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spotaus · 8 days ago

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New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

#new age au #Y'ALL my formatting obliterated my italics so I apologize....#some narrative beats will feel weird!!! raugh!!!!#anyways yeag #Cross is a goofy lil guy and he's strong af #but he's also very naive and quick to trust blindly. even when he thinks he's being careful and getting a second opinion #and also he's not quite ready to fight to kill again and so Dust is quick to push him around there at the end <3 #neither are trying to kill eachother (The Knights agreed they'd try and get information. Cross just doesn't want blood on his hands or a #target on his back.)#and Dust is just a lot more exoerienced!#Cross' msgic btw (if it isn't clear) is a weird subversion of the Overwrite power #where Cross can temporarily seize control of a Monster's magic and use it against them as though it's his own (relies on embedded #Determination to 'overwrite' control lol)#unfortunately for Cross? Dust's magic isn't actually originating from his soul. it's *outside #* his soul providing power and energy that his emotions influence as though it's his soul.#so Cross can decide where the magic is concentrated. but not where or who or how it manifests a #d attacks :]#so. Cross basically pulled all of Dust's small concentrated bursts of controlled magic and released them directly into his own face lmao #Dust's magic is truly an enigma <3 #AND I think later on when they work together Cross helps Dust center and aim his magic (because Dust is just used to dealing with its chaoti #c nature rather than actually controlling it. so it's a bonus special combo attack they could do if they needed that specific #style of attack!)#anywho yeah #Shep will be a reoccurring character btw. he and Harper I think!#Harper is a young upstart who actually kinda likes being in the castle (Cats being sacrificed for so long in the kingdom did leave a bad rep #on Cat monsters. so Nightmare being fond of and protecting them makes Harper feel a lot more loyalty than she'd like to admit.)#and Shep. well. let's just say Nightmare hired him on for the guard personally :]#andd yeah!!!#i'm sure I'm missing something but I hope y'all enjoy!!!

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alwaysshallow · 1 year ago

Text

boys trying to survive nnn with their partner (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)

a/n: if it wasn't for @blissful-bunny, there wouldn't be nnn. LMAOOO i hope y'all will enjoy, it's my first time doing something like this... and i think i don't hate it as i did before!

mdni, as always. nsfw below + keegan's version here

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Being around Ghost durning this time is funny, to say the least. You know about this bet from Gaz, when you invited the whole Task Force 141 for dinner. There wasn't much of a reaction from you, just a nod and a hum that's interesting to hear that. Nothing more, until your boyfriend's friends went home, and you stayed with him, washing dishes.

"You think you're gonna last?" you ask, and you pretty much can't stop yourself from laughing when he gives you a side eye.

"'s just a month." he grumbles, and you know, you somehow irritated him. Or, the bet did, you're not really sure. "Been through worse."

Theoretically, it is true. He's military, he has seen things that you won't ever see, something so stupid like this challenge shouldn't be something hard to do.

Practically? Practically, he takes every fucking chance to get closer to you. You're making breakfast, showering, washing the dishes? He's gonna be right behind you. It's not surprising at first, he liked to be near you always, but it has a malicious intent to it, when he drags his clothed cock up and down your ass, grunting right into your ear. He gets you worked up, and you're pretty sure he's gonna lose, but he stops right before he cums.

You can't really decide if it's funny or sad to see him like this. It's his pained expression that he gives when he bites on his lower lip, grumbling something about watching you touching yourself, so it will be better. You can't really say no to a man starved, so you put out a show for him, thinking how so much better his fingers would be in your pussy.

If it would depend on you, you'd kneel and relieve him, but what can you do, when he has this ridiculous challenge of his?

He breaks after two days, when he sees you in your shared gym, exercising. It's unexpected, when he puts down dumbbells you were working with, doing squats; you want to ask what's wrong, but when he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall, you just know. You even forgive him when he doesn't prep you enough, and he just thrusts into you without much thinking of it, his balls heavy.

You know you won't leave this gym for a long time.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're participating in what?"

To say it was weird, was one thing. To say that Kyle does it, was even weirder, especially that he was straight from two months of deployment. Needy. You knew it, as you were with him almost three years by now, he had always spent hours in bed with you because he missed you like a madman. These two months were pretty much the longest you've been separated with him, so, you can imagine your surprise, when you learned about the challenge, when you two were cleaning your apartment. He was touching you every now and then, giving you little kisses, and now he was talking about something like this.

"I'm—"

"—No, I heard you" you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm like… trying to understand who convinced you to do so."

"Bet with Soap. Lad thinks 'm not gonna last with you." he murmurs, and you just know that this motherfucker made this as a personal challenge. So, you just nod your head, to Kyle's surprise on his pretty face. "That's… all you're gonna say?"

"What else I'm supposed to say?" you raise your eyebrow, amused. "That I feel sorry for you, this will do?"

"That ain't funny."

"It is, kind of funny." you grin, as you kiss his forehead, at which he closes his eyes, so you repeat kissing his forehead a few times. "I'm gonna support you in this, yeah? So it's gonna be easier."

It wasn't easier. You could see that he glances at you every now and then, when you are doing domestic things around the house, giving him little, encouraging smiles. Little do you know that Kyle's bulge is growing larger and larger every time he looks at you.

Gaz is pretty calm, at least until he sees you in his t-shirt (that is way too big for you) and just panties underneath, sitting right beside him with a bowl of popcorn. You two planned to watch a movie, but your boyfriend quickly brushes it off, as his hand wanders under the hem of your panties.

"Kyle, you—"

"I know." he almost growls, as he puts you on his lap.

The moment he feels your wetness, he's a gone man; he makes you ride him, and the challenge is just a fading memory, when his lips attack yours.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap is absolutely offended when everyone in Task Force 141 tells him he's gonna lose the challenge. He can't shut up about it for an hour straight, as he lays with his head on your lap, telling you something about celibacy and being true lover, not some "horny arse like the others". You listen to it with a small, amused smile on your lips because as much as you love your boyfriend, everyone is right about it.

He's not gonna last, and he knows it personally too, but you say nothing about it. You just listen to Johnny's ramblings, until his eyes are on you, observing your reaction so casually.

"What do ya think? 'm gonna beat it? Be the best?" he tilts his head like a puppy, squinting his eyes. It's an icy ground you're standing on right now.

"I think… it's gonna be hard." you answer; slowly, reluctantly. It's not something that he wants to hear though, as he groans, shaking his head with displeasure. "What? You asked!"

"I ken it's gonna be hard. 'm askin', if 'm gonna beat it" he emphasizes his last words, and you can feel he barely holds himself from rolling his eyes.

"…well, baby, as much as I have faith in you in other things…"

It's not a good answer for him, nor for a challenge, considering that you end up getting fucked by him – it's some kind of punishment, he tells you, when he folds you in half. He tells you that he also didn't lose the challenge, technically, as you had sex November 1st , at 3 a.m. You nod, hesitantly, so you could go to sleep without causing him to ramble about it again; you are exhausted.

It takes him three days of fucking you in various places to finally come into the conclusion that the challenge isn't for him. Three days of promising and hearing him whining that it's gonna be 'st the tip, baby, to feel you good.

"Good that you've figured that out." you say with a small smile, in restaurant's bathroom, his forehead against yours, as his cock is still buried deep inside you.

"Lasted longer than lads. Sure of that."

John Price

You want to think of your husband highly, when you hear of this stupid thingy. The authority, someone that leads the Task Force 141, setting the example for his younger proteges with his willpower. Someone who actually cares about engaging in challenges, even if they're stupid, even if he shouldn't even look at something like this.

Yet, you know John, you're married to him, for God's sake – and you know his sex drive. When this man is home, nothing and no one stops him from getting what he wants, and that's on you. In your mind, there's a core memory of him saying that he absolutely loves your pussy, multiple times.

So it's not a surprise that he doesn't participate in this challenge. It's not a surprise when he babbles about having kids with you while he fucks you wherever he can; kitchen counter, under the shower, your couch. His obsession over kids grew over this month more than ever, and you were happy to meet his expectations in a middle, since you thought of having a little angel in your small family for a longer time now. Having a dog wasn't enough.

A surprise comes when he proudly admits that he won in the end of the month. Boys are pretty much shocked by this, considering that their Captain didn't even look frustrated once, and he was in better mood than usual. Yet, they don't have a place to complain, so they accept the defeat with a frown on their faces, and a quick comment from Soap that he for sure cheated.

"You didn't win, honey." you laugh to him, sitting at his lap, when he's in his office, alone.

Price arches his eyebrow in amusement. "I did."

"That's not really—"

"Listen, we were tryin' for babies, weren't we? It wasn't egoistical fuckin'." he explains, completely serious.

It takes all in you not to either gasp or laugh again. "So, if it would be without the intention of making babies, you'd lose?"

He gives you a quick nod. "Exactly, missus. Exactly."

Alejandro Vargas

It's easy to last a few days for Alejandro. Maybe even a week, or a bit more. With his kind of work, being a Colonel, you often didn't see him for days, or even weeks if it was a bad time. Right now, with working over destroying a Mexican cartel, being home was rare for him. Was it saddening? Of course, but you knew what you were doing when you married him, you've talked with him about it for days, maybe weeks, even.

So, maybe that's why he didn't really think much of a challenge when he agreed to it, one of the nights he was drinking with Los Vaqueros. Just for fun, just to make a fun memory in this mess they were in. Days were passing in the blink of an eye with the same routine; a few hours of sleep if he's lucky, patrol, documents, action and repeat. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new for a man of war like he is, he got used to it all.

Harder was the moment he came home to you, where you were waiting for him with your open arms, all needy for his presence, for his touch, but somehow, somehow he managed, giving you the best orgasm of your life with his mouth only, even if he was in need too.

"Cariño?" he calls you, confused, when he doesn't see you in bed in the next morning. In his sweatpants only, he goes to the kitchen, following the sound of pan that sizzles lazily in the background.

"Makin' breakfast, Ale!" you reply, looking behind your shoulder with the biggest smile that slowly falters the moment you see his eyes darkening in the span of seconds. "What's with the face?"

He approaches you slowly, caging you between his arms. "Just… appreciating" he says, as he starts kissing your neck "my little wife. Who's been really patient with me, gone for so many days. And now, you're making me breakfast—" he groans, shaking his head. You can feel his growing bulge, as you grind your ass against it.

It's obvious that Colonel lost the challenge, after he arrives to his work with his wife, his arm possessively around her. Why? Maybe it's your neck covered in hickeys, your trembling legs, or his arms visibly scratched, but no one says anything about it in the base.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

You have a kind of forbidden romance with him; you're the one of Los Vaqueros, and the romance is absolutely prohibited here, to prevent the collapse of the squad. Not to mention that he's a right hand man of Alejandro, so he has to follows the rules directly. Maybe even more than anyone here, to be honest; setting an example that he's not a exception to the rule.

It doesn't help that you're so kind. That you nod every time you see him as a silent greeting, and then you rush to do whatever you have to do today. It doesn't help him that you're helping everyone around you with a smile that could light up the whole town, and he smiles every time he sees it, too.

Everyone pictures that Rudy would win the challenge easily, since in their heads, his head wasn't occupied with anyone, and he could easily withold himself with his desires.

And maybe he would. Maybe he would, if you weren't the one guarding the base with him, if you weren't the one who was smiling at him with those plump lips of yours.

"If you'd only know how much I thought about… hah—" his breaths are ragged, as the pace of his hips gets quicker. His lips finds yours, as he kisses you with such hunger, you know without a doubt that he means what he says. It automatically makes you smile.

"It's fate that binds us, then" you say, your fingernails clutching at his arms; you're sure that you're the creator of bloody crescents here, but you can't care less about it. Not when the man of your dreams is fucking you.

He smiles at your words.

Rudy never been a good liar, and you painfully learn it, when Alejandro asks him why he's so happy; as you stand nearby, you hear the whole conversation. It's cute in some way, the way he's a blabbering mess, without any sense of it.

It takes Colonel's one look at you, and he knows.

You never walked faster to your work, neither did Rudy.

Konig

If you think he's gonna even try playing at this, you're in deep denial. Maybe if he'd be alone he could try of a genuine curiosity, but not when he has you. Such a pretty, obedient girlfriend, that he has wrapped around his finger, and a girlfriend that is pretty much at his service every time he wants.

He's a man to laugh about that challenge with his squad, telling them that they're filthy, and he would last the whole month, maybe even longer, if it weren't for you. Because he's such a caring boyfriend, he listens to your needs, even if you're whiny.

At least, that's the story that his squad knows.

He tells you about this while he folds you in half, that he needs to act a little grumpy around his squad, to put a facade that he's hungry because it's the right thing to do. When you suggest that he could even try, he barks a low laugh, while he pumps his cock before thrusting into you.

"Schatz, as if. Not gonna play the kids game." it's all he says, kissing you with affection on your swollen lips. "I do not intend on torturing you like this. You wouldn't survive a day without my dick."

There's some truth to it — but you're truly wondering if that's you who wouldn't survive without his dick, or he, that wouldn't survive without your pussy and sex, considering he is even more of a maniac than you are.

dividers by cafekitsune

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jeonginsleftcheek · 5 months ago

Text

A little help and more

pairing: virgin!felix x virgin!afab!reader x experienced!chan

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 5.7k

description: felix and you need a little guidance and chris is more than happy to assist.

warnings: threesome(obviously), sub!felix, switch!reader, dom!chan, oral (f and m receiving), handjobs, cumshots, squirting, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), little bit of ass play, dirty talk, lots of pet names (lmk if i missed something)

a/n: chan is called chris in this fic, established relationship, this turned out a little more fluffier than i thought it would be ehehe, hope y'all enjoy this one too🤭🩷

~check out my: Masterlist

Dating Felix was one of the best things you've ever decided to do and you knew that, even if it's barely been half a year since he first asked you to be his girlfriend.

You were always a little shy when it came to relationships but Felix was even more shy than you and it took him a long time just to ask you out on a date or to hold your hand.

You found it endearing really, it made him seem more sweet and genuine, like he wasn't coming onto you too strongly and you liked that.

But in certain situations you wished he was a little more assertive even if you didn't mind taking the lead, you had a bit more experience than he did and you wanted to take your physical relationship to the next level, share that intimate moment with him.

But Felix would always back out before anything too risky happened, and you worried he didn't find you attractive so you decided to confront him about it.

He got so embarassed when you pointed it out, his cheeks blushing instantly as he avoided your eyes and played with his fingers.

He reassured you that it's not your fault, and confessed that you were actually his first girlfriend, that he never even kissed anyone before. You were shocked, thinking that there's no way that someone as beautiful and sweet as him was single until now.

Felix never told you that before, thinking you weren't gonna date him if you thought he was clueless and inexperienced, he felt so bad for withholding the truth from you that you could see his eyes become watery.

You were quick to comfort him, telling him that you understand and that it's okay, you don't mind him being a virgin, you actually found it kind of adorable. You weren't that much more experienced than him anyways, you only ever went to second base with a guy you dated briefly before Felix and he seemed relieved to hear that, you were going to get into it for the first time together and that made it even more special.

After that talk, you were sure your boyfriend was going to relax and maybe try not to always be so respectful with his hands and lips.

But, the next time you initiated a makeout session, as soon as your hand slid up his thigh, he jerked away from you, apologizing profusely after doing so.

"Felix, what's wrong?"- you asked, frustration building up inside you but he looked so panicked that you tried to be as gentle as you could with him.

"I'm- I'm sorry love, it's just- I don't know what to do and I'm scared that I'll do something wrong or that it won't feel good to you. I know it seems like I don't want it, but I really do. I really want you. I just don't want to disappoint you."- he rambles, fidgeting with his hands.

"Lixie, you could never disappoint me. I don't know what I'm doing either but we can learn together."- you try to reassure him, placing your hand on his.

"I wish we had some help."- he says and you chuckle as his ears become red. "I- I didn't mean it like that. Maybe we could- um... watch some porn together?"- he asks quietly and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"You're really cute, you know that?"- you ask, kissing his nose and he laughs. "We can try that."

And you tried it but Felix got even more embarassed when you found a video to watch, covering his growing erection with a pillow and avoiding your gaze.

The arousal you felt was once again replaced by the frustration, the only reason you were so patient with him is because you really cared for him and didn't want to do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable or unsafe with you.

But then, a little light bulb turned on above your head as you accidentally came across a threesome video, and the knowledge of Felix being the type of person to learn things best when they're hands on, you decided to ask him what if you actually had someone there to help you?

And Felix admitted he had the same exact thought before, but was afraid to suggest it in case you thought it was gross.

Both of you laughed at your predicament and together you brainstormed on how to approach this and who to ask for help.

Your best option was Chris, your mutual friend who both of you always went to for advice and comfort. You trusted him completely and you knew he had experience and could help you out without judging you.

He was surprised at your proposition but he wasn't opposed to it, Chris just needed some time to process what you were suggesting to him.

And when he accepted, the three of you sat down and discussed your boundaries, and came to the conclusion that it's best to start out with something vanilla. You were both kinda excited to see how this would go, but neither of you knew just how much you would get.

That Saturday evening, the three of you sit in your room and even though you tried to make the atmosphere as chill as you could with scented candles and dim lights, Felix was still vibrating with nervousness.

You were nervous too, more so excited and Chris chuckled at the both of you, finding you so adorable in that moment.

"Why don't you start with some kissing? Maybe it'll help you relax if you start like you normally do and act like I'm not here."- Chris suggests.

"Okay, sounds good."- you nod, cupping your boyfriend's face and pressing your lips into his. You can feel Felix slightly relax against you and kissing you back gently, one of his arms curling around your waist timidly.

Chris watches the innocent kiss shared between you and something stirs inside him, his eyes narrowing and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You're just kissing slowly with your lips, no tongue yet and both of you are already getting hot and bothered. Chris observes the way you keep pressing your lips harder into your boyfriend's while he squirms, his hand grabbing at your shirt.

You run your tongue on Felix's bottom lip and he parts his lips, letting you in. The wet sounds of your tongues dancing together make Chris grow in his pants.

He doesn't want to just watch anymore, he wants to taste the both of you. You part for air and notice that Chris is now sitting closer to you, your heart skips a beat in anticipation.

His big hand rests on your cheek, and you can hear Felix breathing hard next to you. Your big eyes stare up at Chris as he leans in and captures your lips in his.

He's different than Felix, more dominant and sure of himself and you melt into him, letting him take control. The different dynamic makes arousal drip on your panties as your hands come up to grab at Chris's biceps.

Chris bites on your lip a little and you gasp, opening your mouth for him to push his tongue in. The way he swirls it around yours has you dizzy and you hold onto him, pressing your thighs together and moaning into his mouth.

Felix should be jelaous that another man is making you feel like that when he never did, but all he feels is arousal as his cock strains and twitches in his pants. He wants to touch himself so badly, but he's still embarassed and doesn't want to seem too eager.

When the two of you part, Chris turns to Felix who looks up at him with glassy innocent eyes and Chris smirks.

"You want some too?"- he asks and Felix nods fervently making you giggle at his cuteness.

Your boyfriend's face is flushed, the redness spreading to his neck as Chris cradles his head and starts kissing him. You notice the way Felix jolts and kisses back sloppily as Chris presses his lips into his roughly. Felix whimpers and Chris pushes his tongue in, tasting your boyfriend and making his eyes roll back.

The way Chris is leaning over your boyfriend, his head thrown back as he grabs at your friend's shirt make you feel extremely hot and your hand wanders between your legs as you gently press on your clit.

Your fingers move in circles as your eyes get hazy looking at the sight before you. Chris leans away from Felix who looks absolutely disheveled, his hair messy, eyelids droopy and a dribble of drool sliding from the corner of his lips.

"Baby, are you feeling neglected?"- Chris chuckles, beckoning you to come closer and you crawl closer to them, joining them in a kiss.

It's a mess of tongue, teeth and moans as the three of you kiss and touch each other.

"So, you never went any further than this?"- Chris asks.

"Well, after neck kisses is usually when we stop."- you say, and Felix looks down at his lap, feeling embarassed. You gently place your hand on his and squeeze and he looks up at you, giving you a sweet smile.

"Okay, show me."- Chris smirks and you lean in closer to Felix. He throws his head back as soon as your lips touch him, eyes shut tight as you leave wet kisses on his soft skin. Chris decides to join in and he kneels behind Felix, moving his hair out of the way as he starts kissing the back of his neck.

"Ah!"- Felix whimpers, his hands instantly grabbing at yours, it's too much stimulation for him already. Both of you are giving him all the attention right now as you place his hands on your waist, crawling even closer to him where you're almost sitting in his lap. Your hands are roaming on his chest and abs, and Chris places his hands on Felix's hips, pressing himself closer to your boyfriend, his teeth nipping at his sensitive skin.

Felix mewls between you, his head resting on Chris's shoulder as you sink your teeth in and start sucking on his skin, your hand sliding under his shirt, fingertips brushing at him.

"Mm- too much..."- Felix whines as Chris licks a stripe on his neck, then leaves little bites, his big hands gripping at Felix's thighs.

You lean back and look at your boyfriend and Chris smirks behind him.

"Why don't we give your beautiful girlfriend the same treatment?"- Chris asks lowly and you shiver, biting on your lip. Felix nods in a daze and you get comfortable as he leans in. His lips are gentle on your skin and he leaves sweet little kisses as Chris joins him, kissing the other side of your neck a bit more strongly.

The difference between their kisses and the stimulation you're receiving make you hot again and Chris notices you squirming around. His hand gently comes up to cup your breast, before he leans back and looks at Felix. Your boyfriend nips at your skin, like he's afraid to bite into it harder but you don't mind in this moment, you're already so turned on that even the smallest touch makes you crumble.

"Have you ever touched her breasts?"- Chris asks Felix and you feel your face burning as he gently squeezes you.

"N-no."- Felix whimpers, looking at Chris's hand.

"Do you want to?"- he smirks.

"Yes, yes, I want to!"- Felix nods fast and Chris takes his hand, placing it on your breast. You moan a little as Felix gasps and squeezes you.

"You can do it like this."- Chris says as he grabs your other boob, massaging it and running his thumb on your nipple that's now becoming perky and visible under your shirt since you didn't wear a bra.

Felix looks at Chris's hand like he's mesmerized and he repeats everything exactly as Chris is showing him.

You moan, arching into their touch, becoming desperate for more friction and more action.

"Do you play with your boobs when you touch yourself, y/n?"- Chris asks, leaving little kisses on your jaw.

"Y-yes."- you whimper.

"Show us."- Chris leans back, and Felix follows him.

You oblige, taking your shirt off and tossing it aside. Felix practically drools at the sight of your breasts and you don't waste any time as you start playing with your nipples, running your fingers on them and pinching them.

Chris can see how desperate Felix is to touch them, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he traces every movement you make with your fingers.

You moan quietly, eyes closed as you get into it.

"P-please..."- Felix says suddenly and you open your eyes.

"What do you want, baby?"- you ask.

"Your- your- i wanna touch-" - Felix mutters, clearly still embarassed.

Chris chuckles on the side, his hand coming up to touch Felix's cheek.

"Tell her what you want, Lix. Use your words."- Chris commands him and your boyfriend whimpers.

"Your titties- I want them in my mouth."- Felix whines, his eyes glassy and you smirk, arching towards him.

"Come here, baby."- you say and Chris presses the back of his head, gently pushing him towards your breast. Felix eagerly wraps his lips around your nipple and starts sucking.

"Mm."- you moan, staring at him as he looks up at you sweetly. Chris is getting incredibly hard in his pants and he accidentally grips Felix's hair.

Felix moans around you, sucking more harshly as his cock twitches in his pants.

"You like this, Lix?"- Chris asks curiously, pulling on your boyfriend's hair again.

He whimpers around you again, hands now gripping at your thighs as he trembles.

"I-I didn't know you liked it rough, Lixie."- you smirk at your boyfriend.

Felix closes his eyes, the attention is on him again and Chris can sense that he's getting embarassed again so he turns back to you, his hand on your other breast as he starts playing with it.

"You can use your tongue Lix, like this."- Chris leans in and starts flicking your nipple with his tongue. You mewl, gripping at the blanket under you and Felix follows suit, flicking his tongue just like Chris.

You almost fall apart at the double stimulation, more arousal gushing on your panties and you just want to be fucked, even if it's just fingers, you need someone to touch your dripping cunt.

You reach your hand towards Felix, tugging at his shirt and he leans back.

"Take it off."- you say and Felix becomes more red as he slowly takes off his shirt.

You've seen him shirtless already but in this moment of arousal it's like you're seeing him for the first time ever and the sight makes you drool.

"What about you?"- you ask Chris and he smirks.

"How about we all strip completely? I can see you're both so desperate to be touched."- he says and you nod, getting to it immediately.

"I- Can I stay in my boxers just for a little while more?"- Felix asks timidly.

"Sure."- you say and the three of you strip, Felix still in his boxers and his eyes are glued to your glistening cunt.

On the other hand, you gasp as Chris takes off his underwear, his cock springing out for the two of you to see.

"Oh... it's so big."- Felix gulps, almost mesmerized and Chris chuckles deeply.

"Yeah? Like what you see?"- he asks your boyfriend and you giggle, your hand on Felix's thigh, gently grabbing it and massaging it.

"I mean- yeah..."- Felix nods, looking at his lap again.

"Are you still feeling shy, baby?"- you ask.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I'm not as big as Chris."- he says quietly.

"That really doesn't matter, darling."- you say sincerely, your hands lifting up to cradle his face, making him look at you.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Lix. This is a safe space, okay?"- Chris says and your boyfriend nods before taking a deep breath in as he hooks his fingers in his boxers.

He slides them down and his cock springs out, the tip pink and glistening with precum, it's smaller than Chris's but chubby and you instantly find yourself yearning to touch him.

"So pretty."- you say and Felix chuckles quietly.

"You think my dick is pretty?"- he asks.

"Very."- you nod and he laughs again, his cheeks becoming profusely red.

"I agree."- Chris comes closer to Felix, his hand resting on his thigh as he squeezes it and slowly slides it up. You can see his cock twitch the closer Chris gets to it.

"Is it okay if I touch you?"- he asks and Felix looks at you.

"If it's okay, I'd like y/n to touch me first."- Felix says timidly and Chris nods understandingly.

"Ofcourse, I'm just here to help out."- he smiles sweetly and you gulp, your hand lifting up as you scoot closer to your boyfriend.

You've never touched a dick before but you weren't scared, you were just nervous, wanting to make your boyfriend feel good. Your fingers wrap around him and Felix falls apart immediately.

Chris kneels behind him, his hands around Felix, fingertips brushing his skin as he tries to help him relax.

You slowly start moving your hand, only ever seeing how to do it in porn videos and you have no idea if you're doing it right but your boyfriend seems to be enjoying. He's arching into your touch, his head resting on Chris's shoulder again, eyes shut tight as sweet moans leave his lips.

Chris's hands come up to his nipples and he starts pinching them which makes Felix moan louder, his hips fucking his cock into your hand.

You're in awe at seeing your boyfriend a mumbling mess like this and his cock looks inviting to you, you want to taste him but you don't want to rush too much in case Felix gets embarassed again.

Chris notices the way you stare at Felix's cock hungrily and he smirks, his hands sliding down and grabbing a handful of Felix's ass.

"Oh my-"- your boyfriend whimpers, hips jerking forwards.

You're beyond turned on and you lean down.

"I wanna taste you, Lixie."- you say.

"Mm, yes please... Please..."- Felix whines and gasps as he looks down at you, desperation evident in his voice.

You lean in close, your tongue darting out experimentally to lick at his tip, licking off the salty precum. You would be embarassed to admit this but you researched how to give good head because you wanted to give your boyfriend the best blowjob you could.

You wrap your lips around him and start sucking as Felix mewls and grabs at your shoulders.

"Wow, babygirl knows what she's doing."- Chris smirks behind Felix and you smirk back at him with your mouth full of your boyfriends cock.

Chris finds you so pretty like that as you keep taking more of Felix's cock in your mouth and he needs some friction, so he presses his dick on your boyfriend's asscheek, one of his hands tangling in his hair and pulling his head back.

"Fuck-" - Felix jolts, accidentally pushing his hips into your face a little and making you gag from the sudden movement.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry love!"- he apologizes instantly.

"Lixie, it's okay, I don't mind."- you slide off of him to reassure him that he did nothing wrong.

"Relax, baby."- Chris whispers into Felix's ear, gripping his hair and kissing his neck as you take him in your mouth again.

Felix keeps whimpering and mumbling both of your names, falling apart between the two of you. Chris gently ruts against your boyfriend as you almost swallow him whole, quickly adjusting your mouth to his length and girth. You speed up, wetting his cock with your spit as Chris sucks a love bite into his skin.

"So much..."- Felix whines.

"Is it too much babyboy?"- Chris asks.

"Mhm."- Felix mutters.

"You love being sandwiched like this, don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do!"- Felix whines as Chris's hand curls around him to play with his balls. He jolts again and you take it sucking on him harder and Felix looks down at you and almost busts right then and there.

The sight of his sweet, beautiful girlfriend in a position like that with mouth full of his cock drives him insane.

"P-please... I'm close, I can't hold it in."- Felix whimpers, his hand gentle on your head as he tries to make you stop.

You moan around him as you keep going, your hands gripping at his thighs and Chris starts pinching Felix's nipples fast and hard and Felix can't hold himself together anymore. His moans get louder and louder, his hips timidly fucking into you, afraid that if he goes faster he might hurt you.

"Let go, baby."- Chris coos at him as he keeps playing with him and Felix shakes as his cock twitches, his cum shooting into your mouth and you swallow everything he gives you, savoring his taste and milking him dry as he whimpers, eyes teary and face red.

"Good boy."- Chris smirks and Felix shivers as you finally release him and sit back, licking your lips.

"Both of you did so well. How about you return the favor, Lix?"- Chris asks and you bite your lip.

"I want to!"- Felix nods eagerly.

"Lay down, sweetheart."- Chris coos at you, seeing how turned on you are from everything, aching to be touched, your eyes glassy and desperate.

You oblige, your legs falling open immediately and Felix moans just at the sight of your sweet cunt.

"Mm, please, wanna taste."- he whines as he leans in closer. "But I don't know what to do."- he adds, embarassed again.

"Do what feels natural to you. Kiss, lick, suck. I'll be here to guide you if you need it."- Chris tells him. "And y/n will tell you what she likes, right?"- he looks at you and you nod, anticipation making goosebumps rise on your skin.

Felix leans in, he's not that clueless, he knows what a clit is and how good it feels to touch, well at least from what he saw in porn so he tries, his tongue giving you little kitten licks.

Your legs jolt as he presses it into your clit and watches your reaction.

Chris lays on his side next to you, his hand running on your inner thigh as he leans in and kisses your collarbone and breast.

Felix is getting drunk on the taste of you, how you're getting more wet just from his tongue playing with your clit and he gently pulls open your folds before he pushes his tongue in, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. He loved you on your knees and sucking him in but he knows he loves this even more. Being between your legs, his tongue buried inside you as you look down at him, your body shivering, pretty moans coming out of your lips.

Chris's hand is on your breast, kneading and playing with your nipple, his other hand in Felix's hair as he pushes his head into you.

Felix moans into your cunt as Chris holds him down and your legs shake as Felix fucks you desperately with his tongue, lapping at you like your pussy is the tastiest treat he ever had.

You moan loudly, losing yourself in the pleasure, already close to the edge as your hands grip at the blanket below you.

Felix ruts his semi hard cock on the sheets below almost unconsciously and Chris thinks he looks so cute when he's desperate like that.

Chris leans in and starts sucking on your breast, his hand playing with the other one, his focus now on you, wanting to help bring you closer to your sweet release.

You're shaking under them, the stimulation is so much stronger than when you played with yourself and you can't take anymore, fireworks exploding inside you before you cum, your sweet juices covering Felix's tongue and lips.

He whines and laps at you, savoring your taste as his eyes close.

"Did so well, baby."- Chris praises you and leans in to kiss you as your boyfriend still makes out with your wet pussy. You're sensitive and your legs close around Felix's head making him groan into you.

"T-too much."- you whimper and Felix leans back, the look on his face completely fucked out as he stares at you. You know you probably look the same, your legs still slightly shivering from your orgasm.

Both you and Chris can see that Felix is fully hard again, but you turn to Chris, your hand finding his.

"Can we do something for you before we go further?"- you ask and Felix nods.

"Yeah, we wanna make you feel good too."- he licks his lips.

"Don't worry about me. This is about the two of you."- Chris waves his hand but you can see that he's painfully hard.

You sit up and push him down so his back leans on the headboard of the bed.

"Let us make you feel good."- you say, hands on his thighs as you lean down and start kissing his cock.

Chris grunts lowly at your cute innocent face as you wrap your lips around the head. Felix comes up next to you and Chris spreads his legs more to give you both more space. Felix gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail, helping you as you slowly take more of Chris in your mouth, his cock too big for you but you're determined to try your best.

It's the least you can do when he indulged the two of you and accepted to help you in an intimate situation like this. You bob your head up and down, your hand working the rest of his cock and Felix watches closely as he holds your hair, drooling at the thought of tasting Chris's cock after you've sucked on it.

"Please, let me."- he begs and Chris chuckles at his eagerness as you pop off of him.

Felix wastes no time, engulfing him as much as he could, making himself gag immediately.

"Slow down, baby."- you chuckle and Felix whines around Chris, the vibrations making him shiver.

Tears gather in his eyes as Felix sucks on Chris fast, taking more and more in, his spit mixed with yours making everything slippery.

You don't think you've ever seen anything as hot as your pretty innocent boyfriend doing such dirty things, his eyes rolling back every time Chris's cock hits the back of his throat.

"Fuck- I won't last long!"- Chris moans, his thighs flexing under Felix's hands.

You're the one holding your boyfriend's hair now and a wicked thought runs through your mind as Chris's hips jerk up. You grip Felix's hair and push him down more making him gag and squirm as Chris explodes with a loud moan, shooting his cum into your boyfriend's mouth.

Felix gags but swallows as he has no choice but to do that, you're still holding him down and you notice how he ruts into the bed, obviously turned on by your ministrations.

You let him lift off only when he's done milking Chris's cock and then you grab his face making him gasp as you crash your lips into his.

Chris breathes hard, watching the two of you make out messily, the taste of him pouring into your mouth from Felix's lips.

"Lixie, I want you."- you mumble against his lips, your hand wrapping around his cock.

"Mm, I want you too love."- he moans.

He looks at Chris who's coming to his senses and Chris chuckles.

"W-will you help me out a little?"- your boyfriend asks timidly and you giggle as Chris nods and sits up.

You lay down against the pillows, your hands on the back of your thighs as you lift up and open your legs so your cunt is on full display.

Felix groans watching it clench around nothing.

"She feels empty, don't you baby?"- Chris asks and you nod fervently. His finger is on your clit as he slowly circles it and you moan pushing up into him.

"You have to prep her first."- he tells Felix and he nods, his fingertips on your folds as Chris keeps massaging your clit.

"P-please..."- you whine and Felix sinks two of his fingers slowly inside you, careful to be gentle as he grabs your breast and massages it.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as the two men play with your pussy, Felix pushing in as deep as he can and moving slowly as Chris helps guide his wrist while he plays with your clit, flicking it and pinching it.

You're moaning loudly, letting go of everything as your slick drips down onto their hands and the sheets beneath you, making a mess. You've never been this wet or turned on and you start moving your hips up into their touch and Felix speeds up, fucking your pussy open for his cock.

"Oh my god, ah!"- you practically scream as you explode, squirting on their hands as Felix pulls his fingers out and gasps.

"Oh..."- you chuckle embarassingly at the sight, trying to catch your breath.

"That was so hot."- Felix whines, licking off his fingers. Before you or Chris can react he grabs Chris's wrist and puts his lips around two of his fingers, sucking on them and looking at Chris hazily.

"Lix loves his mouth stuffed, hm?"- Chris smirks as you lift up on your elbows and look at them.

Felix moans around his fingers before he pops off, tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

He turns to you and Chris kneels behind him as you grab your boyfriend's hands and bring him closer to you.

"Fuck me, Lixie, please! I can't wait anymore!"- you whimper.

Felix groans as Chris gently pushes him closer to you. He reaches around your boyfriend's body and gently grabs his cock. Felix mewls as he melts between both of you and Chris pushes him down, massaging your wet pussy with Felix's cock.

"Mm feels so good..."- he whines and Chris smirks, his cock is getting hard again and he can't help himself as it slides between Felix's asscheeks.

Felix gasps and almost jolts away but Chris holds him.

"It's okay, I won't do anything you don't want, Lix."- Chris reassures him and Felix nods.

"Is this okay?"- he asks as his cock slides against him.

"Mmm it's good, so good!"- Felix whines as his tip catches on your folds.

"Put it in, Lixie, give me your cock!"- you whine, impatient and craving to be stuffed full of your boyfriend's cute chubby cock.

He moans and slowly pushes in, Chris holding his hips and rutting into him slowly.

You groan at the stretch, your little cunt opening up to take him fully. Felix lets out a deep growl as he bottoms out, hands gripping at your body. Your hands end up around his shoulders and you look into his eyes.

"Move, baby."- you moan and Felix starts fucking you slowly to let you adjust, Chris following his pace and rutting into his ass.

You fall into a rhythm, the three of you rocking together, moaning and praising each other, hands grabbing everywhere.

"Feels good babygirl?"- Chris asks you and you moan in response.

"See, she's going a little dumb on your cock, Lix."- Chris smirks.

"Mm fuck..."- Felix whines. "So warm and tight."- he keeps whimpering as he pushes his cock into you as deep as he can.

Chris is close as he rubs against Felix, his hand coming around to play with your clit once again as Felix fucks into you harder. You see stars as your eyes shut tightly, head falling back.

Felix is a mumbling mess, hips jerking harshly as he drools and Chris speeds up, jerking his cock so his head is massaging Felix's hole.

"Ah, ah, ah!"- Felix moans constantly, stimulated on both ends and Chris chuckles darkly, his head pushing against his tight hole, teasing his entrance.

"You want me to stretch your tight ass while you fuck your girlfriend's sweet pussy, hm?"- Chris growls into his ear as he pulls his head back harshly.

"Mm, fuck yes, daddy!"- Felix whimpers loudly and then freezes when he realizes what he said. Your eyes snap open and Felix panicks.

"I'm sorry, I-I don't know why I said that."- his lips tremble, eyes watering.

"Hey, hey, don't cry."- Chris soothes him. "You can call me whatever you want, it's completely fine and I don't mind."

Felix looks at you and you bite on your lip, your eyes hazy as you were close to your release.

"It was hot, love. I don't mind either."- you say and Felix melts, hips moving slowly into yours again.

It doesn't take long for the three of you to get back into your rhythm and your orgasm builds up once more, as does Chris's. You cum first, exploding all over Felix's cock, clenching around him as Chris spills his seed on your boyfriend's ass and the back of his thighs. Your pussy holding onto his cock and Chris's cum painting him makes him lose his mind and he pulls out, jerking his cock and exploding all over your stomach and pulsating cunt.

The three of you have to take a few moments to calm down and clean up, Chris helping you change the sheets you made a mess off.

As you and Felix get ready to cuddle up, you notice Chris picking up his clothes.

"Where are you going?"- you ask, lifting your head up.

"Well, I helped you out. I mean, I don't want to overstay my welcome. I'm sure the two of you would like some time alone now."- he says, scratching the back of his neck shyly, his demeanor completely different than moments before.

"Stay with us."- Felix says, and Chris's eyes soften.

"Yeah, come here."- you beckon him with your finger and he chuckles, coming closer to the bed and getting comfortable behind Felix, who was curled up in you, his arm and leg wrapped around you.

You press a gentle kiss on your boyfriend's forehead as he mumbles, already half asleep.

"I love you both..."- he mutters into your neck.

You and Chris lock eyes and smile at each other.

"We love you too."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @bookobsessedfreak

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 5 months ago

Text

A Wolf in the Dragon's Den

Pairing: Aemond x Stark reader

Summary: The Greens have won The Dance of Dragons, and your family has offered your hand to Prince Aemond as a means of forgiveness for your part in the war. But what shall happen when a wolf meets a dragon in its den?

Warnings: SMUT, mdni 18+, p in v, kind of mean Aemond? but he gets better lol, Aegon being Aegon, use of pet names like Little Wolf or My Dragon, fingering, soft to rough sex, uhhh language for sure haha if I missed anything let me know y'all!! It's also not proof read so forgive any mistakes haha

AN: Well ... sorry this took me so long y'all! I guess my summer classes caught up to me a bit but that's ok cause after long last here it is!! A good old-fashioned Aemond x Stark reader fic. I hope you guys enjoy haha, I'm working on a request next, but let me know if there's anything else y'all wanna see! :)

King’s Landing was a hot, humid, fish-smelling shit hole. The warm temperatures were much too hot for your usual furs, heavy cloaks, and skirts. Even your horses were succumbing to the heat, panting more than usual, the poor things. You could have rode in the carriage, along with your mother and younger siblings. But you preferred horseback, the wind in your hair, and the breeze on your skin. Although, the air here was salty and thick.

Your father and brother, Cregan, rode beside you. “Hells, could it be any hotter,” your father murmured under his breath, sweat beading on his brow.

“Those vapid Targaryen’s couldn’t bear it any other way, something about the ‘dragon’s blood–”

“Careful brother, they could have your head for that–” You chuckled a bit, but you all knew there was truth to the statement. The Dance of Dragons had proved as much, the Greens' force and display of violence was wide and plentiful. “Rash and brash” as your father had put it once. Especially that of your betrothed, Prince Aemond One-eye Targaryen. Or “the one-eyed cunt” as many northerners took to calling him. The betrothal, much to your dismay, had been arranged by your father, in a weak attempt to repair your house's relationship with the monarch.

“Hmph, well if I had my way we wouldn’t even be here at all. Those ‘dragons’ wouldn’t survive a damn minute in the North. Their blood would freeze, and then maybe we’d all be rid of their problems.” Cregan said the word “dragons” with a mocking tone, a scoff in his voice.

“That’s enough, your sister is right boy, they would have your head for that. Or perhaps feed you to one of their dragon’s” And with that, your father put an end to that potentially treasonous conversation. Cregan however, had muttered something under his breath about “told you to stop calling me boy”.

Having had enough of the bickering, you tapped the sides of your horse, trotting ahead by several paces. Your dire wolf, Snowcap, had evidently decided to part temporarily from the group, to hunt or to shade herself you didn’t know. But you couldn’t blame her either way, the journey from the Winterfell to King’s Landing was a long one, and not a particularly comfortable one.

The gates to the Red Keep came into site ahead of you, the streets leading up to it peppered with Gold Cloaks and guards. The people of King’s Landing pay little mind to your small party, too busy with their buying and selling. You had chosen to travel light, there were no copious amounts of banners flying, or any regalia at all really. You would be surrounded by plenty of that kind of thing soon enough.

To say that your greeting was lackluster, would be an understatement. Ser Criston Cole stood beside the Dowager Queen Alicent atop the Red Keep’s stairs. Besides another dozen or so Gold Cloaks, that was what there was. Cregan scoffs in annoyance from beside you, he must have caught up to you somewhere along the way.

“He cannot even come to meet his bride-to-be, what a disrespect, pathetic,” You made a bit of a noise beside him, urging him to keep his mouth shut. You were in the dragon’s den now, who knows who could be listening in? Another glance around the unfamiliar faces does confirm your brother’s statement. Your betrothed was nowhere to be found. Even the training yard remained empty, and from what you’d heard, Prince Aemond could often be found there.

As you dismount your horse, Queen Alicent begins to make her way down the steps, towards you and the rest of your family. Your father and eldest brother move to stand to your left and right. Your mother and younger siblings finally join you, to your left. Your mother gives you a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moves to stand beside your father. You curtsey as the Queen approaches, she takes your hand in hers. Her palms are soft and warm, gentleness radiates from her person.

“My Lady Stark, how nice it is to finally see you arrive. I hope the journey south wasn’t too unpleasant” She gives you a small smile, not as lovely as your mother’s, but kind nonetheless.

“It was alright, long, very long, but alright,” You say, matching her smile. Queen Alicent releases your hand and carries on to greet the rest of your family, Ser Criston following closely behind her. Still no sign of your betrothed, nor his elder brother, the King. Although you supposed he must be occupied with his duties on the Small Council. You know you will hear an earful from your brother later on the matter. Had Creagn been born a Lady, he would indeed circulate most of the gossip around Court.

— — — — —

The Red Keep was massive in comparison to your expectations of its size. The halls appear more like an intricate intertwining of mazes rather than passageways. Your footsteps echo and reverberate off of the stones. Tapestries depicting great moments in Targaryen history line the walls. Lit torches line the halls, the windows, and the arches looking out onto bustling the city below. Servants, guards, and other nobles wondered about, gossiping, rushing to and fro. Ladies, lords, and servants alike whispered to one another as you and your family walked by, being led by Ser Cristin and the Queen.

It was no secret that your brother had sent Northeners and Graybeards to fight in Rhaenyra’s name. “Fight like Northerners they will,” your brother had said once. And they did indeed, the bitter cold and long winters having hardened them into mighty soldiers and fighters. Barbarians, some called them. Your father had handed over the duties of Winterfell to Cregan as he grew older. Your father had hardly left the North in all his years of life, but he had become confused and temperamental in his older age. It had ultimately been Cregan’s choice to join the Blacks, a decision he is now trying to repair. Or it would be more accurate to say you were trying to repair. Since you were a wolf being offered up to the dragons for slaughter. Perhaps the only reason that the Greens hadn’t burned down Winterfell, and your family around with it, is because they know the importance of your family to Westeros. And if the North falls, we all fall, and no one knew the North better than the Starks.

As you continue on your walk through the winding halls of the Red Keep, you finally come to stand before a set of doors. Modest in comparison to some of the others you’ve passed by. Metal filigree winds its way up from the handles like vines, the rest of the door was rather lackluster. Ser Cristin steps forward, dutifully opening the doors for your party.

There in the middle of the small council room, stood your betrothed. After long last you finally laid eyes on your betrothed. Aemond stood proud and tall, his long silver hair pulled back into one thick braid, tied together at the bottom with a strip of black leather. His back was turned towards you, hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be his riding gear, perhaps he had just come back from a flight with Vhagar.

“Aemond, there you are. You missed the arrival of your betrothed,” Alicent chided her son, who could not be less interested in the conversation at hand.

“Mhm,” He hummed, “I was–” He paused thinking, “ –busy”. From beside you, you can hear Cregan scoff a bit. Your mother puts a warning hand against his back, he was never one for formalities. But then again, most Northerners weren’t. The Prince finally turned towards your party. The famous leather eye patch covering the sapphire in his socket. The faint pink lines of his scar peeked out on either end of the patch. He’s beautiful, you think, in a macabre sort of way, but beautiful nonetheless. He looked ethereal standing there, backlight from the evening sun shining through the windows.

His lavender eye rakes itself over your form, as your mother pushes you forward a bit, to better meet his gaze. He lets out another hum, of approval, or disapproval, you cannot tell. A cord of annoyance strikes through you, not having the wherewithal to be subjected to such petty scrutiny.

Alicent places a guiding hand on your waist, walking you forward, closer to the One-eyed Prince. You curtsey once you reach him, the lessons your mother taught you as a girl kicking in and taking over.

“I did not know you Northerners were capable of such manners,” Aemond scoffed as he said this as if he was telling a bad joke. Your teeth grind together, hands clenching into fists in your skirts. Behind you you can hear the scuffle of footsteps, and then a halt. Presumably, your brother acting out again, or perhaps your father this time. Typically, your family wouldn’t care much about appearances, but you were all treading on thin ice, and you knew it.

Rising back up to your full height, which annoyingly still made you have to look up at him, you say: “We are rather steeped in our traditions in the North my Prince. We value honor decency, and the truth of one's word,” You glare at him through your lashes as you say this last bit. If it were not for the threat upon your entire house and bannermen then you would not be here, wolves were not creatures made to bow, even in the face of a dragon.

Surprisingly, Aemond lets out a hardy laugh. You chance a glance over at his mother, she looks to be just as stunned as the rest of you. Silence befalls the room.

“Smart mouth you have, huh, my Lady Stark?” He chuckles some more, then leans closer, intending his next words to only be for you. “Watch your tongue in my court, or I shall have it served to you on a platter at our wedding feast,” and with that, he straightens, and walks away. Yelling something over his shoulder about the training yard, and Ser Cole come with.

“I–” Alicent begins to say, but you cut her off, rather impolitely, “ It’s quite alright Your Grace,” You offer her a smile. You liked Alicent, the poor woman had been through enough as it is, and the arrogance of her son wasn’t any help. “I am just pleased to finally have arrived here at court, and to settle in at my new home,” It was most certainly a half-truth, but there was no need to make tensions rise any higher.

— — — — —

The following next few days were spent quite the same. Your little party with the guidance of Alicent took tours of the Red Keep as well as its many gardens and docks. One afternoon Alicent and Queen Helaena accompanied your mother and yourself down to one of the traveling markets of King’s Landing. It was rather grand, merchants coming from all across Westeros to sell their wares. Helaena had shown you a favorite merchant of hers, a man who made intricate gold and silver jewelry in the shapes of little bugs and small creatures. You had purchased a ring depicting the head of a dire wolf.

Aemond had remained illusive, he only graced everyone with his presence at meals. Choosing to sit far away from you, his brother, the King, talking about who knows what was next to him, but all the while his lavender eye remained fixed on you. It made you squirm a bit, being under his heavy gaze. Overthinking how you raised your fork to your lips, or where you held your cup of wine, on the stem or the rim as you’d always done.

With your wedding on the morrow, your nerves became more frayed than usual. Your mind is plagued with silly thoughts like: Will he think I’m pretty? Will he learn to love me? But as soon as those thoughts enter they are replaced with others such as: Why should I care? He’s been nothing but unpleasant and rude. But the younger, little girl in you still hopes to have a fruitful marriage, one filled with respect and love. Much like that of your mother and father’s. Although you know now that that is an anomaly in this world.

Your night is filled with restless sleep. Your body follows a pattern of waking for an hour and then sleeping for another. The heat of King’s Landing did not aid in this, the covers bunched down by your feet as you tossed and turned. Shortly after the sun had risen, maids had burst into your room, wedding gown in hand. You spent the next couple of hours being dotted upon like the princess you were about to become.

It wasn’t a large service by any means, not that you minded. Something smaller and more intimate was more to your liking. Your father walked you up the long aisle to meet your soon-to-be husband. Aemond stood at the altar in the sept, his house cloak in his hands to drape around your shoulders. The closer you got to him the more you could see his eye attempt to devour your appearance. Surprisingly, he gently held your small hands in his. His fingers and palms were calloused from many hours of training with a sword, and flights upon Vhagar. He was a handsome man you thought, too bad his arrogance made him ugly. Perhaps a bit naively you thought, I can change that. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. Your mind already trying to fix something potentially broken.

Aemond’s lips touched yours, forever sealing your vows to one another. Unlike his hands, they were smooth and soft, and uncharacteristically gentle. He was a good kisser you think, but then again the only other boy you’d kissed was a farm hand back at Winterfell when you were much younger.

Aemond thought you were beautiful, the moment he laid eyes upon his Little Wolf he thought perhaps this union will not be one of suffering and strife. At least she will be pretty to fuck. As his lips touched yours in the sept in front of the Gods, he tasted honey and black tea. You smell like vanilla, spices, and what Aemond assumed fire to smell like. His hand came to fist in your hair, possessively anchoring you to him.

When you part you suck in a breath of air, cheeks red. Such a sultry kiss in front of your family and the Gods caused a rush of embarrassment to course through you. Aemond however, gave you a wicked smirk in response to the color in your cheeks. Still clutching your hand tightly in his, he guides his new bride down and out of the sept, to return to the Red Keep for the evening's festivities.

— — — — —

The great hall was filled with the aroma of cooked meats, potatoes, wine, and the heavy laughter of your party guests. Your mother and father sat with you and your new family at the head table, looking down slightly upon the rest of the partygoers. Where the ceremony may have been smaller, the feast after it was not. Several more houses and bannermen of your brother’s came to celebrate the historic union. Boltons, Lannisters, Freys, Greyjoys, Hightowers, and the like filled the hall. You chose to remain seated beside your new husband, the ever-dutiful wife. You knew and had seen many times how rowdy Northmen could become at such a venue. You preferred to keep your distance, although it was not unusual to find you dancing with your younger siblings back home at Winterfell.

By the looks of it, your brother had loosened up a bit, a tanker of ale clutched in one hand.

The king had joined him and the others closer in age for what looked to be some kind of drinking game. Meanwhile, Aemond’s hand absent-mindedly made its home on your thigh, stroking up and down. The gesture was a stark contrast to his previous words and actions.

“You have barely eaten wife,” He noted as he glanced at you, “You must be well full and ready for what I have planned for you.” The same small smirk crosses his lips once again. Leaving you with a funny feeling in your stomach. But you can’t help the small wave of heat that strikes your core. Your mother once told you that men can become rather possessive of their women, and it can be quite cumbersome most of the time. Restricting one's freedom, constantly wanting you in their presence, she had said to expect this with someone like Aemond. But she mentioned that sometimes, in the confines of your marital chambers, it can be very — riveting to lay with such a man. It wasn’t until now that you began to understand what she had meant.

“I am afraid I have no appetite, my lord husband. My nerves do not allow me to eat it seems,” Aemond’s gaze darkened at the use of the word “husband”. Prince Aemond was not a man who did anything halfway, if he were to do anything, it was to be done fully without exception. A wave of dark possession seeps into his gut. He had already claimed a dragon but now he wishes to claim a wolf too.

From across the hall, his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by his brother's drunken yelling.

“ – the bedding ceremony! Come now little brother it is time for the bedding ceremony,” Aemond’s fists clenched, the hand on your skirts bunching in the fabric. “Will you fuck her like a hound brother? Woof Woof hahaha,” The hall had fallen eerily silent. Aemond’s chair clatters to the ground from the force of his standing. From beside Aegon, you see your brother place his cup of ale on the table, hand reaching for his sword. Your father is already a step ahead of him, hand on the hilt of his dagger. Your mother goes to stand in front of your younger siblings, shielding them. If you had no appetite before you certainly don’t have one now, your hands had gone cold and clammy, your head feeling light at the insults thrown your way. From beside you, Alicent stands, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“That is enough Aegon,” She begins to say.

“Oh come now Mother it was only a jest. Can I not be proud of my little brother?” Alicent opens her mouth to respond but Aemond beats her to it.

“You can take your ‘jests’ down to your whores on the Steer of Silk but you will not speak in such a way in front of my wife, let alone her family.” His voice is dangerously calm, ready to snap, and bubble over into pure rage at any given moment.

“Always so uptight little brother, as if someone has shoved a stick up your ass–” It is your turn to stand now, the feet of your chair scrapping the stone floor beneath you.

“I am quite tired, husband will you escort me back to our chambers?” You look at Aemond, a stern, silent plea evident on your features.

“Certainly wife,” He responds with the same tantalizing calmness. Offering you his hand, which you take, grasping on tighter than perhaps necessary, you both make your way out of the great hall. Leaving the mess that is Aegon behind for someone else to clean up. It was your wedding day after all and you needn’t worry yourself with such matters.

The walk to your marital chambers is quiet and tense. Your hand still firmly grasping Aemond’s, although he now squeezes yours back. The heels of your shoes echo off of the palace walls in an attempt to keep up with Aemond’s long strides. After an eternity of uncertainty at what was to come next, you reach Aemond’s, and now your, chambers. The room is large and furnished quite cozily. A large four-poster bed makes its home in the center back wall of the room. A table of what looks like chess pieces and a map sits by the open windows.

Aemond however reaches for the pitcher of wine on another small side table, pouring a cup for himself and downing it in one go. He pours a second, and a third for you. He offers it to you, you shake your head, afraid you cannot stomach the drink after what had just happened.

“I am sorry–” You break the silence. Aemond raises a hand to silence you.

“It is I who should apologize. My brother is a foul and evil creature who feeds off of the discomfort of others. But never had he dared to do so so boldly before,” He pauses, taking a sip of wine. “I have been absent since you arrived at the Keep and I believe I owe you an explanation,”

You cross your arms over your chest, the air coming in from the harbor seeming chilly now. “Yes I do believe you do,” you say.

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at your sass, a small smile spreading across his lips. “They told me women of the North have sharp tongues and poor manners,” You scoff, his smile widens, “but I must say I’m rather enjoying that thus far.” He moves toward you, one hand still holding his cup of wine, the other reaching up to cup your chin, turning your face to meet his eye.

“I must admit that when I learned that your treacherous brother’s offered your hand to me I was quite – unnerved. I had no desire to marry, let alone marry a traitor,” A cord of anger courses through you, and Aemond notices this. He sets his cup down on the table next to you, the one with the chess pieces. Your eyes follow the movement, better taking in the contents of the table, a war game perhaps, you think.

“I didn’t want to be chained to a dull, meek little pup for the rest of my life,” His now free hand comes to rest on your hip, and his thumb and forefinger move from your chin, to trace the shape of your lips, then your jaw, and down the column of your neck. “But I must say, that you have certainly exceeded my expectations. I shall enjoy breeding you,” His alkaline nose moves to smell your hair, and you inhale a sharp gasp at the vulgarity of his words. You feel him smile into your neck as he continues his ministrations, placing the whisper of a kiss here and there.

“I do not understand you. You show me kindness, even apologizing for the acts of your brother, but then you insult me and my heritage. What is it that you want from me, Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You question him, hoping your voice comes out as steady as you command it. Aemond pulls back laughing, both hands now finding purchase on your hips, he begins to guide you backward towards the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wooden frame.

“Perhaps I wish to see how far I can push you Little Wolf. I enjoy your banter and wish to hear more of it. It pleases me that I’ve been matched to a woman who is not afraid to speak to me in such a way. People so quickly cower and whisper when I am near, it is refreshing to be met head-on.” His blunt statement surprises you, you had not expected such a confession from the Prince.

“Perhaps–” You pause, choosing your next words carefully, “ – perhaps then we can learn to love one another in this marriage.” You almost whisper the last bit, uncertainty in your voice.

“Yes, I think perhaps we can,” Aemond whispers back to you, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. The tension in the air is palpable, maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move. To see how far he could push you as he had said a moment ago. Deciding to test this hypothesis you stand on your tiptoes, slotting your lips against his, just as you did in the sept. A hungry growl leaves Aemond’s throat using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you back with ferocity.

A hand grapes your throat, guiding you down towards the bed, your back hitting the feather mattress. You gasp against Aemond’s lips, swallowing the sound, he continues his assault. His hand against your throat tightened, although not unpleasantly, heat rushing to your core. His lips begin to retrace their path down your jaw and the column of your neck, biting and sucking red marks in their wake.

“Aemond– someone will see–” He parts from you only for a second, looking into your eyes.

“Let them, after all, isn’t that what my imputant brother wanted proof of our coupling? Perhaps it will give him something to pleasure himself to–” The thought makes Aemond’s cock harden impossibly more in his trousers. The fact that he could pleasure his wife to a level that his brother could only imagine, was nearly enough to drive him over the edge.

“Husband that is not reason enough to leave –” You're interrupted by a particularly sharp bite to the collarbone. A moan of pain and pleasure escapes past your lips, spurring your new husband onwards. With a sharp tug, Aemond pulls the bodice of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. He murmurs a simple “beautiful” under his breath before latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at the flesh. Your back arches slightly in response, desperate to bring yourself closer to his touch.

As he continues his ministrations he begins to unlace the remainders of your gown, shimmying them down your body, to pool at his feet. You feel his calloused hands roam up and down your body. Sketching your shape into his memory. His fingers knead the flesh of your breasts, your thighs, your ass. Finally, he swipes his fingers between your folds, you emit a soft whine at the contact.

He raises an eyebrow, “I’ve barely even touched you yet Little Wolf, and you're already soaking my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock–” He trails off, mesmerized as he begins to pump two fingers in and out of your core. Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet at his words. Your hands find purchase in the sheets of your new bed.

“Oh– oh Aemond –” You whisper in between breaths.

“Say it again, say my name again,” It’s almost a plea, begging to hear it again.

“Husband– Aemond– My Dragon –” Aemond harshly withdraws his fingers from you. You nearly scream at the loss of the delicious contact. Discarding the remainder of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side, Aemond grabs you by the ankles pulling you down towards the end of the bed where he stands. You catch site of his cock as he gives it a few tugs in preparation. The tip angry and red, glazed in his arousal for you. Your eyes widen a bit, your mother never prepared you for what might happen should your lord husband be too – big.

Aemond sees your moment of concern, he positions himself over you, cock aligned at your entrance. His hand carresses your cheek, as he says “I shall be gentle, if you ask me to.Give you time to adjust –”

“No,” Your answer surprises the both of you. “I want you, I am not some small flower, I can take what you give me. I want whatever you shall give me Husband.” You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, as if to reassure him that what you say is true.

“Seven fucking Hells, you are something did you know that?” He rests his forehead agaisnt yours, as he ever so slowly begins to sheath himself inside of you.

You let out a small giggle, whispering back “I know–”

Aemond bottoms out inside of you, his cock fully enclosed by the walls of your cunt. He could die like this, he thinks. Cock sheathed in the cunt of his gorgeous Little Wolf. Your walls squeeze him perfectly, he needs to take a moment to catch his breath. He had fucked women before, whores in the Street of Silk. His brother having dragged him there once, and to seek some kind of perverted comfort there during The Dance. But none of them compared to this moment, none of them –

“Husband, Gods move please,” Aemond is brought out of his thoughts by your pleas, you voice hoarse with want and need.

“With pleasure Little Wolf.” He begins to thrust, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace. It’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. He’s afraid that should he move to fast he won’t be able to carry on for very long. Beneath him your hands clutch the sheets of his bed, your cheeks are flushed the most lovely red, your hair played out in a halo around you on the pillow. If he could burn the image into his mind forever, then he certainly would.

Aemond’s cock stretches you out perfectly, boardering on pain and pleasure, but only for the first moments. His thrusts are steady and calculated, but never the less delicious. The movement causes friction on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to your core. It’s lovely, you think, but you want more. Moving from their place in the sheets, your hands settle on his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Aemond– more,” His lilac eye flits up to your face, asking for silent reassurance that that is indeed what you want. “For Gods sake Husband, move faster please I–” Not needing to be told twice, Aemond picks up speed. Where his thrusts were slow and sensual, now they are fast and hard. He fucks you like a man starved, as if he was told this is the last woman he will ever lay with. Which in his case, was true, since you were married after all.

Your tits bounce at the force of his movement, your hands that were previously on his hips, begin to rake down his back. Your legs come up to circle his waist, drawing him impossibly closer.

“You like this then, huh, Little Wolf. Treated like my own personal whore, to fuck how I please?” The sounds that fill the room are egregious, skin against skin, moans, whimpers, and screams.

“Louder Little Wolf, howl for me, let the whole Keep hear how I pleasure you so,” Perhaps that same small part of him wanted his brother to hear. As if Aemond had something to prove to him, that he made a better husband, a better lover than Aegon ever will.

“Aemond, Aemond, oh Aemond–” You chant his name like a mantra. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, you gasp eyes widening at the feeling.

“Seems I’ve found where you feel pleasure best. Is that right Little Wolf?”

“Yes, Gods Aemond, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna –” Hearing that was all the motivation he needed to pick up his pace even more. To fuck you even harder than before. He grips your hips pulling you closer to him at the end of the bed, from this angle he has full control over your body, and can fuck you as you so desire him to.

The force of his thrusts, and the friction against your clit cause you to see stars behind your eyes. With one last scream of his name, you cum around his cock. Your walls pulling him in, attempting to root him to you. Aemond however, does not let up, chasing afer his own release.

“Just a moment more, my sweet, perfect Little Wolf. I’m going to breed you, and watch you swell with my pups. Wouldn’t you love that huh?” Aemond continues to piston in and out of you, the feeling almost too much, but still just as lovely as before. Nonsensical moans leave your lips, and Aemond laughs at you babbling, although not rudely.

His hips begin to stutter as he nears his end, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” He mutters under his breath as you feel his seed coat your walls. The feeling warm, and full and lovely. Aemond remains seated inside of you as he rests his forehead once more to yours. You kiss his nose again, a new favorite spor perhaps. He offers you a small smile in return.

You both groan as he pulls out. Your cunt perfectly overstimulated and happy. Wordlessly Aemond leaves the bed, and begins to rummage around some drawers in one of the many pieces of furniture in the room. You worry for a brief moment that he will leave, and that he meant none of what he said. But as he brings a damp cloth between your thighs to clean you, your worries wash away. He tosses the rag aside, to be dealt with on the morrow. For now, all he wanted was to lay with his wife in his arms as he drifts off to sleep.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you move to covers to lie beneath them. Aemond pulls you to him, tucking the top of your head under his chin, he kisses your hair. You both think that perhaps this marriage will be fruitful, that over time you will learn to love one another. It seems as if you both are on a lovely start for that though as is.

“Good night ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved),” Aemond mutters into your hair.

“Sleep well, My Dragon,” you say in response. You both drift off into a peaceful sleep, held comfortably in each other's arms. No one knew what the morrow would bring, let alone a fortnight from now. But you both knew you would see it through together as equals, husband and wife, dragon and wolf.

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wrr000 · 3 months ago

Text

"Small gestures"

The Destined One x reader - headcanons about communication +really short oneshot at the end

Notes: it's basically @szynkaaa idea!!!!!!!!!!!! go and check their blog NOW!!!!!!!!!!! i'm currently working on another headcanons with the destined one and more serious oneshot, hope y'all will enjoy this

Warnings: fluff, kinda fanon the destined one? english is not my first language so i will prob make some changes later! i also exaggerated the situation in oneshot for the fluff, forgive me

travelling with silent destined one was difficult, but soon you realized that sometimes gestures can express more than words

at first it was hard to communicate, this barrier seemed insurmountable to you

but you quickly noticed that he wasn't trying to push you away or left you behind because of it, no - he tired to show you with small gestures that he actually cared

it started with slowing down a little so you could catch up or glancing at you to make sure you were still walking next to him

gently poking you with his hand or tugging your clothes to get your attention

stretching his arm to prevent you from walking further and signaling you to hide behind him. he always made the same gesture then

finding you a safe spot to hide when he knew a tough fight was coming

when an enemy apeared unexpectedly and you were in the middle of the fight, he bought you some time to escape somewhere safe

grabbing you by forearm to make sure you didn't get hurt (you have to tell him several times that you're fine, boy is worried)

all these little things made you understand him more and at some point you learned how to read his body language, gestures and face expressions; scratching his ear when impatient or confused, characteristically touching his nose when he's thinking and all those kind of things

you just knew what he wanted to say (but couldn't)

during this time, you didn't even notice how much you were getting closer and how much you cared for each other

he never made you feel like a burden and you always tried to help him as much as you can

you could talk to him about anything and he would listen to you carefully, making sure you feel comfortable

the destined one never would have thought that he would meet someone like you(and fall in love) during his journey

of course it isn't a flawless relationship because it's still a cheeky monkey that cannot stand 5 seconds without getting into a fight, but it's a story for another time

---

Leaving that cursed land of rats was something you had been waiting for a long time. Almost from the moment you arrived there. Sandstorms were hard to survive, let alone the mad rat king and his two sons. However, you quickly missed the sandy landscapes, because the next stop was a land covered with ice.

Journey to the next Relic wasn't easy. The snow was falling heavily, limiting your vision. The horizon disappeared, you could only see The Destined One figure forcing his way through the high layer of snow. You felt that your shoes were already soaked along with the lower part of your clothes.

Even though you were following the path beaten by your companion, you were moving slowly. You sighed heavily at the thought that you probably still had a long way to go and you could only dream about a break. How nice it would be to sit by the fire and warm yourself. Suddenly various memories started coming back to haunt you here, in the middle of nowhere.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the familiar warmth. You looked to your left and met his shining eyes, staring into your red face. The Destined One was standing next to you, wrapping his arm around you. A slight smile appeared on his face.

"Sorry", you said quietly. "I'm slowing us down"

But he just shook his head as if he wanted to say that you were talking nonsense. With a firm move, he pulled you closer to him. Your bodies touched even more, you felt a pleasant warmth radiating from him. His hot breath spread across your frozen place. Even know you could feel his unique, but nice scent.

He noticed your tiredness and how chilly you were. You had been shivering from the cold for a while now. He wished he had something to cover you with, but all he could offer was his arm. You appreciated his concern and looking out for you. That alone made you not feel so poorly anymore.

"Thank you, much better now", you said with a smile. "We can go"

He nodded, clealry pleased with the answer. You to were walking together now, hugging each other. The road didn't seem so hard anymore and the snow slowly stopped failing. The horizon became clearer, revealing hugh mountains and old temples. You finally felt like you had made progress. Previous difficulties became only unpleasant memories.

The closer you got, the more the weather was getting better. It was still snowing, but it wasn't even that cold anymore. And yet you still walked together, hugged to each other, neither of you thinking about pulling away. While admiring the views, you told him some old story from your childhood about a hard winter in your village. When you weren't looking, he was admiring you in silence, enjoying the moment.

#black myth wukong #black myth wukong x reader #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #the destined one #journey to the west #jttw

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onlyseokmins · 1 year ago

Text

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow — but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression.

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?"

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…"

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows?

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs.

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression.

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him.

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together.

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you.

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick!

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man.

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!"

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now.

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips.

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure.

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it.

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?"

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!"

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier.

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly?

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in.

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood.

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore.

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care.

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future.

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth.

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you.

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall.

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will."

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face.

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt.

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight.

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face.

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it.

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material.

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle.

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy."

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate.

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips.

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength.

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!"

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it.

You're honestly a little offended.

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock.

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot.

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible.

"Good thing I'm flexible."

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut."

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — "

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall.

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue.

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core.

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal.

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you.

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays.

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring.

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion.

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter. After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

#ez.creates #lee chan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #dino smut #kpop smut #smut #nana 🦕#ez.mootz #svt.smut #3k 🎆

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retroellie · 8 months ago

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Dating Spencer Reid

Summary: What dating spencer Reid is like

A/N: I wrote this super-fast because I know I haven't really been active... so I wanted to write something quick for y'all! I miss y'all and I hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: Some NSFW moments

Word count: 1.5K

-Spencer grew up on Victorian romance novels and old valentines' poems, so he was quite the hopeless romantic

-When Spencer wasn't solving theories and getting PHDs, he was dreaming of a beautiful romance. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that he isn't the most confident boyfriend, but he makes up for it in his own way!

-Y'alls first date was something straight out of a movie! I mean it was a bouquet of flowers, an expensive dinner followed by a movie theater that played only old 50's films.

-It was the kind of date that had you falling in love with him first thing, knowing that this boy was the person you see yourself coming home to every night.

-After the date, Spencer offered you his jacket and walked you home. It was a chilly night, the streets lit up from the moonlight. He rambled on and on about the movie, but you couldn't even focus on what he was saying because you were too distracted by him.

-What you fell more in love with was the fact he didn't expect you to even kiss him!

-He was more than okay to say your "goodbyes" and "see you later" than leave.... but you gave him a soft peck before heading into your apartment. Even throughout the darkness you could see his blush.

-Anyways, that date led to a beautiful love story between y'all

-Spencer was a romantic even in the littlest of ways, like sending flowers to your work randomly or leaving you small poems in your fridge before he leaves so it feels as though he never really leaves.

-Spencer would always make sure to call you every night when he was away for work... I mean EVERY night.

-"Spencer honey it's 3am here..."

-"I know! But I just wanted to call you, should I call back in the morning?"

-"No, I'm already up and well I miss hearing your voice anyways." You laughed softly.

-The start of your relationship was so innocent, there was no sex or jealousy... it was just so simple and romantic

-There was lots of making out though, something that surprisingly Spencer was the one to initiate every time.

-There were just lots of times when you two would be discussing a book that Spencer probably recommended to you, then all of a sudden, his tongue would be down your throat.

-He was getting used to hugs and the touching, but kissing was something that felt so natural when he did it with you.

-Speaking of books! He had a list of books he recommended to you, like books that you never thought you'd read but you're glad you did yk?

-You would finish a book in one sitting and call him immediately to talk about it

-In turn though, you would bring him into the modern era and show him newer movies and music. Most of the stuff he did not like, but he pretended to like it to be nice.

-The first couple of months of your relationship, the team had no idea you existed. They started to notice spencer being in a lot better mood, but nothing too alarming.

-However, Derek Morgan is a lady killer... so he caught on a lot faster than the others.

-Like one time, the whole team was going out for drinks and Spencer said he had plans... Derek caught him in a lie real fast

-"So, who's the lucky lady?"

-"What?"

-"Pretty boy...I don't need to be a profiler to figure out why your suddenly so "busy.""

-Because of Morgan prying, Spencer decided to invite you out with the team one night.

-The team was all pretty nice, but very confused on why someone like you would want someone like spencer?? You two were completely different from each other... like night and day damn near

-Besides your differences, the team fell in love with you probably harder than Spencer did. I mean Penelope basically adopted you by the end of the night... she did however do her background checking before meeting you, but we don't gotta talk about that.

-The meeting of the team made the relationship real, like now you had become a part of their small family, and they trusted you enough to take care of spencer

-Spencer also felt this was a huge step, like now that his family accepted you, he was going to spend the rest of his life with you

-Spencer would always bring you up when he got the chance now, putting a framed picture of you and him on his desk just so people would ask about you.

-"Oh, who's this?" Someone would ask.

-"That's my girlfriend, Y/N. We've been dating for 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days. She's a (profession) and she smells like lavender."

-Like girl, all they asked was who you were... not every detail of your existence.

-But now that you guys are now officially dating, and everyone knows it... there's some newfound jealousy

-Spencer knew that you were attractive, but sometimes he forgets that you are also attractive to others as well

-Sometimes when you come into the FBI office, he sees other men staring you down... probably wondering how a nerdy boy like him could get someone like you.

-Spencer getting jealous is quiet and polite. He doesn't get angry or upset, we all know he does not do good with emotions. So, he'll just keep his distance from you, accepting the fact that you could leave him at any moment and not wanting to feel the effects of it.

-He will go silent for days if you didn't ask him about it, not even sure what he was feeling but knew he didn't like it.

-"Just didn't like how he was looking at you... made me feel weird."

-"You're jealous?"

-"I guess... I don't know."

-You just laughed it off, telling him how you would never choose anyone over him even if there was a gun to your head.

-Spencer also remembers everything about everything so... he picks up on your favorite things and your little quirks, plus he never forgets an anniversary!

-Derek bullies the shit out of him, like omfg

-he'll always call you his mommy and make kissing sounds when you call him, loud enough for the entire office to hear.

-"Muah muah muah... Oh Y/N!!" Derek yells, making sure you heard him.

-"So let me guess... Dereks with you?"

-"How'd you know?"

-He actually doesn't use too many pet names, but you definitely do lmao. His name is literally "Spenice poo <3" on your phone.

-Eventually, Spencer asks you to move in with him and omfg!!! You are so excited, like jumping up and down excitedly.

-I feel like spencer would be so domestic too omfg

-He would play music while cleaning the house, but it would all be like Mozart and classical music. You would always grab him by the waist and start dancing with him, you both looked so stupid but at least it was together.

-He would ramble to you all the time and you were probably the only person in the world that would let him, honestly you enjoyed it too.

-Like you had just gotten out of the shower, Spencer barged in and started talking about a case. He sat on the toilet seat while you did your skin care, just rambling on and on about how sick this person was.

-Yours and Spencer's different aesthetics clashed a lot in the house, like Spencer's apartment was slowly being taken over by you and your stuff... but he didn't mind.

-Since you guys have decided to take your relationship to another big step... Spencer decided he wanted you to pop his cherry.

-Spencer wasn't too experienced and he's never really had sex before. He's done stuff with someone, but never the actual act of it.

-He wanted to do it way before, but he thought it would complicate everything and honestly, he wasn't completely ready for it yet.

-You made sure it was the perfect night, you had it planned out. You took him on a picnic, watching the sunset as you loosened him up a little bit, making sure he was comfortable before setting yourself down on his lap.

-You were so soft with him; I mean you were afraid you might break him. He had to beg for you at one point because you weren't going fast enough.

-The next morning, he had to go into work, something about him was different... his confidence boosted a bit. Derek could sense it from a mile away, making sure Spencer knew that he knew.

-The popping of his cherry had created something inside spencer, he found his favorite thing to do, and he wanted it at all times

-You obviously were glad to give him whatever his little heart desired, so you let him fuck you anytime he wanted. Sometimes it even got a little filthy... something you would have never guessed about spencer.

-My bad I got sidetracked... but spencer was also way touchier with you

-Spencer was never really touchy in public, but now it's all he ever did. If you were in the room with him, then his attention would be completely on you.

-He really just felt so safe with you, knowing that you gave him not only your body but also your mind... he just wanted you, period.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fandom #spence reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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kingkat12 · 2 months ago

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roman's girl (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, oral sex, major fluff, public sexual activites, Roman is a tit guy what can i say

summary: after Roman finally confesses his feelings, will it be enough to subside your longing for the past? coming face to face with Letha might uncover the truth...

word count: 10,586 (my oh my)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

a/n: i want to thank you all once again for the love y'all have given this series, it's absolutely mind-blowing😭 sorry for the wait, I LOVE YOU, and i hope you'll enjoy this chapter!!<33

This was certainly not how I had expected this night to go-- the turn of events truly hit me as Roman sat on the edge of my bed, hair still wet from the shower.

I couldn't believe he was my boyfriend. I couldn't believe it at all.

On top of everything, he looked gorgeous as always, especially in the moonlight. After he had gotten drenched from the rain, I had given him his sweater back and lent him the only pair of sweatpants I knew would fit him-- I had finally found a use for the pair I had bought the wrong size of at a sale.

Roman's green eyes followed me as I moved a few things around my desk. "You seem nervous," he said, a teasing tone about him. "Or are you just upset you couldn't hop into the shower with me?"

Huffing, I did my best not to laugh; I couldn't let him have this one. "My parents are still trying to wrap their heads around me having a boy over, so I think I'd give them a heart attack if they caught us showering together,"

Roman bit his lip, visibly amused. "I still can't believe I'm the first one," he said, tapping his fingers against my duvet. "You sure you haven't had any other guys in here? You can be honest."

"I am being honest," I leaned my back against the wall, watching him from afar. I was afraid that I'd jump him if I got any closer-- he was ridiculously hot with his fresh-out-of-the-shower look. "I haven't had anyone else up here. Ever. Why is that so hard to believe?"

Roman shrugged; "Cause you're cute?"

I didn't blink, staring back at him with a dumbfounded expression. He said it so nonchalantly, as though I hadn't been fighting for him to tell me his feelings for weeks. Now, it was easy. Easy. With a shy smile, I stepped away from the wall. "Really, now?"

Roman's signature smirk returned as he guided me between his legs, his hands kneading my waist as he looked up at me with his big, wanting eyes. "I'm just glad we're talking again," he murmured, his fingers slowly dipping beneath the edge of my t-shirt. "I've missed your snark."

It was impossible not to smile-- I brought my hands to his face, letting my thumbs brush over his eyebrows; "And I've missed you,"

Roman hummed, his eyes practically sparkling as his fingers continued to ghost over my skin in trying motions. "How badly?"

"Badly," My hands went up into his hair, watching as he keened against my touch. "You and your green eyes."

"My eyes?" It was clear that Roman struggled not to be visibly flustered-- instead, he opted to lift my t-shirt, leaning forward to press an endearing kiss against my tummy. Every touch, every kiss made me feel beyond adored. "What about them?" He pulled away, smirk still apparent. "You think they're pretty or something?"

"You know very well,"

"What? I know nothing,"

"Roman," Laughing, I leaned down to press my lips against his damp hair. "I don't need to spell it out for you."

He shrugged, his fingers rubbing circles into my sides. "Actually, I think you do. Especially after how you tortured me with spelling shit out for you this week,"

Truly, he had a point. I just hated that he was right. "That's different, Rome, that was a completely separate thing!--"

"Oh, just tell me my eyes are pretty, get on with it!"

Taken aback, I watched as Roman did his best to suppress a knowing grin, biting down on his lip as he stared up at me through his brows. Even now, he was painfully handsome-- I nearly melted into my hardwood floors. "Well, now I definitely won't,"

Groaning, Roman seemed to take that as a challenge; in a swift motion, he wrapped his arms around me and tackled me onto the bed. I let out a high-pitched squeak, completely caught off-guard; "You can't just!--"

"Tell me," Roman hooked his arms around my legs after getting in between them, yanking me towards him as he now hovered above me. I could only giggle at the sight of his plotting eyes, realizing my new boyfriend reminded me of the puppy I used to babysit in middle school-- eager to play.

I had to catch my breath after being manhandled like that; "What happened to your manners?"

"Manners?" he echoed, clearly holding back a fit of laughter. "What manners? I was raised in the forest with the wolves, don't you know?"

For fuck's sake-- I nearly lost face. "You can't just toss me around and demand to be praised!"

Roman hummed, the mischievous shimmer in his eyes only growing more bright. "Actually, I think I can toss you around as I please," He leaned down, pressing a wet kiss to my neck. "Or are you planning on fighting me, baby?"

I knew I was done for now. With the nickname, and all. "I could if I wanted to," I was aware that the shake in my voice didn't sound very convincing, and it eventually became glaringly obvious that I shouldn't have said that. I could tell with how Roman smiled against my neck, and the way his arms snaked around me in a tight hold; "I'd like to see you try."

No, no, no-- I wasn't about to have a playfight with a man standing tall at 6'4. There was no way in hell. "Well, I wouldn't want to hurt your ego when you ultimately lose," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around him. "Let's take it when you've had time to prepare."

That was the last straw for Roman, who finally burst out laughing; I followed shortly after. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at me with amusement sparkling in his green eyes; "That's very considerate of you," he said, gently nudging my nose with his. "But this means I can toss you around for tonight, then."

I was about to protest, but I suddenly felt tongue-tied-- something about the idea of being moved around like I weighed nothing, like I was his to boss around, did something to me. Something I couldn't put my finger on. "I, uh... Well-- My parents are next door,"

It dawned on Roman that I was right, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth with the realization. "Damn it," he mumbled, humming as he leaned down to kiss me.

I sighed against his lips, the usual satisfaction coursing through my veins-- nothing could ever top this. Subconsciously, I wrapped my legs around him, wanting to pull him as close to me as possible. However, it seemed Roman had other plans; he disconnected our sweet kiss, shortly pressing one more against the corner of my mouth before propping himself up again. "But... you can stay quiet, right?"

My eyes widened just slightly-- I wasn't too keen on showing how nervous I was to hear that. "Depends," I breathed, reaching forward to tuck a few strands of his brown hair away from his forehead. "If you're talking about going all the way, I don't think that's the best idea with my parents on the other side of the wall--"

"No, no," Roman quickly interrupted my ramble, shaking his head. "Just a little... something. To celebrate."

My heart rate quickened as I felt my pulse rise; that could mean literally anything.

"Don't look so scared," Roman purred, pressing a short kiss to my lips-- it was embarrassing how little it took for me to unravel. "I'm not going to bite. I'm almost certain."

"What?" Almost?

Roman only chuckled, his hands now trailing up beneath my shirt again, ghosting over my skin with the touch of a feather. The softness of his fingers nearly left me shuddering, my lips parting at the sensation as I writhed just slightly-- I had to look away from his proud look, realizing my shirt was now bunched up right under my bra, leaving me exposed.

"I hope that being your boyfriend comes with some perks," Roman said, placing his palms against my waist to see how small I was compared to his hands. "Maybe you won't be so shy to let me touch you."

I could only blush-- he wasn't wrong. I still wasn't used to it. I wasn't sure how many times I had swatted his hands away, not yet allowing him to take all the liberties he wanted seeing as we weren't official. But now... everything had changed. Now that I knew where I had him, it felt easier to allow myself the pleasure.

Roman leaned down to kiss up my abdomen, leaving a wet mark behind every touch of his lips against my skin. I held my breath, reaching forward to bury my hands in his hair, feeling my heartbeat pulsing all the way through the tips of my fingers as I grew nervous. I had no idea what plans he had in mind, and whether I wanted him to stop or not.

"I'm surprised you haven't been more aggressive about it," I breathed, finally looking down to meet his wanting, green eyes. "I always expected you to be. You always seemed like the type."

Roman hummed, his fingers tracing the edge of my bra. "I have been, with others," he said, matter-of-factly. "Mostly because I knew they'd let me. Some girls are easy, in that sense."

I couldn't even hold my grimace-- I reached for his hands, holding him back from going any further. "You don't hear yourself, do you?" Propping myself up on my elbows, I tried to scour the thoughts behind his deep eyes, but to no avail. I didn't even care to adjust my t-shirt before I answered him; "It speaks volumes about your view of women."

"My view?" Roman bit his lip, holding back his amusement. "I love women. Where on earth would I be without women?"

I had to hold myself back from kicking him. "I don't think I want to hear this--"

"But most of all, I love girls like you," Leaning down to kiss my shoulder, Roman slid his hands down my thighs and to my knees that were creased over his legs. "But funnily enough, there aren't any girls like you. You're like a singular, vexing entity... and you've got me. You've really got me." His kisses trailed up to my collarbones, and I tilted my head to give him easier access-- I hated how little restraint I had around him, even when he said the most asshole-y things possible.

"You've got me. All of me," Roman murmured, managing to lay me back down on the bed, disarming me in an instant. It was impossible not to let my heart swell at his words, and it only got worse as he continued; "I've never had anyone fight for me like you do. Never met someone worth the challenge. So excuse me for not being aggressively inappropriate with you."

I was so stunned, that I simply stared up at him like a dazzled fool as he slowly pried off my shirt. "Well, you-- you have been inappropriate,"

"Oh, I'm not denying that," Roman's knowing smirk was on display as he wried his shirt off, now crawling back on top of me. I hummed, unable to hold back the sigh that escaped me as I felt his weight back on me, skin to skin. My hands went back up in his hair, making sure it wouldn't hide his beautiful eyes before pulling him in for an open, loving kiss.

There was a certain heat to it that I wasn't used to-- it was perhaps the finality of our union that allowed us to get lost in it. Either that, or Roman didn't care to hold back anymore. I hadn't noticed he was hard until he pressed further up against the apex of my thighs; my breath hitched against our kiss, my grip in his soon-to-be dry hair tightening as the friction between my legs gave me the relief I didn't know I needed.

Roman's lips were always breathtakingly plush against mine, his tongue gently moving in motions that kept me on the brink of clenching my legs around him-- I always felt out of breath after every kiss, especially when we were tangled up like this for longer than what we could be in public. My heart swelled as it beat at his, and I was unable to hold back the hitch of my breath which escaped me as he sunk his teeth into my bottom lip.

Roman pulled away long enough to speak; "So can you?"

I would've answered him quicker, had it not been for the fact that he wouldn't let me detach from the kiss that ensued. Humming, I had to give his hair a harder tug, feeling him sigh in a wave of satisfaction before finally allowing me to disconnect our kiss. "Can I what?" I tried, hoping to catch my breath.

"Keep quiet," Roman nudged my nose with his as his big, green eyes found mine.

"I don't even know what it is that you're planning to do!--"

"You've gotta promise," he said, placing a short kiss against my rambling lips. "I don't want any problems with your parents. It's sort of nice to meet the only people in this town who don't think I'm a scoundrel."

I had to laugh-- it was true. They certainly had no idea about the reputation my new boyfriend had. "Okay, I promise! But what are you--"

I was yanked forward on the bed for the second time tonight; Roman heard a green light, and that was enough for him. I yelped, immediately clasping my hand over my mouth as his eager kisses trailed down my body, his hands now slowly inching toward my zipper.

It all happened so fast-- I nearly bit down on my hand to suppress my nervous trail of noises as Roman discarded my pants with ease. He was almost methodical, planting soft, warm kisses along the inside of my thigh as his fingers trailed up to grab at my waist. He kissed his way up to my center before passing over it, leaving me heaving for air out of sheer excitement-- he now descended over to my other thigh, his green eyes darkening as he looked up to catch my reaction to his teases.

The breath in my chest was a rapid circle, but it caught in my throat as I watched Roman smirk against my skin, taking in the sight of me coming apart as he spoke; "Hold on... Is this turning you on or something?"

I was two seconds away from kicking him. Genuinely. "You're awful," I breathed, burying my face in my hands.

"Really? I usually get quite raving reviews," Roman laughed against my thigh, sinking his teeth into my skin to evoke a noise. That seemed to work-- I let out a squeak before propping myself up on my elbows again, staring down at him with narrowed eyes; "You're already making a mess out of me, do you need to make fun of me too?"

Roman chuckled, pressing an apologetic kiss where he had previously bit me. "Not making fun of you," he murmured, his hold around my waist allowing him to move me even closer to him with a swift motion. Now, his breath was falling hot and heavy right above my clothed sex. "Just trying to get you to talk."

"Talk?" I echoed, watching Roman hook his fingers around my underwear-- I couldn't watch this. I laid back down on the bed with a shaky breath, squirming beneath his grip.

Roman hummed; "Yeah," He licked a wet stripe up the crease of my thigh, slowly, along the hem of my panties, which left me shivering. "We both know how much you're going to enjoy this, anyway. You might as well come out and say it."

He certainly knew how to build anticipation-- his words had nearly distracted me from the moment he dragged my underwear to the side, now leaning forward to press a kiss against my clit. I gasped, once again clasping a hand over my mouth; this was a sensation I could get used to. "Roman--"

As much as he wanted me to talk, I couldn't. Not when he swept his tongue through the wetness of my slit, not when that action had me bucking my hips up against him, not when it all left me breathless. Roman's big, strong hands grabbed me, pinning me down as he laved his tongue up along my cunt with slow, meticulous motions.

This feeling was so foreign-- I really had no idea how to deal with it. I felt my breath catch in my chest, my back arching slightly off the bed as I fought the urge to tremble against him. Even worse, was the fight against making any noise that could give away what we were doing in here. I let out a broken, quiet moan as I reached for Roman's hair, running my fingers through it in a desperate attempt to seek some comfort from the storm of feelings raving through me.

Roman sighed against me, his grip on my hips tightening as he pressed a few gentle, almost sweet, kisses against my clit, which immediately had my breath hitching rather loudly. His eyes returned to watch me, narrowing as a signal; keep it down.

Everything about it made me blush-- I buried my face in my hands, feeling them tremble against my skin. It felt as though my veins were on fire as I fought to keep my breath steady, and I was about to grab a pillow and stuff my face in it before I heard a knock at the door.

My eyes sprung open, immediately reaching down to pull Roman away from me as I panicked. However, my new boyfriend had other plans-- his fingers dug into my flesh, eyes boring into mine with burning embers of challenge as he laved his tongue against my clit with repeating firm licks. Something told me this was beyond exciting to him, and it only made my hips buck up against his mouth. No, no--

Another knock; "Sweetie, we're going to bed! Don't stay up too late, alright?"

"I-- Okay!" I hoped they couldn't hear that I was panting, back arched off the bed as Roman nearly made me see stars.

"Do you need anything in there?"

No, no, no-- what was that even supposed to mean? Something told me my parents were nervous about me having a boy over. I could feel Roman smile against me, clearly amused, as I fought the urge to moan; "N-No, we're good!"

A huge part of me wanted to kill him for putting me through this, but the other part of me was too occupied with the familiar building feeling in my body. When I was sure my parents had stepped away, I reached down to give his hair a proper tug to get his attention; "Rome, you can't just-- you can't do that, are you insane?"

I would later regret saying that-- immediately, actually. With a rather evil look about him, Roman propped himself up on his elbows, staring back at me with a look of dark victory. I whimpered at the loss of contact, squirming in his hold. "You should've seen your face," he purred, suppressing a laugh. "You looked like you were going to cum out of fear."

Honestly, I had no idea what that even meant. Not the faintest, whatsoever. But all my plans of asking him or telling him off were thrown out the window the second I realized his mouth was covered in what I could only guess was me. I watched my slick around his lips glisten as the moonlight shone across his face-- that was certainly a sight I never imagined I'd ever see, and one I wish I could frame and pull up for special occasions.

Roman's eyes lit up, quickly catching onto what had gotten me so dumbstruck. In a show of power, he slowly slid his tongue along his plush lips with a low hum, which in turn nearly made me gasp. A dark laugh followed, a dangerous smirk on display as he spoke the words that would later haunt my dreams; "You taste divine,"

My grip around his hair loosened, feeling as though my breath was slowly seeping out of my lungs with no control whatsoever. It hit me how badly I wanted his mouth back on me again, how much I wanted him to drive me over the edge to get that sense of relief I craved so, so-- "Well... There's more where that came from,"

Roman's lips quirked into a surprised smile, tilting his head to the side as he watched me with a look I could only describe as pride. "Shit, you're learning," he said, a hint of a laugh apparent in his voice.

"That's my girl."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Being Roman's girl was certainly not something I ever thought I'd be. I had imagined it, sure, played with the idea in my head, but with the premonition that I would never truly know what that entailed-- I certainly didn't think this would be it.

I should've known Roman wouldn't let this night end.

"Was it truly torture?" I asked, my legs dangling off my roof about an hour later. "The whole ordeal where I wanted you to tell me you liked me."

Roman sat beside me, having insisted that he couldn't sleep without getting a proper hit of nicotine after his stressful day. He exhaled a particularly large ring of smoke, shrugging as though that would lift the weight off his next words; "Felt like it,"

"Why?"

"Dumb question,"

"Just answer it!"

Roman sighed, eyes fixating on the way I dangled my legs. He reached forward with his free hand, grabbing my hips and adjusting me further back on the roof. "You're going to fall off the roof like that," he mumbled, taking another drag. "Try not to die on me, hm?"

I was getting fed up with the way he was evading my question-- I sent him a look, shoulders slumping. "Rome,"

"What? I need you alive," He held out his cigarette in front of me when he was done, and I grimaced as I took it into my hand. He continued with a knowing smirk; "If you fall off the roof, people are going to think I pushed you. Think how my reputation would suffer."

I rolled my eyes; I was definitely not getting anywhere with this question tonight. "Perhaps," I watched the cigarette rest between my fingers as I held it out in front of me-- I still hadn't learned how to smoke, let alone found the will to. "But I bet you could buy your way out of prison, so I don't think you'd suffer much."

"Don't be ridiculous. If you were gone, I'd be suffering all the time," Once more, it was clear that he hadn't yet registered the weight of his words as he longingly stared at his cigarette. "Are you going to have a drag or not?"

I slowly turned to him, blinking twice. "You did not just say that,"

"What? I've waited for a cigarette break all day!--"

"Not that!" This was getting rather frustrating. I huffed, going back to dangling my legs over the edge of the roof. "That you would suffer all the time if I was gone?"

Roman shrugged, gaze now shifting to stare out on the lawn in front of us; "Of course I would. It would be this week, just all over again for eternity,"

"So, just to hear you say it again, it was torture?"

A groan-- "Yeah... It was," His big, green eyes trailed back to me once more, something unfamiliar swimming in them. "I guess you're the first girl I've ever cared for, so imagine my horror when you made it seem like you didn't care about me back."

I was sure this would break my heart all over again. My lips parted in shock, still not used to the fact that Roman was being open with me after all this time. "I never... I never thought you'd doubt that," I had to clear my throat, no longer meeting his eyes. "After how I've been acting around you."

"Acting like what?"

"Like a fool,"

Amused, Roman reached forward and brought the cigarette back between his fingers before he shifted closer to me. "Honestly? I thought it was cute," He noticed my aversion, nudging me gently before taking a drag. "I think it was the fact that you had no idea what you were doing that drew me in. And your scared little face."

I rolled my eyes, nudging him back. "Now that was torture too! The whole part where you were threatening to tell Letha we fucked in that closet during seven minutes of heaven! You should be glad I didn't succumb to a heart attack,"

"Oh, yeah... that," Roman finished his cigarette, stumping it on the hard materials of the roof. "To put it briefly, I didn't know how else to approach you. You both hated my guts and wanted to inhale me."

"Inhale you?!"

With a hearty laugh, Roman wrapped a protective arm around me, leaning down to press a playful kiss against my ear before whispering; "I might just let you if you stay nice,"

I didn't expect my cheeks to burn the way they did-- I was dead sure I was bright red, and I buried my face in his chest to hide it. Roman, still laughing at my embarrassment, kissed the top of my head as he pulled me even closer. "Oh, poor you, am I being mean?"

Huffing, I pouted against his chest; "Yes,"

"Too much for you for one night?"

"... No,"

I didn't need to see him to know Roman was smirking, that mischievous shimmer probably apparent in his eyes. "Good," he murmured. "Because I want to mention one more thing before we go back inside and try not to wake your parents again."

Oh God-- I gathered the courage to look up at him, watching the way his hair lay in soft waves over his forehead. Something told me I should savour the moment before he opened his mouth once more, and I straightened up, watching him follow my every move with intrigue.

I placed a hesitant, delicate kiss against Roman's plush lips, feeling him sigh. I couldn't quite pinpoint why I was still nervous to initiate, why I still wondered if I was doing it all wrong, but I had a feeling I would always be. Especially when it came to Roman. The guy I had wanted for ages, who was currently sitting on my roof, kissing me back.

It hit me that it would probably never dawn on me fully-- how could it?

Roman smiled against my lips, our breaths practically becoming one as we pulled away. I kissed him once more, shortly, before reaching forward to bring his hands into mine. "You were saying?"

His eyes, full of affection, watched as I flipped his hands and traced circles around his palms. "Just... the whole ordeal felt like shit, but that the most painful thing was to see you trying to flirt with that Daniel guy,"

"What?" My brows drew together, puzzled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Roman chuckled, sighing at the feeling of my soft touch. "It's just obvious that you don't know what you're doing,"

"That's nonsense, I do!"

"Nope,"

"I know how to flirt!"

He shook his head rather matter-of-factly; "Nope,"

This was outrageous-- My movements came to a halt, my eyes narrowing as they met his. "Well, I got you somehow, didn't I?"

"Because I let you," Roman intertwined out fingers, the sight of his smirk nearly becoming unbearable. Why did he have to be so handsome, even whilst making fun of me? "Because I wanted to kiss you so bad, it became my every waking thought. But had it not been for that, I'm not so sure."

I gasped, fighting his grip around my hands; I had never wanted to hit him more than now, despite his confession. "Stop it, I can flirt!"

Roman hummed, sending me a look that told me he wasn't sold. "If I remember correctly, your exact words that first time were could you kiss me, then? I've had a really shitty night," He laughed at the memory, squeezing my hands. "Now, what do you say you try again?"

I was sure I was going to melt into the roof and end up as a blob of goo on my lawn. This was horrifying. My cheeks flushed again, feeling myself get more and more flustered. "Set the scene, then,"

Roman leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my forehead-- it almost felt like a push of encouragement. He pulled away, his thumbs stroking over the healing cuts on the back of my hands. "Okay... Imagine we're back in that closet, and you so desperately want to kiss me again--"

"Rome!--"

"Desperately," he whispered, eyes burning with intrigue and challenge as they bore into mine. "So what do you do?"

I held my breath, watching the amused smirk on display across his plush, pink lips. "What do you mean?"

Roman bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh in my face. "Fine, let's do a different approach. I'll teach you how, instead," His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. "The key to flirting is to say exactly what's on your mind, along with having a decent enough buildup. Do you catch my drift?"

"... Sure?"

"I'll give you an example," Roman let go of my hands, almost as though to reset the scene. He ran his fingers through his hair, the corners of his mouth curving up into his classic charming smile as his eyes remained sincere. "The first part is simple. Just keep your eyes on me."

Simple was an understatement-- my heart beat harder with every breath, unable to let my mind rest while looking at the show of beauty before me, carved by the Gods. Everything about Roman was simply perfect, and I was afraid I'd turn into stone if I stared at him too long. Despite that, I adhered; I gave in to a nod, unable to dim my growing smile.

"Then..." Roman's fingers ghosted up along the side of my arm, so light it almost tickled. I shivered, my skin reacting to the subtle contact. His fingers trailed down to my hand, and he gently intertwined them with mine, touching me as though I was made of glass-- everything about it made me feel like I was on fire. "Touch. Very, very simple, but very effective. As you see, your breath is already unsteady."

Fuck. I gulped, giving in to a nervous, soft giggle as my gaze started flickering. "Well, you certainly know what you're doing--"

"Eyes on me,"

A very simple oh escaped me, immediately focusing back on Roman despite how ridiculously nervous I was.

He, on the other hand, seemed beyond amused at this point; "And then you say what you want. It's all very simple," Roman toyed with my fingers, running his up along the short length of mine, and the intimacy of it nearly had my breath hitching. After going from not talking at all to this, my brain wasn't as used to his antics anymore-- I so desperately hoped I wouldn't swoon and roll off the roof.

"And that is...?"

Roman shifted, his lips now hovering inches above mine; the tension was thicker than ever, swallowing me whole. The playfulness of his smirk faded, his eyes rounding out as he realized the weight of his words before finally saying them; "I want you to kiss me just like you did a few minutes ago... Kiss me like you could possibly love me,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I never thought that being Roman's girl would bring me such peace. We had been together for a week now, and it felt like the best week of my life; a big part of me was sure it actually was.

My fall-out with Letha started to feel worth it-- if she couldn't accept that I was happy with Roman despite him being her cousin, then that was her loss. Why shouldn't friends be happy for each other?

Because honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy. Especially now that I was sitting in the passenger seat of Roman's car on a lazy Sunday, the wind blowing through my hair as he bickered with Peter about the songs playing on the stereo. I could only laugh, a bright smile on my face as I kicked back, adjusting my sunglasses as the bright rays of the day shone down on us.

"This song sucks," Roman grumbled, clearly regretting giving his best friend Bluetooth access to the stereo. "Since when were you so into Britney Spears? Do you have nothing else you can play?"

Splaying out in the backseat, practically lying down, Peter crossed his arms behind his head as he chuckled; "Maybe I like that you don't like it? And you're a psycho if you don't enjoy this one, it's hit me baby one more time! Put some respect on the name,"

"Dude, you sound like a thirteen-year-old girl,"

"A thirteen-year-old with taste, at least!"

I couldn't help but laugh-- the one thing I had learned about Roman, was that the gang of boys he usually hung out with had nothing on his friendship with Peter. Something about the way they were annoying each other showed me all I needed to know. My gaze went back and forth between them, grinning from ear to ear. I could get used to this.

Roman rolled his eyes, switching lanes with ease. He was damn handsome behind the steering wheel, tapping his fingers along with the rhythm of the tune despite being vocal about his disdain-- the upturn of his nose, the way he quietly chewed his gum with no care in the world, everything about the sight of him and his styled brown hair made me feel beyond lucky to have his attention, even for a moment. So, when he placed his hand on my thigh, I had to bite down on my lip and look away; it was all too exhilarating.

"Could I pick the next song?" I asked, turning to Peter. I noticed he had already closed his eyes, basking in the sun as he nodded and handed me his phone.

Something told me Roman was relieved to be saved from Britney Spears-- he squeezed my thigh twice, making me giggle as I scrolled through Peter's playlist. When I finally found the perfect song, I tried to hide my smile in the palm of my hand as I held back any signs of my brewing laughter.

The second the new song sounded through the stereo, it became impossible to hold back my evil joy as Roman let out the loudest groan I'd ever heard from him; "For fuck's sake!"

I succumbed to my laugh, hearing Peter roaring from the backseat at my song of choice. I turned to him, accepting his high-five. There was no way in hell I'd give anything up for the look on Roman's face right now— the way he rolled his eyes, sending me a quick, sharp glare; "Traitor,"

"I like Britney!" I tapped my fingers against the hand he had on my thigh, humming along to the music. "And oops, I did it again is a classic!"

Roman shook his head; "The both of you are awful,"

"We're not!" Peter protested, sitting up in his seat. "We just have superior music taste. And also, when are you going to pull over?"

"Never. Pee your pants, dipshit,"

"Yeah? I will hold your girlfriend hostage and key your car if you don't find a gas station in five minutes,"

Groaning once more, Roman rolled his eyes and switched lanes, ready to get off the highway. "You keep her out of this," He glanced at me, the spark in his green eyes unmistakable, before meeting Peter's gaze in the rearview mirror. "And you better stay away from my fucking car, I just got it repainted!"

Oh, it was impossible not to smile. Impossible. Even despite the two of them getting on my nerves, I couldn't deny that Roman was making up for my lack of friends by surrounding me with people. I wasn't sure whether he meant to or not, if it was subconscious, but I felt taken care of, even in odd company.

Roman cared for me. He was taking care of me.

... In his own weird way, of course.

When we finally arrived at the nearest gas station, Roman's car still intact and I not held hostage, it didn't take long before Peter jumped out of the back and headed inside, giving us a moment alone.

I watched Roman fix his hair in the car mirror, and I wasn't sure whether he realized he was still humming hit me baby one more time. With a bright smile on my face, I reached out for his hand, giving it a short squeeze to get his attention. "I'm gonna run inside and get some water, do you want anything? Juice, a soda?"

My breath nearly got knocked out of me as Roman's eyes met mine, the green in his eyes more intense now than ever as the sun laid itself in soft strokes over his face. "Maybe a beer?"

"Rome, you're driving!"

"Oh, cry me a river," Roman leaned over to press a short, soft kiss against my lips. "Get me a cola or something, then."

I hummed, a faint blush apparent on my cheeks. Why did every kiss, every touch, get me so giddy? Still, I tried to keep my composure-- "Could you at least say please?"

Shaking his head, Roman reached for his wallet; "Nope. But I'll pay,"

"Just say it nicely, that's all I ask of you!"

He handed me his card, sending me a look which said don't argue. "You know the code,"

"I-- Ugh, just say it!"

"What do I get for it?"

Calculated fucker. "Fine, I'll blow you later!"

He grinned-- "There you go," Roman took my hand into his, pressing a kiss against my knuckles. Something told me he was simply hiding his look of victory. "Please get me a coke, and get yourself anything you'd like. Alright?"

"Alright," Despite my mind racing from the fact that I didn't know how to do what I had just promised him, I leaned over and gave Roman a sweet kiss on his cheek before I got out of the car. As I made my way to the gas station, I turned around just at the right time-- I caught the moment he tried to wipe the smile off his face with no success, clearly flustered as he failed to keep his composure.

It felt as though my hair was burning after being in the heat for this long, and I was happy to escape the sun when I entered the building. The cold breeze of the air-conditioner hit me, making me sigh in relief as I strolled along the endless aisles, looking for the perfect treat for the rest of my drive.

My head was still buzzing from the rush of being with Roman like this. The way he smiled at me, the way he leaned one arm out the window as he drove his red Jaguar down the highway-- it was perfectly picturesque. So as I reached for a chocolate bar with a wide grin on my face, I didn't expect it to get wiped away within the drop of a second.

On the other side of the aisle, a familiar pair of green eyes stared right back at me with a fright I hadn't seen in them before. Letha seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for me to speak, but instead, I froze with my hand still lingering on the chocolate-- we both stood still for so long, I was afraid the heat of my palm would melt the bar.

Letha's gaze moved from mine and down to my hands; I watched her eyes round out at the sight of the cuts on the back of my hands, the ones caused by her new best friend Jasmine. "Your hands," she breathed, clearly taken aback. I remembered overhearing Letha's conversation with Roman, where it had been unveiled that she had no idea I had been injured at all. Suddenly, all I could remember was the hurt in her voice as she continued; "I didn't think they would be so... gosh, I hoped Roman was exaggerating."

In the midst of my shock, I snapped out of it as a wave of anger washed over me. I was standing face to face with the girl who had made my life a living hell at school, and I no longer felt anything else than pure resentment. In a flash of confidence, I grabbed the chocolate bar and walked off without saying a word, not feeling the need to respond.

I should've known that wouldn't be the end-- "Hey, wait!" Letha followed on the other side of the aisle, her worried eyes never leaving me. "We need to talk, I can't do this anymore!"

As I reached the end of the candy aisle, our lanes intertwined. Groaning, I turned on my heel and started my march toward the beverages, hoping to shake her off. "I can spare you the hassle and tell you I have about three visible hickeys. Kindly throw up outside," In an attempt to keep calm, I started scouring the selection of drinks.

Letha quickly caught up to me, putting her hand over mine as I reached for the door to the beverages. "I don't care," she tried, eyes more sincere than ever. "I want you to know how sorry I am about you getting hurt. I never wanted it to go this far."

In an act of defiance, I wried my hand out of hers. "Fuck you," I sneered, forcing the fridge door open. "Sure, I got physically hurt, but I've been hurting for more than a month without you giving as much as a shit about it!" Reaching for a cola and a bottle of water, I turned to meet Letha's gaze. "Instead of shutting me out, you could've listened to me like you promised to when I told you about everything with Roman. Instead, you isolated me, made me a target, and now you expect me to want to talk to you?"

Letha's eyes were swimming in tears at this point, freezing to her spot. "I never wanted this for any of us! I'm so sorry!" She did her best to collect herself, but her voice was on the brink of breaking; "I never wanted to lose you in all of this, I miss my best friend! Do you not miss me too?"

I was ready to turn around and leave, but I stopped in my tracks. What?

... She missed me? And she was apologizing?

Just as I was about to answer, I felt a familiar presence come up behind me. Judging by the sound of the heavy boots, I pieced together that it was Peter. "Letha?" He seemed caught off guard by her presence, but his hands still reached for the items I was holding, indicating that we should get going.

Something about this was off-- my eyes darted back and forth between them, watching Letha's pupils dilate in what I could only guess was shock; what else could it be? "Peter? What are you--"

"Road trip," he said, tone stern as he cut her off. Peter grabbed my shoulders, now ushering me out of the way and towards the cashier.

I became a rambling mess, uttering a few incohesive words as I looked back at Letha. What had just happened? Peter's grip on my shoulders was the only thing stabilizing me as I somehow managed to pay and get out of the gas station. He opened the door to the passenger seat, sitting me down as he rolled his eyes at the sight of his best friend fixing his hair in the rearview mirror.

My guess was that I looked shell-shocked, because Roman immediately looked quite concerned as he exchanged a look with Peter. He reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Are you having a heat stroke? Why do you look so fried?"

Peter answered for me, plopping himself down in the back seat; "Letha," he mumbled, putting on his seatbelt. "She was in there. Didn't catch the convo, but your girls seemed to be going at each other's throats."

With a groan, Roman ran his hand down to grab mine, intertwining our fingers. "What did she say?" he asked me, giving my digits a small squeeze.

I shook my head; "Nothing. Let's just get out of here,"

I didn't want to tell him how hard it hit me to hear that Letha missed me and that she was finally apologizing. That it was churning my heart, grinding all the molecules of my anger down into a single river of sadness. What made everything worse, was the look on Roman's face; something told me that he knew, and that he most certainly didn't want to get into a push-and-pull situation with Letha. Who would win in that situation?

I was relieved when he finally started the car-- I hoped not to think about this for the remainder of the day.

... Was there actually hope for reconciliaton? I wasn't sure whether I was ready for that or not, but it was still killing me.

Killing me.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

After dropping Peter off at his place, Roman parked somewhere along my dimly lit street as the moonlight shone down on us, not yet wanting me to leave. He glanced over at me, watching me picking at my nails in nervous habit as my mind raced; even after a long day of fun, I couldn't forget my encounter with Letha. The look in her eyes, the fact that she wanted to finally bury the hatchet-- no, it was impossible to shake that.

Roman shifted, not giving away his true feelings about the ordeal as he scanned the way I shut down. It was clear that he was thinking rather hard about what to say next, clearly not wanting to say the wrong thing. However, something told me he was annoyed as he spoke; "Is it not enough for you?"

My brows drew together in confusion, meeting his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Roman shrugged; "Us. This,"

"What?" I sat up in my seat, eyes widening. This was certainly not a conversation I thought we would be having a week into our relationship. "I'm confused--"

"If you're so easily swayed by Letha, it can't be enough. Right?" Roman's gaze hardened, and it didn't take long before I recognized this was a pattern-- the second he felt his position was threatened, he simply got angry. "I'm trying not to be pushy about sex, I'm being open about my feelings or whatever, but you want to run right back to her!"

I blinked twice, baffled. "I'm not sure I want to, but what does it matter to you?--"

"You really think she'd be okay with us being together if you become friends again?" Roman's grip on the steering wheel tightened as his jaw clenched, clearly bothered by his next thoughts; "She'd make you choose."

My heart hurt-- I didn't expect him to make such conclusions. Still, I gathered my thoughts, realizing I was witnessing one of his fits of panic that he didn't know how to put into words; "Okay, you know what? You taught me a little something a week ago, and now I'm going to see if it works. Look at me, please,"

Roman didn't budge; instead, his grip around the steering wheel tightened, and I saw he was holding his breath.

"Rome?"

A hum.

"Look at me,"

Reluctantly, he finally did. His chest rose and fell in sharp moves, clearly trying to collect himself and his impending outburst of anger. Like this, Roman was more handsome than ever-- something about how dark he got weirdly made my head buzz.

Still, I knew I had two more steps to go; I reached out to brush the strand of hair lying over his forehead, stroking my fingers through his dark locks in an attempt to bring him back down to earth. Roman's jaw remained clenched as he met my eyes, still not letting his guard down despite his pupils widening at the sight of me.

I ran my hand down his face, stroking my thumb across his cheek as I watched him keen against my palm. It seemed to be calming him down, and I let out a long sigh of relief to see it working.

Now, to the last part-- "Then I just have to say what I want, right?"

Roman seemed to catch onto what I was doing as he gave in to a small nod. The usual shimmer in his eyes returned, intrigue brewing in his green gaze; "That's how it usually goes, yeah,"

I did my best not to laugh-- something about the way he held his breath, waiting for my next words, was so ridiculously cute. Roman Godfrey, the man of the hour, the menace, my hallway crush for as long as I could remember, was nervous. A puddle of anxiety in my hands.

And he had no idea.

"You think I went through all this shit just to throw you away?" My fingers gently trailed over his softening face, watching his every move. The weight of my next words was something I felt leave my chest the second I finally spelled them out; "You've got me, Roman. All of me. Nothing Letha ever does or says will change that, and she knows that. You have nothing to be nervous about, seriously."

What ensued caught me off guard like never before-- I didn't expect Roman to lean forward and kiss me the way he did, with passion that nearly took my breath away. The usual warmth swelled in my chest as his plush lips pressed against mine, and a mix of the night air and his touch made me shiver beneath the moonlight. It started out light; his hand trailed up from my neck, twisting into the nape of my neck, bringing me closer with a burning need I didn't see in him very often.

Then it hit me that I hadn't ever put much thought into how hard it was to make out in a car. However, Roman was a man of many solutions-- I let in a shaky breath as our lips disconnected, but it was quickly knocked out again when his arms wrapped around me and lifted me out of my seat. I let out a loud squeak, instinctively clinging onto Roman as he somehow managed to sit me on top of him in the driver's seat, laughing against the kiss he pulled me into.

My heart was racing, arms still draped around him in a protective hold as he pushed back the steering wheel as much as he could, downright giggling against my lips. I had never kissed someone while having a laughing fit, but as I joined in on Roman's, I realized how much of a high it was.

"Your face," he laughed in between playful nips, hands trailing down to grab my waist.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him away and get a proper look at him as he grinned up at me. Had it been up to me, I would've frozen this moment and kept it tucked away in my freezer, knowing it would never melt away there. Roman's eyes were illuminated by a nearby lamp, the orange hues mixing in with his green, making them a yellow-y brown; almost the same colour as his hair which was soft to the touch today, and not gelled up like usual. The way he looked at me with joy, the ultimate show of affection, nearly made me gelatin in his arms.

Oh, and the laugh-- the fucking laugh. The gorgeous, deep laugh, which would definitely etch itself into my mind, ready to be replayed on bad days.

I got my hands out of his hair, cupping his face as I cocked a brow; "Yeah, what about my face?"

Roman sighed, his signature smirk on display. I expected him to say something either dirty or stupid like the usual, but instead, he opted to take my breath away once more with the following-- he went quiet, eyes rounding out as he took the time to scan my every feature, every movement, as though I was a beautiful, rare diamond; "It's gorgeous,"

My lips parted, staring back at him with a dumbfounded expression. I was ready to say something, pull myself together, until I realized I didn't have to anymore-- Roman was my boyfriend.

Roman was my boyfriend.

I didn't have to pull myself together. I could go absolutely mad, if I wanted to.

... And somehow, I found myself wanting to drive myself to complete and utter madness.

I had no idea what came over me when I placed my hands on each side of his face, slowly driving them up into his hair as I pressed my lips against him in an open, desperate kiss. Roman hummed (was that a moan?), his hands trailing down into my back pockets as he pressed me further up against him, none of us giving a damn about the fact that we were parked on a street and that anyone could walk by at any moment despite how deserted the neighborhood was so late at night.

It took a turn as Roman sunk his teeth into my bottom lip, eliciting a small whimper. The fingers I had in his hair tightened around his dark locks as a need for friction built between my legs, and when Roman drew my hips forward to meet his, I didn't fight-- instead, I was quite sure I moaned.

My cheeks burned with the realization, but I didn't have much time to think about it. I was drawn further into a state of arousal as he got his hands out of my pockets, his big hands grabbing my ass properly as his hips bucked up to meet mine through our clothes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-- my brain was in such a state of overdrive, I didn't think twice before lightly sucking down on the tip of Roman's tongue, feeling him let out a shaky breath against me.

The gentle breeze of the night poked at my clouded mind, reminding me of where we were, that I had a curfew to get to. I disconnected our lips, hearing Roman sigh; "We shouldn't," I tried, shifting as I pulled my jacket over my shoulder-- it was in this moment that I realized that he was hard. My heart fluttered with delight as I realized I could feel his cock swell with growing interest, feel him keen against me, separated by just a few layers-- my eyes widened, meeting his. Something told me it was a little too late to back down now.

Roman hummed, his breathing slowing down as he grinned up at me; "Yeah, you might be right... But why do the right thing when you can do the fun thing?" His fingers reached for my jacket, almost taking it off again. When my skin was exposed once more, he leaned forward, gently pressing his lips against my collarbones.

I was going to push him away, remind him of our surroundings-- but as I felt Roman swipe his tongue along my skin with every kiss, I couldn't. Every touch, every kiss, made the buzzing in my mind louder.

My breath hitched, fingers running back up into his hair as his kisses trailed further down my skin. It felt as though my hands were on fire, arousal burning through my veins as my heart thumped loudly in my chest. I wanted him so bad, I didn't think twice before I rolled my hips down against his hard cock, hearing Roman let out a grunt before he finally took the liberties to force a repetition of my actions with his hands on my ass.

This was bad; so, so bad. I knew I was done for when I shifted, the pressure against my clit only dulling my mind further. The slight tremble that appeared in my knees made me reach for the seat, no longer feeling steady; "Rome," I tried, feeling my desperation grow as his hungry kisses trailed down my shirt.

"Shh... Just a little more," Roman's hands pressed against my back, pulling me flush against him. I nearly let out a whine as I realized he was dangerously close to the hem of my bra, and I had to take a quick look around the area to make sure no one was seeing this. "Roman--"

"You have no idea how long I've thought about having you like this," he said, voice low as his hands slowly moved up my body. "You were always so against the idea of fucking in my car... Makes me want to show you how good it could be."

I felt my face redden, burning with a mix of shock and intrigue. In fact, I was so out of it that I barely registered the moment Roman's hand reached for my bra, pulling one cup to the side to grab a handful of my chest--

Squeaking in shock, I didn't have time to push him off before he leaned forward, licking a wet stripe up my hardening bud. My face was practically on fire, squirming in his grip as a shaky moan escaped my lips.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes meeting mine to keep my gaze locked on him as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against my breast. My breath hitched, not yet used to this feeling-- it felt as though I was getting electrocuted all the way down to my clit with every flick of his tongue.

This was definitely the most risky thing I had ever done in my life. I never thought I would be doing anything like this on an open street and that I wouldn't be fighting it. Nonetheless, I let out a broken moan as my hands went up into his hair, my fingers twisting further into Roman's dark locks as his lips wrapped around me once more, sucking me in between his lips.

As the tremble in my legs worsened, I pulled him away from me, watching as his half-lidded green eyes shimmered with lust. "Christ," I breathed, quickly pulling my top back into place. "I'm no better than your cheerleader whores, at this point."

Roman clearly didn't expect me to say that, laughing as his hands now rested on my hips. "I haven't even done anything yet," he cooed, tracing circles into my jeans. "But actually, this reminds me there was one thing you told me you'd do..."

My eyes widened as he reached forward to clasp his fingers around my wrists. Of all the things I thought he'd do, this was certainly not it-- I felt my breath hitch once more as Roman pressed my trembling hands against his clothed, hard cock.

Oh God. "Not here!" I tried, hoping to slow down the beating of my heart. "I can't-- Fuck, Rome, I wouldn't even know what to do!"

Roman bit his lip, mostly to not laugh right in my face. The amusement in his eyes told me all I needed to know; "You think I haven't taken that into account? I know you haven't done this before,"

"And you're still up for it...?"

Roman's eyes widened, looking rather bewildered. "Are you kidding me? I'd be up for it during a fucking terrorist attack, believe me,"

That was not an image I wanted to have in my head. Oh, Roman and his antics-- "Shut up," I mumbled, feeling myself grow more anxious. Anyone could walk by right now, and my parents were definitely wondering where on earth I was.

"You shut up,"

I gasped, my eyes narrowing at the sight of Roman's grin; "Hah! Make me,"

"Sure," he said, shrugging. "You might moan a little, though."

I was tempted to freeze up until a reflex I didn't know I had kicked in-- shifting, I put my hand on his thigh to support myself as the one he had put over his hard-on reached for his zipper. "Don't fuck with me, Godfrey. I might just retaliate,"

I watched all the air in Roman's lungs seep out through his mouth as his green eyes burned into mine, a look of surprise streaking across his face which quickly morphed into intrigue. "Shit," he breathed. "I've broken you already, haven't I? Who are you, and what have you done to my girl?"

I couldn't help but smile-- this was something I could certainly get used to. "Breaking me is going to take a lot more, don't you worry,"

"Really, now?" Shifting, Roman's face was mere inches away from mine. The night air flowed through his hair in a soft breeze, his parted lips looking more enticing than ever-- I longed for them to be kiss-swollen once more. He gently nudged his nose against mine, hovering to drag out the tension as I held my breath in anticipation for his next words; "I'm dying to put that to the test... Can't wait to see you all pretty and broken, whimpering while I fuck you."

I hadn't been so flustered in my life-- I struggled to catch my breath, succumbing to a nervous laugh. Roman was so damn intense, I didn't know how to recover. To put the cherry on top, I had subconsciously tightened my grip around his clothed hard-on, and I heard him let out a shaky breath against me.

I couldn't look at Roman for too long-- I was afraid I'd melt. The green in his eyes swallowed me, drawing me in, enticing me to say yes, but I knew I couldn't. Not right now, at least. Instead, I forced myself to remember that we were on an open street once again, and that I really needed to get home soon.

It was too early for all of that, anyway.

"Oh, you and your dirty mouth," I breathed, leaning forward to press a short kiss against his keening lips. My hands lifted off him, resting at his shoulders. "For someone that insists they're not pushy about sex, you sure talk a lot about it."

Roman sighed, catching onto the fact that I was ready to leave. "I said I'm trying. But I'm open to the possibility that I might be failing," His grip on my hips tightened, pulling me closer with a pout. "Don't leave just yet. Stay."

If it had been up to me, I would've stayed in this moment forever. "My parents are going to kill me," I said, pressing another kiss against his lips, feeling him smile against me. "We have school tomorrow, anyway--"

"Stay," Roman's arms wrapped around me in a strong hold, engulfing me in his seductive cologne. "Just kiss me a little more, and I might consider letting you go in about three hours or so."

I rolled my eyes, giggling against him. "Come on, you're not making it easy for me here!--"

"Exactly,"

"Rome, I--" As my phone rang in my jacket on the passenger seat, I let out a sigh of relief; "Okay, that's definitely my parents calling. I'm about to be grilled like a turkey at Thanksgiving, thank you very much!"

Roman huffed as I placed a kiss against his forehead, letting go of me with a disappointed snort before he leaned over, handing me my phone.

I did my best not to get too swept up in his puppy eyes, knowing I was two seconds away from staying in the car with him all night. However, I knew it would definitely not end well for my sanity. So as I turned my phone around, ready to answer my parents and start explaining why I was so late, I froze when I saw who the actual caller was.

Roman's demeanour immediately changed-- something told me he already knew. Still, he asked; "Who is it?"

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuck!

"... It's Letha,"

(a/n: if you've come this far, thank you so so much!!! here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9 if you want to check them out!!<3333)

just tagging a few people that seemed interested!!<3:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #angst #toxic relationship #highschool!au #vampire x you #peter rumancek #hemlock grove fanfiction #bruhhh letha is killing me here #i'm doing this to myself tho #letha godfrey

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personasintro · 1 year ago

Text

Mutual Help | #01

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k+

𝐚/𝐧: this bombass comeback wouldn't be as amazing and special if it weren't for @kithtaehyung who made the best new mh banner anyone could ever make!!! ryen, thank you bub so much for putting up with my indecisive ass and taking the time to make not only this banner but different versions before that! I truly appreciate it and I'm thankful you're a part of this!!

ogs know this one is reposted but I hope everyone will enjoy it whether they're rereading it or reading for the first time! lastly, thank you for the endless love and support, i love y'all ♡

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

The hallway looks exactly the same, which there isn't any reason why it should look different all of a sudden, but considering you haven't been in this building for the past few weeks just makes you want to notice the slightest change. But there is none. It still smells sterile with a little bit of sweetness which reminds you of cinnamon. You're not sure why, nor do you really dwell on it too much.

You could imagine your Thursday evening differently, which means laying down as soon as you come home and turn on Netflix, trying to spend at least twenty minutes finding a good show. That's been your routine for weeks now, but you're not complaining. It feels that void of loneliness in your smart one bedroom apartment.

Although, you can't help but feel nervous when you picture the message you got from Jimin.

'come to Jungkook's, he needs us'

He never explained anything further, nor replied to the tons of your messages or missed calls. You wouldn't be on the edge, if you've seen or heard from Jungkook. Apart from some occasional messages like 'what's up' or 'what were you doing today?', your communication went downhill. But you don't blame him or yourself for it. You were both busy and probably still are, to even hangout like you always used to.

It bothered you for some time, not hanging out with your best friend like you used to. But you've grown used to that small but painful fact that you don't have to see each other every day. Plus, after some time you've realized, you can still be best friends with someone without having to chat with them 24/7. Gratefulness is how you'd describe your feelings. Grateful that your friendship works, even though you don't get to spend your time with each other that often.

Your knuckles meet the wood of Jungkook's front door in a gentle manner, which is a complete opposite of your inside feelings as you've this weird feeling inside of you. The message Jimin sent you was weird and you haven't heard from anyone since then.

And when the door finally opens, you're glad you're met with Jimin himself as he stares at you with hopeful eyes and a breath of relief that escapes his plush lips. You rush inside, already taking off your shoes and jacket while you confusingly stare at your friend that looks more than relieved to see you.

"What the hell happened? You never texted me back." you tell him, or more like scold him rather than properly greet him.

"Ah, sorry," he cringes, pulling out his phone before he notices the bunch of messages and missed calls from you. "It's just—"

"This is bullshit."

The grumpy and raspy voice unintentionally cuts him off, booming inside of the apartment causing your ears to naturally perk up. Is it just you or his voice got deeper? You look at Jimin with a questioning gaze, who sees the confusion on your features as you hear Jungkook's grumpy and annoyed voice. Rather than explaining something to you, he sighs and with a quick cock of his head towards the living room, you both walk inside.

You're surprised when you see Taehyung there as well, opening a beer can before he pushes it into Jungkook's hands. Surprisingly, the mentioned guy is slouched on his beige couch, wearing one of his baggy shirts and loose sweatpants with his hair looking like he hasn't brushed them for days.

Taehyung's eyes meet yours as soon as you step in, noticing the mess around including two pizza boxes thrown on the floor and empty cans of coke and beer on the coffee table. "Oh, thank god!" Taehyung breathes out the same sigh of relief, causing you to greet him with a confused 'hello'.

Although, you don't wait for any reaction because your best friend finally acknowledges your presence in his home, head lazily turning in your direction as you walk up to him.

"Great," he mutters, almost rolling eyes at the sight of you. "Who called her?" he eyes the two of his best friends, scoffing before he takes a gulp of the beer that Taehyung handed him.

"What kind of reaction is that, asshole?" you react right away, frowning at your best friend that hasn't seen you for weeks and this is his first reaction.

"Don't mind him, please. He's just a little bit drunk right now." Jimin quickly jumps into an action, noticing your fireback and unappreciative tone that's aimed at none other than Jungkook himself.

He rolls his eyes at Jimin words, but doesn't say anything else before Taehyung watches you with cautious doe eyes. He sits in a chair, arm leaned against his knee as he anxiously bites his nails even though he tries to act casual. You don't buy it.

"What the fuck is going on?" you ask them, pointing towards Jungkook that looks like a truck just hit him.

Jimin opens his mouth, but Jungkook glares at him which ends up with him shutting it right away and when you look at Taehyung, he doesn't even spare you a glance.

"Which one of you called her?" Jungkook speaks up, eyeing the two of his friends as they point to each other causing you to snort. Cowards. "I'm fine. I don't see a reason why you make such a big deal out of this. I'm fine."

The fact that he had to repeat the same sentence twice, just proves that no — he's not fine. And before the wheels in your head start to work and roll, Jimin's voice speaks up in a clear, yet quick tempo.

"Kiko broke up with Jungkook."

The room goes silent, faint sounds coming out of the television are filling out the thick silence in the room as Jungkook freezes, not even glaring at his friend that apologetically shrugs at him.

One of the reasons why you haven't got to see your best friend that often is, that he simply found a girlfriend. Trying to combine his work, personal love life and you was already hard. But you get it. You're not mad or annoyed at him, because the two of you still kept in touch. It was just a matter of time until some of you found someone and naturally, there wouldn't be that much time to spend your days together. It was bound to happen and you knew Jungkook would be the first one to find someone.

He's your best friend, but you're not blind. He's one of the most handsome guys you've ever met, not just that but his personality is something that most girls would fall for. His attitude is pissy right now and now, you know the true reason behind it. But the Jungkook you know, is one of the most caring people you know. And not only that, but he's funny, intelligent and perfect at almost everything. He's the whole package and any girl would be lucky to snatch him.

And that girl, or perhaps you should say a woman, happened to be Kiko. A Japanese beauty that their mutual friend introduced them to one another. It clicked off immediately. Even you've noticed it when Jungkook Rain checked almost every plan you had together. He started to stare into his phone with all those puppy heart eyes whenever she texted him. At first, you found it annoying because it was just plain rude, watching him text her every five seconds instead of trying to hang out with you. But then, you just stopped caring and whenever you went silent, he'd just pushed his phone away and tried to gain your attention.

It was stupid, because you knew if you gave him attitude or silent treatment, he would just feel bad and tried to focus on you. Until the both of you stopped hanging out with each other that much.

"She did?" you mutter, staring at Jungkook who stares in front of him with a wiped out gaze. You've never seen him in this kind of state. "I'm sorry, Kook."

"Yeah, well, shit happens." he grumbles, clenching his jaw as he takes another gulp of beer that's securely clenched in his hand.

You've seen Jungkook having a couple of girlfriends, but you know that his relationship with Kiko was different. He wasn't just any girlfriend that he tried to get to know, she was someone that he completely fell for and couldn't stop talking about. He's in love. And even though he's being an ass to his friends right now, it's just his coping mechanism and you know that whatever Jimin and Taehyung has been doing, hasn't helped much. He plays tough right now, hiding his true feelings under this cold and uninterested facade but you know him better.

And when he keeps glancing at you before he quickly looks away, it's almost as if he can hear your exact thoughts.

"Well," you hastily speak, clapping your hands together as you lightly smile at everyone in the room. "You don't wanna date anyone whose name is Kiko." you try to joke, a laugh and snort erupting from Jimin and Taehyung who has obviously found your little joke funny.

Jungkook on the other hand, looks even more pissed off because he never looked at you with so much anger and annoyance as he's looking right now, causing you to squirm in your spot. "Real class, Y/N." he barks at you, causing you to slump in defeat before Jimin squeezes your shoulders in comfort.

"I brought you banana milk. I didn't know what happened, so I thought this would be a nice and quick save." you lightly tell him, sitting at the end of the couch, next to his sprawled legs but he doesn't move them away.

"Jeez, I'm not some fucking kid. Banana milk won't fix my broken heart." he scoffs, shaking his head while the three of you are even surprised that he just admitted that he has a broken heart. Well, clearly but since he's been putting up this tough act, it still comes as a shock. Judging by the look of Jimin's and Taehyung's face, they seem to think the same thing.

"I know that, Kook," you quietly tell him, hastily grabbing one of his ankles as you squeeze it in a manner to comfort him. He doesn't budge, that means something. "Is there anything we can do for you?" you ask him, not really sure if he's even going to answer that.

His brows furrow while he fumbles with his fingers, the slightest pout adoring his small lips as he thinks your question through. The three of you watch him with curious eyes, wondering what the hell is this guy thinking of. He looks at you, then at Jimin and Taehyung before he softly sighs.

"I mean... there's nothing you guys can do." he says softly, taking another gulp of beer that tastes like piss. Korean beer is just not good, and you're surprised that Jungkook even drinks it. But he never had any problem with any alcohol, that man can drink and eat anything.

There's nothing you can think of that could possibly help him out of his heartbreak. The only thing for you to do, is to be there for him. And if drinking a beer that tastes like piss is some kind of twisted way of helping him, you're in. So, you reach out and grab one of the unopened cans before you open it with a loud 'click', taking a gulp of it.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook sits up, staring at your scrunched nose and distaste written all over your face.

"Drinking with you." you shrug, taking another huge gulp of it. The more you drink it, the less it tastes awful.

"But you hate this beer." he reminds you, scowling at you and your nonstop gulping, hand twitching to get it away from you.

"I know," you shrug, grinning at him. "It doesn't taste that bad. Now come on," you nudge him with your leg, raising your can to him. "Cheers." you call out to him, ignoring his big doe eyes that stare at you with a slight confusion before he sighs.

"Cheers." he mutters, clicking his can against yours before the both of you take another gulp.

The two of you are completely unaware of your friends' faces that are washed with relief and knowing eyes as they stare at you and Jungkook. All it took was just to call you to save the day. Jungkook might not be in his greatest mood or show his appreciation for you to be there for him, but drinking without constant complaining and cursing is still a better result that Jimin and Taehyung managed to get.

"I've never thought I'd ever drink this much of this piss beer." you croak out, putting another empty can onto Jungkook's messy coffee table. You sit back, head falling onto his shoulder as you silently inhale his scent. It always reminded you of his fabric softener that smells like a baby, mixed with his cologne that is very faint on his clothes.

"How do you know what piss tastes like?" Jungkook asks, raising his brow at you while the corner of his lips twitches in amusement. "Do you wanna tell me about your weird kinks?" he cocks his head at you, causing you to groan as you hit his shoulder but it does nothing to him, he doesn't even budge.

A chuckle roars in the back of his throat, a first sound that can be considered as a positive emotion.

"It's not like that." you mutter, growing embarrassed at the thought of Jungkook thinking about your kinks. Not that you know about them that much. You might think there are some things you might like, but you never had anyone to try it with. How possibly could you know? But the idea of you having a piss kink, or whatever that's called, makes you want to gag. Maybe it's the beer or just a single thought of it, who knows.

Jimin and Taehyung already left, once they saw Jungkook loosening up, they took that chance to go home and leave the two of you alone. Not even once he talked about his heartbreak, you silently watched a TV show that Jungkook turned on whilst drinking a beer and munching on some crackers that Taehyung handed you before they left.

Glancing at Jungkook, his face is illuminated from the screen whilst he's watching a TV show with slightly furrowed brows. And when it finally stops, he sighs and grabs the remote to browse through some other movies and TV shows. He keeps browsing through them for a couple of minutes, muttering a pair of curses when he can't find anything he likes. You turn on the lamp in the very corner of his living room, causing him to frown even more from the sudden light.

You sit next to him, staring at him as he sighs and looks back at you. "What?" he asks unbothered, the remote still clutched in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Kook," you tell him silently, reaching for his shoulder which you squeeze in comfort, like you previously did with his ankle. "I know that you loved her."

And you see his facade crack, when he sucks his bottom lip as he quickly looks away from you to blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. You've never seen him this vulnerable.

"Love," he mutters, causing you to let out a confused 'huh?' in response. "Not loved her, but love. I still love her." he corrects you.

"Why did she break up with you? You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable enough, but you guys seemed so close together."

It doesn't make any sense. Jungkook kept talking about her even through your messages, and you could practically feel the happiness radiating from his single messages. His whole Instagram is filled with their pictures, or just single shots of Kiko that Jungkook has taken and captioned with a single heart emoji. You've never seen him being so in love before. That's when you've realized that Kiko is different from any other women that Jungkook was seeing.

You don't push him into answering, the last thing you want for him is to get upset with you. But you can't keep walking around eggshells for this whole night.

"Apparently, she just wants some time for herself. She wants to explore other things, whatever the fuck that means." he bitterly chuckles, eyes filled with anger but you know it's just hidden hurt.

"Maybe you'll find someone else, Kook. You're still young."

Scoffing, he shakes his head. "She's the love of my life. I really doubt there's someone else for me. I was about to ask her to move in with me."

Shit, he's really serious about her.

"You did?"

He nods, biting onto his lower lip before he lets it go, fumbling his eyes before he sighs in defeat. "I love her." he whispers, his voice sounding so vulnerable that it makes your heart clench.

You go straight into hugging him, enveloping his huge body to yours as he starts to cry into your chest. For the first time, he finally breaks in front of someone else rather than himself. He clutches to your body, tears wetting your shirt but you don't mind it, grabbing him even tighter. He cries, something he doesn't usually do in front of everyone. You realize how he kept holding himself in front of Taehyung and Jimin when all he wanted was to cry it out.

"It's okay, you're going to be okay." you tell him, cheeks pressed against his hair that got super long since you've last seen him.

He sniffles, wiping his eyes before he slightly pulls away. "It happened two weeks ago and I'm still such a fucking mess." he scoffs at himself.

"Two weeks ago?" you exclaim, surprised by the new information. "It happened two weeks ago and I know just... now?"

He glares at you and you quickly shut your mouth. "Not everything is about you, Y/N." he reminds you.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to curse at him for being so rude but then you remember his state. He's just hurt and in a way, he's right. "No, that's not what I meant. I just... I'm surprised that you didn't tell me sooner. If it weren't for Jimin, I don't think I'd be here right now." you explain, thinking about all possibilities that could happen.

"I was going to," he mutters, reaching for a bottle of water instead as he takes a few gulps. "But I needed some time to myself. I didn't want anyone to see me like this." he points out towards his slightly puffed eyes.

You just wished he'd tell you sooner. But you don't tell him that. It's not selfish to think that, because you just wanted to be there for him sooner. Nobody should go through such a heartbreak alone. Not when he has you and other two friends willing to be there for him.

"You know that you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here for you." you remind him, flushed cheeks when you see his eyes already set on you.

The friendship between you and Jungkook is mostly surrounded with you teasing each other and in a way, he's like an older brother to you. You don't get all sentimental with each other, even though you're always there for one another. It's an unspoken rule and natural feeling that your friendship has.

"I know," he says softly, giving you the best little smile he can muster. "And I'm so grateful for that. I know I was acting like an asshole and I'm sorry, I just... I'm really happy that you're here."

You don't get to hear such words often, especially coming out of Jungkook's mouth, but that's why you're even more pleased to hear them.

You smile back at him, silently thanking him and also saying that it's okay and you get it. It's quiet for a moment. Jungkook fumbles with his fingers as you silently watch him, noticing a few new tattoos that decorate his honey skin.

"Y/N?" he asks suddenly, causing you to hum in return. " You know when you asked me, if there's something you could do for me?"

"Oh, boy. What is it this time?" you joke, causing him to silently chuckle under his breath.

What could he possibly want to know? The last time he wanted something from you, was to clean his whole apartment because he twisted his ankle. But whatever that comes out of his mouth next, never occurred to you before.

"Can you pretend to be my girlfriend?"

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #mutual help

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berberriescorner · 1 year ago

Note

pregnant sexs w rio

I had to sit and think of which direction I wanted to take this in. Whew, chileee! Way too many scenarios are playing in my mind. This man😩😍!

I'm going to keep it a stack with y'all. This turned into a whole-ass fic.

Sit back, buckle up, and prep yourself for the trip my imagination's about to take you on♥️. Love, comments, and reblogs are appreciated, lovelies💞.

A/N: Sexual frustration and prolonged foreplay ahead. If that's not your vibe. You may want to skip out on this one. A couple of twists and flips here and there. I hope you lovelies enjoy what I did with this♥️. Just a heads up, I really got into this one, so it's going to be pretty lengthy. Worked on it for a while. Even made a damn mood board...I couldn't resist.

One More Note: A polite, gentle reminder that I don't usually take requests. If you float something in my ask that I just can't resist. I will give in here and there. In other words, if you don't get a response, please don't take it personally.

If you missed any other ask about dad!rio or hubby!rio, they're all listed on my Masterlist under Rio Asks/Headcanons (in order). Enjoy my lovelies! Feel free to love, comment, and share🥰.

Song Inspo💜:

"Let's Go Little Kitty-Kat"

Livid. Irritable. Restless. Each one of these words perfectly describes your current mood. The kids had begged to spend their spring break with Rio’s grandmother. Marcus was spending his time off with her, and his siblings loved to follow big brother’s every move. You weren’t surprised that they wanted to be wherever he was. It didn’t hurt that their great-grandmother spoiled them rotten and gave them whatever their hearts desired. Even your sweet baby boy left his momma in the dust. That wasn’t the reason for your foul mood (though being in this big, empty house didn’t help).

You were angrily resting on the couch, a permanent pout etched on your face. You huffed loudly as your husband’s voice sounded on the other end of the phone call.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

Silence.

“Mama,” he sighed.

You were willing to bet any amount of money that Rio’s hand was running down his face right now. Were you overreacting? Possibly. Maybe even being a bit unreasonable? Probably so. Did you give a damn? Not at all. Blame it on the hormones.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re pissed off–again? That’s two days in a row, mama. I’ve still yet to figure out the reason behind yesterday's bad attitude. Normally, I don’t let that shit slide, but I understand you’re emo-.”

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“And you’re going to do what, darlin’,” he questioned, voice laced with a hint of warning. Rio chuckled sarcastically, “I got a lot going on right now. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult. Ready to get back on your grown woman shit.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

You knew your behavior was coming off as petty, but too much pent-up frustration kept you from acting like a rational human being. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck as you recalled yesterday's events.

You lay awake in bed, your body vibrating with lust. The day had dragged by slowly as your need for Rio grew more and more. You changed positions so many times your head scarf came undone.

“If I can just manage to wait up at least another hour. Maybe Rio will get here soon enough to put my ass to bed.”

Nope. The tiny human growing in your womb pulled you into a deep slumber.

By the time Rio reached the threshold of your master bedroom. You were snuggled deep into the covers with pillows surrounding you. His shoulders lowered with a hint of disappointment. Rio knew you wanted him home, even if you hadn't said the words aloud. He could sense the attitude and frustration in your voice when he called to tell you not to wait up. Rio had tried his hardest to get home hours ago, but with every attempt at leaving came more matters that required his attention. He lowered himself to your sleeping form. Adjusting your scarf so it wouldn’t slip off, Rio softly pecked your nose and cheek. After a quick shower, he carefully climbed into his side of the bed, gently pulling two of the many pillows from behind your back. It took some effort, but he managed to cuddle up to you and delicately pull you into him. You stirred for a few moments but quickly fell back into a deep sleep. Your husband watched, smirking at the light snores you released.

“Night, Mama. Love you,” he whispered, kissing your neck.

The following morning, you woke up. Still horny as hell. You rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. He had been there. Rio’s side of the bed looked slept in. Your head turned in the direction of your en suite. Not a peep sounded. He wasn’t in there.

Maybe he’s downstairs. I should fix him something before he heads out. Perhaps he could eat me for breakfast. These freaking pregnancy hormones are out of control. Every waking moment, I feel like swallowing this man whole. When I’m not hungry, I’m horny. When I’m not fiending for my husband, I want to eat everything in sight. Fucking Rio. The dick just doesn’t miss. He shoots the club up every.single.time.

You smiled at your small bump, rubbing soft circles at the sides. Honestly, you didn’t mind being pregnant for the fifth time, but for your sanity (and the kids), this would be your last. If Rio wanted more babies, he had better find a damn good surrogate. Mama’s tired.

Does this man not realize he’ll have to pay for three, possibly four, weddings? Who am I kidding? In his mind, Rio probably believes he’ll be able to chase off any and every potential love interest. He’s in for a rude awakening. My dad didn’t like his ass at first. I have a (legally) pistol-toting father as well. That didn’t stop shit. Now look at us: marriage and a gang of children.

Pregnancy turned you into an impatient woman. When you wanted something, there was no convincing you different.

In your thoughts, the bedroom door crept open. Rio’s head peeked inside. He noticed you sitting on the side of the bed and stepped into the room. He swaggered over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. His voice was low, and restlessness lingered in his tone.

“Morning, Mama. You sleep alright,” he asked as his fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head back for a kiss. His rough, calloused fingers danced along your jawline, trailing low enough to graze the outside of your breast. He smiled as you gasped against his lips.

The kiss started sweet, turning into hunger in mere seconds. You tried tugging your husband down onto the bed. Rio pulled back, pecking your lips a few times, before standing upright, hand slowly stroking the inner part of your thigh. With just a few inches, he would've been dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

“I had to come to kiss my beautiful wife before heading out. I need to slide, mama. I’ve got a lot on my plate today. It's going to be hectic, and shit might get active. I ordered you some breakfast. It’ll be here soon. I’ll probably get in late tonight. Don’t wait up for me. Make sure you and my baby get some rest. Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“Love you too, Papa,” you exhaled.

You watched him leave and groaned with irritation.

It would be two nights in a row that he’d be coming in late at night. That typically wouldn’t be an issue. You had grown used to it throughout the years. The only time it became a problem was when you were in your current state: knocked up, horny, and hormonal. It was just something that switched in your brain during these times. You wanted all Rio’s attention. The need to have him buried deep inside you was high, and you couldn’t quite get your fill of him.

Several attempts to distract yourself throughout the day had failed miserably. No matter what you did, your thoughts always redirected themselves back to Rio and sex. You made one last effort to ignore the constant need to devour your husband. Turning Apple Music on shuffle, you opened a magazine and thumbed through it. Unfortunately, the universe wasn't on your side. Every song was more explicit than the previous one. A frustrated sigh fell from your lips as you shut the music off.

Enough is enough. Hubby won’t come to me, but rest assured I can go to him.

You padded to your bedroom closet, looking for a sexy little number. Slipping on a pair of Steve Madden heels, you snatched up your car keys. You set forth on a journey to Rio. Bringing him lunch would be your excuse for showing up unannounced. That reason, however, wasn't enough to prevent the lecture you received from an overprotective husband, Rio. As if that wasn’t enough, you also caught shit from your meddlesome bodyguard/homie, Mick. He escorted you into the warehouse when you arrived.

“Boss lady, you know you’re not supposed to be here,” he instigated.

“Mick, hush. I can bring my husband some lunch. Chill on me.”

“Alright, but you already know. The boss won’t be happy you're out, running around for him.”

“I went to get him some takeout. I didn’t even get out of the car. It was a curbside pickup.”

You were about to continue the debate when Rio’s voice sounded behind you.

“Mama.”

How could one little word send your body into a frenzy? You could sense both curiosity and a little anger in his tone. Mick stood there smirking at you. He knew what was about to go down. It was one thing for you to be out and about with no security detail. That was enough to put you in hot water. The fact that you were pregnant pushed his disappointment to another level.

“Mick, that thing we were about to take care of? Start without me. I need a few moments with my wife.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you a ‘good luck’ smirk on his way out. You turned your attention to Rio after the door closed. His jaw ticked as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What did I tell you about leaving the house with no security detail? You’re supposed to be at home relaxing. What are you even doing out and about? I specifically told you I’d be busy today. You know that’s code for business dealings. Your ass shouldn’t be anywhere near this warehouse right now.”

“I just wanted to bring you lunch, Papa. I needed to see that handsome face,” you replied in your best baby voice.

“Nah, that little voice and smile ain’t cutting it right now. Why are you so damn hardheaded?”

Now you were starting to get a little pissed. It was understandable that Rio was always concerned for your safety, but what choice did you have? Several, you had several. It just couldn’t wait. Yes, you were slightly irritated by his reaction, but the ache in your core grew even more being in his presence. The scent of his cologne wafted through the air. With just one sniff, you could feel your nipples harden.

These hormones are so out of control. I need this man to wreck my shit. The sooner, the better.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to plead your case.

“But baby-”

“Listen. I’m too busy to have this argument with you right now.”

Rio closed the distance between you and placed his hands on either side of your face. He angrily sighed and pecked your lips.

“I appreciate the gesture, Mama, but please listen to me next time.”

You bit your lip, looking at him apologetically. Snaking your arms around his body, you allowed him to engulf you in a hug. Wrapped tightly in his embrace, Rio caught you off guard, giving you a hard swat on the bottom. His voice was low and gravelly as he growled, “You're trouble, Mama.”

You moaned, pushing your backside deeper into his palms. Eyes drifted shut as you stood on your tiptoes and puckered your lips for a kiss. Rio’s hands caressed the soft, plush globes as his breath fanned your lips. He denied your request for a kiss. Instead, his lips ghosted your neck, and his mouth traveled to your ear. Nipping at your lobe, he rasped, “Sorry, mama. We don’t have time for that. I have to go handle business.”

He pulled away, smirking at the frown that quickly shifted to a pout.

“We can’t spend just a few more minutes together?”

“Don’t do that, ma. You know this is important. Since you’re already out and ignoring my demands, why don’t you spend some time with your best friend? Here, take my card. Lunch is on me.”

This man is so preoccupied with business. He doesn’t even see that I came here to give him a piece of pussy. For some reason, that irritates the hell out of me. Usually, he can read my body like a book. I see where his priorities are at the moment. Business must trump his pregnant wife’s needs. I gave this man four and a half babies, and this is the thanks I get? Let me take my pregnant, horny, irritated tail home. His ass is sleeping on the couch tonight, and I don’t give one fuck that I’m being irrational.

“Nah, I’m good,” you waved your hand dismissively.

Sensing attitude, Rio tilted his head back, giving you a look of incredulity.

“Look, I ain't got time for the dramatics right now. I told you I would be busy. Go home, mama. We can discuss this in the privacy of our home.”

Cocking your head to the side, you gave him an irritated glare. A rush of pregnancy hormones came hurtling towards you. Snatching your handbag and keys from his desk, you stormed out of the room. Rio knew he struck a nerve and possibly hurt your feelings. Stepping into the hall, he called after you. Ignoring him, you stomped out of the building. With an exasperated sigh, your husband ran his hands over his face. Taking a deep breath did little to soothe the irritation that started festering inside him. It also didn’t help that the idiots working the warehouse floor were ogling your behind as you angrily switched out of the building.

“Y’all got a death wish or something? Fuck you looking at,” Rio barked towards the group of men.

“I suggest you get back to work before I unload the clip in this bitch,” he boomed, walking back into his office to cool down before heading to the meeting.

“She’s almost to her car. Hurry up! Follow her. Keep a watchful eye over her. She’s in her feelings. Make sure my wife and child make it home safe,” he ordered one of his men.

Her ass is out here walking around in those tight-ass jeans. We’re about to have a heated exchange when I get home. Out here showing out. She’s over here pressing on my last nerve and still making me want to put her on her back at the same damn time. Thick-ass. Feisty-ass. Sexy-ass. Spoiled-ass. Hormonal-ass woman.

Rio’s detail only served to anger you more. Pulling into your driveway, you flung the car door open, grabbed your stuff, and turned toward the henchman.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Either wait out here or take your ass back to the warehouse.”

Not waiting for a response, you went into your home. Setting the alarm, you settled in for a quiet, lonesome evening. You had hoped a nice relaxing shower, comfy PJs, and stuffing your face would put you in a better mood. It could have worked, but your husband kept blowing up your phone.

Annoyed by the fourth call, you answered icily, “What can I do for you, dear?”

Rio could hear the sarcasm in your voice. “This what we on tonight?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, husband?”

“Cut the shit, mama. Why are you ignoring my calls?”

“You were oh so busy. I’d imagine that ignoring you would give you more time to concentrate on business, sweetie.”

“You petty as fuck. Stop being mean, mama.”

His mini flirtations went ignored.

This man hasn’t seen petty yet. Watch me work, Daddy.

“What can I do for you, Christopher?”

“Oh, are we using government names now? Bet. Why are you being stubborn?”

Silence.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

Silence.

“Mama,” he sighed.

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

Hours later, you came down from your mood swing. Guilt slowly started to seep into you. Not one to give in and apologize first, you decided it was the right thing to do. Unlocking your phone, you sent a request for FaceTime. It rang twice before being denied.

He’s probably busy. I’ll try again in an hour or so.

The next time you tried his cell, you called. It rang several times before going to voicemail. Waiting another hour, you tried again. Ringing once, it went to voicemail.

Now, wait a fuckin’ minute. One ring means he hit the “f you button.” See, now a bitch is starting to get mad again. Woosah. Fight them mood swings, girl. Fight them!

Just as you had calmed your nerves, a text came through.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: You and the baby good?

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Yes, we’re fine. Why haven’t you called me back? Are you okay?

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: I’m busy, remember? You didn’t feel like talking earlier? Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?

His petty ass.

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Stop making it hard to tell you sorry, Papa. Chill on me.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: Keep your sorry, ma. I’m cool on that. See you when I get home.

Oh, okay! It’s just, ma, now? Bet.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Rio smiled to himself. He purposefully pissed you off again. Part of him did it out of payback, but his main objective was getting you frustrated. If it had done the trick. You would be ripping his clothes off and begging to be fucked once he made it home.

Not one to tell a man where he can and cannot go in his own home. You decided against telling Rio to sleep on the couch. However, the need to be petty was vibrating heavily in your bones. You fought sleep as long as you could, hoping to wait up for him long enough to ignore him for a bit. The baby again had other plans and lulled you into a deep sleep.

Rio braced himself for whatever you had planned to throw his way. He smirked to himself, releasing a low chuckle before exiting the car. Dragging his tired body into the house, your husband entered the code into the security system. Resetting it, he headed in the direction of the bar. He filled a tumbler with two fingers of bourbon. Tossing it back, Rio let the warm liquid flow through his chest. He rinsed the glass, set it in the dishwasher, and headed upstairs.

Her moody ass is probably sleeping.

Attempting not to wake you, he quietly padded up the stairs. Rio unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his shirt as he walked toward your shared bedroom. He nearly made it there but stopped in his tracks. The look on his face turned stone cold, and he slowly turned his head to peer into the guest bedroom.

What the fuck is this shit?

There you were, the door cracked, and lights dimmed just enough for him to see you tucked in tight, slumbering peacefully. Your plan to ignore him may have fallen through, but you still managed to be petty even in your sleep.

You jolted awake, feeling arms slip under your frame and pull you up from the mattress. Moments went by as you willed your eyes to wake fully. Your sight focused on Rio’s angered expression, and you pushed at his chest.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down, Christopher!”

He ignored you. Rio’s jaw ticking as he took long strides exiting the guest room. He carried you into your bedroom, laid you in bed, tucking you in. You started to explain that you were a grown-ass woman and could sleep anywhere you damn well pleased. The look in his eyes forced you to think better of it.

“I don’t give a fuck how angry you are! Your ass will sleep in this bed regardless. Go to bed mad if you want to. Your stubborn ass is going to do it lying next to me. No room for debate, mama. You mad at me? You don’t want to be near me right now? That’s all good, but you sleep in our bed. Roll to the edge of the bed. That's all the space you're getting.”

Rio snatched his shirt over his head and threw it into the clothes hamper. You did your best to bite back any more snarky responses as you watched Rio stalk to the bathroom. The door flew shut, and you mumbled, “Dramatic much.”

The bathroom door swung open. Standing in the doorway, eyes set on you, Rio commanded, “Can you stop talking? Please give me a moment of peace, ma. All that talking’s gon’ land your ass in a world of trouble. Save yourself, mama. Be quiet.”

You cut your eyes at him, sliding down into bed. You lay on the side facing away from him. The corners of your mouth pulled into a mischievous grin. Waiting for the shower to start, you attempted to remove yourself from the bed and head toward the exit. Rio's voice bounced off the bathroom walls, halting your movement.

“Get back in bed, mama.”

You kissed your teeth, “Ain’t nobody left. Shut up, Rio.”

“You heard what I said. Stop playing with me.”

Pouncing back on the bed, you snarled towards the bathroom door.

“Fix your face, ma. You’re trying my patience tonight.”

Can he see through the damn walls or something?

“Nobody worried about you, Christopher.”

“Yeah, okay. Your stubborn ass got back in that bed. Didn’t you?”

Rio wanted to wash the events of the day away. He wanted a few quiet minutes to destress, but being a little hellcat, you wouldn’t give him that. You had a response for everything. He loved you combative and keyed up, but tonight, you were laying it on thick and wouldn’t let up. Rio was slightly irritated that his plan to piss you off again was starting to backfire. Taking a few calming breaths, he readied himself to regain control of the situation.

The water cut off, and he walked into the room, towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. There were beads of water sliding down his naked torso. Being irritated by him wasn’t enough to stop your eyes from tracing him from head to toe. Squeezing your thighs together, you bit your lip, fighting the urge to jump on him. Rio felt your eyes on him and smirked in your direction. He laid a fresh pair of underwear on the foot of the bed. Standing upright, his eyes connected with yours as Rio pulled the towel from his waist. His eyes stayed on you as he took the time to dry the rest of his body. Your vision latched onto his manhood as you watched it swing from side to side. The tip of your tongue danced across your lips, and Rio rasped, “You hungry, mama?” The knowing smirk on his face aggravated you. Not thinking it through, you mumbled, “Like you give a fuck.”

A low and bitter chuckle fell from Rio’s lips. That was your last chance. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His eyes darkened and held yours as he slipped into his underwear. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he crept toward you. The silence that filled the air added to the moment's intensity.

Rio’s fingers glided along the column of your neck. His digits cupped your chin, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. His face crowded your own. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. Finally, you had pissed him off enough to get the reaction you craved. Wetness pulled between your thighs in anticipation.

“This all could’ve been avoided, mama.”

Rio’s thumb traced your bottom lip as he backed away. You watched in confusion as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants and grabbed his phone. Stepping toward the door, you asked, “Where are you going?”

“Thought you didn't want to be near me, darlin’? I think you need some time alone. Just go to bed. I'm not tired.”

“I’ve been alone for two days! You’re such an asshole.”

His hand gripped the doorknob as he rolled his neck and shoulders. He was fighting the urge to pounce. With his back to you, Rio finished, “Next time you want to be fucked. Just say that, ma.”

You growled in annoyance, chucking a pillow against his back as he walked out of the room.

“Your ass is lucky you're carrying my baby. It's the only thing keeping me from snatching your little ass up. Crazy ass woman,” he called out from the hallway.

You punched your pillows and got back in bed. Too upset to sleep, a slew of emotions rained down on you. First, there were tears of frustration. Then anger, followed by another round of guilt.

Why do I keep putting this man through hell? All over some dick. That’s what it comes down to. However, if he would’ve cracked my damn back, this shit could’ve been avoided. You're so damn busy you can’t slide inside me and bust a quick nut?

You smiled, rolled your eyes, and finished your thoughts.

Damn, I’m a brat. Let me drag grumpy pants back to bed. I thought, “wE sLeEp BeSiDe EaCh OtHeR No MaTtEr WhAt,” Head ass.

Rio was sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, arms draped over his lap. The longer he sat there thinking over the day and your attitude. The more he had to fight the urge to do the things he truly wanted. Rio fisted the top of his pants as wicked thoughts of you crying out for him cycled through. His hands trembled, filled with the need to possess and punish you. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to calm his hunger. That plan fell through as your scent flowed into the room. He groaned, opening his eyes and settling his gaze on you.

“You could’ve slept in the guest room. Why are you being extra? I thought we didn’t sleep in separate rooms anyway?”

“I’m not about to keep going back and forth with you. Just go back to bed, Mama,” he responded with tiredness in his voice.”

That pulled at your heartstrings.

Be nice, bitch.

You swallowed your pride and made the first move toward reconciliation.

“Come back to bed, Rio. I’m sorry for being unreasonable, papa.”

Still standing in the entryway of the spacious living room, you waited for a response. The room was painfully quiet as you two watched one another. Rio’s gaze trailed your body. It was just something about you in his T-shirts that always drove him crazy. He kept his expression blank, making it hard for you to get a read on him. The silence continued for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was different. It wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t happy either.

It was dominant, possessive even.

“Come here.”

Oh, shit. Not that voice. Anything but that.

There were two types of dominant Rio. One, you had been working his nerves for. The other? Not so much. You stayed frozen in place.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your legs carried you over to him. Stepping between him and the coffee table, you waited for further instruction.

“Look, I know I’ve been working your nerves-.”

“Mm-Mm. Quiet. Talking seems to be your downfall, Mama.”

Rio’s hands reached up and grasped your hips.

“Sit,” he instructed, pulling you into a seated position on the coffee table.

His elbows rested on the top of his knees, hands folded underneath his chin.

“You’ve been doing your best to get my attention. Now that you have it. You seem a bit worried, Mama. It’s what you wanted. Right?”

Silence.

“Good girl. You finally learned how to listen and not talk. It’s a little shocking, honestly. You’ve had so much to say for the past two days. Now, when it seems you’re about to get the response you want, and then some. You don’t have shit to say.”

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. Fucked. That’s what you were. There were times when you would overdo it, pushing him too far. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Pulling in a shaky breath, you continued to listen. Being pregnant, you didn’t know how he would play it. That alone sent a shiver down your body.

See, this is what my emotional, spoiled ass gets. It’s too late to turn back now. Dear sweet Kitty Kat, I wish you the best of luck, girl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? You seem a bit nervous.”

More silence.

Rio leaned towards you, placing his hands on your plush thighs. He was so close your noses were an inch apart. He tilted his head, angling it to nip your bottom lip. Pulling back, his hand massaged your left cheek. It circled your skin as he leaned back in.

“My hands itching to wrap around your throat, Mama. You know I can’t act like this and do things like that when you’re carrying my child. I don’t take risks with my seed, and you know that. Playing with your oxygen supply is the same as messing with theirs. So why the fuck do you keep trying me,” he groaned.

“Baby, I’m-“

“Shhh.” He laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “You've been talking all day. Right now is a time for listening, darlin’.”

He leisurely rose from the couch, towering over you.

“Let’s put your mouth to better use. Yeah?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers threaded through your hair. Tugging it, he tilted your head back, pecking your lips again. Rio’s eyes held yours as his free hand dipped inside his sweatpants and briefs. Releasing and stroking his member, he hovered over you.

“You wanted some attention. Right, mama? You need dick? Open that pretty little mouth for me.”

Rio jerked your head forward. Hand still wrapped tightly around his thick length, he tapped it on your lips. Your mouth watered and instantly fell open.

“Now you want to be a good girl,” he groaned, swiping the head of his cock on the tip of your tongue.

You started to wrap your mouth around him, but he backed away. A whimper fell from your mouth. Rio held your chin, “I’ll tell you when you can eat it up, Mama,” he whispered, gently tapping your face with his girth.

“You so fucking fine. Wet juicy ass lips got my shit throbbing,” Rio moaned, bending down to kiss you again. Eyes blazing, you used your mouth to capture his thumb. You suckled it, giving him doe eyes. It was as if your beautiful orbs were pleading for him to give in. Your body was so wound up it screamed for some sort of relief. You so desperately wanted to taste him. Thoughts of him spilling his seed into your mouth had you salivating. Rio’s lips parted as his tongue did that snake motion you loved. He slid his thumb from your lips, moving it out of reach.

“Can’t even ruin you in the manner you deserve. I want to shove my dick in that pretty little mouth and fuck your throat until you choke. Damn, I want to leave you gasping for air, voice hoarse. You know I love the way you swallow the dick.”

An appreciative whimper sounded from your lips. Rio’s eyes danced with excitement. He took joy at the needy and desperate look on your face. The rise and fall of your chest quickened as sinful sounds came from your sweet lips.

“Look at you moaning and whimpering. That’s my nasty bitch. Does the thought of me shoving myself down that pretty little throat turn you on, mama? It makes you wet. Doesn’t it?”

You shivered and released a stuttered breath, “Daddy, please.” He smiled wickedly, “Damn, I love it when you beg, darlin’.”

“Christopher, please. I’m about to go crazy. I don't think I've ever wanted to swallow you down this bad. Please, Papa. I need you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. Rio swallowed hard, and you could see the pulse dancing on the side of his neck. His eyes grew darker as he leaned close enough, and you felt his breath brush against your lips.

“You are so cute, mama. Beg as much as you want. The question is: Do you think you deserve it,” he whispered, peppering your lips with light kisses. The corners of his lips lifted, forming a smile as you panted the word yes. “Mm, no. I don't think so, darlin’. You've been stomping around, throwing tantrums, twisting and turning, rolling that neck for days now.”

Your impatience and temper got the best of you.

“If you're so tired of my damn attitude. Put me out of my misery already. You're the one being stingy with the dick! You can't find a few moments to love on your wife?”

There was that sinister smile once more. Rio’s hand went to wrap around your throat, but halfway he stopped. Closing it into a fist tightly, he forced it down to his side. He smirked, slowly opening his mouth to speak, “You’re letting these hormones rattle you, mama. They got you impatient as fuck and coming out of pocket.”

Tucking himself back into his sweats, Rio reclaimed his spot on the sofa. Leaning back into the cushions, he watched your face twist up in frustration.

“Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Sleep wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Sit. Down,” Rio roared.

You froze, back still facing him.

“I’m getting tired of saying things twice,” Rio hissed. “Sit your ass down.”

You swung around and stomped to the coffee table to reclaim your seat.

“Not there. Come here.”

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You beckoned? Dear sweet husband.”

Though Rio wore a thin smile, you could tell he didn’t find shit amusing. Glancing at his lap, he whispered, “Sit.”

You kissed your teeth, plopping into his lap. He pressed up against you, hands gripping your waist. “You enjoy making me tick. Don’t you darlin’?”

Not waiting for you to answer, one hand abandoned your waist. It slid into your hair, tugging at the strands. The action caused you to release something Rio couldn’t decipher. What had started as a gasp shifted to a whimper and ended as a moan. The sound caused his erection to twitch underneath you as he bit back a groan.

“Why are you giving Daddy a hard time? Thought you loved me, Mama,” he teased.

Your lips parted, but he tugged more, signaling you to remain silent.

“Don’t deny it, love. I’m over here fighting everything in me right now. I know how you want it. You ain’t in no condition for that, baby girl.”

“How do I want it, Papa,” you whispered breathlessly.

Rio’s hand trailed to the column of your neck. He gave it a light, gentle squeeze. Pulling your ear to his lips, he groaned, “You want that rough shit. Need me to choke you. Talk my shit and say all the nasty things you like. Pin you down, fuck you until you cry. That’s what you want, yeah,” he questioned, nipping at your earlobe.

A smirk danced across his face at the sound of your whimpering.

“Can’t you just do it as gently as possible? Please, you begged, grinding into his lap.

His growl bounced off the living room walls. It was a signal, a warning, but you couldn’t help yourself. Circling your hips, you pressed further into his erection. Rio hissed, “Behave. You really gotta chill, Mama.”

You stood long enough to turn and straddle his thigh. His hands cradled your small bump. Pecking his lips, you watched as Rio’s eyes fluttered closed. The two of you slipped into a sensual kiss. Your hips rolled as you started to grind your moist panties against his thigh.

“Papa, please. I’m begging you. I need you. I’ll take it any way you’d like.”

He sucked in a shallow breath, grasping your chin.

“I know you will. You don’t have a choice, mama.”

Cocky motha-.

“Keep grinding that slick little pussy against me, baby,” he rasped, grabbing up the globes of your behind. “Now I know you can do better than that. Grind harder,” he finished with a smack to each cheek. Mouths collided as your fingers traced patterns along the nape of his neck. Your tongues wrestled for dominance. His palms dug into your supple flesh, guiding you along the slick spot that started to form on his thigh.

“Damn, mama. Just the sound of my voice makes that little pussy weep, yeah?”

He watched you with pride, your eyes shut tight, breathing ragged. Rio moved his hands to your breast, giving them a light squeeze. He moaned as his teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“Go a little faster. Pull yourself toward the edge, darlin’.”

Your body rocked faster against his drenched thigh as his hand crept until it found its way underneath your shirt, pulling at the hardened nipples.

“Christopher.”

“Hmm, baby? Talk to me, mama. What do you need from Daddy?”

The words got stuck in your throat, and you edged closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Your head tilted back, and the mewl you released made all Rio’s blood rush to his thick member. He peppered kisses along the soft skin of your neck, cooing, “You close, baby girl? Hmm? Come on now, tell me how you feel, darlin’. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

“So damn close. Add a little pressure, Daddy. Press into me, please.”

Rio chuckled, lifting his thigh just enough to give you the desired pressure.

“That better, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” you whispered. Ye-I’ma come. Please-.”

You started to tremble, signaling an explosive orgasm. Rio’s fingers gripped your waist, halting all movement. A high-pitched whine echoed throughout the room as you tried to power through his grasp and thrust your hips. His hold on you was too strong to fight. The teasing chuckle he gave frustrated you.

“Why would you do that? Don’t play with me like that, Rio,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you thought this was about to be easy? No, love. See where all the nagging and expectations got you. Playing with my patience had you believing I would let you have your way. Fuck that. You better work for that shit, mama. You know how I operate, and I ain’t feeling too generous right now.” He pinched your nipple, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Shoving his shoulder, he fell back against the couch, pinning you with a mischievous glint.

“Ain’t shit funny, Rio. You’re pissing me off,” you snapped, pacing the hardwood floor.

“That makes two of us,” he countered, shrugging his shoulders.

“What happened to a happy wife, a happy life? I’m carrying your child. Where is the love?”

“So damn dramatic. You just knew you’d get your way, huh?”

You stopped, turning to face him. Your arms crossed your ample chest. Frustration ran deep in your mind. The two of you matched glare for glare.

Rio’s eyes darkened as he stood, walking toward you. He kissed you long and hard, backing you toward the living room wall. Your body shivered as you made contact with the chilled surface. He broke the kiss and rasped, “Should’ve used these past few minutes to make a convincing argument,” he tsked. “I don't even know if you deserve to come at this point, darlin’.”

Rio dropped to his knees, and you watched his head disappear underneath the fabric of your shirt. Heat pulsed throughout your core as you felt Rio pull fabric aside. Thousands of tiny sparks flooded your body as you felt his wet, warm tongue trail from the bottom of your dripping sex to the top. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open while the tip of his tongue danced around your bundle of nerves. You released a shuttered breath, head tilting back as your eyes fluttered closed. Without having to look up, Rio paused his licking and growled, “Keep you’re fucking eyes on me. Take off this damn shirt, and watch me eat this pussy up, mama.”

Say less. I got you, Zaddy.

His eyes burned with passion at the sight of your breast. “You don’t need these either,” he rasped, tearing the panties from your body. Without another word, his head dipped back between your thighs. He teased you with nips and licks until you squirmed, begging for more. The pace had started achingly slow. His breath fanned your lower lips, “Look at you wiggling and shit. Are you aching for me, mama?” Rio inhaled your scent, “Damn, I’m about to eat this shit up.”

“Less talking. More licking, Papa,” you mewled, trying to thrust your heat back into his face. Rio leaned away.

“See, that’s your problem. You need to learn patience, mama. We don’t need to rush. Let me take my time and enjoy all this fine dining.”

“Truthfully, you get off on torturing me, don’t you?”

Instead of using his words, Rio answered with action. Still holding your lips apart, three fingers from the opposite hand pressed into your clit, rubbing wide circles slowly.

In a husky tone, he taunted, “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can get wetter than this.” Your sarcastic rebuttal halted as he continued, “Let me help you with that, ma.”

His words fully registered as you felt his saliva collide with your silky flesh. His mouth covered your lips again, alternating between slow, languid strokes and rapid, hungry licks. From the movement of his tongue to the way he gripped your thighs. Feeling everything at once was hurdling toward a powerful orgasm. His fingers rejoined the party, using them to fumble with your clit as he thrust his tongue into you.

“N-no, baby. Not ye-it’s too soon. S-slow down, fuck!”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers away. Rio swatted it as he hoisted you higher, locking his arms around your thighs.

“I thought you wanted to come though, Mama,” he teased. “Let me switch it up for you, yeah?”

His tongue replaced those same fingers, licking and sucking your sweet little nub like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Oh! You fucking demon. Daddy, no,” you mewled, body starting to jerk. The sensation sent tingles throughout as your fist pounded against the wall. The digits of the other hand dug into his scalp. You felt him smile against your flesh, moaning and growling. Slipping three fingers inside, he flexed them, deliciously tapping your g-spot. The pace of his digits quickened as his lips wrapped around your abused clit, and he sucked as hard as he could. Your body writhed. The feeling was so intense you considered climbing the wall.

This bitch would go harder. I need to learn how to shut up.

Rio tsked again, “There’s nowhere for you to run, Mama. Daddy got you locked in,” he taunted, fingers speeding up a little more. “Thought this is what you wanted, hm? You've been crying for this all day. Is it too much for you, baby?” Rio’s fingers slipped out of you, and the palm of his hand delivered smacks over your lips. “Yeah! There we go! That’s that wet shit, mama.” Rio dove back in, the sounds of his mouth on your body growing more lewd by the second. All you could do was tremble and whimper. Rio groaned, his mouth devouring you. His words tickled your slick heat, “ You gon’ come for me? Hmm? My mouth got you leaking all over the place.” Your legs started to shake as his tongue lashed at your skin.

“Answer me, ma,” he demanded, harsh yet sexy.

“Yes, fuck. I’m so close, shit!”

“Beg me to let you come.”

“Please, Papa! Let me come all over that sinfully delicious tongue.”

“I know you’re close. Look at that pretty little pussy squeezing around my fingers,” Rio teased, adding a fourth finger. “Look at these thick thighs shaking,” he taunted. Your husband took a moment to nip at your inner thighs. “Soft as fuck. Tastes so damn good.” His lips licked and sucked at the soft skin as he massaged your g-spot.

“Hold on a bit longer for me.”

His eyes glistened, and you knew Rio was about to make you suffer. There was something in his expression that just reeked of revenge. Minutes ticked by, and you were proven right: every torturous lick of his tongue was his getback. Every time his lips captured your bundle of nerves, it felt like he was trying to suck the soul out of you. He had brought you to the edge for the third time, only to slow down. Tears threatened to spill as you begged and pleaded. At this point, you were no longer begging him to come on his talented tongue. You just wanted him to wrap your legs around his waist and pound you into an earth-shattering orgasm. Twice, you had tried pulling his head away, pressing him to fuck you. Both times, Rio denied you and went right back to eating. His greedy mouth slurped at your juices, “Mm-mm, mama. Daddy’s still hungry.”

His tongue grazed your clit, causing your body to shiver with force. You cried out, “Rio, please! You have to let me come. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears trailed down your cheeks, tugging at his heart a bit. He kissed your nub once more before he pulled up from between your legs. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped at the remnants of your tears. Pecking your lips, his hands cradled your face. “I’m sorry, mama. Shh, I know, baby. I know. Breathe for me, catch your breath.”

How could your emotions be all over the place? Yet, every ounce of you still ached for him. Though you were irritated and pissed at the way he edged you. The need to be fucked and orgasm was still the top priority. You could curse him out later. Truthfully, you had done it to yourself. You knew pushing him too far was what brought you here. Patience and understanding had been an option that would have left you well rewarded. Instead, you had opted to try to force his hand.

I’m pregnant, horny, and a bit illogical at the moment. I want what the fuck I want, and I want it now.

Rio’s eyes locked with yours, his orbs still dark but sympathetic at the same time. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he swept hair that blocked your vision. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ma stop fucking with you, mama,” he whispered, stealing a kiss.

Rio shushed your whimpering as his hands trailed back down your body and between your thighs. His fingers brushed your slit, collecting moisture along the way. His fingers slid lower until they reached the destination they were in search of. Two fingers penetrated you as his free hand tweaked your nipple. You sucked in a sharp breath as his digits tapped against that special place in warp speed.

“R-rio. Oh, God,” you mewled. “No, please. I want you inside. I need you inside me, baby. Why won’t you just-.”

His head fell into the crook of your neck as you pleaded. An anguished growl echoed against your throat.

“I can’t right now, mama. I just can’t,” he responded helplessly as his fingers kept slamming into you. “Give it to me, mama. I know you can’t hold it anymore. Come for me, baby girl,” he moaned against your skin.

“But why? Oh! Fuck! Y-yes. God, yes,” you cried, falling over the edge.

“Fuck, mama. My arm’s soaked,” he groaned, breath shallow, as he trailed kisses down your neck. He waited for you to respond, but the only sound he heard was sniffling. Rio pulled back with a quickness, hands cradling your face once more. He kissed you, “What’s wrong, mama? Why are you crying?”

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“Mama. Don’t start. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you? That’s a wild ass question. Please don’t take this wrong, but these hormones got you all messed up. You know better than to ask me such a ludicrous question.”

Your eyes started to water again, and Rio threw his head back, running his hand down his face. Releasing a long sigh, “Don’t start again, mama. You’re all over the place today. One minute, you’re cursing me out, trying to push me away. The next minute, you’re on me. I damn sure can’t keep up with the mood swings today. Now I’m getting pissed all over again because you're questioning my love for you.”

“It’s a simple question, Rio. Something must be wrong since you won’t fuck your wife. It can’t be that bizarre of a question. Just admit it. I’m gaining weight (not to mention I was already plushie before), so you’re not interested.”

“What number mood swing is this?”

“Fuck you, Rio.”

“You’d like that? A fuck. Wouldn’t you?”

“Such a dickish response!”

You stormed away, ignoring his demands not to walk away from him. Upon entering your bedroom, you slammed the door. Climbing under the covers, you snuggled down until you found a comfortable spot. He didn’t immediately follow you upstairs. Sinking back into the couch, he tried to calm his temper.

Rio’s mood/urge was why Y/N hadn’t gotten what she wanted in the first place. He was right back to being as pissed as he was earlier. It was all the more reason to stay where he was until he could calm himself. During the first round of this sexually charged argument, it had taken every fiber in him not to fuck you relentlessly. No matter how bad you both wanted it. He wasn’t comfortable with manhandling you at a time like this.

He tilted his head back against the cushions and chuckled to himself. Looking back over the day, you had been a pain in the ass. However, Rio loved that you were adamant about getting what you desired.

The fact that she thinks there’s a way for me to be gentle and rough in that sort of head space is laughable. I love this crazy ass woman.

He replayed the last of your conversation. Guilt crept in as he remembered how your lip trembled as you fought back tears of frustration and neediness while leaving the room. Thinking the situation over, Rio started to hold himself accountable. He knew what to expect at times like this. If he was being honest, having another baby was mainly his idea. That thought alone had him shaking his head and smirking.

This woman is going to drive me insane. She can’t be serious thinking I’m not attracted to her right now because she’s pregnant. If anything, that makes my dick harder. These kinks, man. Her ass knows I love her any size. Mama knows I love it when she’s stupid thick. Damn, I want to bend her ass over something. Just wait until baby girl or boy gets here. I’m going to remember every single mood swing and attitude. Like that man Miguel once said, that pussy gon’ be mine. Let me check on her mean ass. Remember to remain calm, Rio.

He flipped off all the lights downstairs and made sure everything was locked up tight. It was pitch black in the master suite. Rio entered quietly, not wanting to wake you. The faint sounds of sniffles came from under the covers on your side of the bed. Your husband’s head hung low at the sounds, shaking it side to side in disbelief. Sadness ached deep in his chest. It had never been his intention to make you feel unwanted. He certainly didn’t mean for you to feel unattractive. You had pushed him to that place of uncertainty. Rio didn’t trust himself enough to remain gentle. His anger had been raging off and on for the past two days. It was time for him to set the record straight and make things right.

Self-control, my boy. Self-control. I may not be able to choke her. Let that mouth get to firing off again. I’ma spank this woman. Lord, help me.

He approached your side of the bed, attempting to lower the comforter, but it wouldn’t budge. You grumbled, “Don’t, Christopher. Just get in bed. Let’s get some rest. We can discuss this in the morning.” The fabric of the blankets muffled your voice a bit, but Rio could hear how you fought back tears.

Rio gently rubbed what he believed to be your hip. “Don’t hide from me,” he rasped.

“I’m not. Goodnight, Papa.”

He lowered his head, rubbing soothing circles against your back. He stood there a few moments, trying to find a way to make things better. A thought entered his mind. His head leaned to the side as he gave a quick head nod. Heading to his side of the bed, Rio checked his notifications one last time, setting the ringer to silent. He grabbed an item from the nightstand, setting it to the side. Rio got into bed, sliding closer. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back as he joined you under the covers.

“You still mad at me, Mama,” he questioned, leaving butterfly kisses against your skin. “You gon’ forgive me, hm?”

“Shut up, Rio,” you responded with a giggle and sniffle.

“You know you’re crazy for thinking that bullshit, right? I love you, mama. Don’t you know that you’re my favorite person in this world? I love you for life, woman,” he explained. “I’ll always be attracted to you, no matter what. You’re my heart and world, baby girl.” Rio nibbled at your neck. “Those better be happy sniffles, he teased.

“They are, trust me. Thank you for the reassurance, Papa,” you responded, voice still shaky.

His fingers caressed your thighs, drawing small patterns on your flesh, lips peppering kisses against a bare shoulder back to the soft spot below your ear.

“Papa, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m still wet from earlier,” you whispered, lower lips tingling again.

Rio shushed you as his tongue swept across the column of your neck. “You looked so damn good in those jeans with the heels. You just had to get me hard while I was working. Didn’t you? How am I supposed to focus with images of fucking you against my desk floating through my head?”

“I just wanted to see you, baby.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

His hand slid between soft thighs, swiping at the moisture pooling between your folds.

“Always wet. Forever ready for me. Shit. Give me those lips, ma.”

Both of you tried to take control of the kiss until his fingers pulled away. You huffed, “Not this shit again-Oh! Shit,” you moaned. Not only had he placed his hand back where it was, but you felt a lovely buzzing sensation against your clit. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Been waiting for the right time to break this out. You’ve been rambling on about that damn toy, so I bought you a rose, Mama. How’s that feel?” Unable to speak, you answered with a sweet sigh. Rio’s lips connected to your temple. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, increasing the speed.

Between his lips and the toy, you hadn’t noticed Rio tugging down his sweatpants. The kiss broke as you mewled. He bit his lip, watching you gasp at the feel of the rose pressed against your nub while his aching erection slid back and forth against your folds. The leaking tip dipped in and out of your spasming channel. The covers kicked down to the foot of the bed as Rio’s hungry gaze drank in the writhing of your bodies. His breathing quickened, listening to your faint moans.

“I think we’re both a bit calmer now. Don’t you agree, Mama,” he questioned, sucking in a breath at the wetness pulling around his tip.

If you had heard him, Rio didn’t wait for a response. He reclaimed your mouth, sinking his thick, veiny rod inside you.

“Got Damn,” you both moaned in unison.

“That’s a good girl. Take it all, Mama. So fucking tight. Grip that shit.”

Burying your head in your pillow, you trembled, moaning repetitively. Rio’s hands sunk into the plushness of your waist. His finger sunk deeper, pressing your behind into his lap. Pumping you slowly, you felt his hips do that circular motion.

“Faster, Daddy. Please go faster.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he answered, pulling your hair and snapping his hips harder. “The settings go higher, baby.” Shifting the rose to its highest voltage, he growled at the screams that bounced around the room.

“T-too much. Fuck!”

“No, ma. You got this. Take that shit. Don’t you want me to make that pussy feel good, yeah? Yes, baby. Oh, shit. Take it, baby. Just let me pound that pretty little flower.”

Every thrust sent you higher. Your fingers dug into Rio’s hand as you thrashed about the bed.

“You keep fucking me like this. I’m not going to last much longer,” you whined.

“You got that. Go on and wet that shit up, mama. Fall apart. Come for, Daddy. I’ll put you back together and break you apart again. Don’t bury your face in the pillow. Let me hear you come loud and clear. Come for me right fucking now,” he demanded, giving your ass a hard smack.”

“Fu-Chris! Baby,” you screamed, body tensing, shaking violently. Kisses danced along your temple. Whimpers continued to fall from your lips, the aftershocks sending waves throughout your body. Rio attempted to center and bring you back down from the high.

“You’re good, mama. I got you. Good job,” he praised.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to end a long day. At least that's what you thought until Rio decided to take it one step further.

“I’m not finished with you yet, baby girl,” he whispered.

Rio slid out of you, laying on his back, while he waited for you to turn toward him. Your face hovered over his. Staring lovingly into his eyes, you spoke softly.

“Tell me what you need, Papa,” you questioned, stroking his jaw.

He reached for your leg, bringing it over his to straddle him. Hands traveled the length of your body, stopping to cup your breast. Through body language alone, the communication was clear. Giving him a gentle nod, lip tucking between your teeth. Rio felt your digits wrap around his length, rising just enough. You slowly slipped his throbbing length into the slick cavern. The two of you moaned in unison.

Rio sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rode him slow and steady. Biting your lip, he encouraged you, “Mm, that's it, mama. You feel so good.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue circling it hungrily. Giving it a playful bite pulled a meal from your lungs. Releasing the taut bud, Rio whimpered, “Keep squeezing me. Just like that. Fuck.”

He tugged one of your hands from his shoulder, placing the digits around the column of his throat. He smirked as your eyes widened.

“I can’t choke you, so why don’t we switch shit up? You be me for a change, mama. Be rough with Daddy, yeah?”

A tremble coursed through you at the thought of it.

“It’s your body, mama. You’re in control. Ride me as hard as you can stand it.” He pecked your lips, cooing, “Are you going to ride your daddy nice and hard, hm? This is your dick. Take it, mama,” he insisted, giving your bottom another slap.

Pushing at his chest, you laid him back against the mattress. Your hand tightened around his throat as your hips circled, taking him as deep as possible. Your head fell back as your speed increased.

“Oh,” you cried. “Daddy!”

“Look at me,” he gasped.

Your face floated above his, and you started to bounce erratically. Rio’s face twisted up as he grunted your name. The hold on his throat tightened, causing him to bite his lip harder. You felt his hands spank and grip your cheeks. The two of you entered a lip lock as the headboard banged against the wall. Coming up for air, you felt him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, Mama. I’m about to nut. Is that what you want, baby? Do you want to be filled up? Yeah, I know you do, darlin’. F-fuck! Come with me, mama! Right now!”

You both plummeted over the edge, calling out each other’s name. Trying to keep balance, your hands rested against Rio’s chest. He sat up, pulling you into an embrace. Leaving kisses all over your face, you giggled breathlessly. His arm reached around your waist, guiding you to lie down comfortably.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Stay right here. I got you, mama.”

Rio disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm towel. With the aftercare complete, he quickly got himself together. Making his way to the kitchen, Rio returned with a glass of ice water for you.

“Drink up. You need to replenish, ma.”

“Thank you, Papa. What about you, though?”

“Drank it downstairs, " he responded, cuddling up to you.

“So we’re switching roles now? Is that what we are doing,” you teased.

Rio’s laugh bellowed throughout the room. “Listen, ma. You’re little thirsty ass needed that rough shit. I figured since I’m not doing that right now. You can get your fix if I relinquish a little bit of that power. Temporarily, of course.” He gave your shoulder a playful bite. “You should know I’m keeping tabs for the remainder of this pregnancy.”

“Tabs? What tabs?”

“I’m keeping a mental log of every time you act up. The moment the doctor clears you. That thick ass will be stinging, and you won’t be able to walk straight for a few weeks. Maybe a month,” he shrugged, nonchalance written on his handsome face. His eyes reduced to slits, “Breath play’s about to be a beast for you, mama. Hate it for you.”

“No, you don’t, liar.”

“You said it. Not me,” Rio shrugged.

He felt your fist collide with his arm.

“Aye, chill out now. You know what, let me put this shit in my notes. What is this? That makes at least eight offenses. For the day alone.”

“Whatever. Goodnight, crybaby.”

“Says the woman that’s been crying all night.”

“Don’t piss me off again, Rio. Go to sleep. Keep in mind that you won’t be leaving for work on time. I can tell that I’ll be just as needy in the morning. Have my dick ready.”

“Just admit that you only want me for my body,” he teased.

You kissed your teeth and mugged his forehead.

“Aye! Chill. Where my kisses at?”

Rio pulled your leg over his waist, cradling your bump, and kissed you goodnight.

What did y'all think about that roller coaster? Hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, lovelies 💕!

lovelies💕:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @fineanddandy @rio-reid-whoreee @novaniskye @that-one-anxious-mango @1andonlytashae @blkbutterfly816 @lovedlover @vanityinvenus

@librarian1002 @banana123pudding @fezcosonlylove @sunshine-flower @invisiblegiurl

@astoldbychae @amorestevens @starrynite7114 @alertyoulikeitsamber

#berberries asks #asks open #follow up #daddy rio #i love my mutuals😍#rio x black!reader #rio x woc!reader #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls fanfiction #rio good girls #good girls rio #berberries 2000 followers celebration

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dixons-sunshine · 8 months ago

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Mouth To Mouth | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: The moment seemed all too perfect. You and Daryl had just confessed to each other and were sharing your first kiss with each other. It was too bad that your mom had terrible timing, and walked in at the wrong moment.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual innuendos.

A/n: Here's the long awaited (wanted by, like, two people) fic about what happened when the mom walked in. I hope y'all enjoy! I really hoped to have my ex!celebrity fic with Daryl ready, but my draft never saved and I lost 2000 words, and that really discouraged me, so I worked on this little fic instead. Also, if anyone would want it, I have so many personal headcannons for this universe, so if anyone wants to see them, let me know.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“Mom, please don't freak out. I can explain.”

Your mom raised her eyebrows at you, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at the position you were in and nodded sarcastically, an amused smirk creeping onto her face.

“I'm sure you can,” she mused, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “This totally doesn't look like the two of you were just making out. You were just giving him mouth to mouth, right? Teaching him how to do CPR? Or you just slipped and happened to slam your lips against his.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl duck his head in embarrassment, his face flushed with a blush. You could feel heat creeping onto your cheeks as well, your mom's knowing stare penetrating into your soul. You knew that your mom probably didn't care that you and Daryl were kissing, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to pretend to go into "protective mom" mode. She loved doing it to embarrass you a little bit.

“Mom,” you drawled in embarrassment, sending her a pleading look. “Please don't.”

“What, I walk in to find my daughter and her friend chewing on each other's faces, which will probably scar me for life, but I can't lay down some guesses for what your explanation would've been? How's that fair?”

“Fine, yes, we were kissing, but you don't have to make such a big deal out of it. It's not like I haven't walked in on you getting busy with Mr Prescott,” you retorted defensively, sneaking glances at Daryl who remained silent, his eyes nervously flickering between you and the floor.

Your mom let out a small laugh and shook her head. “Touche, sweetheart,” she nodded, shifting her attention to Daryl. “Daryl, I'm not gonna bite your head off if you look at me.”

Daryl reluctantly rose his head, a nervous glint in his eyes. He was fidgeting with his hands, picking at the loose skin on his thumb and you had to resist the urge to take his hand in yours to stop the nervous gesture. You didn't want to give your mom more ammo to tease you with.

“There, that's better,” your mom mused, taking a step closer. “Now I can see those blue eyes of yours that my daughter wouldn't stop raving about. I'm honestly surprised that it took her this long to make a move. She's liked you for quite a while now. She would never shut up about you when you left.”

“Mom!” you complained, sending her an exasperated look. “Can we not?!”

Your mom simply let out another laugh. “What? It's adorable!”

“Mom, please,” you pleaded, sneaking another look at Daryl. His gaze had returned to the floor, but you didn't miss the small smirk that was on his face.

“Alright, alright. I'll lighten up,” she reluctantly agreed, turning around to grab something from the table. “Sorry to have interrupted your "totally not making out" session. I need to get back to work anyway. I forgot a folder my boss needed. But after today, I'm suspecting that this will become a regular thing, so I won't ever be forgetting folders or anything ever again. My eyes won't ever recover.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands.

“Remember to use protection, kids! I'm not ready to be a grandma just yet,” your mom chuckled and left, leaving you and Daryl alone.

The air was charged with an awkward silence. You dared a look at him and saw him nervously fiddling with his hands, but the small smile from earlier still remained. He turned his head and locked eyes with you, his gaze holding a certain amount of mischief to it.

“So, ya have been ravin' 'bout me to yer mom?” he said with a hint of playfulness, finally breaking the silence between you. “Wha' have ya been sayin'? Ya been talkin' 'bout my rugged good looks? Dun' worry, by the way. I won't tell nobody tha' ya have a secret crush on me.”

You took one of the pillows from the couch and threw it at him. Daryl effortlessly caught it and laughed—not chuckled, but actually laughed—and dropped it down next to him. Before you could retort with a sarcastic remark, Daryl leaned forward and captured your lips with his, silencing any and all thoughts you had.

You returned the kiss easily. However, you pulled away after a few moments, lightly shoving him back with a playful smile on your face. You stood up and extended a hand to him, which he took without any hesitation. You pulled him up and lead him to your room, closing the door behind you. You gently urged him backwards and pushed him onto your bed, watching him comply easily.

A nervous look flitted across Daryl's eyes. You instantly caught it and gave him a reassuring smile, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

“Relax, pretty boy. We're not doing anything like that tonight,” you reassured him, stepping closer in between his legs. “My mom just caught us kissing. Do you really think I want to risk her walking in on something like that in the same night?”

Daryl exhaled a sigh of relief, looking up at you. “Then wha' are ya doin'?”

You smiled at him and gently urged him down, letting his body fully lay down and his head rest on the pillow. You got in on the other side and rested your head on his chest, getting comfortable against him. You felt him stiffen slightly, feeling his hand hover over your waist uncertainly.

“Relax, Daryl. We've cuddled before.”

“Yeah, but s'different now,” he whispered, his hand still hovering over your waist. “This ain't friend cuddlin' no more. S'couple cuddlin' now. I dun' wanna do anythin' to make ya uncomfortable.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his clothed chest, nuzzling your face deeper into it. “I'll tell you if you do, but you can touch me. I won't bite,” you assured him, feeling his hand finally rest on your waist before adding in a teasing manner. “Not unless you want me to.”

Daryl inhaled sharply, his grip on your waist momentarily tightening before relaxing again. “This gon' be a regular thing now? Ya teasin' the shit outta me?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Yer gon' be the death of me, girl,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “But I guess I'll allow it.”

“Good, because I'm not stopping. I love seeing you blush like that, handsome.”

“Stop,” he groaned, burying his face into your hair.

“Stop making you get all flustered like this?” you asked, shaking your head. “Not when it's this adorable.”

Before Daryl could say anything else, you rolled away from him, flicking off the lamp before settling into your side of the bed. You got comfortable, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, handsome.”

A few moments of silence passed, before you felt him shuffle behind you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, spooning you from the back. He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your clean scent before finally whispering something back.

“Night, beautiful.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #young!daryl dixon #young daryl dixon #young!daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #shopping spree hangout dreams

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hiddenzev · 2 months ago

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Second Confession: Part 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel realises his feelings after seeing reader and Emile spending more time with each other.

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 7.2K

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: Y'all I don't even know how I'm writing longer and longer as each chapter goes by. Thank you for the comments and likes, i'm living for it. Love yall! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It's not as angsty as what some of you hope for tho.

You walk into the cafeteria the next morning to see Emile sitting with the group for breakfast. What the hell? It must be Tommy’s doing for sure. This man interferes too much and sometimes you just want to strangle him. You fill your tray up with the menu of the day before walking slowly to the table, cursing under your breath.

Tommy notices you coming and calls out your name. You put on a fake smile, intensely staring at Tommy for pulling Emile in for breakfast with the group. He raises his eyebrows with a big smile, communicating with you silently to play it cool. You kisses your teeth to restrain yourself from calling him out. As a matter of fact, you almost slap his head when you passed right by him before rounding the table to take a seat.

You were too locked in on Tommy that you didn’t realise that you took a seat right next to Joel. Until you were seated down, that’s when you realise Ellie isn’t by your side. She had swapped her seats with Joel. Before this, you were panicking on not knowing what to say to Emile but now you were nervous, sitting almost thigh to thigh with Joel.

“Good Morning.” you squeezed that out with a strained smile after taking a seat.

You receive a couple of replies and some nods. Emile who sits right opposite you couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Good Morning.” Emile said looking at you, smiling with anticipation behind his eyes.

You give him a polite smile in return before digging in your food. You are only a few bites in and Emile speaks up again.

“How are you? I didn’t see you in the library for awhile,” he asks with a worried look on his face.

“I’m good. I just needed time to myself and get it together again. That’s all,” you explain.

“Oh. Did something happened?”

“Umm, no, nothing for you to worry about. I’m okay,”

“Well, if you say so. I’m glad you’re okay,”

“Thank you.”

You move your hand to pick up your fork to eat again when he opens his mouth to talk, causing you to halt your movements. You put down your fork feeling a little annoyed because you’re hungry and you want to eat. Don’t let your girl get hangry.

“I was just missing seeing that pretty face of yours in the library.” he looks down bashfully, stuffing his face with his food.

You don’t know how to react. Your mouth keeps opening and closing slightly, like a fish, not knowing what to say. You glance to Tommy, who’s sitting beside Emile, for help but this dude is just side eyeing you. Everyone one else was just silently wanting to hear what you would say.

“Oh, t-thanks. It’s nice of you to say that,” you stutters, feeling shy about the compliment.

“I’m not just saying that. You really are beautiful,” he blushes looking at you to say that.

“Thank you.” you said in a small voice, nodding your head awkwardly and breaks the eye contact to look at the table.

You are fiddling with your food, lost in thoughts, when you feel Joel’s elbow grazing yours. That makes you feel the shivers running through your body. How is it when Emile who is flirting with you, did not make you feel anything but when Joel’s elbow are grazing yours, it makes you feel hot? That’s it. You need to lie down and roll on some grass.

He quickly finishes his food and gets up to leave without saying anything. Tommy watches his brother scurrying off until he is out of sight. Lots of thoughts running through his head. You don’t even want to look at Joel leaving so you just keep on eating and talking with Emile.

Since that breakfast, Emile has been joining the group for breakfast and some of the dinners. You have been friendly with him even though you’re not usually open to people but he does seem sincere from what you learn about him from his time here. You do want to befriend him, taking this chance to change your cooped up self and socialise.

He makes an effort to do things for you and also with you. You appreciate it a lot but you kind of feel bad thinking you’re leading him on. You just want to be friends first and not jump into anything rashly.

You open the door and see Emile holding some flowers with a big smile on his face. His face is slightly red, burning up from the shyness.

“Hey, good morning! I got you these pretty little things along the fences out back,” he holds out a bunch of wildflowers that he picked towards you, “they remind me of you.”

You take it from him and brings it close to your face to smell it. It feels wonderful to be given flowers and you don’t even remember the last time someone gave you one.

“Awww, thank you! This is so sweet.” You thank him with an awe look on your face before turning around to put the flowers in an old vase that you found.

Emile is still standing outside, looking inside at what you are doing and occasionally touching the back of his hair nervously. You quickly get your bag and locks the door to not keep him waiting. Emile is walking you to the ranch this morning. He offers to accompany you a few days ago after hearing that you will be on patrol duty that day. The eagerness in his striking blue eyes made you feel bad to turn him down. So here he is walking out with you.

“Thank you for the flowers, Emile. You don’t have to do that.” You thank him again.

He’s been giving you flowers after his solo walks within the town. He’s not able to go outside because he’s lacking the skills on those areas and that is why he’s with the books. He’s a sweet guy with a soft heart that it makes you wonder how did he even survive for this long.

You remember vaguely that he came to Jackson with a small group of people consisting of mostly strong men and only a couple of women and small children. He’s always with the rowdy bunch of men in that group and he stands out like a sore thumb. He’s so out of place there but you don’t really question it because they probably saved him from the horrors that happened outside.

“You’re welcome. I’ve always thought that you’re a cool person so I really want to give those flowers to you. I thought you would love it, y’know,”

“I love it but I feel like I owe you something for all the flowers you have given me,”

“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” He gestures that it’s fine.

You both make your way to the ranch with nonstop talking. You find that it’s easy to talk with Emile. He don’t just cut you off and dismisses what you said. He don’t ignore you and tells you to keep your mouth shut. He don’t give you a dirty look for rambling on and on about the things you are passionate about. Unlike someone.

Meanwhile, back in Joel’s house, he sees everything that’s happening. Ever since Emile was brought up into the conversation, he’s been feeling out of sorts. He sees the way Emile looks at you with so much adoration. He sees Emile being nervous when you’re not looking. He sees Emile making the effort to be close to you.

He knows Emile is one of the good guys in Jackson. He should be glad that at least Emile is treating you well as you deserves it. Joel’s not a good person. He has done a lot of bad things that he thinks are unforgivable. You should not be with him because you could do so much better than his stoic and grumpy ass. He doesn’t know how to break his shell and communicate his feelings better.

You’re tough, resilient, stand on your business type of woman but you’re also stubborn, impatient at times and be lost in your thoughts whenever you can. At first, he thinks you’re adorable actually but he doesn’t want to admit it. He keeps his distance away from you to not get too soft on his feelings. You’re charming in your own way and Joel finds you irresistible after realising your true feelings and the effort that you put in for him.

Yes, he had suspected that you have feelings for him. Like Tommy said, only a fool wouldn’t see it but he ignored it. He has his own demons that he struggles with and he doesn’t want to entertain something that may not be worth risking his heart for. He’s tired of losing the people that he loves and cares about so he keeps his circle small.

Seeing you smiling at Emile when he’s giving you the flowers, he can’t help but feel his heart drops to his stomach. You look so contented and it hurts that he’s the reason of your tears not too long ago. He feels stupid now that when someone else is trying to win your heart, that’s when he gets the urge to do something about it.

He sighs heavily and takes a moment before stepping out of his house. He has to endure seeing you and Emile most of the time now and he’s going to hate seeing how both of you get on so well with each other.

Emile has been walking you to and fro from patrols for two weeks now. It’s lovely that he never fails to show up and keeps you company. Even though there are times when you want to be alone, you don’t mind it because it’s exhilarating seeing Joel’s reaction to seeing Emile with you.

The patrols with Joel were as per usual except you caught him multiple times staring at you. He would also try to make small talks, asking you a couple of questions before completely keeping his silence. You would answer shortly with a slight animosity, giving back the energy that he has given you before. Do you still have feelings for him? Yeah. Do you feel bad for him? No….okay, maybe a little bit but who cares. You’re going to enjoy it for awhile.

You’re sitting on one of your chairs in your back porch, sipping on your hot tea. You have the book that you are currently reading closed on the table beside you. You’ve been catching up on your reading now after that whole confession fiasco with Joel. The library has been one of the places you visited to let your mind be lost in fiction instead of your miserable reality. In addition to that, Emile is there as well to keep the atmosphere lighthearted by checking up on you time to time.

However, this peace did not last long. Strangely, Joel has been coming to the library more often. You did not find it weird at first since you know he do read sometimes. Most of the time you would see him come in straight inside without saying anything to Emile at the front desk. Then, he would take his time to browse the books while glancing around as if to find something that is on his mind.

You observe him from your seat in the corner that is hidden from plain sight due to the shelves. Every time after he sees you, he would go to find a seat with any book that he is holding in his hands without any thoughts. He sits on a table further away facing you and you catch that his ears go red whenever you peek a glance at him. You keep that observation in the back of your mind, not knowing what to think of it.

You do shy away from the eye contact at the start. Distracted by his appearances in the library that now, you subconsciously anticipate him to visit the library when you do. You usually don’t want to think much about it so you won’t get your hopes up again stupidly but you do have your fair share of strange suspicions from him. Not just from the library, you see him lingering around at the places you would bump into him, like the bar, town hall, barn, etc. Whenever you are with Emile and you catch him looking, his face is always scowling while looking away.

You get out of your thoughts of Joel acting strange after you hear your name being called by Ellie from the front of your house. You take your tea and book inside before hurrying to the front door. You open the door to see her standing with a tight smile, holding something in her hands.

“What’s up?” You ask her with a confused look on your face, not expecting to see her.

“Thought you might want some company. I brought dinner,” she holds up the bag of food to tempt you.

“Sure, come in.” You invite her in the house.

Ellie goes straight to the kitchen to put down the food. Both of you help each other to set up the table to eat. After a couple of quick movements, you and Ellie are finally seated down facing each other.

“It’s been awhile since we hang out just the two of us,” she takes a little bite out of her vegetables.

“Yeah, I guess there’s been a lot of things going on.” You reply to her while picking at your food a little bit.

Ellie shares everything that has been happening with her. She talks about school and her friend, Dina, mostly. You have always thought that Dina is more than just a friend to Ellie from the way she talks about her. It’s cute but you’re going to let Ellie realise her feelings herself and talk to you about it at her own pace.

You listen to everything that she says and answers any questions that she has about the things she’s curious about. Eventually, she talks about Joel which is bound to happen anyway because she lives with that guy.

“Joel has been a little weird, man” she shares.

“How?” You question her, not giving that information that you find him acting strange too.

“I don’t know. He seems restless, moving around the house trying to find something to fix or whatever. It’s making me stressed.” She grumbles while shoving food in her mouth.

You just nod your head to her complaining.

“I’ve noticed that he plays the guitar a lot more now at the back porch, sometimes late into the night.”

Your mind goes to the guitar pick that you gave him. You wonder whether he still has it.

“Oh! He’s finishing the chess set soon. I think he said that he got a couple of pieces left before he’s done with it. I can’t wait to learn and play it.” She smiles at you excitedly.

“That’s good to hear. I bet you would be coop up in the house pestering him to play with you.” You grin at her after seeing her contagious smile. She giggles imagining herself doing that.

“I’ve seen the pieces that he’s done but there was one that stood out to me,” she smirks at you.

“What?” You genuinely ask her while picking up your glass to drink.

“It’s the only one with a lighter shade and has initials at the bottom of it unlike the rest.” She looks at you knowingly.

You almost spits out your drink but you keep it in causing you to cough painfully. Ellie looks at you concerned.

“You good?”

You nod while clearing your throat a little bit. She stares at you for a moment before speaking up.

“I’ve seen the initials. It’s yours isn't it?” She asks softly.

You pick at your food and finish the last bit on your plate. You look at her and sighs heavily before nodding your head defeatedly.

“Was that why you ask that question during the Never Have I Ever game?”

“Yeah,” her mouth curls at the sides.

“You little shit,” you scoffs remembering that game night.

“Did you give him that night when you confessed?” This time she asks with a serious tone.

“I didn’t tell you guys about that but yeah, together with a guitar pick and a letter.” You confess to her about it shyly.

“That’s sweet,” she gives you a reassuring smile. You smile at her before it slips thinking about that night’s harsh rejection by Joel.

“I thought he would throw it away,” you said in a somber voice, “didn't know he still has it.” You voice trails off, distracted by your thoughts of your chess piece among his.

“You know,-“ she pauses for a moment, hesitant to say the thing that is on her mind, “there are times I’ve seen him holding that piece and just stare at it.” Ellie observes you while trying to drink nonchalantly but her clumsiness overpowers it.

‘’What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrows towards her.

“Maybe he’s been thinking of you,” she shrugs her shoulders, raising her eyebrows with a little curl at one side of her mouth that you do not miss.

“Maybe he’s regretting what he did.” Ellie stands up to clear up the plates since the both of you are done with dinner.

You help out as well, wiping the table and countertop. The thoughts of what Ellie said bothers you while you are cleaning. After you are done, you lean your hip on the countertop and turns to Ellie who is still washing the dishes.

“You really think that he have feelings for me and is regretting his actions?” You ask for her opinion, staring at her side profile.

“Yeah and he’s probably feeling shitty about it. We all know he sucks at talking about his own feelings.” She wipes her hands on a towel before turning her body to you. “Hopefully he got the balls to apologise and make up to you soon.” She brushes past you to get a glass of water and heads to the living room.

You sit down on the sofa beside her, sighing heavily while you rest your head back on the sofa. You close your eyes trying to not let this soften your heart more for Joel. You are already weak for the man and you don’t want to easily forgive and forget what happened.

“Got nothing to tell me about Emile?” She slurps on her drink and eyes you suspiciously, smirking.

“What about him?” You open your eyes, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m just wondering how you feel about him now.” She turns to face you, folding her legs underneath her to listen to what you have to say.

You got no choice but to sit up straight seeing the excitement in her eyes. The smile that you try to hide slowly appears on your face. The way she wriggles her eyebrows up and down earns a scoff from you. You shake your head slowly at her innocence, reminding you of when you and your friends were talking about boys back in the days.

“He’s a nice guy. Sweet and polite. Comfortable to talk to, y’know.” You give her a forced smile trying to convince her. Nodding your head a couple times as if to tell yourself as well that there was nothing else to say.

“But?” She probes you for an answer with one raised eyebrow, suspecting there is more to the story.

“Nothing. That’s all.”

“Oh come on! Don’t lie to me,” she slaps her hands on her thighs and look in your eyes, not backing down.

“There’s nothing!” You raise your hands, palms facing up. “That’s what I’m saying.” Eyes wide, telling her the truth.

She looks at you with eyebrows pinched, confused look on her face. You take a moment to take a deep breath.

“I don’t feel anything more than a friend with him. Seriously. He reminds me of a close friend of mine in college. I miss that goofy ass fucker so much.” You laugh softly, thinking about your dear friend, Kai, that had been there for you through the rough patch of your young adult life.

You don’t know what happened to him after the outbreak. The last you heard from him was that he’s going overseas to start his own business abroad. Whenever you are down, you can hear him in your head telling you to keep your head up.

Ellie watches you reminiscing about your friend and you can see that her smile slowly fades as if she is thinking about one of her friends too. You had no intention to bring the mood down by thinking about the past so you keep on talking.

“Yeah. Also, he’s way too sweet for me. I’ve never seen that man pick up a gun before, not even a knife. Never gotten into a fight since he came here,”

“Oh wow. Even I almost got into a fight the first day here.” She looks away with an embarrassed smile.

“Of course you would.” Both of you laugh at the memory of Ellie getting agitated on her first day in Jackson.

“He’s lovely but the guys he hangs around with are assholes,” you can’t help but throw a disgusted look on your face thinking about Emile’s group of friends.

“I’ve noticed.” Ellie rolls her eyes.

“It seems like he owes them his life and can’t get himself out of their circle. I’m not surprised because he do seems like an angel, way too kind to other people.” You solemnly say thinking about how they treat Emile like a pushover sometimes.

You turn around to lean your back against the sofa again. Ellie stays put and as she looks around the house, she could see the window facing their house and catches Joel returning from his dinner at the cafeteria.

“Total opposite than that old fucker.” Her eyes are still fixed on Joel.

Your head snaps abruptly to her after hearing that and you turn your body completely to see who she is looking at even though you lowkey (pardon my gen z language lmao) have a clue who she is talking about. The view of Joel’s broad back can be seen heading to his front door with his head down. You wonder what’s on his mind. You absentmindedly stares at the house even when Joel is long gone from your sight.

“You still like him, do you?” You look at her, seeing a playful smirk on her face as she looks at you to prove her point wrong.

You stands up to face her, tilting your head to the door. “I think it’s time for me to get ready for bed.”

She do not make any moves except making an exaggerated face at you, rejecting your answer to her question. You laugh at her funny face, finding it really hilarious.

“Get your ass up and go,” you laughter eventually dies down. You clap your hands once, tilting your head again to the door, wanting her to leave.

She grumbles as she gets up and gathers her stuff. Ellie can’t help herself from teasing you, “I know you still like him.” She says in a singsong manner.

Only thing you could do is just to shake your head slowly with a lopsided smile on your face. You follow her to the door before she faces you again.

“I’m going to kick his ass until he get his shit together,” she determinedly says with a serious look on her face.

“If you say so, Ellie, I can’t stop you.” You raises your hands, palms by the side of your face in a surrendering way.

You open the door for her to walk out and both of you bid goodnight to each other.

The following night, Joel is found seated in his usual spot in Tipsy Bison. He is already a couple of drinks in than his usual intake in Jackson. There is a lot going on in his head and he wants to shut it out using alcohol. Tommy and Maria is seen walking towards Joel after spotting him as soon as he steps into the bar. Joel doesn’t know how but Tommy always coincidentally find him when there is something bothering him. It’s annoying but he’s grateful that his brother is always there for him.

“Are you drunk already?” Tommy eyes Joel closely. He lets Maria sit inside the booth first before sitting down next to her, opposite of Joel.

“No,” Joel grumbles before muttering again in a small voice, “just a little bit tipsy.”

“Something on your mind?” Tommy asks concernedly.

Joel didn’t answer, looking down at his glass, swirling the drink around in one hand. Maria who senses that she should let them talk privately, stands up and let Tommy know she’s getting drinks for the both of them.

When Maria walks away, Tommy asks Joel again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Joel purses his lips, staring at his little brother.

Tommy definitely knows that Joel is lying but he lets it slide. He knows Joel will come around and tell him the truth eventually. They both wait until Maria comes back with the drinks. As usual, the three of them are talking about the developments of Jackson and how to implement more improvements on certain areas when Joel sees you and Emile walking into the bar. He stops listening to what Tommy is saying immediately, his head is miles away from the conversation in just a snap of a finger.

Emile leads the way to a table for two that is empty, quite near the area Tommy, Maria and Joel are sitting. You are so into the conversation with Emile that you do not even stop talking as you sit down. Your seat is facing Joel but you still hasn’t notice him yet. You are talking about your favourite movies, debating with Emile, which 90s romcom is the best.

(Spoiler alert! If you haven’t watch ’10 things I Hate About You’ and ‘You’ve Got Mail”, I’m sorry)

“Nothing can top ’10 Things I Hate About You’ come on. Patrick, the so-called ‘bad & dangerous’ boy, got paid to take Kat, which is a girl boss by the way, on a date.” You try to convince Emile.

“Then he falls for her, she falls harder and then she got hurt thinking it was all fake when it’s not, then he bought her the guitar that she ever wanted and they kissed! Voila!” You explain the storyline animatedly, moving your hands around wildly.

“But have you seen ‘You’ve Got Mail’?” Emile shoots you an even more thrilled look.

“Of course,” you reply in a disbelieving look.

“The perfect enemies to lovers. The. Best.” Emile emphasises on the the last two words.

“You know what’s underrated?”

“What?”

“French Kiss.” You state it with a straight face.

“Wh-what?” Emile asks with widened eyes, eyebrows shoot up as high as it can go.

You hear someone coughing badly nearby but you don’t check who it is. It is actually Joel that is coughing. He was eavesdropping the entire time, watching you talk with so much passion about the movie. He obviously does not watch romcoms unless Sarah wants to. He heard about the movie you’re talking about before but did not have a chance to watch it.

Tommy and Maria were caught up in their own conversations that they didn’t notice you since you are not in their view or recognise your voice. Joel did not expect you to say French Kiss which caused him to choke on his drink. He covered his mouth as he coughs.

“Are you okay?” Tommy turns back to Joel hearing him coughing.

“Yeah.” Joel says in a strained voice, cleaning up where he had made a mess.

Are you flirting with Emile? Is that a hint that you want to kiss Emile? All kinds of thoughts are racing through his mind. He was not able to hear your explanation for that because he was coughing and was taken aback to process anything.

“French Kiss. The one with Meg Ryan in it as well.” you say, oblivious to what you had accidentally implied.

“Oh. The movie.” You find that Emile replies in a weird tone and you notice that his face is turning red. You do not say anything about it and continue to talk.

“Yeah. Have you seen it?”

“Unfortunately, no.” A disappointing smile on Emile’s face.

“Aw man, it’s kinda silly but I like that movie. Wish you could watch it.” Both of you finally comes back to reality knowing that there is zero chance that you could watch it again.

You hear your name being called and you look towards where the sound came from. Tommy is waving his arms to catch your attention but that wasn't what caught your eye. It is the man that is staring at you with a softness in his eyes that you have never seen in him before. You don't break eye contact with him until Tommy invites you to join them.

“You go first, I’ll get us something to drink.” Emile suggests and nods his head towards them. His hand rest on your shoulder for a moment to indicate that he will be back soon.

You thank Emile before making your way to them. As you come closer, Joel slides in more into the booth to give you some space to sit. It will be awkward for you to reject his gesture so you suck it up and sits beside him, facing Tommy directly.

“I didn’t see you just now, did y’all just came in?” Tommy asks you.

“Yeah, a couple minutes ago.” You nod your head profusely, your eyes darting from Tommy to Maria continuously. “What were you guys talking about?” You question, not knowing what else to talk about.

Maria explain to you that they were discussing about Jackson and how to progress it into a better community. You try to focus on what she is saying but the presence beside you cannot be ignored and you can’t seem to be able to turn your head to look at him.

Emile approaches and put down the drinks towards your side of the table. He is awkwardly standing trying to figure out where to sit. You move in towards Joel, your thighs and arms in contact with his and the three of you squeeze into one side of the booth. You lean forward to sip on your drink with your elbows on the table, trying not to touch Joel’s arms.

Tommy and Maria are amused by what’s happening, quietly observing you. You raises your eyebrows at the couple asking them to help you from this awkwardness. They glance at each other while trying not to smile.

“So I’ve seen the both of you together a lot these days.” Tommy gestures to you and Emile to address the situation.

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out.” You reply shortly to Tommy in a casual tone. “Why?”

“I’m just glad that you look happier and relaxed,” Tommy genuinely smiles at you.

“Well, it’s all thanks to Emile,” you look to Emile beaming at him, “you’ve been a great friend to me.”

“You too. I’m always here if you need me.” Emile look you in the eyes with a reassuring smile.

Joel clears his throat and taps his fingers on the table restlessly. Your face fell hearing that noise and turns back towards the table with your jaws clenched.

“You both good to go on a supply run next week? Just the two of you, like patrols.” Maria chimes in, asking you and Joel specifically.

You look over your shoulder at Joel and see that he’s already looking at you to gauge your reaction. His hand is scratching his beard back and forth mindlessly. He wants to know if you’re okay with it first before agreeing.

“I’m good,” you answer as you lean back against the booth which causes you to hunch your shoulders slightly due to the small space you have in between the men.

Maria looks at Joel for his reply and Joel gives her a sharp nod agreeing with you.

“It’s going to be further away than the previous times. Probably gonna be two days trip so get ready for that. I’ll tell you guys the details when it’s nearer to that day.” Maria explains without breaking any eye contact on either one of you.

The conversation continues between Maria and Emile as they talk about his duties and whether or not he has enough help in the library. As it goes on, you let the information of the supply run process in your head. It’s going to be a two days trip to look for more supplies with Joel. The longest time you’ve been with Joel alone is your usual patrols with him which last half a day only. How are you going to survive this trip? It’s funny that you’re more worried about Joel than being out there for 2 days.

Joel must have been worrying about the same thing because you can see him fidgeting with his hands that are resting on his thighs. His hands stop moving and your eyes slowly move up to his face. You freeze, not able to look anywhere else as he gazes into your eyes. To you, it seems like there is a lot that he’s saying behind those eyes. It isn’t threatening, It isn’t menacing. It isn’t judging you. He appears to look in your eyes as if to memorise the details of it. You can almost hear your heartbeat growing faster and faster.

Oblivious to you both, Tommy is watching everything that is happening. He has been secretly hoping for Joel to finally realise his feelings for you and make a move. Although it’s kind of shitty of him to use Emile but whatever it takes for that big brother of his to do something about it.

“Hey Emile, wanna join us for pool?” One of Emile’s friends, Jack, comes by the table to invite him to a game of pool.

Emile looks behind over Jack to see his group of friends at the pool table waiting for him.

“You can bring your mummy along if you want.” Jack points at you with a creepy smirk. He’s eyeing you up and down making you feel disgusted and angry.

“Uh-“ Emile tries to say something but you interrupt him.

“I’m not his mummy,” you snap at him with a deep frown on your face.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs, “you’ve been keeping him to yourself for weeks, who knows what you’re doing with him.”

You’re so close to getting up and punching the asshole in the face when Joel slams the table with his fist, causing everyone to flinch. You do not have to turn around to know how angry Joel is. You can see from Jack’s face that he’s now realising that there’s a big bad wolf waiting to pounce on him from beside you. Tommy’s body already facing Jack, ready to grab him if he says anything else.

“Fuck off before I break your fucking jaw.” Joel barks at him.

Jack scurries away, leaving the table in silence. You can hear Joel’s shallow breath from the anger.

“I’m sorry,” Emile mutters in a weak voice, his eyes facing downwards.

“You’re gonna keep your friend in check or what?” Joel growls at Emile.

You quickly turn your head around to face Joel angrily. Joel is not breaking his gaze from Emile. His eyebrows are pressed together, jaws clenched. Oh he is as furious as you.

“Or are you running your mouth to them as well that I need to straighten you out too?!” He hiss at him, leaning his body towards Emile to get his point across while you are caught in the middle. He’s almost caging you and there is no space left for you to lean back so you put your hands firmly on Joel’s shoulders, stopping him from pushing.

“Joel!” You look at him with a stern look causing him to look at you. Your hands are still on his strong and broad shoulders, which you wish you are touching them at a different circumstances.

“Enough.” You ordered.

Your hands slowly fall from his shoulders reluctantly. He sighs, looking away from you and moves back a little to give you space. You turn to face Emile again.

“You’re gonna go to them?” You asks him in a low voice, feeling sympathetic seeing him shaking slightly.

“I have to. I’m sorry for what he said,” He whispers, looking at you sadly.

“It’s not your fault. Let me know if anything happens, okay?” You reassure Emile, placing your hand on his arm.

He nods at you before getting up to face the rest, “I’m sorry, guys, for what happened.” HIs hands interlocked with each other as he looks at everyone on the table with a apologetic look on his face.

Tommy and Maria gives him a small nod in reply. Joel doesn’t even look at Emile, only gripping his glass hard. Emile walks off hesitantly towards his friends.

You face Joel, not wanting to let what he said to Emile slides.

“What was that?” You blurt out at him

“What?” He looks at you annoyed.

“Why did you lashed out on Emile?”

“That asshole is his friend. He should know better to keep his friend’s mouth shut.”

“It’s not his fault that his friend is an asshole.”

“So you’re gonna defend that boyfriend of yours now?”

You roll your eyes and sighs heavily. You move out of the booth, pointing at Joel and to yourself.

“You. Me. Outside. Now.” You stare down at Joel.

Joel looks up at you, seeing you ordering him around for the first time.

“I’m serious.” Not backing down even though he’s giving you his meanest face.

“Sorry guys, I’ll see y’all around. G’night.” You say to Tommy and Maria with tight lips. You look at Joel again and indicate with your head that you will wait for him outside.

The chilly air greets you as you step out of the bar. You can tell that the snow is going to come soon. You head to the bench by a tree right beside the bar to wait. You didn’t have to wait long before you see Joel heading towards you. He stops a couple steps away from you, rubbing his hands together, feeling the coldness of the night.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You get to the point right away. You want to clear every single speck of air between the two of you.

“Excuse me?” Joel frowns, not believing what he just heard.

“Did you not hear what I just said? I said,” you take a step closer to him, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you enunciated every word clearly to him, almost shouting because you are so angry and confused with him.

“You’re asking what is wrong with me?” He points at himself, one brow lifted.

You nod your head, eyes wide looking at him.

“No, what is wrong with you? You’re the one that keeps hanging around with that boyfriend of yours who cannot even stand up for himself.” he argues.

“He’s not my boyfriend! Also, you don’t even talk to him to know that he’s struggling to put up with that bunch of assholes.” you move your arms wildly, arguing with him.

“Oh give me a break,” he crosses his arms and lean his weight on one side, “I see him coming over to your house all the time.”

You look at him weirdly, “So?”

“So?” He sneers.

You gestures at him to continue his argument. He looks away for a moment, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts and looks at you again with a determined look on his face.

“So what Joel?”

“So you have feelings for him?” he mutters with a strained voice, feeling embarrassed with what he just asked.

“Me and Emile are just friends. Just like me and Tommy.” you don’t even know why you are explaining this to him.

“I see him bringing you flowers all the time,”

“And?”

“And I see how you look at him. Like how you look at me before everything that happened.”

You let out a sigh, looking down at your feet, tired of his hot and cold attitude.

“Joel, you rejected me like almost two months ago, literally saying I was stupid to have a crush on you in the apocalypse and that you don’t give a fuck about me.” You reiterate what he said to you.

“And now you’re here being jealous just because some other man wants me now? I don’t understand what you want from me, Joel. So please kindly explain yourself.”

He uncrosses his arms and take a step closer to you. He looks down at his boots, pursing his lips, gathering the courage to speak about his true feelings.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze moves to your face, eyebrows saddled.

Oh hell no. You have to keep it together to not fall for his big brown puppy eyes. This is the first time you can see that he’s being regretful for his actions.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I was being insensitive to you and there is no excuse for that. You’ve always tried to be nice to me but I was being a dick and kept pushing you away. And now I see him around you all the time and it hurts,” he closes the distance between the both of you, “it hurts to see that I’m not the one making you smile, I’m not the one making you laugh and I’m not the one holding you.” you look up at him, staring at his pleading eyes.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make it all up to you,” he whispers, you can feel his soft breath on your face. His fingers grazing yours and he timidly takes your pinky finger in his index finger and his thumb.

"Please forgive me." he begs you.

Your eyes are lock on his, silence fills the air surrounding the both of you.

"Give me some time and space to think about it. I'll get back to you, okay?" you let him know with a small voice before you get your pinky finger out of his grasp.

He nods at you slowly before moving his body out of your space, letting you breathe properly.

"It's getting cold out here, you better get back inside.” You move slowly out of the way to head home. “I'll head home first, goodnight."

"Goodnight, get home safely." he softly says before heading back inside to the Tipsy Bison.

You walk back to your house with so many thoughts running through your head. You already know that it's going to be a long night for you before you are able to sleep.

next part

Thank you for reading this chapter! Reader folding over the slightest bit of Joel displaying his emotions is so me coded lmao. I will update the finale in two weeks time!

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @rodriguez31 @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @macaroni676 @whirlwindrider29 @vickie5446 @uncassettodiricordi

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller angst

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thebluester2020 · 2 months ago

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[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 2: "Knotting"

Summary: After walking in on your boss and seeing that he was struggling with his rut, it's only right for you to let him knot you after walking in on him!

Warning(s): Gentle sex (Kinda? It's mostly focused on the reader being fucked while Lycaon has a knot ngl), Dirty talk, Lycaon being a tease,

Side Note(s): I should have mentioned this in my original post for Kinktober but I didn't so I'll mention it now—

These fics will unfortunately not be as long as the ones I typically write 😔. Here and there I may write something longer if I'm super duper inspired, or if I just find myself wanting more lore than anything but it'll be pretty rare since I'm pumping out a fic per day for this entire month 💪 ✨

Anywho— I hope y'all enjoy more of me ranting about how much I love the wolf guy.

"The least you can do...is help me..."

That was the last sentence you remembered Von Lycaon saying to you before you were snapped back to the present via a particular harsh thrust, a moan tearing from your throat as you clawed at the wooden floor underneath you. To own up to your mistakes, you should have taken a hint that there was a chance that Lycaon was doing something...private via the rapid panting and groaning you heard from behind his door when you returned fresh from running some errands.

Now you found yourself stripped of your clothes and lying on the hard wooden floor, Lycaon's torturing you with his slow yet fierce thrusts as he rocked you steadily on his knot, your head locked into a headlock as a trail of drool escaped the corner of your mouth and trailed down onto the wolf thiren's forearm.

"L-Lycaon—fuuckkk..." You dumbly moaned, not knowing if you pleading for him to speed up or to let you rest for a moment.

He took it as a sign that you wanted him to speed up, the sudden increase in pace as he fucked into you with more vigor making your moans increase in volume and frequency. Lycaon smirked at the lewd sound of your pussy struggling to take his fat knot, and here he thought you were actually telling the truth when you told him so eagerly that you could "help him"!

"Such a shame Miss Y/N, where did all your confidence when you barged into my quarters go?" He said into your ear, his teasing tone making you clench as you unconsciously scratched at his forearm, struggling desperately to keep your head above the waters and not completely drown in the addictive feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. "Surely you can last a few more rounds?" He panted.

"You owe it to me for such a blatant display of rudeness earlier."

His ear twitched at you whining out his name before he stilled with a guttural hiss at your umpteenth orgasm. The sheer force of your orgasm pushing out some of his cum that he had so dutifully stuffed into you earlier, the idea of his precious seed being wasted...especially after you had begged him to fill you up and use you as he pleased in order to ease his rut. Although you did well to reduce his rut, the feeling of your tight walls wrapping so snugly against his cock eased the burning feeling in his chest that he struggled to get rid of earlier.

Still, the idea of you pregnant and round with his pups.

He couldn't get it out of his mind, the mental image becoming clearer and clearer in his mind as his thrusts picked back up to the brutal pace he set earlier. "L-Lycaon?!" You gasped. "W-What are you—Ah!—I thought you were—"

The wolf thiren clicked his tongue. "I won't be done with you for a while Miss Y/N." He said. "Until my knot goes down, I'll be making use of your services until then."

It seemed you were in for a long rest of the day ahead of you.

#von lycaon zzz #zzzero #zzz #zenless zone zero #von lycaon smut #lycaon smut #zzz lycaon #von lycaon #zenless zone zero lycaon #lycaon x reader #zzz von lycaon #zzz smut #zenless zone zero smut #zenless zone zero x reader #smut writing #x reader #female reader

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sergeantxrogers · 6 months ago

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in the red dark

His eyes trapped yours in their vice-like grip as he stared up at you, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, and you swallowed heavily. You felt the rush of alcohol in your head fizzle out into smoke and embers as you sobered up quicker than you ever have in your life.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

Despite your heartbeat drowning out all sounds around you, despite the cold sweat on the back of your neck, despite the knowledge that you'll probably regret this - whatever this actually was - in the morning, you smiled.

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader is drunk (i apologise if that's not your thing), swearing, perhaps some sexual tension, mentions of pain, needles, tattoos, lots of love-at-first-prick energy, mentions of smoking/cigarettes

Author's note: You guys it's literally embarrassing how badly i've fallen off... LMAO i missed writing sooo so much but life has really got me by the balls these past few months. I hope y'all enjoy this and let me know if you'd be interested in a part two. Love u <3

__________

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

You didn't know if it was your heartbeat pulsing in your head, or the heavy beat of the music washing over your senses and travelling through your veins. You couldn't tell, but you truly didn't really care. Right now, your hazy, gin-and-tonic drunken eyes focused only on Wanda, her red hair reflecting the neon club lights, your gaze zeroing in on her lips mouthing the words to a song you couldn't even hear at this point.

You saw her smile, and, as if in reply, your lips tugged into a grin of their own. A wave of heat rolled over you as you danced with Natasha, and you brought up your hand that wasn't holding a glass of something that had begun to taste like water to fan yourself.

You felt, more than heard, Natasha yell into your ear, and you furrowed your brows, turning your eyes from Wanda to meet her gaze.

"What?" you yelled back, confusion marring your features. You saw Nat's shoulders rise and fall with the enormous sigh she took in, and you kept in your giggles.

She tugged on your arm, then pointed to the crowd behind you. More specifically, the exit that was on the other side of the club, blocked by hundreds of hot, sweaty, drunk bodies in their own little worlds - much like you were now. It clicked; you had been in the club drinking your asses off the past three hours, you were hot, your heels were killing you, and, quite frankly, you were running out of money for the night.

You nodded deeply and seriously, eyes screwed shut as Nat tugged Wanda's arm with one hand and yours with the other. Quickly, you downed the rest of the contents of your glass, leaving behind only a thin slice of lemon and a lipstick stain on the rim and snatched your bag off the table before the three of you decided to brave the large crowd that only seemed to grow bigger by the minute.

Holding hands and forming a sort of train, you made it through the suffocating crowd step by step, breath by breath, until, finally, you felt the cool late summer air caress your flushed face, the thumping bass of the club now seeming like a whole different dimension as the heavy door shut behind you with a click.

Wanda, perpetually happy, you've come to understand over the years, let out a raspy laugh.

"This place is fucking insane, guys! Holy shit!" she exclaimed, pointing a manicured finger at the door the three of you had just come through.

You hummed in agreement. "Yeah, why haven't we ever gone here before?"

Natasha, almost always the least drunk out of you three, let out a trademark sigh. She gave you a look you could only translate to 'seriously?'.

"What? I'm being for real," you frowned.

Nat rolled her eyes, then winced as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I know you are, it's just that we've never come here before because this was opening night. You know, the whole reason we even came in the first place? Jesus Christ, you two need some water."

All it took was for you and Wanda to share a look before you both burst out laughing. You leaned on her arm for support as your giggles died down, and you let out a big, happy sigh.

"Come on, we'll never grab a cab here - there's way too many people. Let's walk a couple blocks down," Nat said, stepping between the two of you and throwing her arms around your shoulders. "Can't believe I always get babysitting duty."

You and Wanda smiled coyly, seeing the playfulness glimmering in Natasha's eyes, letting you know she wasn't actually upset.

The three of you started your trek, slightly stumbling but keeping in a straight line for the most part. You had only walked about 150 feet when Wanda let out a gasp. You and Natasha both turned your heads to see what she was pointing so happily at, and when you saw what had made her gasp, you cocked your head in amusement.

Red neon light flooded your hazy vision, one word flickering and buzzing above your head in the dark - tattoo.

"It says they're open 24/7. Isn't that weird? Do you guys think we should all get matching tattoos? What should we get? Wait, do you think we even have enough money to get matching tattoos?"

Disappointment flooded Wanda's rambling, and you opened your mouth to reply, but Nat beat you to it.

"Wanda, we are not getting matching tattoos, especially not while drunk."

Staring at the sign above you, the red neon washing over the world, the soft buzz of electricity coming from it drowned out Wanda's complaining and Natasha's replies. They became background noise as you let the waves of alcohol make the decision for you, surprising even yourself when the words came out of your mouth.

"I want one."

Your two friends stopped their bickering and both stared at you, Nat with an incredulous look on her face, and Wanda with something a little more akin to amusement.

"Really?" they said at the same time, their tones matching their faces.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I feel like never do anything fun. Besides, what's the harm in it? It won't kill me," you said with a shrug.

Natasha's weary eyes gave you a once over, and she took a step toward you, putting a hand up to your forehead.

"Are you sure you don't have alcohol poisoning or something?"

You slapped her hand away with a roll of your eyes. "I'm fine, Nat, I just really wanna get a tattoo now. I already know what I want to get."

Even Wanda, whose idea it was in the first place, gave you a suspicious hum. "Nat's only asking because this really doesn't seem like you, Y/N."

The frustration bubbled in your chest before you could stop it, and you quickly shoved it down. They were right, after all - you were the type of person to never make any decision, big or small, without planning for it in advance and double, and then triple, checking you were absolutely certain. Everybody knew this, which was why your friends were doubtful.

Everyone knew this, yet no one knew how draining it was to always be on top of things. Nobody knew how exhausting to always plan everything out in advance to minimize the risk of anything going wrong as much as you could. School, college, dating, the things you ate, the places you went, the clothes you wore - everything was planned ahead, and, quite frankly, you were growing sick of it. Sick of yourself, almost.

With a huff, and a roll of your shoulders, you tugged your jeans up and lifted your chin. Then, without a word or warning, you turned on your high heel and pushed open the heavy glass door of the tattoo parlor, the bell over your head chiming softly as you walked through.

There's no going back now, a voice called in your head. You blocked it out. Good.

___________

Leg crossed over the other, you fidgeted with the rips in your jeans as you sat in the black, plastic chair in the front of the shop. After speaking to a girl who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but at work, she told the three of you to have a seat and wait a couple minutes while they got everything set up. She popped her gum as she left, and only in the sudden silence, surrounded by dark walls and miscellaneous photographs adorning them, the nervous flutter in your stomach awoke, sending a cold sweat to your palms.

So, here you were, almost two in the morning sitting between your two best friends, mentally preparing yourself to get a tattoo you didn't even know you wanted a couple of hours ago. Yet, no matter how nervous you were, there was still a bigger part of you, a louder voice in your head encouraging you that this was exactly what you wanted and needed. The seconds ticking by on the clock above you only further reassured you.

A warm palm on your ankle startled you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Nat, holding your gaze.

"Could you please stop jiggling your foot. You're making me nervous and I'm not even getting anything done."

You gave her a slight nod. "Yeah - yeah, sorry."

You hadn't even realized you were doing it, but it was a nervous tick of yours, a habit that you were never going to break. You turned your head to your other side, and Wanda's mischievous glint in her eyes made you shoot her a smile, growing your confidence by a little.

The soft chime of beads being separated made the three of you turn your focus to the doorway set in the left wall, the same unamused girl from before stepping through before gesturing for you to stand up.

"He's ready for you now."

"He? You're not gonna be the one tattooing me?" you asked nervously, your steps faltering slightly across the black-and-white tiled floor, and you hoped it wasn't too noticeable.

The girl shook her head. "Nope, I'm only here on an apprenticeship. I mainly just work the front desk and do other assistant-like bullshit for Barnes."

"Oh." You didn't know who Barnes was, but you could only assume he was the artist waiting for you behind the beaded curtain.

"Also, your girlfriends have to stay here. It's salon policy, sorry."

You turned back just in time to see Nat and Wanda lower themselves back in their seats, the three of you exchanging a look that showed you didn't believe she was sorry in the least.

"Okay. So, I just... walk through here?" you asked, pointing at the doorway.

The girl nodded, bored out of her mind already. "Yeah, there are two rooms. Go for the left one."

And that was apparently all you were getting out of her, because she turned around and walked away, taking a seat behind the large reception desk with a heavy sigh.

Taking one last look at your friends' reassuring smiles, Wanda sending you an enthusiastic thumbs up, you walked through the curtain with a deep breath. The beads drifted over your shoulders and thighs, then quietly fell back into place behind you as you stepped into the small dark hallway. Go for the left one, she said, so you did, forcing your feet to move forward, heels softly clicking against the tiles.

Oddly enough, the doorway on the left was bare, no door on the hinges and no beaded curtain hanging down, so you knocked on the frame and hesitantly stepped through. You were surprised to find the interior design completely different to the front of the salon - even the small hallway you left behind was dark and depressing, while this part of the shop had rich, shiny hardwood floors, a floor lamp standing in every corner washing the room in an orange hue.

You noticed the walls had less pictures than the ones in the front, but the ones that were hanging were big, framed, and beautiful.

"My buddy Steve painted those," a smooth voice called out, startling you, and you ripped your eyes from the paintings on the walls, not realizing how rude you were being just standing there without saying a word.

Your gaze quickly scanned the room until you found the source of the voice standing at the back of the room, leaning back against a table with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever words you were planning on saying died in your throat as you took him in. Dark hair, cropped shorter on the sides. Blue eyes underneath heavy-set brows, the bridge of his nose leading down to pink lips that were currently morphing into an amused smile. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw moved as he clenched his teeth, and you weren't sure if it was the alcohol in your veins speaking its mind, but you were pretty certain this had to be the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

"He - he's good," you managed to reply, and he lifted a brow.

"Your friend, I mean - seems like a great painter," you elaborated, gesturing weakly to the wall of canvases. He nodded in agreement, then pushed himself off the table he was leaning against, taking a few steps forward.

"You can lay down now if you want. It might be more comfortable than just standing there while we talk about what we're doing tonight," he said, nodding toward the black massage chair in the center of the room.

You nodded back, willing your ankles to keep steady in your now frustratingly high shoes, along with the gin still pulsing steadily in your head. You may have been even more nervous than you were now if it hadn't been for all the glasses you drank one after another earlier in the night. Right now, you were actually thankful you weren't completely sober for this, because you didn't know how else you would be able to handle the man's sea-blue stare that tracked your every movement as you lied down with such an intensity it made your cheeks burn.

Evidently, he must have noticed your jitters, because he pulled out a small leather stool on wheels and took a seat next to you. He softened his gaze and crossed his arms again. You couldn't help but noticed how peculiar they were - for no reason other than the fact that the short, tight sleeves allowed you to see they were completely bare, not one tattoo in sight on his perfect skin. Weird. Maybe he had tattoos in places you couldn't see, but before you could think too deeply on that and risk blushing again, you ripped your eyes back up to his.

"I'm Bucky," was all he said, voice now quieter and more laid-back, probably trying to help ease your nerves even more.

"I'm Y/N," you replied, then cleared your throat.

"I'm assuming this is your first ever tattoo?" he asked, and you winced a bit.

"It's that obvious?"

He - Bucky - gave you a small smile. "Kind of. But you also don't seem like the type of person to get a drunk tattoo at-" he checked the watch on his wrist "-1:52 a.m."

Check and mate. You gave a small shrug. "I guess people can be surprising."

He said nothing to that, only regarded you with a faint amusement in his narrowed eyes, before clearing his throat.

"And what did you have in mind? Kate up front told me you wanted a butterfly, but I need to know if you had something specific in mind?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping to leave the details up to you... I just know I want a butterfly, that's all.

"So, you're putting your trust in me completely, I see."

You felt your heartbeat trip over itself and you cleared your throat, nodding meakly.

"You know," he began as he stood and walked over to the table he was leaning on earlier, "butterflies symbolize transformation, and hope. Metamorphosis. Some also say they symbolize resurrection - triumph of soul over body."

Bucky spoke as he walked back, carrying a few papers and a box of gloves with him. He set the box down on the small table beside your chair, then handed you the papers.

"These are just a few sketches I did when Kate told me what you wanted, but I wasn't sure how big or small you wanted it to be, or where you wanted it to go, so there's a few options you could choose from."

You flipped through the pages, sketch after sketch filling your eyesight, and your breath stilled in your chest. These drawings were absolutely beautiful. Apparently, his buddy Steve wasn't the only one who was insanely talented. Your gaze snagged on one of the last sketches, a small monarch butterfly about the size of a silver dollar, gorgeous patterns covering its spread wings.

Bucky noticed you go still, and tilted his head.

"This one?" he asked. You simply nodded.

"Alright," he said softly. "Let me just prep the stencil and we'll be all set."

Focusing on keeping your breathing steady, in and out, you watched him get up and walk back towards the table. You took the time to admire the strong build of his back, shoulder blades visible under the tight material, triceps slightly flexing as he moved his arms, doing what ever he needed to do. The drinks in your system were doing little to help. In fact, they were just making it worse, sending flashes of heat flooding through your stomach and warming your body as you stared at him.

Sooner rather than later, he turned back around and you quickly tore your eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring, and instead focused your gaze on your painted toenails in your black heels. You clicked your shoes together a couple times, maybe out of nerves, maybe just for something to do, and Bucky sat back down on his stool.

"Alright, doll. Where's this bad boy going?"

You tried not to be so obvious with the way the name affected you, but the way it slipped off his tongue so easily, like it belonged there, had your hands sweating and breath quickening. You swallowed.

"M-my hip. I was thinking my hip."

Bucky cocked a dark brow. "Your hip."

The way he said it, not a question, but rather a statement, voice an octave lower than it was a moment ago, had you reminding yourself to keep breathing.

You nodded. His eyes flickered down to the aforementioned body part, then slowly made their way up, over your stomach and across your chest covered in a lacy top, across your neck, then finally met yours. This time, he was the one who swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he reciprocated your nod.

"Okay. Okay, that's good. That's a cool spot," he said, and then cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna need you to - to unbutton your jeans. So I can, you know, place the stencil and - and ink you, and stuff."

Your lips quirked up, finding it amusing how flustered he seemed to get now, instead of the other way around. A rush of confidence overtook you, whether it was from his stammered words, or the way his eyes had travelled your torso, or maybe it was simply your inebriation. It could have been all three. Whatever it was, it had you staring into his eyes as your hands found the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling the zipper down, then pulling one side of them down, folding it over itself so your underwear was on display.

Bucky's eyes tracked the movements, darkening when he lifted them back up to yours, and his jaw visibly clenched. You let out a loose breath through your nose and bit your tongue.

The silence between you two felt stretched taught and thin, palpable and ready to shatter at any moment as you stared at each other. He cleared his throat again.

"Would you mind if I smoke?" he asked, voice rough and resigned. You shook your head.

Pulling out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter from his pocket, you watched, slightly fascinated, as he pulled a cigarette out from the pack, brought it to his pink lips, struck the lighter and lit it, inhaling deeply. The smoke he blew from his mouth surrounded you, filling the air with a new, hazy tension. He kept eye contact as he threw his cigarettes and the lighter onto the small table, and pulled his stool closer.

He leaned down over your hip, then hesitated. Flicking his eyes up to yours, brows raised in question, you nodded.

Bucky's fingers softly, slowly, grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled it down a couple of inches, and when his fingertips brushed the delicate skin there, you felt a rush of fire burst through you, starting from the place of contact and going straight to your head. You tried focusing on breathing evenly, but that was difficult to do as you watched him reach behind and pull two black, latex gloves from the box he had brought earlier, pulling them on while studying the small expanse of skin he had exposed.

Your head swam, vision going in and out as you watched him carefully place the stencil he had made against your skin, adjusting it with one hand, pulling your underwear and jeans down with the other so they would stay out of the way. The cigarette dangled from his plump lips, and he pulled it out of his mouth, let smoke leave through his nose as he turned and set it against an ash tray.

He nodded toward the stencil. "Is this placement okay?"

You glanced down, seeing the fine, purple outline of the butterfly you chose on your hipbone, and you nodded. You couldn't help the small smile that reached your lips - it looked amazing already.

"Alright, doll," Bucky said, then carefully peeled the paper back, leaving just the drawing and goosebumps on your skin.

He stared at it for a moment, then frowned.

"What's wrong?" you asked, immediately worried.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly, I just don't think I can ink you in this position. The angle is awkward and the skin isn't tight enough so it might not end up the way you want it to."

"Oh," you said, the frowned yourself. "Well, what would work better?"

He gave a short shrug. "It would be best if you were standing, honestly."

Your mouth parted, but no breath escaped, and you nodded slightly. "Yeah. Okay."

The words came out quiet and breathy, and you hoped he couldn't notice the slight tremble in your arms as you lifted yourself out of the chair and to your feet beside him. Your underwear and jeans rode back up as you did, and you frowned, wondering if you chose a place that was too impractical.

Bucky, either noticing your frown, or noticing where your attention was, rolled his stool closer to you. Looking up at you, his hands reached up with slow, deliberate movements, a question in his eyes. You bit your lip, nodding, and turned to face him completely, standing between his legs, thighs enclosing your own.

You held your breath as his fingers pulled the front of your jeans down, exposing both hips and the front of your panties, and he paused, holding your gaze. You gave him no sign to stop, so he reached for the hem of your underwear again, pulling it down even more this time, exposing not only your hip, but your upper pubic area as well.

His eyes flickered to the skin there, quickly, then back up to yours, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. The cigarette was burning out in the ash tray, long forgotten but filling the air with wisps of smoke and the smell of ash.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but feel like the way you were exposed in front of him, lips inches from a place you'd like him to be, the way he was staring into your eyes, pupils dilated and intoxicating - it may have all been just a touch unprofessional. You shooed the thought away when his gloved fingers traced the stenciled out butterfly, and goosebumps rose on your skin again, stomach clenching involuntarily at the touch.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

Bucky gave you a sly smile, and shook his head, almost to himself, sucking in a deep breath before rolling back to grab the tattoo gun from the table. He moved the machine slightly closer so it had better reach, and you shifted on your feet nervously. At this point, you were more focused on the incoming pain than the pain already killing your heels and toes in your shoes.

"This is an area that usually doesn't hurt as much as others, but you'll still feel some discomfort," he told you as he fiddled with the machine and the gun, flicking it to life. The quiet buzzing filled the air, and you sucked in a sharp breath even though you nodded at his words.

He lifted his head to look at you, reaching a hand up to grab your other hip steady. "It'll feel like a buzz under your skin, or a slight stinging. If it gets too much for you, just squeeze my hand and I'll stop. I promise."

You made yourself look deep into his eyes and you noted the reassurance in them, so you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and nodded, screwing your eyes shut.

His grip on you tightened, and it was a mild comfort as he pressed the needle into your skin, inking the first few drops into your hip. The pain wasn't excruciating, nor was it unbearable, but it was surprising, and like nothing you had ever felt before. You let out a soft gasp as he worked, trying to keep still so as not to disturb him, but you couldn't help your hand that shot out to grab his wrist - the one on your hip. He paused and turned his focus up to you, tender worry in his blue eyes.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You clenched your jaw and nodded. "Just keep going, it's not that bad."

After a few more minutes, you seemed to get used to the stinging sensation, and now the area just felt numb. You had asked Bucky about it, but he smiled and reassured you that it was perfectly normal.

Your senses blurred together and you closed your eyes against all the stimulants - the smell of smoke still hanging in the air, the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the numbness in your hip, Bucky's firm hold on you and the strength of his wrist flexing beneath the palm of your hand.

You kept reminding yourself to breath, to focus on something else - anything other than the needle currently piercing your skin.

Bucky's fingers gave you a light squeeze, and you nearly trembled.

"Just a little more, doll, that's it. You're doing so good for me, you know that?" Bucky muttered softly, his breath warm against your bare skin, and you nodded even though he couldn't see.

"Just a few more seconds and we'll be all done, sweetheart, I promise."

"Okay," you whispered breathily and turned your gaze up towards the paneled ceiling.

"All done, doll," Bucky said, voice bringing your focus back to him. He switched the gun off and rolled back in his chair slightly to put it back where it belonged. He plucked a bottle of something off the table and grabbed a paper towel.

"This is just some antibacterial soap I'm gonna use to clean the ink residue off you, okay?"

It was all you could do to nod in response, and you watched him move as he cleaned the tattoo, then wiped it down carefully. You winced, and he frowned.

Bucky put the soap back and grabbed another similar-looking bottle.

"This is just lotion - it'll help soothe any lingering pain."

You stared in mute fascination as he spread the lotion across your hip, rubbing it in gently, then running his thumb across the fresh design. Your breath stuttered, and he tore his eyes away from the butterfly, clearing his throat. Once again, he turned back, putting the lotion in its place, then pulled out a box of large bandages from the lower part of the table, picking one up and peeling it open.

He pressed it softly against your tattoo, then made sure it was stuck on right, giving the area a soft stroke with his thumb again, and then he ripped his gloves off, throwing them in the trash beneath the table.

Bucky's attention finally, finally turned back to you, and he rolled himself into his initial position. His hands skimmed the sides of your thighs softly before they reached your panties, pulling them up and over the fresh tattoo. You held your breath when his knuckles brushed your lower stomach, and you could've sworn you heard him inhale sharply. A muscle in his jaw fluttered and he pulled your jeans back up too, zipping and buttoning them slowly.

He kept his stare straight, eyes on the button right in front of him, an you let out a slow, deep breath when his hands lowered from your hips, to the backs of your thighs, caressing them gently, even giving them a short squeeze.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, voice a raspy whisper.

You shook your head, eyes trained on him. "No."

He looked up then, and you felt your pulse pick up pace. You didn't know what to focus on - his eyes burning holes into yours, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs, or the fact that his face was inches away from your abdomen, breath heating it with every exhale.

"Good," he said simply. Quietly. "It'll heal in about two to three weeks, but you should avoid getting it wet and change the bandage as often as you can."

"M-maybe you could - give me your number," you stammered, and Bucky lifted his brows. "You know, so I can call if I notice something off, or - or if I need help with something."

He smiled, and this smile wasn't like any of the previous smiles. This one was a full-on grin, perfect teeth and dimples on display, making him look younger. You couldn't lie and say it wasn't one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll give you my number, but I want to be updated every day. It is your first tat, after all."

You grinned and nodded. "Alright. Deal."

"You're gonna walk out and pay Kate up front, and then I'll follow, as soon as I clean up here. 'Kay?"

You nodded.

"Good girl," he said, shooting a wave of heat through your body, and he gave your thighs a light slap before he rolled away.

The lack of his presence in your personal space felt jarring, like you had just been ripped away from the world and thrown into another, and you blinked the feeling away, sucking in a deep breath.

"Okay," you said, more to yourself than to him, and he smiled at you.

"Go. I promise I'll be out in a minute."

__________

Kate handed you your card back, and you were still trying to shake the shock of hearing the price off when the beaded curtain shuffled and Bucky came through in all his marvelous glory. Out here, in the open space of the front of the shop, he looked even taller, even wider, and you suppressed the urge to reach out a hand and touch him.

"Hey doll. Can't believe you didn't run away," he said with a half-smile, and you blew some air through your nose.

"Of course I didn't," you replied softly, then cleared your throat.

He held his hand out expectantly, and it took you a moment to realize what he was waiting for. "Oh! Right, sorry."

You tugged your phone out of your purse, unlocking it and handing it to him. You admired the way the screen lit up his face as his fingers flew across it, and before you knew it, he was handing the phone back to you with a smile.

He took a step forward, and you inhaled sharply.

"Remember, daily," he muttered, low enough only for you to hear, inches away from your face, and you could only nod.

"I promise," you whispered, and his smile grew.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and that made you tear your eyes away from Bucky's. Nat and Wanda were both standing by the exit, hands on their hips, staring between you and Bucky expectantly.

"Right, we'll just be going now," you said, trying to hide the surprising disappointment in your voice as you gestured with your head to the door. "Thank you for everything. I love it."

Bucky slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave you a genuine smile. "The pleasure was all mine, sweetheart."

You held his eyes even as Nat grabbed your arm and dragged you through the door, the bell chiming and tinkling above you, and Wanda called out a goodbye over her shoulder as the three of you left.

The cool night air enveloped you completely, and at this point, you were sober enough to feel a chill trickle through your bones. You shuddered.

"Jeez, what time is it, anyways," you mumbled, rubbing your arms to gather some warmth. You paused your movements when you noticed the looks on your friends' faces.

"What? What happened?"

Nat scoffed. "What happened? What happened with you? In there! With that beefcake of a man!"

Wanda chimed in excitedly. "The way he was looking at you? Phew, it was growing way too hot in there, to be honest."

You blushed, rolling your eyes, and began walking. "C'mon, guys, don't be childish-"

"Are you gonna go out with him?" Nat interrupted, linking an arm through yours.

"He hasn't asked me," you said blankly.

"Well, he definitely will," Wanda said with a matter-of-fact shrug. "I could see it in his eyes."

"Who would've thought - Y/N getting her groove on with the tattoo artist-"

"Ew, groove? Seriously, Natasha, who says things like that-"

"Stop trying to act like we're not totally right here."

You sighed and shook your head, but couldn't help the smile that rose to the surface. "Yeah, he is pretty hot."

The three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you walked, trying to find a taxi to hail before you froze your asses off.

"So... can we see the tat?"

282 notes · View notes

heartsofminds · 1 year ago

Text

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.”

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have.

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him.

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing.

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be.

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?”

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.”

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used.

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.”

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan.

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving.

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options.

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more.

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time.

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt.

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is.

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman.

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop.

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him.

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.”

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs.

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed.

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that?

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy.

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once.

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.”

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go.

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason.

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans.

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.”

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.”

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.”

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her.

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him.

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.”

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year.

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry.

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl.

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort.

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.”

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.”

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks.

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures.

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be.

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid).

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox.

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms.

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?”

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears.

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair.

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs.

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?”

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick.

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?”

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween.

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.”

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated.

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is.

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest.

God, this girl is so dramatic.

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness.

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.”

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can.

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why.

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.”

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby.

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.”

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him.

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.”

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return.

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.”

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up.

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.”

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle.

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends.

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him.

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue.

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them.

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion.

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?”

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.”

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?”

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!”

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.”

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –”

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend.

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar.

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up.

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew.

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face.

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there.

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice.

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight.

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed.

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night.

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello.

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume.

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley.

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak.

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?”

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween.

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy.

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet.

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.”

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows.

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm.

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!”

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize.

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically.

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.”

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head.

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in.

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley.

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened.

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles.

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her.

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.”

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.”

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in.

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead.

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway.

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses.

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips.

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.”

“She’s what?”

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!”

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately.

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him.

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex.

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding.

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad.

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position.

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder.

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.”

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now?

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.”

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?”

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for.

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him.

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself.

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.”

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand.

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.”

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father.

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be.

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her.

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.”

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews.

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby?

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest.

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor.

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017).

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob.

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week).

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores.

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention.

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?”

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you.

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there.

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken.

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that.

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language.

Fuck. Why do I always do this?

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in.

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend.

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces.

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind.

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.”

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –”

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off.

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you?

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use.

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –”

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.”

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you?

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.”

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you?

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table.

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.”

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?”

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble.

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you.

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it.

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend.

Some things just aren’t meant to be.

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha.

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,” Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth.

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth.

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks.

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?”

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry.

“You what?”

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.”

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?”

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron.

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him.

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?”

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact.

“You did what?”

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.””

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say.

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.”

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it.

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all.

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person.

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain.

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago.

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how.

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.”

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you.

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