want to burst into tears all over again, she had cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, her right left was resting on a pillow but trapped inside a metal brace that was attached to the pins inside her leg, her head was bandaged to protect the stitches on from the pillow she was laying on.

She looked lifeless and the sight of it pretty much tore him in two.

He didn’t know what to do, he was here alone and the love of his life almost died.

He carefully leaned against the edge of the bed, making sure he didn’t budge anything he shouldn’t before carefully grabbing her left hand, it was bare of any rings and Sebastian hoped that they were in her driver’s room somewhere and not lost because she was so protective over them rings and would be pissed if they were lost.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

It was way too silent in here, he hated it.

He leaned his body forward and pressed his face into the pillow, being mindful that he wasn’t hurting her even if she was unconscious and most likely wouldn’t feel it.

"Please come back to me, Liebling. I need you so much."

Sebastian didn’t leave the hospital that night, he had dragged the chair across the room so he could spend the night beside his wife, he hardly slept instead choosing to sit and simply watch as she ‘slept’ hoping that if he stayed awake long enough then eventually she would wake up.

She didn’t.

He had countless messages from family and drivers but he didn’t answer them, he knew not answering her family was selfish but he found that he really only cared about Y/N and no one else, that and he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He messaged her and his parents this morning explaining what the doctors had told him yesterday but had left the other messages unread.

Not once had he let go of her hand, not when the nurses came in every couple of hours to do their checkups or when they brought him something to drink or eat, most of which went untouched.

He couldn’t explain the heartache he was feeling, to have the person you love the most in the world be in such a vulnerable position was heart wrenching, especially when it was your job and vow to protect them.

He couldn’t have stopped that crash but he will make sure he is around for every step of her recovery process.

Sebastian was thankful that there wasn’t a race this week because there was no way he was leaving her in the hospital alone to get in the car, he wasn’t in the right mindset anyways.

It seemed silly that he was also thankful that there was only four races left and Y/N had already won the championship otherwise he would’ve been devastated for her.

A knock at the door tore him away from his thoughts and he assumed that it was a nurse but was proved wrong when Max walked through the door with flowers in his hand.

Sebastian pursed his lips and looked down, he couldn’t even look at the man knowing that he was the reason his wife was unconscious in the hospital.

He knew it was wrong to blame him because he had no grip and the weather was no help but he was aware of the way the younger lad drove and knew that he took unnecessary risks, risks that could’ve killed the woman he loved.

"Uhm," Max cleared his throat awkwardly. "I messaged to see if it was okay for me to come but I didn’t get an answer and I just needed to see if she was okay."

Sebastian bit his tongue which was hard when everything inside him wanted to turn and shout at the RedBull driver that this was all his fault and he had no right to come here when he was the reason she was here in the first place, and his wife didn’t even like fucking roses so be can shove them up his arse for all Sebastian cared.

"Is she okay?"

Sebastian scoffed at the question, looking up at Max as if questioning his sanity. "Does she look okay?"

Max looked at him guiltily before glancing away, not being able to stand the look of complete despair in the German’s eyes.

"Just leave," Sebastian shook his head. "My wife’s pretty much on her death bed right now because of you and I really don’t need you coming here pretending like you care when we both know that that the only thing you care about when you’re in that car is yourself, not anyone else and certainly not their lives."

Max bit back the retort that’s on the end of his tongue knowing that the man was not in the right place right now so he placed the flowers on the table by the door and took his leave.

Sebastian sighed and tipped his head back to try and stop himself from crying, he needed to stop crying, he hadn’t done anything else in the last 24 hours.

It had been a week and Sebastian had talked to no one, none of the drivers had tried to visit so he assumed that Max had warned them to stay away which he was glad.

He had left the hospital only twice to pack some clothes and essentials for the two of them, Y/N still hadn’t woken up but the bruising on her face and arms was going down and the doctors had said her ribs were healing nicely.

He had never realised how much he had depended on her and needed her until he didn’t have her to depend on.

He loved her so much and felt like he was going insane with her right next to him but not exactly there at the same time.

Shortly after Max had left that day, two nurses had came in with Y/N’s race suit, fireproofs, balaclava, gloves, boots, two halves of her race helmet and her rings.

Sebastian had wasted no time in placing her rings back onto her hand, he didn’t think she looked right without them and knew that if she woke up without them on her hand she wouldn’t be impressed.

He had almost cried again when he picked up both pieces of her helmet and saw the place where she had been stricken on the head, there was a gash that went right through the helmet and a large red stain on her balaclava that would be beneath where the hole on her helmet is.

He had told his and Y/N’s parents that there was no point in flying in to visit until she was awake and they agreed, he also assumed that the teams had all flown back to their headquarters or the next race location so he was here alone.

Quite frankly, Sebastian didn’t know what to do, there was a race in America this week and even though it was the last thing on his mind and the last thing he wanted to do he knew that he had an obligation to be there, he couldn’t just not show up and it seemed like Britta had the same idea as he saw her name pop up on his phone trying to call him, it wasn’t the first time but it seemed like she was unrelenting this time.

"What do you want?" He sighed as he pressed the phone against his ear, running a hand over his face.

"Oh, so you are alive!" Her surprised voice was way too loud in his ear.

"Just tell me what you want, Britta." Sebastian had no time or patience for her teasing or jokes.

"You need to be in America in three days, Sebastian, I understand that you don’t want to see anyone and the last thing you want to do is get in a car but you do have an obligation to be there." She told him sadly.

"I have an obligation to take care of my family, Britta, I couldn’t give a shit about racing."

"You can’t stay in Japan, Seb."

"What do you want me to do, leave her here in a different country by herself?"

"I think you should move her to a facility in Switzerland for starters so that you can at least be near home."

Sebastian stayed silent, he couldn’t argue with that logic, it probably would be better, even for Y/N so that she wouldn’t have to fly when she was awake and recovering.

"I’ll talk to you tomorrow," he told her before hanging up, not allowing her to say anything else.

The next day he had payed to have Y/N transferred to the closest hospital to where they lived in Switzerland and had flown out her parents so that they could stay with her whilst he was in America.

He had put his foot down on missing media day, he’d go Friday, Saturday and leave immediately after the race on Sunday and would call his in laws multiple times a day whilst he was gone, he was not happy about it but it was the best he could do.

They were currently waiting outside of the room whilst Sebastian said his goodbyes to Y/N, he had spoken to her everyday just on the off chance that she could hear everything that was going on around her, the last thing he wanted was for her to have to suffer in silence whilst she was in this position.

He pressed his forehead against hers, which was now bandage free, closing his eyes to relish in the contact that he wouldn’t have for the next couple of days.

"I love you so much, liebe and I’m going to be back as soon as I can. You better not wake up whilst I’m gone otherwise I’m going to be pissed off with you," he chuckled weakly knowing that is something she’d probably do.

He pressed a kiss to her head and one to the back of her hand before reluctantly getting up, grabbing his back and leaving the room, knowing that if he didn’t go now then he never would.

Sebastian knew he was pushing his limits but couldn’t find it in himself to care, it was Friday and he had arrived in America this morning but hadn’t shown up at the track until just ten minutes before FP1 started.

He had been on the phone with his mother in law as soon as he got off the plane and hadn’t hung up until a few hours later but the real reason he had left it so long to head to the track was so that he could avoid most of the cameras as he was walking in, knowing that they’d now mostly be focused on the team garages.

Speaking of teams, Y/N’s seat had been filled in by Esteban Ocon for the rest of the season, the smallest part of Sebastian felt guilty knowing that Toto Wolff had been trying to find out what was going on with his driver but Seb had made sure everything was kept under wraps.

The only people who knew how she was were family, Britta and Y/N’s PR manager, Freya and every single one of them had no intention of spilling any information.

He could feel the eyes on him and hear the muttering as he walked through the paddock, he hadn’t even been here five minutes and he was already getting annoyed by the cameras and how loud it was.

It pissed him off even more when he saw team members from other motorhomes coming out to watch as if he was going to stand there and make a grand statement to let them all know how Y/N was.

He just ignored them and walked into the Ferrari motor home to his drivers room so he could change into his race gear.

He made sure he had his helmet on before he left his room, making a clear statement that he was in no mood to talk to anyone, thankfully the team respected it and let him get straight into the car, just in time for FP1 to start.

It felt wrong, he and Y/N had a small ritual they did before they got into the car, they had done it for years and this would be the first time getting into the car without it.

"Okay, Sebastian, you’re free to leave the garage, just give Mattia a heads up when you’re ready. You’re on mediums for now," Riccardo spoke through his ear piece.

Sebastian didn’t answer but he did nod his head towards a mechanic to let him know he was ready.

He was top of the time sheet for both practises today, he wouldn’t say he had tried to be in that position, he had just channelled his frustration into his driving.

"Sebastian, top of the time sheet today, does that mean the car was feeling well for you?" The woman in front of him asked, holding out her microphone for him.

"It felt fine," he responded, he wasn’t even looking at her, he was too busy thinking about phoning Y/N’s parents when he got out of here.

"You’re back after a week off, did you end up doing anything interesting?" He was aware that the woman was trying to subtly pry information from him about Y/N and it pissed him off so he just scoffed and walked away, knowing Britta was going to have to do a bit of damage control.

"Hey! Seb! Seb!" He heard Lewis call after him but continued walking causing the English driver to have to run to catch up to him, clasping a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to get him to stop walking.

"Hey, are you alright, mate?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes "I’d be find if everyone stopped asking me that stupid question."

"Alright," Lewis nodded, not one to get offended or hurt at the tone Sebastian used because he understood. "How’s my teammate?"

Seb raised a hand to his forehead in frustration at the question, he could feel himself losing it. "What do you want me to say, Lewis? She’s clearly not fine other wise you would’ve heard something so will you and everyone else just leave me the fuck alone."

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead walking away, hopefully to make that phone call he’s been wanting to make since the last one had ended but just as he was about to shut the door to his driver’s room, a hand caught it.

"For fuck sake, can I not get a moment alone around here!?"

"Don’t start your attitude with me," Kimi grunted and Sebastian sighed, now was not the time for him to deal with Kimi.

"What do you want?"

"I want what everyone else wants."

"Well I hate to break it to you but just because you’re my teammate doesn’t mean I’m telling you how she is."

Kimi rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on Sebastian’s bed whilst the latter was looking around for his phone.

"That’s not what I was talking about, I’m talking about the mood you’re in, you need to get out of it and get a grip, that’s what Y/N would want, not you walking around and sulking ruining everyone else’s day."

Sebastian shot him a dirty look. "You don’t know what she’d want and neither do I right now because she’s in the hospital, and if anyone has a problem with my attitude I’m perfectly fine with them staying away from me."

Kimi sent him a sarcastic smile, matching his attitude. "Well I have a problem with it cause you took my personality."

"What?"

Kimi sighed and stretched out. "You know how exhausting it is to have to be the happy one out of the two of us, that’s supposed to be your job but since Y/N’s crash, I have to be that person and I’m sick of it."

"Well I’m sorry that my wife’s injuries are such an inconvenience to you," Sebastian rolled his eyes.

Kimi groaned in annoyance, "you are so fucking annoying without her."

"Thanks, I’ll tell Minttu you said that." Sebastian replied sarcastically, now having his phone in his hand.

"Go for it," Kimi shrugged. "When Y/N wakes up I’ll tell her how much of an arsehole you’ve been."

Seb ignored him and pressed his phone to his hear, waiting for his mother in law to pick up for an update.

He had finished P4 in the race that weekend and had gotten straight on a flight back to Switzerland, skipping his post race interviews in the media tent.

He hadn’t even called Y/N’s parents after the race for an update, instead settling for a simple text in the airport when he was boarding the plane; both of them were picking him up from the airport and taking him straight to the hospital, he was strangely looking forward to being able to see her again, even if she was still in a coma.

He was happy that his flight had quite literally flown by and was sitting in the car behind his in laws just twenty minutes after landing.

"How is she?" He immediately asked.

"She’s okay, the doctors have said she’s healing up nicely." Y/N’s dad told him, the news relaxing him a bit.

"Are you guys coming in?" He asked as he held the car door open, surprised when he saw them both shaking their heads.

"We’ll come by tomorrow, you should have some time alone with her."

Sebastian nodded and bid them goodbye, actually happy that they had chosen to do that because after not seeing her for a couple of days, some time alone was what he needed.

He practically ran through the hallways of the hospital, care workers saw him but chose not to reprimand him as they were aware of who he was and how eager he probably was to see his wife.

He exhaled heavily when he got to the closed door of her room, standing there for a few moments to calm down a bit.

When he pushed open the door, he got the shock of his life.

Y/N was lying there in her hospital bed with her leg still resting on a pillow as it had been for the last two weeks but this time, the top of her bed was raised to put her in a sitting position, she had oxygen tubes in her nose but her head was turned towards the door he had just walked through and she was looking at him!

She was clearly very sleepy and tired but her eyes were as open as far as she could hold them and she was looking at him with a sleepy smile on her face.

She blinked slowly at him for a moment as he stared before holding out her hand for him and he took that as his cue to move towards her.

"Hi baby," she mumbled through a smile, not really having the energy to say anything more but it was enough for Sebastian’s eyes to start watering as he collapsed onto the chair that was beside her bed, grasping her hand in his own.

He raised his other to her cheek and softly stroked the skin there, smiling through his tears as he felt her lean into his touch.

"Hi," he breathed in disbelief, "How long have you been awake?" He whispered, fearing if he spoke any louder it would hurt her.

"Before the race, I watched it," she told him as though she was proud of herself was waking up in time to see it.

"Yeah? What did you think?" He humoured her, not really wanting to talk about the race but it seemed to make her happy so he did.

"You did good," she told him, subtly rubbing her thumb across his hand.

Sebastian simply smiled at her, he wiped his face on his arm to get rid of his tears before looking back at her again with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

"I love you so much." He told her surely, as though she may have forgotten whilst she was in the coma.

"Ich liebe dich auch," she replied back softly making him laugh, she always said it in his native language because she thought it would feel more real for him to hear.

"Are you tired?" He asked when he noticed her fighting to keep her eyes open.

Y/N nodded slowly before looking at him. "Come and lay with me," she told him.

Sebastian shook his head softly even though he wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her. "That’s probably not a good idea, liebe."

"When has that ever stopped you?" She pouted but rose an eyebrow at him.

He couldn’t argue with her there so he got up from his seat, protesting when she tried to move and make room for him.

He climbed in next to her and lightly wrapped his arm around her, she scooted closer and carefully adjusted her top hand so that her head was resting against him.

Sebastian rested his head against hers, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Liebe?" He asked, earning a slight hum in return.

"Don’t listen to anything Kimi says, he’s a liar."

"Hm’kay, Seb." She muttered, already pretty much asleep.

"I missed you so much," he muttered against her, carefully tightening the arm he had wrapped around her,

He wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight again.

[earlycuntsets]

“I CONSIDERED MYSELF TO BE MORE OF A GIRL”

A CONVERSATION WITH GERARD WAY from theboyzine.com 1/18/2015

"Gerard way is the renaissance-type singer songwriter // Goth prince frontman // comic book artist // proud father best known for both his solo music and his band My Chemical Romance. We got a chance to ask him a few questions in early January. Enjoy!

What is your favorite animal?

I would have to say an ape; for a long time I didn’t take the time to know the difference between primates, but my wife and I have been really into animals—apes are just very gentle creatures.

As an emotional professional, how do you feel when people tell you to man up?

You know, growing up as a boy you are always told not to show your emotions, that it is a sign of weakness. I have been lucky enough to lead a life where I can celebrate how I really feel—but there is still negative attention towards it and it is still considered weakness.

Is there a point, then, where one does need to (for lack of a better word) man up?

You know I really don’t like that phrase. “man up”, because it implies that emotional strength in rough times is a masculine trait, when in reality some of the strongest people I know are women. But yes, there are a lot of times when you should control your emotions–  times of crisis and need where you really can’t let them get involved. I have learned to pull my emotions out of a lot of big decisions.

You often make it a point to spread the message of gender equality in your shows. Could you describe that a little bit?

It is something I have been lucky enough to be educated about. I generally try to pay attention to it, make sure I get my facts from the best sources and whatnot, and I really relate to it. I never really subscribed to the archetype masculinity growing up, I had no interest in sports or anything like that. There was a time where I was called a girl so often that when I discovered the idea of transgenderism I considered myself to be more of a girl. So I identify with trans people and women a lot because I was a girl to a lot of people growing up. When I was doing MCR I think I finally got to display my femininity through the glam theatrical aspects of the band. It made me feel more hopeful, that I was allowed to be flamboyant. I want to make sure women and men and everyone in between feel safe and empowered.

Was there a person or thing that first sparked your interest in feminism?

When I was around 16 I became friends with these really cool girls, and that’s how I got exposed to Bikini Kill, Helium, Bratmobile—that was the real punk. All the other hardcore scenes at the time were a little bit hypermasculine and violent, which was totally unappealing to me. But here are these bands—Bikini Kill, et cetera that were actually talking about important things. That was real punk. Great bands.

What sort of advice can you offer to all of us boyz reading?

You have to surround yourself with ‘the others’. Whether they’re the creatives that you know or whatever it is. Because you guys will feed each other, that’s the nature of people. Find companions who will push you in the field you are in.

Do you hang onto traces of boyishness? Comics and digging up worms?

Well first off I don’t consider those things boyish. I am really happy that things like comics have become less marketed specifically toward boys—did you know that 50 percent of comic book readers are girls now? There is a really great picture I saw one time of a little girl with all the spiderman toys in a toy store clearly angry that they were in the ‘boys’ section. We need to let kids have more freedom of choice in who they want to be.

But answering your question, I have always been super into comic books. I didn’t really ever like sports, so I played dungeons and dragons a lot. That was a really important creative outlet for me. Of course I still love Star wars, and biking.

How do you find ways to stay positive?

Society is so interconnected these days, there is so much noise. It is really important I think to turn the noise down, to find ways to do so. Whether you’re in a creative field or not, you need to find a way to follow what is in your gut because that noise that is so obstructive is   creeping. Think about the art you make, the people you love.

My routine is really simple but important to me. I wake up every morning and my wife and I get our daughter ready for school and I drive her there. And that’s when work begins for me. I am lucky that one day I can be recording a new song and the next I am putting all of my energy into a comic.

Do you consider your marriage to be a partnership?

I am very glad you asked. I consider my whole family dynamic a three way partnership actually. My wife and I have been partners since day one, and now our daughter is the newest addition to the mix. Of course we have different duties to each other—my wife and my job is to educate my daughter  and make her feel great and teach her how to work hard, to let her choose what she loves. That’s very important to us. It is great coming home from the road because Lindsay (my wife) and I get to work together more.

Thank you so much for doing this interview, is there anything we haven’t touched that you want to say?

Don’t chase your dreams, let your dreams chase you

[starlightsreigns]

hold up | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's hanging on by a thread. how much longer can she hang on when one question coils deep in her? is roman... cheating on her? word count ⇢ 1.4k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. implied cheating | two ; denial “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you”

i don’t wanna lose my pride, but imma fuck me up a bitch.

“Melody, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” My friend Alyssa sighs. “Don’t you trust him?” 

That’s a great question. However, I’m past the point of giving a damn.  I’m literally driving myself to insanity with all of this and I’m not sure how to bring it up. How do you confront the love of your life about something like this without him immediately going on the defense?

“I don’t trust him, that’s the problem, and I don’t know how to get back to that point anymore.” 

Alyssa is my moral compass, she tries to keep me levelheaded when I feel myself slipping. She’s my best friend, but she’s a big fan of Roman and I’s relationship — Alyssa refuses to believe that he’s this person, that he can be a cheater when he’s been so caring. She sees the best in him. 

“Mellie, what has he done to make you feel this way?”

My eyes meet hers, “Don’t make me feel crazy, Aly, I’m already losin’ it here.”

“I’m not sayin’ that, I promise, I’m just tryna understand how you go to this point.” Alyssa sits up. “Just help me understand and I promise we can fuck his shit up tonight.” She offers a smile. 

While she’s the more levelheaded one of us, the thing I love the most about her is her willingness to support any and every decision I make — even if it’s the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

That’ll be helpful later. 

Somethin’ don’t feel right because it ain’t right.. Comin’ up after midnight

The house is the coldest it’s ever been in a long time. I’m pretty sure the only source of heat is coming from the anger seeping out of my pores when I hear his keys in the lock as I sit on the couch. A book sits in my lap untouched as he comes in through the door. 

“Hey, Mellie,” Roman throws my way lazily. He comes over to kiss my cheek and I can’t help but smell the perfume that radiates off his body. Chanel. At least the bitch has taste. “You up late.” 

My brain wants to cuss him out, but thankfully restraint still exists when I finally reply. “I’d say the same for you, baby, where you been at?”  

Roman glances in my direction while heading to the kitchen, “I went to the PC then had dinner with the twins.” 

“Oh, the twins are in town?” My eyes train on his back. 

There’s no way they can be in town. During a call with Trinity earlier in the day, she told me that her husband and his brother were doing house shows during the week, so, it’s impossible for them to be at dinner. Yet, he seems to think I’m the biggest idiot on planet earth. 

“Yeah, we went to that steakhouse on 85th.” Roman shuts the fridge and turns to look at me. “Then we got drinks at Tini’s and watched the game.” 

Of course, he has an answer for everything. A tinge of rage strikes me in my chest while watching how calm he is. 

“What game did you watch?” 

That stops him for a moment. 

But I continue, “I watched a couple on split screen.” 

Roman runs his hand over his beard then takes a long swig of beer. 

“Cowboys versus the Texans was good.” I bait with a small smile. 

“Yeah, that’s the one, we ain’t seen the results though.” 

Well, of course, he didn’t, maybe because those two teams didn’t have a game tonight. 

To not lose my cool, I let the conversation go. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eyes as I pretend to read my book. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve caught him in more lies than I can count — and there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me he knows. 

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?

Most people would judge me and I don’t blame them. Even with my suspicion, I can’t deny the love and affection I have. So, here I am under him. I can’t help it. 

“Look at me, baby,” Roman’s rough voice sharpens my attention. “you look so beautiful.” He runs his hand down my cheek. 

His eyes on me, for the first in a while, feels like how it used to be. It makes me forget all the pain that I’ve felt for so long. This is what I want back. 

My hand grips his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed, maneuvering so I’m on top. 

The gems on my acrylic nails catch some of the light from the moon. My hands are pressed against his chest, holding me steady, keeping the rhythm of our skin slapping together. I throw my head back with a moan, feeling the way he raises his hips to reach deeper into me. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe out, leaning down to kiss his neck. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” 

It was the truest thing I’ve ever said. It is the truest thing I’ll ever say. 

How did it come down to this?  scrolling through your call list

His phone is empty. She’s not on here, but I know she exists. How can I keep living in the paranoia where I know the ghost exists but there’s no proof of it? I toss his phone back onto his side of the bed with a huff just as he walks out of the bathroom. 

“what’s wrong?” He takes a look at my exasperated expression.

“You know how much I love you, right?” My voice is harsher than I wanted, but it catches his attention. “And we made our vows to be loyal to one another, i’m keeping my end.” 

Roman knits his eyebrows together, “I love you, too, Mellie.” He sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll always be here.” 

The reassurance I was hoping to feel never comes. Instead, I’m slowly feeling rage. But, I don’t respond but nod. I can’t look jealous or crazy, that’ll only drive him away or make him sneakier. If anything, I need him to slip up. That’s the only way I can make sense of this — Lord, give me a sign. 

What’s worse? Lookin’ jealous or crazy?... I’d rather be crazy. 

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, my eyes fixated on the TV screen that flickered in the darkness. Roman was sound asleep beside me and my nerves had finally calmed enough for me to wonder if I was going insane. 

I’ve found no tangible proof. Maybe, just maybe, I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t true –possibly self-sabotaging and self-destructing. If I don’t stop now, all my hair will fall out from the stress. Three months of thinking these thoughts are slowly killing me. Not that he’s noticed, but I’ve lost 25 pounds in my mission to find out the nonexistent truth. 

My eyes are slowly closing when his screen catches my attention. It’s three in the morning, who could possibly be texting him? I’ve just come to an agreement with myself and now I’m plunged back into the uncertainty. I should just turn over and fall asleep, but I just need to look at the message and I’ll be over it. 

J: are you really not coming over tonight, baby? i miss you. mellie sees you more than enough. just come over and be back before she wakes up.

My eyes scan the message over and over again. I’m not sure what else I’m looking for, but I’m hoping that at some point the message would read something different — something that doesn’t confirm all my suspicions. I cover my mouth when the tears start to fall, not wanting to wake him up and find me in this position. My chest feels heavy and my feet are a ton of bricks when I make it out of bed. 

Out in the hallway, I slide down the wall with my hands still firmly covering my mouth to swallow the sobs. This isn’t what I wanted nor was it what I needed. My brain feels scrambled with incoherent thoughts. What do I do now? Should I leave? Should I take a baseball bat to his head? Yet, the only thing I’m sure of right now is that I might throw up.

It’s difficult for me to get back up to my feet. My body shakes uncontrollably in the darkness and my breathing is shallow until I’m taking deep breaths. I turn to glance into the room, feeling my skin heat up. This feeling isn’t sadness, it isn’t hurt, or disappointment. I’m past denial – what I’m feeling is scorn and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

“But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

please excuse the errors, classes are kicking my ass. hope you’ve enjoyed it 🫶🏽 very excited to post “don’t hurt yourself” x

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The hollowness remains. It feels like there’s stones rattling around in your chest. You don’t think you ever truly understood the word frazzled until that moment. 

And each time you glance over and see Rogers’ bloody knuckles, it adds to the frenetic energy trapped inside you. Your mind flashes with the sight of him on top of that man, fists raining down, blood on the asphalt. Each time, a tide of dizziness threatens to sweep you away. 

He finally pulls up to a grey brick building. You look at your watch. It’s been barely half an hour since you left the firm but it feels like a lifetime. 

He gets out without a word. You follow suit, or try to. You push the door open, only to be trapped by the seat belt still strapped across you. You grunt and unclick it. You grab your briefcase and lean heavily on the door as you set your feet on the ground. 

You stand and teeter in your short heels. Where are you? Scratch that. You don’t want to know. You know that it’s best to know nothing and not ask any questions. 

“Hurry up,” Rogers hand curls around the top of the car door. You step away and he swings it shut. He points tersely to the building, “in.” 

You obey, gripping tight the leather handles of your bag, and scurry ahead of him. You feel like a mouse with a cat slowly stalking you from behind. 

There are two men standing outside the doors of the building. You look between them with wide eyes. They don’t seem to see you but are quick to nod to the man at your tail. 

“Rogers,” one intones and gets as much answer as you have so far. 

The blond henchman opens the door and you flit inside. This is like a cartoon. It’s absurd. You don’t know much about these type of people, you were never into those movies. Kind of boring in your opinion and besides, this is real life. 

“Hey, you’re going the wrong way,” Rogers calls as you turn left without thinking. “Up.” 

He points upstairs and you turn back and nod. You show your teeth and push your shoulders up, “sorry.” 

He waits and walks up at your side. Your eyes trail again to his hand. His long fingers twiddle in agitation. Would he do the same to you if you step out of line? 

You trip over the top step and he catches your arm before you can topple. You suck in air, terrified, and right yourself. 

“Sorry, er, thanks,” you utter. 

He lets you go with a sigh and points to his right. You’re going to mess this up. God, why did Brenner send you? You’re a new accountant, you aren’t prepared for any of this. Well, they didn’t exactly offer a class on the underworld, did they? 

“You’re breathing loudly,” Rogers says as he stops at a door. 

You blanch and hold your breath. You look at him and blink. His brows arch. 

“You can breathe, just... quietly,” he shakes his head. 

He taps on the left door in the double set before you. He drops his hand to the curled candle and pushes inward. You stare at his knuckles again. He nudges you ahead of him. 

You walk into the room as you wring the handles of your briefcase. There’s a man inside. Is he the big bad? Then what does that make Rogers? 

You look between them and sway. Your head is spinning. You haven’t had breakfast yet. 

“Buck,” Rogers says dully.  

“That them?” The man behind the desk asks. His dark hair is swept back as his thick beard defines his already square jaw. He wears a silver tie and a black suit. These men might be criminals but they dress well. 

“She can count,” Rogers says. 

“Great,” the other man replies flatly. “And she understands?”  

“She does.” Rogers assures. 

Your eyes skitter back and forth. What are they talking about? What do you understand?

The man he calls Buck exhales. His eyes lower and you follow them. Once more you’re looking at the bloody knuckles. 

“You been scrapping?” The man behind the desk accuses. 

“Keeping order,” Rogers crosses his arms. 

The other man tuts and looks at you, “what did he do?” 

Your eyes round and your head swirls. You tilt your head one way then the other. You can feel Rogers watching you. You don’t know much about being bad, you’re a good girl, but you know you don’t snitch. 

Again the scene plays like a reel in your head. That man’s face smeared across the pavement, the horrible sound of his ribs cracking against leather shoes. 

“I... He did...” you wisp and lock your knees, “he did what needs to be done. You know... he...” 

Your eyes roll back and you tip backwards. You don’t feel the crash. You sink into the black cushion of your subconscious, content to escape into the void. 

You wake in a leather chair. The two men stand before you, looking down at you as your head lolls. You grumble and flutter your lashes. 

“She okay?” The dark-haired man asks. 

“She does that,” Rogers puts his hands on his hips. “She’s awake.” 

“I can see.” The other man sneers and reaches under his jacket. You follow his hand as he rests it on his holster. You gulp at the silver butt of the handgun there. “Time for the talk,” he reaches his other arm above you and leans in. “You hear me?” 

You nod as you stare at the gun. 

“Look at me,” the man demands. Rogers grunts, a warning. You look into the man’s bold blue eyes. “Anyone asks you anything about me, or him, or anything that happens inside these walls, you keep your mouth shut.” 

You slump as your head throbs. You feel the blackness creeping up. He snaps his fingers in front of your face. 

“Stay with me here,” he says. “Look, we aren’t gonna hurt you. Not unless you give us a reason. So, you keep those lips zipped and do your work, you’re good as gold. You understand me?” 

You show your teeth and nod. 

“And as long as you’re working for me, you’re under my protection. Got it? Rogers will take care of you.” He pushes himself straight and turns to face the other man, “get her some water before she passes out again.” 

[stark-ironman]

What happens in Vegas... Part 2

18+ No Minors

A/N: guess who finally wrote a long fic!! Well long for me. This was going to be 3 parts but I got carried away. I still could though 😈 also, the Hugh drama with his Broadway costar came back up during this sooooo i wrote it in. Enjoy 😁

Warnings: Accidental marriage, angst, jealously, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it)

Part 1

The next few weeks have flown by quickly as you and Hugh learn more about each other and this new life you both chose to live. The four of you had to leave Vegas early due to the fact someone leaked some pictures from inside the wedding chapel and your hotel was swarmed by paparazzi.

Ryan and Blake reassured you that everything was okay and they was fine going home early because they was ready to see their kids. Even Hugh tried his best to cheer you up but it didn't last long due to the fact your publicists and both of your families were blowing your phones up with questions on your relationship.

As of right now, everybody thinks that the relationship has been under wraps for a while now and you both decided to just elope so until you're ready to discuss it, only Ryan and Blake know the actual details of what happened. Since leaving Vegas, you and Hugh decided it would be a better and safer decision to stay at your house in Colorado instead of his penthouse in New York.

Your place is secluded on a big plot of land and it's been the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to learn about each other in a more intimate way, minus the kissing and the sex. Don't get it wrong, you want to do those things with him but you both agreed to move slow with this relationship so you're waiting on Hugh to feel comfortable enough to make the first move.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Hugh asks taping his fork on your plate, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What did you say?" You look at him and see a small smile on his face. "I asked what are we going to do when it's time for me to head back to New York since you live here and I live there." He says cutting another piece of steak.

"I've been thinking about that actually and I wanted to talk it over with you. You know how I feel about living in big cities, especially New York.." Hugh nods and you continue, "Would you want to move here and we just keep your place in New York so we could visit? Or we find a house on the outskirts of New York?"

Hugh takes a deep breath and thinks it over for a moment before saying, "You're my home, darling. I will go wherever you go." You feel your heart skip a beat at his words and tears well up in your eyes. "Are you sure? I know how much you love New York." He grabs your hand and nods. "We can visit whenever we want. Since staying here with you, I've become a little spoiled by this secluded farm life you live. I love being here and I love being with you." His voice is sincere and you can't help but feel yourself falling in love with him even more.

"Hugh, I need to tell you something.." You start to say but you're interrupted by his phone going off. Hugh apologizes and answers, standing up and walking away, leaving you with your thoughts.

You almost admitted to this man that you love him and while you're sure he feels the same, you don't know if he's ready to take that step yet. One thing about Hugh Jackman, the man is a flirt with everyone. He's a very smooth talker and he is really easy on the eyes. Would he be willing to give all that up? Would he ever cheat on you when he tires of you?

While you know him as a loyal friend, you don't know him as a partner or a lover. Yes, right now he's saying he's happy with you but what happens once you both go back to work and he has to kiss a girl for a movie? Or do a sex scene with one? You know you're not the best looking woman in Hollywood but you try to at least hold the self confidence of one.

Your eyes search across the room until they land on Hugh and you can't help but admire the way his back muscles look and how his pants fit in just the right places. You need to snap out of this little crush before you wind up hurting yourself and the friendship you two have had for many years.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Hugh walking back in the dining room, sitting back across from you with a sigh. "That was my agent. They want me to come back to New York and do a Broadway show called The Music Man." He says, looking in your eyes as if trying to see your reaction. "When do they want you to leave?" You ask, trying to be a little nonchalant but you know he can tell you're not happy. "They want me to fly out of here tomorrow and be in rehearsals the next day."

"You should go. It's a great opportunity for you." You say. "Are you sure?" Hugh's eyes widen, shocked at you giving him the opportunity to leave. "I'm not going to stand in the way of this. You love singing and I love seeing you happy. Plus, I can come stay with you once I get things settled here."

Hugh breaks out in a smile, kissing your hand softly before standing up. "Let me go pack and we will spend the rest of the night watching movies and cuddling." He runs off to pack, leaving you sitting at the table by yourself with a heavy heart.

You don't want him to go but you're not the type of person to ruin a great opportunity for anybody, especially Hugh. You just hope he doesn't find somebody else while you're both away from each other.

------

It's been about a month since you've seen Hugh. He had his first show and you was there in the front row happily supporting him but shortly after the show ended, rumors circulated that Hugh was already cheating on you with his co-star, especially after she came out saying they spend a lot of time together in her dressing room. You seen the chemistry on stage between them but you was hoping it was nothing.

Hugh has tried to call and text you for the past couple of weeks but either you've short replied him or just said you was too busy to talk.

You were hurt. You knew it, Hugh knew it, everybody knew it. Ryan and Blake have even tried calling to tell you the rumors weren't true but you just couldn't handle hearing it.

A knock on your door sounds throughout the house and you already know who it is. "Darling, please open the door." Hugh's voice is muffled by the door but you ignore it, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again.

"Baby, please. I promise you nothing happened between me and her. She's just doing it for the publicity." He says, hearing something sliding against the door as he continues, "I know things have been less than ideal with us but the past few months have been the happiest of my life and it's all because of you. I only have eyes for you, even before we got together, it was always you. Ryan used to make fun of me for how in love with you I was and that's never changed. Accidentally marrying you was the best thing I ever did and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I love you, darling and if you don't want me here then at least tell me that you don't."

Hugh goes silent and you can't help but walk towards the window, seeing him sit with his back against the door wiping at his eyes. You open the door slightly, watching as he stands up quickly to look at you.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, looking into his eyes, "I knew this would happen the day you recieved that phone call to go back to New York. I didn't want you to go but I will never stand in the way of your career. I tried to stop myself from being happy with you, from loving you, but no matter what I do I can't help but fall in love with you even more with each passing day. I ignored you because I was scared the rumors were true and I wanted to protect myself. You're a natural flirt, you do it without even knowing majority of the time and I didn't want to make you change anything about yourself. I love you the way you are but Hugh, I don't want you giving other girls the time of day. Call me selfish, call me whatever but I want you to myself. I want to have kids with you and live on a plot of land away from the spotlight. I love you more than I ever loved anybody and it scares the shit out of me."

Your confession causes the tears to flow as Hugh steps in the house, taking your face in his hands as he wipes the tears away. "I want this. I want you." He whispers, looking down at your lips.

His lips meet yours. Your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, vaguely hearing the door shut as he leads you to the living room, laying you gently on the couch as he slots himself in between your legs.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head as his lips meet yours again, his tongue running across your bottom lip before sliding past and attacking your tongue. A moan escapes your lips,

"Do you want to stop?" He mumbles against your lips. "No." You whisper back and he quickly sits up, removing your clothes before doing the same to his. Your eyes widen, quickly remembering the last time you two had sex was when you both blacked out in Vegas, but Hugh quickly reassures you. "I'll take my time, darling. I'll be easy... today." He smirks, crouching on the ground as he spreads your legs,

Hugh admires your core, as if savoring the whole thing to memory before lowering his head and licking a stripe up your slit, running it over the little nub and teasing it. "Taste so perfect.." He murmmers, wasting no time closing his mouth down and latching onto you as if he's been starved. You gasp as his tongue worked against you with long, calculated strokes, your hand gripping his hair as if your life depended on it as his lips enclose around the sensitive little bud.

You moaned his name loudly, your back arching with each pass of his tongue as the pleasure hits in ways you've never experienced before, your head falling back against the arm of the couch.

His mouth continues it's assault, your legs trembling around him as he pulls you close to your orgasm when you feel two of his fingers slide in, his lips enclosing around your sensitive spot causing you to cry out from the pleasure. He slides a third finger in, pumping his fingers into you as your release rips through you, keeping his mouth on you as he works you through your release.

Your body trembles and you're left breathless, thighs shaking from the intensity of the moment as he sits back to look at you with the most sinister smirk you've ever seen on him. His lips glossy and his hair tousled from what just happened and he leans forward, kissing you deeply to let you taste yourself.

Hugh's hand grabs his base, rubbing the head of his erection against your entrance and you shiver from the sensitivity, moaning softly when he dips his head down towards your breast and takes a nipple in his mouth.

He presses the tip against your wet folds, sliding into you slowly as if to not hurt you. Once he bottoms out, he let's you adjust to his length and when you give him permission to move, he moves slow making each thrust hard and deep. You notice he's holding back though so you decide to remind him not to.

"Hugh," You breathe out, "I won't break.. you can fuck me." Hugh let's out a low growl, placing your legs over his shoulders as he starts pounding into you, the force causing the couch to slightly move and your fingers to dig in his forearms.

His thrusts continue to go deep as you watch his head fall back from the pleasure, his mouth slightly open and low moans fall from within. "Fuck, I knew you were made for me... your pussy was made to be all mine.." He grunts, leaning down to sloppily kiss you, pressing your knees to your chest. "I'm never letting you go after this. You own me now, baby." His voice is full of promise and you kiss him again, holding on tightly to his shoulders while he continues his hard, brutal pace.

"Hugh... I'm close.." You choke out against his lips and he smirks at you. "Come for me baby." He says angling his hips just slightly, memorizing your face as you release all over his cock, moaning softly when he hears his name fall from your lips.

He continues his pace, chasing his own release. You clenching around him pulling him closer and closer, finally releasing deep inside of you and a deep growl erupting from him. Hugh rides out both of your releases, thrusting slowly inside of you for a few minutes before finally pulling out, both of you moaning softly at the feeling.

Hugh grabs you and pulls you on top of him, holding you close as he kisses the top of your head and you play with his chest hair. "I meant it, darling. After today, you own me. I don't want anybody else." He softly says, looking down at you. "I'm all yours too. Especially after that." You say with a chuckle, causing him to chuckle to.

"Will you marry me, again?" Hugh asks and you lift your head up to look at him. "I know it's not the most romantic time but we agreed we would do a ceremony if we chose to be together. I want to marry you and say our vows, this time with us both remembering it."

"I would marry you in every lifetime." You say, kissing him softly.

For the first time since Vegas, you finally feel like everything is falling into place and you are extremely happy for the future with Hugh.

[drdemonprince]

I know so many people who are certain the world is about to end. They’ve felt this way since about 2016 or so. They are neurotic and unempowered, refreshing their Twitter feeds and making posts begging others to stay worried and go vote. 

Some of them are leftists, and say they wish to see an end to capitalism, perhaps even to America — but when the possibility starts actually feeling real to them, they fear crime, and chaos, and their own helplessness. They joke uneasily that we live in “The Bad Place” but they are too afraid to get to the good one. They don’t want to see an end to their quiet street corner, their cozy condominium, their favorite television shows on streaming, their door with a lock. They admit this world is hell but they try to claim their own corner of it and keep it comfortable. 

I’ve been in the exact mental spot as these people, so I don’t mean to make myself sound superior. For the longest time, all I wanted to do was find a few comforting distractions to get me through the years before my death. I went to bed with my stomach in knots, certain that one day the power grid would go dark, the water would stop flowing, and the fascists would march in the streets and no one would stop them. 

Back then I didn’t fantasize that I would do anything to stop them. I picture things differently now. 

I used to think that voting and calling representatives were my only avenues for political participation, but now I see that with every choice I am not merely voting for a better world, I am creating it. When I fund a friend’s jaw surgery, when I look an unhoused person in the eyes and ask them how they are doing, when I slow my walking speed, when I share my knowledge, I am making decisions about how the future will be. I am not powerless. I am small, and vulnerable, but I always have something to give. 

I think that when we are feeling powerless and afraid of the collapse, it’s helpful to shift our attention toward practical, empowering questions like these:

If the government collapsed today, what would I do tomorrow?

The End of the World is a big, frightening abstraction. But if some terrible disaster (or glorious revolution) were to happen today, all I’d have to do tomorrow is make a few basic decisions. What would I eat? Where would I sleep? Who would I contact first? 

At the end of the world there are still dirty clothes and rumbling bellies. Those pressing physical needs are the most immediate questions we will need to answer, not larger philosophical quandaries about what life is “for,” or what the ideal new political system should be. For those more essential questions, there will always be answers: canned food to gather, lakes to wash off in, stories to be traded across candlelight. 

The future that we expect is just a fiction we tell ourselves, and it has never been guaranteed. And so, when some dramatic change comes, we can focus not on the loss of certainty, but on the practicalities: finding shelter, getting fed, and keeping the people around us as safe as we can. This is already what life is about — and we’re all more practiced in survival than we might think. 

If the world as I know it ended, what would still be important to me?

Hitting my weekly wordcount goals wouldn’t matter at all anymore, I know that much. But in the wake of a terrible collapse I would still value my friends, my immediate family, my chinchilla, and the people I see every day. I wouldn’t be so fixated on never seeming ‘awkward’ or ‘creepy’; the moment disaster happened, I would just get over myself and knock on my neighbors’ doors. 

If the world ended, I’d stop caring about my appearance, but I’d still long for a mode of self-expression like fashion currently provides. I wouldn’t think of my writing “career,” but I’d still want to be heard. I can imagine myself giving a small speech to my neighbors, trying to persuade them to take whatever course of action I thought best. I would be wrong often and not always persuasive, but I would still get to express myself and witness how that expression influences the world. I’d take care of more animals. I’d worry less about my apartment getting banged up and wrecked. 

It’s worthwhile to contemplate the people we will become after capitalism. The rhythms of our lives will change, as will our priorities. We may harbor fears about all that may be lost, but it’s worth asking whether our possessions and favorite TV shows and Twitch streamers are really all that important. I often find myself looking forward to the person I could become in this new reality. And those thoughts often motivate me to make small changes in who I am and what I prioritize right now.

The full essay also contemplates these questions about the apocalypse:

What would I feel unburdened from?

What important work would I keep doing?

What skills do I have that people will always need? 

What help would I ask for? 

You can read the full piece for free, or have it narrated to you in the Substack app, right here.

[loveandleases]

Full Disclosure, I went through PAGES of tags to find the Pregnant-by-Chris!MC asks so I could revisit the angst, and it also got me wondering. How would the ROs react if MC ended up pregnant with their kid? And with regards to the F!ROs and trans ROs, how would they react if THEY got pregnant by MC? I'm down with this going in a fluffy or angsty direction, as you gathered from my search for the previous asks about it, so answer however you like!

Oh noo. I swear I'll get to work on the masterpost so you can find things easier, it's been a long time coming and I need to stop procrastinating. I feel like I did this ask before...but I'm not positive. So I'll do it again with how the RO's have developed. Below the cut~ (Tagged with pregnancy for those who don't want to read.)

❤️ Cam - Ec-fucking-static. At first. Cam would be so pleased because finally his own family. Not that MC and Em weren't already. He would give all of his love to his child, unlike what he got from his parents. Then there would be the problem. What if he's just like his parents? What if he's unable to love them the way they need or support them when they need it. MC would have to have an honest heart-to-heart with him.

💙 G - Very nervous at first. There are a lot of things to consider such as school and childbirth. Is their current living space even safe for a kid? And what if MC or G has more than one kid, it's possible. G would need a bit to kind of come to terms with it. Once they have, G is golden. They're happy and don't bother to try and hide behind their cool demeanor.

Now if ex-G/MC had gotten pregnant. It would be so painful for them, because would MC want to be in the picture or would MC allow them to be. If the breakup still happened and MC had gotten with Chris, G would fight with everything they have to see their child, or to give MC the chance to see them. (it's bittersweet)

💚 Kara - So she would be scared more than anything. Happy comes way later, once she's sure this is what she wants. Because for Kara, she doesn't really get to make her own decisions so much of her life is decided for her. If her first real big decision is having a kid, she's going to ace it. First off by having a chat with her parents (who would to overstep), then MC's parents. About what is allowed and isn't. The grandparents don't get to dictate the pregnancy, the childbirth, the child. If they want to be involved then they will be expected to abide by Kara and MC's wishes or be cut out. That simple. (She will buy too many baby clothes ahead of time, it will be a problem)

💛 M - What!? Excuse you, whose pregnant? With a baby? Like an actual human being? How did this happen!? (This is M's reaction regardless of whose pregnant. )MC has to remind shocked M how in fact that did happen. In which case M turns blood red and refuses to look at MC until they've calmed down.) M is going to go through 5 stages. 1 being shock, 2 being really shocked 3 understanding 4 go back and repeat step 1, 2 and 3. 5 acceptance. Leading them all the way to joy. M will take a good bit before they get through those steps, but when they do they're happy, nervous but happy. M isn't sure how to deal with kids. If they have one should they just go ahead and have another too? M will want to call their mothers' immediately. Get some info about raising a kid and what to expect. They will order far too many books about kids and what to expect when you're expecting. (take their computer for their own good)

💜 Isaac - They very well might have a breakdown, and it's not due to not wanting to have a kid with MC. It's more of knowing that you're not promised forever, as someone who lost their mother. Isaac is going to take it hard. Because she will never get to see her grandchild, and Isaac will never get to have that moment with her. Now onto how they feel outside of that, Isaac will struggle. Because they realize they have something else to lose, and to someone who is afraid of committing due to that it's not an easy situation to be in. They would need reassurance, that this is what MC wants. That they'll work hard, and together will do their best for their child. Isaac wants to be there for everything, every checkup, every milestone. All of it. Proudest parent ever.

🖤 Ardent - The amount of breeding jokes to be told : 14. The amount of tears shed: Over 50. Which he will deny with every breath. They're happy tears. Happy to have a family with MC, happy for his niece to have a cousin to navigate the world with. He is too happy, so cocky. Rubbing MC's belly, giving it so many kisses. He did that, him! Can you believe it? Not to mention, Cupid is going to have to take classes now. That's the first step, Cupid learning how to behave around babies. Ardent is very big into reading, he will overread though. Like MC is going to learn the nitty gritty just like he is. Oh, and they'll probably have to move if they're currently living in the apartments. To a place with an actual yard, the kind his parents had back in Greece. MC will be spoiled, because Ardent will cook every meal. He will ensure MC doesn't have to life a finger, or even Cupid if they feel like they can't. He would be a great dad, plus he has been saving up dad jokes. I apologize ahead of time.

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.” 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?”