#ignore the fact that he can turn into the size of two cars

[wistrea]

if you asked kira who her best friend was, she would immediately say it's sanzu ... and if you don't know who sanzu is, then she'll introduce you to her raven familiar <3

[monzabee]

partition - lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader 

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.

He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”

The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling  to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.

“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.

“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”

Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.

“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”

Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”

With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”

Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.

You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.

He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”

“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.

Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.

He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.

“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.

The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.

As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.

Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.

Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.

“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.  

He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”

Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you  tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”

He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”

“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”

“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.

Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.

You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.

Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.

Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”

“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”

The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.

“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.

You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.

He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.

Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”

“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.

A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.

“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”

“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.

“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”

Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.

[cakelitter]

Apple Of My Eye

Older! Leon x Fem! Reader (oneshot)

warnings: angst, fingering, oral (f recieve), p in v, daddy kink, makeup sex

summary: Leon and reader get into their first argument, but Leon apologizes in his own way.

words: 3.1k

a/n: i'm writing so much older Leon fics but this man lives in my head rent fucking free omg

Everything is going to shit.

Words were said, things were done, that all cut through you like a knife. This is your first actual argument, not just a simple misunderstanding or a silly disagreement. But a full-on fight.

To rewind, you and Leon were supposed to have a nice dinner date, romantic and sweet. Something the two of you haven’t had the chance to do since he’s busy all the time. You got ready, all dolled up and looking the best you’ve ever looked. You wore his favorite dress, painted your nails his favorite color, put on the kind of make up he likes. You wanted this to be special, a night to remember.

But he forgot, leaving you sitting at that table in the restaurant for an hour and 37 minutes to be exact, like an idiot. No text explaining why he was late, and wouldn’t pick up his phone either. By the time he arrived you had already downed most of the bottle of wine the two of you were supposed to share, and was feeling full from the sympathetic stares the waiter and other guests were giving you.

Worst part, he didn’t even apologize. No “Sorry baby, I had something come up at work” no nothing, just sat down, looking at you like what he did was normal. You decided to suck it up and continue on with the night. Trying to be the bigger person even though he’s twice your age and your size. Sure, you still had a bit of an attitude, some short answers, and not clawing to get closer to him like usual, but you have the right to.

Apparently not, cause he decides to get all pissy with you. Giving you glares from across the table, and in general being petty. It was clear to you, and to everyone around, that your nights wasn’t going great. You both end up leaving the restaurant after 30 minutes of his arrival, neither of you finishing the meals you ordered.

The car ride back to you shared apartment was quiet, but the tension was no joke. Instead of the normal sexual tension you both experience after these usual dates, or even just being around each other in general. There was the tension that made your heart sink and your throat tight. His eyes fixated on the road, both hands on the wheel gripping it firmly till his knuckles turned white, instead of having one in between your thighs like usual. You can’t tell who’s ignoring who, or who is more pissed at the other person more. Your mouth didn’t utter a peep, when shaky breaths and pleading words should be escaping it at this point. You hoped that once you get home, the two of you would have cooled down a bit and would talk it out like you always do.

Yet again you were wrong. As soon as you arrived back home, he slams the door behind the two of you. And starts to speak through gritted teeth.

“What he fuck was that whole fuss about?”

Turning around, you don’t know if you’re more shocked at the tone he is addressing you with or the fact that he genuinely doesn’t see what he did wrong.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you left me there for almost two hours without explaining even why?!”

He scoffs, fucking scoffs. “What, am I supposed to give you reports on everything I do now? What I’m doing and who I’m with?”

“Leon, you can not be serious right now. All I wanted was for you to simply give me a heads up telling me that you were gonna be late.”

“Well, I was clearly busy. I’m sorry that I have a real job and responsibilities that I have to deal with.” Why is he acting like you don’t know that? like this is new information to you? In the past 2 years of your relationship, you have understood how demanding Leon’s job is, and have always been patient.

Going on missions for days and not being able to contact you. You get it, he should focus on his mission and getting home safe. Canceling plans with you last minute cause he was needed at his work. That’s fine, he can’t control it anyways.

But he always made it up for you. Taking the next day off to spend time with you, consoling you, spoiling you with gifts if he couldn’t be there physically with you. He has never gotten angry at you or talked to you in this tone before. He has never refused to apologize, and always tried to reach a solution. But now he is choosing to argue with you.

“You know how much I respect your job and how patient I am when it comes to this topic. But I can’t always brush off the feeling of neglect sometimes.”

“Well maybe you need to stop being so fucking needy.”

Ouch.

He always had loved it when you were needy though, loving the way you’d sit on his lap and shower him with kisses as he worked, loving how you needed to be close to him on the couch while watching a movie, loving the pout you do when he leaves for another mission.

You compose yourself, and start thinking of why he’s acting this way. Is he having a bad day? Did he get bad news before he came to see you?... Is he done dealing with you?

The last possibility makes your heart drop as you try to shoo that evil thought away, but it sticks like cigarette smoke on clothes.

“Are you having a bad day? Is there something bothering you?” your voice is gentle and understanding, trying to deescalate the situation. But he replies with the same harsh tone.

“Yeah, I’m tired of constantly dealing with your bullshit.”

…

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair and looking away from your face. You stand there, not knowing what to do. Feeling so stupid, just staring at him, praying he tells you that he didn’t mean that, that this was all a mistake. To pull you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear like he always does when you’re upset.

He was always so gentle with you, from his actions to his words. Scared to be too rough with you while play fighting as if you’re going to break. He constantly reminded you of how much you meant to him, how much he missed you on missions, and how much he couldn’t wait to be with you again. His sacred treasure, the apple of his eye, the love of his life.

But now, it all came crashing down with the venomous words he’s saying. Dropping your glass welded heart from what feels like a 13-story building, then proceeding to run over whatever survived. The burning sensation in your throat is starting to get hard to ignore, you try fight it off but to no use.

“What, are you gonna cry now like you always do?”

And that’s all it takes for tears that have been brimming in your eyes to finally break free dropping down to your cheek as your lip quivers. Yes, you are crying like you always do. Feeling so humiliated, tears blur your vision as you turn around and walk to your room shutting the door behind you.

You’re so upset. Sadness mixing with anger creating a disastrous cocktail causing your throat to burn like hell. And to make things worse, you can’t even go to the person that knows how to comfort you best, cause they are the reason why you feel like this in the same place.

Laying down on your side of the bed, tears are practically soaking your pillow. You’ve been crying for what feels like hours now and you’re sure your eyes are going to be swollen as fuck the next day. Multiple sobs, tears, and sniffles later, you fall asleep. Pass out is a better word for it actually. Only to be awaken by a knock on the bedroom door. You ignore it, and close your eyes again.

“Baby, please, let’s talk.”

You ignore again, hoping he takes the hint and leaves you alone. But he doesn’t. He opens the door slowly and looks over to your huddled figure laying on the bed. You’re clearly cold, legs tucked close to your chest, and your face nuzzled into your pillow as much as possible. He sighs, walking over to the bed, and lays down next to you with you back facing him. He stares at you for a bit, knowing that you’re not asleep, he knows your breathing a little too well. He scooches over placing an arm around you, and places a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“I’m sorry baby, I was being an asshole.” He whispers, planting another kiss.

You don’t reply, but you do open your eyes. Noticing that, he continues.

“I was just stressed from all the bullshit going on at work and… took it out on you. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have done that.”

…

“Those hurtful things, I don’t mean them. God, I don’t mean a single word I said.”

That last sentence was all it took for you to start crying again. But this time, those arms are around to pull you in. He turns you around and places you against his chest as you let it out. An arm is behind your back rubbing up and down soothingly, while the other helps getting your hair out of your face.

“Shhh it’s okay.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Are words he repeats in a tone juxtaposing the one he was using a couple of hours ago. This is the Leon you’re used to. Calm, and feels like home. The warmth of his body helps warm you up and the arm rubbing your back, helps ease your breathing back to normal. After a few minutes you calm down, and look up at him. He smiles kissing your forehead.

“Was Daddy mean to you earlier?” he asks and you nod.

“Want him to kiss it better?” you nod again.

He smiles softly and starts tenderly kissing your lips, your forehead, cheeks, and jaw.  Each kiss was full of affection and pure sincerity. You started sensing that warm feeling in your chest, heart beat regulating, and lips curling up into a smile as he kissed every single inch on your face. You’re not sure you quiet understand the science behind this technique and how he can manage to lift up your mood with a few kisses and his heart-warming voice. But it somehow always works.

However, can’t tell if it was the sudden change in your mood or his hot breath and soft lips on your face, but the wholesome warm feeling in your heart switched at one point, to heat pooling between your thighs. And soon enough you started being needy again.

“Daddy. Want more.” You muttered, making him stop momentarily to respond.

“Want what baby, you need to tell daddy what to do so he can help you.”

You start feeing a little shy to word it out for him. Normally he would keep you being a needy squirmy mess till you say it yourself. But he was already mean to you today, so it’s only fair to help his girl out.

“Want Daddy to kiss you somewhere else?”

“Mhm”

“Where?”

“My pussy.”

How could he say no to that face. Lips puffy, eyes glossy, and lashes wet from your tears. Humming in agreement, he places one final kiss on your lips and moves down between your thighs, spreading them open for him. You were still wearing your dress, so he was immediately greeted with the lace panties you wore for him. Running his finger up your cunt, he can already feel the dampness through the thin fabric.

“Damn baby, you wore all of this for me? God, I don’t deserve you.”

He says planting an opened mouth kiss on your clothed clit making you whine. Bunching up your dress, he grabs the hem of your panties sliding them down and shoving them in his pocket. He runs his tongue up your slit, and it feels warm as he tastes you. Spreading your cunt open with his fingers, his mouth starts sucking on your clit as shaky heavy breaths escape your mouth.

His blue eyes meet yours as he continues guzzle your pussy up while occasionally fucking his tongue into you. He laps up every single fluid that comes out, appreciating every drop. Eventually, he rewards you with one of his fingers penetrating inside of you and fucking into you at a slow pace as he pulls the hood of your clit back and continues sucking on your bundle of nerves.

Moments later he removes his mouth off of you, wanting to watch your expression as he sticks another finger into you. Your mouth opens slightly as a broken sound leaves your throat. His fingers were thick, much thicker than yours. The rough skin on them making your back arch at the sensation.

“So fucking pretty.”

You can’t tell if he’s addressing you or your dripping pussy as your eyes flutter shut when his palm makes contact with your cunt. He starts moving his digits in and out of you, mouth finding it’s way back to your clit once more. Your hips start squirming in place as he uses his other hand to hold you down in place. His digits then begin scissoring you open while his tongue flicks your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Amidst the intense feeling of pleasure, you grab his hair pulling his face towards your dripping cunt even more. Grabbing Daddy’s hair and not being gentle with it is against some of the rules the two of you have established. Leon is going above and beyond to make sure he doesn’t go bald, avoiding it like it’s the plague. Hence, pulling it, is something he would normally spank you for, fuck you roughly while pulling yours to make sure you always remember. But he’ll let it pass this time.

You start babbling, the pleasure fogging up your field of vision, and the ability to form a coherent sentence, but he knows your having a good time.

“Daddy, can I please cum?”

“Do whatever you wanna do sweetheart.” As soon as you get his permission, you reach your peak with a squeal, letting go of his hair and clutch instead on the white sheets beneath you. His fingers continue moving, easing your way back down from your high. And he eventually removes his fingers out of you, placing a final kiss on your clit before looking up at your blissed out expression.

He gets up, ready to run you a nice bath to relax, but you refuse.

“Want you.”

You say looking up at him. He smiles and replies.

“I don’t know baby. Don’t think it’s fair that you get punished for not behaving and I don’t.” You whine, a pout forming on your lips. Even though you just came, you fear that you’ll never satisfied till he’s deep inside you.

 You tug on his shirt, eyes pleading, batting your lashes at him the way you do, decreasing is chances of saying no to zero.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Plus, that boner of yours looks pretty painful.” You retort, pointing at the way his dick is begging to be released out of his jeans.

“You sure?” You eagerly nod, and before you know it, your hands are already undoing his belt. He helps you out, taking his pants and shirt off while you strip out of your dress as well.

“How do you want me?” he asks as the two of you sit naked on the bed.

You put your finger on your chin, squinting your eyes as you think.

“On your back.”

He complies, resting his head against the pillow as you crawl over you him, placing a gentle peck on his mouth. Your legs straddle him, grabbing his dick and rubbing it up and down your leaky slit. He grits his teeth, eyes fixated at your motion before you start nudging it as your entrance.

You drop down on his length, making the two of you moan in unison as you bottom out on his dick, his hands involuntarily reaching over to grab the fat on the side of your hips. You don’t take too long to adjust thanks to his fingers warming you up earlier, and soon enough you start bouncing.

Placing a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you increase the pace while occasionally grinding your hips on his skin to get more friction on your clit. One of his hands leave your hips, making its way to your lips as you take two of his fingers into your mouth. He groans at the view in front of him.

“Fuckkk, such a good fucking girl.”

Moments later however, you start getting tired. Poor thing, doing all the work by yourself. You were always destined for princess treatment anyways.

“Getting tired?” he asks through heavy breaths, and you mindlessly nod.

Grabbing your hips once more, he plants his feet on the bed and grabs you pulling your body closer as he starts drilling into you. Your head falls back, all of that sadness you experienced before disappearing with each thrust of his hips. His dick feels amazing inside of you, hitting all of the sweet spots with each move.

The familiar sense of release starts approaching. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as you start chanting “daddy” over and over. You don’t even need anything from him, but he’s all your mind can think about.

“I’m right here, cum for me.” And you do. Your body convulses as sweet release takes over you. Leon moans from how tight your walls are gipping him. Dick throbbing inside of you as he fucks you through your release and starts chasing his. Picking up the pace even more, he feels himself getting closer and closer to his own climax.

“Where do you want it baby?” he asks through greeted teeth. You mind is complete mush at this point, completely and utterly cock drunk. “Inside please.”  Look at you, still using words like please and thank you even in this state.

He was hoping you would say that, he doubts he’ll make it in time to pull out anyways. Leon’s releases washes over his as he spurts his cum all over your walls, while crashing his lips into yours. You kiss him back, moaning as you feel so full and warm from the inside. His hips slow down and eventually reach a stop, and both of your bodies relax. Lips separating, you stare into each other’s eyes for a bit, one of his hands runs through your hair delicately, before cupping your cheek. You tilt your head, resting its weight on his palm as he strokes your face with his thumb.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

banner by @/anitalenia

[thegnomelord]

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself. 

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back. 

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake. 

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release. 

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach. 

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

 Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter V — "just one."

Deep down.

Toc/cw; mdni!!!!!!!!! MATURE CONTENT!!! Fingering(f. Receiving x2) multiple orgasms, heat funk, yunho is a pleaser. Biting, Begging, & Big dick!yunho (duh). Mention of size difference, unprotected sex but don't worry men have unrealistic birth control(amen), cum eating(x2), knotting, slight overstim. Aftercare, cuddling, lots of kissing and fluff, yunho is a service dom omfg. Slight breeding kink if u squint. Joong is a little shitbird, joong teasing you, lots and lots of teasing. Breast worship. edging. Left Unfinished(m!(un)receiving). It's okay tho. Overwhelming tears from stimulus. ussy drunk. Cockadoodledo drunk. What else kinda drunk is there yknow. DONT READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE!! JUST BLOCK OR SKIP ☆ thank yew. Also, completely fiction.

pet names/nns; baby, omega, pretty girl, angel, _ girl (yours). Yun, alpha(yunho). Joong(hongjoong). Hwa(seonghwa).

Wc; 11.6k!! (I figured out how to wc r u proud?)

Yunhos friends have no clue why he left so abruptly, texts flood his messages and calls that immediately get put on hold, but besides that, he's too busy on the phone with you, ignoring all of them just to help you. He texted seonghwa as fast as he could when he was walking down the sidewalk. Surely all typos. Yet no response from the eldest member. His car is a silent buzz as he flows down the highway back to the apartment where he knows you are. He's glad he didn't drink, he was supposed to be the driver for the night, he's gonna have to apologize about that later. The heat in his fingertips dig into the cold steering wheel. When he tries to distract himself from the gasps and whispers you produce on the speaker of his phone- slotted into his cup holder.

Begging for him to be there, asking for him. Maybe he even ends up regretting going out at all. Truly, it was to distract himself from you. To get away from your scent and your words and everything in-between. He shoulda known in your heat it's not safe for you on the floor of your apartment complex. The last two floors are full of alphas and betas.

Omegas have their own section of building just for this reason. And yet he still thought it was safe to leave you at home with his other members who he knows will take care of you if anything, who are probably completely passed out and oblivious to your quickly arriving heat. You could easily slip out of your room and wake them up, could even leave the apartment and knock on the next door where many other alphas live. Who yunho assumes would gladly help poor omega you out.

You called him, though. Yunho feels obligated to take care of you like the alpha he should. He's with you, soul and spirit, dedicated to help you through this. Even if he isn't there in person yet. Yunho tries to even his breathing, even if for a moment.

"You still there omega?" He asks, you've been silent since you begged for him to be there with you. Since he said he was gonna take care of you. "Yes.. 'm still here alpha" your whisper is more of a whimper. And, holy shit. Yunho's pants feel tighter the way you say it. His finger flips his blinker on as he nears the exit.

“It- yunho-” the shuffle of you stuffed in your closet gets yunho's cogs moving again. “I know baby” it just slips. “You can wait, yeah?” his teeth pry on his bottom lip. Turning off the exit.

“No, i can't- it's too much” your cry makes him take a quick inhale. “Okay, okay” yunho knows the route to the apartment. He knows it very well in fact. He takes the shortcut. “I'll help you out as much as I can,” yunho's head falls to his seat. “I need you to lay on your back for me” he commands.

You shuffle to do so, pushing the phone as close to you as you can as if it will get Yunho closer. Yunho swallows the saliva in his mouth, gulping down his nerves.

“I need you to prep yourself, you can do that can't you?” he tells- no, he's asking you. Genuinely wanting you to answer him. Shuffling of fabric already tells him the answer, never in yunho's wildest dreams would he have had one of his life long fantasies come to life. Porn isn't the same when it's you, the bane of yunho's existence, doing exactly as he says.

Your fingers work diligently to peel off your pants- shorts- whatever and everything other than your shirt. Struggling in the confinement of your tiny closet and tiny nest. “Okay” you say into the speaker, panting heavily. Brain full of flowers and the scent of yunho under the amount of clothes you're sitting on top of. “I can do it”

Praise falls off the tip of the gray haired alpha’ tongue. Turning into the parking garage. You are in this building, so close, yet so far. Before Yunho hops out of his car, he picks up the bag he left earlier in the day from his back seat, stretching to grab it. He shoves his hand into the plastic bag to grab the small bottle. Just in case, he tells himself. The tall man pops open the lid after a few seconds of reading the label, dryly throwing back two sea blue colored pills. Birth control,(more like sperm control), two just in case. Yunho knows it's the fast acting kind- which the label said. For emergency purposes. This is definitely one of those emergencies.

Of course, the elevator rises very slowly. His fingers fiddle with his phone nervously pressed up against his ear. Your sighs and silent words make Yunho's pulse speed up.

The floors begin to level out, no longer in the parking lot, 1, 2, 3 and so forth. He counts every number, every level pass. Finally, It reaches your shared floor. Yunho doesn't even let the doors open fully, thankfully, your scent isn't in the hallway. So you must not have left your room since calling him. He pulls out his wallet, pushing through them for the keycard to the apartment. “I'm outside the apartment okay? I'm hanging up, I promise I'll be right there, I'm just outside” he hangs up before you have a chance to speak. He knows if he hadn't he might have forgotten about turning it off. Yunho isn't in the mood to have a dead phone because he left the call going.

As soon as he gets the door open, he isn't wasting time to take his jacket off. His shoes, though, get kicked off and left messily behind him. The door clicks shut, locking automatically. The apartment is void, no movement or sounds that meet yunho upon entering. Yunho takes quick strides to your bedroom door, the same scent from before becoming more powerful. More sweet and more alluring. He knocks gently, before pushing it open.

You're nowhere in sight, Yunho feels like a predator stalking your whereabouts when he enters your room. He hasn't been here for a while, he closes the door behind him, locking it with a click. He calls your name gently. Your messy head is the first thing that catches Yunho's eyes. Followed by you kicking the blanket off your feet in the closet, stumbling over to him.

You practically pounce into his embrace, curling your legs around his hips. He helps you the rest of the way, wrapping his arms around you to hold you up and grabbing your waist in his tight grasp. Yunho can feel the heat radiating off of you. He's lucky enough that he's still cold from the nightly weather outside. You are like a fireplace, steaming up on impact with his cold body.

You get as close as you can, shoving your face into his primary scent glands. Your heels digging into him to bring him further into you. Soft whining of his name as you swish your lips around his neck, pushing your scent out.

Yunho needs to take a deep breath. And assess what he's got to do. You're very obviously in an omega mindset, clinging to him like a lifeline. His hands slide up to hold your thighs, soft and pliable under his firm grip. You wiggle from the grasp.

“Did you prep?” he asks, swaying over to your bed, it's large enough to hold the two of you. You shake your head. “I need words, omega” he pulls your head from his shoulder, his knee hits your mattress. Still supporting you, Yunho slowly leans down to plant you on your bed, sitting on his knees between your legs. Watching your head fall over one of your pillows he swiftly slotted behind you. “No, I couldn't,” your pouty lips make Yunho mimic your face with his own smirky pout. “You need me to do it for you baby? Is that what you want?” Yunho unhooks your legs from his lean waist, holding your calves between his large hands. They almost wrap around them entirely.

He scans the way your chest falls with every breath, an oversized plain white shirt. And of course, no bra. Which yunho somehow knows you can only sleep comfortably without. Lastly, the shirt only rides up enough to see that you aren't wearing shorts. He can't torture you any longer, your eyes are begging, hands grasping at his jacket, hoping to tell him to take it off. He drops his hands from your calves to slot it off over his heavy shoulders. Sighing into your palm when you bring him back down and towards your lips.

You taste how you smell, only heavier. More heavenly to yunho. His tongue prides into your bottom lip. You slip it open to let him in, moaning into his mouth. His hands wonder, finding his way to your thighs and up, closest to where your hips jut out upon impact. Wet, Yunho sucks on your tongue when he pulls back, eliciting another strangled moan out of you that has him pulsing. “Yunho” you call out, whining. His fingers slide under the shirt and over your underwear, caressing your soft skin. “You need me here? is this where you want me?” he teases with his questions, drinking in your expressions. You nod eagerly. Yunho’s long digits pull the hem to the side to push his thin fingers through your folds. Watching you for a reaction with lidded eyes, biting back his lip. You preen, head falling back, hips twitching. He gathers the slick you produced, making sure to rub it around his two digits to lube them up up and down, poking and swirling around your clenching hole.

The tip of his middle finger prods into you, fully being embraced by your walls. Yunho's fingers are long and big, definitely bigger and longer than yours. His thumb angles up to rub into your sensitive bud, gathering slick on the way, slow calculated circles that have you writhing for more. Yunho's finger begins curling up into you, pressing against your soft gummy walls. Yunho didn't think he'd get to see you like this, get to feel you like this. “More, please, please alpha” you cry out, biting against the arm slotted over your face. And he obliged, pushing his pointer finger into you. It's an easy slip, thanks to your dripping core. Yunho moans quietly at the pulse of your heartbeat at his fingertips.

You're so unbelievably horny that you're pulsing for him. Muffling your whiney breaths. Yunho's fingers gain speed, slipping in and out to pry you open, to prep you. Bending and prodding that spot you keep jolting at. He finds it and abuses it as much as he can. Watching you unfold and get closer to your high. Just a bit more, he can tell you're already getting antsy. So horny it only takes a few strokes of his thin fingers to get you worked up close to your high.

“You feel so good baby” he whispers to just you. Just you. You mewl at the praise, pulling him back down for another heated kiss. More desperate and begging. You're softer than Yunho could ever imagine, wrapped around his fingers when he digs them into you, plying and squishing into your g spot. Your lip gets pulled up into yunhos when he sucks air into his lungs.

Yunhos got you so close, your leg pressed over his lean thigh that digs into the mattress under you. Watching the way his fingers disappear into you quickly. You're not hurting for a knot when he has his fingers buried to the hilt in you. If your mind wasn't foggy, you'd surely be savoring this. But you're still only thinking about needing something bigger, Yunho's knot. You gasp at the magma pooling in your stomach, looking to yunho. You're a jumble of words. Already messy from just his fingers.

Yunho catches this, his thumb hooking onto your clit and swirling. “Just one baby, then I'll give you what you want” he groans into his words, taking as much pleasure from this as you. His eyebrows pull taunt over his eyes, mouth lulled open from focus. “Come on omega, cum for me” he calls on, looking you in the eyes. Dark, cloudy, and full of lust.

The tension breaks, squeezing your thighs around yunho's hand. A silent whine, at the attack of your senses. One of the most weakening orgasms you've ever felt. Twitching at the thumb that Yunho keeps pacing you with. Overstimulating you the slightest. You couldn't get this kind of high from your own hands throughout your first heat. He presses soft gentle kisses to your face as you come down, slowing the movement of his hand. He sighs with you. Completely turned on.

The neediness for more is slowly returning, there's only so much one high can do for your faziness. You squirm when he begins pulling his fingers out, whining at the loss of feeling stuffed, underwear snapping back over your wet core. Yunho thinks it's not enough prep, but you can't wait any longer and he knows that. Before he pulls to sit up, he leans on his calves. Watching the way your slick trails down his hand, sticky and warm. He can't help himself, taking his fingers in between his lips, humming around the digits when he holds eye contact with you.

That's got you going again, whining for him, panting gently. “You taste amazing mega, so perfect” his eyes trace your features, his words making you melt into a puddle. He comes down to level with you, his knees once again slotting between yours, pushing up to bend you back over his thighs. He brings himself in this time, using his free hand to pull you onto his mouth. You moan at the taste of yourself, scrunching your face up into him.

Yunho's free hand pulls at your underwear, one frustrating tug halfway down your legs, fuck it. He pulls with a hard tug, snapping them off, he's not moving anymore to get them off. Tossing them to the side. The cold air makes you clench around nothing. Shifting closer to him. Yunho's tongue and mouth is like water in the desert. He draws you in with his palm against the scruff of your neck, you reach between you both. Needing to feel him.

Your fingertips skims the bulge of his jeans, he's big, big enough to stand out from the denim and leave an indent. So big, you're beginning to drool. He bucks away from your touch, moaning once under his breath as you pant against each other's lips. His hands reach to swat yours away, shushing your whimpers for the contact. “no touching, ‘M gonna take care of you omega, like I promised” he works on his belt, tossing it across the room. He decides his dark shirt is more important, pulling it straight up and over him.

Yunho's lean physique is beautiful. Almost shy under your eager eyes, he smiles down at you, shoving his shirt under the soaking spot on the bed, right under your bum he lifts so easily up. Your blankets are definitely gonna need cleaning. As soon as he's done helping ease the hurt, he'll get to fixing up your bed and making it comfortable. You let him do what he needs to, fiddling patiently, no touching.

No touching. Your feet curl in anticipation, wiggling at the command, the slow drip of your slick is beginning to pool down your center. Your thighs curl together at the feeling.“Yun- alpha” you whine, watching him undo his jean buttons and zip down his zipper. He looks up for a split second at your call, “i know, i hear you omega” he leans up to take your shirt off for you. Completely down to allow you to play pillow princess. He leaves a trail of gentle kisses down the center of your chest, memorizing your reaction and your breasts. Yunho is a fan, a big fan and he definitely will worship your tits when he gets the chance. He shoves his jeans down the rest of his knees. Despite being told no touching, you reach to help pull the rest of them off.

With some struggle on your part, huffing impatiently and tingling because of the ache fully coming back. Yunho kicks his tight jeans across your room, they land somewhere with a dull thud. His hands pull at your hips and turn you over to your side. You don't ask questions, letting him do what he wants with you. “You ready?” He asks looking up from your leaking hole, and well- you're so eager you think you've been begging this entire time. “Yes, alpha, m ready” You plead desperately. “you're doing great mega, so patient for me” the prod of yunho's hand as he spreads open your cheeks makes you gasp.

“Look, you're dripping all over” He chuckles, a first genuine and teasing chuckle, like he can't believe he's able to get you this wet. His wide and big hand keeps you spread open, holding your cheek up. As his other hand pulls back to grip his cock. He passes it between your leaking folds and glazes just over your clit. You buck, your head falling back. “Please please’ please put it in alpha-” you cry, wiggling and trying to push your hips towards him. Yunho shushes you quietly, his hand spread over your stomach to stop you. “Be good ‘mega, you'll wake the neighborhood” he hushes you with a tipped groan as you slick over him, he uses his free fingers to spread it over him as much as he can patiently. Prodding the tip into you.

Groans of curse words slip off Yunho's tongue. Only an inch in. He's not even fully in you, yet he can already feel your weeping hole squeezing him in a death grip, attempting to adjust to his size even though he's only pushed the smallest bit of him inside you. Yunho didn't think he'd fit at all. He pushes your leg closest to his chest farther up, spreading you open wider for a better angle. Your pants and moans, and sticky skin makes Yunho painfully impatient. Inch by inch, he pushes in slowly in case the stretch is too much for you. Holding your thigh in his large palm so you can't jolt away. Breathy groans he lets out are much quieter than yours. Yunho slides himself the rest of the way in with a single thrust of his hips. His eyes fluttered at the clench. Almost painfully tight around him, it's more than he could ever imagine, the daydreams are nothing compared to the real thing that's your needy cunt. He ruts up once by accident, eagerly needing to feel your squishy walls wrapped around him all along his length. He praises you for taking it, panting into his words. “mega, you’re so perfect- Auh– fuck- you fit me in so well. so good for me.” he pulls your thigh against his chest, sandwiching closer to you, he's so vulgar, yunho hardly ever curses around you, but the way you have him has him letting loose. his hand trails a sweaty pattern against your thigh as he rubs it up and down soothingly.

Your greedy gasp and shuddered body being so full fills you with delight, his tip presses the deepest part of your silky walls that has you seeing stars. You're vocal but so silently about it, the stretch of yunho's cock should be impossible, you know alpha cocks are huge- but this is not what you imagined, yunho is completely different. Your gasps of pleas whisper towards Yunho in your dark bedroom. He can still somehow make out your face from the city lights shining through your curtains. Full of pleasure, tortured pleasure, he loves the faces you make, so pretty and so tortured as he helps you adjust to his length. You pull his arm as close as you can get it, tiny hand wrapping across his wrist, wanting him closer. He bends down over you, squishing you into the mattress with his much larger body, the angle makes your clit jump from the squeeze of the push of pressing against each other. He captures your lips in a cut off moan, trailing sloppy kisses down your jaw. He rocks his hips once, then twice to check if you’re good enough to go, groaning at the tantalizing dig. Yunho might have almost came from just being inside you, you're so perfect, he's starting to think you've ruined him for anyone else. You keenly twitch, mewling into his ear. His tip is already hitting your cervix, how big is he? His hand finds purchase next to your head. Bending the mattress.

Yunho's eyes are like obsidian, boring into your own, his silver-gray hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, soft swipes of his tongue poking out to wet his lip. His fingers searching for your free and loose hands to wrap your hand in his own. The first snap of Yunho's digging hips has you blinking back overwhelmed tears. He begins to set a pace, fluttering his eyes at the feeling encompassed by you. Given by you. Jaw falling slack as he pants out. You whine his name, melding perfectly against his big form. Yunho pushes in more than he pulls out, snapping his hips towards your own in steady deep movement.

“More, more- please, yun-” you beg so nicely yunho has a hard time not fulfilling your request. His smooth lips press into your forehead, his hips smacking into your own in big thrusts when he speeds up. He pulls your leg over his shoulder, the bend is imaginable. You're not that flexible, but yunho will make you. His fingers unlatch from your interlaced hands, tracing down your body- his pointer and middle finger swirl around your clit, you twitch and writhe at the sensation, pelvis pulling back at the added pressure. Gasping and moaning out so much so your head begins to dig into the space between your pillows. Hair astray. Yunho wants to memorize this to heart, your sweaty face full of pleasure, jaw slack. Pretty moans- when he's away by himself he wants this to be what he thinks back to. And how you called to him in the night to make you feel this good, to do you this good. He bites on his bottom lip, his darker eyes boring into the joint section between the two of you. The suction has him biting back the need to pop right there.

Yunho is a diligent lover, he craves touch and affection during sex and he's definitely using this as his opportunity to get it from you, not that you mind at all, you preen at any affection the alpha will show you. His other hand, not holding your own, leans heavily into the pillow next to you, flexing his biceps and muscles that appeared from years of hard work. Your free hand grabs on, scratching and anchoring yourself to him. “how're you feeling ‘mega? I- fuck- i told you I'd take care of you- so good for me, so- shit- warm” He asks between heavy pants, his hips stuttering against you, pushing you harder and harder into the mattress. More and more like you want. Even when filling you completely to the brim with his big dick he's still only asking about you. You're cockdrunk, almost so close to the verge, even though Yunho isn't rough and completely pouding you, his cock is enough to satiate that neediness for something to break you. A line is forming on your brows, your stomach beginning to knot from the way he pounds and works his fingers over your bundle of nerves.

Yunho's pace is heavy, digging into your core and pushing your hip into your stomach, the pressure building up and rubbing at the perfect angle that has you arching into him. “alpha, Yun, ah- good, feel soso good, don't stop- please-'' You're begging for who knows what, yunho definitely knows he isn't gonna stop. The slap of sticky skin collects in your dim bedroom, the smell of yours and yunho's scents mixing. Your sweet dew and vanilla under the woody scent yunho always has, collides. The coil in your stomach is tightening and so deliciously close to breaking. Yunho can feel it, the clench of your walls around his cock has him burying to the hilt with every thrust and push “you want me inside baby? Need my knot?” he asks between heavy pants and grunts, you nod sloppily, spewing words. His knot begins to grow at the base of his cock. And maybe he even imagines that he didn't take that BC earlier. That his cum will take, and his knot will drive you crazy enough to ask him to mate you for life and give you so much more.

“yes, inside please, I'm close, mclose so close ahh- yun-'' your mouth falls slack, pulses of white flash through your brain at the stimulus, yunho tips over the edge with you as your cunt flutters around him. His knot fully ties itself into your womb, hot spurts of cum, leaking from his tip as your name falls out. Yunho, as if on instinct, fang sharp-teeth pop open. He bites on your shoulder, knowing he can't mark you, can't mate you as his- yet, just not yet. When you reciprocate with a bite so close to his primary glands, his hips jut up into you, pushing his cock even deeper if possible. You twitch and shake as your orgasm begins to wash away, twitching some more at the overstimulation of yunho's length pulsing the last few spurts into you, warm and hot and so so much of it- so much so it is already creating a white base around the joint area between you two. His knot doesn't stop growing until he's panting by your head, kissing your sweaty skin so softly. You lean into his touch, preening at the affection with closed eyes. Your pants are heavier compared to his, somehow yunho isn't breathing as hard as you.

He slides down next to you, the tug of his knot still connected. He cups you close, stomach to back. Yunho definitely prefers spending his night like this instead, helping you through your heat and first couple of weakening orgasms. He knows some if not a good amount about omega gender, thanks to you- he did the research. He's glad he did, he knows you'll be spent- but if he asked, you'd be willing to go for more rounds. And he'd be happy to do so to satiate your needs. But you are still in the beginning of the haze, you can only take so much for your first heat with someone else and not completely pass out.

Moments of breathing in air and time in the earliest of morning. Yunho is your first, not overall- but heat wise. He's got to take pride in that. And he does, your duvet is buried under you and Yunho's dark shirt has cum splotches so he can't throw any of it onto you to cover you both comfortably. Your foggy brain must be subsiding by now and for some reason yunho feels shy being so naked even though he drilled you into your mattress and left you dazed after two orgasms. Your head pushes back against his shoulder, looking up at him. He catches your eyes, the smallest of smiles at your fucked out face. “Hi baby” he whispers in the dark, rubbing his free hand against your chin. Your eyes blink up tiredly from his warm touch.

“Hi yun” you smile, looking at the way Yunho's silver hair falls over his forehead in waves, his other arm and hand propping his head up. His eyes fall over your lips, smiling down, he leans into you to capture your swollen lips with his own pink ones. The post haze of orgasms washes away. But the heaviness of Yunho's knot pulses once more. You twitch, pulling away from his lips. The knot is tied so tightly to you, it makes you feel as though you're still stuffed. And you are. Yunho's cum is buried in you so deeply thanks to his knot and his cock that it makes your heart skip with appreciation. You never thought going commando would be so good, never thought a knot so deeply in you would make you feel even better. Is this what you were missing out as a beta? Yunho's hand finds its way over your stomach, pushing down on the bulge ever so slightly that has you whining and digging your hips back into him. “You did so well, took me so well” he whispers, pecking your neck with a singular kiss. The ache subsided, even if for a moment. Yet you clench at his words.

You know what happened, you remember everything that happened. Other than yunho smelling like he was at a bar and grill before you pounced. Did you steal him away from something? You turn your head to look at him. Smoothing your finger over his overgrown sideburn. His eyes scan your face, observing your nakedness in the dark. “Where were you?” You ask, whispering to him. He inhales softly, the fan of his breath cooling the sweat from your face. “I was getting some food and drinks with friends” he answers earnestly, rubbing soft circles into your hip. He still doesn't pull out of you, his knot so close to dissipating. Chest bumping against your back as he breaths.

“I'm supposed to drive them home” he chuckles airily, knowing the way you're gonna react before he even says it. “it's okay though, there was another designated driver” he reassures your worries. Taking them off your shoulders. You turn your head back into the pillow, reaching down to lock your hands in his. It's intimate and risky, but yunho doesn't pull away and you're thankful. “Your friends are going to hate me” you pout. He leans up. Left hand falling over the otherside of you. “No they don't- they won't either” he skims a soft kiss over the bite mark he left. Red and deep.

Good thing you don't have any more photos to take any time soon. A week should heal that up if he keeps his teeth to himself the entire time. Your pout becomes a shy smile because of his affection. The prettiest of smiles yunho adores. He peppers kisses down your arm and shoulder, basking in the way goosebumps raise to the surface of your skin. It feels like a honeymoon phase, yunho has always worn condoms, but never has he let his knot dig into someone before, you get his first time without a condom- and his knot. He feels so warm and he knows it's because he loves you and he has his connection to you still inside. It's triggering some primal urge in him to be lovesick. You hum through your smile quietly. Soundlessly falling back into silence. Your fingers prying and bumping against yunhos when you breathe, caressing the veins and length of his digits compared to yours. His right arm is under you but he doesn't care. He wants to be crushed by you, even if you aren't at all heavy. Your locked fingers pulled over your stomach as he anchored them there, fingertips feeling so very comfortable pressed against you.

Yunho begins to pull out, ever so gently. He pats your hip beforehand as a warning. You scrunch up at the loss as soon as he's fully out, missing the way you felt full. You whine for Yunho when he begins to tug away from you, unlatching your fingers. “I got to get you cleaned up” he reassures, kissing against your jaw facing away from him. His lean body is pulled away from you, suddenly making his spot behind you cold. He shoves his briefs on. But before he goes he opens the closest window to air out the scent of sex in the air. Afterwards, he walks to your adjacent door. Sadly, you have to share a bathroom. He peeps his head out your door, looking into the hallway. Back and forth.

He turns back to look at you, smiling gently. “I'll be right back okay?” He whispers loud enough for you to hear. You curl up into yourself, holding a hand between your thighs to prevent any leakage. It doesn't work well. “Hurry, please” you whisper back. Yunho bites his lip, looking you up and down once more. He pulls away, closing your door behind him ever so quietly.

In the silence of your bedroom, your head falls back against your pillow, the pulsing ache no longer activating in your stomach. Maybe a knot does satiate the need for more after a while. You're surely tired though because you slept terribly and are still needy for affection. Yunho's words wrap around your mind, you try to plug your fingers against the cum beginning to drip out. It's as helpful as it seems. You wait a minute longer, then two, then three. Beginning to twist your ankle in anticipation.

You sit up before Yunho comes back in, clothing thrown over his right arm and a single blanket, a deep gray towel and a water bottle in his left. Black sweatpants hang off his hips, this time his loose shirt is white. “up” he beckons you up to the headboard of your bed. When you scoot up to readjust he pulls off your duvet, leaving your almost spotless sheet under you. Sitting down on the edge of your feet, your hand withholds the liquid in you as you lay on your back, head propped up against the pillows yunho laid out for you, sitting up slightly.

He hands you a water bottle after pouring some of it onto the towel. Urging you to drink it, his free hand prys your wrist away from your sopping core. Suckling a harsh hum at the pour of yours and his cum leaking out. The towel scraping up against your cunt makes you sensitive, thighs tensing and hissing away. He acknowledges it, kissing the top of your propped knee and pulling you back. Gauging your reaction with every swipe of the towel to make you the least uncomfortable he can. It makes your heart swell. Hiding your smile behind a chug of water. He's gentle with his care, checking your thighs for any more residue.

When he's done he plants the towel and his soiled shirt in your laundry basket propped next to your door. As much as he hates taking his scent off of you. You will get sticky and uncomfortable with it plugged into you all night. He might come back for his nasty shirt later though. He wipes your dirty hand away, kissing your fingers softly as soon as he's done. Your heart skips.

“Better?” he asks as you hand your water to him, he places it on your dresser. You nod, still naked. He almost forgot. A light gray shirt yunho keeps around -that you know is pretty expensive- gets pulled over your head easily. It's big, just as big as Yunho, maybe even more. It smells like his cologne, and his scent of citrus and vanilla, heavy. The masculine smell of sandalwood is the most prominent. You breathe him in, missing the scent he produced during your intimate moment. Next he's slipping you into a matching gray pair of his briefs, they're a bit big, but it doesn't matter to you.

You're so grateful for the attention Yunho is giving you. He doesn't need to be gentle, but he is anyway, and it's making you feel all the more soft and so head over heels. You pull Yunho close as soon as he's done. Head slotting into his pale neck. You trail kisses against your own mark you left on him, kissing more heavily on the bite you left, nuzzling your nose into him. He sighs dreamily, a long arm wrapping against your back. His knee falls to kneel onto the bed, laying half over you gently. Consuming you with his scent and body. He prefers it like this, when you're completely full of him and smell like him. Tiredly begging for his touch after he already gave you everything you wanted. You wiggle to get comfortable, locking your leg over his hip. Whilst his leg slots between your legs. He kisses the top of your head. Rubbing soothing pats against your back. As his other hand reaches for the blanket he brought in. White and thin with crochet patterns, definitely taken from the end of his bed.

Easily, he pulls it over the two of you. Comfortable and surrounded by yunho. Your head isn't sweating thanks to the breeze from the window. Any sweat you had cooled along with the water he gave you. So sweetly, taking care of you and even cuddling you. How are you so lucky right now? You couldn't ask for a better second heat phase.

“Thank you” you mumble against Yunho's neck. You feel the shuffle of his gray hair press against the side of your head when he turns. “Don't thank me” he huffs into a grin. His palm coming up to caress against your shoulder. If it's unconscious, you don't know. But his hand lands directly over the bite he left. Your eyes slink, closing down thanks to the lullaby of Yunho's heart beat and soft breaths.

In the silence of the early morning, one of your many daydreams comes true, buried under yunho and everything that smells like him. Yunho, just prefers you, your soft and squishy skin against his. His fingers slip under the collar of his shirt.

“I love you” he whispers the quietest, just as your mind begins to drift. You whisper back, slurring. “love you more” you don't care if it's early, or if he's just saying it after such an intense night together. You don't even know if he's just saying it in an affectionate way. But you mean it when you say it, I love you more, cause you do. Yunho has you whipped around his finger after knowing he can take care of you even after you already had the biggest crush on him before. The best is him afterwards, sticking by your side.

It's more than a year back, your dream blending into a memory. You're presenting at an award show, gladly introducing artists. Preppy voice loud and simple to suck the crowd in. In the prettiest of pastel outfits some snooty stylist gave you to wear. You know behind the screen out there your boys are cheering you on. And it keeps you grounded. Despite being on TV the most nerve-racking thing is your ex. Who's also a host, they don't know though. You guys kept it wrapped under the media for about a month before he was caught cheating on you with another popular idol. Not cheating to the media though, they assumed those two were together, but you were devastated for a week nonetheless.

You wonder why you even liked him in the first place. He's cute, funny, complicated, and talented. An omega, which you didn't care about. But his attitude was that of a spoiled brat who always gets what he wants. Maybe you thought that was really cute, when he would beg you for pda when he knew you were private, and when you would say yes, he'd accuse you of trying to expose the secret. It reminds you of someone else now, a less bratty and less annoying guy, who doesn't give a fuck about pda and will show you off at any chance because he likes to tease you. Somehow, that relationship never raised suspicion.

Your ex is a fairly popular guy, more so than you. Your group was still rising to some. And his group was popular from the get-go. Thanks to one of the big ents. Your trainee days got you a spot here, he recommended you, leading to you two seeing each other often, then soon dating. You got the opportunity before he cheated. You never understood why, but you weren't gonna give up just because he was going to show up. No way. You stand tall and proud, gleaming for the screen as does your ex who continues to scoot closer every camera shot.

You try your best to ignore him when you're on ad break, getting your makeup reapplied. “Can we talk?” He asks over the bustling makeup artists, you're thankful they're shielding you from him. “No,” you huff. “I'm getting my touch up done, please leave” you say as politely as you can. Honorifics and all. He grimaces. Stepping closer.

“I'm sorry-” you sigh at what's to come. Another sob story, another lie. You're not some silly girl, you're mature, you're an adult. You know the signs. And you know cheaters can change, yes, but something tells you he won't. You taught yourself to follow your gut feelings. And now, you still will. “No, you're not sorry, you're guilty you got caught. You’re sorry because you got caught, you're not sorry to me at all.” even though it was just a month, you took your time doing everything for him in it. First relationships always move fast. You risked that with him, leading him through his first time with you as a couple.

You took the reins and he abused that. His eyes well with crocodile tears. Before you can speak once again, his sorrowful eyes land on a figure looming behind you. Scowling, his tears seem to dry up quickly as if they were just for show. “Great” he laughs angrily. You're so very confused but when a large hand lands on your shoulder, you know exactly who it is. The whiff of vanilla and sandalwood following.

“Yun” you greet, a soft realization that he came to see you, your soft, smiley, extremely taller member came to watch you. And he knows exactly who the fool in front of you is, Yunho's black hair falls perfectly over his forehead as he scales your ex up and down, the tiniest of a forced grin on his taunt lips. “Hey, I didn't know you were working as a host” yunho is older than your ex, and he doesn't greet him as a friend. Nor does he acknowledge the tears. Honorifics that sound like venom falling from the pretty tip of his tongue.

Your ex doesn't bother to bow his head either, sticking up to your older group member. “I got her the job” he scoffs slightly into his words, shifting on his feet. Looking anywhere else except for the tall man's eyes. You feel completely squashed and kind of embarrassed from this interaction. Your ex is still trying to keep up a brave face under his extremely pink eyebrows. “Really?” Yunho looks back down at you, the smallest of smiles, but genuine. He squeezes your shoulder softly, glancing between your eyes mischievously. “Then I'm sure she'll be the best, she might end up being better than you” he chuckles, meanly, yunho is hardly ever mean. You can't help the snort of laughter falling out of your nose. You don't regret it. Your exes eyes twitch, not a single word. He storms off and bumps shoulders with yunho. Like a child, he stomps away.

You turn to Yunho, and notice you're both grinning. Soon a fit of laughter erupts from your throat and his. It's short lived. His hand falls off your shoulder, you miss the weight of his heavy hand. He takes a seat against the vanity, the light from the bulbs showcases his figure. Lean and tall, taking up the space with his big figure. You have to advert your eyes from staring. When he turns his head back to you. Even though you're done with your touch up, you can't seem to stand up out of your chair and move on.

Yunho's foot nudges your ankle, calling for your attention. You look up, crossing your arms subconsciously and force out a smile the best you can. The most naturally you can. “Are you okay?” His eyebrows crease in worry, his head lowering so you know he isn't demanding you to answer him. You clear your throat, shifting in the luxurious white chair. “Yeah, he sucks..” you laugh. Trying not to let it affect you. Trying. Is the key word. Your teeth wiggle your bottom lip, falling back into thought. Yunho ever so keenly notices your behavior. Squatting down in front of you. You jolt, leaning up to see what he's doing, before you can ask, he's tugging your shoe into his lap. Tying the laces delicately between his thin and long fingers. He never looks up, even as you try to tug away. “I'm not a kid” you huff, shaking your head at the thought of Yunho Bending his own extremely expensive pants to tie your shoe. You can hear the smile in his voice as he talks, “then how come you always forget?” When he finishes, he looks up. His hand unknowingly caresses the back of your ankle and calf.

You take a breath, fiddling your fingers together. “Forget what?” he laughs. Placing your foot back on the ground to check your other shoe. “Forget to tie your shoes” you gawk, “no I don't-” you attempt to pull your foot back, his fingers latch around your ankle. Smiling back up at you. Even though he's real, he looks unreal smiling up at you like some prince sliding your glass slipper on. “Yes, you do, remember during practice you used to always wear velcro shoes? Bet you didn't think I'd remember that-” “you remember what shoes I wore years ago?-” “you never wore laces, and when you did. I had to break formation to catch you when you'd trip over them." His breathy laugh has you smiling shamelessly.

“Honestly, it's like you were hoping I'd catch you” his finger comes up to push the hair out of his eyes, straightening out his bangs. He looks up at you from under them. Teeth on display thanks to his pretty smile. You fumble to say something. “no, I was just bad at taking care of my shoes,” you laugh, scratching at your eyebrow. Nice save. Knowing in reality he wasn't far off, or that most of the time you wore the same pair of velcro shoes for every practice. And when you began noticing they were gross compared to your members whose shoes seemed much better than yours, you'd exchange them for one of your other laced sneakers. Ashamed of the peeling fabric and the staining, and he was right, you were always bad at tying them properly.

“At Least you were there to catch me” you smile, watching him stand up to his full height. Shyly smiling back, as he looked away. “I'd always catch you,” his voice echos. Your dream-like fog begins to dissipate as the memory ends.

You wake up with your thighs stinging as if you just worked out your quads for an hour. Feeling like jelly and still tired. Atleast you're not still needy for a knot, whatever yunho did last night really dimmed down your heat. Or was it still too early for you to be in full bloom? The morning sun beams rays along your face and bed, waking you from your sleep. The only warmth you feel comes from your spot alone, and when you begin shifting around in your bed tangling out of the white blanket. You notice the bigger body you fell asleep next to isn't there anymore. Whining into the air sadly at the feeling of loss in your chest. Did yunho leave?

No, the running of water across the hall from your door catches your attention. The door which is now open is cracked almost all the way, you wait and watch. Jongho passes, too busy talking to the person behind him to notice you're awake. Mingi, equally distracted mumbles poutily to jongho whos harshly whispering in front of him. You’re too tired to move, and way too sluggish for things to register, just hoping to see yunho pass through the door. Quiet whispers flow down the hallway and meet your ears, cluttering of kitchen appliances and the beeping of the rice cooker makes you remember how easy it is to get lost in the morning buzz of the apartment.

Yunhos hand slots in from the corner of your eyes, he's still turned over his shoulder, talking to someone, wearing the same clothing from last night. Mumbles of whispers and discussion hanging in the air until his eyes flash back to you. Out of the spot he left you in and scratching at your shoulder. The indent of yunho's bite beginning to scab over. As if you hold the universe, yunhos shocked face makes you look up at him full of questions. His neck bobs as he swallows harshly, turning his head back to the figure just out of sight.

When he's done speaking he walks back into your room, and as soon as he reaches the end of the bed his hand greedily reaches over to smooth his palm against your waist, pulling you into his side with a gentle tug. You groan at the ache in your hips from the shift. Yunho apologetically smiles. Bare face on display from the sun. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he leans his palm against the pillow, half of his body leaning over you whilst he drapes his leg off the bed.

You watch his bare face and plump lips pull into a nervous grin. Needy, so needy. He's so pretty, so bare and so attentive. His hand fiddles with the edge of the shirt he gave you. The caress of his fingers there is so docile, like it's meant to be there. “I'm good” you sigh out, reaching for his waist to hold him. “sore,” you grin shyly. He huffs a laugh, “I know.. d'you need anything?” he lips fall open at the end of his question. You really can't help it, not when yunho is drawing you in and making you feel so special. “A kiss?” You speak clearly, just to him, looking up hopefully through parted lashes. Yunhos grin spreads, red tint rising to his ears. He doesn't have to say anything, his eyes fall over your mouth, folding himself down to plant the smooth taste of his minty toothpaste on your own lips.

He pulls back because of his wide smile, too giddy to keep going. You laugh “stop smiling, I'm trying to kiss you” your hand catches his cheek, awkwardly leaning up into him. “No, you” he snickers, his larger palm reaching your own cheek. He pet's his thumb across your lip, pecking you once again. Then once more. He pulls back before you go in for a third. Teasing you with a cheeky grin. “you have to eat something” he nods, but before he can get up and leave. You're reaching for the pocket of his sweats. Whining, pouting. “Don't go” you huff, laying your head back down on the pillows.

“I'll get hongjoong, okay?” He leans down to pick up your hand, kissing your knuckles. The mention of your captain, your other member- who you still don't know is okay with you calling him your boyfriend- makes you nod. You miss joong, even though he hasn't gone anywhere. He was sleeping. You crave the attention as soon as it's gone with yunho.

Slumped against the bed, you toss to lay on your back, pushing your messy-sweaty hair away. For a few seconds your eyes lazily pull back down, thighs squishing together. The click of your door shutting and the bed dipping has you jolting, coming back from your thoughts. Hongjoong is too occupied shuffling under the blanket to notice your face. And when he does, he's smiling ear to ear at the proximity of you. His hair is a mess, wearing a crochet purple crew neck that's too baggy, a pair of comfy black sweats. Much more dressed and put together than you at the moment. If he smells yunho on you, he must not care. His fingers thread through the back of your hair. Pulling your face into his so he can place giddy kisses all around your cheeks, nose, jaw. Everywhere.

Your lips pull back into a smile, giggling at the way he tickles your face with preppy kisses. His nose scrunches, loving the sound of your laugh. He lays a final deep kiss on your lips, one full of yearning and attention, and everything hongjoong is and more, missing the way you kiss up into him. “I missed you” you simply say when he pulls back. His eyes shift between yours. “I missed you more pretty girl” he sighs, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. Messy brown hair clouding around his eyes. He lays his head down comfortably on the pillow next to you, threading his fingers around your back to pull you closer.

“Did yunho take care of you?” his hand falls over your hip, rubbing patterns with the tip of his pointer finger. You nod, biting your lip. Memories of last night, flood you. Hongjoong hums softly, his soft dark eyes tracing your features. “he's a good alpha, ‘m proud of him.. You’re not too sore?” he smiles, a certain bite to his tone. You do as well, giddiness building in your stomach. “No, not too much” you nod, pushing your neck towards him, presenting your most sensitive spot. Docile, so docile. Hongjoongs lips fall there, kissing soothingly. “You did good ‘mega. Took yunho so well didn't you.” He whispers straight to you. Heavy lipped and nipping by your scent gland. You whimper and just like that you're a puddle in hongjoongs hands. He sits up to slot his hips between your own, pressing his weight down onto you.

“Be quiet for me okay? Can't have you telling everyone what we're doing”

The bulge of hongjoong in his loose pants has you gasping when it grinds over your clothed cunt. He pulls away from your neck after attacking it with suckling kisses and nips that'll turn into hickey's. Admiring his work. He grins. “So pretty” he sits back on his knees, the blanket leaves with him, leaving you unprotected. Your greedy hands reach up to grab him, stop him from staring down at you with his prying eyes, and when he captures them, interlocking your hands between his own to hold close to his chest, he leans forward and you take his plump lips between your own, biting on his bottom lip in appreciation from the plump of it. He sighs into your mouth, his hands parting from yours and digging down into your hips, lifting the hem of yunhos large shirt to trail his hot hands under. They smooth up, and stop just short of your ribcage.

You know the question, consent is the upmost important thing to hongjoong. “Please touch me joong” you tell him before he has the chance. Holding his face close to yours, he smiles, that shit eating grin he always has, the teasing one he uses to perform. Already, you can feel the damp spot in yunhos once clean briefs getting wet. “You want me to touch you where? Huh? Tell me where pretty girl.” he hums, and goodness is it exhausting being teased. You don't even want to say it, too impatient for words. You grab hongjoongs hands off your hip and rib cage, dragging them up and over your breasts just under your shirt. It pools at your collarbone, just under your chin.

“There, touch me there joong” you plead, eyebrows creasing. Hongjoongs hot palms knead into your tits, causing your nipples to pebble up from the friction. Oh so sensitive. Everything must be heightened by now, you want to be touched everywhere. Hongjoongs eyes heavily watch your expressions as he takes your left bud between his fingers and tugs. You yelp as quietly as you can manage, turning your head away. The snicker from joong makes you shy, like he's laughing at you. His head falls down, blowing over the sensitive bud between his right hand, when it pebbles, he takes it into his wet cavern, humming against it and suckling harshly. Not expecting it, your hips jut up from between his knees. Whimpering.

Hongjoong presses himself closer to you, slobbering over your tit and squeezing it with his large palm. He pulls off with a pop and plants kisses along the space around it, looking up at your slacked expression has his shorts tightening even more so. This is what he wanted when he got up that morning, when he figured out the smell of sex was coming from your room and the way yunho cuddled into you as you both napped. The brown haired male takes your other pretty bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue. Your heat hadn't quite hit, it isn't until tomorrow, it's too early to tell though. And the smell of your soiled clothes in the laundry basket tells joong something definitely happened that involved your heat. You scent is addicting, it already had joong jolting into his fist in the bathroom. Too eager waiting for you to get up. He tugs with his teeth, suckling and swishing the pliable fat between his soft hands, your choked sob goes straight to his cock.

He can't take your noises anymore, or the way your hips won't stop wiggling under him. Grazing against his sensitive area unknowingly. He trails wet kisses down your stomach, when he reaches the top of the underwear that hides you away. He looks up for permission. Hongjoongs pretty eyes never fail to make you lose your breath, heaving. Chest glistening, you nod sloppily. An appreciated kiss is laid on your hip bone before he's tugging off yunho's briefs and tossing them to the side of his leg.

Cold air meets you as hongjoong throws your legs over his shoulders. His eyes scan your glistening core, kissing down your knee and thighs, as soon as he gets as close to where you want him. He bites into you, hard. You twitch, and whine, biting down on your tongue. The pulse of the spot has you aching as he kisses the hurt away. The next second his nose is pressing into you as his firm tongue falls out to lap up all the mess between your folds. A shuddered sigh knocks out of you. As he trails up, he takes your clit between his pink lips, sucking hard. Your thighs clench around his head. Bucking away at the overwhelming feeling. You can feel the grin forming on his face.

His palm pushes against your hip to get you to stop moving, tongue jutting out once more to lap your taste up. So sweet, and so dewy on the tip of his tongue. He swirls it around your nerves, groaning softly at the taste. You preen. “You're so wet” he mumbles, bumping his nose against you as he trails down to your hole, he blows a huff of air on it as he takes. Making you clench, “I could just put two in and it wouldn't hurt you're so wet, yeah? Think you could take two for me?” He looks up through his dark eyelashes, Bending your knees over his shoulders. Joongs thumb prods your bundle, catching you off guard from the tug of it as it digs into your clit in lazy swirls. You choke out a soft moan. “Words” he reminds you, nipping the skin by your knee, withholding your eyes in his hazy gaze.

“Yes, I can take two joong, I can do it-” you beg, and hongjoong has a hard time holding back his predatory smile. “Pretty girl, already falling apart, I haven't even done anything” his snicker has you feeling bullied. His head dips back in, his wet muscle coming out once again to replace his thumb, licking you. You're relishing in the slow build up, holding his hand over your hip. Panting out. Joongs finger prods at the tight ring of your entrance, twisting between the flutter of your walls and completely digging into you. You gasp at the first, pushing back against the second prod of hongjoongs ring finger. He hums over your clit, molding his tongue to the bud, his lips wrapping around it.

Hongjoong's getting pussy drunk. He's getting greedy feasting on you, his hips rut into the sheets, sparing him the feeling of the pent up need to release for only a couple of split seconds before he's digging it back down as soon as he hears how sloppy he's making you. At this rate, hongjoong might just cum in his pants, and he wouldn't care. Your pleasure is his pleasure. His fingers dip up, pushing and prodding for the spot that'll have you seeing stars. Memorizing how you react to every twist and pull, he sucks down on you, and huffs for air that has you tensing around his slender fingers. He wants to take his time to savor this. But he knows Yunho will be back with your food as soon as it's ready, Seonghwa said it'll be done in 15 minutes or less.

His fingers piston into the spot that catches your throat, his lips tugging around your bud, suckling and tugging like he's trying to milk you for your orgasm. It's almost there, coiling in your stomach and burning closer and closer. Your eyes are screwed shut, no longer able to stop the blurriness from overwhelmed tears crowding your lash line. Your hips twitch under his palm, digging you down into the mattress so you can't escape his tongue and fingers. As joong comes off you with a squelched pop, he blows air back on the bud. You buck, his thumb comes up to take his place, tight circles digging into your swollen clit.

“There you go,” Hongjoong says as a particularly hard clench squeezes his digits. “Must have been so horny to take yunho last night huh? you're still so tight on my fingers” he curls them as he mentions them. The sloppy noises of his extended fingers hitting around your hole has you hazing in and out of breath. “How'd you get him to fit?” He asks, humming into his words as if this was some normal conversation. You can't even respond. Twitching and pushing up into his particularly hard thrusting fingers that slap and echo in your ears. “Poor girl, needed a cock that bad you let him in without enough prep” he tsks.

Your orgasm builds and is so tantalizingly close, your head lulls to the side, pants and whines. Your hand digs into hongjoongs wrist, holding him as if that'll keep him there. His hand spreads so far across your hips that the slight push down has you feeling his fingers in your stomach. “Yunho told me how desperate you are, how good you were for him, now i know he was right” hongjoongs teasing tone has tears streaming down your face. You know he feels your heartbeat speed up and you clench, but when you meet that crossroad he stops stroking his thumb and has you falling back in a loop. “Not yet” he says this time, sighing into his words.

He pumps them in some more, the pool of your slick trailing down between his fingers and your thighs. There's so much, so much the sheet is wet. Your toes curl at the build up. This time, he continues. “told me you look so pretty when you cum” he whispers heavily, mouth falling open, watching his fingers disappear and reappear from your sopping hole.

“please, joong, please, please” you beg for your release. He pretends to think about it. Building you up again. So, so damn close. A slight moan comes from his throat, pleased at the gumminess of your walls. “Come on pretty girl, let me see” he gives you the go ahead, his teeth digging into his plump lip, his eyes finding your face and watching. That's all it takes for you to shake as you cum, digging down into the sheets with a strangled gasp. Your mouth falling open, legs twitching. Even your toes curl at how hard it hits you. His fingers never stop bullying you until you're shaking and trying to close your thighs. He pulls the out, then takes him in his mouth to clean them off. His eyes fluttered close, as if its some ice cream dripping from a cone that's cold on the taste buds. You're huffing pants loudly. So much so you have to close your mouth and try to breath out of your nose.

Giving you a second, Hongjoong lays a kiss on the top of your knee, then the other. He reaches next to him, and you realize he's grabbing yunhos briefs again. Pulling them back up your legs. The fabric sticks to your center. You pout at the feeling behind close lids. He pulls the blanket back over him like a cape, kissing gently up your stomach before pulling your shirt back over you. Helping you seem more put together. He smiles as if he didn't do anything at all when he pulls you to lay over him. Swiping the drying tears off the side of your eyes. He kisses each side of your cheek where they fell. Lovingly, gently. Much more softer than he was seconds ago. He peppers a kiss down your nose and lands it on your lips. “You didn't get to finish” you pout, he lays his head down next to yours. His lips falling into a small grin. “That one was for you” he takes your fingers between his, kissing each of the tips of them and down your wrist.

“But-” you pout, his eyes pull up into a smile. “so greedy” he laughs, kissing your nose again. Fingers fiddling with yours over his chest. “There's no time for it pretty girl, someone might walk in on us” he hums, grinning so cheerily. Your head falls over his shoulder, embarrassed. His lips lay over your forehead. His right hand coming up to rub against your back. Soothing yunhos creasing shirt down. Although that fuzziness isn't returning. You think you've got atleast another hour thanks to hongjoongs prying hands.

As if on cue. Yunhos head pops in through the door, when he pushes it open, seonghwas right behind him holding a tray. They must be the only ones to know you're awake, because all the sudden, the thumping of the guys rushing into the hallway make you realize you're awake and coherent and they're most likely coming to check up on you.

Hongjoong laughs at the sound as if this is some goofy cartoon, sitting up along with you. Seonghwa dips the platter on the bed, sliding it to you when he takes a criss crossed seat on the end. Smiling gently. “Hi hwa” you greet, wrapping your arms around him over the tray, you can't help it. You plant a kiss on his cheek. He beams, patting your hip and looking back down at the tray to make sure it didn't spill. Pancakes and an array of sausages, fruits. A meal fit for a goddess. Compared to easy snacks and reheatable meals you had for your first heat- this is heaven on your bed. You feel so very greatful. “thank you” you reach for his hand. Squeezing it gently. He smiles, shyly looking down.

You finish the last of your food. Syrup still sticking to the corner of your lips. Joong had gotten up to stop the fighting of yunho and the guys, taking your tray with you. Yunho had stepped back to fight off the rest of the crew, like he was your protective shield whilst you ate, you can still hear wooyoung, mingi, and san whining. Seonghwa took his seat in joongs spot, too far away from you. You have to scoot up over to him for him to get what you're doing. He meets you halfway. Looking you over.

“You don't smell like sex” you cough. Sputtering, covering your mouth with your hand so you're not accidentally spitting on him. Seonghwa laughs, plump lips pulled into a smile over his cheeks. “Hongjoong said give him a few minutes so..” he nodded in thought, pinching his fingers together over his lap. “for some reason i don't think hongjoong can finish that fast,” is your face on fire? You're so very warm with seonghwas casual words.

“I finish that fast” you spurt out. God, are you digging yourself a hole to die in? Seonghwa looks the least bit shocked, if not somewhat happy at your words that have you internally crying from embarrassment. “Then you're well taken care of.” he nods, taking your hand in his. “yeosang’s running a bath for you. Should be ready.” he intertwines your hands in his, fingers spreading over yours. Hwas other thumb reaches to swipe the syrup from the corner of your mouth, popping it into his after to suck off the residue. Oof- as if that's not equally as sexy as hwa is.

“Let's get you cleaned up angel”

A/n; I'm so sorry. (Nu-uh). this is posted as soon as I tag n all that jazz so I can sleep when it goes out ☺️ I spent all night writing this(I'm a whore) and I had to step away a few times to collect myself. Gifs are edits, I turn them into gifs/edit gifs (ily editors!) Comments push my motivation, thank you all,, muwah. P.s would yall be upset if seonghwa had an oppa kink(theres proof I'm p sure help)

Taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @yunholuvrsblog @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog @doggopepper @uhhheather @hyukssunflower @hhoneylix @tunaasan @satsuri3su @acescavern @edusweah @silentcry329 @silentreadersthings @ldysmfrst @idfkeddieishot @zdgx1 @lomons @rln-byg (thank you all! If the tag isn't working, or u changed ur user, please let me know ♥︎)

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Thick Part 6/8

Y/N, done messed up in this one 😭 big time

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Kenan and Reader share the same high school friend group. As graduation is near, Reader sets out to pass her drivers license test but ultimately struggles to. Thankfully Readers friends agree to help her with driving lessons and take turns doing so. It is during one of Rader's lessons that it becomes clear that Kenan likes her. A chock to Reader, who has a crush on someone else in their friend group.

Enjoy!

Being Kenan Yildiz girlfriend included three things:

1. Long drives home from school.

2. A lot of listening and talking about football.

3. Late night cuddles.

Out of all these three things, the late night cuddles you enjoyed the most. It never came down to anything sexual. It would just be you and Kenan in his bed, cuddling. You'd stay at his house whenever your parents were away. It somehow became an ongoing thing one day after Kenan dropped you off at your house, and the two of you came to realize that your parents had left the country without telling you. It wasn't the first time that they had been late to inform you about a trip abroad, but seeing how hurt you got by it made Kenan convince you to stay with him whenever your parents weren't at home. And frankly, you loved it.

Kenan actually lived alone in a seemingly big house for a nineteen year old. But then again, he had no problem paying for it with his salary as a football player.

"What are you thinking about?"

You lay in bed with Kenan's head in your lap. You were watching a movie on his computer when he tilted his head to meet your eyes.

"Us?" You smiled.

"Us?"

"Yeah, I think like us."

Kenan chuckled. "I like us too."

Although dating Kenan included a lot of benefits, like unlimited driving lessons, it also included a few perks.

"Oh my God Kenan I love you. Can I please take a picture with you?"

It all came down to the fact that Kenan was seemingly becoming more and more famous as a footballer. The more games he played for Juventus. Fans, mostly young girls, would come up to him in the streets, begging for an autograph or a picture with him. Kenan, the nice guy that he was, would always accept. Even that one time when a group of young fans caused a line in traffic by pulling their car up alongside yours. Mind you that this was during one of your driving lessons, meaning, you were more than nervous to have other cars honking their horns at you because a car full of teenagers were getting their school books sign by your boyfriend.

Another perk were the comments that you were getting online. Somehow, people found out who you were and who you were to Kenan. The comments you received online were mainly from complete strangers commenting negatively about your body and the fact that you were on the bigger size.

"Why would he date her?"

"Oh my God what does she eat in a day, she's so big."

"Ahahahha I see Yildiz like em extra large."

These were only a few of the nasty things that people were saying about you. However, over time, you learned to ignore it and them. Spending time with your friends helped.

"So what are we doing for Y/N's birthday this weekend?" Rebecca held an informal meeting during lunch at school.

"Party, of course!" Gio exclaimed. "How about a themed one, like 'A night in Hawaii.'"

"Oh Gio, that's not....."

Everyone held their laughter.

Gio shifted his head. "What?"

"That's not what Y/N wants." Said Rebecca. "If we're having a themed party, it should be something cool like "The red carpet."

This time, you and your friends actually burst out in laughter.

"No?" Rebecca cheeks blossmed. "Why don't you guys decide then, since your ideas are that much better than mine."

"How about we let Y/N decide?" Maria, the rational one, said. "It's her birthday, not ours."

"Fine. What do you want to do for your birthday Y/N?"

You failed to notice how everyone's attention was brought to you. In your defense, you were sitting in Kenan's lap, his hands around your waist and his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

"Ugh, you guys are unbelievable."

"Yeah, get a room you two."

You were brought back to reality, locking eyes with Luca, who sat before you. Unlike the others, he didn't seem bothered by you and Kenan being overly affectionate with each other. Instead, he seemed genuinely happy for you. Stronzo. (Asshole)

"How about we throw a party at my place?" Kenan suggested. "We could make it low-key by listing people who are invited."

Gio raised his hand. "I can get us the booze."

Rebecca sighed. "Let'em guess, your uncle knows someone?"

"My cousin actually."

The party happened on a Saturday, with Kenan's suggestion to have an entry list, keeping him busy all night. He and Gio seemed to fend for their lives at the door. Once the word got out that Kenan Yildiz was throwing a party, all of Turin seemed to have shown up.

"A great party, no?"

You had been wandering alone for most of the night. The majority of the people at the party had no idea that it was thrown in your honor. You were a bit startled when Luca approached you at one point during the night, carrying a wrapped gift in his hand.

"Luca, you shouldn't have."

He smiled. "I felt like getting you a gift was the least I can do." He smiled. It was also cute the way he had to talk over the loud music for you to hear him. "Party's aren't really my thing. Although I'm impressed how the others managed to pull this off."

"Well, none of them have gotten a chance to give me a gift yet." You said, eyeing the package in his hand.

"It's nothing major, but I think you'll like it." He handed it over for you to open it. You did so immediately to Luca's amusement.

"Childish Gambino!"

"It's his knew album. Armeni actually help me...."

It was in the heat of the moment. The sudden rush of blood to your violently beating heart that urged you to do what you did. Nevertheless, in all haste, Luca caught you as you leaped forward, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was everything you could've imagined, soft yet sweet, with Luca's hand pressing to the side of your face. Except he wasn't pressing. He was pushing. Pushing your face away for your lips to detach.

"Y/N...I"

"Oh, shit."

Regret. You could see it on his face as well as feel it inside of you. Although the kiss was everything you dreamed of, it was hard to admit that it hadn't happened with the right person.

"Y/N....I had no idea that you?...I thought you and Kenan..."

"We are." You nodded. "I'm so sorry Luca,  I don't know what came over me."

"I do."

Your heart ripped at the sound of his voice. Kenan had spotted you and Luca in the corner of his living room. He had crossed the room to get to you, a small jewelry box clenched in his hand. However, once he got to you, that jewelry box was dropped to the floor, dropped along with all the feelings Kenan had developed for you.

"Kenan it's not..."

"Save it." He hissed, his eyes darting at Luca as if he wanted to kill him on the spot.

"Hey, man, she kissed me." Luca said in defense.

"I know."

"I thought that the two of you were a solid thing now."

"So did I." Kenan turned to you with nothing but darkness and hurt in his eyes. "We're done."

"Kenan?" You squealed, tears already running down your cheeks, ruining your make up.

He shook his head, fighting the urge not to give into you. "We're done Y/N, alright! Just leave it at that."

You didn't want to. You refused to. However, it's just what Kenan did, turn his back on you, and leave. You watched him make his way through the crowd and out the door of his own home. All because of your mistake.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 10: Bear

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10

Derek and Peter Hale groaned as they waddled off the beach towards their car.

Just moments before, the two werewolves had been toned men researching some strange disappearances in the area. Locals would say that men would go and visit the infamous Bear Beach, only to be never heard from again.

Peter winced at the odd feeling of his beefy arms resting atop his lats. “I’m just saying, Almighty Alpha,” he sneered in Derek’s direction, “that maybe there’s a reason the place was called Bear Beach.”

Derek just grunted, not used to the way his rotund, hairy belly jiggled with every step he took. “I thought it was just a name…” he grumbled under his breath, a growl barely detectable.

Peter scoffed and gestured back towards the shore where loads of beefy hairy men lumbered around clumsily, as if they were learning how to walk. “That didn’t tip you off?” he huffed. He wanted to argue more, but instead tensed up as a slight breeze wafted over the two of them, his chest hair being billowed by it.

Derek gritted his teeth as he tried his best to ignore the tingling the breeze caused on his nubby nipples, making his cock start to stir in his tattered shorts.

The very second Derek and Peter had stepped foot on the elusive Bear Beach, they’d immediately felt themselves beginning to change. The first thing the werewolves noticed was the way their jaws had sprouted thick beards, soon followed by hair covering the rest of their bodies— especially their chests. Before either of them could even think to get away from the beach, both of their bodies exploded with flesh. Muscles inflated, but were quickly engulfed by a thick layer of fat that seemed to be centered on their new guts. Their shirts had ripped to shreds, showcasing their massive, pillowy pecs that were capped with large and sensitive nipples. However, their big bellies seemed to be the focus of their growth, making it look as if both of the werewolves had swallowed yoga balls. Derek and Peter’s guts protruded out in front of them, obscuring the view of their own lengthened cocks that dangled crazily as their widened thighs rolled over each other with every step. Even their backs had widened as their large arms puffed up, giving each man a roundish, yet muscular, appearance.

The two werewolves had been turned into total bears simply by stepping foot on Bear Beach.

As soon as the shock of their transformation wore off, Derek and Peter were alerted to the fact that every other man on the beach seemed to share their shocked expressions— all of them looking down at their own massive, hairy form in confusion.

Now the two bear werewolves waddled back to their car, trying to get the hang of moving around with large thighs constantly colliding with one another.

“We need to figure out a way to fix this,” Peter grunted as he poked at his big belly. “I don’t think any of my designer shirts will fit.”

“You poor thing,” Derek snorted, freezing as soon as he heard a loud rip and his shorts finally gave way to his thickened lower half.

The tattered fabric fell to the ground, revealing the alpha’s thickened cock that was at least nine inches and about as thick as a soda can. Not to be outdone, his large hairy ass had ballooned to an exaggerated size, looking like two fuzzy basketballs were strapped to his back.

“Damn it!” Derek roared as he stomped his foot in frustration, flinching as the movement sent a ripple through his massive butt, gut, and pecs. He blushed like crazy. “L-let’s just get out of here.”

The bears lumbered towards Derek’s Camaro, but they had a hard time squeezing their unwanted bulk inside.

Peter, being the smaller of the two, had an easier time, but he still struggled. He wasn’t used to the feeling of having a large gut resting on his lap when he sat down, and he was annoyed at the way his seatbelt completely disappeared between the crevice of his hairy pecs.

Derek had a much harder time. It took all of his cunning to wedge himself into the driver’s seat. He had to shove the seat all the way back, and even at its furthest, his furry belly still pressed against the steering wheel a little bit. Whenever he gulped in a large breath of air, his gut would push out slightly and tap the horn, making him cringe. Worse was that whenever he turned the wheel, his beefy arms would brush against his nubby nipples, making him stifle a moan. It was obviously that his bulk turned him on despite himself, as his humongous cock stiffened and began to bob out at an angle due to his large belly.

“Hopefully Stiles can figure out a way to fix us,” Peter moaned, squirming in his seat as the car’s A/C blew over his mountainous pecs, feeling like someone was running their fingers through his chest hair.

“Yeah,” Derek grunted as he accidentally jostled a nipple again, “…or maybe we can squish him between our bellies first?”

[kayyybenson]

Desk Duty - Sonny Carisi

    I sat at my desk, eating out of a family-sized smart food popcorn bag that Sonny had brought me. It seemed to be the only thing that calmed my pregnancy cravings, that and Soda, any kind, matter of fact, I'll drink whatever is put in front of me. "Y/N, no one is going to steal your popcorn." Amanda joked, causing me to send her a sharp glare. "Okay, point taken, my bad." 

    "I'd rather be on bed rest than be stuck at this stupid uncomfortable desk." I groaned, throwing the empty bag in the trash. I slowly stood up and waddled to the vending machine to raid it. When it didn't give me what I wanted I violently shook it and kicked it. "Fucking machine!"

    "Woah," A familiar voice spoke. "Doll, you should sit down, I'll order you takeout." 

   "NO! I want junk food!" 

    "You need to eat balanced meals so the baby is healthy." I swiftly turned to him, I had no idea where this anger was coming from.

    "Sonny, you have five seconds to get me my bag of sour patch kids before I break down." There was a moment of silence. "Pleasssseeee." I drawled out, trying to guilt-trip him.

    "Carisi, get the girl her sour patch kids before she sets this place on fire." Fin encouraged my childish behavior.

    "Doll, you can get your sour patch kids after you eat some actual food, you've been up since 5 am and all you've eaten is popcorn and some old candy you found in our kitchen." I groaned, letting him drag me back to my desk. He placed a whole pile of takeout menus in front of me, "Pick one," I giggled and lifted up a menu that said 'The restaurant'. "Okay, jokester, what do you want?"

    "Mhhh, the baby says a salad and ketchup." He nodded and picked up the phone to order.

    "I'm glad I'm not the pregnant one," Barba joked, "I'd throw up if I ate that stuff."

    "I do throw up. Morning sickness."

    "I was like that when I was pregnant with Jessie. Fin thought I had cancer." Upon hearing his name Fin looked up and his jaw dropped.

    "Hey, Yo!" I let out a laugh and finished my last sheet of paperwork. Sonny sat the salad on my desk and I immediately started inhaling it. 

    "She does this at home too. It's to the point where I have to make two meals so she can eat the whole thing." Sonny chuckled. "She ate a whole pan of lasagna last night."

    "Guys, we have a homicide, Amanda you stay with Y/N." Olivia walked out of her office, jacket in hand.

    "Oh come on! I can't ride with you?" 

    "No, it's called desk duty for a reason." 

    "Sonny!" I turned to my husband in hopes he would at least let me out of there.

    "Rules are rules." He kissed my forehead. "I'll see you when I get back." I crossed my arms.

    "Check your breaks before you leave the lot," I mumbled, just trying to scare him. He stared at me before slowly backing up.

------ DUN DUN ------

    Amanda and I were playing card games, trying to pass the time. "Go fish," I mumbled as she groaned and picked up a card. I felt water rush down my leg and splash onto the ground, I brought my legs closer together to hide the mess. "I think I just peed myself." 

    "Y/N you're in labor!" She moved to grab both of our purses and led me to the car. "I need you to breath." She turned the siren on and started to speed. I let out a pained groan and she reassured me that I'd be okay.

    "Call Sonny!"

--- Meanwhile with Sonny:

    "Liv, I don't think that's such a good idea." Fin tried to stop the captain from talking to the victim's mother, while I was consoling the father. My phone rang, I ignored it the first two times but answered the third, annoyed.

    "What do you need Amanda, I'm busy."

    "Too busy to know that your wife is in labor?" I could feel the anger radiating off of her. 

    "Excuse me?" 

    "Sonny I'm in labor!" Y/N Now yelled. "The baby is coming and she's coming now!" 

    "Oh god, we'll be at Mercy Hospital, hurry, I think she's cutting off circulation to my hand!" The line went dead.

    "Guys, I have to go. Y/N is in labor, she might kill Amanda if I'm not there soon." 

    "Go, we'll take it from here and meet you there." I started my car and drove to the hospital.

---- Back to Y/N and Amanda:

    I screamed as the contractions got worse. "Just take the damn thing out!"

    "I'm sorry ma'am we can't just yet."

    "Amanda where is my husband!" 

    "I'm here doll." Sonny ran into the room and grabbed my hand. "You're doing great baby." 

    "I want it out!" I yelled again. "Ahhhh!" I screamed once again though this time it was very high-pitched.

    "It's coming, push Mrs. Carisi!" I pushed over and over again until I heard crying. "Mr. Carisi, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?" 

    "Go on." I smiled at him. He rubbed a hand along the side of my face before he went to cut the cord. Once it was tied off and she was cleaned up they handed her to me, I sat up and held her close. 

    "She has your eyes." I turned to Sonny, who was crying. 

    "And your nose. She's perfect, little Serenity Carisi." After a while, the rest of the group showed up and swooned over the baby.

    "Guys, this is Serenity, Serenity, these are your aunts and uncles." I introduced them.

    "Oh wow, she's beautiful." Amanda praised. "Hi, Serenity. She's a mini Y/N."

    "Yeah, but she has Carisi's baby blues." Fin pointed out.

    "We did good," Sonny jokes around, earning a slap on the arm from Liv.

[regulus-books]

wc: 600+

warnings: none

notes: kinda hurt/comfort but not rly super angsty. also so so sorry for not continuing with jegulus microfics, i was super super busy, but ill probably start them up again soon:))

Regulus wakes up early in the morning, usually he sees James sleeping right beside him, but not today. In fact, James' whole side of the bed has gone completely cold.

Regulus furrows his eyebrows, and stands up. Maybe James has just gone on a run or something, that's normal.

Regulus makes breakfast and lunch for James, pushing it into the fridge with a little note that reads, “gone to work, i love you so much. also we're visiting your mum on sunday. hope you have a good day:) -reg”.

Regulus gets dressed as usual, kissing their dogs head on the way out the door. James had insisted on getting a puppy on their one year, he called her a symbolism of their love. She's a good sized golden retriever, named Sunny. Her fur is completely blonde with tiny little platinum streaks, she's always perfectly groomed, as Regulus cant stand the hair.

Regulus drives to work as normal, his black convertible making a purr sound.

Work is long and boring, and Regulus can't wait to go home. When he finally does get home, James' car is back in the lot, parked pristinely.

Regulus unbuckles and walks into the house, Sunny greeting him at the door. She jumps up, asking for head pats. "Hello, silly girl, how was your day?" He scratches behind her ears, "C'mon, hop on down, sweetheart, I don't want your fur all over my black suit. Where's daddy, hm?" Sunny runs alongside Regulus as he tracks into the house, the television is turned on quietly, but James isn't watching it.

Regulus ignores it, sometimes Sunny steps on the remote and accidentally turns it on. Regulus walks up the stairs, undoing his tie. "Jamie? I'm home, love." He runs his fingers through his hair, opening the door to their bedroom. And then there's James. Curled up in a ball on Regulus' side of the bed. "Love?" Regulus sits beside him, placing a hand on James' side.

James sniffles, then lets out a short sob, and now, Regulus is really concerned.

"Jamie, love, sit up. Talk to me, babe." Sunny jumps up on the bed and lays down next to Regulus. James turns to face Regulus, his nose is pink and tears streak his brown skin. "What's wrong?" Regulus rubs the outside of James' thigh, trying to provide some comfort.

"I'm sorry, Reg, you shouldn't have to come home to this," James covers his face with his hands, wiping away at his tears.

"Baby, it's not just my home, it's yours just as equally, cry all you need. Now, what's wrong."

"No, this is bullshit, Reg. You do everything around here. You work from 5 - 17, every single day, you cook, you clean and I do nothing. And here I am, laying in bed, crying and you just barely got home. I should be making dinner right now or something." James moves to get up, but Regulus places a firm hand on his leg, telling him not to.

"James, tell me what's wrong." He says, a little more strictly this time.

"I got rejected." He says, simply. "No one wants me," James laughs through his tears, "I've practiced only my whole life, I have the build, I have everything. They won't accept me." James has been signing up for quidditch teams for the past year, each one, he makes it to the final moments, but each time he's rejected. Regulus frowns and engulfs James in a tight hug.

"Baby, it's okay. They're fools for not wanting you." Regulus kisses the side of James' head softly.

Two months later him and Sunny are sitting on the family benches, watching James sore through the sky, they can barely see him passing the quaffle.

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and to Heal (Part 11)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

TW: Descriptions of death, car crash and loss

Chicken parmesan is a staple in Martin's diet. With his homemade tomato sauce and a bit of fresh mozzarella, it's healthy enough to be a regular weeknight meal for him without having to classify it as a cheat meal. He's memorized his favorite recipe and always keeps the ingredients stocked in his fridge, which he's grateful for now.  It’s easy to make as well, meaning he can operate more or less on autopilot without needing to focus too much on what he was doing.

Kieran picked up Atla from school, for which Martin was eternally grateful. From the moment Arteta dismissed them from training, Martin had exactly two hours until you would arrive at his doorstep, and he wanted to have everything plated and ready to go when you got there. He should've had more time, but Mikel insisted on rerunning one particular drill multiple times until it was perfect. Martin had thought it flawless the first three times but apparently not; it had cost him an extra half hour to appease the gaffer. 

Now Martin flies around his kitchen, breading the butterflied chicken breast with practiced skill while his tomatoes sit uncut on the counter. He tackles those once the meat is in the oven, slicing and chopping until he's happy with the size. Into a simmering pot they go, combined with tomato paste and a blend of spices that he eyeballs rather than properly measures. In his mind, food turns out better when it's seasoned from the heart and not with a measuring spoon. 

Once Martin has a moment to breathe, he sets about tackling the scattered art supplies and clean laundry piled around the house. Between his recent shoddy mood and the overtime he's put in at training lately, he has had little time to keep up with Atla's clutter. Normally Martin wouldn't touch it. He likes his house to feel lived in, preferring a manageable amount of disarray to a clinically clean home. Tonight is a different story. He wants to impress you; everything needs to be perfect.

Martin is still fixing his stray hairs in the hallway mirror when the doorbell rings. He spots a smudge in the glass as he swears under his breath- not perfect, but as perfect as it’s going to get. 

"Hi."

"Hello." Martin can't take his eyes off you. He loves it when you dress comfortably like this, in well-loved sneakers, a pair of jeans and a red top that matches the bottle of wine in your hand. Martin gestures to it, "you didn't need to bring anything. I've not had that brand before, where's it from?"

"Oh um," you fidget on your feet, tucking the bottle in the crook of your arm and tugging the sleeves of your top over your hands. "It's from Norway? It's from some place that has a huge greenhouse, the person at the store was really excited about it. I'll be honest, I heard 'Norway' and was already sold on buying it."

God, you're adorable. Martin could kiss you, if it weren't for the fact that you're probably still cross with him. And that you deserve more than a rushed peck right now. And also, the fact that you're standing outside his house waiting to be invited in. 

"Oh, please come in. Sorry, I forgot my manners there." Martin steps aside to allow you in. He politely ignores the way your eyes widen as you take in his house, allowing you to judge him as you please. He's never had an eye for decorating and he fears that much is apparent. Suddenly Martin is all too aware that the curtains in the dining room clash horribly with the pattern on the seats at the table. He sighs internally at the dried paint pallet he forgot to grab off the coffee table by the sofa and the pair of tiny pink socks peeking out from under it. 

"Don't mind the mess," Martin says off hand as he takes the wine and pours two glasses. "I didn't have time to properly clean up. We got held late at training and of course I picked a dish that takes way too long to prepare, so I didn't have time for too much else."

Your slender fingers brush Martin's when you accept the glass he holds out. The sparks that sing up his arm nearly knock him off his feet. In that moment, Martin will do anything to have you forgive him. If you grant him the opportunity of a second chance, he won't squander it; he'll do everything in his power to treat you with the respect you deserve. Because that smile on your lips right now? Martin's craved like an addict, and now that he's seen it again he never wants to see any other expression from you. 

"Thank you, Mar. I don't mind the mess, really. I'm too busy trying to figure out what smells so delicious to look anywhere but your spotless kitchen- is it italian?"

Martin is so grateful that you've fallen into a normal conversation that he nearly forgets to reply. "Oh- it's just chicken parmesan, one of my favorites. I hope that's alright? I can make something else if not, or I could maybe order takeout quick… I'm sorry, I didn't even think to ask if you'd like it-" Martin cuts himself off, cheeks flaring. He's acutely aware of how his fingers itch to fidget with something. He keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, playing with a stray coin that somehow made it through the wash without falling out.

"It's alright," you laugh and Martin's anxiety ebbs with the sound. "Chicken parm sounds great, it smells amazing too." You reach out and touch the side of Martin's forearm, the contact as soft as butterfly feet on his skin but it's enough to have him sighing. "Thank you for cooking. I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem, I needed to do something to show you how sorry I am. I was out of line-" Martin stops when you shake your head, that blissfully forgiving smile on your face. 

"Let's just have dinner first, okay? Then after, we can talk. Does that sound alright to you?"

Martin swears you're perfect. He's done denying it; he's enjoying this too much to pretend he doesn't feel pulled to you like waves to a shoreline. Martin would like to take you there actually- the beach. He'd love to see you building sandcastles with Atla, then splashing in the water when the blazing sun gets too warm. Maybe he could suggest it as a date this summer-

When you wave a hand in front of Martin's face, he realizes you've been speaking without him hearing a single word. At this point, you're causing enough distraction that Martin should be terrified… except he's not.

"I'm sorry I'm out of it- come sit and I'll get everything served up." Hearing his mum's content praise in his head, Martin pulls out a chair for you and pushes it in once you've sat down. Then he plates up a healthy portion of buttery green beans onto a plate for you, alongside a piece of chicken that, honestly, makes his mouth water. He hopes it's as good as it usually is. 

"Here you are," Martin murmurs, one hand braced on the back of your chair as he sets the meal in front of you. He takes a seat across from you, settling in and placing his napkin over his lap. He feels like somewhat of an imposter, pretending to be fancy when he feels anything but, though the shine in your eyes as you wait for him to speak makes his breath hitch. 

"Um, bon appétit? I hope you like it." Martin waits until your attention is on your food to carefully cut into his own meal. Yes, his hands are shaking; no he's never been this nervous over a dinner. Not even when he met with the big wigs at Arsenal to discuss a move from Madrid. 

Martin nearly chokes when you moan after the first bite. "God this is amazing Martin, I didn't expect you to be such a great cook!" Martin finally takes a bite himself, delighted when the perfectly melted cheese and crispy breading hits his tongue. Normally he isn’t one to brag, but this may be some of his best work to date. 

With his nerves eased, Martin falls into comfortable conversation for the remainder of the meal. You ask for seconds, so he delivers. You're happily surprised when he brings out a cheesecake for dessert- and he's rewarded with your beautiful laugh when he tells you how he had to fend off little fingers from snagging a bite this morning. 

Once your fork is down, however, Martin knows it's time for the serious bits. He's dreaded this all day, creating a script in his head of exactly what he wants to say. He's not ready, but he's as prepared as he'll ever be. 

"So," Martin starts, "first off I have to thank you for giving me a second chance. And for trusting me to make up to you for my actions last week."

Martin hates himself for the way your eyes fall to the ivy patterns on the tablecloth. He hates that he can see the fear that brims in you now at the reminder of how angry he'd been. All he wants to do is set it right. 

"I trust you because I know it was a one time thing, right?"

"Yes- yes absolutely," Martin murmurs quickly. "And I promised you that I'd explain- can I show you something actually?"

"Oh- yes, sure, you can." Martin stretches a hand out, heart pounding as you hold him on edge. It takes a few seconds for you to decide but eventually your soft palm slides against his, your fingers curling to wrap around his own. It's right. It's home. It's perfect. Martin can't hold back his smile, so he lets it unfurl as he leads you upstairs, going slow so you can take your time looking at the photos scattered on the wall. 

"All of these are just you and Atla," you note absently, turning to Martin like you expected more. You probably did, considering his closeness with the rest of the team. Martin's nod sends a lock of hair tumbling free to fall across his forehead and he doesn't bother fixing it. 

"That's a recent change," he explains in a voice full of gravel. "So is this room here. It was Maria's studio." Martin points to the white door at the end of the hall, the one he spent far too long avoiding. 

"Your wife," you murmur softly, squeezing Martin's hand when he nods, throat too tight to speak. "You've never told me her name before." 

"I uh, I don't talk about her too much. It still hurts, you know?" Martin's smile feels forced, but he's grateful for the steady support your hand provides him. "Come on, come with me." 

You don't speak as you let Martin lead you to the only closed door in his house. The brass knob is cold, but he was expecting that. He pushes it open, a million memories rushing in with the first step he takes. The wooden planks creak softly beneath his feet as he leads you to the center of the room, getting lost for a minute. 

Over the past week, Martin has channeled his extra energy into transforming this room from one filled with ghosts to a place where his daughter's creativity can run wild. Where towering stacks of cardboard boxes used to sit near the window, now sits a wooden toddler-sized easel. The half painted canvases that were haphazardly piled where he's standing now are neatly stacked on an art rack, waiting for Atla to complete them someday. And on the wall that the room shares with his own bedroom is the collection of paintings he loves most: Norwegian fields, family portraits, and the last painting his late wife ever created. 

"Oh, Martin, these are beautiful." You keep a respectful distance, admiring the artwork from afar. "Did Maria paint all these? They're wonderful… I see where Atla's talent stems from."

"This one is my favorite," Martin murmurs, pointing to the portrait of a smiling baby girl perched in his lap. "It's the last one Maria ever finished. It's the only one I have of Atla and I together."

Martin draws a deep breath, chest rattling with the effort of holding back tears. "I've not talked about this with anyone except the grief counselor- so please just bear with me."

The fingers of your free hand curl around Martin's bicep to provide five pinpricks of safety. Your touch, the pressure of your fingers on his tense muscles, grounding him, keeping him present, as if saying I'm here, I'm listening and I'll let you speak. A silent promise to stay by his side. I'm not going anywhere. Your closeness, the smell of your rosy shampoo mixed with generic laundry detergent, the quiet unsteady breaths, heavy with anticipation, the floor creaking under your weight as you shift from one leg to the other, most likely a byproduct of nerves. 

You, your proximity, feels like a single match in the otherwise pitch black darkness, the same darkness that always clouds the man's mind, serving as a guiding light, always promising to bring him back home. Home to Arsenal. Home to you. Home to safety, home to Atla. 

And somehow, in this otherwise dreadful moment- Martin has never been more grateful for you. 

"The reason I hate storms is because that's what killed her. Not directly, but it was the storm of the century that night, or at least that's what I was told afterward. She was coming home from her art lessons at the senior home across town… I told her to cancel, but Maria was always the woman who would never cancel a commitment once she made it. I loved that about her."

Martin has never spoken about loving Maria in past tense until tonight. 

"The uh… the stoplight down the street got knocked down with the winds. There was a ton of construction a little ways away, I guess they were just finishing up for the night. A- faen what is it… the big things with all the wheels- a truck? A truck- filled with sand or dirt or whatever it was had just left, headed towards the main road to get out and get home." 

Martin pauses. The night replays in his brain the same way it has thousands of times. It's haunted him, trying to imagine exactly what happened that night, his mind drawing a dozen different scenarios each more gruesome than the last.

Martin knows he couldn't have saved her, but he wishes he could've eased her pain. Been a loving face for her to see in her final moments.

"The truck driver didn't see her. And since there was no signal, he didn't think to look… He- he blew right through it. He slammed right into her car as she was going through. Not his fault- how would he have known? He was just trying to get home to his own family."

"Mar…"

Martin is aware of your arms wrapped around his middle, though he doesn't remember it happening. He can't take his eyes off that painting of him smiling down at Atla, happy as can be. His vision tilts and shifts as tears well in his eyes. Martin is dimly aware of the paths they streak on his cheeks. 

"There was pieces everywhere. Shattered glass like that stuff at parades- confetti? And broken plastic… blood, so much blood. The driver was crying- all I remember was this… numbness? I was cold, and wet- Kieran was there I think, or he was at the house with Atla… its all blurry."

"The doctors said it was almost instant, that she didn't feel much at all. I just hope that's true, I hope she didn't realize what was happening. That painting, the one I love so much? It was untouched in the crash- the car was mangled but that painting was perfect, not even a drop of rain on it when I pulled it out. Maria made it that night, from a photo reference she'd brought with her."

Your sniffle is what tears Martin out of his head. He wraps his arms firmly around your shoulders, holding you to him while you muffle your sobs in his chest. "That's why I hate storms, and that's why I freaked out. I know it's not an excuse for how I acted, but maybe it'll help you understand why I reacted how I did. And I'm working through it, I promise- I made an appointment with a woman who specializes in helping people overcome their fears, I'm seeing her later this month. I'm gonna work on it, because I want you to know I'm serious about this."

The only noise is Martin's breathing and your soft crying. He's not sure how long he stands there cradling you, but he'll do it for however long you need. Like he wishes someone had done for him years ago.

"Serious about what," you ask minutes later, pulling back just enough to wipe your eyes. Martin wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss away the tears on your cheeks, to erase the heartache you feel on his behalf. 

"About you, us, this relationship." Martin cradles your jaw in his hands, holding you with the softness one would use with a delicate flower. “No one has seen this room yet, not even Atla. I wanted it to be a surprise for her. But before I did that, I just… I needed to show you. So you would understand. I’m still healing- but I’m trying to heal quicker so I can be someone you can lean on.”

“Martin… Hey, look at me.” When Martin does as you ask, everything crashes over him at once. The crushing, soul splitting despair he felt on the night of the accident, the spark of affection that ignited a flame in his chest the first time he heard you laugh, the relief of finally sharing his story with someone. 

But finally, in the deepest part of him, he lets go. Martin allows the love he held for Maria to loosen it’s deathgrip on his heart and allows you to creep in. It’s worrisome, how easily you sneak in and nestle yourself into him, but he doesn’t care. He meant what he said; Martin is willing to try for you. He wants this to work.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Your thumbs rubbing along Martin’s jaw ground him. “I don’t want you to rush through recovery for my benefit. I hate seeing you struggle, of course I do, but I’ll wait as long as it takes, alright? Don’t feel like you need to put yourself on a timeline for me. I’ll wait, Mar, okay? Just keep trusting me.”

And Martin believes every word. He trusts you to be patient. You'll be at his side on the good days and the bad ones, when the residuals of his grief threaten to pull him under. It won't be an easy road, or a short one. Recovery will be barred by landslides and long stretches of obstacles. 

You are the light at the end of his tunnel. You are the goal he will work towards- you and Atla. Being a better man for the women in his life, both past and present. 

[itsohh]

Missing Part 2

A/N: Female reader, haha so it helps when I actually hit the post button mb.

Summary: On your tail Gustave and Taina continue their search for you, getting ever closer.

Word count:  1964

Warnings: None

AO3 Part 1

Sleep hadn't taken Gustave very easily that night. While Taina had slept in the spare room he had stolen the couch in your basement. It wasn't the largest of rooms, but you still managed to fit in the couch, desk and pool table. He couldn't sleep the night in the master room, it didn't feel right. Not with your absence. Then with the smell of your blood, a coppery scent that plagued his mind, spending the night in your living room was a no-go. By the time he got up in the morning, there was a considerable increase in the size of the bags under his eyes. Tania had helped herself to some of the supplies they had brought while she worked away on the laptop.

"Morning. You missed Sam, Meghan got a result on your girl's Toyota." She spoke without looking up, the blood around was ignored while she sat on the living room couch, legs folded. There was the light scene of toast in the air, a single piece left on her plate that sat on the coffee table. "It's going further South, Sam speculates it's going to the border."

"How long of a drive is it?"

"About sixteen hours no stops."

"If she is injured she will need to take breaks." Not that you prefer to, a rather stubborn one at times. Gustave's mind went to the car trips the pair of you had shared, always desperate to get as far as possible before you stayed in some motel for the night. Always one to push the limits much to his light-hearted concern.

"Now that you're up, make yourself some breakfast and we can go. We are going in her trail, Meghan believes she knows where K spent the night." There was something that rubbed Gustave wrong, not once since the situation started did someone say your actual name. Only referring to you as your codename, perhaps it was easier to distance themselves from you, to distance themselves from the fact that you were very much their friend. Yet he didn't speak up on the matter, he knew so long as he was there, he had the control to make sure there was that level of emphatic connection.

Taina liked listening to music while she drove, not that he could understand it. It was a playlist of indie rock that he presumed originated from her home country considering most of the music was sung in Portuguese, the odd song having English in it. The music wasn't played too loud, more of a background sound than anything. She kept it at respectable levels as she drove. She wasn't one to really talk much while she drove, not that he particularly wished to. Perhaps if they were on a different mission, in a different situation he would make more conversation. But not then.

After a few hours, Taina turned the music off as they pulled into an old motel. Sam had mentioned that your car wasn't seen past the upcoming intersection so they presumed you stayed the night here. It wasn't anything special. A two-story building with no other cars in the car park, and a small check-in area downstairs. The vacancies sign flickered as their car stopped and they both got out of it. Tania led them towards the reception area, immediately her stance told him she would be taking control here, taking the lead.

A small bell rang as they came in and the woman at the desk looked up from her phone for a moment. Taina's eyes scanned the keys on the wall. There was only one hook that had only one set of keys, a set of keys that she spied next to the woman on the counter. Most likely that was the room you had spent the night in, unable to rent before they cleaned it out. "Hi, two queens or a king?" The girl's voice was monotone as she asked.

"A king we won't be here for long." The woman seemed unphased and leaned back grabbing the key labelled 'six'. Silently Tania smiled, yours had been 'seven' which made the situation far easier to get to.

"Regardless of the time you spend, you will be charged for the night. Credit card or cash?"

"Card." The girl typed away at the computer in front of her before the EFTPOS machine in front of Taina lit up. With the swipe of her card, a payment was made. Not that it was coming out of her pocket, no, the room would be charged to Rainbow. The woman slipped her the key and the pair of them walked out of the reception room. Tania glanced over her shoulder and it seemed the receptionist cared little for their actions as her eyes immediately went back to her phone, not nothing to watch them go to their own room.

Instead of going to room six, they headed to seven where once again Tania's lockpicking skills were put to work. Unlike your door, this door was far easier to get through and after a few seconds, it clicked open. The curtains had been drawn and you had left quite a bit of mess. Similar to your safehouse, there was blood-covered tissue but this time it was dumped in the trash. They started to scan the room. Gustave started to look at the bedding that had been bunched up in a corner, only finding stains of blood on it. Some of it was in the middle area while more of it was at the end. It didn't tell him much info, not other than did you raid of medical supplies in the bathroom. Only that they were old enough to have dried.

Taina's eyes fell on a notepad that seemed to be freshly cut. Next to it was a pencil. Carefully she started to cover the pad in lead, small white lines coming through showing the indents of what had been written.

"Gustave, what do you make of this?" She called that man over. There together they looked at what you had written. It wasn't so much writing but more of a graph. On the left-hand side, you had written 'Then' and then a long line that connected to 'Now'. Above the lone line, you had put a bunch of question marks. In small print, he could manage to see the words 'Ten years?' written.

"What do they think it means?" She asked him and she frowned, he wasn't sure.

"Perhaps something took place for ten years that she's trying to figure out. It doesn't bring anything to mind."

There have been some more notes that you had taken but the hard pressure of scribbles crossing them out prevented them from figuring out what it was. "Do we know what she was doing ten years ago? Perhaps something or someone from her past has resurfaced." She looked towards Gustave.

"No, we will need to ask Harry about that. Her past wasn't anything that she has brought up with me." Because you were hiding something or because it was just something that never came up, he didn't know. It was never something that bothered him, never something he cared for. Most operatives had something in their past that they wished to bury, hell, Taina next to him was one of them.

"We are going to need to find out if this is a potential lead." Taina made eye contact with him, while he didn't want to find out this way, while he rather wished you would tell him when you were the most comfortable, he knew that if it was important they needed to know. They got the laptop from the car and set themselves up in the room, the receptionist hadn't looked towards them even once when they got their stuff from the car.

Harry looked down as they described what they had discovered, nodding as they requested information from your personal file. "Normally I wouldn't send through personal files but on this occasion, I will. I trust this information will stay between the three of us, for privacy's sake." Harry sent through the file, one that only he and Sam had looked at.

A small notification came through as your personal file PDF came through. It certainly wasn't short. Skimming the text he scrolled down until he found what they were looking for. "Hm, she hasn't joined the military. Not officially."

"Not officially?" Tania peered over his shoulder.

"It seems like she was living in America at the time. A mechanic for illegal street racing." A pop came from Tania's lips as she looked up.

"You know, that makes so much sense." Her mind was thrown back to all the times you drove, just a little more recklessly, just a little bit faster than everyone else.

"When did she join the military?"

"Nine years ago, it seems she was a whistleblower on the operation that was happening where she worked when she found out about the human trafficking. Officially in the States she was apprehended and deported. Unofficially she signed an agreement to join the police and trained to be an undercover operative.” He continued to scan the long text about the history of said undercover operations, brief statements that didn’t go into too much detail and then finally the very undetailed history of your time with the NZSAS.

“Hmm, this human trafficking could be a possible motive. Harry, what do you know about this?” Taina leaned over Gustave and made eye contact through the camera.

“Aside from the fact it was a massive success due to her information, nothing more than you see in front of you. I hesitate to ask Eliza about it but if need be I can.”

“Ask Miles about it, he's less likely to ask questions.” Eliza's distrust of Harry's judgement wasn’t something that was a secret from Gustave, Miles however would be able to supply the same amount of information but without further probing.

“I will send him a message-” A call interrupted them, it was Meghan. Gustave added her to the call and she jumped a little to see Harry there.

“I just got some CCTV of her at a gas station, she's not too far away from you guys. If you hurry you might be able to catch up with her, shes maybe an hour away. Here.” She shared the footage. Gustave and Taina kept their eyes on the security footage. “I also contacted the owner and they gave us their indoor security footage here.” Another file was sent through. The first showed your car showing up. From there they could see you get out of the car, there was a limp on your right leg, your head was covered with a hood and for a brief moment, your face turned to face the camera. Your upper face was covered with a pair of sunglasses while the bottom of your face was covered with a mask. If it hadn’t been for their tracking, you could have been anyone. Gas was put in the car and you promptly went inside to pay. Cash. Five minutes you were in and out.

“I’ve sent you the location on your phones.” Tania looked down as the text came through.

“If we hurry we can be there in half an hour. Right on her tail.” Gustave frowned as he scrolled back on the security footage while Tania started to pack up their things. He zoomed in on your thigh, blood had gone through your pants, still wet. Whatever your injury was, it wasn’t getting better. They needed to be quick if he was to treat your wound. “Let's move out.”

[skylarsin7]

Chapter 16: Aftermath

Two Days Later

An earthquake. They were calling it an earthquake. Ridiculous. But, the good news was that most people were packing up and leaving. It was for the best really. There were so many missing or dead already. If the Upside Down was really bleeding into Hawkins, then the less people on the battlefield, the better. 

Lily watched as Steve pulled out of the driveway, and stared after him long after the car vanished from sight. She let the curtain fall back, and turned. The guest room was comfortable enough, but the last two days had been hell. Nightmares and fevers had plagued her, and that didn't even come close to the embarrassment and shame she felt for her open display of poorly placed passion. She still couldn't look Steve in the eye. Or bring herself to speak to him beyond a word or two. She crossed the hall into the bathroom, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, drawn, her lips a thin, grim line. Dark circles stood out under her eyes like vivid bruises, her eyes sunken and lackluster. She looked like death, and didn't feel much better. She had overheard Steve talking with Robin last night about helping out at the high school. It had been set up as a kind of relief center. She didn't care that she was still technically a missing and wanted person or not. She had to help.

She searched through the closet of the guest room, finding nothing. Disappointed, she crossed the hall to Steve’s room. She rummaged around, ignoring the fact that she was in Steve’s room, letting out a small triumphant sound as she found a pair of faded black sweatpants. They hung off her several sizes too big, but at least the pants had a drawstring. In his closet, she found a hoodie, which also hung off her slight frame. Once dressed, she tucked her hair into a beanie cap, taking one last look in the mirror. She looked like a hobo, but she supposed it was different enough that she wouldn't be recognized right away. If anyone paid any attention to her at all. As she turned to leave, she spied Eddie’s jean vest hung in the closet. Grief and rage bubbled up in her chest in equal measure. Why did Steve still have it? If it belonged to anyone, it should be her. She reached for it, her fingers halting just centimeters from the rough fabric. Steve’s blood still stained it in places, and each patch mocked her with its familiarity. These were all the things Eddie loved, and would never enjoy again. She tore her gaze away, bolting from the room.

***

The high school was swarming with people when she arrived, droves upon droves flooding the doors and milling outside. She was already tired from the walk, covered in a light sheen of sweat despite the chill. She made her way inside, nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the building. It was a zoo. Cots had been lined up in neat rows, nearly one on top of the other and there were almost no vacancies. Tables laden with blankets, clothes, kids toys, and food were arranged around the perimeter, with several volunteers working them. She spied Steve sorting clothes, smiling softly to himself. She wondered briefly what he was thinking about. Maybe you… Her mind teased, taunting her with images of her romantic blunder, which caused her face to heat up. She shook her head, dispelling that mocking voice. She spied a huge bulletin board on the back wall, nearly overrun with missing persons posters. She felt drawn to it by a force she didn't comprehend. As she neared it, she froze. 

"Mr. Munson? I'm Dustin Henderson, can we...talk?" Dustin approached Wayne as he replaced the graffitied missing persons poster of Eddie with a new one. Wayne paused, barely offering Dustin a glance. "I don't believe there is anything for us to talk about. My nephew is innocent, and he's still missing. I'll put up as many posters as I need to until he is found." Wayne's voice had an edge of determination and Lily had to suppress a sob. Dustin hesitated for a moment and Wayne brushed past him, heading right for Lily. His eyes looked right through as if she wasn’t even there. "Good day to you." He said to Dustin as he walked passed. "I was with him…I was with him when the earthquake hit." Dustin's words froze the older man in his tracks. "And…where is Eddie now?" Wayne asked, turning back to face the younger man. Dustin's face crumpled, his brown eyes glassy with tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Eddie's guitar pick necklace. "I'm sorry…" Dustin managed as he handed it over. Lily could see that Eddie's blood still stained the chain. Wayne seemed to age right before their eyes, crumpling in on himself as his shoulders shook, grief crashed over him. Lily understood his pain all too well. 

  Eddie's uncle sank onto an empty cot, gripping the chain tightly in his fist as silver tears streaked down his tanned and wrinkled face. Dustin followed, sitting on the edge of the cot. "I wish everyone had gotten to know him....really know him. Because they would have loved him." He said quietly. "They would have loved him. Even in the end, he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything…" Dustin swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "I never even saw him get mad." He paused again, as if searching his memory. "He could have run…could've saved himself. But he didn't. He fought. He fought and died to protect this town…this town that hated him. He isn't just innocent, Mr. Munson…he's…he's a hero…" Lily gathered her courage and cleared her throat. 

"He was so much more than that." She said as she approached. Dustin’s attention snapped to her.  "Lily, what are you?..." He asked, his eyes wide with shock. She silenced him with a look. She sank to her knees before Eddie's uncle, gently taking his withered hands in her own. "He was kind, courageous, and had a bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for. He was the man that I loved. And the people that really counted, the ones that really mattered,  always knew he was innocent." Wayne turned her hand over in his, eyeing Eddie's ring. "This was one of his…" He managed quietly. Lily nodded. "He asked me to marry him the night before the earthquake. And I said yes. With your permission, I would like to bear his name for the rest of my life." Wayne stared at her, his eyes wide and full of tears. "I can think of no better way to honor him. But...are you sure? You are so young and to tie yourself…" Wayne broke off and she offered him a small smile. "I was prepared to bear his name as his wife. I will bear his name as his widow. For under the stars we were wed in all the ways that truly counted." She told him. Wayne leaned down and hugged her tightly. "He was lucky to have you. To have you both." He murmured. 

  "Excuse me, hello? Officer, I am looking for my daughter…" Lily froze. She knew that voice. She turned her head just enough to see her mother and stepfather cornering an officer of the Hawkins PD. She slowly pulled away from Wayne. "Dustin…it's my parents…" She could barely breathe as her heart leapt in her throat. Dustin's eyes widened as he followed her gaze. Wayne's eyes fell on them as well. "Go, we will hold them off." Eddie’s uncle seemed to understand without prompting that they couldn't know she was there. Dustin stood, his eyes steely as he approached them. Wayne stood, shoving Lily behind him. "Walk slowly into the crowd, and try not to draw attention to yourself." He murmured. She nodded, squeezing his hand. "Thank you." She whispered. He nodded. "Go." 

"Please, her name is Liliana and we are so worried…" Her mother was saying as Dustin approached. "You’re Lily's mother?" He asked, his voice a low growl. She turned to face him, her stricken expression turning into one of confusion. "Where is she?" The man at her side said, mock concern edging every syllable. Dustin would have laughed but for the hatred blooming in his chest. “Somewhere you will never be able to hurt her again.” Dustin’s voice was a snarl, his eyes steely and ice cold. Mr. Ramsey leveled him with a stare that a few days ago would have had him quaking in his shoes, but after what they had seen and been through, it would take a lot more than an angry glare to intimidate him. “Hurt her? How dare you presume to…” Mr. Ramsey’s face lit up scarlet, rapidly bordering purple as his rage bubbled. Dustin ignored him and his eyes fell on Lily’s mother, who seemed to shrink a little behind her husband. “You heard me right. She is out of your reach now. Did you know that your loving husband used to beat her? Slap her, scream at her and abuse her whenever you weren’t around? Threaten her with even more pain if she went to you about it?” Mrs. Ramsey stared at him, her jaw hanging slack. Clearly, she hadn’t known. Mr. Ramsey bristled even more. “How dare you… who the hell are you?” He hissed, his fists curled at his sides. He seemed to be weighing the merits of decking a minor. 

Dustin continued to ignore him. “She had the bruises and scars to prove it. One that was particularly bad across her back. Made by the buckle of his belt.” Dustin’s eyes finally landed on Mr. Ramsey. “Who the hell am I? That’s rich coming from you, Pastor. There is a special place in hell for those that delight in inflicting pain on others. Especially women who are not as prepared to defend themselves. Especially a daughter you were meant to protect. I was one of Lily’s friends. We were there for her when no one else was.” He sneered. His eyes fell again on Mrs. Ramsey. “You want to know where your daughter is? She’s dead. She died alongside the man she loved, sacrificing herself to help save a town that barely knew her, but had become her home. We offered a safe place where she could be herself, not some better homes and gardens version of her you tried to create. No wonder she ran away from home. You didn’t care enough to see what he was doing to her, didn’t care enough to listen when she tried to tell you. You and your false concern can go straight to hell. Straight. To. Hell. She is beyond your reach now.” 

Mrs. Ramsey continued to stare at him, as if his words didn’t quite penetrate her thick skull. Wayne placed a gentle hand on Dustin’s shoulder as Mr. Ramsey leveled him with a glare that had the potential to curdle dairy. “And why should we believe some small town, godless freak? If you are withholding my daughter’s location from us…” Mr. Ramsey sneered, his threat hanging unspoken but heavy between them. It was Wayne that spoke before Dustin had the chance to. “Not that I care about your high and mighty opinion or disposition, but the boy is telling the truth. Lily was engaged to my nephew, and they perished together in the earthquake that has devastated our town. As you can see, we are all in mourning. I suggest you go back to where you came from and do the same. As the boy said, she is out of your abusive reach now.” Mr. Munson’s voice never rose, but held all the coldness of an arctic blast. He tightened his grip on Dustin’s shoulder. It was all the warning he needed to stay put, and stay quiet. 

Mrs. Ramsey seemed to finally understand Dustin’s words and let out an agonized wail, burying her face in her husband’s chest. He cradled her close, but the gesture was only a front. His eyes never left Wayne’s face, and that stare promised an eternity of torture and pain. He led the prone woman away, who continued to cry and wail. At least her grief seemed real enough. Lily stood frozen, her back to them. She didn’t dare glance back in case her stepfather was still watching. She hadn’t known that Eddie had told Dustin about her scars. She thought back to all the times that the duo could have been alone and…she shook her head. Up on the roof of Eddie’s trailer in the Upside Down. That would have explained Dustin’s expression and the fact that they immediately stopped talking as she had approached. She felt a brief flash of anger, but understanding followed after it. That was a burden she shouldn’t have expected Eddie to keep to himself. Dustin cared for her as much as Eddie had, and it was better he knew instead of him finding out by accident later. Her heart felt heavy and sore with the loss of her mother, but in its wake came an incredible lightness. She was free. She sent a grateful glance skyward as if to say “See Eds, it’s over now.” She stepped away from Dustin and Wayne, moving into the crowd. She had almost reached the door when a hand curled around her bicep, yanking her to a stop. She gasped sharply, her heart hammering like a drum as she half-turned to see Steve’s furious dark eyes glaring back at her, spearing her to where she stood. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed. She swallowed hard, but felt herself relaxing, grateful it wasn’t her stepfather. “I’m not a child Steve. I will not be herded like one of your nuggets.” She matched his tone, lifting her chin in defiance. “You are certainly acting like a child. You know how dangerous it is right now.” He growled, tightening his grip on her arm. She fought a wince, leveling him with eyes sharp as amber glass. “I turned eighteen three days ago. I am an adult and can make my own choices. I wanted to help. So I came to help.” She fought to keep her voice level. Steve made a sound of frustration in his throat, pulling her with him as he stepped outside.

         “Are you out of your mind?” He asked, keeping his voice low. He pulled her around the side of the building, out of sight. He all but pinned her against the wall. It didn’t escape his notice that under any other circumstances, this would have been a very seemingly intimate situation. She didn’t answer him right away, her eyes glazing over with tears. “Why do you still have his vest?” She asked bluntly, her voice quiet, almost a growl as she wrestled with her emotions. He hesitated, glancing away from her. “That isn’t the issue at hand.” He replied. She stared him down, amber blazing in her irises. “Why. Do. You. Still. Have. His. Vest?” She asked a second time, her tone daring him to refuse her again. He sighed heavily. “I…I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.” He admitted. She swallowed hard, unable to hold her tears back. They streaked down her face, soaking the collar of her hoodie. He reached for her but she shrank away, out of his grasp. He sighed. “I thought maybe if I kept it…it would make things less painful…his absence less real.” He added, stepping towards her once more. And again, she shrank away from him. “Lily, please…” His voice was beseeching, his eyes begging her to let him comfort her. She refused to concede and he sighed. 

  “Alright, let me take you home.” He compromised. “I want to go see Max first.” She said, her eyes and voice like stone. He hesitated, but nodded. “Let me go get the others.” He backed away from her cautiously, as if he were afraid she would bolt. She didn’t and he returned a few moments later, Robin and Dustin in tow. “Lily?” Robin asked breathlessly as she approached. Lily nodded, unable to keep eye contact for long. “I wanted to help.” She offered simply in way of explanation. Robin’s gaze softened. “Oh honey…” She whispered, wrapping Lily in a hug. She sank into the taller girl’s arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. She could almost feel Steve’s hurt gaze drilling into her back, but she refused to look at him. “Let’s get out of here before her parents come out to their car.” Dustin advised, taking a wary glance around the parking lot. 

The ride to the hospital was a silent one, with Lily leaning heavily against Robin’s shoulder. Not for the first time Lily felt as if she stood on the edge of a great precipice, and this time, there was no Eddie to pull her back. Steve stole worried glances at her in the rearview mirror, but she did her best to ignore him. Things were still awkward between them, and it was unlikely that that would ever change. 

  The hospital was larger than Lily anticipated for such a small town. Steve had barely parked the car before she was climbing out of it. “Hey, wait for us!” Steve called after her. She turned, shaking her head. “I want to go up alone.” She insisted. Steve looked like he was going to protest, but thought better of it and nodded. She disappeared into the double doors without another word. 

The lobby she entered was brightly lit and brimming with people, families waiting for news, medical personnel moving to and fro like busy worker bees. She approached the reception desk, where an exhausted looking woman peered over half-moon glasses at her. “How may I help you?” The receptionist sounded exasperated and clearly stretched to her limits. Lily managed a small smile. “I’m here to see Maxine Mayfield. I’m a friend.” She replied. The woman’s fingers flew lightly over the keys, her gaze only landing momentarily on the screen before returning to Lily. “And your name?” She asked. Lily swallowed hesitating. “Rose. Rose Munson.” The name slid off her tongue with the ease of a serpent, much too quickly for Lily to recall it. It shocked her that she could speak Eddie’s surname without choking on it. The woman didn’t seem to notice or care that she bore the last name of the man everyone was convinced was behind all this. “Third floor, room 201. Turn left as you leave the elevator.” The receptionist instructed, handing Lily a visitor’s pass. She stuck it on quickly, breathing a quick sigh of relief as she turned away and headed for the elevator.

[sergeant-spoons]

Secret Santa ‘22 (Pt 3)

Happy holidays, @rebeccapearson​​! Here is your third and final gift fic. I hope you like it! 💕

College Girl Christie

Pairing: Joe Toye x Female OC

Word count: 11,939

Tone: strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, city girl/small town boy trope; if you squint, it could be a Hallmark movie

Warnings: mentions of war trauma, PTS(D), and grief

Prompt: “It’s hard to get used to…” “What is?” “Being someone that someone cares for.”

Summary: It’s the Summer of 1945 and Winona Christie is on her way to bigger and better things at Boston College. She’s a few days into her drive when she gets stranded in a small Pennsylvania town in the dead space between Scranton and Wilkes-Barre. A friendly local takes an interest in her woes, and despite her best attempts to frighten him off, he sticks around, and before long, the shell around her bitter heart begins to crack. OR The one where Joe Toye knows what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another.

Read it here on AO3!

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

"Oh, fucking finally."

Winona Christie slumps against the side of her 1934 Ford Coupe, letting her head fall back on the roof of the old car. She's spent the last two days driving through Pennsylvania and she's sick of it. It's mid-August, for fuck's sake, she should be swimming in the community center pool back home, not roasting in a metal box without air conditioning, keeping the windows down in a last-ditch attempt to keep cool. The landscape is made up (for the most part) of fields that go on for miles, boasting various crops (predominantly corn) in the last stages of maturation or the early days of harvest. She has passed more tractors today than she has cars and seen more cows than people. Her gas tank has run low, it's almost nightfall, and her eyes are smarting from hours and hours of staring down the most uninteresting road she's ever had to drive. If it's possible to have a least favorite highway, Route 81 would be it. Now she's finally made it to a tiny gas station with an attached store the size of a suburban garage and two pumps, only one of which is in working order. There are a few teenagers smoking cigarettes around the back of the store, but otherwise, there's no one around. Nona doesn't pay the kids any mind and they, in turn, ignore her.

Nona is tired, Nona is sore, and the greater Pennsylvania commonwealth is quickly sinking to the bottom of Nona's travel list.

"Long drive?"

Scratch that. Looks like there she's going to be bothered after all.

"What? No," she says as drily as she can muster, refusing to open her eyes. "Don't you think I've had the time of my life staring at stupid fucking cornfields all day? Fucking hell."

She hopes her obvious disinterest will send the stranger on his way, but he just chuckles and stays right where he is.

"Yeah, that's Pennsylvania for you." He shuffles a step, and Nona guesses he's looking at the gas meter. "Shit, you're still going. Guess you really were driving a while."

"And I guess you don't know how to take a hint."

"A hint?"

She cracks open one eye, letting her head loll to the left, and the tart response of kindly fuck off, would you? sticks on her tongue. This is not some creep who thinks he's about to get lucky with some out-of-towner—in fact, there is nothing sinister about this young man whatsoever. His low, gravelly voice did not at all prepare her for what he looks like. He's got big dark eyes and wavy hair that he's combed neatly down to the tops of his ears, the kind of hair you want to run your fingers through to see if it's really that soft. He's leaning on a crutch, but even with it, he's seriously tall. Nona doesn't bat an eye at his empty pant leg—with the war on, she's seen plenty of young men come home missing a limb or two—and there's something in the way he tilts his head that makes her think he appreciates it. Still, he's managed to catch Nona off-guard by how he's looking at her like she's an old friend. For a moment, she wonders if she should recognize him, but he hasn't called her by name, so he probably doesn't know her. She stands up straighter, the gas pump clicks, and the stranger offers his hand to shake.

"I'm Joe," he tells her, "Joe Toye."

She can't help a small smirk, and he grins.

"Toye with an ‘e’, sweetheart," he rasps, and she squints at him.

"I'm not your 'sweetheart', Toye-with-an-'e'."

"Sorry." He flashes that grin again. "Just thought you were pretty enough to be."

He's trying to make her smile, but she won't give in. He studies her face for a moment, then lets go of her hand and goes to the pump, putting it away for her and even going so far as to screw on her filler cap.

"Still waiting to understand that hint, College Girl."

Nona has moved to sit halfway on her driver's seat, one leg dangling out of the open door as she cleans her sunglasses with the hem of her shirt. Now, she pauses and looks up.

"'College Girl'?"

"Yeah." Toye points at the baseball cap on her head. "You go to Boston College, right?"

Nona takes it off and smooths down her hair, suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious.

"Not yet," she admits. "I start my first semester next month."

"Good for you." He itches the side of his nose. "I'm not smart enough for college."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Well, fuck that."

They stare at each other. After a beat, Nona cracks a smile, and Toye touches his free hand—the one not steadying his crutch—to his cheek.

"I can't believe it," he gasps drily, "she actually smiles."

"Oh, shut up."

She swats at his arm and he drops his hand, chuckling at his own humor.

"How'd you end up here, College Girl?"

She considers whether or not to tell him the truth, or just a fraction of it, or nothing at all, but then he looks at her with that old soul kind of sympathy and she relents.

"I've been driving cross-country for the last two days," she tells him. "This is the fifth gas station I've passed in the last three hours and I almost ran out of gas because I couldn't stop at the other four."

"No?"

"The first one was out of order, the only person around at the second one was this old guy who was already leering at me before I pulled up to the pump, so I just kept driving, then the third one was also out of order, and the last one a couple of miles back looked like something left over after the Blitz. Seriously. And no way in hell was I stopping there around dusk, so I kept going, and now I'm here, at the only gas station in working order in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. And to top it all off, the sun's setting, which means I'm stuck here overnight." Defeated, Nona throws her hands up toward the cloudy, slowly darkening sky. "So fuck me, I guess."

Toye's eyes widen just a little. As he bends his mouth in an upside-down smile, he leans against Nona's coupe, trying to strike a nonchalant pose.

"Sure thing," he teases, glancing her up and down, "but how about I buy you dinner first-"

She hits him on the shoulder, and though he teeters a little, he snorts a laugh.

"No, but really," he says, dropping the suave act, "that's some really shitty luck that landed you here."

"Where is here, even?" 

It's the question Nona's been reluctant to ask, but Toye doesn't even bat an eye.

"Hughestown, Pennsylvania." He looks down the road into town as if he can see the Atlantic Ocean from where he's standing. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you've still got a few hours to go 'til you hit New York—and that's just the state, not the city."

"Fuck." She leans against the car and groans long and hard. "Fuuuuck. Shit."

"You know, you swear a lot."

"And you-" She waves at nothing. "You don't shut up a lot."

"Uh-huh. Real quick. Sharpest comeback in the West."

She glares at him.

"Sorry. Sharpest comeback in the East."

Nona can't help a sigh. He's having too much fun with this conversation. She is not. Still, she might as well make some good use of his goodwill and try to find out where she can stay for the night. When she asks, he takes a moment to consider, and she thinks he might answer her seriously this time.

"You could stay with me."

"Yeah, no." Nona blinks at him. "You do realize we're still strangers, right? I don't know you."

Toye, flushing slightly, coughs, choking on his own discomfiture.

"Right, you don't know me," he repeats, and she's willing to bet the way he scratches behind his ear is a nervous habit. "I didn't mean to... Well. Sorry."

Despite herself, Nona hesitates, a little afraid she might not have any better options. Then he nods down the road and tells her there's a motel just ten minutes down the road that's always got a few rooms to spare, and she relaxes.

"We don't get many travelers through here," he adds, and Nona snorts.

"Well, shit, I wonder why."

It slips out without her thinking. Nona's face starts to flush, but Toye snorts a laugh, unoffended.

"Yeah, yeah. Not much to see around here, I get it." He pats the hood of her coupe and—finally—starts to step away, a bit slowly due to his crutch. "Good luck, College Girl."

Nona's almost sorry to see him go. Almost.

"Thanks... Joe."

He's got the hint of a smile on his lips as he turns away, and just like that, he's gone. She expects she'll never see him again. Not that she minds. He was nice enough, but she's got real things to worry about, like getting to Boston and starting college and having her whole life ahead of her, not kind-of-sweet, kind-of-snarky small-town boys from Hughestown, Pennsylvania. It starts sprinkling as Nona pulls out of the gas station, and by the time she gets to the motel, that drizzle has turned to buckets and buckets. She braces herself, then steps out into the downpour and gasps—it's cold, not warm like she'd anticipated. She forces the trunk with the broken lock open and yanks out her traveling suitcase, nearly wrenching her shoulder in her haste. Racing into the lobby, she gasps in a few breaths as her adrenaline fades, grateful for the stuffy, uncomfortably dry air of the indoors. The attendant at the desk doesn't look at Nona even when she comes right up to him, and she realizes he's asleep in his chair. She rings the bell and that does nothing, so she kicks the desk and he wakes with a start. He sleepily checks her in and gives her a key, and when she asks where her room is, he has the gall to point all the way across the parking lot.

Great. Just fantastic. Now she's got to go back out there in the deluge—but at least she'll have a ceiling over her head once she gets there.

Wrong again.

As soon as Nona tries the key in the lock, she can tell it's not going to fit. She wiggles it around a bit, then—after glancing around to make sure there's not a soul around, and there really isn't—attempts to shoulder the door open. It's flimsy enough that she could probably kick it in, but that would be a bad idea on so many counts, so she grits her teeth and turns over her shoulder to look back at the single light coming through the lobby window. She's not about to leave all of her things here in the dark and the rain for anyone to grab, so yet again, she hauls her suitcase all the way back across the parking lot, growing more agitated with every sopping step. At this point, she's drenched down to the bones, and the sound of her shoes squelching across the shitty carpet wakes the attendant from where he's been dozing off again. He looks confused when she tells him the key isn't working, then takes it and tells her almost immediately that it's the wrong key, not even batting an eye at his own mistake. Nona just barely manages not to cuss him out, mutters her thanks for the right key through gritted teeth, and traverses the parking lot one last resentful time.

The room is lackluster at best, but Nona wasn't all that optimistic, to begin with. As soon as the door is shut and locked behind her and all the shades are drawn on the windows, she hurls the suitcase onto the floor in the corner and strips off her sopping clothes. She rings them out over the sink and hangs them on the towel rack to dry, but now she's shivering, so she wraps herself in a scratchy towel and starts the shower. No matter how long she runs the water, it only gets lukewarm. She should have expected as much. Still, she steps in despite her mumbled curses and feels a little better once she's washed all the grime of the day away. It takes her a bit to brush all the tangles out of her hair, but by then, she's calmed down quite a bit and is starting to realize just how tired she is. So she goes to lie down, but the bed is lumpy as can be, and she gets up again almost immediately. In a last-ditch attempt, she grabs a paperback romance missing its cover off the meagerly-stocked bookshelf and curls up on the surprisingly-comfortable armchair. From page one, she can tell it's going to be a terrible book—the kind even her soft-spoken mother would call 'trashy'—but it fits the bill for her lousy day, so she keeps reading until she's bored asleep.

When Nona wakes up the next morning, she's got so many aches and spots of soreness that she's not sure she can even move. She manages to after a time, and when she goes into the bathroom, the light switch has stopped working. Thankfully, there's a small window above the shower that lets in enough daylight for her to see, for the most part. Once her eyes adjust, she brushes her teeth, combs her hair, and gathers up her clothes, which are still damp but no longer drenched. She knows they'll start to smell musty if she stuffs them into the suitcase like they are, and then all of her clothes will smell, so she decides to drape them over the passenger seat in the coupe and let the sun dry them through the windshield as she drives. Once she's dressed, she takes the key back to the lobby, and the same yawning attendant from last night wishes her happy travels. Oh, if he only knew...

Shaking her head to herself, Nona dumps her suitcase in the trunk of the coupe and gets into the driver's seat. She adjusts her rearview mirror, checks that she's still got her map in the glove compartment, and turns the key in the ignition.

Except, the car doesn't start.

"No, no, no, no, no-"

She tries again, then a third time, and by the tenth, she slumps forward, defeated. Her forehead hits the horn on the steering wheel, and when it blares, she groans right along with it. No one comes out to complain, not even the attendant, so she just sits like that for a minute and groans into the wheel. This is what she gets, isn't it? Maybe she should have been nicer to that Joe Toye at the gas station. He was a looker, wasn't he? Doesn't matter now. No one can help her now that the coupe's run its course. She should have known better than to keep holding on, but all three of her brothers drove this car before her, and she's been hard-pressed to trade it in for a newer model. She wishes she could say the age of the coupe is no big deal, that nine years isn't that old for a car, but that kind of thinking is exactly what has landed her stuck in a motel parking lot, turning a key that won't catch and listening to the car sputter and groan like an old man refusing to wake up from a nap in his best recliner.

And then someone comes up and raps on her window, and when she looks up, she can't tell if it's a blessing or a curse that Joe Toye has found her in dire straits yet again.

"Morning, College Girl."

Though his voice is muffled, Nona can read the words on his lips. She furiously cranks down the window, gaping at first and then glaring.

"You again!"

"Me again."

He gestures with such half-hearted bravado that it makes Nona want to snort with incredulity instead of laughter.

"Of course, you just have to show up like this. Again." She narrows her eyes at him. "Are you following me?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

He holds up a box of donuts, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a busy bakery across the street. "Getting breakfast for me and the old man. Want a donut?"

"No, I don't want a donut!"

He shoots her a disbelieving look and she, frustrated to the breaking point, slaps her steering wheel.

"I just want to get the fuck out of here!"

"Something wrong?"

"Well, I'm still here talking to you, aren't I?"

He seems either unphased or amused by her outrage, and Nona isn't sure which is more infuriating. Taking a bite out of a plain-looking donut, he scans her dashboard display.

"Is it your car?" he asks through a doughy mouthful. "That something's wrong with, I mean."

"Yes, it's my car!" she shouts, and a single frustrated blink later, she finds a donut in her hand. "What the hell...?"

"It's an old-fashioned. Best kind, in my opinion." He gestures with his own breakfast treat. "C'mon, eat."

Nona is at a loss, staring at the donut, torn between stewing in her misery and taking the appeasement he's offered. Toye adjusts how he's standing on his crutch, one hand on the windowsill while the other balances the donut box, and studies the hood as if he can see the issue with it still shut.

"What's wrong with the car?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me!"

He comes back to the window but withdraws his hand. He looks like he wants to be hurt but is choosing to be amused instead. Nona manages to keep her glare going for a good three seconds more before she drops her chin and takes a reluctant bite of the donut. It tastes better than she expects, and better yet, her nibbling seems to have appeased Toye.

"I'm sorry," Nona says at last. "I didn't really think you would've tried anything malicious."

"Malicious, huh? Big word."

She shoots him a look, but there isn't much oomph behind it, and he doesn't bother to react.

"Look," Nona sighs, utterly defeated, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm at the end of my wire, but it's not like it's your fault."

There's a smile creeping back onto Toye's lips, and Nona, for a reason she can't place, is relieved.

"Hey, no sweat. I get it."

She frowns lightly at him, skeptical, already halfway through the donut. She is hungry, despite her earlier protests, and Toye is wise enough not to comment on her change of heart.

"You've been in this situation before?" she asks him.

"What, the almost running out of gas, the storm last night, and the oldest car I've ever seen finally throwing in the towel?"

There is something about having her misfortunes listed out like this that makes them seem less abominable, and Nona softens a little.

"Yeah, that."

"No," Toye admits, "but I know what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another."

"Yeah?"

His gaze drops toward the pavement, and Nona doesn't have to look to know he's looking at his missing leg.

"Yeah."

Feeling a bit guilty, Nona twists in her seat to face him. He grasps the car door with his broad hands and leans down to look at her, his strong arms filling up half the window frame. When he leans his chin on his hands, looking up slightly to meet Nona's eye, she wonders for an instant how she ever could have thought him a scamp.

"So?"

"So? So what?"

"So you live around here, right?"

He nods.

"You know who I should call for a tow?"

His smile begins to grow, pushing up his cheeks. The dimples it reveals make Nona want to smile, too.

"I think your luck just might be turning around, sweetheart, 'cause you've just befriended the best handyman 'bumfuck nowhere' has to offer."

Nona's cheeks heat up. So he did catch that, last night. Her embarrassment must show on her face, for Toye snickers. When she squints at him half-heartedly, that snicker becomes a laugh.

"We've got Scranton to the northeast and Wilkes-Barre to the southwest," he chuckles, standing up straight, "and you still think we're in the middle of nowhere?"

Although there seems to be nothing but cornfields and tired old streets as far as the eye can see, Nona shrugs and holds her tongue.

"You said you're a handyman," she points out, "that doesn't necessarily mean you're a mechanic."

Toye scoffs. "What good's a handyman if he doesn't know how to work a car?" 

Seeing Nona's disbelief has persisted, Toye pouts at her, and she almost feels bad. Almost.

"Really, what else am I supposed to do around here? I get a job fixing someone's busted AC one week and then changing a lightbulb or two for some old lady the next—if the ceiling's low enough that I don't need a ladder. Work comes slow around here for a guy like me."

They both know he doesn't want her to question the 'guy like me' bit, so she skips over it and remarks instead, "So you are a mechanic."

"Yeah, I work part-time at the auto shop down the road. Give me fifteen, I'll drive my pickup back and bring the tow truck to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious!" He looks almost offended again. "I'm not gonna leave a pretty girl such as yourself stranded—and if that look you're giving me means anything, I should probably remind you that it is, in fact, my actual paying job to help you."

Nona sighs and tugs her key out of the ignition. "Alright. Well, thank you."

"Like I said, of course."

He tips his head at her, then turns and saunters away toward his truck, wobbling a little with the quickness of his pace. Nona frowns.

"You're going to trip."

He ducks his head, and she can already tell there's a grin splitting across his face without having to see it.

"Aww," he calls over his shoulder, "you do care."

Nona fights back a smile and then resists the opposing urge to flip him off. 

"Are you going to get that tow truck or what?"

He waves off her concern, tugging open the door to his pickup, and Nona grumbles empty complaints as she sinks back into her seat. She doesn't realize she's still staring at Toye until he waves and shoots her a smirk. Pretending she hasn't seen, she turns and starts rifling through her glove compartment as if she might find something to captivate her attention there. She doesn't find much there other than a few sticks of gum, two expired ration slips for white sugar (for a cake that the birthday boy never came home for), and two brand-name chapsticks that have melted gruesomely in the heat. She grabs the map off the passenger seat and occupies herself figuring out how to fold it back up. This takes her a few minutes, and by the time she looks up, Toye is far gone down the road behind her, a dark, shimmering speck in her side mirror. In the dashboard console, she finds a packet of Lucky Strikes that her father left there absentmindedly and takes one of the two left. Her lighter is at the bottom of her purse, and by the time she finds it, she no longer wants to smoke. She's just sitting back up (from where she'd bent over her purse) when someone honks their horn. She hits her head on the headrest, and as the cigarette falls into her lap, she swears loudly. Twisting to lean out her window, she readies a snappy word or two only to find Toye grinning at the wheel of a battered tow truck idling behind her.

"I'm back," he calls unnecessarily, and despite Nona's feigned disapproval of the man, she grabs her purse and gets out of the coupe.

Toye hooks up the car and Nona helps a little, then follows his direction to hop in the passenger seat of the tow truck. If he tries anything—which, at this point, she doubts—she's got a solid punch, and the brass knuckles in her purse (just in case) are never far from reach.

"You can drive?" she questions as he opens the driver's side door, then feels incredibly stupid and insensitive for having asked.

 "I only need one foot—the clutch is up here on the wheel."

He taps the steering to show her, then hauls himself up—it suddenly makes sense to Nona why his arms are so buff—and settles in behind the wheel. There's a second, smaller seatbelt affixed to the side of his chair, and she watches curiously as he latches it over the stump of his leg.

"Keeps me balanced," he says when he catches her looking.

"It's a good idea," she replies, seeming to surprise him. "I know a lot of people who'd get a lot of use out of something like that."

Something in his gaze has shifted when he looks back at her, something tenderer than she deserves, and she turns away. He doesn't speak as he maneuvers them out of the parking lot. She's glad for the silence until it lasts too long and she realizes with a start that she misses the sound of his husky voice. He catches her jolt and eyes her for a beat, then opens his mouth.

"So... where to?"

She squints at him. “The auto shop.”

“No, no, I mean-” He waves vaguely. “Where are you going once you get outta Hughestown?”

Nona huffs, reticent.

"You know where I'm going, Joe."

He shrugs, a small smile creeping upon his lips as they both realize she's just called him 'Joe'.

"Just trying to make conversation."

They pass a minute or two in silence. Then:

"See any good scenery on your drive so far?"

She shoots him a skeptical look, and he raises his brow at her, awaiting an answer.

"Cornfield after cornfield after fucking cornfield. And then, oh, what's that?" She gestures out the open window. "Soybeans! And not two minutes later: fuck, it's another cornfield."

Toye's laughing, and there's something about the sound that makes Nona—who usually knows when to let a joke end—keep going.

"I've seen more corn in the last three days than I've seen in my entire life—more than I'll ever need to see again!"

"The western half of the state does have a lot of corn, I’ll give you that."

"Holy hell, talk about the understatement of the century."

She throws her hands up, but she's mostly playing her exasperation up to get him to laugh again, and though she's pretty sure he knows it, he plays along.

"So, what, you came up through West Virginia?"

"Ohio."

He hums a note of recognition. "Alright, Ohio. Then straight into Pennsylvania?"

"Yeah, straight into Pennsylvania, which was, to be frank, a fucking mistake."

He snorts a laugh, and there's a twinkle in his eye that Nona finds hard to look away from. "Oh, so you're Frank? I didn't know that was your name."

"It's not, and you know it," she chides him, making a face, but he doesn't tease her like she's expecting him to—in fact, he says nothing. He glances over at her, both hands still firm on the steering wheel, and does it a second time before he speaks.

"Actually," he reminds her carefully, "I don't know that."

"Oh." Nona blinks. "Wait—so you came to help me, a total stranger, out of the unfathomable goodness of your heart, who's cussed you out multiple times, and you don't even care that I haven't told you my name?"

"I never said I didn't care." He tilts his head to the right, then the left. "It would be nice to have a name to call you by, not just 'College Girl'."

Nona's still stuck on the fact that he's helping her just because he can. It feels weird. She's not so sure she's able to believe it, even if she wants to.

"What makes you think you can trust me?" she goads. "That I'm not gonna- I dunno, rob you of all that you own?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "Your smile."

This baffles her even further. "My what?"

"Your smile," he repeats, turning on his blinker and leaning forward slightly to see around an overgrown bush. "You don't smile much—or, at least, not around me—but when you do, it's like, uh..." He drums his fingers on the wheel, trying to think of the right depiction. "Like when the sun rises after a stormy night. It's... reassuring."

Nona isn't quite sure what to say to that. They pull up to a four-way stop and Toye puts the truck into park. He looks at her and she realizes he's not going to go on without her telling him her name. She feels silly for having withheld it so long, and in an attempt to make amends, she reaches across the dashboard console and insistently takes his hand to shake.

"I'm Winona," she tells him at last. "Winona Christie."

He gives a low whistle. "Like Agatha, right? I like her books. Good mysteries. I borrow them from the library sometimes."

"We're unrelated, sorry to disappoint."

He shrugs. "Not disappointed." A beat. "Winona."

"Oh, no," she quickly insists, "call me Nona."

When he grins at the green traffic light ahead of them, she expects he would be turning that smile upon her were he not focused on completing a U-turn.

"Nona," he muses. "I like it. Nona. Short and sweet." A slight smirk. "Like you."

"Uh-huh."

He quirks a brow at her. "Jeez. Tough crowd."

She shoots him a look, and he lifts one hand off the steering wheel to plead his defense.

"Alright, you win. Look—we're here."

They passed by the auto shop about half a minute ago, and Nona was wondering why until Toye made the U-turn. She sees now that there is no way to get to the shop from the other side of the street, as there is a raised concrete divider smack in the middle despite the road being one lane in either direction.

"Fucking Pennsylvania," she gripes as she gets out of the truck. "Can't build a goddamn road without something wrong with it."

"Now that," Toye says, unbuckling his two seat belts, "I can agree with."

It takes him a minute longer than Nona to get on his feet, but she doesn't say anything about it, and neither does he. He's shutting the driver's side door when an older gentleman in overalls and a button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows comes out of the auto shop. He looks a bit like Santa Claus, with his cheeks all red and his nose big and round. His name is Mr. O'Connery, and as he eats three donuts in a row without ceasing to talk (even more of an impressive feat considering that he's talking coherently), he tells her that he's got a daughter who's a nurse who looks an awful lot like her. She's in Australia, and Nona is here. She feels a little small for a moment, a little useless, and then Joe interrupts and points out the coupe on the back of the tow truck, and Mr. O'Connery is off like a shot. They haul it down and push it into the shop as Nona watches, chewing nervously on her lower lip. They're careful with the old dear, though, and get it into position without a scratch. As Mr. O'Connery eagerly pops the hood, Joe sidles up to Nona and tells her not to mind the old mechanic's chatter—he'll be bragging about his children until the day he dies.

"And that includes you, Joe," Mr. O'Connery adds, overhearing, and when Nona looks at Joe in surprise, she finds him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"In a lot of ways," he tells her, "the old man's another father to me."

Marveling at how old the coupe is (though Nona would beg to differ), Mr. O'Connery calls Joe over to have a look inside the hood, and Nona amuses herself by wandering around the shop. For the most part, the visible walls are covered in various tools and places to hang other equipment, but there's a spot about three-quarters of the way to the back where the only thing from floor to ceiling is a landscape painting the size of a small windowpane. Nona gets up close to look at it, and as she admires the water lilies floating on an unknown pond, she can hear Toye's crutch-step, crutch-step pace coming up behind her. He settles at her side and she points at the painting, her curiosity authentic.

"What's this?"

"It's a painting."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Toye thinks for a moment, then looks at her with a smile, endeared that she's harkening back to his enjoyment of mysteries. Feeling a bit warm in the face, Nona turns back to the painting and gestures at it vaguely.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Paris." He studies the canvas. "Bought it off a street artist 'cause I thought it kinda looked like a Monet."

"Oh, yeah." She tilts her head. "It kinda does."

She's being genuine, and when she straightens up, she sees he's looking at her again. She huffs and steps back, smoothing her hands down her skirt.

"You do that a lot, you know."

"Do what?"

"Stare at me."

Toye snorts. "No, I don't."

"Liar," chuckles Mr. O'Connery as he ambles on over. "Yes, you do."

He holds out his fist and Nona bumps it with her own. Toye groans.

"So?" Nona asks, pretending not to notice how Toye's gone right back to staring at her. "What's the verdict?"

The old man looks at Toye, then at her.

"I think I'm gonna need a few more hours to figure it out."

Nona sighs, and he grimaces sympathetically, slinging a greasy rag over his shoulder.

"Come back around, say, five in the afternoon, and I'll let you know what I can do." He turns to Toye. "Hey, Joe, be a gentleman and take the lady to the diner, yeah? Bet she's starving."

"Are you?" Toye looks worriedly at Nona. "Hey, did you have dinner last night? I know they don't serve food at the motel..."

Nona glances aside. "Maybe."

"So that's a no." He gives her a meaningful look, then starts toward the door, beckoning her after him. "Come on. One donut isn't enough to sustain you for a day—even if it is an old-fashioned."

The diner is mostly empty by the time they get there. Nona supposes that's because it's too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but she has a sneaking suspicion that the place doesn't hit full capacity even during rush hour. Maybe it's just because the town isn't that big and is full of working people who can't afford to eat out every day of the week. Nona's hesitant to order a full meal, but Toye raves about the steak and cheese until she gives in, and when it arrives, it blows her expectations out of the water.

"You didn't do this justice," she mumbles around a heavenly bite. "This thing-" She points at the sandwich. "-is incredible."

"Right?" He points at the pink delight sitting by her elbow, so far undisturbed. "Try the milkshake."

She does and slumps back in her seat, blissful. Toye takes a sip of his own milkshake and hums a note of appreciation.

"Good, right?"

"I love this place." Nona looks around, her mood drastically improved now that she's got some food in her. "I never want to leave."

Toye laughs. "Because of the company, or...?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she replies, but she's teasing, and it only makes his smile grow.

"I think you like me, after all," he says, trying to steal a fry off her plate and wincing when she swats his hand away. "Hey! Yours are hotter than mine."

"Yeah." She nibbles at her fries, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That’s ‘cause they're mine."

Toye snickers. "Don't flatter yourself."

With a gasp, she pretends to be offended and throws a fry at his face. He moves his head quicker than she's expecting though and catches it with his teeth.

"Show-off," she grumbles, and he chuckles as he munches away.

"So, College Girl," he says, "tell me about yourself."

"Really? We're doing this, now?"

"Why not?" He dabs at his lip with a napkin. "We're just wasting time until five o'clock."

He's right, so she answers him in full. She's on her way to college, which he already knew, and she's driving there alone because her folks can't travel well, her father with his knee, and her mother with her back. When she mentions that she's from Columbus, Ohio, he perks up.

"I knew a guy in the service from there," he says. "Johnny Martin. You knew him?"

"Johnny Martin who always looks angry unless he's smiling? Johnny Martin who's married to my neighbor Pat? That Johnny Martin?"

Toye's nodding grows more excited the more she speaks. "Yeah!" he agrees almost incredulously. "That Johnny Martin!"

They share a laugh.

"Small world."

"Yeah, small world." He considers, glancing up at the ceiling. "I got a letter from him last week, actually."

This news—that Johnny Martin, who Nona knows only by proxy of Pat—cheers Nona up far more than she would have expected. She beams at Toye and he pauses with the last of his sandwich halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just- it's good to hear that. Really. So where's he at?"

Toye's smiling again, and Nona gets the feeling he likes her more now. "Couldn't say. Censors and all that. But he said it's green and warm and they've got a lake to swim in, so my bet's on France or Austria."

"Ooh, a lake," Nona muses, a tad jealous considering the sweltering heat of the last few days. "And if it's in Austria, it's probably somewhere up in the mountains."

Toye nods. "If it's a vacation they've got, they've more than earned it."

"No doubt about it," she agrees, meaning it wholeheartedly, and his smile broadens.

"Mhm."

After a beat, he leans forward a little, putting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand.

"So what else? About you."

After she graduated high school, Nona took a gap year in order to save up money for her secondary education. She'd expected to take a four-year working hiatus, but then several sums of painfully-won money came into her family's possession—she's not ready yet to tell him how, and he doesn't ask—and she was able to go this year instead of '48.

"Why Boston?"

"I got in," she answers with a shrug. "It was either that or Ohio State..."

And Ohio State was where my brothers would have gone.

"And Ohio State was too close to home."

It's the truth, but it's not the whole truth, and though he seems to realize that, Toye doesn't mention it.

"So, I'm going to BC. I started the drive to Boston on Tuesday-" Three days ago, including today. "-and now I'm here. And you know the rest."

"Good for you." He points with a fry. "About, uh, 'BC', I mean. Whole world's your oyster now."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're gonna have a college degree in, what? Four years? Two? A Bachelor's or an Associate's in whatever." He shrugs, munching on the fry as well as several of its brethren. "Pretty much everyone's lookin' for one of those these days. Can't get hired for much more than the kind of work I do—work with my hands—without one."

"That's not true," she says without really believing herself, and Toye shoots her a skeptical look.

"Trust me, sweetheart. Times are changing. Soon there's not gonna be much room left for stupid guys like me."

"You're not stupid, Joe," she argues. "You read Agatha Christie mysteries, for one, you bought a street artist's painting in Paris because you knew it looked like a Monet, for two, and for third, I suspect you've looked into this whole college thing for yourself, or you wouldn't know the difference between a Bachelor's and an Associate's degree."

Nona realizes she's glaring at him and quickly blinks away the expression, leaning back as she hopes she hasn't made this strange friendship of theirs any more awkward.

"Well." She crosses her arms. "So there."

He stares at her for a moment longer, then puts his milkshake down and crosses his arms on the table.

"My Dad made me drop outta school when I was fifteen," he reveals quietly. "I had to go work in the coal mines so my brothers and sisters could eat."

Nona's face suddenly feels hot with anger—not at Toye, but at what he had to go through. Her family has never been well-off, especially not during the Depression, but she never had to drop out of school to work. No child should have to do that. And for the coal mines? Jesus Christ Almighty.

Nona doesn’t realize she's been mumbling most of her sentiments aloud until Toye grimaces and tilts his head back and forth.

"Yeah. Well, they can eat now, without my help. But hey, at least it wasn't war." He chuckles grimly. "That came a few years down the road."

Nona looks down at her plate and pokes at her fries. She's not hungry anymore. When she offers them to Toye, he makes a face and apologizes for bringing the mood down. She hesitates a beat, then asks if he'll allow her to sink it to the floor.

"Go ahead."

"My brothers are dead. All three of them."

She looks out the window. She hasn't cried in months, and it's strange to think she might start now.

"It happened over the last few months. First Patrick, then Don—Donaghue—and finally Michael."

Toye is silent for a long moment.

"So you've got an Irish family?"

While they've been sitting here, dark clouds have rolled in, threatening more rain. She can see her companion's reflection in the glass of the window. He doesn't look all that concerned. In fact, he looks like he's spent a long time talking about Death—as it stands, he's probably narrowly missed meeting the man himself—and he knows how to do it well.

"Yeah," she answers softly, knowing she's waited too long for her reply to make sense, but he gets it right away.

"Me too."

He ends up taking her fries, then leans back and nudges her foot under the table with his own, nearly losing his balance in the process. He's been too kind to Nona for her to mention it, even in teasing, and she nods, allowing him to say whatever it is he wants to.

"I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Why you're so bitter."

She balks, but he shakes his head, drumming his fingers on the table.

"No, really, I get it. I was pretty bitter too when I first got back."

She glances at the crutch leaning against the side of their booth, and he nods.

"Happened last January. You ever heard of the Bois Jacques?"

"No."

"Nobody does. Not unless you live there—or General Eisenhower boots your ass to the middle of the fuckin' woods." He leans over the table, and though he tries to hide it, Nona notices his shiver. "Like I said, it was January."

"Brrr."

Just then, thunder rumbles, and the lights in the diner flicker. Toye winces and Nona instinctively reaches across the table to touch his hand. He stares at her fingers covering his, and just as she's about to draw them back, he turns his hand over and takes hers to hold.

"You wanna get outta here?" he asks, still studying her hand as if trying to put it to memory.

"And into that?" She frowns at the rain starting to pelt the windows. "No fucking thank you."

So they stay at the diner for another two hours until the weather lightens up, and by then, they're so deep in conversation that neither wants to leave. It's not like Nona's got anything to do all afternoon other than stick with Joe. But maybe she shouldn't phrase it that way—after all, she's really starting to like him. So when he offers to take her back to his place, telling her it'll be quieter and that he's got a pitcher of fresh iced tea in the fridge from his mother, she accepts. At the stop sign just around the corner from his house, he pulls to a stop even though there's not another car in sight. She half suspects he's being warier as a driver now that he's got her in the passenger seat. She appreciates it, even if she wouldn't tell him so. They end up sitting at his kitchen counter, sipping iced tea so bitter it makes their lips pucker and talking about everything under the summer sun. When her watch finally indicates it's a quarter to five, she almost doesn't notice, but Joe does, and he gets her to the auto shop right on time.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," is what Mr. O'Connery greets them with, and when Nona's shoulders slump, she catches Joe about to wrap his arm around her in a side hug. She wishes he would, but he drops his hand instead and clears his throat roughly.

"What bad news?"

"I'm gonna need more than a couple o' days to fix this old puppy up." He looks back over his shoulder as he puts his hands on his hips and rocks on his heels. "Shouldn't be too long, less than a week, but, uh... You're stuck with us until then, kid."

"I kinda figured as much," Nona sighs, already picturing another night in that miserable motel, but then Toye pokes her arm and she remembers she's got a friend to fall back on now.

"I know you called me a creep last time I offered, but, uh, I do have a spare bedroom..."

To her surprise just as much as his, Nona turns and hugs him in a burst of gratitude. It's brief, but it's still something, and when she steps back, she sees he's blushing.

"Sure, yeah.” She glances aside, not sure if she should be embarrassed or endeared at his pink cheeks. "And, uh, Joe—thank you."

She ends up staying with him for a week and a half. It's longer than she thought, and she keeps having to make calls to her landlord out in Boston to update her on the situation. She's not very happy at the delay, but she's forgiving enough, knowing that there's nothing Nona can do about it. She calls her folks, too, and though her father thinks it's just the funniest thing that the old coupe finally broke down, her mother starts sobbing, and they have to hang up. It's jarring and raw and Nona freezes with the receiver still in her hand until Joe comes up to her and gently hangs it back up. He holds out a deck of cards and distracts her with canasta for the next hour until the iciness in her chest has abated and she can take a full, deep breath again.

She's not sure when she started, but she's taken to calling him 'Joe', addressing him by name much more regularly than she did before she moved in. He gets a twinkle in his eye whenever she does. He still calls her 'sweetheart', but she knows if she told him to stop, he would. Strangely, she doesn't him want to. Only sometimes does he address his teasing to 'Nona', and when he does, she gets a little flutter in her chest. It's just her name, what everyone calls her, but there's just something about his voice, something about him...

A week in, she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, her hands shaking as she clutches the sink, and swears she's not falling in love with him.

She goes down the hall and discovers the pleasant smells coming from the kitchen are him making breakfast for her. It's almost done, he says, knowing it's her without having to check, pull up a chair. The second she sits down, he serves up two fried eggs, a slice of bacon, and four triangles of toast, and she stares at it for a moment, her heart thudding in circles around her chest. That first day in the diner, he was asking her all sorts of things she thought were silly, like how she liked her eggs in the morning. She told him rather flippantly, but he's remembered nonetheless. He keeps stealing glances at her from over at the stove like he wants to know what she thinks, so she takes a bite and smiles at him. When he beams right back, his whole face lights up, and she knows she's done for.

He takes her all over town during that week and a half. She can tell it's not easy on his arm and his leg to be walking around with his crutch all the time, but she knows he would hate her worrying over him, so she says nothing, just walks a little slower than she usually would and then speeds up to open doors for him before he can ask. He drives them everywhere, and though Nona has offered once or twice to sit behind the wheel, he says he likes driving. It's one of the few things he can still do almost exactly the same as before. He brings her to a different place every day. First, it's the diner, then the library, then the park, then the movie theater... If Nona didn't know any better, she'd think he was trying to squeeze six months' worth of dates out of ten days. But he's just her friend, and 'date' is not a word they could ever use to describe these outings with just the two of them looking at each other too long. He's just her friend, just for now while she's stuck here in Hughestown, and even if that makes her sad to think about, she'd never tell him. If she did, she's certain he'd look at her with those sad, soulful eyes, and she'd tell him how she's falling, harder and faster than she's ever fallen before, and how she knows he's going to break her heart when she leaves, and that's why she's so sad. Not because she'll miss a new friend, but because she's leaving a piece of her heart here, whether she likes it or not.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

It's been nine days and Nona is still in Hughestown. She's sitting with Joe in their usual booth at the diner, and for a change, she's the one staring at him. She ducks her head and twirls her straw in her milkshake, taking a slow sip as if it will hide her from his curiosity. It does not.

"No reason," she mumbles, and he snorts a laugh.

"Uh-huh. I definitely believe that."

When she looks up, he smiles encouragingly, like he wants to hear what she has to say. She's still getting used to that. Even with her folks, she doesn't really have that kind of open ear. Not that she doesn't love them, she does... They were just always more attentive to her brothers. Now that she's the only one left, it isn't much different. Maybe it's just that they're all still grieving. Yeah, that's got to be it.

Nona's chipped heart won't let her believe otherwise.

"It’s just... It's hard to get used to," she admits aloud, then goes quiet, not sure she's got the courage to tell him the rest.

 "What is?"

He pokes the side of her hand, looking a little worried that he's done something wrong, and that just won't do, so she tells him the truth:

"Being someone that someone cares for."

He softens, taking her hand to hold.

"Of course, I care about you." His smile tugs up at the corners. "I need somebody to help me pay the rent, and I've been thinking maybe you could stick around-"

It's exactly the kind of joke she needs to hear, and she grabs her hand back, laughing and scolding him for his beautiful, thoughtful insensitivity.

"What do you think of Boston?" she teases him, actually a little curious as to what he'll say. "Or is that too big of a city for small-town Joe Toye?"

"Depends on how high the rent is." He leans his chin in his hands and drums his fingers against his cheeks. "I'll consider it."

It's the closest they ever get to the stay with me? they both know better than to ask.

Nona made Joe take her on routine visits to the auto shop for the first few days, but then Mr. O'Connery told them not to bother and that he'll call Joe's home phone when the coupe is ready to go. Still, they drive past the building sometimes on their way to the diner. The traffic light outside the shop is always green. Nona has decided it must be broken. Either that or she and Joe have impeccable timing. On the tenth day, the stoplight is red, and Joe puts his blinker on to make the U-turn. Now that she thinks about it, he's been antsy all morning. Is her car fixed? Now she's the antsy one as they pull into the parking lot. Mr. O'Connery is already on his way out of the garage, and why he looks a little grumpy, Nona couldn't say.

"Here we go," Joe mumbles as he climbs out of the pickup, and Nona doesn't get the chance to ask him what that's supposed to mean before the old mechanic is upon them.

"I know you like her," he says to Joe, thumbing at Nona, "but that coupe's been taking up space in my garage for the last ten days."

"I'm sorry," Nona says, reasonably shamed, "I had no idea the problem was that bad."

"That bad?" Mr. O'Connery blinks at her. "You needed a few engine parts replaced, but that only took me a few days." He points at Joe. "I called this fool nights ago and he said you'd be around to pick it up in the morning."

Nona gapes at him for a moment, then whirls on Joe, who looks incredibly guilty. When he sees how upset she is, he starts to harden, hiding his hurt behind a set jaw and a stern brow. That just makes her feel worse. He's never closed himself off to her before, and she's certainly not about to let him now. She marches right up to him and crosses her arms, bending her neck to try and catch his gaze. Those dark eyes of his that she's come to adore, that now look anywhere but at her, dart away, ashamed, and her heart twists into something ugly in her chest. She thought she could rely on him, her one friend in this lonely town. Evidently, she can't.

"Joe. Joe."

He finally forces himself to look at her, blinking hard, and she's not even sure what to say until he licks his lips and she looks at them, and her splintered heart cracks even further.

"What the hell?" She throws up her hands. "Seriously, Joe, what. The. Hell. What the fuck!"

"I'm sorry."

She scoffs. Just a few minutes ago, she would have believed anything he said. Not anymore.

"No, you're not."

Turning on her heel, she starts to march away, heading for her car and the open road, the only two things she knows she can trust right now.

"Nona."

She ignores him, and then he starts to come after her, and then he falls, and the sound of him hitting the pavement is ten times worse than her heartbreak. She goes to him at once and helps him off the ground, and when he looks at her, it’s the first time she’s ever seen him scared.

"I'm leaving now," she tells him, but then Mr. O'Connery clears his throat, and Nona gets the sinking feeling that she's going to be stuck here for a little longer.

"You can't take it yet," he says a bit awkwardly, tugging at the straps of his overalls. "I still have to tow it up to the gas station... I had to make sure you were actually coming to get it before I filled up the tank." He sucks on his upper teeth and tilts his head back to look at the grey-blue sky. "Come back in, say, an hour and she'll be good to go."

"Can't I just come with you?" Nona starts to ask, but then the pickup starts behind her and she remembers all of her things are back at Joe's place. "Shit. Nevermind."

"Hey-" Mr. O'Connery wags his finger at her, and she nearly slaps his hand down in a flash of ire. "-he didn't mean anything by it."

"How do you know?" she snaps, and he squints at her, meeting her bitterness head-on. She can see where Joe gets it from.

"I've seen the way that boy looks at you." He shakes his head soberly. "Don't you lose him to something like your pride."

She stalks away without responding, but she does call a weary thank you over her shoulder for having fixed what seemed to her a hopeless case of a car. She'll pay him as soon as she gets back, not just for the work but for the gas, too, but first, she's got to get her wallet—and all the rest of her belongings—from Joe's house.

They drive back in silence. Nona is huddled up against the car door. She can feel it when Joe looks over at her for more than a second, and she turns her head further away each time. When they get to the house, she jumps out of the pickup and hightails it inside, letting the screen door slam behind her. She thinks, cruelly, maybe if he can't get in, he won't be able to break her heart again. She's in the guest bedroom, throwing her belongings into her suitcase, when she starts to feel the anger fade. She slows her frenzy, then stops and looks around. There are still Easter decorations in here from last Spring, courtesy of Joe's mother. She tears her gaze away and nearly hiccups, feeling the shadow of her own mother's grief. On the desk, there are a dozen letters Nona has started and never finished, addressed to her brothers. She snatches them up and throws them in the wastebasket by the bed. Worst of all, there's a blue baseball cap sitting beside the lamp on the bedside table that she's worn so much, Joe has told her to take it with her when she leaves. Her hand hovers over it, but she can't bring herself to pick it up. She turns her palm up toward the ceiling and watches her fingers shake until a voice comes from the doorway.

"I told you you could take that hat."

Nona stuffs her hands into her pockets, then pauses, a little confused as to when she put her jacket on. It must have been while she was dashing about the room, running high on the red of anger.

"I don't want it."

"Really?" His voice breaks, and she wishes it hadn't, because there goes her heart, straining against her ribcage for her to go to him. "I thought you liked that hat."

Finally, she turns around, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. Joe comes a few feet into the room, then stops when she asks him:

"Why are you trying to keep me here?"

He looks like he might start shaking at any moment. She's afraid if he does, he'll blow away like a leaf in the wind, and then she'll really never see him again.

And despite it all, she really wants to see him again.

Which is why it hurts so much when he looks at the floor and shakes his head as if he can't give her an answer that won't hurt her.

"Joe, come on, just tell me."

"I shouldn't."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She pushes up off the wall and starts toward him. "I'm not stupid, Joe—and neither are you, so don't even start with that—and I know you've got a reason, and I think at this point, I deserve to know-"

She's started to raise her voice, and then he looks up and it all falls away. She can't speak. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and puts his shoulders back.

"Nona," he tells her, and she feels like she's watching his heart break in real-time, "I'm in love with you."

He's right, he shouldn't have said that. And then he says more, and Nona can only gape.

"I'm in love with you," he repeats miserably, "and I know that if I say goodbye, I'm never going to see you again."

"That's-" She waves her hands, but her feet are cemented to the floor by desperation, and she cries out. "That's so selfish, Joe! Don't you know that?!"

His face falls. When she abruptly starts toward him, almost falling as her feet are suddenly released from their anchors, he doesn't seem to realize she's got more to say. He winces, ducking his head again and retreating into his shoulders like a turtle who's lost his shell.

"I know. Fuck, I know. I just..."

He trails off when she arrives and cups his chin in her hands, lifting his head slightly so she can look him in the eye. Tears have gathered in his lashes, and now they begin to fall. He swallows thickly.

"I just couldn't help it."

Guilt at having caused his tears heats Nona's cheeks, but the pounding of her cracked heart echoes in her ears and tells her she can't back down now.

"Don't you know I'm selfish too?" she whispers, and before either of them can say another word, her lips are on his. She kisses him hard enough that he comes close to losing his balance, but he puts his trust in his crutch, and once he's steady again, he flings his arms around her—both his arms. His fingers flex with emotion as he clutches at her back and she feels the bittersweet knife of longing cut a jagged trail through her chest. She has to leave, she has to go to Boston, there is no changing that—it almost makes her break away. But Joe kisses her again and again and she cannot bring herself to step back. Even when they do part, they don't go far; she can still feel his shaky breath on her lips when he lets it out in a wanting sigh.

"Maybe you're selfish," she whispers at last, "but I'm worse."

"What? How?"

She gulps back the floundering excuses her fear wants to offer up and forces herself to tell him the honest truth, no matter how it burns her throat coming up.

"I'm kind of, well- I'm in love with you, too," she confesses, brushing a lock of hair off his eyebrow, and he stares at her like she's just told him there's an eighth wonder of the world and he'll be the first to see it.

"But..." He fumbles for the words. "But how is that worse?"

"Because I'm the one leaving."

She expects him to let her go—it is no less than she feels she deserves—but instead he pulls her back to him and wraps her in a hug. He pushes his face into the crook of her neck, brushes his lips there in a kiss, and holds her so tight there is no room for her fear to stand between them. Eventually, she relaxes, and he takes a deep breath before standing up straight. They do not separate entirely but stay in a sort of half-embrace, touching but not locked together as before. Joe leans in and kisses Nona on the forehead, reverent, and it is his tenderness that makes her finally start to cry.

"Oh, no, no," he pleads, brushing his thumbs gently across her cheeks. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Don't cry because of me."

"How could I not?" she chokes out. "I've just got you, and now I have to let you go."

He gets a funny look on his face, but there is a determination building beneath every stirring motion. He moves his hands to hold her face, his palms cool against the sudden heat in her cheeks, and Nona tries to force her trembling lip to still.

"Whoever said that?" he asks, and his voice is softer than usual, drawing over Nona like a warm wool blanket on a chilly morning just before dawn.

"I, um..." She shrugs, not quite helpless but not strong enough to make this decision on her own. "I don't know."

"Well, you can tell them they're wrong. Very wrong." He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, watching her with a slight wariness as if he's afraid she'll start crying again. "The most wrong, even."

She giggles, just a little, but it is enough, and a smile cracks Joe's serious expression.

"There it is. Oh, that smile." He draws his thumb over her lower lip. "I'm gonna get a photo of that smile before you leave, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agrees against his lips, unsure who started leaning in first but not caring now that they've met in the middle.

"You promise?" he pulls back just slightly, though not without effort. "Promise you'll smile for me, sweetheart."

"I promise," she whispers, then goes back in for another kiss.

Forty-eight minutes later, once she's gone and paid Mr. O'Connery for his hard work, she drives the coupe right back to the house. Come hell or high water, she's going to keep that promise—and she does. When the sunlight comes out from behind the clouds and streams in the windows, it finds her sitting at Joe's kitchen table, looking just past the lens of his dented Kodak camera, and smiling because it's him she's looking at, it's Joe, her Joe. He takes the photo, waits a moment, then comes around the camera and kisses her.

"Call me when you get to Boston," he whispers, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. She's tempted to cut it off and give it to him right then and there.

Her suitcase is waiting by the door. She's already a week and a half behind schedule. She has no more excuses—and no more time—to delay.

Nona strokes her thumb across his jaw and studies his face. He leans into her touch.

"Joe?"

"Hmm?"

He's been looking at her lips. She's been looking at his.

"Think I could stay one more night?"

She leaves for Boston in the morning. Before she wakes up, he takes a photograph of her tangled up in his sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow like the streams of Mother Earth, her body a beautiful Appalachia beneath the covers. He tells her what he's done and she can see his relief when she smiles and tells him to get it developed.

"To remember me by."

Nudging a kiss against her shoulder where her shirt has slipped down, he tells her he could never forget her, and she believes him.

The summer flies, and though the heat persists, her life is happier with him in it. Her parents think she's crazy for driving back and forth to Hughestown every other weekend to see him, but hey, her roommate at Boston College thinks it's romantic. Secretly, Nona does too. Sometimes she meets Joe in the middle. At first, this means Hartford, Connecticut, but they quickly get sick of the dangerously wild traffic and relocate their meet-up spot to Poughkeepsie, New York. It's quieter there. Still, she prefers seeing him in Boston, where he seems happier, and Hughestown, where he seems happiest, so they brave the commute. On the day the war finally ends, she cries on the phone with him for three hours. He's not afraid to cry, too. Johnny Martin comes home from Austria (they were right, after all) and he and Joe meet up once or twice to catch up over drinks that Autumn. Nona is very happy for them and sends her love to the newly-pregnant Pat.

By the time Winter overtakes the East Coast, Nona has been to Hughestown dozens of times and ultimately decided the middle of bumfuck nowhere isn't so bad after all. She thinks she might like to grow old in a sleepy little town like this—but not for many years. For now, she'll take Boston with all its gritty glamor, or Columbus, where she returns for Thanksgiving and then Christmas. Joe comes with her for the latter, after which they drive overnight to see his family on the 26th. Nona isn't prepared for all the friendly attention she gets from his older siblings, and when Joe finds her crying outside on the porch in the snow, he takes her out to their old spot at the diner, gets her a milkshake, and just sits with her until she's okay again. He gets it. He always does.

Months and months go by, and as Winter melts into Spring, Nona starts getting antsy. She wants to be with Joe more often. She's smart enough not to forsake her studies for more time with him, but it's hard, and she misses him, and he knows it. Loving someone so far away is immensely difficult, but at the end of the day, she wouldn't trade him for the world.

He shows up in Boston right before Easter with his pickup packed with all his worldly possessions. There is still a little snow on the ground from the last blizzard. She watches him skirt it on his way to the door. He's wearing a tie. Why is he wearing a tie?

Nona nearly falls down the stairs twice as she flies to meet him on the stoop.

"I've come to stay," is how he greets her when she flings open the door. "Marry me?"

Nona has never fancied herself the marrying sort.

Then she sees the ring in Joe's hands and the tears in his eyes, and immediately, there is nothing more precious in the world than the thought of being his wife.

"Yes," she whispers against his cheek, clinging to him like they're the last two on earth. "Yes, Joe, of course, I'll marry you."

"Of course?"

She smashes her lips against his and he melts, smiling into her mouth as he finagles the ring onto her finger. When they part, they've both started to cry, and Nona laughs, cupping Joe's face in her hands.

"Of course."

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

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[sugume]

NEVER SWEETER — Toji Fushiguro

✗ "gonna treat you to a warm bed and her,” he cups your pussy. “to a much-needed fucking...” 

( TW ) f!reader, nieve!reader, motorcycle club!Toji, face sitting, unprotected sex, size difference, age gap (reader mid 20s, Toji early 40s), belly bulge, Cunnilingus, Toji picks up reader by her pussy (yes this needs a warning bc I almost fainted lmao) 

Word count -> 3.7k

author's note: Happy late valentines! removed header bc tumblr keeps flagging :(

"What brings a sweet girl like you to a place like this?" The elderly bartender smiles warmly at you. You sniffle, lifting a hand to gently wipe away your tears. 

"Do you have red wine?" you inquire, ignoring his question. 

"Red wine? Does this look like an establishment that serves wine?" The man a few seats down in the leather cut shares a laugh with the bartender. You frown. 

"So, you don't have wine?" The bartender tilts his head, staring at you for several seconds before turning around. You slump—of course, he doesn't consider you worth his time. Just like your ex-boyfriend, who abruptly ended things through text before sending a photo kissing a mutual friend. Driving back to the apartment you once shared, he ignored your pleas to open the door and talk. You wish you hadn’t given him your key that morning. After what felt like hours of tears and begging, you concluded that you deserved better. You weren't going to wait for him to decide if you were worth his time. That and the fact it was getting embarrassing crying in the cold hallway. 

So, you hopped into your car and drove aimlessly, listening to your favorite playlists' until you found yourself on the outskirts of town. The only notable destination was a somewhat sketchy two-story bar, but you didn't care. All you craved was a drink and maybe some good company. As you stepped into the bar, disappointment washed over you—no karaoke in sight. Instead, you were greeted by a bar, a few booths, two pool tables, a sports channel loudly playing on the TV, and a dart wall. The atmosphere seemed alright, several men in leather jackets casting lingering stares at you. Shrugging off their attention, you made your way to a bar stool. 

"Here, lady," the bartender offered you a glass of something. You hesitate before grabbing it and giving it a tentative sniff. "Don't worry, it's your red wine." 

"Thank you," you smiled, maybe he wasn’t so bad. He nodded and moved on to attend to someone else, leaving you to savor your wine. As you observed the bar, a group of older men in leather jackets were engaged in an intense match at one the pool tables caught your attention. One of them, with his back turned to you, leaned in for a shot, his long hair cascading down. For a moment, you wished he'd turn around so you could see his face. Maybe he could keep you company tonight. The cue pushed forward, and by the groans and moans from the other men you knew he won. You smile and down the rest of your wine. 

Turning back to the bar, you searched for the bartender. He wasn't behind the bar this time; instead, he stood beside one of the booths tucked away in the corner. He was speaking to a man whose back was turned to you, He pats the man's shoulder. As the bartender took the empty glass from the man's hand, you couldn't help but wonder if he, too, was drowning his sorrows in alcohol. The thought tugs at your heart. Perhaps he'd appreciate some company, someone to vent to about whatever he’s going through. The old bartender walks back behind the counter. 

"Excuse me, mister? Can I get another glass of this, please?" You shake your empty glass. 

"One sec, lady. Need to give this drink to someone." 

"I'll give it to him." The bartender looks up, raising an eyebrow at you before bursting into laughter. 

"Yeah, no. That's the worst idea I've ever heard." He smiled and shook his head. 

"What? Why? I can do it. It's not like I'll drop the drink or something." You hold out your glass, shaking it more emphatically. 

"No—actually, have at it. Gonna be the funniest shit I've seen in months," he grabbed your glass, refilling it, and handed it back to you along with the man's drink. "You won't last a second, honey." 

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a 'thank you' before heading towards the dimly lit corner. It felt as if the entire bar momentarily held its breath. Approaching the man, who up close appeared twice your size, you suck in a breath. His hands, covering his face, seemed capable of tearing you in two. You swallow hard. You'd never seen a man this large before; he must be a descendant of a giant. He reaches out a hand after you 

"Hand me my fuckin’ drink, man," he grunts in a deep, raspy voice. It's hoarse too, like he doesn’t enjoy speaking. 

“H-hi,” you whisper, and the man swings his head towards you so fast that you're surprised he doesn’t wince from whiplash. “Hi, I'm y/n. I brought you your drink.” You set his drink on the table before scooting into the other side of the cheap leather booth. 

“What the fuck,” he looks down at his drink, at you, to the bar, back at his drink, finally stopping at you. He glares, and you wince, shrinking into the booth. His big chest and towering height, coupled with a scar on the side of his face, make him incredibly intimidating. 

You stare up at him, and he stares down at you with impatience. 

“Uhm—well, I—um, you see—” 

“Spit it out, girl,” he grunts, holding eye contact. 

“Well, I just saw that you were, you know, sad, and I was sad, so I wanted to come and tell you that you didn't have to be sad alone.” You ramble, throwing your hands around in the air. 

“Is this a fucking joke?” He crosses his arms over his ginormous chest. His biceps bulge under the leather, and he stares down at you with a look of disgust, causing you to deflate. Your eyes sting. 

“Uhm, no, sorry. I-I can go. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll go, sorry” you whisper and stand, reaching to grab your glass. The man grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. 

“Stay,” he grumbles, staring up at you with those green eyes. 

“Nono—it’s okay, really—” 

“Stay.” He tugs your wrist hard enough that you fall back into the booth. You nod and reach for your drink, this time to take the nervous edge off. You watch the man—whose name you don’t know—reach for his drink and swallow it down in one big gulp. You stare at his Adam's apple for a few seconds before taking a sip of your wine, sloshing the liquid around in the glass. 

“Y/n.” 

You stop and look up at the man. The way he says your name sends tingles down your spine. It's so deep and commanding that you feel like you have no choice but to respond. You want to respond. 

“Yes?” 

“You said I was sad.” He stares when you don’t answer, and you quickly realize it was a question, not a statement. 

“Well—you looked all sad and lonely in this corner, and I felt bad.” 

“Do you walk up to all men you feel bad for?” 

"No, the only man I've been around since high school was my boyfriend. He doesn’t like it when I talk to other men,” you confess, mentally correcting yourself—ex-boyfriend who doesn’t have a say in what you do anymore. 

“Is that why you said you were sad, little boy being mean to a sweet thing like you?” 

“No, well yeah—he broke up with me today,” you take another sip of wine. “Sent me a picture of him with another girl and locked me out of our apartment.” You take a deep breath, trying to breathe through the sobs that threaten to come up. 

“Sorry, what was your name? I don't think you told me yet.” You ask, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself. If you said another word about your ex, you would start sobbing, and you came here to comfort him. 

“Toji, sweet girl, and that little boy doesn’t deserve a girl like you. You were my girl, never do anything to hurt you. Never touch—fuckin' look at another woman.” He leans over the table to wipe a stray tear that fell. You lean into the touch of his warm fingers on your cheek before realizing that isn't exactly appropriate. You feel your body start to heat when his hand doesn’t leave your face; instead, he cups the entire left side of your face. 

“Thank you for saying that, but I’m supposed to be here comforting you because you're sad,” you murmur, your lips grazing his palm. You watch Toji’s eyes look down and darken. 

“M’not upset, least I wasn’t until some sweet girl came up to me in my own bar, upset 'cause her bitch of a boyfriend hurt her,” he grunts. 

“Your bar?” You question as his thumb continues to rub your cheek. You snuggle deeper into his hand, not caring that before 15 minutes ago he was a stranger, or that he could bring his hand down and squeeze the life out of you. Maybe you’d like that. The wine must be getting to you. 

“Mhm, own this place, sleep above it.” He starts to pull his hand away; you grab onto his forearm. 

“No,” you rub the side of your face into his palm. “Not yet.” 

“Oh, sweet thing, you touch-starved, hm? Need a man to hold you.” 

“I think it’s cool that you live above your bar. Always here if something goes wrong.” You dodge his question. You don’t want to think of what your ex-boyfriend never gave you after several years, what he could’ve been giving that girl in the picture. Where were you going to go tonight? You can’t get into your apartment. Are you going to buy all new clothes and jewelry and stay in a cheap, sketchy hotel until you save enough to buy your own place? 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” Toji lifts his other hand to the other side of your face, wiping your tears with such tenderness it makes you sob harder. “Oh, sweet girl, he doesn’t deserve these tears.” 

You shake your head before pulling away from his warm embrace. “S-sorry, I'm gonna go to the bathroom and wash my face really quick. Which way is it?” You cry, trying and failing to stop the snot leaking out of your nose. 

“Right behind you, first door to the left.” 

You stand and half-run towards the door. Just as you open it, Toji grabs you by the waist. You gasp. 

“Toji?” 

“Don’t wash your face in there; it’s disgusting and dirty.” 

“Then where am I—” 

“My apartment, baby, just through that door and up the stairs.” Toji holds you against his chest as he points to the door at the end of the small hall. You look up at him through blurry tears.  

“C-can you come with me?” You ask. You didn’t want to be alone. 

— 

“Thank you for letting me use your bathroom and cry on your shoulder, and vent to you. I appreciate it,” you thank Toji as you walk out of his bathroom with a clean face. He stands from the small table he was sitting at. 

“Don’t thank me, sweet girl, c’mere,” he grumbles, raising a hand to motion you towards him. You walk into his arms. He twists you around, so your back is to his. He puts a hand on your tummy, the other on your hip. You look up at him, confused. 

“Got somewhere to stay tonight?” 

“I can call a hotel—” The hand on your hip tightens. “A safe place?”  

You look down and shake your head. 

“Guess I know how to choose them.” You joke. 

“You never had the chance to choose a real man if you’ve been with him since forever,” Toji murmurs into your ear. You involuntarily arch your back when his breath hits your ear, you ass pushing onto his front. You stare up at him silently, trying not to focus on the semi he's rocking.  

“Wanna stay with me tonight? Promise I'll do right by you.” He squeezes your hip, pressing even harder on your belly. Without much thought, you nod. He seems nice enough, and deep down you know he won’t hurt you. Or maybe it’s the wine talking. You lean back into his chest, desperate to be held. When was the last time your ex held you? 

“You know what I mean when I say I'll do right by you?” His lips graze your neck. You shiver and arch again. 

“That y-you’re gonna let me sleep on the bed while you take the couch?” He laughs, forcing you to step forward with him. 

“Mean’s m‘gonna treat you to a warm bed and her,” He cups your pussy. “To a much-needed fucking.” You gasp and bring your hands down to his arm. His fingers cover the entirety of your pussy, from asshole to pubs.  

“T-toji.” You whimper when he grinds his rough palm int you clit.  

“Gonna show you how a real man treats a sweet thing like you. You want that?” You nod furiously. 

“Fill you so much you’re gonna be able to see me right here.” You look down at the big palm on tummy. He pushes down. You clench over his hand. 

“Please Toji.”  He grinds his palm harder into you. 

“Let’s go to the bed.” Toji picks you up by the hand on you pussy and waist, carrying you to his bed on the on the other side of his studio apartment. He tosses you down and you bounce and a few times before getting hold of yourself and turning around to face him. You nervously smile at him.  

“C’mere, let me take your clothes off.” He demands in that deep, sultry voice. You crawl to him before standing. You hold onto his shoulders as he kisses your breast. Even standing on his bed you're only a head taller. He pulls your shorts and panties down. “Up.” You lift each one of your legs.  

“Arms next.”  You hold your arms up and he pulls your shirt off before reaching back and undoing your bra with such ease.  You stand naked on the bed and watch Toji undress himself next. He leaves his boxer on and falls onto the bed. You stand above him, not knowing what to do with yourself. You only ever did missionary and doggy with your ex, but Toji was laying on his back. Did he want you to ride him? You drop to your knees and swing yourself over his thick thigh. You gasp at the feeling of his cock underneath your pussy, it’s so big, just like the rest of him. Your knees barely touch the bed.  His entire body is covered with his dark hair. You can make out the defined muscles on his chest but there's also a layer of fat over him. He looks like a real man, not whatever your boyfriend was. 

“Whatcha doin’?”  

“Don’t you want me to ride you?” You look up at Toji, embarrassed and too shy to admit you don’t know what to do next. He smirks before grabbing your hips and pulling you up until you're sitting on his hairy chest. 

“Not my cock.”  

“What?” You squeak. 

“Ride my face sweet thing, it’ll feels good, promise—put your thighs on each side of face, mhm just like that, good girl—oh she’s pretty.” Toji grunts unable to take his eyes away from your pussy.  He uses one hand to part your lips.  

“Fuck, look how pretty she is,” He groans, lifting his head to kiss your clit. You grab his hair and sink down. “Prettiest pussy ‘ve ever seen.” You whimper at the feeling of his hot breath on your pussy. 

You feel Toji’s mouth wrap around your clit. He sucks. You fall down his face, all hesitation flying out the window. You feel him chuckle. Your legs spasm and the vibration and you moan. You grip his thick hair, grinding up and down his face. Toji continues to lick and suck you and before you even know it, you're screaming as you orgasm. Juices gushing down his face and into his mouth. He swallows.  

“Toji! Toji!” You cry, humping his face even harder as you ride the waves. He tongue fucks you even faster. “S’too much!” You scream, trying and failing to lift yourself from his face. Toji smiles into your pussy, finally releasing your thighs from his hold. You fall onto his chest heaving, leaving Toji with a pretty view of your pussy clenching around nothing and dripping. 

He lifts his hand to pinch your clit. You squeak like a little mouse. It’s adorable, you’re adorable he thinks. He doesn’t let you rest for long, the feeling of your head laying on his dick leaving him restless. He grabs you by the hip and slides you onto the bed before he tugs his boxers down. He throws them where his other clothes landed and crawls on top of you.  

“Toji,” You admire his upper body before looking down. “Oh!” 

“What’s a matter?” He looks down where his dick rest on your tummy. It’s so long it covers your belly button. 

 You blink down at it. “Do you have lube?” 

“Sweet thing, I was just in between your thighs, trust me, we don't need lube,” he grabs your hand and brings it down to your pussy. “Feel yourself.” You're soaked. Your fingers just slip around aimlessly. Toji grabs your wrist and brings your fingers to his mouth. He stares you down as he sucks them. One. By. One.  

“Think you’re ready?” 

“Will it hurt?” 

“Maybe. Probably. It if hurts, I'll stop.” 

“What if I don't want you to stop.” He chuckles, lining himself up with your puckered hole. 

“Okay baby, if you say stop, I'll stop. Don’t and I'll keep going.” 

“Kay—kiss me first.” You demand, making grabby hands at him. Toji complies, leaning down to kiss your pouty lips. You giggle at the shock that courses through your body when your lips meet. You two sync almost immediately. You lick and taste him, and he almost goes slack in your arms. If it wasn't for your hips that were grinding against the tip of him his cock like a small pulse, he would’ve laid there kissing you until the crack of dawn. 

“m’gonna put it in now.” 

“Kay.” You sigh against his lips, utterly relaxed. 

Toji reaches between you too and lines himself back with your hole. He pushes in a few inches before looking back up at you. Your teeth are clenched. Fuck. You knew he would feel different from your ex but not this different. “You need me to stop?”   

“No, keep going till it’s all the way.” You wrap your shaking legs around his hips. Toji pushes another few inches in while whispering sweet nothings. “Almost there sweet thing.” He reassures, pushing the rest of him in. You cry. 

“You're okay, you did so fuckin’ good baby.” Toji grunts. You're so tight. Too tight. He tries not to move in fear of hurting you. He couldn’t beat himself up if he hurt you. He kisses your neck as you claw at his back, relearning how to breathe.  

“Y-you can move now.” You whisper in his ear after a few minutes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm.” You answer digging your heels into his firm ass.  

Toji kisses you before pulling out slightly. You whine but nod your head in reassurance. He pulls out until only the tip inside you. He slides back in. Your pussy clenches around the tip, nails digging into his hard back. 

“Feel’s s’good!” You throw your head back. You never knew sex could feel this good—this consuming.  Toji thrusts in and out of you, grunting. 

“Fuckin’ feel like a virgin sweet thing, so fuckin’ good. Look at that.” You look down at your bulging tummy.  You cry out, head falling back onto his bed. 

“S’too big, you’re gonna break me!” You arch your back into him. Toji reaches down to pinch your nipples. 

“Takin’ my cock like a good girl.” He groans, pinching your nipples with one hand, the other going down to press your stomach protrudes. “Told you I was gonna make you feel it right here.”   

You scream louder, so loud you're sure the men beneath can hear.  

“Gonna cum on my cock sweet thing?”  

“Yes, m’gonna cum Toji!” You scream. “Please!” You beg for something. Anything. Everything he could give you. 

“Look at me when you cum, look me in the eyes as you go cock drunk.” He slams harder into you. You open your eyes and look at Toji as you cream all over his cock. He clenches his teeth as he continues to thrust sloppily in you your contracting pussy.  

“Toji, too much—no more!” You claw at his arm, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He slips out your pussy using one of his hands to fist his cock before cumming all over your tummy. You watch him unload all over you before sinking into the bed. You close your as you try to come up with a coherent thought. All you can think about is Toji and cock. Toji and his cock.  

“Feel good, sweet thing?” You nod dumbly. “Not upset anymore?”  

“Nope.” You shake your head, smiling at nothing. You don't even remember what you were upset about in the first place. You zone out until you feel him rub something wet onto your sensitive pussy.  

“Just cleaning you up baby. Gonne hold you tonight, okay?” 

“Please.” You hold a hand out. You feel Toji slip behind you before a blanket is thrown over you. His limp cock rest on your ass.  

“g’night.” You slur twisting your head the place a kiss onto his big hairy chest.  

“Goodnight sweet girl—think I might have to keep you. So fuckin’ sweet.” 

[therandomavenger]

Blade of Shadows, Wings of Light Preview

Here is a preview of Blade of Shadows, Wings of Light, my new giant Urban Fantasy novel. You can get it here!

There was no safety to be had. Weaving in and out of the struggling mass of people were two tall figures. They were dressed in dark armor, with spiky helms fitted to their heads. They looked like refugees from a fantasy movie. They seemed unaffected by whatever was causing the violence, but that didn’t mean they were safe to approach. In fact, he had the sense that they were very much not safe. Jack turned and ran in the other direction, his smooth shoes slipping on blood. He went flying into a parked car, righted himself, and took off running again, hoping to leave this insane scene behind.

What had caused everyone to go so violently psychotic? He needed to find a safe place to sit this out, until whatever the fuck had happened passed. To do that, he needed to get off the street. Traffic was at a standstill now, in both directions, blocking most of the paths between him and safety, wherever that was. But he kept running, slipping into any size gap he could find for himself.

The two armored figures spotted him and were now running toward him. They were impossibly tall—at least seven feet—and their long legs rapidly shrank the distance between them. When the people around them didn’t move in time, they withdrew long dark swords, slicing through any human obstacle. As Jack watched, he saw them slice the head off a woman wearing a business suit. She didn’t even have time to scream.

He ran. They ran after him. They were going to catch him. And then what? They weren’t fighting, he sensed they were on a mission. And right now, that mission was him. Why?

Jack took a second to look behind him, and as he did, he slammed into the side of a parked car. He rebounded and hit the street painfully. He tried to ignore the scrapes and bruises, getting back to his feet, but as he did, a new figure leapt on top of him, pushing him down.

“Stay down,” the new figure said, then stood over him, drawing from his side something that looked very much like a sword. But it couldn’t possibly be a sword, could it? This was not a movie. The newcomer leapt in front of him, sword out. The two armored figures rushed him, their own swords swinging. The newcomer blocked them easily, then fell back, crouching next to Jack.

Jack got up on all fours, trying to rise to his feet. The newcomer was wearing armor as well, but it was a combination of red and grey.

The two armored figures attacked the newcomer, but making a hand gesture, conjured some sort of shining barrier in the air between him and the assailants. Sparks flew off the barrier as the Spikey Ones – that’s what Jack had decided to call them – attacked with their swords.

Jack’s rescuer, if that’s what he was, grabbed hold of Jack’s shoulder and pulled him up onto his feet. “We’re going to need to run, do you have that in you? You look pretty banged up.”

Jack nodded. He could run. He could run forever, the way his heart was hammering. He had a million questions he needed answered, but for now… for now, running was good.

“Okay, I can get us out of here fast, but you have to stay really close to me,” the man said. He pushed Jack forward. Jack started running, the man running alongside and a little ahead of him.

The man was fast, impossibly fast, weaving nimbly through obstacles that should have slowed him. And Jack stayed close enough to feel the wind of his passage. Jack realized he was running faster than he ever had before, faster than he’d ever thought possible. But that couldn’t be. Surely this was his imagination, the stress fracturing his brain. A couple of times, he started falling behind, but his rescuer would reach back and grab him; then he would find himself racing again. His body felt like it was being pushed to the limit and beyond. He thought his heart might explode, but if he slowed down at all his rescuer would be gone, and the Spikey Ones would have him.

Jack didn’t know why, exactly, but he knew he couldn’t let that happen.  That’s why, with everything in him, Jack tried to keep up; he really did, but his rescuer had gotten a few steps away. He felt the force that had been pumping through his muscles start to dissipate. He poured on as much speed as he could, drawing on his many years on the cross-country team, but he was out of juice. Jack surged forward, into an open space in the middle of the street. As he did, he tripped on something he couldn’t see, and went skidding across the pavement, catching himself with his face.

His rescuer was there in a moment. “Sorry,” he said, in his electronically modulated voice, and he helped Jack to pick himself up. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

The Spikey Ones still pursued, but there were several wrecked cars between them now. He had a moment to catch his breath. There weren’t as many people around, but the ones who were there were trading blows like the others. Screaming and snarling into each other’s faces, as they pummeled each other with fists, or whatever objects they could find.  He watched a sixteen-year-old girl slash a grown man’s face with the glass from a broken bottle. Blood fountained everywhere.

Blood dripped from Jack’s forehead, into his eye. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.

“We need to get out of here,” his rescuer said.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, getting ready to run again. But instead of running, the man emitted a low whistle, and a few moments later a wedge-shaped object emerged from the crowd. It was silver, with a set of handlebars protruding from its front end. The top was cushioned like a motorcycle. But this was not a motorcycle. It lacked wheels and was floating in the air, travelling under its own power.

“What the fuck is that?” Jack asked.

“My Steed,” his rescuer said, pulling Jack along as he went to meet it. In one smooth motion, he straddled the thing, then indicated that Jack should hop on behind him. Part of Jack wanted to do no such thing, wanted to sit down in the middle of the street and cry. But the Spikey Ones were close now, so fear made him follow his rescuer’s request.

There came a slight buzzing sound as the Steed lurched into motion. The streets had more open space here, and his rescuer took advantage of it, steering them down the street at incredible speed; his reflexes were unnaturally sharp as he navigated around obstacles.

“Hold on to me,” the man said, as he leaned forward, and unbelievably, accelerated more. At this speed, death would be inevitable if Jack fell off. Blood was stinging his eyes now. He needed to get a good look at himself and see how much damage he’d done to his face, but that was a problem for later.

Jack had no idea what was going on, but at least the Spikey Ones had vanished behind them. “Did we lose them?” he asked.

“Those two, yes, but there is an entire hand of Vrith here, so we’re not out of the woods yet,” his rescuer said.

“Who are you?” Jack asked.

“My name is Ser Griffin Salazar,” the man said. “And I’m a Paladin of the Way.”

“A Paladin of the Way? I didn’t think that was really a thing,” Jack said. “And the Vrith?”

“They’re real too,” Griffin said as they rounded a corner and headed down a narrow alleyway. “They work for the Reaper of Strife, which explains why people are acting the way they are. Yes, Reapers are real too.”

After some effort, Jack voiced his most immediate questions. “Why are they here? And why are you helping me?”

“For some reason, the Reapers want you. I’m here to make sure they don’t get you.”

“Why the fuck would they want me?” Jack asked.

“That, I don’t know,” Griffin said. “But trust me when I say I’m here to help you.”

They were through the side alley and rocketing away toward a calmer section of the city. Here, traffic flowed as normal, and the people weren’t stopping to beat the shit out of each other. For the first time, Jack started to relax a bit.

He had no idea if Griffin was who he said he was, or if he was actually trying to help him. But he had no choice other than to trust him, at least for the moment. Without Griffin, he would already be in the clutches of his pursuers.

Griffin slowed and found another side street. Though they were rocketing through traffic on an eye-catching device, no one seemed to notice them. That was odd in and of itself, but it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d seen that day, so Jack tried to put it out of his mind.

Soon they were among the trees and meadows of Carthage’s central park. Griffin slowed again, then came to a stop in the middle of a copse of elms. Griffin dismounted, then helped Jack down. Jack tripped coming off the mount and fell on his ass, his back slamming against a tree trunk.

“Are you okay?” Griffin asked.

Jack laughed. It was a nervous impulse, a reaction born of stress, not mirth, but he couldn’t help himself. Through the matte grey of Griffin’s helmet, Jack couldn’t see his expression, but he hoped he wasn’t laughing too.

“So, those spikey things… they’re not human?” Jack asked once he’d gotten control of himself.

“They’re Vrith,” Griffin said. “They live in the under realms and serve the Reapers.”

“Are you human?” Jack asked, the question occurring to him suddenly. It seemed very important to know the answer.

“I’m human,” Griffin said.

“I’m going to need you to prove that,” Jack said, using the tree trunk to pull himself back onto his feet. Griffin let out an electronically modulated sigh and gripped his helmet with both of his hands. He fingered a latch on the side, causing his helmet to break apart into two pieces, revealing his face.

Jack could not help but stare. Griffin’s skin was the light brown of a Bajaran, his eyes a rich, chocolate. His long hair was dark and plastered by sweat to his head, sweat that was also running down his face. He was the single most attractive human being Jack had ever seen; Jack blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t having some sort of weird out-of-body experience.

“Satisfied?” Griffin asked him, wiping away the sweat that was dripping into his eyes.

“You could be a demon,” Jack offered. “They can look human, or so I’ve heard.”

“I can bleed for you if you’d like, that should prove it.” But he was smiling as he said it.

“Okay, you’re human,” Jack said. “That still doesn’t explain… anything, really.”

“I don’t have much information about what is really going on,” Griffin said. “A few days ago, I was sent here to watch out for someone who’d drawn the attention of the Reapers. I was to make sure they didn’t get their hands on them. That turned out to be you.”

“How did you find me?” Jack said. “It’s awfully convenient, you showing up just as they struck.”

“I’ve been watching you for the last couple of days,” Griffin said. “I was waiting for this, actually. So, no, it’s not a coincidence.”

“You’ve been… watching me?” Jack had a sudden sense of violation. “And you didn’t warn me what was about to happen?”

“I didn’t know exactly what was about to happen,” Griffin said. “I was just supposed to protect you. Whoever you are, I can’t let the Reapers get you.”

“Why? Who am I that they’d care so much?”

“I don’t know,” Griffin said. “I don’t even know if the Guardians know.”

“Do you have friends here? Other… what did you call yourself?”

“There are no other Paladins in the area,” Griffin answered. “You’ve got me, and that’s it. Unless I can call for help. But for now, I’m not sure more Paladins would be helpful. We need to avoid attention. Do what I say, and I can keep you safe.”

Jack thought about that for a moment. He wanted to trust this man, even if he didn’t want to examine his reasons for that too closely. Regardless, he needed more information. “What’s our goal, then? Kill the Reaper and the Vrith? Take me home?”

“I want to take you to Greywall. That’s where I’m from. We can figure out why the Reapers want you and keep you safe for the long term.”

Jack sighed. “I have somewhere I’m supposed to be this Triday,” he said. “My, uh… my friend’s birthday. I really can’t miss it.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. I really am. But you need to come with me.”

“And I have finals next week! Shit! I’m going to fail everything if I’m not back by Nisday.”

Griffin shrugged apologetically. “I’m not sure you understand how serious this situation is.”

“Oh, I understand,” Jack said. “I’m just… I’m going to whine about it for a minute.”

Griffin gave him a lopsided grin. “I can get behind that. But we need to keep moving. The Reaper is going to know where we are soon.”

“Can I at least call my parents and tell them what is going on?” Jack asked, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

“No, give me that!” Griffin yanked the cell phone out of Jack’s hand, threw it against the ground, then pulled out his sword and speared through it several times. Jack stared in shock. When it was in several small pieces, Griffin fished the battery out of its casing and made sure it was far away from the rest of the debris.

“Why did you do that?”

“That’s a tracking device. The Reapers can track you just as easily as emergency services.”

“Shit,” Jack said, sitting down at the ground once more. “So… I’m just going to, like… disappear, and no one will know what happened to me.”

“When you’re safely in Greywall, we can let you make contact with your parents. Maybe.”

“How far away is Greywall?” Jack asked.

“About five hundred miles southeast, on the border between Meridia and Antheam.”

“You have phones there?”

“My people are the ones who invented cell phones—not that we get credit. So yes, we have phones there.”

Jack sighed and rested his forehead against his knees. “I guess we’d better get going, then.”

“It would be for the best,” Griffin said, fastening his helmet once more around his head. Jack was sorry to see his face disappear behind the metal. Griffin helped pull Jack to his feet, then together mounted his Steed and took off into the city.

[hyeque]

"where are you running off to?" [nsfw]

note: crawling or moving away from hq boys while they’re going to pound town. this is definitely not self-indulgent I just think the phrase is extremely hot

warnings: dubcon, hair pulling, manhandling, vulgar language, degradation, slapping, choking, spit roasting, mentions of implied female body parts

featuring: iwaizumi, bokuto, kuroo, tsukishima, oikawa, kageyama, atsumu

bokuto, who a man of his size, often forgets just how strong he is. what doesn't help is his never wavering stamina to go with it. his grasp on your hips is firm and surely is going to leave bruises behind. he pounds into you loud and messy, the sound of skin on skin drowning out your whimpering and crying. each time he slams back into you, your breath is knocked out of your system. "k-kou, 'is too much!" you squirm, wiggling away from his body. you attempt to push at his thighs and the frosted-tipped-haired man grumbles, quickly pulling you back so your ass is flush against him. when you try to move away again, he simply pulls your body up before turning you around so you're now facing him. you think he's finally listening to you but then he takes your legs and throws them over his shoulders. pressing them up further to your chest so that you are in a mating press, he groans when he sinks back into you. there's an obscene squelch from how wet and messy the two of you are and you can’t help but clench around him. he bites and nibbles on your ear before saying, "baby, don't be difficult. let me fuck you like how I know you need to be fucked, okay?"

atsumu who gets antsy at a team dinner because he can’t get over how beautiful you look. from the minute you stepped in you have had several people turning their heads to look at you. he’s very proud of having you as his significant other and puffs out his chest, bragging about you to whoever he can whenever because he knows he’s lucky. but eventually he starts to get pouty when he feels like eyes have been lingering on you for too long. the setter politely announces you two need to leave early, only for him to drag you inside the backseat of his car to fuck you out of possessiveness. your legs are over his shoulders as he rams into you. eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. but after both of you cum once, atsumu’s pace doesn’t falter. it’s clear you both are too sensitive right now but he ignores that. you find yourself scooting your shaking upper body towards the door and against the window. atsumu only pouts before he grabs your neck and pins you even harder to the seat. "w-why are ya trying to run away? depriving me of ma pussy is so rude baby. its mine, right? and this fat cock is nobody’s but yers, so just sit tight and take it.”

oikawa taunts you for whining and saying that "it's too much". he prides himself in the fact that he knows his dick is a lot to handle but he also prides himself in knowing that you're a slutty whore who can take whatever, and whoever-even his best friend at the same time as him. you didn't know that iwaizumi had been watching the two of you fuck. and you didn't know that oikawa brought him to join you two. that’s how you find yourself stuffed and filled with two cocks. both men relieving their stress by using you. oikawa takes your sweet ass and iwa fills your pretty mouth up with his delicious cock. the athletic trainer grunts as he fucks your mouth, blessed that at least once he could experience what it felt like. oikawa’s eyes are zeroed in on your cunt and how you suck him in. you feel so full and overwhelmed that you try to move back from both men. your restlessness doesn’t go unoticed by oikawa and he slaps your ass. “don’t move, not until all your holes have been stuffed full.” the setter snaps. he thrusts so hard into you from behind that you end up taking more of iwa in your throat. he moans loudly at the motion and the gagging come from your mouth. he then laughs and tilts your head up so you’re looking at him before saying, “yeah princess-mmhm fuck-don’t run away. it’s rude not to finish your meal.”

kuroo who absolutely gets drunk off of watching the two of you fuck in front of the mirror. he loves seeing and hearing all the cries and whimpers that come out of you, and bursts of pride run through him because he knows he’s the cause of it. but one thing that will drive him absolutely insane is eye contact. when he looks at you through the mirror while balls deep in your cunt, he can’t help but move his hips faster. harder. this motion causes you to cry out and attempt to move away from him due to how harsh he is. kuroo only scowls before he grabs you by your hair and pulls your body flush to his chest. your back arches against him and he doesn’t hesitate to ruthlessly drive into you so that you’re seeing stars. the fucking is obscenely loud but he doesn’t hesitate to bend down and say into your ear, “where are you going? i’m not done with you yet. not until you get to fully see how fucked dumb you can be from my cock. that’ll teach you not to run away from me.”

kageyama who came home from practice still high on adrenaline. you’re making dinner in the kitchen and greet him sweetly when he comes to say hi. something is odd about the way he is unusually quiet. that confusion is quickly gone once you feel him slither his arms around your waist, hard on pressing into your back. next thing you know, you’re bent over the kitchen counter whining out pleas of, “slow down tobio” and, “too much too much!” while he’s pounding your ass. you try to squirm your way from between him and the surface and feel his grip on your hips tighten before pinning you harder against the counter. now you could really feel every inch of his cock inside of you. kageyama whines and buries his head in your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. he shuts his eyes tight as the only thing he can think of is your addicting cunt and it’s warmth. “baby please, need to feel all of you. need to be buried so deep in your pretty pussy. you can let me have this, yea? don’t runaway, need to be as close to you as possible. gonna fill you up so good.”

tsukishima who cant stand how annoyingly attractive you are. it’s much worse over time as your relationship has established because you know exactly how to rile him up. so when you show up to one of his volleyball practices for the sendai frogs, short skirt and thigh highs, flirting with everyone in plain sight–he sees red. he’s eerily quiet on the drive home, neither talking nor looking at you at all. when you reach the front door you feel bad by that point and open your mouth to apologize. “i-” “shut the fuck up.” he snaps. the next few events happen fast when he’s storming over to you, carrying and throwing you onto your shared bed. he pulls your underwear to the side, pushing his shorts and briefs to his ankles before sheathing into you hard. his hulking figure consumes you and it’s all too much for your senses, causing you to babble and cry. you try to discreetly scoot yourself up in the bed so he won’t notice but freeze when you hear a cold chuckle and harsh yank on your body. “who the fuck said you could runaway? brats like you need to fully take their punishment. stay fucking still or i’m gonna fuck your ass so hard you’ll be struggling to remember how to walk.”

do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though. (c) 2022 hyque