#it's more just a personal preference than anything i can argue for

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[menciemeer]

It's interesting to me that (unless I really missed something) after the point where Hannibal sends Dolarhyde after Will's family, Will stops framing his work on the Red Dragon case as something altruistic.

Prior to that, Will talks about saving people. He even, immediately before the attack on his family, tries to convince Hannibal to help him via an appeal to his better nature (!!!)

WILL GRAHAM Do you know who they [the family that Dolarhyde is going to target] are? HANNIBAL Yes. WILL GRAHAM You're willing to let them die. HANNIBAL They're not my family, Will. And I'm not letting them die. You are.

(Which, just, listen. Hannibal is maybe the single least likely person, ever, to be swayed by the argument "maybe it would be better if fewer people died." Honestly.)

I just think it's interesting that after the attack on Will's family, that whole motivation (or pretense-at-motivation) is quietly dropped. It's not about saving the next family and it's not even really about the fear that Dolarhyde will try to finish the job. ("I can't go home until the Red Dragon is out of the way" reads more psychological to me than a statement of actual physical danger, although the viewer does also have more direct insight into Dolarhyde than Will does, and we know that he doesn't really seem interested in trying again...)

Will starts drifting further into Dolarhyde's mindset right at the end of the season, and by the time the final fight at the cliff house happens, it doesn't really feel about anything other than self-actualization. Will enacts his own becoming upon Dolarhyde. It's not about who Dolarhyde is or what he might do in the future so much as it is about Will, and what Will wants.

Anyway. The whole point of this is that it's a fun alternative (and, yes, compatible) motivation for Hannibal to direct Dolarhyde at Will's family in the first place. Will came back to the FBI and he came back to Hannibal, but he wrapped himself in a shroud of morality that doesn't align with Hannibal's view of Will's underlying self. Beyond the jealousy angle, Hannibal is making Dolarhyde bad in a way that is immensely personal to Will, so that Will can't deny that how good it would feel to hurt him.

[haru-dipthong]

Gendered pronouns in Japanese vs English

In Revolutionary Girl Utena, the main character Utena is a girl (it says so in the title), but very conspicuously uses the masculine first person pronoun 僕 (boku) and dresses in (a variation of) the boys school uniform. Utena's gender, and gender in general, is a core theme of the work. And yet, I haven’t seen a single translation or analysis post where anyone considers using anything other than she/her for Utena when speaking of her in English. This made me wonder: how does one’s choice of pronouns in Japanese correspond to what one’s preferred pronouns would be in English?

There are 3 main differences between gendered pronouns in Japanese vs English

Japanese pronouns are used to refer to yourself (first-person), while English pronouns are used to refer to others (third-person)

The Japanese pronoun you use will differ based on context

Japanese pronouns signify more than just gender

Let’s look at each of these differences in turn and how these differences might lead to a seeming incongruity between one’s Japanese pronoun choice and one’s English pronoun choice (such as the 僕 (boku) vs she/her discrepancy with Utena).

Part 1: First-person vs third-person

While Japanese does technically have gendered third person pronouns （彼、彼女） they are used infrequently¹ and have much less cultural importance placed on them than English third person pronouns. Therefore, I would argue that the cultural equivalent of the gender-signifying third-person pronoun in English is the Japanese first-person pronoun. Much like English “pronouns in bio”, Japanese first-person pronoun choice is considered an expression of identity.

Japanese pronouns are used exclusively to refer to yourself, and therefore a speaker can change the pronoun they’re using for themself on a whim, sometimes mid-conversation, without it being much of an incident. Meanwhile in English, Marquis Bey argues that “Pronouns are like tiny vessels of verification that others are picking up what you are putting down” (2021). By having others use them and externally verify the internal truth of one’s gender, English pronouns, I believe, are seen as more truthful, less frivolous, than Japanese pronouns. They are seen as signifying an objective truth of the referent’s gender; if not objective then at least socially agreed-upon, while Japanese pronouns only signify how the subject feels at this particular moment — purely subjective.

Part 2: Context dependent pronoun use

Japanese speakers often don’t use just one pronoun. As you can see in the below chart, a young man using 俺 (ore) among friends might use 私 (watashi) or 自分 (jibun) when speaking to a teacher. This complicates the idea that these pronouns are gendered, because their gendering depends heavily on context. A man using 私 (watashi) to a teacher is gender-conforming, a man using 私 (watashi) while drinking with friends is gender-non-conforming. Again, this reinforces the relative instability of Japanese pronoun choice, and distances it from gender.

Part 3: Signifying more than gender

English pronouns signify little besides the gender of the antecedent. Because of this, pronouns in English have come to be a shorthand for expressing one’s own gender experience - they reflect an internal gendered truth. However, Japanese pronoun choice doesn’t reflect an “internal truth” of gender. It can signify multiple aspects of your self - gender, sexuality, personality.

For example, 僕 (boku) is used by gay men to communicate that they are bottoms, contrasted with the use of 俺 (ore) by tops. 僕 (boku) may also be used by softer, academic men and boys (in casual contexts - note that many men use 僕 (boku) in more formal contexts) as a personality signifier - maybe to communicate something as simplistic as “I’m not the kind of guy who’s into sports.” 俺 (ore) could be used by a butch lesbian who still strongly identifies as a woman, in order to signify sexuality and an assertive personality. 私 (watashi) may be used by people of all genders to convey professionalism. The list goes on.

I believe this is what’s happening with Utena - she is signifying her rebellion against traditional feminine gender roles with her use of 僕 (boku), but as part of this rebellion, she necessarily must still be a girl. Rather than saying “girls don’t use boku, so I’m not a girl”, her pronoun choice is saying “your conception of femininity is bullshit, girls can use boku too”.

Through translation, gendered assumptions need to be made, sometimes about real people. Remember that he/they, she/her, they/them are purely English linguistic constructs, and don’t correspond directly to one’s gender, just as they don’t correspond directly to the Japanese pronouns one might use. Imagine a scenario where you are translating a news story about a Japanese genderqueer person. The most ethical way to determine what pronouns they would prefer would be to get in contact with them and ask them, right? But what if they don’t speak English? Are you going to have to teach them English, and the nuances of English pronoun choice, before you can translate the piece? That would be ridiculous! It’s simply not a viable option². So you must make a gendered assumption based on all the factors - their Japanese pronoun use (context dependent!), their clothing, the way they present their body, their speech patterns, etc.

If translation is about rewriting the text as if it were originally in the target language, you must also rewrite the gender of those people and characters in the translation. The question you must ask yourself is: How does their gender presentation, which has been tailored to a Japanese-language understanding of gender, correspond to an equivalent English-language understanding of gender? This is an incredibly fraught decision, but nonetheless a necessary one. It’s an unsatisfying dilemma, and one that poignantly exposes the fickle, unstable, culture-dependent nature of gender.

Notes and References

¹ Usually in Japanese, speakers use the person’s name directly to address someone in second or third person

² And has colonialist undertones as a solution if you ask me - “You need to pick English pronouns! You ought to understand your gender through our language!”

Bey, Marquis— 2021 Re: [No Subject]—On Nonbinary Gender

Rose divider taken from this post

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING JEONGHAN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• your boyfriend or your bully? (just kidding he absolutely adores you.)

• he would definitely 100% talk to you in a baby voice.

• he considers staying home and building the most difficult and intricate lego sets a date.

• oh he definitely takes such good care of you.

• another one in which you never have to drive because he always offers to.

• he's honestly the type of person to say no to having an animal. he insists on a pet rock being more than enough (he might let you get a bunny though if you beg hard enough.)

• jeonghan’s the angel on your shoulder, but he’s also the devil on the other.

• would buy you lego flower bouquets instead of real ones. he claims they would last you forever (and they do.)

• he always has your back, even when you're in the wrong. he would probably end up gaslighting the other person easily to get you off the hook (it works every time.)

• he's probably the type of person to trip you in public. 100% laughs at you before helping you up.

• he may cheat in games a lot, but whenever he's up against you, he ALWAYS plays fair.

• he's really into physical affection, but keeps it low-key. normally has an arm around your shoulder or your hand intertwined with his — he tends to kiss your knuckles time to time.

• honestly, the BEST when it come to comforting you. he knows exactly what to say and exactly what to do.

• he would let you play with his hair anytime you want. doesn't care what you do, even if you put it in pig tails. as long as he's getting head scratches, it's whatever.

• he always offers you a bite of his food and insists you eat it even if you don't want it.

• you could tell him absolutely anything and everything and he would never judge you for it.

• late night conversations with him could go on for hours and they're the best.

• jeonghan’s not the type of person to get jealous easily. he's fully confident in not only his looks, but his relationship as well.

• ONE OF THE BEST KISSERS and i stand by that idc.

• his presence is so calming and comforting that it makes it easy to fall asleep whenever you're around him so consider your insomnia cured.

• he's constantly teasing you, but he can read you very well and knows when to back off.

• despite him being a light sleeper, he falls asleep within the blink of an eye whenever he's with you. he calls you his melatonin.

• he will put you on the spot in group settings or just in general because he enjoys when you're flustered.

• he whispers the answer into your ears or which move to make next whenever you're playing a game. you would always end up winning because of this.

• whenever you two argue, he's actually really good at understanding your feelings and communicating. he insists on making up and not going to bed angry at each other.

• y’all would definitely double/triple date with seungcheol, joshua, and their s/o's.

• he's definitely the type to scare the shit out of you after y’all watch a scary movie.

• even though he gets cold easily, if you ever forget your jacket, he will give you his without even thinking about it. don’t even try to argue with him.

• he will always match your excitement with his own, even if he’s grumpy or having a bad day. jeonghan refuses to dull your sparkle.

• he always makes sure there’s a hair tie on his wrist for you (sometimes two so he can have one as well.)

• he is truly one of the best people to talk shit with. if you hate someone, then he hates them too. if you wanna punch someone, well then he sure as hell isn’t holding you back — he’s helping you and drop kicking them.

• he would probably use your shampoo ngl.

• he’s ridiculously good at making eye contact and maintaining it so whenever you’re talking to him, you tend to get butterflies (it’s okay though because this just proves he’s being attentive.)

• he probably has some weird, funny photo of you as his lockscreen, but everytime he looks at his phone he smiles in admiration.

• LAZY DATES. he prefers being in the comfort of your own home and as long as you’re with him, you’re content.

• he would laugh at any joke you make no matter how lame.

• he would indulge in cute little activities you like such as coloring or even playing just dance.

• y’all have weird hobbies together. i’m talking hobbies like going to couples therapy and making the therapist uncomfortable as y’all pretend to be angry over stupid shit when in reality your relationship is perfect. (the look on the therapist’s face when you tell her you’re jealous because of his pet rock is priceless.)

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: edging with sub!higuruma

kinktober masterlist

“I think I hate you.”

You have to laugh at the tortured way in which Hiromi speaks. He’s a mess, hair strewn over his forehead, skin glossed with sweat, cock angry with need.

“That’s not very nice,” you hum, languidly stroking at his cock. You don’t want to go too fast, ruin the awful buildup you’ve been working at. “You should be kinder to the person with your dick in hand.”

Hiromi bites the inside of his cheek. You’ve brought him to the edge three times now just to let his orgasm die the moment it starts to crest. He’d prefer a ruined orgasm at this point—anything other than the torture of denial. He's a hard worked man, stressed, and this is no way to wind down after a particularly hard case.

But god do you feel good; even just your hand, though Hiromi knows he'll be begging for more of you by the end of the night. Your fist squeezes around his cock in a way much like you would if you were riding him instead, soaking him in the mess he makes of you... he can't handle the imagery, his fourth potential orgasm starts to rise in his chest.

Maybe if he doesn't tell you he's going to cum, you won't realise. He thinks on it, focuses on the sweet coos of praise that slip from your lips and enhance his pleasure ten-fold, and groans. God, he wants to be good for you, to experience the sweet reward for doing so. He doesn't want to disappoint, doesn't want to do anything other than please you.

"I'm close," he bites, hating himself for giving in so easy. His chest heaves with each buck of his hips into your hand, he's really chasing a release, and it brings a smile to your lips.

"I know," you say, and Hiromi can feel the god-awful twitch in your hand as you start to slow down your movements.

"No, please—"

"Don't beg," you hum and release his cock entirely; he has half a mind to reach down and stroke himself through a mediocre orgasm to stunt the awful wait. "You're going to cum when I let you cum, baby, begging won't sway me. Just enjoy it."

Enjoy it? Hiromi could laugh, how can he enjoy repeat denial? Even if your hands on him are godlike and he'd rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. Even if he doesn't pick up on how loud he's being, how much he's writhing, how fucking good it really feels. Your Hiromi has a habit of getting stuck in his own head.

That's why he hardly registers it when you're climbing over him and sinking down onto his cock with a sharp gasp. When Hiromi finally catches up to your movements, and he's able to untangle his grip from the sheets to rest on your hips instead, he thinks he's seen heaven.

He's so fucking sensitive, and you feel so good around him—warm and wet and sensual in so many ways your hand just can't compare with. Suddenly, as you roll your hips against him and lean down to kiss at his jaw, he gets it.

"Holy shit." "Told you."

He's barely just come down from his last potential orgasm when he feels another one bubbling in his lower abdomen. He feels ashamed, almost, of how quick he's going to cum now that he's finally inside of you—that is if you let him finish, of course. He knows you told him not to beg but he can't help the string of 'please baby please' that falls from his trembling lips.

You smile against his jaw, press a delicate kiss to his freshly-shaved skin and whisper something in his ear that he'd argue in front of a court is on par with a heavenly commandment. "Cum for me, 'Romi."

Fuck seeing stars, Hiromi's vision is lost on him completely as your words force the most intense orgasm of his life to wrack through him. He feels it in his bones, in his fingertips that dig into your waist, in his lungs that empty themselves of air as he cries a sweet release. He's never cum this hard. He's never cum this much—he's still balls-deep inside of you can can feel his cum being forced out of you and down his thighs.

What could have been a painful five orgasms tonight is rolled into one, and Hiromi is left gasping for air and struggling to keep his thoughts in check as you roll your hips and help him ride out the overbearing pleasure.

"Say it," you tease, and though Hiromi is fucked stupid, he still manages to roll his eyes.

"You were right, I was wrong."

"Good," you hum, and bring your hips up a little just to drop back down on his aching length. "Because you're going to keep still until I cum too."

[crescenthistory]

I saw that you wanted to write the girlies into your fics more often, so I wanted to make a request 8) Can I request a reader x Regulus where reader is crushing BAD on Reggie, and the girlies take it upon themselves to try and do a little matchmaking? I love your work, and your recent Barty fic was AMAZING btw!!!

the girlies<333 oh how i love them and their silly little adventures, thank you for giving me an excuse to write them babes! and for being soso sweet omg you're an angel

Summary: Dorcas has had it with two of her best friends walking on eggshells around each other to avoid their feelings. So, she puts her best meddlers on the case to end it once and for all, and make the idiots kiss.

Words: 5.7k (i am unwell)

Warnings: not proofread, mutual pining believed to be unrequited love, use of y/n, slytherin!fem!reader, background girlies, rosekiller and dorlene, teasing, awkwardness, language, confessions of love, really cliche but makes up for it in sweetness?

Note: who wouldn't be down bad crying at the gym for reggie?

Though you believed being humble was virtuous, you did pride yourself with being a particularly kind person.

Most people in the castle got over well with you, and you had been able to float in and out of all the major friend groups in your year. The self-declared Marauders often ran to hide with you when chased by a consequence in one form or another, and the Hufflepuff quidditch team seemingly adopted you after you cheered them up after their first loss of the season. With all the pressures of Hogwarts and the lives you were soon to embark on afterwards, it was the least you could do to spread some joy, and perhaps receive a bit in return.

At the end of the day, you always came back to your friend group, though – a heap of entangled limbs and snickering, usually found in the same trusted corner of the Slytherin common room. Barty was always in some way or another physically on top of Evan, rarely conventional cuddling positions, while Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by them, preferably braiding someone’s hair. Dorcas would sit on the table or lounge chair, waving her arms emphatically, often hitting either you or her girlfriend Marlene – the one Gryffindor you all collectively accepted – square in the face, multiple times throughout the night.

Oh, how you loved them.

And if their cheers every time you returned to them from your little friendship tours, as Barty called them, were anything to go by – they loved you too.

Then, there was Regulus Black.

The victim of whatever positions Evan and Barty felt like sitting in, as he always sat at the other end of the sofa they inhabited. The calm and collected of the bunch, except for when Dorcas or Barty said something particularly outlandish he just had to argue with. The multitasker, always with a book in hand, whether for personal enjoyment or study-related, somehow devouring them while catching every word around him. The wittiest one, well-timed remarks hitting people – usually Barty – square in the chest.

The object of all your desires.

Because while you were a kind person, and arguably well-liked, Regulus was the one person you never managed to get quite close to. You were in the same little circle of friends, sure, and had been having friendly conversation and banter for the past 7 years. In theory, you know each other like the backs of your hands, but in practice you had never been alone in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he runs off.

It hurt you once upon a time, wondering what was wrong with you to make him seemingly be repelled from you like oil from water. Over the years though, you realised that is just kind of how Regulus operates. There is some reason behind all the mechanics, but they are not for others to know, just him to sulk over, and you have to accept what you’re given until he’s ready to offer more. Though you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was only you he seemed to avoid to that extent. You had to leave it to him to figure it out, you had decided.

You could live with that, but distance unfortunately made your heart grow fonder. Painfully so.

Regulus Black with his gorgeous black curls that have been so soft to the touch every time you have been close to it during your late nights around the fireplace. Regulus Black with his flowy white shirts and silver rings, gleaming in the glow of Hogwarts’s many candles. Regulus Black with his stupidly beautiful laugh whenever one of his friends could withdraw a real one from him, as if fished from the depths of his chest. Regulus Black with his striking grey eyes that you could get lost in, and have embarrassingly so, many a time. Regulus Black with his–

“Y/N would you quit pining for just a second and listen to me!” Dorcas’s exasperated voice cut through your musings, as you looked up at her with a non quizzical hum, only causing her to groan louder.

You were laying on your bed, almost ready for the night, while Dorcas apparently had tried to get through to you from her own bed mere metres from yours. Your best friend was sat on her bedside, hands on her knees as she looked just about ready to tackle you. Lovingly, of course.

“How’d you know I was even thinking about that?” you challenge, but there is no real fight in you as Dorcas’s gaze has already levelled you.

“You think about much else?”

“Rude.”

“Ruder to call him ‘that’. Put some respect on Reggie’s name.” You rolled your eyes, and had to fight the urge to shush her.

“Oh, don’t worry, he can’t hear us all the way from the boys’ dormitories.” 7 years of friendship had taught her almost too much about you.

“Would you stop trying to read my mind?” You climbed over in her bed to give her the attention she so craved. “It’s a bit intense.”

Dorcas flopped down on her back, sighing at nothing in particular. “You love that I know you so well. And someone ought to read your mind, if you’re not going to speak it.”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid,” you teased her, but she kept giving you a narrow stare.

“I simply refuse to believe that.”

“Hey, where’s Marls?” you ask, not necessarily because you missed the blonde and pink haired menace you had come to view as a sister. Mostly just to shift the topic at hand. “Wasn't she supposed to stay the night?”

“Yeah, but she’s running an errand for me.”

“An errand?” You quirked a brow at her, looking over at a clock you kept by your bedside. “12 minutes before curfew?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving you a duh look. Stupid you.

As if on cue, Marlene all but kicked down your door with a grin plastered on her face. “How ya doin’ ladies? I brought friends.” In behind her came Pandora and Lily, smiling a bit more softly, though there was a mischievous glint in Lily’s eyes that could only be a poor habit picked up from a certain Gryffindor bunch.

You gave enthusiastic greetings in return, happy to see your friends, but your brow still furrowed at the unexpected guests. A quick glance at Dorcas, whose lips curled into a grin so innocent that it immediately raised suspicions, only deepened your confusion.

“What’s this about?” you asked, voice laced with curiosity but also a growing sense of foreboding. A roomful of your closest friends this late at night – this had all the hallmarks of an ambush.

“Oh, nothing,” Dorcas said, too casually. She was still sprawled on her back, her eyes half-closed, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips. “We just thought it would be super fun to have a little... chat.”

Pandora was already situated on the floor right in front of you, humming some unfamiliar tune as she twisted her locs absentmindedly, while Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile dancing across her face. Marlene, never one for subtlety, was practically bouncing on the spot, barely containing her excitement.

“A chat?” You narrowed your eyes at them, already sensing that you were the centre of whatever this was. “That everyone knows about beforehand except me? I think that's called an intervention.”

Marlene’s grin widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged, cackling. “Okay, seriously girls. What’s going on?”

Lily stepped forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ve been talking. Well, more like observing.”

“Observing what exactly?” you asked, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. You knew these girls, and you knew when they were up to something.

“More like observing who,” Marlene interjected with a wink, as she casually threw herself onto Dorcas’s bed beside you, almost kicking her girlfriend in the face.

Pandora hummed softly, eyes now trained on her chipping purple nailpolish. “It’s just… you’ve been staring at Regulus like a lovesick puppy for years, and he’s been acting all distant and broody in response. Now that we're in our final year, the harmony should be set right before we all leave.”

You sat up straighter. “I have not–”

“Oh, come off it, Y/N.” Dorcas finally sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “You practically melt every time he so much as glances your way, and we’ve all seen the way you fawn over his hair like it’s spun silk. It’s borderline painful.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it off with a wave of your hand. “I don’t fawn.”

“You do,” Lily said, with the smallest hint of a smirk. “And Regulus? Merlin, that boy has been pining for you for too long. If you're a lovesick puppy, he's a kicked street dog.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “Wait– what?”

Marlene clapped her hands together in delight, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh, darling, it’s so obvious. He’s completely smitten. Why do you think he’s always avoiding you? The boy’s terrified he’ll do something stupid like… I don’t know, confess his undying love for you in front of everyone.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You expected them to give you a get it together speech, not... whatever this is.

“But– but, what, no, he’s always so cold around me. I thought–”

“That’s because he’s a socially inept idiot when it comes to feelings,” Dorcas interjected with a shrug, never one to sugarcoat it, though her voice softened when she took in your confused face. “Look, Regulus has spent his whole life trying to remain in control, but when he's around you he can't. So, if he can’t figure out how to act, he just… doesn’t.”

Lily nodded. “He’s not used to wanting something as much as he wants you.”

"Oh, he would not be happy knowing you're psychoanalysing him like this," you mumbled, mind whirling, to which Marlene and Dorcas just cackled.

Humour at the expense of their friend – what could be better?

You struggled to process this new information. You had left your relationship with Regulus to fate, an open invitation for friendship without pursuing anything more than that. As long as you could admire him from afar, you figured it was enough. The thought that he might have felt the same, but not know how to go about it felt foreign to you. It seemed impossible, and yet, when you thought back, the signs were there. The way his eyes lingered on you just a bit too long when he thought you weren't looking. The way his laughter – rare and beautiful – sounded a little softer, a little more genuine, when you were around. The way he physically ran away from you when you got too close, always some handy excuse ready...

You had chalked it up to his aloofness, to his enigmatic nature. A large part of you, fragile and uncertain, still wanted to.

“I don’t know…” you started, still hesitant. “What if you’re wrong?”

Pandora smiled softly at you, her eyes gentle but firm. “We’re not wrong, Y/N. The stars told me as much. But if your heart needs proof, we’re going to help you get it.”

Your gaze snapped to her, as blood rushed through your head. “Help me… how?”

“That’s the best part!” Marlene all but squealed, bouncing up from the bed and throwing her arm around you. “We’re going to play matchmaker!”

You stared at them, wide-eyed. “What? No! You’re not– no meddling! You’ll make things worse.”

Dorcas just gave you a knowing look, leaning back on her hands. “How can we make things worse if there is nothing at fuck all going on between you right now because you can't get your heads out of your asses?"

"We're friends, Dorcas!"

She sighed, as if you were a child, but gave you a soft look. You think she was trying to be reassuring. "We’re not going to make things worse. We’re going to force you two to face each other, and maybe then you’ll finally stop dancing around your feelings.”

“I don’t–”

“Too late, darling,” Marlene interrupted, her grin wicked. “Plans are already in motion.”

Lily smirked. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

You were about to protest again when Pandora placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Trust us,” she said, her voice a soothing balm against the rising anxiety in your chest. “This is going to work.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. There was no stopping them, you knew that much. Once this group had an idea in their heads, there was no turning back. Still, the thought of whatever they had planned made your stomach twist in both excitement and dread.

Marlene clapped her hands together once more. “Right, first things first. Tomorrow, we’re going to get you two alone.”

“And then what?”

Dorcas’s grin widened. “Then, you’re going to talk to him.”

"Talk?" you repeated, your voice squeaking slightly.

"Yep," Lily said with a satisfied nod. "Just talk."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. Scratch that, not even really a plan. Just the worst I've ever heard."

"You're lashing out 'cause you're scared." Marlene said in a fake-hurt voice, wiping invisible tears from her eyes as Dorcas shoved her.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning with a hundred different emotions.

“Don’t worry, love," Lily almost cooed at you. "We’ll make sure everything goes perfectly.”

"How?"

"We'll see where the day takes us."

Your eyes flitted between the four of them, realising then that there was no getting out of this, and that you were not sure any of you even knew what this was yet.

You let out a groan as you flopped ceremoniously down on the bed, hiding your face in your eyes.

All girls cheered as they knew that was your sound of defeat, and thus their green flag to go crazy.

The next day, your nerves were buzzing like a poorly-executed Cheering Charm gone wrong. The plan – their plan – was apparently in full swing, and you had absolutely no control over it. In fact, your only plan was to somehow avoid being alone with Regulus Black at all costs.

Despite Dorcas's little lecture to you this morning about just ripping the fucking bandaid off love, gosh, you were entirely not on board anymore. Not that you ever were.

You had tried pleading with them again at breakfast, but they had brushed you off with reassuring pats and sly grins, as if your rising panic was nothing but a trivial detail. And so, here you were, pacing in the common room while the rest of the girls casually lounged, casting side glances at you and whispering like they weren’t blatantly scheming.

“Stop fussing, would you,” Marlene drawled, draped across one of the armchairs, looking far too pleased with herself. “We’ve got it all handled.”

“You’ve got nothing handled,” you hissed, feeling the dread creep up your spine. “You’re going to ruin everything. I mean, what if he freaks out? Or worse – what if he laughs at me?”

Lily, who was lounging with a book in her lap, raised an eyebrow over the top of it. “Y/N, Regulus Black doesn’t laugh at anything that isn’t Junior falling down the stairs. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and even if he does freak out,” Dorcas added, casually tossing an apple in the air, “it’s because he’s an emotionally stunted mess, not because he doesn’t like you.”

Your face burned. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“Trust us, Y/N. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure," Marlene groans. "He likes you, okay? He’s just too much of a brooding, melodramatic git to do anything about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but before you could, Pandora, ever the quiet voice of reason, gave you a soft smile. “It’ll be okay. Just be honest. You might be surprised by what he says.”

For half a second you dwelled on the fact that Pandora was the one everyone went to as their little therapist, and maybe her reassurance is not just speculation, as with the other girls.

You didn't allow that second to drag out, lest your head explode.

The sincerity in her voice almost made you believe them, though. Yet the idea of being locked in a room with Regulus, of all people, and forced to confront the swirling mess of emotions you had been harbouring for years? That was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” you said, backing toward the door in a desperate attempt to flee. “Maybe we should just–"

Dorcas was quicker than she looked. She slid in front of the exit, blocking your escape route with a triumphant grin. “Nope. You’re staying put.”

Before you could make a break for it, Marlene hopped to her feet, suddenly all business. “Right. It’s time. Pandora, Lily, you ready?”

“Ready,” they both said in unison, as if this were a Quidditch match and not the absolute destruction of your sanity.

“Wait– what’s happening?” you asked, voice rising with panic.

“We’re just going to have a little chat with Regulus,” Lily said with a wink, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Should only take a minute.”

You watched in horror as the three of them sauntered out of the common room, leaving you in a state of rising dread. Dorcas remained blocking the door, arms crossed and a gleam of determination in her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, trying one last desperate appeal to her better nature.

“Oh, I really think I do,” she replied with a grin. “Now, be a good sport. You’ll thank me later.”

Dorcas with her quidditch strength, picked you up and carried you to your dormitory despite your many loud protests. She practically shoved you inside, landing awkwardly on the floor, heart pounding in your chest.

“Just… read something and try to relax,” Dorcas called over her shoulder, slamming the door shut behind you. “We’ll handle everything.”

“Dorcas!” you yelped, but she was already gone.

You groaned, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto one of the beds, grabbing a random book from the bedside table in a futile attempt to calm your racing thoughts. It didn’t help.

Not even five minutes later, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the door, accompanied by hushed whispers that made your stomach drop.

“Marlene, what are you up to?” you muttered to yourself, sinking lower into the bed. You barely had time to brace yourself before Marlene’s voice echoed from the hallway, far too chipper for the situation.

“Oh, Reggie!” she called out in a sing-song voice that was dripping with false innocence. "I think I saw the creature run in here!"

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. No, no, no–

“In behind this... closed door?” came Regulus’s unmistakable voice, low and suspicious. There was always something about his tone, that subtle roughness to his otherwise smooth words, that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ugh, yes, please go fetch it,” Lily chimed in, her tone too casual to be convincing.

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel Regulus’s confusion through the door. “In the girls’s dormitory?” His voice was flat, unimpressed. "Can't you guys?"

"No, you're the one who got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures. Please."

They couldn't be serious. What a master plan.

“It's important, Reg,” Pandora added, ever so softly, but with an edge of persistence that could sway anyone who wasn’t keen on questioning her.

There was another pause, and you held your breath. You could picture Regulus now – his sharp, silver eyes narrowing, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, his brain probably piecing together that whatever this was, it wasn’t something he should agree to. Not even Regulus is immune to charm and coercion from his friends though –and he probably couldn’t fathom the idea of Marlene calling for his help if it weren’t truly necessary – and you clearly heard his reluctant sigh through the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, footsteps nearing the door.

You had just enough time to consider how humiliating it would be to try and throw yourself out the window, but alas, Hogwarts windows didn’t accommodate such escapes.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, looking like the very embodiment of a storm in human form, all brooding energy and understated elegance. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, his usual pristine appearance marred just enough by the casual looseness of his shirt collar, which somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on you and widening slightly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, have you seen–"

Before you could answer or before he could even finish his sentence – slam. The door shut behind him with a loud click, the lock snapping into place.

Regulus’s head whipped around, his hand immediately going to the doorknob, shaking it lightly. “What the bloody hell?”

You watched in horror as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Marlene’s faint, gleeful laughter.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.

Regulus sighed deeply, his hand dropping from the door. He turned back to you, jaw tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "That makes two of us," he said, having clearly heard you across the room that felt increasingly smaller.

You laughed lowly, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming this beast was part of some master plan.”

You nodded, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, pretty much.”

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that felt both unbearably awkward and strangely charged. Regulus stayed by the door, leaning against it as though contemplating whether he could somehow break through it with sheer willpower. You, meanwhile, sat on the bed with your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape the mess your friends had created.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded but curious. “You don’t… know what this is about, do you?”

You tried to swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the book like it might anchor you to reality. “I have a guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in that way that made him look even more imposing. “And?”

“And,” you echoed, your voice faltering under the weight of what you were about to say, “they seem to think that locking us in a room together is the perfect opportunity for us to, uh… talk.”

Regulus let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned his back fully against the door. “Talk. Of course. That sounds exactly like something Marlene would come up with.”

There was a pause, and his gaze, which had flickered away momentarily, settled on you again. You could swear his eyes softened ever so slightly as they swept over you – taking in the awkward way you sat on the bed, your hands still gripping the book like it was a lifeline. You noticed the way his shoulders, usually squared with tension, seemed to relax just a fraction, as though being here, with you, wasn’t as unbearable as you had feared.

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to find something to say. “So… what were you reading?”

“Oh, uh…” You squinted at the title, stifling a laughter as you realised what it was. “It’s, um… Hogwarts, A History.”

Regulus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? You’re reading that?”

Your face heated even more, and you quickly abandoned the book, tossing it to the side. “Okay, no. I was trying to look busy while panicking over the fact that I was about to be locked in a room with you.”

"You knew?"

"I got a small warning after I was thrown in here."

"By Dorcas or Marlene?" he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes because he knew you meant it literally.

"Dorcas."

He hummed in approval before his brows furrowed, as if registering your whole conversation, and he took a step closer, his usual guarded exterior slipping just a bit. “Why would that make you panic?”

The one question you didn’t have a safe answer for. You could feel your heart racing again, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something soft and searching in his gaze, that made it impossible to retreat.

You swallowed hard. “Because… I don't know. You’re Regulus Black.”

The words came out in a rush, like they explained everything, and to you, they did. Regulus, though, just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice low but noticeably not cold. “Why would my family matter?”

You laughed nervously, standing up from the bed as if that might help calm the chaotic swirl of emotions in your chest. “Not your family. You. Regulus. You’re just... you. You’re smart and brilliant and intimidatingly beautiful and–” You stopped yourself, suddenly horrified by the direction your rant was going. “And it just didn’t seem like you’d ever want to be stuck in a room with me.”

Regulus blinked, his posture stiffening as if your words had physically hit him. For a moment, the usual cool facade he wore cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“You think I don’t want to be around you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of disbelief in it.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, yeah. You always seem so distant when I’m around. Like you can’t wait to get away.”

Regulus was silent for a moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “That’s not because I don’t want to be around you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate, like he was unsure of what he was doing for the first time in his life. “I… avoid you because I don’t know how to be around you without making a fool of myself.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his confession. “What?”

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at this – at feelings. At talking, like the girls wanted. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. I keep my distance.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of disbelief and hope rising in your throat. “Regulus…”

He met your gaze, and for the first time in the years you had known him, you felt as if you actually saw him in his eyes. The real him.

“I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath catch, his words sinking into your chest and settling there, warm and heavy. It was as if the entire world had shifted in that moment, the tension between you now a living, breathing thing, pulsing with the weight of everything left unsaid.

"L– liked me?"

Regulus couldn't do anything but nod.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, stepping closer until you were just a breath away from him. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, his eyes flickering down to your lips for the briefest second before he caught himself, jaw tightening.

“Regulus,” you whispered, the world narrowing to just the space between you. “I’ve liked you too. For so long.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, eyes wild.

He didn’t respond with words – he didn’t have to. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you, his hands gently cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was tentative, as if both of you were still testing the waters of something too fragile to fully comprehend. Regulus’s hands, cool but steady, cradled your face with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. The rest of the world faded away – your racing thoughts, your anxieties, the locked door behind you – none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just him. It had always been him.

As the kiss deepened, Regulus’s usual restraint seemed to dissolve, replaced by something raw and urgent. His fingers curled against your skin, one hand suddenly on the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You felt his heart beating against your chest, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

It was everything you had imagined, everything you needed.

You melted into him, lips, body and soul, before you pulled away breathless. The room felt impossibly still around you.

You were both standing there, eyes wide, inches apart, as if neither of you could quite believe what had just happened. Regulus’s lips were still parted, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, as though he was trying to memorise everything about this moment.

"Do you mean it?" he murmured. You felt his lips brush yours as he spoke.

You didn't need to ask what he meant. Instead you whispered a passionate yes before kissing him again, lingering against him. You could feel him begin to smile against you.

"This is not what I expected to come out of this," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Regulus let out a breathless chuckle, one that sounded almost surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “I can't say I did either.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I’m not complaining.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no uncertainty hanging between you. Just you and Regulus, and the quiet realisation that maybe, just maybe, all those years of longing and misunderstanding had led you exactly where you were meant to be.

You were about to say something – something witty, maybe, to break the tension – but then–

BANG!

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that both you and Regulus jumped apart, your heads whipping toward the entrance just in time to see Marlene, Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora tumble inside, practically tripping over each other in their mad dash to get through the door.

“There they are!” Marlene shouted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She pointed dramatically at the two of you, looking like she had just witnessed the Quidditch World Cup. “I told you it would work!”

Lily snorted, pushing past Marlene and raising an eyebrow as she glanced between you and Regulus, both still slightly dishevelled and very much caught in the act. “Honestly, Marlene, you could have given them a few more minutes.”

You groaned, heat rushing to your face as you buried it in your hands. “Were you all just waiting outside the entire time?”

Pandora gave you an apologetic smile, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It made her look all the more like Evan. “We were just… keeping an eye on things.”

Regulus, who had taken a deliberate step back when the door burst open, gravitated slightly more towards you again as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you lot talked me into this.” For all intents and purposes he looked exasperated – but his lips twitched in amusement.

“Oh, don’t act like you hated it,” Dorcas teased. “You’re welcome for the facilitation by the way.”

“Facilitation?” Regulus repeated, his voice dry as he glanced around the room full of over-enthusiastic matchmakers. “That’s one word for it.”

Marlene was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have no words for how pleased I am with myself right now.”

"Evidently." You and Dorcas chorused at the same time, causing you both to giggle, though you tried to stifle it.

“You’re all completely insufferable," you said through an ever-growing smile.

“And yet,” Marlene drawled, throwing an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders, “you love us anyway.”

Regulus caught your eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation and the embarrassment of being ambushed by your meddlesome friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. His lips quirked up in that rare, almost-hidden smile he reserved for moments like this.

“Alright, alright,” Lily said, clapping her hands together as if trying to herd a group of first-years. “Now that this mission is accomplished –” she shot a pointed look at you and Regulus, “– we should probably leave them alone.”

Marlene looked like she was about to protest, but Pandora nudged her toward the door. “Give them some space.”

As they filed out, Marlene shot you one last wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I expect all the juicy details later.”

You groaned again, shaking your head as they finally disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing faintly behind them. When the door closed with a soft thud, the room seemed impossibly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the corner.

You turned back to Regulus, who was watching you with a look that was both amused and affectionate, his usual mask of indifference nowhere to be found. He stepped closer to you, arms circling around your waist.

"Your friends are idiots," he said with no real malice in his tone.

"Yeah, but so are we."

In privacy with you, Regulus's smile widened in a way that made your stomach flip, as he leaned in for another kiss.

[kingtomura]

From Water to Wine

summary: It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, established relationship, smut with plot, lots of plot, jealousy, insecurity, hurt/comfort, oral (f! receiving), make up sx, confessions, a ton of kissing, not sorry, toxic environments, piv, overstim, creampie, begging, bad parental figures, toxic parenting, mdni

wc: 9.4k | crossposted to ao3 | part 4 of the strict parents au (one, two, three)

If someone had asked you a year ago where you saw yourself right now, you would have given them a million different answers. 

None of them involved your current reality. 

You would have never thought you would be right here, right now — in your boyfriend’s shabby basement drinking with his friends while they smoked and argued about the latest game releases.

And they were an interesting set of friends. 

“Bullshit, what the hell do you even know about games?” Tomura spat, pointing a finger and splashing a bit of beer from the bottle he held in his hand. 

The one you’ve come to know as Dabi just smiles that same grin that makes Tomura’s eye twitch in irritation and shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, not my fault some of us prefer first person shooters.” 

The conversation between them carries on and you find your mind drifting away — way too focused on the way Tomura has his arm wrapped around you with his free hand pressed against your hip, pulling you closer and making your cheeks flush deeper than what the alcohol already has. 

You like when he gets this way — a little louder and a little looser with his words. It's all a precursor to what will happen tonight, when he’s a little rougher and presses into you so much deeper. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you find yourself lost in the thought, biting your lip and watching the way Tomura’s heavy lidded eyes narrow as he focuses on his argument with Dabi. 

You can’t help but stare when he gets like this, the gleam of fire in his eye when he argues, never backing down when he knows he’s right. 

It’s alluring.

The giddy feeling you have only grows and you know its because tonight Tomura will fuck you in a way he only does when his grin is a little too wide and his eyes are a little too low. 

You feel more emboldened and your words are looser when it’s like this. Eager to speak up in the argument, defending Tomura against Dabi’s quips and its fun. 

It’s different to be able to speak so freely around people who would never judge you like your old stuck up friends would have. They all came from good families who have high expectations. Anything outside of the normal would be mocked and expelled. 

You feel so free here. 

With Tomura — with all of them. 

“Whatever you say, freak.”

“I'm sure it takes one to know one.” You shoot back and the room breaks out in laughter, even Dabi holds up his hands in surrender. 

The smug grin you wore only widened as Tomura leaned in and kissed your temple, proud that you can hold your own against the biggest smartass in the room. 

Himiko stands from her place on the couch with Spinner, laugh dying down, but smile remaining on her face. “Wow, Tomura, I like her way better than your other girl.”

You feel your grin slide off of your face as fast as it had arrived.

Other girl?

Tomura has never mentioned another girl besides you. 

The concerning comment makes your mind race with endless possibilities, the cycle only being broken as Himiko announces her departure, unaware of the inner turmoil she’s just thrown upon you.

“Jin doesn't like when I stay out too late so I’ll see you all later!” Her voice is high and chipper as she bounces towards the door.

“Hey, tell your brother don’t forget what he owes me, crazy girl!” Dabi yells after her, Himiko only returning a small wave and exiting the room. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, only being broken as Spinner dies in his game of Mario Kart, too drunk to focus, but all the more determined to win. 

“Damn it!” His frustration breaks through as he stands to his feet, “I almost had it!”

Dabi nods, clearly unbothered by the outburst and walking over to him, “work on it next time. It's getting late and I'm tired.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Spinner asks a little too loud, his intoxicated state more obvious as the minutes went on.

Dabi only shrugs, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him to the door. “Can’t let you walk home like this and risk getting snatched up now can I, princess?” 

You vaguely register Spinner’s retort as Dabi throws a hand up in a wave and leaves as well, leaving only you and Tomura in the room. 

What would have been exciting has become a weight in your stomach, leaving a pit of dread as your mind raced with Himiko’s words. 

Some other girl. Someone before you. A girl who’s already met his friends, who has already been in your place. It brings a different kind of feeling to your mind that you’ve never really experienced. 

The only thing that grounds you is Tomura’s shuffling as he stands and kisses your forehead. 

It’s as if that one kiss dispelled the thoughts poisoning your mind and replaced them with the warm feeling you usually have when it comes to Tomura. The feeling that is only heightened by the strong sensation of alcohol. 

You unsteadily trail behind him as he laces his fingers in yours and leads you out of the room and towards his. 

The path is a familiar one and the giddy feeling returns as you race through the familiar corridors with him. 

His home feels like a maze and the alcohol makes everything feel so much more fun. Your giggles and hurried footsteps are the only thing echoing throughout the halls as you chase behind him, eager to reach his room and come undone under his familiar touch.

Tomura has a habit of surprising you, though. 

You blame the alcohol for your dulled senses as you don’t expect him to stop before his bedroom, turning to press you into the corridor wall. A small gasp leaves you at the impact and you don’t have time to react before Tomura is gripping your thighs, hiking you up against the wall and pressing you so much closer.

The whimper that escapes your lips would embarrass you any other day, but today you can’t bring yourself to care. It only spurs Tomura on as he presses forward, kissing you with a fever you hadn’t expected him to be withholding. The urgency of the kiss only shows you how much he may have been holding back during the get together. 

You let out a soft moan as Tomura bites your lower lip, only to soothe it with his slick tongue in the next moment. Your arms wrap around his neck as you tilt your head, desperately seeking more of him as this heated endeavor grows with every passing moment. 

His hands travel up your thighs and along your sides, gripping anything and everything he could, pressing his clothed erection closer to your core and giving you more needed friction as he grinds against you. 

The way his hands slip under your shirt and massage your breasts makes you gasp again and Tomura takes this opportunity to press kisses along the column of your neck, loving the way he can finally leave as many marks as he wants. 

You’re in his home — there were no rules against marks. There were no rules at all. 

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling as Tomura licks and kisses along your neck, burying your hand in his ashen locks and weakly rutting your hips against his, craving more of him in any way possible. 

“So needy,” he breathes against you and you have to bite back a whine at his low tone. 

Tomura has you right where he wants you and it’s obvious. The more you ached for it, the more he would drag it out to tease you. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to rip the shorts off of you and take you right here, but you know it’s not that easy. 

“T-Tomura…” you try to keep it together, show him that you can be coherent even with the fuzz of alcohol muddling your mind. 

He pinches a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, this time drawing a yelp that you just couldn’t contain. 

His low chuckle reverberates against your neck, sending shivers all the way to your spine as slick between your thighs is beginning to soak through the material of your panties. 

“So sensitive, baby… you’d think I've been denying you.”

But you can’t help it. You wish you could cry out to him that your body just reacts like that for him, but you didn’t trust anything to fall from your lips besides a moan, so instead you keep quiet and hope he would give in to you sooner rather than later. 

Tomura trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, and then ultimately back to your soft lips, enjoying the feel of them against his. You knew this was always his favorite part. 

It was soft, it was intimate, and it was yours. 

Yours…

Your brows furrow at an unwanted thought, but you press on — pulling Tomura closer and flicking your tongue against his lips, knowing he would pull closer and deepen the kiss. 

He does and you’re grateful. 

The way his tongue dominates your mouth makes you mewl into the kiss. A welcome distraction from your increasingly loud thoughts. 

Tomura groans, bringing a hand down lower and lower until he reaches your clothed cunt. His finger presses against the thin fabric of the shorts, testing the waters of your sensitivity and loving the reaction he received in return. 

His touch makes your breath hitch, the feeling alleviating a bit of pressure that's been building up deep within you. 

You need more of it.

He pulls away again, trailing those soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck once more. It’s something that would usually make your heart flutter, but right now your mind is beginning to trail off, again. 

It’s the idea of your boyfriend with some other girl that haunts you. Someone before you. Her hands on his, doing the things you’ve grown to love with the boy you—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t want to think right now. You just want to feel. You just want Tomura to take you and make you feel good so you can stop fucking thinking—

“Hey.” 

Tomura’s sharp tone snaps you from your spiraling thoughts, bringing you back to reality. 

“What’s going on?” His voice is rough, as it usually is, but he is not frustrated. The narrowed glare in his eyes would make anyone else believe he was irritated, but not you. 

You know Tomura’s expressions like the back of your hand. He’s worried.

“I..” you pause, words lost on your tongue. What could you say? Jealousy is an ugly trait to have. “What do you mean?”

Tomura doesn’t buy your feigned ignorance. 

He pulls away further to get a better look at you, his hands resting on your thighs, the soothing motion of them tenderly rubbing up and down the exposed area makes you want to relax under his touch. 

“Why are you distracted?”

Your eyes cut to the side and you turn your head, unable to meet his ruby red gaze. The fear of admitting something as petty as jealousy eats at you. 

“I’m not.” You mutter, the lie not fooling your own ears. You’d be naive to think it would work on the one who taught you how to lie in the first place. 

It's clear he could see right through you and your eyes close at the soft touch of his hand along your chin, turning your head back to face him.

His eyes soften when they finally meet yours — the action is so slight you almost miss it. 

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement of the obvious, but you still bring yourself to nod, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and hoping you could bite it hard enough to taste the iron of blood. Anything to distract you from the white hot humiliation that this conversation will bring to you. “Why?”

You inhale, knowing Tomura is not the type to let it go. Knowing he would keep you here all night if he had to so that you would speak your mind. 

“Himiko…” you mutter, dropping your eyes once more as the threat of tears begin to form along your waterline. 

“Himiko?” The complete confusion in his voice makes you more upset, he probably didn’t even remember what she’d said. 

“What she said earlier,” your voice wavers at your words and your defeat is imminent. The tears have already broken their bounds and began to trail down your cheeks. Embarrassment be damned. “About your.. Your ex.”

You could practically see the cogs turn in his head as he recounted tonight's events — the alcohol no doubt impairing his reflexes. 

His expression only makes the pit of anxiety in your gut grow, tight, but clearly showing signs of unease, “Oh, that.”

You nod, confirmation stinging. 

“That was someone I dated in highschool. Back when I was a teenager for three months.” His gentle hand moves from your chin to your cheek, wiping the falling tears from your flushed cheeks. “I don’t even think she lives in Kamino anymore, and I don't care. Haven’t cared in years. It’s why we broke up.”

Your heart still feels heavy with the weight of jealousy as Tomura comforts you. It's a bitter emotion that you know you have no right to feel. This was all before you, it shouldn’t matter. 

Even though you don’t meet his eyes, Tomura lets you down — your toes touching the cold hardwood of the hallway floor as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

It’s soft and it’s sweet in ways you know Tomura only reserves just for you.

“C’mon, lets go to bed,” he takes your hand in his, leading you to the bedroom you’ve grown to know so well. “I’m exhausted.” 

And your heart beats in tandem with your steps as you make your way to the bed, your tears dried up as Tomura pulls you close, the warm embrace so much more soothing than you’d expected. 

It takes no time for your eyes to close — your mind drifting off to sleep as the weight of your heavy heart is lifted by Tomura’s touch. 

—---------------

There’s a window near Tomura’s bed. 

It's big and it gives you the best view when the weather is dark and rainy. It also has a secret gift of shining the morning sunlight directly in your face and waking you up. Something that Tomura had remedied for himself by covering the window with blackout curtains. 

You believe that one of you forgot to pull the curtain last night because the warm light of the sun’s rays cause you to stir from your sleep. 

No, that can be ignored. 

Something else is causing you to stir.

Something is making your brows furrow and your hips writhe as your lips part to pant at the feeling taking your breath away.

“W-what..” you mutter as you try to blink the sleep from your eyes, hand reaching down to investigate.

Your fingers meet the soft tresses of Tomura’s familiar locks just as his tongue makes direct contact with your clit, the feeling sending the wave of pleasure up your spine and causing you to cry out.

“Tomura..!” you cry weakly as you bury your fingers in his hair, back arching from the bed as he becomes more intentional with his actions, the excitement of waking you this way showing in his efforts. 

You gasp as Tomura’s skilled tongue flicks against your sensitive bud, his hands coming forward to hold your hips in place as he relaxes against your soaked cunt — lazily lapping at your entrance as you struggle to keep yourself together.

It’s effortless, the way he pushes your body to come apart, knowing you were still fighting the remnants of sleep and fully indulging in your pleasure. 

He gives your clit a soft kiss before moving to readjust on the bed, spreading your thighs wider as he watches your expression — his lips are glossy with saliva and slick, a small string of the mixture connecting him to your exposed cunt. 

Tomura has seen you in many different ways, in many different situations, but to be here, exposed before him so intimately makes you want to shy away. It makes you want to look away and you bashfully attempt to close your legs. 

If you were to keep going this way you may say some things you weren’t sure either of you were ready to hear. 

You blame it on the morning fuzz in your brain. 

There was no other explanation for the strong feelings you had within. The way they bubble along the surface of your words at every moment spent with Tomura. You know if you go longer with these feelings unchecked they would threaten to spill out and over — possibly tainting the comfort of your relationship with Tomura. 

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the lewd way Tomura laps at your cunt, moaning into you as the slick muscle of his tongue pushes you further and further to your end.

Tomura is watching your every move, his carmine eyes observing the way your hips twitch at the sensations, the way you breath hitches as he sucks on your clit — everything. 

You can’t help but fall into the pleasure. 

Coming undone is inevitable.

You toss your head to the side, the building pressure in your abdomen causing your thighs to tense as your hand finds his soft locks once more. The grip you had on his hair was nothing short of painful with the way you held on, but Tomura took it in stride, groaning at the rough treatment. 

He’s always liked when you were rougher with him. 

“F-fuck, Tomura, I can’t—” your words are slurred as his tongue glides against your clit, the sensitivity heighented as your mind rushes with the strong feelings that have plagued you for months.

You gasp as the budding realization hits you like a tidal wave. 

Your eyes clenched shut as the pleasure takes you over and under, dragging your muddled mind along as you come undone with Tomura’s touch. 

It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Your body shivers as you reach the end, climax overtaking you while Tomura makes it his mission to make a complete mess of you — only stopping when your twitches of pleasure begin to meld into overstimulation, causing your hand to weakly push his head away.

There were tears lining your vision as Tomura brought himself back up to meet you, slick lips seeking yours and you hungrily greet him, unbothered by your own taste gracing your tongue as you languidly lick into his mouth. 

Your mind buzzed in the afterglow of an early morning orgasm and the idea of getting more from him entices you.

So much so that it makes you question why he hasn’t taken it further. 

Instead, Tomura pulls away, granting you one more kiss before lying down on his side of the bed, his words beating you to the question that awaited on your tongue.

“Headache,” he supplies as you turn towards him, the morning sunlight from the window illuminates his pale tresses in an almost pastel hue — hair so white it almost looks blue. You want to reach out and touch him. “I drank more than I thought last night and arguing with Dabi doesn’t help.”

Your heart tugs at the memory, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you’ve grown to love those late weekend nights with Tomura’s friends. 

“I can bring you some water,” you offer, moving to stand. Maybe a little space would be good, it will give you a minute to think about the all consuming feelings that have flooded all parts of your mind this morning. “And some meds, too.”

Tomura hums in appreciation, turning over to face away from the sun.

You take that as your cue to go, but not before grabbing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of panties. Kurogiri shouldn’t be up at this time, but it would still be odd to walk around Tomura’s home naked. 

The trek to the kitchen is a short one and you waste no time grabbing an empty glass and some medication. 

Kurogiri was adamant about using one of those fancy water purifiers so it’s no surprise when you’ve fully distracted yourself, filling the glass and focusing your attention on the stream of water pouring from the refrigerator’s water dispenser. 

It’s so distracting that you don’t notice the presence behind you. 

“Oh, what’s this?” A deep voice behind you muses, catching your attention. The sound startles you so suddenly that you almost drop the glass of water. “Playing house now, are we?”

That doesn’t sound like Kurogiri, your thoughts race as you slowly turn to meet the mysterious voice of the man in question. 

He is… intimidating. 

He stands no less than twice your height with ashen hair that rivals Tomura’s. His eyes are even the same deep crimson of the boy you’ve grown to know so well. He eyes you with a tight smile, never straying from your gaze.

This must be—

“Are you Tomura’s friend?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, but you will yourself to speak. If this is who you think it is then it would be a bad idea to leave an impression worse than what you already have. “Yes.”

“I see. Would you be a dear and fetch him for me? I have a few words for him.” His tone is solid — even. 

You couldn’t make out how he felt in this moment if you tried. The small smile on his face seems pleasant, but given the circumstances of a half naked girl in what you can only assume to be his home really brings you no peace. 

So you nod again, hurrying off with the glass of water in your hand, forgoing the medicine and only wanting to be as far away from that man as possible. Something about him strikes fear into you. 

Tomura is in the same spot you left him before your kitchen adventure, but he cracks an eye open at the sound of you closing his bedroom door with a little too much force.

“What’s wrong?” he drags, turning over to face you and squinting as he gets hit directly in the face by the sun’s rays. You should really close that curtain soon.

The walk to him is short and you hand him the glass of water, bottom lip worried between your teeth as you search your mind for the right words.

“Someone’s here.” You didn’t mean to opt for an ominous choice, but you had no other idea what to say. Tomura has never talked about his parents. 

“What?”

“There’s a man in the kitchen. He wants to see you.”

This seems to click for Tomura as his eyes narrow for a second and then widen, ever so slightly, at the realization. 

You don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He sucks his teeth, taking the glass from your hand and downing the water as you watch on. Tomura seems calm, but he also has a very good poker face. If this is his parent then you’re not sure how long you would be able to stay.

The idea of going back makes you shiver. 

No, that’s not really an option. 

Tomura moves to stand, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and shirt, frustration evident in the way he tosses his clothes on. 

He gives you one more turn, words tight and brows downturned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod as he exits, leaving you alone in the silence of his bedroom. The beaming sun seems more comfortable than before, the warm rays dance along your skin as you play through every scenario that could come from their talk.

He could make you leave. 

That's the first and most obvious way to handle this situation. You know that your parents would never in a million years allow someone to stay under their roof with their daughter. It’s unheard of. 

Or worse, he could call your parents. 

You’ve gone completely no contact at this point and it wouldn’t be too much of a farfetched idea that this man would call them. Especially if Tomura tells him about your situation in full.

But… he could be a nice guy.

This could all be a big misunderstanding and blow over, if given enough time. This is more of a pipedream than a genuine idea, but you would go crazy if you only thought of the negatives. 

You don’t realize you’ve been pacing the room until you almost trip over a discarded shirt on Tomura’s floor. It stops you in your tracks and makes you look around to assess the state of his room. 

It's not perfect and it definitely needed work when you moved in, but it’s not terrible. 

You turn back to the door, as if Tomura would come bursting through with updates of the conversation at hand, but no. nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. 

The quiet of the room drives you crazy — there has to be something you can do.

It starts off small, picking up a few loose articles of clothing here and there, and then it delves into picking up empty drink cans, making the bed, and even sorting the mess of his closet. All in the name of passing time. 

By the time Tomura made his way back to the room, you have the space nearly spotless. He takes note, but refrains from commenting. Instead his next words shock you.

“He said you can stay.”

Your brows furrow. “I can?”

Tomura only nods, making his way back to his newly made bed and lying down once more, no doubt due to the headache still pounding against his skull. 

“That’s it?” you press — this all feels too easy. 

“Yeah, just wear pants more often.” He waves you off, turning over and gearing up to go back to sleep.

The comment makes your cheeks burn and you nod, even though Tomura can’t see it. 

It feels odd, especially knowing your parents would never allow this, but you suppose not everyone lived under such strict conditions. 

So instead, you push that uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut aside and climb into bed with Tomura.

His steady breathing is calming and the rhythmic sound helps you drift off as well, unable to shake the lingering of suspicion and uncertainty, ebbing away in the back of your mind.

—-----------

You’ve come to learn that Tomura is actually quite busy during the day. 

He is currently gearing up to go to his internship at the hospital, and it’s been taking up a chunk of his time lately. For a couple months he’s had a break from it since the doctor he had worked under was taking time away, but now he’s back and he wants Tomura to be busier than ever.

It’s not that you mind. Of course you knew Tomura’s life couldn’t revolve around you, but it still left you with not very much to do. 

On the days he has to go, you stay at home — your attention hopping from playing video games on his pc, to reading books then eventually cleaning. 

It's given you a lot of time to think about what you want for your own career. You’ve started to think long and hard about how you envision your future. The reason you were home from college in the first place was because you needed the time to think.

But now you have nothing but time and it feels even more stressful.

The thought of having to decide your entire future on a whim is daunting. 

What if you didn’t like where you were in five years? Could you start over? 

Would Tomura still be by your side?

That possibility catches you off guard as you stop in your tracks.  

Would he be by your side? 

You’ve never been in a relationship at all, especially not a long term one. You were all in, but how does Tomura feel? Would it be odd to ask? 

The plaguing thoughts seem to take root in your mind as you walk through the halls of Tomura’s home, hoping to find something to occupy your time and chase these feelings away. 

You think of the basement, it’s where the other gaming systems were set up and it’s also a good change of scenery. 

Yeah, that would take your mind off of it. 

Or it would have.

As you set your sights on the hallway that leads to the basement, there's a voice that catches your attention. It’s deep and ever so calm, even when strained by the words being spoken.

“That's not good enough. I told you to keep him there as much as you can.” The voice hisses to the person on the other line of what you can assume is a phone call. 

You stop in your tracks, just before you could pass the door of the room Shigaraki Senior was speaking from. Instead you listen in, putting your back to the wall beside the door and zoning in on his words.

“I don’t care how fast he tries to get the work done — he’s only doing that to get home sooner.” He pauses and takes a breath, frustration imminent. “I need them apart. He won't listen to me about it, but the sooner he gets bored of her, the better. I don’t have time for his little distractions.”

You have to bite back a gasp as the words ring in your ears. 

A distraction..? You knew it was too good to be true. 

“Right,” the voice carries on, calling your attention once more, “I understand, but if he is to be the next me he cannot afford to get sidetracked.”

You haven’t had much of a chance to get to know the head of the household, instead preferring to stick by Tomura and make yourself as unobtrusive as possible. 

It felt as though you were walking on eggshells. As if you were in an orientation period and any misstep would lead to you tossed out onto the street — you would be food for the wolves.

But you knew deep down that there was always something to worry about. It was too good to be true, yes, but you couldn’t understand why he was letting you stay anyway.

There's a lull in the conversation before it picks up again.

“I suppose…”  The man’s voice sounds like it's getting closer and you take that as your cue to go back to Tomura’s room — but not before you catch the sound of his parting words. “It seems I'll just have to try harder then, hm?”

You don't know what kind of games this man was going to play but you knew one thing.

You had to tell Tomura. 

—-----------

It doesn't go well.

“No, Tomura, I heard him,” you whisper, the harsh sound of your voice cutting through the dark room, the curtains blocking the light of the incoming dawn as Tomura began getting ready for another day at the hospital, “talking about us.” 

You look down, arms crossed and defensive. “He wants us to break up — and he thinks you’ll do it on your own.”

Tomura’s expression is a mix of shock and disbelief, probably unsure of why his father would ever want him to break up with someone who brings him so much joy.

“No, there’s no way.”

“I’m telling the truth.” you plead, putting on your best voice of reason.

“He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.” His tone is snappy, clearly ready for this conversation to end. 

But you persist. “Why would I lie?” 

“I don’t know — why would you?” He shoots back and the retort makes your ears perk. 

“I would never lie to you, Tomura, I—”

“Just stop,” he holds up his hand and the shock of it makes halt in your tracks. You’ve never seen him this agitated, or irate. “You don’t even know him.” 

But I don't have to know him, the words echo in your mind, stuck on your tongue as you watch Tomura continue, one hand to his neck as he etched his bad habit into his skin. 

He was starting to spiral. 

“You’re not even giving him a chance! I know he wouldn’t do that — he cares about me! He's the only one who—” Tomura stops himself, frustration leading him down avenues you don't think he’s walked in years.

You reach a hand out, aiming to comfort his ravenous habit, aching to tell him what’s really been eating away at your emotions for the last few weeks, but Tomura only scowls, the harsh look so intense it makes you snatch your hand back.

He’s never looked at you with such disdain before.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later.” His tone is final as he turns towards the door and you watch as he takes a breath to calm himself down, lowering his hand from his now redded neck.

Your chest feels tight, words fighting on your tongue to admit what you’d been holding within. It’s eating you up inside how strong these feelings were. “Tomura, wait— I didn't mean to upset you.”

He pays you a glance, expression neutral and features school back to their default calm. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more in the room that you’ve both begun to grow into. The desperate feeling in your chest fights for your undivided attention and you're beginning to wonder how long you can keep it at bay. 

—----------

The night doesn’t feel any better. 

Tomura’s return brings the tension from this morning and you’re positive he didn’t have the best day during his internship. It pushes the pressure between you further.

The air feels thick as you both move about in his room — you, scanning the books along his bookshelf for another manga to read, and Tomura on the floor with his notes from the day spread out in front of him. 

Luckily for you, Tomura breaks the silence. 

“There’s a dinner tonight — my father wants us both there.”

This piques your interest, eyes darting to his tense form. “Like a fancy dinner?”

Tomura shakes his head, adjusting the papers below with a bit too much force. He takes one flyer and balls it up, tossing it into the trash can near his desk as if the paper offended him. It’s crumpled, but you can still make out the words: Almighty Medicine.

“No, it’s just with us. Kurogiri will cook.” He pauses, features pensive as he decides his next words. “He wants to get to know you.”

Your heart sinks. 

It sounds like a trap. 

But you really didn’t want a repeat of this morning, so instead you suck it up and nod — even though Tomura couldn't see you. His gaze was completely focused on the papers below. His shoulders were stiff as he slouched to halfheartedly read the notes. You debate giving him some kind of massage to ease the edge.

You refrain, choosing to wait it out a bit more. The last thing you want is to stress him even more before the last minute dinner. 

So with a resigned sigh you answer, “Okay.” 

—---------

Kurogiri is a good cook.

It's the only thought in your mind as you absently stare at the food plated before you. Dinner tonight was filled with flavorful meats and vibrant vegetables. The rice was a perfect accent to the other options and any other time you would find yourself eager to dig in. 

But not tonight. 

No, tonight you can’t seem to find your appetite. 

You only push your cabbage back and forth with your chopsticks and await the inevitable questions you're sure Shigaraki Senior will ask.

“Tomura,” his baritone voice breaks the silence and you focus more on your cabbage, “you seem tense. What’s the matter.”

There’s a pause, and Shigaraki Senior’s faux friendly demeanor is not lost on you. “I saw that asshole again today. His face pisses me off.”

His father frowns. “Yes, well. That’s just business. When you’re over the company you won’t have to see him—“

“That’s not the problem!” Tomura cuts him off and you hold your breath, you could never raise your voice at home, “He leads his hospital and he’s a provider.”

“And that is not the path I have laid out for you.” The words are calm and collected, no hint of malice or anger. It’s eerily calm. 

 “Yeah, whatever. When are you going on that business trip again?” Tomura snaps.

The tension in the air is suffocating, it's thick and it's tense. It makes you want to run away, your feet anxiously tapping as you will yourself to bite down the uneasy feeling. 

The slow smile that creeps its way onto his father’s face makes your skin crawl. “You know, I believe I have more important matters to handle here at our home and in our town.”

“Great.” The sarcasm is evident in Tomura’s voice, dripping into the already strained air. 

“Well, that’s enough about our family matters... how about you, young lady.” His sharp eyes catch yours and you feel like a deer in headlights. “How are your parents? Do they know you’re here with my boy?”

You feel struck by his words, the pang in your stomach reverberating through your body as you scramble to find the words to answer him. “Well—”

“They’re aware.” Tomura cuts you off, his glare is ice as he places his chopsticks down and leans back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

It seemed to be a challenge, one you are not prepared to back him up on. 

You were never a good liar. 

His father’s attention is snapped back to Tomura and you were sure anyone else would falter under that glare. 

“Really? If it were my boy off staying with some young girl I would want to at least get to know the one who’s paying the bills.”

He only shrugs in response, false air of disinterest apparent as he picks his chopsticks up again, picking away at his food once more. “Well it’s a good thing she isn’t your child then, huh.”

You think the conversation is over — that Tomura has successfully dodged this bullet and you will be allowed a peaceful dinner, but things were never that easy for you. 

“I think we should give them a call, hm? If she’s staying in my home I want to make sure they know all the details.”

You watch Tomura’s fingers twitch, irritation threatening to explode and you can’t help but think that’s exactly what his father wants to see. 

It’s toxic, in a whole new way. 

“Fine,” Tomura surprises you, your eyes cut to his stiff form, “since you’re so worried why don’t you go ahead and do it. I don’t get why you care so much anyway.”

His father seems unimpressed — that smile and those chilling eyes frighten you, it makes your blood feel like ice in your veins. “You’re right, Tomura. I shouldn’t care. And you know what? I won’t.”

You both look up, dumbfounded. 

“I won’t care unless you both give me a reason to care. How does that sound?” 

It sounds fantastic, in theory, but you know that it doesn’t matter how it sounds. 

It’s blackmail. 

The reality of the situation hits you then and there. 

Tomura is combative with his father because he can be.

“I think that’s a fair trade, don't you, Tomura?”

But only to a certain extent. 

Your eyes dart between the two of them as the weight of his words set in. Tomura is forced to comply — agree to his fathers terms or else. This is a battlefield you aren't familiar with — one of mind games and bad faith practices. 

It is naive to think Shigaraki Senior will be sensible in what he decides are good reasons.

Your time here was limited.

The end of dinner was as stressful as its start: tense, awkward and very foreboding. 

The stress of it all had Tomura pacing his room while you helplessly sat on the bed fighting the urge to tell him I told you so — that would help no one here. 

“This is bullshit!” he starts, the frustration of his thoughts coming to a head and spilling out. “Give me a reason, yeah, whatever.” 

Your brows furrow as you watch Tomura vent, his bitter words hanging in the air as you purse your lips — trying and failing to come up with any kind of solution for your situation. 

“And why does it even matter that you're here? He’s hardly here anyway!” The perturbing scratching habit has made its return and this time you do stand to your feet, marching over to where Tomura paced and taking his hand. 

As upsetting as this situation was, you knew that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if tomura destroyed himself in the process of understanding his father’s true intentions. 

“Hey,” you try, reaching for his hand and refusing to back down this time. “We’ll figure something out.”

You’re surprised when he lets you, his carmine eyes lock with yours as his ever present scowl remains unchanged. “Yeah, like what?”

You try to ignore the cross tone in his voice, opting to just hold his hand and try again. You're beginning to realize this is uncharted territory for both of you. 

“I don’t know, who was the guy you saw at your internship? The one who runs the other hospital and all? Maybe you could ask how he—”

“I am not doing that.” Tomura cuts you off, voice even more agitated.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you ignore his tone. You squeeze his hand instead, still trying to remain calm. “But you never know, Tomura. Maybe he could help you—”

“No! Why would I ask him of all people?” He snatches his hand away and you realize you’ve struck a nerve. 

This wouldn’t end well.

“You don’t even know who he is, you don’t know what he’s done!” His voice begins to rise and you wonder if he’s aware of the hurt lining his words. There is a hidden history in this mystery man that Tomura has foregone informing you of. 

You’re beginning to recognize a pattern — something about that fact gets under your skin. 

“Maybe I would if you actually told me anything about your life, Tomura! You’ve barely let me in at all!” 

And it’s true. 

You knew nothing about his father, he doesn't talk to you about his internship and you don’t even know who this mystery super provider is. You’ve been in the dark for a while and you’re tired of it. 

“And why should I do that?” He questions, becoming more and more defensive as the conversation carries on. “So you can use it against me?”

“What?” you gasp, baffled by his accusation. “Why would I ever do that?”

“I don’t know! Why else would you fucking care?”

“I care because I love you, dumbass!”

Both of you freeze. 

You didn’t want it to come out this way. 

You wanted the confession to be one of candied words and hushed whispers. You wanted it to be slow and romantic, maybe while Tomura was deep inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you see stars. 

But things were never ordinary when you were dating a man like Tomura Shigaraki. 

In that moment you realize that maybe this was something you were willing to learn to live with. 

“What,” Tomura’s voice is low as if speaking louder would shatter the still air within the room, “what did you just say?”

Your breath hitches, the buzz of anxiety and anticipation makes you hesitate. “I said.. I love you, Tomura.”

He takes a step forward, it’s slow but sure. You remain stagnant and still. 

“Say it again.”

You do. 

“I love you, Tomura.” The words are warm as they leave your lips and now he stands before you, his height forcing you to look up at him. 

His carmine eyes shine with unbridled fervor that seems to be itching to make itself known. 

You want to see him lose control. 

So with a slow smile, you gear up to say it again, “I love y—“

You’re cut off by the press of Tomura’s lips against yours and the desperation in it pushes you back. Tomura is fast, pulling you closer to stop you from losing your balance. You feel lightweight as you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

It’s intoxicating the way he maneuvers you, the way he makes you melt into the kiss, desperate for more — and he gives it to you. 

His hands trail up your sides and back down to grip your ass. The action makes you gasp and Tomura wastes no time taking advantage of the opportunity, his tongue dominating your mouth as the heat between your thighs grows. 

You moan into the kiss and lean forward as Tomura begins to pull away. 

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he gazes down at you, lazy grin on his face. 

There isn’t much time to mull over what Tomura was thinking, he takes your confusion in stride, using the opportunity to push you back, bottom landing onto the bed and bouncing once with the force of impact. 

Before you can speak, Tomura is on you, lips against yours and pushing you down onto his dark sheets. You bring a hand to those familiar pale locks and close your eyes — allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling and finally release the pent up energy of your emotions. 

Tomura is quick, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts and dragging them down with your panties in tow and leaving you exposed before him. 

You gasp at the gentle touch of his index finger slipping between your slick folds and going no further.

“Tomura…” you try, pulling away from the kiss and hoping the hunger in your voice would be enough for him to continue.

He only gazes at you, eyes half lidded yet vibrant. You’re sure he’s put you in a trance.

“Say it again.” 

“I love you.” you breathe and then gasp as he finally touches you. 

His finger is gentle as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, the action makes your head feel fuzzy as the pleasure begins to rise. 

Tomura leans forward to press kisses against the column of your neck, nipping and sucking along the soft flesh — no doubt trying to leave deep marks into your skin. 

“Mm!” you squeeze your eyes shut as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to his movements and slowly bringing you closer to the edge. Tomura is steady with his hands, he knows your body so well. From the inside and out so he knows that if he continues at this pace you would come undone way before you wanted to. 

Maybe that's what he was aiming for. 

His other hand is warm as he cups your breast, tweaking a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, knowing it drives you crazy. You feel dizzy as his fingers leave your clit and travel lower to your entrance, pressing not one, but two fingers inside and chuckling at your whine.

“What?” he teases, pumping the digits in and out as you writhe beneath him, “too much?”

You want to shake your head, tell him no, and that it's never too much when it comes to him, but the only thing you can manage is a pathetic whimper as you grip his dark shirt. “Please, Tomura.” 

“Please, what?” you can feel his grin against your neck as he places another open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “You gotta talk to me, baby.”

“T-touch me,” you plead. 

He moves up so that he’s eye to eye with you once more. The grin on his face was just as you imagined it, smug and excited. “I am touching you.”

You close your eyes again, knowing exactly what he wants you to say. “Make me feel good, Tomura. Please.”

He likes that answer, you can tell by the way his eyes soften and his fingers twitch ever so slightly within you. 

Tomura leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss once more as he moves his fingers with purpose, his thumb now pressing against your clit as the sensation grows.

It's hard to contain your cries, but you try. His fathers words echoing in the back of your mind — the possibility of loud sex with his son being a reason to kick you out almost makes you laugh.

At this point it would probably be worth it. 

“F-fuck,” you breathe as you lean into the feeling, your eyes flutter closed as you bring Tomura closer. Your peak is so, so close you can almost taste it.

Tomura would tease you any other time. He would try to drag it out in an attempt to see you squirm, but tonight he’s being so kind. He is so generous as he brushes against that spot inside that drives you crazy. He does it over and over again, making your toes curl in pleasure as the euphoric feeling takes you over the edge. 

The elation of your orgasm makes you shiver and cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you lose yourself in him. 

Tomura presses another kiss to your sweet lips, swallowing your moans as you cum on his fingers, soaking the digits in your slick and trembling in pleasure, 

Once you come down from your high Tomura is quick to remove his clothes and you follow his lead, finally removing your shirt. 

The feeling of his warm chest against yours is always so comforting. It brings a feeling of safety and security as he presses against you, his cock rock hard and dripping from the excitement earlier. 

He places a chaste kiss against your lips as he rubs the head of his cock between your slick folds, the glide is smooth and you gasp every time he brushes against your clit. Your hands find his soft locks again as you begin to move in tandem with his actions, trying to get more of the feeling as best you can. 

At this, Tomura pulls away, kiss swollen lips red and eyes soft, his words hold no bite, “Desperate, huh?” 

You nod, in no mood to tease back and Tomura can tell. He feels it in the way you look at him, so he presses his forehead against yours, his pale locks falling against your cheeks. 

“Again, tell it to me again.”

And you know what he’s talking about. You’re both so close, chest to chest and you swore your hearts were beating in tandem.

“I love you, Tomura.” you whisper and it's for his ears only.

Tomura groans, closing his eyes with a soft grin on his lips.

“Fuck…” he breathes against you, and that’s all it takes as he presses into you. The stretch of his cock makes you wince, but the smooth slick of your arousal helps him slide in with ease. 

You hold on and allow Tomura to anchor you as he pushes forward, desperate to give you everything he can. 

He bottoms out with a sigh, filling you completely as you bite your lip in anticipation — the pressure of feeling full is addictive. It doesn't take Tomura long to move, his eagerness impossible to hide as he pulls back, almost pulling out, and drives forward, rough and desperate.

It’s everything you've wanted and your body is greedy as you take in all of him. 

“Yes, Tomura!” You fight to keep your voice down but it proves impossible as Tomura sets a brutal pace, fucking out every ounce of tension he’s held within for the past few days. You can feel it as it unravels with each and every trust. 

Tomura adjusts ever so slightly and that's all it takes for him to hit that special place inside of you. 

“A-ah!” You moan underneath him, ripples of pleasure cascading up your spine as his sharp assault on your sensitive spot carries on. The consistent sparks of pleasure have your brows furrowed and legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to pull him closer, to feel him deeper. 

“Fuck,” Tomura mumbles and his low tone makes you shiver. 

You know that you won't last much longer if he keeps this up, but you give up trying to hold back. You cannot stop the way your cries spill from your lips, echoing against the walls of Tomura’s bedroom and mixing with the sound of his urgent trusts.

The lewd noises rise as your cunt drips with arousal against Tomura’s push and pull thrusts. His heavy balls slap against your ass with the force of them and you close your eyes, falling into the rhythm. 

You dont expect it when it happens, but it comes all the same — your orgasm takes you under, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy capturing your mind as your lover fucks you through it. 

He groans at the sensations, the way your cunt squeezes him almost sends him over with you, but he holds on.

Tomura lowers himself, slowing down as you ride out your high and his lips are close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he starts and you feel his hips stutter as he tries to regain his pace, sending you into overstimulation. Tomura knows you can take it — and he can’t stop now. He was so close to his peak. “L-love you.. So much..” 

The words make your eyes widen, they are soft and slow as if unspoken for years and you can’t help but wonder how many. 

“Tomura..” you whisper as you turn your head, craving his lips and his gaze. 

Your eyes meet and you feel synced as you bring a hand down to his cheek, your heart racing as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, you love him. Truly and deeply, you love Tomura. 

He pushes forward, capturing your lips in a kiss as his thrusts grow more erratic, hungry for his own release as he groans against your lips. 

It doesn’t take long — Tomura gives a few more strong thrusts and meets his end, cumming inside of you with a mewl that you drink up. The twitch of his cock is subtle but the pearly white ropes fill you to the brim, leaving you ruined and raw as he pumps it as deeply as he could.

Tomura pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Sweaty and sated you both try to catch your breath. 

His bedroom is quiet and still, making you both feel as though you were the only two in the world. You know that it is deep into the night and Tomura would still have to wake up early in the morning, but you know none of that matters to him.

No, Tomura couldn't care less as shares this moment with you, the stress finally expelled from his body and the weight lifted from his mind. 

His carmine eyes hold you captive as you melt into them and you realize then that you can’t see yourself anywhere but here — with Tomura. 

It's a chilling realization. 

Once you’ve both gathered your bearings and Tomura pulls out — taking his rightful place beside you, the overwhelming pull of sleep drags you along. 

Tomura leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead with whispers of goodnight and his newly relaxed demeanor is contagious. 

You know that you may be on borrowed time with him here, but that's okay.

Your eyes catch the crumpled flyer hanging near the trashcan by his desk, the words Almighty Medicine big and bold on the paper.

The feeling of sleep is heavy in your body, but your last thoughts are of a plan. 

You know there’s a way out of here. 

For both of you.

[knavesflames]

hiii el! :D u may know me from ur messages a bit ago (PLS I SUCK AT USING TECHNOLOGY AND I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ASK A QUESTION) but i wanted to ask for u to write maybe just some like cute morning arle fluff? sorry if it’s a bad ask 😞

also, could i be 🩵 anon?

Hi <3 of course you can! It is NOT a bad ask, I’ve been meaning to write a lil bit of fluff anyway. I was quite excited to write this :’) enjoy!!

Content: fluff, arlecchino is soft and tired

Word count: 1.1k

Utc <3

People say that once you get used to sleeping next to someone, it becomes impossible to sleep alone. You thought it would be the opposite. You enjoyed sleeping alone, preferred it, even. You like the space to move and roll around and you like to wrap the blankets around you to form you into a burrito-like shape. It became somewhat of a joke between friends that when you finally did find a partner, you’d end up sleeping in separate beds. Secretly, you agreed.

For Arlecchino, nobody assumed she’d even find a partner. The woman is so closed off with her feelings that one wonders if she even had any, if they died along with her best friend and Mother so many years ago. When the topic of relationships was brought up (seldom as it was to even get past the first two sentences- she would shut it down before anyone could get anything out of her), her excuses were dismissive, claims of work taking precedence over any interpersonal relationships, claims of the not-so-secret but somehow very-secret project the Fatui are working on, and her biggest excuse yet- the children. “The children need a stable figure to guide them as they grow. Relationships are most definitely not stable. It does not teach them how to fight. Sorrow and anger make you weak, yes, but I would argue that love makes you defenceless.” would be a sentence she uttered often.

Of course, that was not the only reason. Processing what had happened to the people close to her is something she neglected to do, and she does not need to be haunted further by yet another shadow, or even worse, another conscious body following her around the way Clervie had, whether as a manifestation of her bloodfire, or a manifestation of her conscience rearing its head when she had worked so hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. Love is not something she should get herself involved in, she has told herself time and time again. She has stared into the mirror an endless number of times, both as a newly appointed Father and more recently, when she finds herself alone. Her priority has always been the children, and she refused herself the privilege of living comfortably. Until you, obviously.

When you first began sleeping next to each other, you had been dating for a while. It took a while for her to even let you into her house. You seem to notice that her house has the faint smell of citrus. Lime, perhaps. You wonder where it comes from, but you assume it's some sort of air freshener. When you first began occasionally sleeping over, her touches were few and far between. Not in any malicious way, of course, but almost like she was restraining herself. You were too, in a way, not wanting to overstep any silent boundaries she had set. It was an awkward time.

Now, though, after a long period of time of getting her to open up, she clings to you like a moth to a flame. Case in point, this morning. You wake up to the soft light entering your room, filtered by the curtains covering the glass. The first thing you notice other than the light is a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your middle, clutching you and keeping you close. You let your hand gently move across the marred skin, feeling each scar and muscle of the arm holding you so tightly. A face is buried into the back of your neck, gentle breath tickling the skin, and displacing the hair there. Arlecchino’s body is warm, warmer than the normal person's body would be due to the balefire that courses through her veins. You try (and fail) to escape from her grasp with a little wriggle, but her arms only pull you closer, her voice coming out hoarse and gravelly.

“Stay,” she mumbles into your hair. “It’s early. There isn’t a need to get ready for the day yet.”

“I have to, there’s so much to do today.” you yawn, twisting your body to face her. Your arms snake around her, one under her neck and one around her waist. There’s sleepiness in her dark eyes, and she looks up at you groggily. She looks vulnerable like this, and you think she’s almost smiling. Almost. She groans slightly as she stretches out, her muscles rippling as she does so. Arlecchino’s face buries back into you soon after, and her grip on you doesn’t loosen in the slightest. One of your hands comes to gently caress the waterfall of snow white hair, occasionally painted with black streaks (and the one red one she touches up every six weeks), massaging the scalp and gently scratching whenever she lets out a soft sigh.

“You smell good.”

“I just woke up, I’m not sure there’s much to smell.”

“That may be the point. You do not need to put on any fragrance, I enjoy the scent of you. Just you.”

“You say, as if you don’t fill your home with the scent of limes. Limes, of all things.”

“That is not what we are conversing about. We are conversing about you, not some citrus fruit.”

You can’t the small chuckle that seems to escape your lips. She’s so soft like this, you think, you can barely believe her status in the Fatui (you’d forget entirely if it wasn’t for the glint of the dagger placed deliberately on her nightstand. She says it’s for your protection- you know she had it there before, too, but now she has a reason to keep it there). Her nails, filed to perfection, trace circles on your back, and her free hand pulls your thigh over her hip, bringing you as close as you can possibly get.

“Must you go? Surely, you can push back any arrangements you have today and stay with me a little longer.”

“You know I can’t, and neither can you. Do you not have that meeting?”

“Yes. With some other Fatui, but none of them are worth my time when you’re here. They mean nothing to me. You mean everything.”

“That is why I'll be here tonight. You can hold me again.”

You find yourself reassuring her a lot that you won’t disappear. You don’t mind. Eventually, after five minutes of pretend bickering, you relent to ten more minutes before she drags herself out of bed. By the time she’s changed from her pyjamas into her usual suit, her hair brushed and pinned back into her signature ponytail, any trace of the sleepy, clingy Arlecchino is gone. What remains is a stoic, unreadable woman who lovingly kisses your forehead before she leaves, a slight plea in her voice when she tells you: “See you tonight.”

[wandagcre]

drive you mad (part 2) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You had enough of your complicated relationship with Sam. You’re trying out new coping mechanisms to move on, but sadly, even going on a date with another person didn’t make things better. However, your best friend had too many tricks under her sleeve, willing to try them all to have you again.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, fluff, some of sam's daddy issues, possessive sex, strap-on, subdrop, jealous sam, breeding kink, blow job, dubcon(?), humiliation, fake cum, praise, edging, implied size difference, mentions of violence and stalking, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, just a lot of reader and sam fucking like rabbits omg, not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 18k+ Note: BEAR WITH ME. I am aware of how much of a lengthy (wink wink) last part this is but I swear things are looking good ;) hope everyone enjoys it!

[ LAST PART of TWO | Previous ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

Apparently, the worst thing that can happen is that your date for tonight shares few similarities with Sam.

You try to be humoured with how it started with your same friend again, it’s like she simply knew what your type was. Your date's name was Lucy and while she didn’t possess the tanned skin that you loved; she was still taller than you, her mother tongue happens to also be Spanish, and she also had an attractive set of thick eyebrows. 

The resemblance in terms of characteristics was uncanny.

At first it felt foreign to you to dive into an established romantic date after a while. Besides the comparisons that your brain kept making, you were also unsure if any of the ones with Sam actually counts. 

Nonetheless, it's been so long since you’ve been into one, you feel like a newborn learning to walk.

To Lucy’s credit, it was an enjoyable experience. She was considerate of your taste, threw you compliments that weren't only out of politeness, and preferred that the two of you decide which place you’ll be more comfortable in. Lucy was specific and admittedly it helped, because you had the tendency to be indecisive. She was chatty and at times it was comical with how she told you little stories that genuinely made you laugh as you dined in an Italian restaurant.

Lucy also took you to an arcade that recently opened. It was creating quite a buzz around, based on how you constantly see teenagers flock enthusiastically in the area. 

Surrounded with glowing lights and bold, colorful neon signs, packed with a variety of games you haven't even seen before. The place was indeed inviting for you to let loose.

“This is cliché. But in a good way. I haven’t been in a place like this for a while now,” you look up to your date who had an unwavering smile.

“See! Clichés can be good! Opens the forgotten memory you once enjoyed.” Lucy beamed at you. “What’s your favorite game to play? I’d have to say I’m great at these things, so we’re totally going to win something by the end!”

“Even the claw machines?” You jab playfully at Lucy's confidence. “Aren't they always rigged? I believe just the same since I never won anything from those things.”

“Can't argue with that. Sometimes it's all about the timing and well, other times, all rigged business as you say. Lucky for you, I happen to be good at this stuff!" Lucy stretched her hands outward, comically, cracking her neck muscles as well. 

You can’t help but snort at the sight. Nerves were slightly put into ease, because tonight was going well. She won you a dolphin stuffed toy and she definitely hard carried the gunning zombie game of two players, where Lucy amusingly acted out as though she was in real despair with your character constantly dying. You had a great time.

Even if Sam continued to ebb in your mind. 

“Lucy, thanks for tonight.” She opened the car door for you and you exhaled with relief because you did enjoy her company. “I had a lot of fun, even if I kept dying on those two player games.”

She leaned on her car, Lucy’s look remained at you. “I did too. I was happy to be accompanied by a beautiful date. Totally worth the coins! But do know that I don’t mind if we do this again…” she extended her hand to yours, silently asking for permission if you’d let her hold you, which you accepted. “And I also won’t mind if you say no. I’ll be a bit bummed, sure, but I can handle it.”

You sense Lucy's nervousness as she fiddles with your hands, head looking down while sporting an upturned mouth. You’re still wearing the jean jacket she lent you from earlier, and insisted that you needed it more because she can handle the cold breeze better.

You loathed to think that maybe, if a specific woman didn’t occupy your mind and body this much—maybe—you’d get a better shot with the lovely woman right in front of you.

“I appreciate how you’ve been so good to me all night,” you tighten your hold, it was softer than what you were looking for. Unaccustomed to the calloused hands you have grown to love over the past few months.

“I sense that there’s a but…”

Then all of a sudden, your phone rings.

It was the devil herself. 

Sam.

Retrieving your phone from your purse, you stared at the screen for a few seconds. Not even debating if you should answer, simply frozen that Sam is calling you. She wasn’t the caller type, knowing that she liked to give head's up before anything. So you thought it must’ve been an emergency if she was this insistent.

Worry filled you. Yet, you don't trust yourself to answer right away, knowing you were bound to embarrass yourself or worse; be easily pulled in by Sam's sweet nothings. She was your weak spot, your ability to say no vanishes with ease.

Taking a peek at your notifications, it only shocked you, seeing that Sam was bombarding you the whole evening. They were sweet first, her usual cheery self, until they got cold for some reason. You stifle an uneasy grimace—hating how this was confusing you to no end.

Pocketing the phone back, you had no energy for this tonight. There’s no escaping this situation or this woman, really. Why did you think it was a good idea in the first place? You decide on calling Sam the next day to get things over with. 

“Are you okay? I don’t mind if you’re going to answer that,” Lucy asks with a comforting smile, gesturing at your phone that rang for the second time.

You shake your head, trying to compose yourself. 

The ringing eventually stopped.

“No. Uh, where was I?” You clear your throat. She looks at you expectantly. “Again, Lucy, it’s been nice. But I think for now all I can handle is… friendship.” you answer in a heartbeat and for a moment, your date was crestfallen at your answer. “But you’re right, you know. Cliches can be nice. I never thought I actually needed this.” It was genuine; not a mere attempt of cheering her up. You didn’t realize until now how you needed to unwind in a way that wasn’t discrete nor foreign.

After a few beats of silence, the woman nodded, perhaps she has accepted her fate for tonight. Lucy bounced back to her unaffected and cheery disposition. Before parting ways, she surprisingly left a soft kiss on your cheek, almost at the corner of your lips. 

“I’m content with the fact that I managed to change your mind over one thing.” Lucy quips and shoots you a playful wink.

You were still blushing at the sudden action but you didn't quip at it, giving back her jacket. “Thank you really. For keeping me warm and making this night wonderful.” Lucy says and waves goodbye one last time to you with a toothy smile on her face. 

Standing from the pavement in front of your apartment, your eyes follow your date’s car as it drives farther away from you. Still stunned and occupied with your own thoughts, you pay no mind to the roaring engine in the streets, at this late hour—thinking it was one of the many overbearing and supercilious owners that likes to boast of their possession.

You rolled your eyes internally, and immediately headed to your apartment. Reaching your room, maybe the only thing you've cleaned up was your hands. Nothing had felt good for the past few days—work was demanding. Sam kept blowing up your phone, but she didn't make any move to come and see you and that bothered you still. 

Even if this date was the most normal you've felt tonight, the exhaustion easily took over your body.

The paranoia comes in waves, surprising you every now and then. Because sometimes, you felt as though eyes were on you.

Mind drifting to Sam again, you wonder what could she be up to these days. What could’ve been the reason for her to call you out of nowhere. Has she missed you this much? Your heart flutters at the thought.

Was it a good thing? To avoid Sam this long even with her small attempts of reaching out?

Of course, it wasn’t. You idiot. Taking off your boots with a resigned sigh, you lazily placed them on the floor. The plushie was still on your other hand and you plopped the dolphin stuffed toy next to you in bed. It was easy to get lost as you laid all comfortable on warm sheets and cold pillows—you're off to la-la-land, dozing off completely into a dreamless state. As your body relaxed, you found it odd how all of a sudden it smells like chemical. 

It was strong and vivid for your taste, that even if your brain sends a jolt of panic, you are numbed—unable to move nor wake up. 

Like a terrible nightmare, it seemingly paralyzed you until you blacked out again and you didn’t have any more time to analyze it further. 

::

How many hours has it been? 

You worry that you’ll miss work. Disoriented, you feel yourself starting to wake up with eyes calibrating as they open. It smells different, though it’s more pleasant; earthly and flowery than the blur of chemical induced you've experienced before. Was it a dream? Your heart started racing—this is definitely not your bedroom. The mattress was softer than yours, the layers of sheets felt gentle against your skin. Not to mention you didn't have this amount of pillows underneath your head, like you were some sort of royalty. The bed was too wide for your limbs that were acquainted with the minimal space you were used to. Then it clicks to you; you are definitely in a different place. 

But wait. 

You've been here before.

In your hazy sight, you yanked on your forearm as your wrists felt oddly sore and prickling your nerves, only to find out the restraints that kept you for god knows how many hours. Your breathing pattern started racing—attempting to shake off the handcuffs. It was tight. You were still wearing your flowy dress as you glanced at your body.

"Good morning, mi amor." says the deep voice that rattled you.

Your sight makes out a figure of a person standing in front of you, ominous, yet had an amused look on her face.

How did you get in here? Into Sam's room?

"Sam? What—?" you rasped out weakly. "I don't… what is this?"

Sam had the audacity to smile through her little contraption. You poor sweet thing, she had anticipated many things; first comes the confusion. 

She’s wearing your favorite shirt, worn out and tightly fitted to her body. With how Sam is built, you fear that the fabric will rip if she keeps on moving. It’s the same one you've lost during senior year and luckily for Sam, she found it in her room during one of your sleepovers and upon finding them, she had no intentions of returning it to you. The timing was perfect, she carried this piece of you as her father left her with no choice but to move away from your town then. Sam stood barefoot and her legs were covered with her silk sleepwear.

"Hush, It's okay, you're okay. You’re safe with me, (y/n/n)." Sam cooed as she sauntered your way, the bed dipping as she gently straddled your legs. It’s the same softly spoken tone you heard many times before, but Sam's actions remain to perplex you. "Relax, you’re at home—with me."

Then comes the panic.

You huff out frustratedly, "What home are you talking about? This isn't my– it isn't–! Fuck, I need you to uncuff me!” with gritted teeth, you try to kick your feet and legs in the air in protest. You didn’t like being forced into this. It was simply insane. Because either way, you were hopelessly drawn and possibly in love with Sam—enough to comply with whatever she desired.

Your wrists tug on the restraints again making them clink against the headboard and to no avail, you weren't able to loosen them up. It was a genuine pair of handcuffs. This wasn't a prank. The terror rapidly coursed through your veins, much more now that you can't move your legs as well, being trapped in Sam's weight.

"But you're with me. I've told you before, I missed having you, I even repeatedly begged you to come back home. You belong here with me."

Sam had wanted to do this hours ago—missing to be in your proximity, evading your space fully. But she knew it'll suffocate you and she couldn't risk putting her favorite pretty girl into a worse spiral of panic attack.

"No, no, no... I was with- this wasn't where I went right after Lucy... I- I got home, my house and I remember sleeping on my bed," Surely you aren't mad. You can recall the events step-by-step, hence this current situation you're in has left you confused. "How did I get here?"

"First, no mentioning of other women when I'm with you. Or ever at all." Sam breaks out a growl. When you gasp, she holds your jaw, tilting them up. Her hold onto you shifts, thumb now soothed your cheeks gently, wiping away the tears you were unknowingly shedding out of panic. "I had to do it my way, mi amor. I'm sorry."

And it swiftly shifts to anger. 

A snarl breaks out of you in the midst of panic. 

But oh, Sam could never hurt you.

"What the fuck is your way, Samantha?!"

Sam believed that you only need a little more push—convincing how perfect the two of you are together. After all, she has waited for you for so long and had expected that your reunion was enough to prove that. She has been so good to you. Sam thought; why did you have to look for more? She can give you everything.

"This right here." Sam quipped airily, a teasing look written on her face. "The last time you were in my bed... you were eager to leave. And you did, abruptly and odd, when I first thought of it. Then, you didn't plan on returning at all. That hurt me so much, (y/n/n)." Sam's gaze changed to hurt, head tilted as the intensity of her doe-eyes bore into yours.

Guilt prickled on your side. While you disapprove of Sam's ways, maybe you could have prevented it—this. Confronted her after what you found out. She's a friend first that you cherished before being entangled intimately. After all, communication also goes both ways. 

"So, you basically took me? Handcuffed me, too. This is kidnapping, you know I could—"

"Report me? If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time. These cops are sloppy and way too easy. But still, they do make a good ear and connection for me, I must say."

You gasp at her implication. You should have expected it.

"Unbelievable. You've gone crazy, Samantha."

Sam shifted her weight, locking your hips with her thighs. Your breath hitched at the force, much more when you felt something hard poking at your pelvis.

"I hate it when you call me that. You're pushing it, baby. First you ignored me and your solution was to go and date someone else? I thought I made myself clear that I didn't like sharing you with anyone else, (y/n/n)?"

You blinked rapidly.

"It- It wasn't like that—"

"No? If it weren't for Tara and Martin giving me a heads up, you would've invited that girl to your house, wouldn't you?" Sam uttered with gritted teeth, "She must’ve done it to spite me. The nerve to leave a lipstick stain on your pretty face, tell me, did she kiss you?" Her thumb swiped your bottom lip, as if to erase the remains of what once laid in there, then up to your cheek but much more firmer than this time. 

Sam was already debating ways on how she will dispose of this Lucy you speak of. Her eyebrows now furrowed and the loving eyes were ripped off, anger fixated on the red mark on your soft cheek.

"What? I don't—no, no, Sam. I'm telling you, it was just a simple date. We only ate at this restaurant and—what does your sister and men have to do with this?" you asked, growing confused even more.

If you loathed how defensive you were, Sam however, took immense pride in it. It just meant that you still cared for her feelings. So, there was something indeed. She wasn’t being delusional all this time—like her father distastefully implied.

Sam cowered onto you lower, her dark hair curtained as you were underneath her. 

"Tara's wife owns the restaurant that you visited last night. As for Martin, well, I ordered him to call me in case something happened. Imagine my surprise when they both did."

He was following this whole time. That explained one of your conundrums of feeling eyes on you these days.

"You've been following me around?"

Sam was immovable, unphased by your words. She didn’t confirm nor deny your implication.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Come on, love — it's me." The pad of her fingertips trace on your features feather-like. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Haven't I made that very clear?" 

You scoffed at her nonchalance. "See, I would have believed you if you didn't take me unwillingly out of my apartment and cuffed me in your bedpost!"

"But I've always wanted to see you tied up like this. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I can recall you getting all flustered when I brought it up before. Wasn't it a confirmation on your end?" Sam had her pearly teeth clamped on her bottom lip. As she dropped the words, your cheeks grew hot. "Call this... me reading between the lines." Sam husked out right on your ear.

"Samantha, you are something else." A strained voice weakly comes out of you. 

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

You rolled your eyes. "'course you will."

Sam hiked up your dress further, exposing your undies. You squirmed at being exposed and she smacked the side of your thigh in return. You yelped as it stung in your skin, throwing your head to the side of the pillow.

"Now, don't put up that attitude with me princesa."

It was embarrassing enough how you're affected with Sam and her way with words. Were you damp in the southern part? She has to stop and not pry further with her advances—or else she'll never live it down.

"I just don't understand how you were so insistent on taking me here," You peer at Sam who had her jaw clenched as she detached her hold to you. "I dunno, we could've talked about this normally. In a space preferably where I’m not restrained like this. Samantha, I mean it. I can't play any more games with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow over your words. A game? She was absolutely displeased with how little you think of her admiration for you. The disbelief was written all over her face. 

She became eerily stoic at your words. You didn’t like being the receiver of her blank expression.

"The last time I did, you were adamant on leaving me. Fully avoiding me right after. You didn’t even pick up my call. And a game? Is that what you think it is? Oh, princesa. You're absolutely driving me up the wall. You're shutting me out, I’m familiar with it.”

You couldn't retort anything back at her words, gulping as you found the truth behind them. Sam was right; you've always wanted to run away from any forms of confrontation. 

You were never good at dealing with them.

Such a poor little thing, Sam thought. This was evidently giving you a whiplash, her attitude and unconventional ways, but she doesn't think she can wait any longer and the unforeseen little date you had last evening just accelerated, no, ruined her plans.

"Was she any good?" Sam lowly questioned with her other hand trailed underneath your dress, running on your upper thighs as she moved back. You shiver at the contact and warmth that spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Sam refused to call this woman by their name, it would make things harder for her. She detests how for a moment, you chose someone else over her.

You helplessly squirmed, making the handcuffs clink repeatedly once again. "She- she was nice—" you truthfully said.

When you wiggled out your legs, Sam overpowered you. She gripped your plush thighs, opened them to have herself placed in between, with your folded legs raised in the air, she took her hips to push them downward to stop you. Her own core met yours and you felt her packing.

"Nngh—!" you heated up, so close from erupting louder. 

And Sam? She hated to see you suppressing them. Especially when you have deprived her of your sweet presence for so long. But she has already learned that loosening up too much wasn't the good approach. She barely knew a lick to romance, not when her upbringing was surrounded by coldness and violence. She thought in realistic terms, the romantic movies that you loved and forced her to see were pathetic. Adorable that you found hope in them, so she gave that formula a shot when she saw you again. 

Only to see that you slipped away from her. It was ineffective, so to say.

Sam decided that she was going to create her own.

"Wrong answer, honey.” she smiled. “You say that yet I can tell you're already wet for me, aren't you?" 

You didn’t like how this turned out as foreplay and what was worse, is how you were enjoying this deep inside. Sam being in tune with your body—she already knew that. You just needed a little more… breaking.

"Fuck off, Sam. Just uncuff me already!"

"Now don't get me started. Say, I'll make a deal with you," Sam combed her fingers through your messy hair. "If you're wet once I inspect you, we'll do things my way. If you aren't– maybe– I will let you go."

Astounded with her proposition, annoyance crept into you. 

"What's so fair about that?"

"The illusion of choice." Sam grinned mischievously. "But you can't possibly be wet aren't you? It's still early in the morning and your words are insisting that you dislike this whole setup." she gestures on your body, huffing at how you're still resisting her.

"You don't own me," you attempted to stand for yourself.

Mirth settled on Sam's features. She tilted her head and an unsettling smile was set on her lips. 

“Haven’t I proved that otherwise from time to time?”

You look away at her crystal clear innuendo. Of course it's Sam. Everything that she did always had you transfixed and mesmerized by her.

"You're just mocking me now. Seriously, maybe if you knew why I pulled away..." you wryly replied. 

"That's the thing, I don't! It frustrates me what I have done wrong," Sam now appeared equally exasperated as you. 

You look at her bewildered. She had the nerve to say all of this, while her eyes were pleading at you. It was jarring to witness her crumble and desperate to seek answers in the softest way she can, while having you handcuffed.

"I heard you! That day, when you cooked for me and wanted me to stay in.” There wasn't going to be another chance if you didn't pour it all right now. With a shaky breath and a lump in your throat, you continue. “I accidentally eavesdropped on your phone call, confirming that you were going to a strip club. I hated that you were fucking around, even when we– whatever we were. I thought it was better to stub it out right after that. Apparently, I’m still not good with keeping things casual.”

Her calloused hands came back to softly soothe your face. You were close to shedding tears as previously.

"But… I've never been with anyone else since we met again." 

"Bullshit." you quickly spat out.

She gave you a stern look. Sam was displeased with how you were denying her. Still, she evens out her breathing, holding back from taking the reins for now.

"I swear on it with a knife on my throat, (y/n/n). I had to go for work reasons. I recently acquired the place so I had to finalize some things. It also helped to muddle our meet-ups in case someone was lurking."

It made you tense up underneath Sam.

"And pray tell, why the hell would someone be lurking at you—better yet, at us?" you curiously asked, worry dripped at your tone.

Sam exhaled, her eyes momentarily shut.

"Because I deal with an under-the-table business, honey." Sam meets your eyes again, holding onto the headboard. "It's the main reason why I had to step up, as I said before. My old man let his temperament slip terribly, fucked up, and I had to take the reigns. That's why I disappeared. I didn't have much choice." She appeared solemn as she admitted the truth you've been longing for. 

Sam leading a mob made so much sense now for you. Always wanting to be discreet, her men tried to blend in—not wanting to stand out, and especially that night where Sam was disoriented and had bruising, injured fists, more times than you can count after your first time seeing them.

The glint of amusement on Sam’s eyes did not go amiss for you as she gently stroked your hair. “Though, I gotta hand it to my old man. I hated how his voice nagged constantly in my head, how he figured out that I had feelings for you then–utilized it to taunt me every time I fucked up.” Sam scrunched her nose. The resentment seeped vividly as she revealed more. “He’ll always say, I can’t see you yet or- or that I don’t deserve you if I can’t defend you—that I’m weak. You were my silver lining, (y/n/n). Still is.” She confessed, stroking your jaw softly as though you were her most prized possession.

Similar to that one night, your affection for Sam overpowered your common sense. You were moved by her words, ached that she had to be tormented at a young age. Feeling bile rising up your throat; you then realize how deep were you enough to be willing to ignore the unconventional and wicked ways of Sam, even if it raised red flags. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t posing an immense weight over you.

It was all new information to you. For god’s, she had to kidnap you and cuff you to her bed. You never thought that your sweet Sammy could ever—

"That's... okay- okay. It's a lot to take in," you whispered to Sam who was internally worrying at your response.

Before you can delve more to the sirens threatening to grow louder, Sam scooted her lower body away from gripping you, and now you feel her lips softly yet so eagerly peppering your face with kisses.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I just want you, (y/n/n)." 

She pinched your inner thigh, making your mouth open agape from the shock. Sam took it as her chance to meet your mouth with hers, no hesitation now as she was eager to kiss you. Her lips moved and you tentatively returned the gesture, dancing with familiarity that you didn’t know you badly craved for weeks now.

You groan at the overwhelming feeling of Sam and how she moved against you. Wet and eager sounds of kissing vibrated delectably to your body and it made Sam shift to a hunger and lust fueled kiss.

Soon you were gasping for air. Sam reluctantly pulled away as you did, chasing your lips for more. She was more than pleased to see you equally half-lidded and affected with now swollen lips.

“God, I wanna be inside of you already…” Sam husked out as she swept back her hair. “You’ve made me so desperate, you have no idea.” The ragged breathing made you throb. She moved aside to spread your legs apart and you became wetter at what’s about to happen. Sam quickly placed herself between your legs, now folded up. “Do you wanna feel me?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Sam. 

She grabbed you by your cheeks, “I need an answer, mi amor.”

“Yes!” you breathed out, nodding dumbly.

Sam grinned wolfishly as your need starts to crack upon the surface. She knew that this irresistible feeling goes both ways. Still, she thrived on seeing this each time, being proved right.

“Arch your back for me.”

As you complied, Sam slithered her own body flushed against yours. It gave her enough space to reach behind to unzip your dress, tugged it down, her look barely faltered with a glint in her eyes. 

She saw your matching jade underwear pieces. Seethe began to bubble inside of Sam as it sinks in that you dressed up too nicely for your date last night. It drove her crazy, how your gorgeous tits were threatening to spill out of its confinement; you were such a sight for her. 

Only for her and it should always stay that way.

She cupped them out of your bra, finally revealing your supple breasts. It only took one glance for her desire to take over and now you’re pressed against Sam. She feels your nipples harden on her as she begins to mark you from your neck, to your sternum, and coated them with her spit as she sucked on them needily. Throughout the process, all you could do was spill moans helplessly, eyes closed and arched your body for her—gladly letting Sam do however she wanted.

Now your body was littered with red and purple marks, some parts glistening with her saliva.

“I want to taste you too, fuck, I don’t know which one I’ll do first.” Sam admitted, voice all raucous. Taking a peek of her needy, doe eyes was enough to make you feel lightheaded. “No more dates with other people alright? So god help me, I’ll fucking behead anyone who dares to.”

You nodded, now eager to comply with Sam as your whole body ached for her. Your green light made her weak in the knees—she worships you. Sam swore that she won’t hesitate to kill more for you, if they cross you or come between the two of you.

Sam pulled you in by gripping your legs, lower body completely arched for your core to meet hers as she knelt at the bed in front of you. She thrusted her hips upward and the dull ache of your pussy throbbing intensified tenfold. She continued teasing you and while your arm and wrists were beginning to ache, knowing you can’t do anything, you started to cry, pleading for the woman to do something.

“Please Sam, can you just– shit, it hurts, I need you… please…”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sam gently released her hold of you, pulling down her sleepwear and revealed the strap that dangled between her legs. 

You involuntarily widen your legs at the sight. Fuck, you were so ready for her. She smirked at this and tugged your underwear down. Your arousal flowed like crazy, the vivid imagery of your wetness stringing on the fabric of your panties and Sam was intoxicated at it, more so with your heavenly scent.

“Wanna fuck your mouth first, (y/n/n).” 

With no further warning, Sam hovered against you once again, leaving your pussy exposed and being teased with the mere air, feeling yourself drip already at her expensive bed sheets. Strong thighs and muscular lower abdomen peeked through her tight shirt, covering your entire sight. 

Sam tilted her head and you see the mirth on her face. Unexpectedly, she grabbed the middle of the strap’s length and slapped it harshly on your cheek and mouth, barely an ounce of respect. You were a fan of how she loses herself onto you—because of you. 

Body twitching repeatedly, without a doubt, you were craving for more.

“I need my good girl. Come on, open up for me.” Sam orders, probing your mouth open with the tip. Sam’s scent was intoxicating for you, too, with barely space from her core to your face, you almost wanted for her to ride you. Maybe later. “And I need to prep you first.”

Wanting to please her, you met her lust filled gaze and opened your mouth wide, tongue stuck out. She immediately pushed in a few inches, your tongue already swirling around the silicone. It stretched your mouth. With closed eyes you were sucking so eagerly that Sam moaned at each thrust she did, hit the back of your throat that you had to adjust your breathing through your nose–and how you easily complied with no hesitance. You covered it in the slick of your spit until your cheeks hollowed, eager to please even if you were close to gagging. Drool sloppily dripped on corner of your mouth; equally lost as her right now and Sam loved that.

No one and nothing else can compare to this sight.

“Shit, you love me moving like this huh? Being cock drunk, you’re pooling already in my sheets…”

She grunts as she thrusted harder, getting more turned on as the slick wet sounds become aggressively loud in the confines of her bedroom. Sam kept her gaze on you the whole time–loved the sight of your eyes welling up with tears out of pleasure, drooling on the corner of your mouth, and you were releasing throaty moans as she moved on your mouth.

“You missed this, don’t you?” Sam breathily asked, the bed creaked along. “Because I sure did,”

You hummed loud in agreement and this urged Sam to grab the shaft of her strap, with one final thrust, she poked it against your cheek, the head of the cock bulging against it. She groaned at the imagery—ingraining it on her mind. She pulled out with a pop noise and you were already dishevelled.

“Fucking hell, (y/n/n). Not so responsive now are you? Fuck, if my cock was real I would’ve made you swallow my cum already. Spilling them warm on your throat. You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked you through her rapid breathing and held you by your cheeks again to fully look at her.

“Yes, yes! I’ll swallow it all. I need you, I always need you, Sam,” you admit with no shame and spread your legs wide once again, your hole soaked and clenching over nothing—all for her.

“Must be your lucky day then. Because this is a cumming strap, mi amor.” 

As your eyes widened, Sam pumped on the shaft, directing it to your mouth that was slightly ajar and you felt liquid oozing on your lips and tongue. She dragged it until spurts were all over your face, torso, and then your lower tummy.

You made sure to put on a show for the woman, seductively licking off the remains of her fake cum, fully immersed as if it was the real thing. Sam groaned and moaned, immediately pulled you for a bruising kiss that made your head spin.

“I know you wanted more but I need you to be patient,” Sam muttered as she pushed your inner thighs outward, positioning herself between you. “Shit, you’re dripping. I was right. Soaking, just like I expected you to be.”

“Yes, yes! But for the love of god, uncuff me, Sam… I want- no- I need to feel all of you,” you begged for her mercy. Sam simply bit your exposed clavicle. As you moaned, the action sent delicious tingles all over her body.

“No, not just yet.”

Sam’s calculations were going well so far, she’s about to have you and then keep you forever. 

There’s no escaping her now.

You whined a bit more as Sam had her grip on the back of your knees, making you fold as she pressed herself beneath you. She held you by the ankle and threw them above her shoulder. Fuck, she’s got you folded. Maybe Sam should’ve let you do some stretching first.

“Need you to take a deep breath for me, pretty girl.” Sam uttered with her voice all gruff, and looking at her, you see the sheer sweat becoming evident on her skin though not as much as yours. “You didn’t like me so much earlier but now, I’m barely in, and your pussy is clenching already?” she mocked you. Her giggling burned your body, you did not expect how enjoyable it was to be ridiculed in this way. “Loosen up for me.”

With a bated breath as you relax your throbbing core, Sam slid her cock further, the head and a few inches entering you with ease than earlier. Sam was keen on looking at your expression and your mouth, in case it was too much for you. She knew it was a new thing for the two of you, she can only imagine that it’ll be a new adjustment compared to her slender fingers.

This was an insane type of stretch for you. The biggest you’ve ever taken.

“See? You’re taking it so well. I’ll make it fit.”

Eventually, it wasn’t enough for Sam as you expected. Drunk with the sight of your pussy swallowing her whole, she picks up her pace and rammed the cock inside of you—full of hunger and determination to see you fall apart; she needs it more than air. 

“Shit! S-Sam, can you just–”

“Shhh. Don’t be so greedy now, where are your manners?”

The curve of the whole shaft inside of you was vivid against your walls, her impatience getting the better of her as the pace was ragged, no longer gradual. It was downright pornographic–you didn’t expect to be this loud and wet. The ache of being deliciously stretched out made your eyes roll back to your head and let out a moan. The sloshing and slapping sounds were too defined for your ears.

“You… you’re going to be the end of me, Sam,” You whisper as you bucked your hips, the squelching of your sopping pussy only motivated Sam to thrust deeper who smiled at your words. 

She waited for you for so long and to finally have you was intoxicating beyond her comprehension. 

“As you are mine,” Sam replied and with a newfound fervor, she began fucking you deep into her mattress, hitting the depths of your soaked pussy. The bed uncontrollably shaking and with her grip on the headboard–you feared that she might actually break it.

“Oh m-mmh! Fuck, oh-Oh my god!” you cried, not even able to ground yourself through holding onto something as you’re still cuffed. 

“Shhh you can take it. Just a little more,”

Your arousal dripped enough to smear itself to Sam’s hips and thighs. She grunts loudly as she fervently pounds the strap on you, "Esto es mia." her accent dripped deliciously and you whimpered, whole back arched, as Sam splayed her hand, pushing the bulge of the strap that appeared on your lower tummy. “You like that baby? Needy little thing, I’m going to fucking breed you until all you can think of is me.” you wish to have your nails dug and scratched over Sam’s muscular back, finding the ideas she kept on seeding onto your dirty mind pleasurable more than ever.

Your stomach twitched like crazy, the tangled coil grew unbearable now for your liking. Both of your muscles burned but it was barely an issue for Sam who was still relentless. 

Just as you were close as Sam hit the right spot, her pounding came into a full halt.

With hazy sight, you try to blink a few times. Sam started to pull out, while you cried, canting your hips to chase more of the strap and she simply took deep breaths. She growled, slapping you harshly by your inner thighs—you yelped unadulteratedly, the sting crossing the line of pain and pleasure. Sam muttered a string of curses in her mother tongue as soon as she saw the strap coated and glistening with your slick.

The tension on your stomach twitched madly in waves. It doesn’t help that your clit was throbbing painfully to reach the needed high. You wail as you turn your head to the side, burrowing to the soft pillows. Your vision turns warped as you grew dizzy, staring at the high ceiling.

The harsh reality sinks in. Like a cold bucket of water spilled onto you, you realize that you’re in Sam’s complete mercy. She makes it known with her giggling that resonated in the spacious room, making you feel humiliated. Though, it oddly adds to the erotic atmosphere. She worked you up–gaping hole still clenching, now onto nothing.

“This is what happens when you do dumb things and deprive me of your pretty self, mi amor.” she smiled and stroked the apple of your cheek, wiping the tears away.

Sam couldn’t wait to fully break you.

::

While previously wallowing in deep yearning and questions, Sam however, took it up a notch. It was terrible; aware of Sam’s tendencies to be rough in bed, nothing had prepared you from yesterday. Her intentions were clearly personal and she took the detachment horrifyingly and dealt with it in unimaginable ways you never thought could happen to you. For gods’s sake, she was following you and not so long ago you were in her bed. Uncertain how you’ll face this mess, there’s one thing that you were sure of: you cannot get enough of Sam. 

Isn’t that terrible?

You woke up gasping for air—your body doesn’t feel like yours. It felt as though you were paralyzed, your motor senses weren’t coordinated as you wanted them to be. It was like being plunged into a body of water for hours, coldness surrounded you and oxygen was scarce, you were completely deprived. Your lungs were clogged up and you didn’t know how to manage the air through your body. Panicking at this, the tears involuntarily well up your eyes, blurring your vision and just in time, someone catches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Warmth covers your body. The soothing voice kept on lulling you to calmness. The grasp was firm on your midsection—continuously rubbing back and forth. It wasn’t like being trapped anymore. “It’s just me, mi amor. It’s Sam—your Sammy. Try to breathe slowly with me, come on baby, you can do it.”

The voice faintly goes through your hearing but it was distinguishable enough. It was still difficult to breathe but being in her proximity, you feel her pattern of breathing. She takes a deep breath and draws out the release just as slow.

“Breathe with me, come on honey,” The voice urges you gently, sweeping the hair away from your face. She anchors you through the turbulent waves. Sam thought; How can you still look so beautiful even at your most vulnerable? If anything, this had made her even more set with her plans—wanting more days of waking up next to you. 

Your breathing was less ragged, albeit still unregulated. 

Sam wanted to see your eyes now, the one that she loves the most, and your subdrop is depriving her of it.

She tries to paint an easy picture for you in hopes of calming you down. “You’re alright. You stayed with me—in my house the whole day. It’s nighttime and nothing bad is going to happen to you. What’s going to happen is that you’ll rest the whole day. I’ll prepare some food, we’ll go for a bubble bath, and reapply a soothing cream to your sore thigh and we can watch some romantic comedies that you like so much—you’d pick the movie, of course.” Sam finishes with a light chuckle.

Finally, the panicking has settled down, her words have lulled you to calm down. You aren't drowning in the vast and deep sea nor restrained like a prisoner. It provided enough details that you didn’t know your mind longed for. 

“Sam,” you drawl out with your hoarse voice. You’re met with the beaming hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners, attentive to your next words. “Fucking warn a girl next time.”

“No promises.” She teases you, nose scrunched and tickling your side lightly.

You fight off a weak smile threatening to spread on your lips. “What do you mean no promises? I don’t think I can walk! Don’t even look smug right now–I mean it.”

The woman in front of you was not guilty at all. Shrugging her shoulder, Sam was seemingly ready to get up.

No!

You shrieked. Panic immediately courses through you, tugging her down harshly to your side once again. Your grasp was in her arm. Why were you so adamant to have her beside you? It was unexplainable but if anything is certain, your body couldn’t handle it if she left you. Not after letting her have her way with you earlier—you refuse to feel disposable, even by the slightest. You wanted more of Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was shocked at the action but not at the reason. She blamed herself—knowing you were still processing your feelings, how rough she has been—she should have remained gentle, at least for now. Sickeningly, she loved having your attention this way. It felt like a teaser of what was more to come—to eventually have your full devotion; equally as she does to you.

“I’m sorry, honey, I was about to carry you.” Safe with me now. She murmured to no one, soon as you clung to the front of her body, legs wrapped tightly to her waist. Her arms and hands quickly caught you for support. You nuzzled in the crook of her neck, making her shiver delectably more so as you tangle your fingers on her hair—scratching lightly on her scalp. 

Not long after as she started walking, she pressed multiple innocent kisses to the expanse of your neck. Sam sighed. God, everything had to be so addicting about you—even your scent. She gently drops you to the cold marble of her kitchen’s counter and before you could protest, Sam reminds you of the plans she had made for tonight.

You’re surrounded with appliances that you had no idea how to properly pronounce, one that you would’ve only seen in the magazines. She always wanted the best of the best, it seems. Hell, Sam can start a cooking show if she wants to. This part of her house wasn’t too decorated, you noticed, somewhat lifeless. You tuck the observation at the back of your mind, a piece that could be useful later on.

Soon as you settled in, Sam told you that she intends to make an appetizing flatbread and her own concoction of guacamole dip. How she managed to improve her culinary skills in these years remains to surprise you. Younger Sam was already capable of making edible food fixes and some humble meals, but her skills as she made them was evidently different and an upgrade.

Your curious eyes remained at Sam as she moved. Her apron appeared threatening—it read don’t make me poison you! Attached with a kiss mark was ridiculously endearing to you. But also very, very hot. The way Sam tied it around her waist and how it clung to her fit figure. Not to mention, you were rewarded by the sight of Sam’s hair tie momentarily trapped by her teeth then doing a messy half-pony with it. 

She first started with the dough with the trusty rolling pin, her arms flexing and contracting at each force she put into it. The veins were slowly becoming prominent as Sam does her work, the outline of its curves bulging, also making themselves known. Remnants of the powder were a nice touch as she was making a meal for you. 

Don’t even get started with her knife skills. Sam easily chopped through the vegetables, completely hypnotized by the motion, you failed to notice that she was preparing some greens that you personally had a vendetta with. Your eyes were fixated on how she cut through them with much precision and ease. Then, you recall her admission, leading a mob—you can only imagine how swift she must be with her sharps when using them in business situation, the menacing glare and—

What?

Now, you were thoroughly confused.

You gulped and squirmed on your seat. The ache in between your legs made you remember how she deprived you of orgasm previously which was a first. She even promised to breed you. But you didn’t know whether it was an act of mercy, knowing if she pushed you more, you would have spiraled much worse the following hours when you woke up or was it an act to build an excitement through you. 

No wonder, similar to the physical hunger, you found everything in front just as equally gratifying. Even the thought of her malevolent ways, which you initially had conflicting thoughts about. You were still aching and sore, it didn’t help that Sam was quite the eye-candy as she maneuvered in her own space. Shit.

“I know you still don’t like these. I remember you shoving them sneakily on my plate whenever we ate dinner at your house back then.” Sam snapped you out of your…derailing thoughts. Oh, you wanted to be railed, alright. She dusts off her hands on her aprons after washing them. “But you have to eat up your greens, missy. Don’t make me force you.” she quips in a jest, eyes scrunched at you.

“I don’t have much choice, do I.” You deadpan and roll your eyes as Sam hummed, agreeing. “How come you don’t have a personal chef?” 

Might as well shift your thoughts to something else. Admittedly, you also wanted to know more about Sam. After the continuous bombs she had dropped to you as she fucked you to oblivion. 

“Ouch, baby. You haven’t even tasted what I’m cooking and you’re already doubting me?”

You laughed. “No. But I heard it’s what rich folks have. And you must be busy.”

“Not for you, never too busy.” She replied, quickly like it didn’t need much forethought. She shot you a charming smile and proceeded to chop away. Did your heart do the somersaults? Hell yes. You were always puddy when it comes to this woman. “Sometimes I do… but I prefer doing it personally for you. Especially today. But on another occasion, maybe you’ll see my personal chef.”

“Do I sense an early invitation for an indoor date?” you tease her.

Sam nodded her head adorably. “Well, yes, (y/n/n). I thought that was clear already. More things to come.” 

Well, that joke of yours bit you quickly in the ass.

You coughed and turned around to your side to hide how affected you were. This version of your Sammy would need more time to be processed into your consciousness. Few weeks apart and you’re still clammy and hopeless at her forward nature.

“You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. For all I know, this feels like another booty call for me.”

“A booty call?”

Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. Sam halted her motions, you flinched in your seat as she spun the knife effortlessly in her fingers, then gripped the knife and pierced it in the chopping board—the sound resonating in the kitchen.

“You are my girlfriend and it better stay that way.” A lilt of aggression and possessiveness dripped in her honeyed voice. She couldn’t stand you doubting more of her actions. Or worse, you mentioning any traces of your past experiences of hooking up with other people. “Like I said, I despise having to share you amongst all things. I thought I made it clear; no talking of other people–more so when you were entangled with them at one point–around me. I absolutely cannot stand it.”

Her jaw grinded as it bothered her. Sam didn’t know whether she should throw up or plan to hunt them all down and slice them all up, gut them up like a fucking fish, as she pays them a little visit. Starting with this Lucy woman you just went on a date with.

Shiver ran through your spine at her tone, coupled with Sam’s harsh parting of your still sore legs, settling between them as yours dangled on the marble counter. You turn into jelly oddly both at Sam’s admission of wanting you—claiming you—and her hand that greedily ran on your ribs, dangerously under your breast, and the other brought up your inner wrist, and pressed a kiss softly.

“I wasn’t– I just wanted to clear this out. It confused me for a while, what we were. I just needed it spelled out. For the sake of my inner peace.” You stammer out and Sam’s features slowly relax to your admission.

“Well, you are mine, mi amor. I’m reiterating that for a million times more until it sinks in to you.”

She professed, tilted her head and leaned to you with no hesitation, and as you met her halfway, one of her hands rested to the side of your head, pulling you for a chaste kiss. You burned for Sam, chased her touch, and the butterflies on your stomach were still there. Not even the little cheek kiss from your date last night could compare by the slightest.

Soon as Sam pulled away, your stomach growled, reminding you of actual hunger. She chuckled upon hearing and quickly resumed her work. 

“I didn’t know you were this…” You stop to find the right words. Sam tilted her head to the side again, always attentive to you. “Passionate.” Possessive, almost. Maybe you would have said that but you didn’t want to break such an intimate air between you. Not when Sam is officially your girlfriend.

Sam however, found it amusing. She’s surprised you barely caught up with her nature. Even in your younger years, she assumes that you only took it as protectiveness. Casualties were barely encountered then because you were attached to the hip, by default nobody wanted to mess with you as everyone was aware of Sam’s intimidating self. She was all talk and bite.

"You can say possessive and I won't be mad. I don't want you holding back to me."

“Okay. I was about to say that. Were you ever like this with other girls?” you timidly ask out of curiosity.

She shook her head. “No, just you.”

Sam clearly remembers this girl from her lacrosse team who wanted to ask you out for homecoming. Unlucky for her, Sam had heard her previously in the locker room, talking about you as they perceived you both in sweet and disgusting ways. 

She mentally agreed with how they recited your beauty out loud. You are definitely a piece of art to Sam. She unashamedly admired you out in the open, but it appeared that you were oblivious to it. But then, they also talked about how you were possibly freaky—your innocent and quiet nature was a mere ploy in their eyes and they would like to tap your ass and ramble more of your curves.

It may or may have not intendedly caused Sam to perfectly stage an accidental scene to break the girl's ankle during one of the practices then sneered for her teammate to 'watch out next time' and 'not even think about you' in the slightest.

“Guess I was indeed full of surprises, hm?” She simply replied, getting a glass and a bottle of your favorite flavor of fruit juice for you.

How did Sam even know that this was your go-to comfort drink?

With wide eyes, you accept it gratefully. 

“Yes, you are.”

Not long after, Sam had finally finished up preparing food for you two. The serving was definitely quite generous. She didn’t hesitate overfilling it with the toppings and sauce. She brought up a piece of her creation in your mouth, which you easily took a bite of. The food and its flavors melted in your tastebuds. You couldn’t help but moan in pure delight.

Sam laughed. “That good?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re stroking my ego, baby.” She places her palm flat on her chest, seemingly flattered. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—you know this.”

And you? You almost spluttered out the food you were chewing. Sam and her devilish antics will be the end of you.

::

It wasn’t you to be contained in one place. You were always moving, whether there was a force or not. Yet, for the last few days, you manage to be unmovable. Miraculously taking your sweet time with Sam. Time seems to fade when it comes to her. More than anything, you were in disbelief you get to call your long time crush as yours.

The small haven the two of you built for the last few days came to an inevitable end with Sam having to attend to her business matters. 

You were displeased, the bubbling separation anxiety somewhat coming to the surface already. Just before Sam left, she pulled you into a deep make out session, and both of you were getting handsy. Gleaming at the thought of finally getting a sense of release, to your surprise, Sam managed to break away and compose herself—smoothening the material of her dress shirt and fixing up her tie.

To pile more to your frustration, you saw the emerald upholstered chair that Sam shamelessly paid and took when she fucked you senselessly at that lingerie boutique. As expected of the woman, she had it in her placed in the resting area of her house.

Before deciding to explore more of the nooks and crannies of Sam’s home; you eventually noticed the red lights at some corners placed in the bedroom and a brilliant idea popped out in your mind.

You retrieve your phone and dial Sam to confirm and quell your thoughts. 

“Miss me already?”

“Terribly so.” you fiddle with the strings of Sam’s hoodie–the owner giggling to your direct confession. “I just noticed, but are these cameras in your bedroom?” your eyes flit to one to your right. 

Sam cleared her throat. “Before you detest the idea; baby, it’s all for safety. If it makes it all better, I’m the only one with access to the bedroom cameras.”

You almost snorted because of course, she would. 

Audibly, you sighed out of relief with a hand clutched to your chest. “Thank god. ‘cause I was about to touch myself.” 

You’ve dropped the words so casually that Sam for the first time, was out of words. Faintly, you picked up something on the other end, a sound like a clear fall–unbeknownst to you, you have successfully made her flustered beyond her comprehension.

“Sam? Don’t tell me you hung up on me,” you rolled your eyes.

The woman took a deep breath. “No. Still here.”

“Good…” 

Your eyes remained on the camera, giving the best of your pleading eyes–hoping it’ll somehow be visible enough through Sam’s static screen. Hand slithering on your ribs then your covered mounds, making you groan out loud and eventually your fingertips hovered around your pelvis–a flimsy underwear that you Sam chose for you to wear earlier. It was practically see-through. Your body felt feverish, eyes fluttered shut. 

It would be so easy to dip your fingers inside…

You hear Sam growl. “Don’t touch yourself. Not without me there. I swear to god, (y/n/n) I’m not playing with you…”

A whine escaped your lips at her order, actions coming into a full stop. It was no use to sneak off, aware now there’s cameras in her house and Sam was bound to figure it out no matter what. 

It took Sam half an hour to reach you. You’re met with a determined woman, loosening the tie on her neck and unbuttoning her dress shirt halfway as soon as she barged into her bedroom door—while you gasped, looking still the same as Sam last checked on her monitors.

She manhandled your body, as though you weighed nothing. It spurred your libido higher than ever, mouths crashing and Sam devouring you until your lips bleed and bruised. The only thing that came out of your mouth was her name and more moans that echoed beautifully in her room. Bodies flushed together, you grinded in perfect sync, breasts brushing that made you putty. The familiar gliding of her hands soon met your soaked center. Sam slid her long and slender fingers, entering you but not fully. She started to rub circles slowly until you were worked up enough, playing with pressure, she pumped them deep into your throbbing pussy. Sam grunted at the squelching sounds, obsessed with the warmth of your core. You easily took her in, greedily swallowing all of what she can offer to you.

The twitching of your stomach was absurd and seemingly nonstop. Yet again, Sam noticed, and she took out her coated fingers out of your sopping apex. 

“No, not yet princesa.” She devilishly giggled, breathless as you were on top of her lap. You simply cried and squirmed, as the lack of release was making you crazy.  “Give me a good reason,”

Your hips bucked but Sam was moving away. You didn’t like it at all. Surely, you were going to combust if you were deprived of this heaven for much longer.

“Please, I can be good! Sammy… I’d do better!”

How can Sam deny you now? She giggled at your state. Sam had to admit, edging you was a form of sick atonement that she wanted to pull out of you. Forged as a punishment for leaving her dry while she was understanding and patient. Her devotion was clear as a day and you’ve failed to notice that. Yet, it was also a ploy to have you in her orbit, even by sexual means. With a sardonic smile, Sam absolutely had fun with it.

“Now you’re talking. Just like how I want you, (y/n/n).”

With newfound fervor, she resumes her motions to your pulsating and insanely wet pussy. You clenched repeatedly around her digits. It released a throaty moan out of Sam, low and breathy, spurring you to arch your head back. 

“Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-need you… only—s-shit—just you, Sam! Nngh!”

Pride deeply surged on her chest. If it were possible, her love for you only heightened.

“Oh, I love you.” She confessed against your skin. “Cum for me, (y/n/n).”

The endearing look that Sam had in her hazel eyes had made you even more lightheaded as you took a peek at her. She loves you? You couldn’t believe it. Just in time, your body shook in pleasure as finally you were able to cum. With weeks worth of teasing, it definitely scratched an itch but somewhat it wasn’t enough, yet you couldn’t raise your voice for more as it exhausted you. Maybe you should start working on your stamina, you thought. But then again, Sam was insatiable with her teasing and foreplay. She had been sinfully eyeing you and grabbing you so casually without any promise of making you cum.

Your profession of love to Sam came out in a mumble. Of course, it was no-brainer that you reciprocate her love, too. She simply laughed at your state, body slumped and nuzzled on her neck, a gentle kiss pressed out of appreciation for her. Sam held you tighter, combing through your hair that had grown sticky due to sweat, all softly and breathing in your scent. She smiles upon realizing that you used her own shower items instead of yours, one that she provided, knowing which products you used religiously.

As this was happening, Sam bestowed your little date with a gift. A bloody pig head awaits the woman, the item placed not out of her doorstep but rather from the inside. The scene was gory for her or any sane person’s liking. The trail of redness was spread through her floor and has oxidized. It left a stench of rot, that flies were starting to appear in your date’s home. Sam is anything but rude, so her present came along with a note—one that relayed a clear message of threat for the woman to stay away from you and it would be better if she moved away.

Sam would have made her death swift, dealt with it clean this time as she has no longer a message to relay for you, a contradicting safety and fear which she can both offer—all in order to have you. 

Your stunt of touching yourself today effectively reduced Lucy’s sentence. She cut her plans short and had given this woman a second chance and made a simple scare instead of personally gutting her up with ease. Although if she pulled any attempts of challenging her again, Sam would no longer be merciful to her.

::

Another day of Sam giving you a bouquet of flowers. To her surprise, today was different. Soon as you placed them carefully on a vase filled with water, quickly you retrieved your own gift for her. She always gave you something and you wanted her to know how you always thought of her, too.

You handed Sam a dark blue colored mug that was rough around the edges, a proof of your inexperienced clay making. Designed with stars and the waxing crescent as the main subject, the outline is painted in gold. 

“What’s the occasion?” She asked, still in awe.

“Should there be any? It reminded me of you,” You smoothly replied. Her eyes twinkled and it was easy to say that it was a success.

Sam was over the moon. You remembered. Honestly, it was hard not to, because her pillow sheets were still related to the cosmic – only portrayed with much elegant material. Then her ramblings and how Sam would take you out to simply admire the moon at night. As she held your present carefully, you thought now of how it was a fitting symbol for her, with her tendencies of being a night owl and broody. She chuckled at your perception of her. 

“Oh and I’m broody?”

You add, "It makes you hot and mysterious though, don't worry."

“We should watch the night sky sometime again. I missed doing that with you.”

With Sam’s eyes crinkled in delight and her million dollar smile directed at you, caught you in her grasp with your feet in the air—her hold flooding you with warmth and adoration—it wasn’t much work for you to smoothen and forgive her of the previous disagreements you’ve had with the woman. 

She was simply your Sammy, far from the frightening glimpse you’ve seen of her as someone determined and powerful of a mob leader.

::

Somehow, you managed to get back unscathed when you returned to work. With absence equivalent to a honeymoon trip, you didn’t know what excuse the universe had provided over you. You explained a made up family-related emergency problem, even though you haven’t seen them in years, and it worked like a charm on your end. You weren’t fired even with the sudden absence, no resentment in your bosses’ tone, and your coworkers simply wondered and then welcomed you back.

What you did not know was that your absurd omnipotent of a girlfriend conjured something, effective enough not to pull much attention in tying her name with yours. Sam already invested in your company. It was clear for her that you wanted your own thing, getting out of work so quickly. She respected this wish of yours. A negative push from her would have made you shut like a clam and she didn’t want that—not when Sam was making progress already.

Were your spirits lifted? Without a doubt. Luck didn’t strike you this much, so you gladly took it in.

Initially, you planned to go back to your apartment after work then call your girlfriend. You can’t deny that you missed your own space, wondering if it was dust littered already, given your absence for how many days.

Although, a car was already waiting for you outside. 

“After you.” Martin greets you, opening the car in the backseat. You offer him a polite smile. To your surprise, Sam was seated there too. Immediately, you tackle the woman for a tight hug. Sam returns it with a loving smile and you didn’t want to let go of her addicting embrace.

She looked stunning with her navy turtleneck and usual trousers, along with her polished leather shoes. Sam’s attire always complemented her tanned skin that you love so much–especially with the gold accessories that adorned her look. If anything, getting a sight of her energized you and made your mouth water.

She laced your hands together. “How was work?”

“Good as it can get.” You sighed contentedly, head already leaning to Sam’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what magic you pulled, but I wasn’t berated at all? And this guy from the other cubicle was the only thing that annoyed me by far.”

“What’d he do to you?” Even without looking, you can already see Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You giggle as it wasn’t a serious matter. “Relax. I just couldn’t tune out his singing and humming today. It got on my nerves… he didn’t exactly have the voice of an angel.”

“Oh I’m sorry you had to put up with that?” Sam meekly says in hopes of comforting you and her thumb rubbing on the back of your hand.

“You know I should be the one asking you–how was your day?” you retort. You always wondered how it worked; Sam being a mob boss. She must’ve always been caught in some form of distress.

Sam bit her lip. She looked at the rear view mirror before answering you. There was nothing much to hide at this point.

“Good. Somewhat smooth, no one annoyed me with a shitty singing voice.” She replied in a deadpan which made you laugh. “No one had to face my knife nor my fists, surprisingly.” 

“That for real?” your eyes went wide.

“You asked,” she mumbled. Sam held your hand tighter as though you were going to disappear in thin air. “It’s nothing like a war, (y/n/n). I know your head is getting all creative–but the machine gun out in the open? Not real. Not an efficient way to stay low, either. Sometimes it’s about looking at paperwork and more on discussions. But lately it’s more of in between securing deals, cordially as we can. Then like I said, sometimes… it takes force and grit—in case things go south.”

A pout spreads on your lips. It pulled out a hearty chuckle from Sam. As she suspected, you indeed had a comical imagery of her work. 

What she didn’t know was how you grew into liking the vision of her being stern and domineering. You even thought of her office, how her seat must’ve looked like a throne to sit in. Completely lacking in warmth, assertive, cold and calculated as she gave orders around.

You blurt out, “That’s hot.”

“Hot?” Sam looked at you in disbelief and some flattery. “I didn’t expect that from you, (y/n/n).” an amused smile graced her features.

You simply shrugged and soon yawned.

“When was the last time you had time to rest? You deserve this, mi amor, and so much more. It wouldn’t hurt if you let go once in a while.”

It got you thinking. Sam is right. You weren't used to having this privilege; by means of simply resting and existing in a peaceful space. Always trying to get by, going through the tedious nine-to-five routine. You’re forgetting something but you have already succumbed to the idea that crashing onto your girlfriend’s place (once again) was a given, due to your sleepy state. 

“Before you fall asleep on me, I got you this,” Sam shuffled on her seat as soon as you leaned against the car’s headrest, mindlessly fiddling with the sun pendant placed below your jugular notch. Sam got it for you a while back.

She reached at the back of the car and pulled a gorgeous bouquet arrangement. It was becoming a common occurrence every week, since you managed to make a deal with the woman. You had issues with being spoiled too much and Sam petulantly met you halfway, understood it, even if she acted like a kicked puppy. This was her alternative of spoiling you of love—amongst other things. Sam balanced her unconventional approach of romance through this, willing to give this traditional courting-like gesture another shot, not wanting to be too rough with you as it wasn’t an image she wanted to be fully attached to. 

Another huge motivator for her was the discovery of your admittance when she came up with this unannounced, saying that the first and last time you received them was in high school and it was because of her. Sam can recall the time, unknowingly having missed the sight of you being tongue-tied and absolutely flustered. She loves how you glowed at this little gesture.

And now, Sam is eyeing you between like a meal to devour and the trace of gentleness is found on her hazel eyes, as always. Her fingers cradled under your jaw.

You can get used to this.

:: 

"But I'll miss you. didn't we plan movie night today?" A rare sight of Sam, pouting and tugging you close, was beyond endearing.

You almost felt bad. Pressing your lips against your girlfriend, you then lead her onto a chaste kiss. "I'm skipping just for tonight please? And it's not like I won't miss you too, either. because I certainly will."

"So smooth with your words."

"I've learned from the best."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. She didn't know whether she'd be pleased at this situation or not. Her issue lies from your current outfit, she thought it was too short. It didn’t help you were a walking vixen and dangerously unaware of it. The idea of you prancing around with filthy leering eyes following you all night? It made her blood boil.

That was already a job taken by her and hers alone.

Her grip loosened around your waist, turned into soft caressing. She beams at you, knowing it was your favorite sight and part of her.

"Mmm. Maybe it was bad that you were taking notes. Too much of it I'd say."

Your phone pings again, your friends were already telling you that they're on their way. A part of you detests to be away from Sam – but you think that your memory has gone oddly hazy and you cannot remember the last time you met up with your friends. You get out of your shared room but not without Sam hovering and sending you off with a kiss and personally driving you there.

Meanwhile Sam was somewhat pleased. Sure, she wanted all of your time, but she had to admit how she reveled in the way you have easily forgotten of her obsessive and conniving ways. Your girlfriend wouldn't let you out of her sight, of course. Constantly worried about your safety and a step ahead, decided to plant two men with a set of skills present on the scene; a safety net in case your fun night out changes its course, her gift of necklace served as an audio receiver and the expensive watch had a tracker.

What you hoped to be a good time, ended up on a terrible note. You disagree with your friends as you open up a few more details to them. It was all because of your curfew and they perceived your relationship with Sam as too intense. That was a given, right? It’s a love thing, you suppose. You fiddle with the necklace she gave you, pondering over how as though they didn't see Sam in the same light as you did. She wasn't borderline abusive. In fact, she had been greater than ever to you, more carefree, unrestrained and unfiltered. You feel it too, she was more relaxed and eager to disclose any information you wanted from her.

Now on your fifth drink? Or sixth? You scoffed and giggled. You were bummed because it took Sam a lot of convincing that you were going to be safe. That you had your own pepper spray with you and that nothing can happen with your friends beside you. It was good, refreshing even. Until it wasn’t.

“I’m just saying, you have to watch out for yourself. And we’re here. Anytime.”

“Are you sure you can trust her after that? She seems… pushy. Won’t take a no for an answer.”

“Seems too fast, (y/n). It won’t be bad if you raised your opinions every now and then, you know.”

It echoed once again to you. Sam was the best for you. Everything between you was consensual. You understood her ways, simply because it was how she was made. You can only imagine how several years of being moulded into a domineering leader with a strong gut have drastically shaped her, refusing to think of it further how you weren’t there for her. 

You downed another shot and as you drank away your disappointment of your friends’ criticism of your girlfriend, a greasy man was already eyeing you.

Then you realize Sam's words from one of the nights you spent with her. She was right; these people in your circle wouldn't get it. Not as much as the two of you do.

Upon your realization, a man not so discreetly manoeuvres his way through you. You deny him but he was insistent. It was gross how he was a mouth breather, his stench hovering over you. 

“The more the merrier, baby.” He didn't even believe that you had a girlfriend, in fact, he even grinned disgustingly at this information.

“You have one second before I call the fucking cops.”

“That’s a lame excuse–” He whined, looking away in disbelief thinking you were bluffing. “C’mon, I can make you straight… all it takes is a night with me,”

You took that chance to stealthily use your phone and clicked on speed-dial. You were surprised it connected to Sam instead of the cops. You don’t remember changing it although it was a better alternative, truthfully. With the initial shock, it override the rising suspicion from you; how your girlfriend set it herself.

Some men came over to assess what was happening. The greasy man rambled too much, far from convincing with how visibly uncomfortable you were. Thankfully, they came into your rescue. You hoped they were good guys. So far it seemed promising that they pushed the guy who was making you uncomfortable. They had a strong build and now were exchanging in a verbal disagreement. It was getting heavy that you had to step away and as soon as you bumped from someone at your back; it was your girlfriend, doe eyes swarmed comfort to your body. 

“Get in the car, mi amor. It’s parked at the front. Lock the doors and wait for me there, hm?” She caressed your cheeks. You were clearly shaken up, still Sam was proud of how you nodded and tried your best to look at her. “I’ll handle this.”

Her thumb caressing gently on your hips, you look at her once again, to see not even the situation and what it holds for the man—but to see if she was truly alright. Sam reassures you again that it’ll be alright and focuses again on the man that had been bothering you.

Where the hell were your friends? Sam groaned lowly in frustration. It was good how she decided it was a good idea to wait out for you. Who knows what could have happened. She takes a glance at the man who added rain on your terrible drinking night-out. She lured him out. He was ecstatic, the idiot not even knowing his fate for tonight. Him trying to take advantage of you sealed it for himself. 

Sam already figured that this would be easy, his throws starting on a terrible form, giving away how he didn’t have a proper knowledge of its basics. He might’ve been taller, but his lack of skill proved him to be useless. Sam immediately went for an opening, fist met his face then swoop his feet quite literally which hit his knees badly to the pebbled ground. He groaned out of pain, curses flowing out of his mouth.

“Please! I’ll do anything! Spare me, I haven’t- I didn’t even touch her!” He begged on his now decapacitated knees.

Sam quipped, “Should I be happy about that?”

“N-no, but–”

“You harassed her. Insisted on wanting to fuck her.”

Over a dim corner outside, Sam sighed and took out the silencer concealed in the back of her jeans, and personally shot him right in the head. She liked seeing her power over these people. Always begging for a way out, so desperate.

Her men didn’t even flinch, trained and desensitized. In another vehicle parked near to the scene, a few more men came out of it, dressed for clean up and quickly carried him out for disposal.

She didn't want things to be messy. But she had been listening to your entire conversation; unbeknownst to you that the necklace also served as a down low spy-like device for her. Sam was happy that you were quick to jump in her defense–how you trusted her. Frankly, she was afraid that her attitude and sense of ethics would be something you’d be disgusted with. Being proven otherwise, it warmed her heart, increasing her devotion tenfold if it were even possible at this point. 

It was easy to lure you out of your circle of friends grasp. She thought of some point how useless your friends would be, now that you have her. Sam knows they’ll only add as a burden and mess.

As she drove the two of you back home, her free hand constantly rubbed random patterns on your exposed thigh. The streetlights were just as warm as your girlfriend’s touch. Her constant glances at you each time you were in red light. The reassuring smile that barely left her plump lips. 

When you waited for her – you didn’t even care what could the man from the club could face. Was it terrible that you reveled in the high possibility of him being a dead meat?

One thing for sure is that you only had one good takeaway this evening.

With your parents out of the picture a long time ago, disapproving of your ‘lifestyle’, and siblings being far and preoccupied with their own lives — this was it for you: Sam is your family. Each time an emergency or a milestone happens to your life, only Sam is there for you, without fail.

You only needed her and she was more than enough.

::

"Tara wants to see you." Properly and not from afar as Sam instructed, the voice echoed in her mind. "Not today, because I want you all to myself right now. Some other time, maybe."

Your eyes crinkled. "When have you not? But yeah - I'm totally in. She was practically a baby when I last saw her." Both of you giggled at your remark.

You discovered another room in Sam’s house. Barely gone through all of them, you found out just now how she had a gaming area. Littered in between retro and modern game machines, and how it glowed differently from arcades, made it appear much inviting. Now in low lighting in the afternoon, you ended up playing pool with your girlfriend. It was a game you always sucked at; with your shitty aim and handling. Bad news for you, it’s Sam’s favorite and opposed to you, of course she was great at it.

Terribly cocky too.

Not that you minded, because she was attractive for how she flaunted it. She’s carefree with you, seemingly retracting to her playful self that gave her a youthful joy of a glow. With her dressed up in tight cycling shorts that were covered with a sweater around her midthighs; Sam looked appetizing.

Back to the game, your motor movements suffered. Each time you aim and thrust the pool stick, the ball bounced off like a fish - far from the pocket points. Missing the target was also a common mistake for you.

She laughed. “No, baby, you’re holding it wrong too.”

“How is it any different from yours?” You retort.

“It can be your posture as well and the pressure you apply when hitting. Don’t be mad now.”

Huffing, you were so close to breaking this pool stick. “Maybe if you showed me!” 

Sam chuckled. She liked your adorable scrunch getting all focused to at least score a point. she gets from your behind, bodies now flushed. Her soft chuckling continues as she notices how you stiffened at the contact. It blows her mind, how years ago things were in reverse; it was her who always panicked at your comforting touch. she welcomed it, relishing each second, replaying the memory of times she missed you before meeting again. She beat herself up mentally at how different she should have approached it.

Sam shook her head, focusing on the present. she has you now and it's all that matters.

“You just have to…” She took your forearms in a grasp and smoothly ran them to your hands. “Hold it like that. Your other fingers for balance however, depend on your level of comfort. It’s a matter of practice–which is what we’re doing.”

“Is that so?” You tease her, turning your head enough to meet her face, hooded eyes greeting you. You feel Sam growing breathless much as you do.

Her hazel eyes had a specific glint to them. They beautifully shone and no doubt had a swirl of lust growing bigger onto them. You purse your lips to hide the spreading smile. Instead, you retaliate by leaning over the table exaggeratingly; practically bending over it. Sam could no longer hold back a small moan escaping her mouth.

It was a matter of a different game and Sam decides she’ll humor you.

However, it was proving to be a difficult task. You just had to rub your ass against her hips. Now practically enveloped by her, weight almost all into you. You wiggle a bit more. Then you felt something else. Fuck. Was she…packing?

She had a cocky smile now. It’s been a while since she has used this on you.

 “Mmm, mi amor. And your aim? Don’t push it up like this,” She grabbed your hand to reenact it. The ball thumped as it bounced – showing how you usually hit. More of her weight was on you, her front deliciously pressed on your back. “I noticed you tend to do that.”

“Oh, do I?”

You were playing dumb now. Although, with skins inevitably brushing, it doesn't take long for the two of you to crumble and give in to do something with the tension.

“Fuck this.” Sam muttered, fingers digging on your thighs as she immediately hoisted you up to the pool table. Back of your thigh’s skin rubbed to the rough texture of its surface, somewhat adding to your gnawing hunger.

Sam was bouncing with excitement to take you in here. Mouths crashing in dire need of each other, she explored your mouth as though she hasn’t before, tugging your bottom lip until you tasted iron.

“Oh, oh… god,” you whimper.

Sam gawks at you with darkened eyes. “You think you can tease me like that?”

Your jaw slacked as Sam's teeth sunk in the skin of your neck, far from finished and continued by nibbling with pent up fervor, and the pleasure of her ministrations as the moans rolled off your tongue with ease. Her open mouthed kisses were messy against your skin but nevertheless, you welcomed her through arching your neck to give her more space to paint you red and purple.

Some of the balls clanked as you guys moved desperately, grinding on each other.

“Look at you.” She giggled and had your cheeks on a firm grip. “My pretty girl so eager to get fucked dumbly. Did you feel my cock earlier at your little tease of a show?”

You helplessly looked at her with half-lidded eyes, nodding.

“Yes, please…Sam,”

“Please what?” She mocked you, doe eyes filled with mirth. Her hands slowly moved from your cheek to your neck. Sam gives it a squeeze, making you hum in delight. “I won’t continue if you don’t use your words properly.”

“I…I want you to breed me, like you said months ago,” you murmured and looked away.

Blood rushed in your clit. You were throbbing in need and full of embarrassment. But it was the truth that you wanted to be fulfilled. You didn’t know it caught Sam in a surprise, her joy and libido had gone through the roof.

Sam relishes onto this, a wolfish smile on her features as she takes every inch of your skin with her lips and hands. And you? you can barely keep up, clung onto your girlfriend’s neck to gravitate yourself in the spiraling haze in your head, pretty sounds continuously tumbling off your mouth.

What you want, is what you’ll get.

You managed to take off your top, now almost completely bare in front of your girlfriend.

“Good girl. So, so good. I knew you had it in you, mi amor.” You’re met with Sam’s patronizing smile. You gulp in excitement at the praise she’d given you. “You remember your safe word right?” She asked as her hands wandered, pulling your own shorts down and underwear. As you nodded, a predatory look was fixed on her face. “I’m going to make you forget it, I promise.”

Her irises were ignited with a newfound desire, turned you on your back and bent over as previously, against the pool table.

Sam stroked her strap and adjusted your legs. She wanted you wide and ready. Your slick was smeared on your innermost thighs and some of them formed with strings of your arousal, greeting her as she spread you out. God, she can’t wait to ruin you.

Without warning, the skin of your pulsating hole was being dragged out by the strap's length and all you can do is whimper loudly in complaint. The head teased you a little with her pace agonizingly slow. As she pulled out though it didn't last as she decided to ram the entire length back inside of you, absolutely filling you to the brim. You moaned as it burned inside of you. Sam reach on your tits for balance as she started thrusting, picking up a pace. With all things going on at once, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and face pressed against the rough surface.

"Wait... oh my god, fuck, wait!" You trembled underneath her, your palms outward against her the table, weakly attempting to push away determined Sam. "So- so big, Sammy, I don't... oh! d-don't think, I can't!" You deeply underestimated her cock. But reeling onto it was simply addicting that you felt conflicted.

“You can and you will. You wanted this, didn’t you (y/n/n)?” She mocks you again. Sam was right, you wanted this. “Whoring yourself to me, this is the least you can do. Fucking. Take. It.” Your girlfriend punctuated each of her words with a hard thrust, each time you swore that it went deeper into your walls.

Sam was spurred on with your erotic reactions. She wanted to see your limit, see you truly fall apart. For god’s sake, you were already dripping wet, gushing and smeared all over Sam’s cock and hips. Once she found a rhythm pleasing to you both, she moaned along you as the base also met her clit – sending shocks on her end as well. 

You were so fucked out right now and an orgasm was ripped out of you so suddenly. “Nngh… oh!”

Breath heaving, you felt the wetness run down your legs. Sam slowed her movements and stayed deep inside of your walls. More liquid gushed out of you, mixed with your girlfriend’s fake cum. It felt heavy and so full inside of you that you can’t get enough. It was beyond gratifying and out of body experience.

“Another one, come on. I have to fill you up to the brim,” Sam whispered against your ear, white-hot that it sent shivers down your spine. Your hips surely will bruise after this, as she resumed pounding relentlessly against the fine wood. It also made you embarrassingly more wet, too. Her pounding didn’t falter at all, Sam’s own hips still at work.

“Fuck– I….Ah!” Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Sam took pride in your current state. She gripped you tighter on your lower back and the other firm on the edge of the table. Sheer sweat already covered the two of you and the pool table continued to shake, now no longer in a prim and proper placement; instead it was crooked due to the movements that were forced upon it. You were fucking like animals.

A vast incoherent mumblings came in a slew to you. Your head pressed against the table and tears came out of the corner of your eyes. Your ears weakly register the mean giggling of Sam. The erotic sound of the skin-to-skin slapping continued to fill the space of your room, synchronizing with the creaking sound of the table. With your mouth agape, you felt the shaft being thrusted in a different angle, the cock’s tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. Sam dug so deep into you that it made you dizzy already.

“Gonna fill you up real good,” Sam continued to penetrate you mercilessly, her aggressive and determined grunts vibrating pleasingly to your body and adding to the carnal state both of you were in. It was too easy to sliver her cock in and out of you now, fully lubricated given your sopping core. “My breedable little bitch. Fuck, I’d say you’re meant for this. Meant to take this huge cock, hm?” The stretch had you bucking your hips onto Sam, gyrating along her teasing thrusts in and out. “Tell me how good it feels. How I make you feel so good.” Her honeyed voice taunting you. Begging you.

You envision Sam’s words to your heart. If only it were possible, you wouldn’t mind a single bit of carrying her child. After all, there are countless good qualities that your girlfriend beautifully possesses. 

“You… you feel so fucking good against me,” A strained, throaty moan tumbled out of you. Sam hummed in your validation. “O-only you can have me- do me like this, Sammy…”

With your reassurance, came the rocking feeling of being so full again. Now Sam doesn’t move an inch, refusing to do so and determined to keep all of it plugged inside of you. You’re sure that she has moulded her entire cock out of your warm walls, stretched it out with no hesitation until it explored undiscovered spots from before.

To your shock, Sam flipped you again. It was insane how she recovered so quickly. Almost buck naked she sat now on the pool table and made you come up to ride her properly. She’s met with barely a resistance on your pussy as she easily shoved it up again with no trouble, moaning loudly and growling possessively as the curve of her length faintly made its outline known to your lower tummy’s skin. 

“God you look so beautiful with my cock inside of you.” Her grunts were vivid as Sam’s white hot breath directly hit your ears. You feel your core gush more wetness, body all feverish, loving how she's also desperate and enjoying this much as you do. 

She needs you. She admires you. Sam wants all of you.

You bounced helplessly and cried some more, to the point that your safeword dangerously hovered on the tip of your tongue. Until finally, Sam emptied out her fake cum inside of you – some of them dribbling down and smeared some more. Both of you were heavily breathing and Sam balanced your bodies – yours being slumped and weak against her, breathing ragged and eyelids heavy. You were fully spent and satisfied.

“So beautiful. Are you alright, mi amor?” Sam asked in pure concern. The lust on her eyes slowly dissipated, soft and only focused on your current state.

“Y-yes,”

Then a person barges in. You’re pretty sure that it’s a man who just squealed. He caught the sight of you and your girlfriend in a compromising position. You jump slightly and it was a bad idea, because one: you are naked, and two: Sam was still nestled deep inside of you. She also grunted at your accidental rocking.

Your stomach churned as you and Sam sober up quickly. Of course, you didn't like being seen like this if it weren’t only for Sam’s eyes to perceive you unashamedly. As expected, Sam hurriedly covered you first – fast and most as she can, at least. Your back was turned away from the man who entered the room, facing the wall.

Meanwhile, Sam had her chin tilted up, seemingly exasperated. If it weren't for your comforting touch on her forearm, she's sure of combusting in a messier manner, sporting the intimidating signature look on her demeanor. She almost looked unrecognizable with her cold and unamused gaze.

"I instructed you to knock three times." Sam quipped with a deep voice. “The receiver was also there, was it not? You could have buzzed in and waited outside.”

"Miss Loomis.. I- I- I did, I knocked before—”

Being in closer proximity to her, you felt some wetness gush out of your pussy. Blood rushed on your cheeks, as you made the previously pristine and high-end of a pool table now all messy and coated of your fluid. You caught a sliver of Sam’s defined hipbones and lines in her abdomen were prominent more than ever. She tucked her strap back as she pulled the cycling shorts up as quickly as she could. The room felt still for what feels like hours. 

"And is that enough? I strictly told you to never enter, especially when I’m with my partner."

Sam had a scrutinizing look over him. She’s more than fucking pissed. The mob boss has never seen his face before. It must've been a new recruit. If it were any other mistake, maybe Sam would have spared him. 

But no, he had to walk in while you were naked.

She bent down to reach underneath the pool table. She retrieves a gun. Your eyes widen but she hushes you, reassuring that everything is fine. although her eyes expressed the clear fuming with her jaw clenched, you gulped at the sight. 

Sam scoffed, she hated being messy in front of you. For her, increases the likely of you leaving her. "Don't turn around." She orders you still with gentleness lace on her tone. "I mean it. Just… stay here." 

Okay, you're more than fine with the sight.

Definitely so wet and turned on.

Sam moves and so does the man. Out of the room, you hear a few clicks and the cocking sound of the gun – the metal, spring, and unlocking of the weapon and you don't look further than that. And with the door slightly ajar, there's a loud sound that clearly indicates a shot. It's quick and followed with a heavy thud. A clear shot has been made. Your eyes widened. It rang your ears a little but it soon faded. 

"What the hell was that?"

"He's a dumb one, a new recruit." Your girlfriend replied blankly. She fluidly moves around the room and reaches for her phone, eyes not leaving your naked body. "I need you to do some cleaning up- uh huh. in here, near the living room- second one, yes." Then she quickly hung up.

"I hate being interrupted. He had to ruin it. Almost saw you, too. I'm sorry baby, but I had to finish him off.”

Sam sighed and rubbed her temple. She wasn't a fan of losing control in front of her beloved. Although this one tested her greatly, feeling an immense protectiveness, she didn't like one bit having any of her men seeing you in this vulnerable and naked state. Prancing around normally as though your sight isn't engraved in their filthy little dimwit brains. Now she worried only about your reaction; knowing your initial response was to run away, same as you did after opening up to her even then. She always pulled you close—held you tighter—whenever you did. 

She left a tender kiss behind your ear. You were immediately flooded with comfort. Her touch had a tendency to numb your worries down. It was familiar and gentle. Were you afraid? Surprisingly, you were not.

Out of all times you’ve seen her ‘lose’ it – was seemingly always out of making sure that you're safe, free from worries, gives you enough room as much as she can (knowing that Sam cannot resist invading your personal space) and has done anything to harm you in any way.

Sure, she just killed in front of you. But now, you can care less – knowing what your girlfriend’s nature and work entails. Besides, she has done it in your honor. In a twisted way, you interpreted it as a sign of her unwavering commitment to you; that you’ve always been a family to her – one that she plans on building one with, anyway. So instead, you reach to cradle Sam’s cheek and pressed a lingering kiss on her irresistible burgundy lips.

“You have me, always. Don’t worry.” You profess to her - a promise you intend to keep.

Sam grinned, visibly relaxing. Finally you fully understood her viewpoint.

Does it make you equally sick? Who the hell knows.

taglist: @not-alesha, @women-lover-kisser , @bluetreecloud20 , @danniackerman , @natsbraids , @melissabarreraswife , @bratydoll , @fantasylandbitch , @rocknr0ll , @mokotodenis123 , @deliriosinrose , @red1culous , @jennasoneanonly , @gaylorvader , @pixielovers2account **i can't tag others? :[

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[altxrrmelancholy]

All That Matters - Smg

Tags: soft!Mingi x soft!reader, idol! Mingi, explicit content, virgin!Mingi, not full-on smut but still explicit, fluff fluff fluff, just soft and wholesome

Word count: uummm...

Note: Cherry Lemons is still in progress, but this idea came on to me after remembering a certain Yeosang one shot that I read once, so I thought I should write this one first.

•••

You took off your hoodie and settled further into Mingi's comfortable bed, waiting for him. He left earlier to go get water for himself so you were alone in his room. You took a look around while you adjusted your top. The slight light from the sunset-coloured nightlight at the corner of the room made you smile, knowing that Mingi really loved those.

This was certainly not your first time in his room, but it was the first time sleeping over when he was here. On some days when you were too tired to go home from work, you would crash in Mingi's room when he was out on tour, as it was closer than your house. Mingi liked taking off his sweaters or hoodies and just throwing them on the floor, so you would just clean up after him when he and his roommates weren't around. You asked San and Seonghwa if they were uncomfortable with you lurking around their house when they weren't there and they definitely didn't mind. You were glad that they were supportive of your relationship with Mingi and didn't mind you sleeping over.

In the midst of spacing out, you heard the door open and looked over at Mingi, who was avoiding eye contact as he stepped in. He knew you preferred sleeping in your underwear as you had told him a few months back. It's all he could think about knowing he was about to share a bed with you. He stood awkwardly in the room as if waiting for permission to be invited to his own bed. You smiled and tapped the space next to you, signaling him to climb up next to you.

"Are you okay? You know I can just sleep on that chair next to the windo-"

"No! I mean, it's cool, you can sleep here. I'm just... a bit tired, that's all." He fumbled a bit as he climbed up on the space next to yours, settling next to you on his back. You couldn't stop smiling as you turned your back to him and settled properly, ready to rest. A couple of minutes passed and you were sure Mingi was already asleep, so you closed your eyes ready to sleep too until you heard him take in a deep breath.

"Mingi?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

He was silent for a bit wondering how he would word out what he wanted to say. You were in the process of turning around to face him when you felt his hands on your back. "N-no! Don't turn! I just- I want to tell you something and I don't want you to look at me right now." He said, his voice gradually getting softer. You were a bit worried, but wanted to hear him out at least, so you stopped and settled in your place.

"Okay? Then tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He sighed. "Right. I know."

You heard him breath in and out again steadily, his chest to your back. You brought his hand around your waist so you can hold his hand and assure him that you would listen to him and hear him out on whatever he wanted to say. You felt him begin to speak.

"Sometimes I really want to be intimate with you, but... I'm scared? I don't know. The others have dated before, Jongho included." He mumbled the last part and you couldn't help but laugh out loud. You remembered one of the last conversations you had with Jongho about his dismissive personality and how he had managed to maintain his ex-girlfriend. Safe to say the both of you argued and had to be stopped by Mingi butting in. It was all fun and games though.

You felt Mingi laugh behind you and was glad that he had at least calmed down enough to tell you what he was thinking.

"What are you scared of, huh?" You said softly, still caressing his hand.

"Well... You're my first girlfriend, and you're amazing don't get me wrong, but you're more... Um... You're not like the other member's girlfriends, or exes."

You knew what he meant.

You were more forward. You were the one who initiated most things between you and Mingi: first date, first kiss, first hug... Hell, you were the one who asked him to be your boyfriend. But he has been surrounded by his members and their girlfriends, who had been putty in their man's hands (especially San and Yunho's girlfriends) therefore he didn't expect you to act the way you do. Yunho's girlfriend especially was very shy and submissive, I mean, anyone could tell what kind of relationship they had. He thought you would be the same way.

"It's not like I didn't want to share a bed with you, you just make me so nervous... Not like a bad nervous! A good nervous! I really want to be intimate with you and not have to be scared that I'll do something wrong or, I just- well, what I mean is that I-"

"Mingi."

"Yes?"

"I get it." You chuckled a bit. You could feel him chuckle also, albeit awkwardly. You turned around and met Mingi's eyes. You caressed Mingi's cheek as he closed his eyes. You leaned in and softly kissed him, encouraging him to go harder if he wanted to. He placed his hand on the small of your back and pushed you closer to him. His head dipped down even more when you threw a hand over his shoulder. This went on for a couple of seconds until you pulled back from him, his lips chasing yours.

"You see how easily you just did that?" You whispered. You gave him a few seconds to come back to himself. His eyes suddenly widened as he looked at you like 'i did that?' You laughed softly at his adorableness.

"I also want you to know that you shouldn't overthink things, okay? You like me, righ-"

"Yes! Yes I do, very much." You smiled.

"And I like you too. A lot. So that's all that matters. Okay sweetheart?" You whispered as you got on top of him. You waited for him to nod, and dove in to kiss him again. This time, he was more sure of his movements, his hands moving down your sides to your waist. You moaned slightly at the touch and Mingi grabbed the opportunity and slid his tongue inside your mouth. You wanted to pull back and tell him that you were proud of him but you felt Mingi buck his hips up to yours. You responded by grinding yourself on him. The kiss slowly got forgotten as the both of you were now moaning into each other's mouths, Mingi's deep moans spurring you on more.

Mingi felt like he could fly. He always wanted to touch you, be the boyfriend you would be proud of but he was missing out on small moments like this the more he was worrying. Even as he heard you softly moan he was still thinking about whether he was doing okay. What more could he do to impress you? He figured it would take some time for him to get over those thoughts. With you though, he felt he would do it easily.

He wrapped one hand around your upper back, and one around your waist as he relentlessly tried to reach his high. You buried your face in his neck as your moans started getting a bit louder, not wanting to alert the roommates of your antics. You felt his senses overtake you as your high was building up. You whined Mingi's name as you came, your hands tightening on his broader shoulders.

"Y-y/n sh-shit..." Is the last thing you heard before you felt his hips stutter and his groans alerting you that he came in his pants. The two of you breathe loudly as you begin to register how hot the room got. You lay your head on his chest as you waited for Mingi to calm down.

After a few minutes of silence, you lifted your head to look at your boyfriend with a smirk, and found him as red as a cherry. Is this the same man who performs in front of his fans looking like a sex dream? If only they knew how he actually was. You considered yourself luckier than them.

"What, Mingi? I came too, you know." You laughed as Mingi groaned out of embarrassment. He definitely needed a while to get used to the way you spoke. You figured you would skip talking tonight, and allow Mingi to be... Well, less red.

"Let's go clean up?" You softly smile instead.

Mingi looked up to you with those innocent eyes.

"Yeah. S-sure. Let's clean up."

•••

Note: I hope I succeeded in the softness aspect. That was the main part of the story.

I hope you enjoyed it! I would really love your attenti- feedback! *runs away*

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB demons' favorite horror movies

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Another long post including all our demon boys :D Also thought I'd change up the look of these all-demon big posts so lmk if you like this one ^^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan

You'd expect him to pick some torture-porn, but he actually picks something supernatural

More specifically a movie with vengeful spirits

People hurting each other? meh... Spirits messing with people bc they're pissed? Well, now we're talking

Favorite movie: The Grudge (2004)

Sitri

Rather than something scary, Sitri like watching something cosy

Doesn't want to spill his tea when a jumpscare gets him

The only time he'll watch something like that is with his partner, so he can hear their heart race

Favorite movie: The Shining (1980)

Amy

(We've had Amy just for a little bit so bare with me)

Rebellious boi allert (?)

Pretty boy loves to watch movies about other boys ^^

Favorite movie: Lost boys (1987)

Leraye

In last year's halloween-themed post I wrote that Leraye doesn't care as long as the movie has thunderstorms in it and I still stand by that

Who has the brain capacity to remember movie names when most of your blood is rushing south?

Paimon

Please, please, please introduce Paimon to Hereditary!

Still, despite the movie literally having them in it, Pai prefers more of a "girly" horror

Favorite movie: Jennifer's body (2009)

Belial

Okay, not really a horror movie fan per se, but a horror musical?

With a lot of good music with funny lyrics?

And the type that Jiyu enjoys singing?

You've got Belial's attention

Favorite musical: Sweeney Todd (2007)

Astaroth

We've got a psychological horror fan on our hands!

Oh, and if the movie has the characters speak in unordinary way?

A local accent or different language has Astaroth interested instantly

Favorite movie: The Vvitch (2015)

Zagan

Zagan likes the old classics

Or the old movies where the characters don't speak

Sadly, he doesn't speak up for himself when the nobles are arguing what to watch, so he has to watch a lot of movies from the others

Favorite movie: Frankenstein (1931)

Ppyong

As brave as Ppyong thinks he is, he doesn't like horror movies that much

Usually, someone has to be with him for comfort and safety while watching anything remotely scary

Favorite movie: Any of the Scooby Doo movies

Mammon

I... don't think Mammon has a preference.

Part of me feels like he doesn't really get the point of watching movies

Like, if you suggest snuggling up and watching something, he'll be all for it, but only bc of the snuggling bit

Favorite movie: Your favorite movie

Bimet

Is anyone surprised that this gold-digger loves any movie that follows wealthy people?

Me neither

Doesn't matter what genre it is, he's The Rich Person Apologist™

Favorite movie: American psycho (2000)

Eligos

Eligos doesn't like scary movies, but(!) horror adjacent movies are his thing

Loves all those teenage witch shows and movies like The Craft

Oh, also Scream Queens ^^

Movie nights with Paimon and Eligos >>>>>>

Favorite movie: Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988)

Valefor

Since Valefor like to know about other people's experiences in bed, why not extend that to the type of media he likes?

Found footage feels right to say that Valefor would enjoy

Also, why do a lot of the found footage movies contain sex scenes? :/

Favorite movie: Ghoul (2015)

Leviathan

I bet you expected something Lovecraftian, huh?

So did I, but couldn't find any movie in that genre that would scream Levi's name

But you know who fits his aesthetic perfectly? Tim Burton's movies!

It also kinda makes sense since I'd imagine our poor PTSD-having demon would hate anything making him feel on edge

He's had enough of being scared

Favorite movie: Corpse Bride (2005)

Foras

Ooh, another psychological horror fan!

I also imagine that all the Hades nobles like theatre/musicals/ballet, so let's look for somethin in the middle...

Favorite movie: Black Swan (2010)

Barbatos

You can imagine how Barbatos reacts to most scary movies, which usually consist of dark scenes shot at night

Not to say he won't watch anything with you, but he will complain about how pale the actors are :/

Favorite movie: Midsommar (2019)

Glasyalabolas

Okay, we can all see this coming

This fucker (affectionate) loves his torture-porn

I mean, most of us have read his H-scene

Favorite movie: Hostel (2005)

Orias

Our old/young man loves movies with creepy children since he looks like one of them

Some even give him inspiration for acquiring more souls for himself

Favorite movie: Sinister (2012)

Beelzebub

To capture this idiot's attention, a movie needs to be really interesting to him

Likes his cannibal movies

They, just like to Orias, give him inspo, but this time for recipes

Favorite movie: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

Bael

Bael is more grounded with his taste in movies

Still a slasher fan, but more on the realistic side

Imagining him just sitting on a couch/armchair while sipping some tea under a blanket while watching a movie gives me tired single mom vibe idk

Favorite movie: Psycho (1960)

Naberius

An obvious fan of Werewolf movies since he's one technically too

Kinda hopes that he can learn something about controlling his transformation from them

(I don't really like werewolves alltogether so I found this one on google - I hope it's good)

Favorite movie: Wolf (1994)

Stolas

Rebelllious boi 2

If there's guns that shoot, Stolas will watch it bc it goes with his tough guy persona

Favorite movie: The Purge (2013)

Amon

Given that he'll most likely fall asleep during the movie if he's not watching it with Beel or you in the room

Likes 90's movies in general bc they're more chill and more about the vibes

Favorite Movie: Scream (1996)

Ronove

Another torture-porn enjoyer

Surprise surprise?

Yeah, him and Glasya having a movie night is an experience only for the stongest

Favorite movie: Laid to Rest (2009) or The Collector (2009)

Phenix

Phenix loves any and all movies and they don't need to be scary or anything due to their affliction

Still, I think if they weren't under Asmo's influence, they would enjoy a good succubus/siren movie

Favorite movie: Siren (2016)

Dantalian

Yep, another torture-porn fan, except this time for the opposite reasons

Glasya and Ronove look for fun gore, Danta is looking for hot ways to die

Favorite movie: Audition (1999)

Belphegor

Okay, not a movie but an anime

What else would you expect from our weeb snoozer?

Favorite anime: Junji Ito Maniac! (2023)

Beleth

Usually, Beleth loves his mafia type of movies

When it comes to horror, he wants to be laughing hard

Bonus points if he can relate in some sort of sense to the main villain

Favorite movie: Beetlejuice (1988)

Gusion

Teacher boy loves his horror villains S-M-A-R-T

Like the calculated, composed type

Favorite movie: Silence of the Lambs (2001)

Bathin

There's nothing scarier to Bathin than being contained to one place without the possibility to escape

It makes him feel claustrophobic no matter how big the place is

Like you could lock him up in a castle full of spacey rooms and he'll be anxious

Favorite movie: Misery (1990)

Andrealphus

Since Andre can't see, I don't really think he's enjoy movies

He does, however love the audio stuff

Audioboooks and horror game OSTs are his go-to's during spooky season

Favorite audiobook: Between two Fires

Favorite game OST: Layers of Fear

Agares

Since Belphie took Niflheim from him, Agares realised he really loves his vengeful spirit movies

'They took from her so she started taking from them'

or how the quote was in his favorite movie

Favorite movie: The Woman in Black (2012)

Vassago

With his love for speeches and such, Vassago finds himself ofhen enjoying the religious horrors

Bonus points if there actually are some speech scenes

Favorite movie: Midnight Mass (2021)

Lucifer

If there's a movie containing the Antichrist, Luci is interested

He kinda also finds it amusing to see humans fumble with their demon names and stories

Favorite movie: The Omen (1976)

Morax

It might be a bit childish, but Morax likes movies themed around holidays

Bonus points if there is an adorable character

Favorite movie: Trick 'r Treat (2007)

Buer

Buer loves a good mindfuck movie with an unexpected twist

Other psychological horrors are good too, but you know...

There's nothing better than a lore drop that makes you wanna rewatch the movie from beginning and look for the subtle hints

Favorite movie: Orphan (2009)

Marbas

The last member of our gore aficionados

The only struggle for Marbas is to not criticize some anatomy errors of the sfx team

Favorite movie: Terrifier (2016)

Gamigin

It's rare for this babey dragon to watch horrors, but if he's with someone, he will

Once he's watched one already, he's less scared and will watch it again alone

Any movie where he can relate to a character is an instant hyperfixation until another movie comes around

Favorite movie: The Boy (2016)

[hayatheauthor]

Hi! Newbie writing who loves writing, I just wanted advice for how to write a character who is emotionally numb and distant and how they can overcome it?

Or who to write numbness in general?

Writing Detached Characters: A Guide to Emotional Numbness

Welcome to the latest instalment in my series on ‘how to write different emotions’. Contrary to the series title, today’s blog will be covering how to write a lack of emotion, or rather, emotional numbness. This is an area many writers covering PTSD, depression, or closed-off characters might be interested in. Thank you anon for the request, and I hope this blog helps you with your writing! 

Understanding the Motive for Emotional Numbness

Emotional numbness can stem from various sources and they all influence a character's behaviour differently. Understanding the root cause of their numbness is crucial to portraying them authentically. 

Trauma-Induced Numbness: Characters closed off due to trauma may appear more disconnected and guarded. Their numbness is a defence mechanism to avoid reliving painful experiences.

Chronic Stress: Prolonged exposure to stress can lead to emotional exhaustion and numbness. These characters might show signs of burnout and a lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.

Depression: Characters dealing with depression may exhibit numbness as a symptom. They might struggle with feelings of hopelessness and an inability to experience pleasure.

Each motive ties directly into the character's behaviour, so it’s a good idea to research how numbness varies based on the cause.

How to Showcase Emotional Numbness in Your Writing

When crafting an emotionally numb character, subtlety is key. Here are some ways to show their numbness through various aspects of writing:

Body Language

Closed-off Posture: Crossed arms, avoiding eye contact, slumped shoulders.

Minimal Gestures: Limited use of hand movements, lack of expressive body language.

Tense Muscles: Frequently clenched jaw or fists, indicating suppressed emotions.

Lack of Physical Contact: Avoids hugs, handshakes, or any form of touch.

Facial Expressions

Blank Stare: Eyes that seem to look through people rather than at them.

Neutral Expressions: Rarely smiles or frowns, maintaining a consistently neutral face.

Delayed Reactions: Slow to show any reaction to surprising or emotional events.

Flat Affect: Consistent lack of facial movement or expression regardless of the situation.

Note: remember to not take this too far! This isn’t to say your character doesn’t feel anything at all and will never react to anything but more so that their reactions will be very muted. Yes, they can get happy/surprised, etc. but they won’t have wide grins or loud exclamations of shock. 

Appearance

Plain Wardrobe: Clothes that are simple, unassuming, and devoid of vibrant colours; preferences for baggy/shapeless clothing. 

Neglect of Personal Grooming: Messy hair, unshaven, or generally unkempt appearance.

Monochrome Outfits: Preference for neutral, muted colours like grey, black, and white.

Practical Over Fashionable: Chooses functionality over style, reflecting a lack of interest in appearance.

Dialogue Cues

Monotone Speech: Flat, emotionless tone without inflection.

Brief Responses: Short, to-the-point answers with minimal elaboration.

Avoidance of Personal Topics: Steers conversations away from personal or emotional subjects.

Lack of Expressive Language: Uses simple, direct language without metaphors or descriptive flourishes.

Adjectives and Verbs

Descriptive Words: Detached, apathetic, vacant, stoic, unfeeling, indifferent, withdrawn, impassive, numb, aloof.

Action Words: Avoids, withdraws, dismisses, isolates, ignores, neglects, shuns, evades, suppresses, restrains.

Emotionally Neutral Verbs: Walks, talks, looks, sits (instead of strides, argues, gazes, lounges) listens, observes, reacts, replies, continues.

Subdued Descriptors: Plain, muted, dull, flat, colourless, bland, lifeless, monotonous, reserved, restrained.

Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Since there are several reasons why someone might be emotionally numb, each cause has different ways to overcome it. Here are a few common approaches:

Therapeutic Intervention: Therapy or counselling can help characters address underlying trauma or mental health issues. Techniques like cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) are often effective.

Supportive Relationships: Developing a trusting relationship with a friend, family member, or romantic partner can provide the emotional support needed to open up. This would be a better option for a character who has developed numbness due to past relationships and needs to ‘heal’. 

Personal Growth and Self-Discovery: Characters may embark on a journey of self-discovery, engaging in activities or experiences that help them reconnect with their emotions. It would be fun to see a numb character do this with a love interest or close friend. Maybe they’re ‘forced’ to go to an amusement park and the other characters are shocked to see them whoop/yell on one of the rides. 

Resources for Understanding and Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Here are some valuable resources to help you better understand and write about emotional numbness:

Books:

The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

Waking the Tiger by Peter A. Levine

Research Papers:

Emotional Numbness in PTSD

Emotional Numbness Research Papers Directory

More:

Scholarly Resources on Emotional Numbness 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[velvetvexations]

Okay, so like.

Someone can say they're not saying transmascs have it easier, but you are actually still saying that even if the way you're actually phrasing it is "transfems have it harder."

The thought-terminating cliché that AFAB people are allowed more room to navigate the way they express themselves in a gendered way is bobolynery. People who spread this to make themselves feel like even more a righteous victim are annoying and piss me off. That goes without saying. But the argument that AMAB kids will have less chances to explore options is equally ridiculous, because even if it may be true that in some areas and contexts women are allowed to wear pants, that is not and has never been a major component of egg cracking to begin with.

You can't simultaneously argue that this is not a gendered act yet also somehow something that helps an AFAB person identify with masculinity. Like, countless millions of women wear pants every day without being transmasc. If it's truly NBD, how does that work? How, might one imagine, are transmasc eggs cracked by wearing pants if they're surrounded by women doing the same thing every moment of their lives?

If anything, by this logic, it should be harder for transmasc eggs to crack! If the line keeping AMAB people from being women is so thick, wanting to paint your nails is an instant signal you might prefer identifying as a woman, whereas a short haircut is not that in any place where you propose the line keeping women from masculine presentation is thin.

But the idea that trans women would even need something like that is absurd. It is also, I suspect, tied into those chugging the radfem juice who call sissy kink (trans)misogynyistic for treating being a woman as degrading. Like, an absolutely massive number of people with a sissy kink are in fact actual trans women, because they grew up understanding that they wanted to be women but non-consensual degrading situations being their primary outlet for that.

I'm not saying it isn't great things are different now. Of course it's a beautiful, wonderful sign of progress that "haha cartoon where boy forced to wear lipstick" is no longer the only thing trans girls have to turn to. The point, however, is that an AMAB child understanding their desire to be seen as a girl has always been extremely common. I do not have the data to suggest it's overwhelmingly the majority, but it is certainly not rare compared to the amount of transmascs who have that same understanding of themselves. Even many transitioning for the first time as adults report having always known.

Maybe there are simply more transmascs than transfems because there just are? Have you considered that? That maybe there are just more transmascs than transfems and it's not because transmascs get the red carpet rolled out for them?

[biolumien]

Saw some of your Hoshina Fics and it was stellar! Absolutely fucking amazing. You don’t know how damn happy I am to see Kaiju No.8 on my page. Your writing is phenomenal.

With that in mind, would it be possible to get another Hoshina request in? Preferably a Hurt/Comfort scenario. Maybe they’d have argued or something and they’re forced to actually confront each other’s insecurities. Because we like flawed adults going through their issues ✨together✨

If you’d like a more solidified vibe, try listening to Unsweetened Lemonade by Amélie Farren. It might give you some ideas!

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you!! :DD

notes: thank you so much for ur kind words ;-;; wahh... i love angst,... and functional relationships.... which is why i always write relationships on the verge of collapse... also thank you for the song rec!

hemming and hawing

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader theres a bit of drinking, but nothing extreme. word count: 1834

hoshina isn’t really good at communicating. for being the vice captain of a squadron of elite soldiers, where communication was often the difference between life and death–he’s really fucking bad at communication–or at least, the kind that requires you to be personal with other people.

he’s been ignoring you for days.

you’re not even sure why, at this point. you’d thought whatever relationship you were kindling was going fine, right? you weren’t exactly sure where the two of you stood, but you liked each other plenty, right? right? 

right?

so why was hoshina ignoring you? why did he sit so far away, make constant excuses to get up and leave? what the fuck was wrong with him? every time you’d grabbed him to talk–oftentimes having to physically hold him by the arm, because he’d often keep trying to walk away from you–he’d respond with one-word answers, not quite looking at you. you’d sit at your desk, so restless that your leg would bang against the underside of the table just wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. 

were his feelings a fluke?

hell, were yours?

what the fuck had you done wrong?

had you done something wrong? had you overstepped a boundary somewhere? but then again, how could you have? how could you have overstepped a boundary if he never made clear what his boundaries were? were you insane? what the fuck were you doing? or maybe the better question to ask is was soshiro hoshina worth this amount of hemming and hawing? was it worth it to lose your mind over his stupid face, when you saw him laugh at something okonogi said, or exchange quips with ashiro? was it worth it, when you knew he used to make the same faces towards you, used to look at you with something like measured affection behind his eyes–

you slam your head so hard against your desk that you can feel it starting to bruise.

no. no matter what, you were losing your mind over soshiro hoshina, damn him! damn him!

it keeps going on like this for a couple days–you try to talk to hoshina, he shrugs you off faster than any competent sentence you could possibly string together can form, and he leaves. the rest of the third division seems to notice, too–you’ve noticed twice in a row okonogi giving you a worried look. it wasn’t a hidden secret or anything that you and hoshina got along quite well, so if even okonogi was giving you a weird look…

you’d shrug, simply, give her a smile, and ignore the raging tire fire burning under your skin.

the next time you get a moment with hoshina is during a celebration party following a successful mission. you pour yourself a healthy glass of the strongest alcohol you can manage, and chug down the entire thing in one gulp, wiping your mouth inelegantly with your sleeve. and then out of the corner of your eye–

hoshina’s watching you with a half-interested look–a look more interested and engaged with you than any other time in the past few weeks–and you think the sight of that makes you angrier–so unbelievably angry, paired with new fire from alcohol underneath. 

you turn to grab hoshina by the collar, glaring up at him–

“hey, now,” hoshina says with a light laugh. “had a little too much to drink, darling?”

darling.

oh, this fucking jackass–you think you almost see red, your teeth grinding together, and you can almost feel your lips peeling back in the facsimile of a snarl. 

“you don’t get to call me that,” you whisper, voice shaking with anger, “not after you’ve fucking blown me off for weeks, soshiro.”

hoshina’s crimson eyes open a little more, staring down at you, right where your hand tightens against his shirt. you’re lucky that the hubbub of the party is keeping everyone from staring at you, which you’re furtively grateful for. you think, that maybe you see hurt reflected in his eyes, but that’s fucking ridiculous. why does he deserve to hurt? he’s the one who fucking blew you off, who didn’t talk to you for weeks despite the two of you clearly reciprocating feelings. what did he have to hurt over? 

“i’m sorry,” hoshina mutters, and he leans forward–

“don’t fucking TOUCH me!”

your voice is louder than you’d like, and that gets a couple eyes on you.

your face feels red, and you drop hoshina’s shirt. hoshina’s eyes are still watching you, his gaze unreadable for a moment before he turns to the eyes watching you, a warm smile–a clear facade, loud and clear to you, but imperceptible to most others. you know hoshina, now–you’d watched him, studied him with intensity. he couldn’t hide from you, even if he wanted to. which made the fact he’d spent weeks ignoring you more infuriating–which made this current facade, a pretending thing–so much more infuriating.

“sorry, everyone,” hoshina says. “seems like our lovely engineer here might’ve had a little too much to drink. come on, i’ll walk you back.” he looks back down at you.

his eyes have that same strange hurt still reflected in his eyes.

something about it tears your heart across unevenly. 

“okay,” you say stupidly, and you let hoshina handle your body, swing your arm over his shoulder as he pulls you up. 

the walk back sobers you up just enough–enough to realize that you’re absolutely fucking mortified–did you seriously grab him? but the better question was why didn’t he stop you? why had he just let you yell at him? why had he looked at you like that, with hurt and something like pity in his eyes? and you couldn’t even figure out what you were more mad at–

could he have done it because he thought he deserved it? 

hoshina opens up the door to your dormitory, letting you make your way to your bed. you slumped down, pressing your back against where your bed met the wall. 

“i’ll leave you alone,” hoshina murmurs. “get some rest.”

you’re angry again, upon hearing him say that. how could a guy like him push your buttons so easily? 

“so you’re just going to leave again?” you snap. “how the fuck is that fair? that’s all you’ve been fucking doing, leaving me even though all i want is to talk.  i thought you liked me!”

you hate how your voice cracks at the end, and you raise up your legs to hug them to your chest. “i thought you fucking liked me,” you whisper. “and you won’t let me talk to you, won’t let me get close–what the fuck was the point of saying you loved me if this is what you’re going to do? it’d be so much less cruel to break my heat, just say no…”

hoshina’s silent.

way too silent.

“i’m sorry,” hoshina says, and he leans down, drops on the bed next to you–the bed sags beneath his weight, and he raises a hand to touch where your hand hugs your knees to your chest–but you move away. you hate the way you almost relish in the way he seems hurt, but he places his hand between the two of you, a mediating bridge. “you can hit me, if you want.”

“what?”

you stare at him, your gaze incredulous. 

hoshina’s gaze is painfully soft, mixed with that strange pity. as if he deserves this.

“i’d deserve it,” hoshina murmurs. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m not going to hit you!” you say. “what would the point of that be? to prove yourself that you don’t deserve love? to prove to yourself you weren’t good enough? even though this is all your fault–”

hoshina’s gaze flickers at your words.

“that’s it, isn’t it? all part of your weird complex where you deny yourself things that you want!” you lean forward, reaching out to grasp him by the shirt. “so i was just fucking collateral damage to you?” you tumble for a moment, pushing him flat onto his back. he looks up at you, his lips parted for a moment. you feel your grip shaking for a moment, and your vision grows blurry– your eyes burn with tears as you shake. “i told you i knew what i wanted, you fucking idiot! i wanted you! i still want you!”

through blurred vision, you can see your tears dripping onto hoshina’s face–and hoshina just watches.

“i don’t care if you don’t think you’re not good enough,” you say through a choked sob. “you’ve always been more than good enough to me. do you get that? no, actually. you didn’t–because if you did you would have just talked to me like a normal fucking person!” you laugh desperately, crazily, almost–you feel fucking crazed. “and i’ve been driving myself mad! because of you!”

hoshina raises a hand to touch your cheek.

“take some fucking responsibility,” you rasp, tugging at his shirt. “take some responsibility for this! for what you’ve done to me!”

what a horrible thing love was.

your heart feels like it’s on fire, burned and scorched earth.

“i’m sorry,” hoshina repeats, simply. “you’re right.”

he leans up to press his forehead against yours, and you tremble.

“i was scared,” hoshina whispers. “that the things i’d said to kafka and the others–that you’d never know when you’d lose the people you love–that it’d come true. i was determined to shut myself out–make myself unknown again. i couldn’t–cross the boundary. to let myself have love. or anything like it. not from you.”

he sighs, gently nudging you to let him up. he leans close to you, presses his head against the wall to watch you. his gaze–this exact gaze, you’ve missed it. missed the way he watched you, with brimming fondness–and yet here you can see so clearly that there’s desperate pain in his eyes–bubbling and brimming just underneath the surface.

“i was struck by how much i wanted it. love. you. all of this. and i was scared because it could all just disappear so quickly,” hoshina continues. his hand touches your face, and you let that calloused touch, the familiar touch against your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose, your upper lip. “i didn’t–want to lose it. so i figured i could’ve just been happy with a little.”

“you fucking idiot,” you whisper in venomous response.

“yeah.” hoshina doesn’t deny it.

“i’ll give it to you,” you respond. “love. no matter how much you think you don’t deserve it. you don’t even have to ask.”

when hoshina looks at you again, he seems almost fractured at the possibility of it.

“i know,” he murmurs. 

“i love you,” you say, and your voice trembles for a moment. “you fucking awful piece of shit.”

hoshina laughs weakly.

“i deserve that,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i promise i do.”

you shake your head. 

“i know that,” you say. you reach out a hand to touch his face, and you can feel the smile forming on his face.

“okay,” he murmurs. “okay.”

[the-odd-shu]

No one is coming to save me (Silco x Reader)

Part 1 -> Next Part

Masterlist:

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Word Count: 8k

Summary: In Zaun, it’s kill or be killed. Take or be taken from. Get up or stay down and expect to die. But for some reason, the brothers working The Last Drop aren’t like the rest of the city, and you don’t understand why.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

The bones of your knuckles jerked painfully when they collided hard with the Enforcer’s jaw. You heard and felt the hinge of his jaw joint crack and pop as the blow dislocated it. The man howled, hands dropping his gun to fly up to cradle his limply hanging mouth. 

He left his side open, so you took the opportunity and drove your knee up and into it. The breath punched from his lungs. His lower jaw swung up from the force of the blow and slammed his teeth deep into his tongue. Blood sprayed across the alley wall. 

He dropped to his knees, wheezing and groaning, beside his companions. Two more Enforcers, bleeding out from stab wounds, one with your knife still driven deep into his belly. Leaving it embedded there would give him more time to be saved. But your own world was also spinning too fast for you to stoop and tug it free. 

Across from you, Sevika finished up with her own Enforcer, and annoyingly looked to be in much better shape than you. That was probably because she did the whole fighting thing as a job, whilst you merely stumbled through poorly memorised moves in a desperate attempt to keep on breathing.

“You good over there, Runt?” She called, before spitting out a glob of red phlegm. 

You wrinkled your nose at her. “Fine.” You returned simply, refusing to admit that your stomach was killing you. The moment the last Enforcer had gone down, you’d wrapped your arm tightly across it, feeling the familiar burn of a stab wound shift under the pressure. The blade hadn’t been very long, so you were fairly certain you’d be fine anyway.

“Good.” Sevika continued, “I don’t want to waste time dragging you to a healer.” She glanced up and down the alley for effect. “This was fun, same time next week?” “Only if we meet somewhere warm where Enforcers won’t decide to take a swing at us.” You argued, to which she huffed a humourless laugh out of her nose.

Where Sevika revelled in violence, you preferred to avoid it where you could. Medical supplies were expensive, even on this side of the river after all; crappy as they were. 

“Noted. See you around, Runt.” She saluted you, before she turned sharply on her heel and began striding away. “Don’t linger.” She added over her shoulder, “when they don’t return home on time, more will come.” “I know!” You snapped back, but she was already gone.

Huffing out a tired breath, you turned to take the opposite exit out of the alleyway. Every step was agony, but you were of the stubborn sort. And dying here wasn’t an option. 

The streets passed by in a blur of green lights and quiet chatter once you slipped out of the alley. It was late enough that all but the red light district were beginning to close their storefronts for the night. 

You tried to straighten up once you entered your neighbourhood. Aware of the thugs that lurked around these parts. Any signs of injury or weakness, was a sure fire way to end up backed into a second alley to be shaken down of anything valuable. 

You were planning to return to your place, tucked above the sushi bar. To the quiet, one room apartment that housed your mattress on the floor and a small box of personal items. But then you caught a whiff of something delicious smelling wafting out of the ajar door of The Last Drop, and all thoughts of sleep and patching yourself up swiftly took a backseat. There was nothing more miserable than laying in bed, injured and hungry after all.

The establishment was quiet at this time of night, but no less welcoming. Vander just had that effect on people though. He was an oddity in Zaun. Kind, where most were brittle and suspicious. Warm, where he should be defensive and distant.

Despite hardly knowing you outside of a strict bartender and client relationship, he always welcomed you into his establishment regardless of the hour or the state you were in. It was almost guaranteed that he would offer up a warm bowl of leftovers from the kitchen, regardless of if you had coin on you or not. 

So yeah, Vander was an oddity down here on this side of the river, but he was also a god sent. 

Shouldering open the heavy door, the warmth of the quiet bar washed over you, like a tender hand pushing your hair back from your face. For one blissful moment, the pain of your stomach and throbbing knuckles ebbed away to make room for the quiet lul of ‘Our Love’ playing softly on the jukebox in the back, and the smell of something hearty and homey drifting through the air, with only a slight undertone of stale alcohol. 

Vander’s soothing voice called your name from behind the bar, a hand raised in greeting as if you wouldn’t see him amongst the empty tables and chairs and only two other people in the building. Backlit by the yellow overhead light, he looked genuinely happy to see you, which was also odd.

“About time you showed up,” Vander continued to speak in a cheerful tone, “I was beginning to think you’d finally curled up in an alley somewhere to die.” You snorted, the sound obnoxious and loud against the soft melody of the music. Oh how close he was to being right. 

“You wish.” You returned good naturedly. Arm still wrapped tightly over your bleeding stomach, you strode towards the bar.

Silco had his back to you as he scribbled in one of his notebooks, a sweating glass spreading condensation on the countertop before him. Whilst Felicia turned on her elbow to grin at you over her shoulder, her purple braid sliding off of her shoulder to hang down her back.

The sparkle in her eye had your hackles raising as they often did around her. She was a playful spirit, eager to poke and prod the bear to see how far she could push it before it snapped. It was unfortunate that more often than not you were the bear in almost every scenario. 

“Oh great, your stray cat decided to wander home for dinner, Vander.” She mused, tone light and jolly despite her choice of words. “I hope you’ve got something left over.”

You felt your expression tighten ever so subtly at the light jab.  “Fuck you, Felicia.” You ground out with no real bite. A reflexive greeting at this point.

Her grin only grew, eyes practically lighting up with mirth. 

“But you are kind of like a cat, aren’t you? Mangy little thing like you. Always getting into fights and hiding in dark corners. Sweet on one person in particular, or the guy offering you food.” 

Okay, ouch, that was slightly sharper than usual. 

And to top it off, Vander was merely watching the pair of you interact instead of playing referee like he usually would. Whereas Silco hadn’t even looked up from his notebook, his pencil still scratching away at whatever he was working on.

You fixed Felicia with an unimpressed glare, “you’re in a pleasant mood this evening? Something unpleasant crawl up your ass by any chance?” 

With great care, you pulled the stool beside her out from under the counter, and clambered up onto it. The movement pulled at the split skin of your stomach and made the wound ooze, but you’d wandered around with worse in the past. This wasn’t the kind of injury that would knock you out any time soon, it was bleeding too sluggishly, and so long as you didn’t do anything stupid like running, it would keep until you trundled home with a full belly. 

Felicia wrinkled her nose as you sat, eyes tracking your careful movements, but she did not comment. Stood behind her own stool, twirling the straw of a cup of orange juice, she suddenly broke eye contact. 

Her previous bravado spluttered out as she absently muttered under her breath, “oh nothing. I just found out I’m pregnant is all.”

Your eyes promptly bugged out of your head at the casual admission. Any thoughts of wounds, and food promptly took a backseat, as you spun your stool to study your friend, and only then did you see the slant of her shoulders, the bravado that was just a touch too strong to be real. “Oh shit-!” you blurted out, before the words promptly failed you. Scrambling for support, your eyes jumped across the bar, only to find that Vander had suddenly vanished into the back, and then to Silco at the other end of the counter, who was calmly sipping at his drink, expression carefully blank. Something about his calmness struck a nerve in you. 

“You knew!?” You accused sharply, and his eyes widened in shock at suddenly being addressed.

He recovered quickly. “Oh don’t play up the wounded party, she told us just moments before you stumbled in the door.” He dropped his gaze, and began to stare at his notebook again. He didn’t pick up his pencil again, nor did he really begin reading over his notes. His eyes were stuck at one point on the page, instead of tracking along the lines of messy handwriting. Guilty. The actions read, and you felt yourself frown.

Felicia was back to grinning when you snapped your head back to her. “How far along are you?” You blurted. You didn’t know anything about kids, and had never been around a pregnant person before. Didn’t she need to sit down? Were pregnant people allowed to drink juice? Why wasn’t anyone freaking out?

Felicia snorted outright at your expression then, the sound helping to ground you. 

“A couple of weeks, I think.” She said simply, “I was late this month, and low and behold, this is why.” “Okay.” You said, and then blurted, like an idiot. “Are we keeping it?”

Felicia’s grin morphed into something gleeful and predatory. “We?” She parrotted back. 

You backtracked like your life depended on it. “You!” You corrected, desperately schooling your expression into something smooth and calm - you knew you were failing. “Are you planning to keep it?” Felicia’s smile did not change. “Don’t just dart away from that misstep,” she teased, “you do consider yourself our friend after all!”

It was an old argument. One where you stubbornly refused to admit that the trio had grown on you during your evenings spent here in their presence, and one that Felicia reveled in trying to prove you wrong with your own actions.

Like the time Vander cut his arm open on a broken bottle, and you’d stupidly turned up to the bar an hour later with a freshly stolen bottle of disinfectant from across the bridge. The good kind. The one that would’ve cost anyone their month’s salary to obtain.

Or the time, Felicia had fallen ill for several days, and you’d turned up to her door to ensure she hadn’t keeled over and died. To which she had mocked you viciously, between bouts of coughing under her partner’s exasperated gaze. 

She was grinning even now as you disregarded her claim, and scrambled for an excuse. “I’m asking because I linger around this place too. And if I’m going to continue to exist in this place nine months from now, I have the right to know if little goblins are going to begin popping out of the woodwork.”

Silco huffed into his drink, but neither of you acknowledged him. Felicia only met your gaze with open fondness in her expression.

“Yes, I think I am keeping her.” She said absently, “though I haven’t told Connol yet.” “Ah.” “Yeah.” The silence that momentarily sizzled between you was heavy. “Do you need some to go with you when you tell him?” You offered, like a dumbass. Stupidly showing your hand to her for the second time in one night.

To your surprise, the offer wasn’t met with amusement or ribbing. Felicia’s smile was suddenly small and genuine. “No, I’ll be okay.” She said simply. 

And you nodded, because she would be. She had chosen a good man after all. Connol wouldn’t blow up about something like this. He was the quiet kind. And you knew he genuinely loved Felicia, simply from observing how the pair existed in each other's presence. No, she would be absolutely fine, you knew.

“Okay,” you relented easily, before adding, “but if you need someone to smack him upside the head, you know where to find me.” She shook her head at that. “Uh, no, I don’t actually, because no one can ever pin you down, unless you’re here. And even then, your visits are too infrequent and far between, for me to predict when you’ll actually show up.” It was your turn to grin then. “How else do you think I’ve survived this long?” Vander chose then to duck out of the kitchen, a bowl of something steaming in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I’d like to think my hospitality and good cooking has helped you a little.” He joked, setting the bowl down before you with little flourish.

He must have seen the hunger in your gaze, because he didn’t even make you ask for it or to use your manners tonight. With little fanfare, he pushed the bowl towards you, set the spoon down, and then slid a napkin over.

You thanked him regardless, and eagerly dove in. The soup was warm as it went down, thick and flavourful, with carrot chunks breaking up the thick texture every now and again. The soothed the gnawing of your gut, and the warmth eased some of the pain of your muscles. 

You were still bleeding sluggishly, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it had. 

Vaguely, you could hear the other three falling back into easy conversation. They’d spent enough time in one another's company for it to be familiar. Between working elbow to elbow in the mines, and wasting their evenings away in the bar, you couldn’t exactly blame them. 

Even Silco spoke up every now and again. Chipping in when the conversation lulled to jab playfully at Vander, or correct one of Felicia’s teasing remarks to make it land even a touch more effectively. They had a weird dynamic from an outside perspective, but after being slowly but gradually absorbed into their bubble over the past few months, you could see now how beautifully they worked together.

It kind of made you wonder where you fit into the jigsaw puzzle sometimes. You certainly weren’t around enough to be a reliable friend, which definitely played into Felicia’s stray cat analogy. But when you did turn up, sometimes after days or a week of no contact, they welcomed you back as if you’d never left. As if you just fit. 

They were strange people really. And perhaps that was what had initially intrigued you enough to stick around in the beginning. 

Your spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and you realised with a start that you had already eaten all of it. Gods did Vander make a mean soup, you would’ve gladly eaten another two bowls of it without complaint.

Setting your spoon down in the bowl, you quietly pushed both away, before dabbing at your mouth with the napkin. That too was deposited into the waiting bowl. 

The warmth of the food and the calm of the atmosphere was definitely getting to you now. The soothing melody of ‘Our Love’ had trailed off somewhere during your conversation with Felicia, and had morphed into another slow, jazzy number. The combination of the music, the warmth, and the safety of having people you trusted only an arms breadth away, had your eyes dropping and your head slowly but surely dipping lower and lower towards the counter.

The other three were too engrossed in their conversation to pay much mind to you, which worked in your favour. Resting your arm on the counter, you allowed yourself to slowly slump forward, pressing your forehead down into your forearm as a makeshift pillow. Eyes slipping closed, you spared half a thought to tighten your other arm around your belly in a futile attempt to keep more of your blood inside. The pressure from your curled up position should stem the bleeding long enough for you to have a quick power nap, and then you could slip out to patch yourself up and have a proper, long sleep. 

It was just too nice of an atmosphere to leave now. 

Your eyelids slipped closed. You heard your bowl being taken away, heard glasses clink and the trio lower their voices even more. How considerate.

“Silco, give me your jacket.” “Why my jacket? Use your jacket?” A beat of silence.

“Do you see my jacket lying around anywhere?”

Quiet grumbling.

Soft footsteps, the rustling of fabric. 

The sound of a boot stepping into a puddle. 

The quiet conversation in the background abruptly cut off. 

“Did someone spill their beer there earlier?” Vander’s voice filtered in amongst the fuzz of sleep. More rustling, the whisper of a washcloth being picked up.

The sound of boots squelching once more as their owner’s weight shifted. A voice close to your side. “Vander, you didn’t have any orders for cranberry juice tonight, did you?” “Course not. You know we’re waiting for the next shipment.” Movement. Skin-warmed leather being placed carefully over your shoulders. Someone crouching down by the foot of your stool.

“It’s blood.” Silco’s voice was weirdly blank. 

“Shouldn’t be. There were no fights tonight.” Felicia spoke up. 

More silence. And it was so quiet, that you actually heard the sound of a heavy bead of liquid dripping into an existing puddle. 

The arm cinched around your waist was numb from the pressure of having your torso curled tightly over it. 

“Shit.” Silco swore, voice weirdly weak and breathless. And then hands were on your shoulders, trying to rouse you. You groaned as the movement jolted your stomach, and threatened to pull you out of your pleasant drifting state.

“-fuck off…” you tiredly grumbled, shoving your face further into the warmth and pleasant darkness of your forearm.

“Silco.” Vander began to reprimand, “don’t wake them, I’ll clean it up later-”

“It’s their blood, Vander. They’re bleeding.” Silco sharply returned, and then his shaking became more insistent. You grumbled louder. He didn’t let up. And then there was a larger hand gently tapping your fingers splayed on the counter. A presence right in front of you. Boxing you in.

Awareness slammed back into you, and you shot upright, hands shooting out to scramble at the bar counter, when you almost launched yourself completely off of your stool. Vander, who had been standing across from you, startled backwards, whilst Silco suddenly appeared at your elbow to steady you. The latter’s hands were slim but firm on your bicep, his jacket sliding off of your shoulders and thudding heavily to the floor.

Felicia hovered on the verge of your vision. Horror painted plainly on her expression as she stared at the counter. Blinking awareness back into your vision, you followed her gaze to find bruising knuckles, and your bloodied hand leaving smears across the freshly cleaned wood. Your sleeve was entirely soaked through with scarlet, <i>so much</i> scarlet, that it had dripped downwards with gravity to drip off your fingertips. 

“Shit. Fuck.” You blurted, yanking the hand off the wood to try and stem the mess it was making, only for the evidence of its presence to be plainly left behind. “Sorry, I didn’t think I was bleeding that bad.” You sheepishly chuckled, voice strained and stomach throbbing.

Silco’s hand was still wrapped around your bicep, and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let go as you glanced down to the floor to see a small puddle of blood at the foot of your stool too. Shit, that was embarrassing. What a mess.

The adrenaline of such an abrupt wake up had completely banished all thoughts of rest and sleep from your face, as you turned back to Vander and very evenly asked for the mop. He stared back at you as if you were an enigma, instead of a patron willingly asking for the tools to clean up their own mess. Honestly, what kind of establishment was he even running here? If you had bled all over the counter at the pub down the road, the owner would be using your face to clean up the spill. 

“You’re still fucking bleeding, you idiot!” Felicia barked, promptly shattering whatever weird tension had kept everyone rooted to the spot. 

Her sharp tone had your hackles rising like usual. Your eyebrows drew tightly together, as you snapped your attention to her, as she pushed off of the counter and hurriedly rounded the end to stoop for the cupboard Vander kept the first aid kit in - when had you hung around so often that you seemed to just know that anyway?

“Well, I’m sorry.” You snapped back, “if I had known it was this much, I would’ve left right after finishing the food instead of nodding off.” Reeling back in the bite in your tone, you very seriously turned back to Vander, who was staring at you in disbelief. “Sorry again about all this,” you motioned to the blood everywhere with your less bloody hand, “I’ll clean it up before I go, I swear.”

Your words finally snapped Vander out of his stupor. “I’m not mad about the mess.” He said evenly. 

Your brows furrowed. “You’re-, not?”

“No.” He said evenly. “But I am royally pissed that you didn’t mention you were injured beforehand.” Your expression shuttered at that. “Because it’s none of your business.” Silco sucked in a breath at that. As if you’d said something wrong. 

Vander’s expression mirrored your assumption. His brows drawing together, and his arms beginning to cross, as if he was standing firm. “Under my roof,” he began, tone reminiscent of a dad lecturing his unruly child, “your welfare is my business.”

You squinted back at him. “You’re so fucking strange sometimes.” You mumbled.

Vander just shook his head and motioned to Silco. And like clockwork, the pair worked in unison to hoist you off of your bar stool and onto the counter. You yelped at the change of position, at the ease in which Vander lifted you, and the careful way Silco offered back up support. 

“I could’ve done it!” You protested, feeling like a reprimanded child now that you were sat on the lip of the counter, legs hanging over the edge.

“Best not to move you too much.” Vander replied evenly, “don’t want anything tearing because you can’t swallow your pride.” You glared down at him, as Felicia returned with the first aid kit, her own expression stern as she came to stand on the side of the bar Vander was on.

Behind you, you heard Silco redirecting his attention to his fallen jacket, whilst the duo before you levelled you with a look that had every instinct within you wanting to shrivel up and hide.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Felicia snapped, her expression screaming ‘I’m mad at you’.

“Like what?” You bit back.

“Like you’re going to bolt.” 

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, but Vander set his heavy hand on your knee before you could so much as shift. “Ignore her, she’s just worried.” He soothed, his deep voice level and stern. “Now, show me where you’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t a request. 

Expression set into a scowl, you carefully pulled your jacket open, to display the blood stain gradually spreading across the front of your threadbare shirt. Huh, that was a lot more blood than you’d been expecting. Earlier, it had only been a line of red, and now most of your stomach was sticky from the shirt clinging to your wet skin. 

Felicia sucked in a sharp breath. Vander’s expression didn’t change. 

Shrugging off the jacket entirely, you pulled the shirt up next, and let that flop down with a wet splat on the counter beside you. It was just warm enough in the bar for your skin to not break out in goosebumps from the cold. Although you did feel very uncomfortable, being examined by the bartender and a mouthy woman you might decide to call your friend one day, with a third potential friend lingering behind you somewhere.

Behind you, you could hear Silco puttering around the place. Could hear him stride up to the front door of the establishment and flick the lock, before tugging down the blinds. 

Your attention was wrestled back to the present when Felicia promptly took the reins. It quickly became apparent that she had more medical knowledge between her and Vander as she began examining and then cleaning your stab wound. Leaning back on your hands to give her more space, you glared up at the ceiling as she worked and Vander assisted her.

The ghost of fingertips on your skin was an odd sensation. It wasn’t violent, or predatory, or unkind, but nor was it soothing or nice. It just felt odd. Unless you were in a fight or stuck in the middle of a crowd, you weren’t touched a lot and certainly not like you were something worth being careful with.

“What happened?” Vander spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to the moment at hand. And unfortunately, drawing your attention to the feeling of a needle dipping into and out of your skin. Your teeth ground together at the pinching sensation, but it was by no means the worse pain you've dealt with tonight. 

Resolutely glaring at the ceiling, you kept your response short. “Ran into some blue bellies.” “Oh.” Vander prompted, encouraging you to elaborate.

“I was with Sevika. They wrongly thought we were the right people to fuck with.” The words came out easily, but felt weird being spoken in the setting of the bar. You didn’t talk about yourself here. You rarely mentioned friends or colleagues to these people. Hardly spoke about yourself at all really, besides the fact that you liked Vander’s cooking and loved to have verbal spars with Felicia regardless of how tired you were.

Vander sighed. “You know this will have repercussions right-?” “What did you want me to do?” You snapped back, fixing him with a venomous glare. “Let them threaten me with my own knife, whilst I sat still and looked pretty?” “Of course not-” Vander tried to soothe, only for Silco to reappear out of seemingly nowhere.

He had his jacket back on now, as he strode in from the door that led to the apartment at the back of the establishment. He had a pile of clothes in hand, which he carefully set down on a part of the counter not covered in blood.

“Did you kill them all?” He asked seriously, something sharp entering his voice. If you were delusional, or had lost a little more blood, you might have mistaken the hatred in his tone for protectiveness or concern. But of course you didn’t, because why would anyone feel protective of you? 

You tried to imagine it. Someone like Silco, who was lean and easily snappable, going up against armed and trained enforcers in your defence. It was a comical image.

Instead of dwelling on the thought, you allowed your expression to split into a dangerous grin. “None of them will be leaving that alley in a hurry if they did survive.” Silco nodded once. “Good.” He said, sounding like he meant it. With a final tug of the medical thread and a smooth snip of scissors, Felicia took a step back to examine your neatly stitched up wound. “That should hold if you’re careful.” “Thank you.” You returned easily, “just give me a few days, and I can replace the thread-” “No need.” Vander was quick to reassure. “That’s what it’s there for.” You frowned. “I don’t recall reading on the door, that stitching up patrons is one of your house policies?” “Maybe not, but it’s <i>my</i> policy.” Vander said reasonably, “just like I’m going to insist you change into these,” he pushed the clothes towards you, “and stay the night.” You outright snorted then. “Yeah, no, that’s how people end up dead.”

Vander, like the good man he was, did not take offence to what you were implying. “Somehow, I feel like you’ll be safer staying here for the night, than going back out there like this.” He reasoned sensibly. “You’ll have access to food, and pain medication, and I’ll even upgrade you to the bedroom with the lockable door.” “Oh how generous.” You drooled back. 

“He’s not joking, you know.” Silco spoke up once more from behind you. You glanced back to find he had picked up his notebook and pencil, with the latter now tucked behind his ear. “Until that wound scabs over, you’re not going anywhere.” You scoffed. “You can’t keep me here.” “No.” Silco agreed, “but he’s the kind of man to send people out to keep tabs on you if you do disappear.” You turned back to Vander, expression searching. Unapologetically, he shrugged. “Can’t help that I care about my friends.” He said by way of explanation. 

You liked to pretend it was against your will that you did in fact stay the night. You liked to think that you bargained and bitched enough to almost make them relent, but in reality, you were exhausted. The clothes you changed into were a little big on you, but they were warm and clean. And it turned out that the room you were shown to did in fact have a lock on the back, and a comfortable bed.

It had to be one of their rooms, but you were too tired to pick out any personal effects. If anything, you were more amazed that the little room had a window with <i>closable</i> blinds, rather than who it belonged to. 

>_<

You knew there was a good reason why you never told Vander who you spent your days with when you weren’t free loading off of his business. You knew it was smarter not to mention anyone outside of the bar. It was a shame you hadn’t stuck to your gut whilst bleeding out that one night.

Sevika’s name had slipped out by accident. And had been such a fleeting moment, you’d assumed he hadn’t really clocked it. Let alone recognise it. But no, you just had to fall in with the nosy sort. And even better, the nosy sort with connections.

Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this situation, having just finished a job with Sevika, knuckles freshly bloodied, and your breath sawing in and out of you, only for your comrade to abruptly turn to you and ask how you knew Vander.

Your heart had just about dropped out of your ass.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because he was asking around for you.” She said simply, as if two worlds had not just collided. As if you hadn’t just had the sickening realisation that somehow Sevika and Vander KNEW each other. Or at least orbited similar enough social circles for their paths to cross.

You had to work very hard to keep your expression neutral as your mind raced and tripped over itself, trying to figure out why Vander would be looking for you of all people. 

You hadn’t done anything different. You hadn’t stepped on toes in his area of the neighbourhood. Not to mention, your injury had been weeks ago, the wound neatly scarring. He and Felicia had stopped asking after it a week or so ago. There was no reason for him to be asking after you. 

“Did he mention why he was looking for me?” You asked super calmly. 

Sevika shook her head. “No, just asked for me to send you his way if I came across you.”

“Okay, that’s weird.” You said, more to yourself than Sevika, who hummed in agreement.

“Very.” Sevika agreed, and then she turned serious “But a word to the wise, don’t keep him waiting if you know what’s good for you. Vander may act like a docile little teddy bear, but he’s still got claws.”

And just like that, you were presented with a glimpse of how the rest of the Undercity viewed Vander. Of his reputation of being that dangerous, over protective kind of guy. The kind of guy that had the Enforcers steering clear of his bar and the streets that coiled around it. It matched up well with the image you’d had of him before you’d gotten to know him.

“Well then, we done here?” You prompted, suddenly anxious to get to the bar and tell Vander to stop spreading your name around. That’s how people get noticed. That’s how people end up with targets on their back.

Sevika made a show of counting out the bills in her hand stolen from some Enforcer’s pocket. It had been a quiet day out in the furthest reaches of the Lanes, fucking with Enforcer patrols to make money and occupy yourselves. 

“Yeah, just about.” She agreed, before cleanly splitting the money in two and shoving half of the wad towards you.

“What? Not going to deal me out of a few notes? Take a personal bonus again?” You ribbed before smartly taking the offered cash and promptly tucking it into one of the inner pockets of your jacket. 

She snorted. “No. You did good today, Runt.” Was all she said, before pocketing her own cash, and leaving with a quick ruffle of your hair. 

You watched her go with a fond wrinkle of your nose. What a strange woman. Yet another oddity living amongst the Lanes of Zaun, but could you really be surprised at this point? It almost felt like you were becoming a magnet for the kinder folks of the city. Odd.

Money safely tucked out of sight, you stuffed your hand into your pockets and headed for the heart of the city, towards the glowing, green sign of The Last Drop. It was perhaps an hour or two before the establishment opened for the night in preparation for the miners who would be crawling out of their work sites, and the more criminal side of the city beginning to awaken.

The door was unlocked when you pushed on it, so you let yourself in.

As it often was at this time of afternoon, the bar within was practically deserted. The tables neatly wiped down, condiments lined up in uniform formation, chairs tucked under tables, the carpet recently cleaned. 

A lone figure stood behind the bar, polishing glasses, his back to the door and you, but you knew he’d heard the door open regardless.

“I heard you’re looking for me.” You called, as you strode confidently up to the counter.

Vander turned smoothly on his heel, a grin already tugging at his lip. His five o’clock shadow was beginning to darken his jawline already, which was strange, considering he openly hated the feeling of the tiny bristles beginning to poke through. “Ah good, you’re here.” “That I am.” You agreed, before pulling out a stool and smoothly dropping into it. It was the same one you usually took, thankfully without the blood splatter today. “Although, I wasn’t expecting to be called to heel like some common dog, want to tell me what that was about?”

At the very least, he had the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know how else to get ahold of you.”

Okay, fair enough. You could give him that. You were a difficult individual to pin down after all. “It’s fine, just don’t make it a habit.” You warned. “But it must have been serious, if you felt the need to invite me in instead of allowing me to make my way over on my own time.”

He shook his head at your theatrics. Then seemed to collect himself. Turning fully towards you, he set down his cleaned glass, tossed his rag over his shoulder, and fixed you with a very serious look that had you instinctively straining in your chair. “Look, you know I love our little social calls, but today I need a favour.”

Oh. 

You weren’t entirely sure why that struck a chord in you, but you made sure to cover it up regardless. So today wasn’t going to be fun, that was fine. If Vander finally wanted to make your presence in his establishment useful, who were you to push back.

“I see,” you said evenly, sitting back against the small backrest of the stool before crossing your arms. You tucked the sour feeling in your chest behind an amused smirk. “Oh, please do tell. What exactly could the Hound of the Underground, the Beastly Bartender of The Last Drop, need from little old me.”

Vander huffed quietly and shook his head at you. He stood on his own two feet behind the bar, and yet he still seemed to tower over you. “You’ve done your research.” He commented evenly.

You tipped your head to the side and shrugged noncommittally. “Eh, it’s hard to ignore whispers when they’re directly hissed into your ear.” You dismissed easily, before purposefully catching his gaze. “But seriously, what is it?” Vander huffed again, this time more heavily. More tiredly. He seemed to gather himself. “It’s about Silco.”

Your breath stuttered on its way into your nose. You felt yourself freeze up as your mind violently thrust you into horrifying scenarios of all the ways said man could have horrendously died in the short time since you’d last seen him.

“Is he okay?” You asked carefully, not entirely sure if you managed to keep all of the panic out of your voice. 

Vander’s own expression blanched as he no doubt understood how his phrase had come across. “Yes. Yes! He’s fine! More or less.” He was quick to reassure, almost with a frantic urgency. You found your breath came a little easier with the admission. “A little roughed up from a mine collapsing on us, but he’s okay. I just need someone to watch him.”

You blinked at him.

Vander winced back at you.

You unfolded your arms so that you could rub harshly at the bridge of your nose with a forefinger and thumb. “Vander. Did you cause ripples across town, to get me to come here and babysit your brother?”

Vander smiled shakily. “Uh, friend actually. We’re not blood related.”

“You’re practically family. Even a blind man could see it.” You deadpanned, “now answer my fucking question.” “Yes, okay? Yes. And look, I <i>know</i> he can be a handful, but that’s why I need your help. I need to work the bar tonight, so I can’t be out back to make sure he’s okay. I’ve already tried to bring in Felicia, but she’s given up on him. He’s mean when he’s in pain, and with her pregnancy symptoms she has no patience to spare for him.”

It’s almost laughable how in character that sounded for Silco. 

“Just for tonight?” You checked, and Vander nodded. The crease between his eyebrows had already begun to loosen, as if he already knew your answer. But he didn’t know you that well. Did he?

You pretended to weigh the pros and cons for a few seconds more. Pulling a contemplating and then thoughtful face at random intervals to make Vander snort. To help ease some of the tension out of his shoulders.

Finally, you leant back on your stool once more, and in a very business-like tone you said, “fine, but on one condition.”

Vander played along. With a look of equal intrigue, he leaned on his elbows on the other side of the counter, his head tilting. “I’m listening,” he purred, before adding as an afterthought, “so long as it’s within reason of course.”

You tapped your chin. Once, twice, and then blurted, “I want unmonitored access to the kitchen. Any delicacy you’ve cooked up, I deserve to taste-test it. Understood?”

He almost looked surprised by your ask. As if he had been expecting you to demand something more valuable or difficult to part with. Then a sadder note entered his eyes, and you felt pinned in place. His voice was gentle when he quietly said, “you know you don’t need an excuse for me to feed you right? If you’re hungry, you don’t have to bargain for food, it’s the least I can do.” “Maybe,” you countered, trying to smoothly wipe that expression off his face. Vander’s soft concern should not be aimed at you at all. Not only do you not need it, but you don’t feel like you really deserve it. “But food willingly given, doesn’t taste as good as when it’s stolen.” He sighed tiredly. And straightened up, until he was looking down at you once again. His expression clearly said, ‘I don’t understand you, even though I’m trying to’ but he smartly kept any thoughts like that to himself. 

“This way then, little thief.” He mused, before turning on his heel to emerge from behind the counter and lead you to one of the side doors that would give you access to the private part of the building.

The little nickname sent a pang through you. Not only was it a little too close to your actual job, but it sounded weirdly fond when Vander said it like that. Shoving all those confusing feelings promptly into a mental box, you pushed back your stool and followed. 

Vander led you through the doorway and down a staircase to a set of doors on the level below. One you immediately recognised as the door to the bedroom you’d spent the night in. Whereas the others were unfamiliar. 

With confidence, Vander led the way down the hall to one of the end rooms, which opened out into a living room that sat at the foot of a second set of stairs.

The room was on the smaller side, with enough space for a couple of couches, a coffee table and a chest of drawers. A ratty brown rug covered up the cold flagstones under the foot of the coffee table and stretched out towards both couches. 

A small fire burned low in the grate at the far end of the room, whilst a figure shrouded in a red blanket sat curled up on the couch closest to the flames. Silco sat back against the arm of the chair with his notebook spread out over his knees, and his left hand was strapped up against his chest. His long, black hair was loose around his shoulders, casting his face in shadows, and yet making his blue eyes glow in the low light.

“Ah Vander, it seems you’ve tracked down a fresh nurse for me to torture.” “You’re in a better mood than when I walked Felicia out.” Vander countered.

The blanketed man on the couch merely grinned in response, and motioned with his pencil at the glass of water and non-descript pill bottle on the coffee table by his feet. “They finally decided to kick in.” “Good.” Vander said, and with a searching look over his younger brother, he turned to you, and began listing rapid fire care instruction. “He needs another round of those pills in two hours. You can get water from behind the bar, and I’ll have dinner ready at eight.” “Noted.” You easily agreed.

“Oh, and if he starts giving you a hard time, just ignore him. He’s a glut for attention.” With that last parting nugget of wisdom, Vander patted your shoulder in camaraderie before turning for the stairs.

Silco glared at his back. “Don’t be giving away all my secrets now.” He drawled like a drama queen, to which Vander took his own advice and ignored him. The click of the door closing behind him settled a stiff tension on the little living room.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, suddenly unsure of yourself. You were used to existing on the edge of social groups, and had only ever been alone with Vander, and in pairs with the others of the trio. To suddenly be all alone with Silco, was embarrassingly daunting. 

The man in question, chose then to sigh obnoxiously, and look up from the notebook he was scribbling in. “Are you just going to stand there all evening?” He demanded.

You made a show of looking around at the empty couches, then threw your hands up as you scrambled for a response. “Do you need anything?” You asked, like an idiot. Of course he didn’t need anything. His medication had just kicked in. Silco did not look impressed. “No.” He said flatly. You nodded, “fine,” before turning and perching your ass on the very edge of the opposite sofa, as far from the fire and Silco as physically possible without sitting on the floor or crawling back up the stairs. You had come down here expecting a mouthy, feverish asshole, not a quiet, bitchy Silco. 

Gradually, the sound of pencil scraping across paper and the occasional pop and fizz of the fire allowed your muscles to relax. You found yourself sitting more comfortably on the couch, and taking out one of your knives to sharpen. It was a pretty little thing, with a wickedly sharp blade the length of your forefinger, and a smooth wooden handle, wrapped in medical tape for a stronger grip.

The grinding of the welt stone down the blade didn’t seem to upset Silco, so you kept at it. Sharpening both sides of the blade, before tucking it away in the sheath tucked in the back of your boot, and pulling out its twin to repeat the process. Then when that was done to a satisfying degree, you sat back and pulled your spare out of your overcoat’s inner pocket. 

That finally seemed to get a reaction out of your companion.

“How many of those could one person possibly need?” “More than I have.” You replied without looking up from your task. “There’s nothing worse than being elbow deep in a fight, ready to deal the finishing blow, only to realise you left one knife in the first fucker you stabbed, lost the next down a storm drain, and the last got smacked into the shadows.” Silco scoffed quietly. “True story by any chance.” “Embarrassingly true.” You agreed gravely, chancing a glance up at him through your lashes.

He sat more comfortably on his cushion on the opposite couch. Body lounging in a loose sprawl, rather than the uptight posture from before. His notebook had vacated to one knee instead of resting on both, whilst his pencil had been tucked behind his ear again. Had he been watching you?

Feeling caught, you flicked your gaze back down to your hands and finished sharpening your last knife. You could feel his eyes on you now, studying the way you held both knife hilt and whetstone.  

The silence had somehow morphed into something comfortable now. 

Enough for you to notice another sound entering the atmosphere. Silco’s quiet grumbling as he pushed at his loosely, sprawling hair. It was longer than you were expecting. Coming down to mid-bicep from what you could tell. 

“Need a hair tie?”

Silco paused in his irritated fussing, to glare at you. Then he pointedly glanced down to his strapped up arm. “Why yes, I would love for you to find amusement as I struggle to fix my hair one-handed! What a doll you are? Thank you for suggesting such torture!” He bitched.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay okay, you big baby.” You mused, allowing the barb to fall short. 

Sliding your knife and whetstone away, you rose from your seat with a groan.

Silco watched you with blatant mistrust in his expression, his body subconsciously leaning back into the couch backrest, away from you. 

Ignoring how he shrunk away, you exuded confidence as you strode towards the fireplace and rounded the back of his couch.

“Hairband?” “What are you doing?” He demanded, turning in place to glare up at you. His hair falling across his shoulders like a sweeping black cloak. 

“I’m going to braid it back for you.” You said simply. “Then it’ll be out of your way, and you won’t have to keep redoing it.” Silco’s scepticism seemed to lose its steam. The knot between his brows began to loosen as he relaxed at the explanation. “Oh.” He said lamely. 

You brushed him off by making a grabbing motion. “Hairband?” 

Jerkily, he held up his good hand to you, where his sleeve slid back up his arm to reveal two worn leather hair bands. You slid one off his wrist and slid it over your own hand.

“Great. Now just sit still and do whatever you usually do.”

At first, he was stubbornly still under your touch. Barely breathing. Barely moving. As if he was expecting a knife to the back and had to be prepared to to deflect a blow at any movement. 

When you proceeded not to try and kill him, or cut off his hair out of spite, he slowly began to unwind. 

His long fringe was lengthy enough for you to scrape it back from his face with the rest of his hair, where you neatly separated everything into three even strands, before beginning the braid low on the back of his head. You kept the loops slack so as not to give him a headache, and allow him to sleep on it later.

Silco visibly relaxed under the attention. His head tipped down towards his notebook, his pencil back in hand even though he wasn’t writing anything.

You got so lost in the task at hand, that you didn’t even register the heavenly smell of Vander’s cooking, until the man in question appeared on the other side of the coffee table, carrying two plates of steaming food. Your hands momentarily stalled in their weaving at the sight of beautifully seared meat, what looked like potatoes and some other root vegetable. Just the smell alone was enough to make your mouth begin to water. 

Vander set both plates on the table, before straightening up with his hands planted on his hips. “Well, that was fast.” He commented cheerfully, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.

Silco huffed. “What was fast?” Silco parroted, attempting to turn his head, only for you to pause braiding to firmly steer his attention forward once more.

“You’re going to fuck it up by moving.” You complained under your breath, to which he sighed again but stayed put. 

Vander’s grin somehow grew even wider. “Well for starters, this morning, you were snapping and spitting at Felicia, and now I walk in on you getting your hair braided.” “It was being inconvenient,” Silco eloquently corrected. 

Vander just shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this happening.” He lamented to himself. 

Silco bristled. “What? What are you on about?” 

“Come on-” You cut in before Vander could get him any more riled up. “Can you tease him after I’m done?” 

Silco seemed to preen, whilst Vander obediently shut his mouth on his bubbling comment. 

Taking it in stride, you confidently added, “you’re just jealous that your hair is too short for braids, Vander.” “Yes, that is exactly it.” The older man agreed sarcastically. Before he fixed Silco with a knowing look, which he promptly glared down. You pretended not to notice as you finally ran out of hair and began to neatly tie the braid off at the tail.

>_<

You stopped by the bar the following day to check up on the brothers, and was pleasantly surprised to find Silco in the main room, with his hair still braided up, whilst Felicia stood beside him and merrily declared them hair twins. 

You tried not to grin too obviously as you strode forward to join in on the conversation.

Part 1 -> Next Part

Masterlist:

[coffeetank]

Writing ROMANTIC TENSION!

When you're writing romance, you need to have TENSION. Your characters need to pull your readers into the story with not just their dialogues, but also their chemistry. What is tension, you ask? It's quite simple. When two people are attracted to each other, or like each other, or are in love with each other, it causes a certain shift in the air. When these two people come together, they seem to outshine everyone else in the room and make it just about themselves (in a good way ofc). This shift in the air which hooks you into the scene is called tension. The chemistry that your main characters carry, will infact carry the whole story --- if you're writing romance, i.e.

How do you write this romantic tension? Well, as someone who's been writing romance for 4 years now, here's a few things I do to show the chemistry between my characters.

Show, don't tell: This is probably the most common advice you'll ever receive. And spoiler alert: IT IS TRUE. Any scene that includes an emotion will require you to show it, visualise it for the crowd instead of just writing it down. Romance, love, is a sensitive emotion. The readers need to SEE it happening, instead of just reading about it. Eye contact, long stares, switching their gaze from the eyes to the lips & back to the eyes, coming close for a few seconds, banter-turned-flirting are some ways you can show the chemistry.

Intimacy is key: Proximity. Closeness. Coming together. Put your characters in situations where they have to work together. Show their differences/similarities in handling tasks and make them argue or slightly quarrel if there's any differences and show them rejoicing if there's an agreement. Intimacy lies in more than just the body, bring out a quality in your characters, preferably a good one, in your characters when they're together. Make that quality their strong suit that drives them closer.

Words are sexy: Dialogues can create tension better than anything else (in my opinion). Notice how every time your ships/pairings are bantering, one of them ends up saying something sexual or romantic in a frisky way and we end up blushing like crazy? Yep, that's the goal. We absolutely love it when the guy says "oh yeah?" or ends up calling the girl a cute nickname while bantering. Dialogues can reach out to readers in a more personal way because they are the direct interactions between your characters. Make your OTP interact and have fun (pun intended!)

Add restraint: Sometimes, when the characters are almost about to kiss and someone interrupts them, we feel like throwing the book away. But at the same time, we want more because we want to see our characters kiss, or confess, or even get down dirty ;). You have put your characters in each other's close proximities, given them a driving force and added a razzle-dazzle with the dialogues and flirting! Yet, something is missing and the romance feels too....predictable? Put a constraint. This is especially important for slowburns. Personally, I love me a slowburn - it creates higher tension, emphasises on a foundation between characters and makes the kiss/confession/sex even more hot (again, my opinion). I suggest, a hint of a barrier won't do any harm. When you've reached the level of tension where it's normal for your characters to kiss or make-out, your readers are more focused than ever. Adding a restraint will make them crave the romance more and hence, stay hooked into the story. HOWEVER, DON'T STALL THE PROJECT. Just because your characters got interrupted in chapter 7 doesn't mean they can't kiss till chapter 15 or something. If they don't kiss in this chapter, they kiss after maybe 2-3 more chapters. You want to delay the romance only by a tad bit, so that your readers are still interested.

That's all I have for today! I hope these help you guys! - ashlee.