#now back to living in the house that brought you the issues that you're going to therapy for

[pearlessance]

Beneath the Armor —part one

summary: Joel Miller has been the center of all the gossip in the trailer park since he tragically lost his daughter. He's short-tempered and mean as hell, his hostility no doubt spurred on by that beer he always has in hand. But when you need a ride to work and he's your last resort, you come to find he's much more than what meets the eye.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI (not in this part but in part two!), ANGST with a happy ending, grief, mention of child loss, daddy issues, age difference, slow burn, attempted seduction, use of alcohol, and references to alcohol abuse, brat taming, eventual smut

wc: 6.9k

note: this entire concept is owed to my bff joelmillersgirlfriend over on AO3! we've cowritten this together (to the shock of no one, i'm pretty sure i need her to write at this point), and if you haven't gone over there to read her stuff by now then you're missing out!! part two coming soon <3 let us know what you think!

[part two]

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Talking to Joel Miller was like pulling teeth with a rusty old plier, one by one, nerve by nerve. He used his silence, his pity like a suit of armor. Meant to protect him, but still wrapped around a man who was too scared to confront his fears. To learn his own forgiveness. 

You had vaguely known him since you were a senior in high school and had seen him and his little girl move into the trailer across from yours. You were sitting on the front porch, occasionally sipping from the iced lemonade in your hand. Summer had come in hot, and the beaming sun was relentless during the first humid weeks of July. 

Joel and Sarah had been the talk of the neighborhood — the dad and the little girl with an oxygen tank. You heard the rumors from some of your friends in the trailer park - that Joel couldn’t afford to keep up with her medical bills, so he had to sell his house and abandon the business he had built up with his bare hands. 

Still, she was a fighter until her last breath. Joel, however, died the day Sarah did. She had only lived for eleven months after moving into the park. What was once a motivated little family fighting hard against the disease soon became a single man inside of an empty shell. 

His warm smiles that he would give to neighbors who brought Sarah over toys and “get well soon!” cards soon turned into nothingness — a dark, empty expression. Joel stopped going out as much, replacing soccer balls and dirty sneakers with whiskey and cigarettes. He no longer stood out on his porch, playing guitar and smiling at you once he met your eyes from your own porch. 

Kathy, who lived directly next to you, begged her husband, Parker, to call the cops for a wellness check for Joel. On the first anniversary of her death, he didn’t leave the house for a week. 

“Mind your own business. God only knows how he’s havin’ to cope; seeing cops knocking on his front door in the middle of the night won’t help nothing.”

You had to admit you were more than a little relieved when you saw him finally emerge, tired-looking with heavy eyes. He got in his car and left before coming back thirty minutes later, a new case of beer in tow.

You spent too much time observing him, ensuring he was alright, even if he didn’t know that. With no dad that you could remember and a mother who remarried some douchebag and skipped town after you were old enough to live on your own, all you had was time. After senior graduation, your friends in the park found a way to escape to college, but you were stuck and unable to escape, just like Joel. 

While your friends went to get a degree, you found a job at a bar up the road. It was grimy and far beyond your dream, but you earned good tips. With responsibilities that caused you to stay and a deep fear of failure, you could not leave the town you’d grown up in. 

Out of desperation, you’d leaped and applied to some college several towns away. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, an unrealistic kind of thing. It’s not like you’d be able to afford it anyway. 

So it was a cycle: wake up, work, sleep, and do it all over again. You understood how Joel must feel, trapped in a never-ending pattern, reliving memories that couldn’t ever really go away — not entirely.

And of course, you understood what it was like being handed the short end of the stick. You both wound up in the same place, after all. 

Which was what led you to walk towards Joel’s trailer one evening. Your shift at work was about to start, but your car wouldn’t crank. You'd tried going to Kathy’s house first, but nobody answered. You couldn’t lose your job, already having too many tardies because of your piece of shit car.

The soles of your shoes crunched against the leaves on Joel’s front porch step, your eyes moving to look at him sitting in a plastic lawn chair. His hair was getting long, hanging over his eyes wildly. 

Joel bristled when he noticed you standing on his front porch step, a cigarette hanging between his lips. You’d never been this close to him. It was much easier to see how handsome he was up close: thick hair, a graying beard. Simply too easy on the eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes slipping away from your face and down to your outfit. You always dressed up for work, knowing it’d get you extra tips. Maybe you went a little overboard with the fishnets and the amount of cleavage you were showing, but it always paid off in the end.

His hips shift in his seat, waiting for you to answer his question. 

You cleared your throat, standing up straight to make yourself feel more significant compared to the giant man. “I’m sorry to bother you. My car won’t start, and I’m gonna be late for work.”

Joel glared up at you. “So?”

Taken aback by his hostility, you paused, hesitating. You knew that he was a sad man, but nobody had told you that he was an asshole.

“So… I was hoping you could give me a ride. I could pay you for the gas and-“

Joel stood up in the middle of you talking, the wood creaking under his boots as he walked to the front door and into the house. You faltered, standing stupidly on this rude man’s front porch step.

With a huff, you spun around, leaving the porch. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you muttered under your breath, suddenly jumping at the sound of the screen door slamming shut behind you. Joel had returned, this time with keys in his hand and a brown t-shirt pulled over his white wife's beater. 

“Say somethin’?” Joel asked, walking ahead but narrowing his eyes directly at your face. 

“Nope,” you quickly chirped, rushing to catch up with him. “I thought you’d left me standing outside.”

“‘Bout did,” Joel grumbled under his breath, unlocking the truck door before climbing in. It was your turn to narrow your eyes at Joel, rolling them at the asshole. Even though he was an unexpected dickhead, you had to admit that you enjoyed the way his arms flexed as he pulled himself into his truck.

The drive to the bar was filled with mostly silence, except for the hum of some Radiohead album playing on the radio. Joel had the truck windows rolled down, the wind whipping the loose strands of your hair around your face. 

You tried to subtly glance over at him, watching the same cigarette from earlier placed between his plush lips. Without thinking, you reached over, plucking the cigarette away from his mouth. 

His dark eyes snapped at you in disbelief as he watched you inhale his cigarette, the residue from your lipstick staining the filter. You weren’t sure why you needed to catch Joel’s attention, but you were sure it somehow related to how he was ignoring you. It made you crave his attention. Fucking daddy issues. 

“Now you owe me gas money and a pack of Marlboro’s,” Joel said, reaching over to swipe the cigarette out of your mouth. He eyed the lipstick stain, sighing in annoyance before deciding the nicotine was worth it. 

Your blood warmed at the thought that Joel’s lips touched where yours had just been, indirectly tasting your mouth. His eyes flickered over to you, watching him, a low frown on his face. 

“What’s a girl like you workin’ at Dazzlers anyways?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his remark. “I’m a bartender, not a lap dancer,” you said, prompting Joel to give you an eye roll in return.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, almost so quietly that you didn’t notice, but you did. You understood that he had been through a lot, but Christ, there was no need to take it out on you. You swallowed your pride, knowing he was your last resort to not being fired.

Despite the weird tension and the silence, you found yourself drawn to Joel’s brooding energy, glancing at him occasionally through the darkness. 

Apparently, he was more observant than you thought.

“Need somethin’?” he questioned, not even glancing in your direction. Maybe it had to do with dad spidey senses or something, but being caught had made your blood warm in your veins.

You shook your head, unable to bite your tongue. 

“Nobody told me that you were such a dickhead.”

To your surprise, Joel didn’t even falter, with almost no response to your jab at his aggressive demeanor. 

“Yeah, well, watchin’ your daughter deteriorate right in front of you can change a man,” he replied bluntly, taking a long drag of his cigarette without even looking away from the road. 

It made you instantly feel bad, regretting your words no matter how much truth they held. 

“That’s not what I meant-“ you tried to explain, but Joel waved his hand, dismissing your excuse. His large palm made a rush of air past your face, your eyes blinking at him in response.

“Just leave it,” Joel grumbled, so you obeyed. It wasn’t for long before you arrived at your job, your eyes watching the bright neon lights flashing through the parking lot. You rifled through your purse, attempting to retrieve a couple of bills, but Joel’s palm wrapping around your own stopped you.

Bright-eyed, you looked up to meet his gaze, his usual timid expression replaced with one of determination. 

“You don’t gotta pay me.”

Strong words coming from someone who was just belittling you for owing him money for gas and cigarettes.

“I don’t wanna owe you anything. Just let me give you a couple of dollars and we’ll call it even,” you said, attempting to rifle back through your bag, but being stopped by his massive palm once again.

“Who’s gonna bring you back home tonight?” Joel questioned, his concern genuinely surprising you. Before you shrugged, you allowed your defenses to fall, mostly due to your shock.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out.”

Joel shook his head, rolling his eyes at your half-assed answer. “What time does your shift end?”

You paused, pulling your purse to your chest before glancing at the front of the building. Did you really want Joel to pick you up? Was sitting through another weirdly comforting yet intense ride worth it?

When you looked back at Joel, he didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer; his eyebrows were drawn into an almost scowl-like expression. Sighing with exasperation, you finally spoke. 

“We close at midnight.”

He nodded in response, breaking his intense eye contact with you before opting out to seemingly judge the building itself. It was a rough place, with neon lights flashing and motorcycles lined up at the entrance. It certainly looked more intimidating than it actually was. 

You were surprised when Joel decided to bite his tongue, not slipping out with some smart allelic response about the place. Instead, he hummed, a quick and easy response to your answer.  

“I’ll see you then,” he replied, but something about his words made your chest burn, like it was almost a promise that he’d be there to look out for you. To protect you. 

He did wind up picking you up that night and numerous nights after you explained to him that your alternator had given out and your car would be in the shop for a couple of days. He never argued or took your gas money despite the way he grumbled under his breath when you knocked at his front door at quarter past three. 

It was almost routine to have Joel take you to and from work, and when your car was back in operation, you nearly didn’t want to tell him. Though your time together hadn’t really given you a glimpse into the man Joel truly was since he hardly spoke, it allowed him to get to know you.

You’d rambled on about your absent father, how your mom had abandoned you once she realized you could support yourself. Never did he judge or belittle you. He’d always listen and make sure you were heard. 

Despite that, he never answered your questions when you’d pried at him. Asking him about family? No go. The business he’d given up? Of course not. 

Anything about Sarah?

The first and only time you had fished for information about her, you thought he was going to toss you out of his car. His eyes narrowed and fists clenched the steering wheel, an audible growl of anger leaving his throat.

“You ever say her name again, and you can walk to work, understand?” 

You hadn’t seen much of his anger explode like that before, except during the unexpected arrival of his brother, Tommy. It was on the evening that you finally got your car back, and as you mustered the courage to walk over to Joel’s trailer to let him know that he didn’t have to take you back and forth, you noticed something. In front of his crumbling front deck was a dark pick-up truck, one that didn’t belong in a place like this. It was sparkling new, clearly waxed, with big, gleaming rims.

Before you even had the chance to think much about it, you heard a shout inside Joel’s trailer, a booming voice that almost made you scurry back to your own home.

“I already told you, Tommy! I’m not doin’ it!” Footsteps tracked through the house, heavy boots against weak plywood practically shaking the trailer. You could see shapes pass by the front window, suggesting that both Joel and his seemingly unwanted guest were about to come outside.

Now you were actually scurrying across his lawn, attempting to retreat back from Joel’s yard before you were spotted, but the front door opened too quickly. Thankfully, the heated conversation between him and who you assumed to be Tommy precluded their heated gazes from meeting yours. 

Without wanting to assume who Tommy was, he certainly looked like he was related to Joel - their intense glares were almost identical. The height, the face-shapes, all of it. Even Tommy’s deep drawl matched as he bellowed in return. 

“I don’t understand why you gotta be so goddamn stubborn. Here I am, drivin’ halfway across the county just to see you, to give you an opportunity to get out of this shithole, but instead, you’re chosin’ to live in a shell and letting yourself wind up just like-”

Joel’s frame towered over Tommy’s despite the considerable height that Tommy had himself. Something dark was brewing beneath Joel’s features, clearly quite close to boiling over. Even though you knew you were watching an intense, private moment, you had never seen this kind of emotion from Joel before. You were almost bewitched, unmoving, questioning if you should intervene to stop a potential fight from breaking out.

Tommy’s nostrils were flared, his chest pressed against Joel’s, while Joel’s fists were clenched into a tight ball, threatening to strike like a snake. 

“I told you last time. Bring her up again, and you won’t have a mouth left to speak from.”

Tommy scoffed. “She was just as much mine as she was yours, Joel. Just because you ran away when things got hard and buried yourself deeper and deeper into a hole doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.” He began to stomp off of the front porch, making his way to the truck that was parked in the driveway. 

“But that’s fine! This will be the last damn time I come over thinkin’ that maybe you’re ready to change. Go ahead and delete my number from your phone.”

Both you and Joel, as well as a couple of other neighbors who had decided to leave their houses to view the commotion, watched Tommy’s truck tires screech against the pavement. His departure was bitter and final, an angry bite to the way he spit those words.

You can’t imagine being on the receiving end of them, and when you turned your head to glance at Joel, you found his eyes boring into you. His shoulders are pulled tight, and his jaw is set, and he said nothing as he stepped back into his trailer and slammed the door hard behind him. 

Perfect timing, you thought to yourself. There’s never been a better day for your car to have been up and running again. You didn’t waste time lingering in his yard.

But before you can feel the pavement of the narrow street beneath your sneakers, his disgruntled voice cut through the air. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

You turned to face him, unsure of yourself. Joel’s an asshole, you know that much, but you didn’t think you’ve ever seen him this worked up and angry. “Uhm…about that. I was just coming to tell you that I don’t need a ride today-”

Joel scoffed and shook his head, keys jingling in his hand “Get in the damn truck,” he said, venom on his tongue. And you know he’s not mad at you, but your stomach turned at his fury anyway. “Gonna be late if we don’t get a move on.”

Tomorrow, you decide. You’ll tell him about your car tomorrow. But for now, you do as he said. While he stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine over, you climbed into the passenger seat, which still smelled faintly of your perfume from the night before.

He pulled onto the road and started the familiar route to the bar, his movements rehearsed and, by now, muscle memory. You sat in silence as he steered with one hand and pulled a cigarette from the center console with the other. He lit it, inhaled the nicotine deep into his lungs, and let out a heavy sigh.

You wondered if you should say something. A million questions are pressed against the back of your teeth. But now isn’t the best time to poke and prod for a glimpse into the man he is outside of what you’ve seen with your own two eyes. So you decided to say something else instead, something that might grant him a little relief. “My car is fixed. That’s what I was trying to tell you. So, tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about giving me rides anymore.”

He glanced at you briefly and then shook his head. “No.”

The word is so simple and definitive in his mouth that it caught you off guard. So much so that you found yourself fighting amusement. “What do you mean no?”

“Just what I said, damn it. You hard of hearing all of a sudden?”

“Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?” You hadn’t wanted to press his buttons. Truly. But what right does he have to spew insults as if you were the one screaming at him on his front porch? Your tone was condescending as you said, “Come on. Try it with me; congrats! I’m sooo happy things are finally going your way! I’m glad I could be of help! No problem at all-!”

“Cut that shit out.”

“Me? You first.”

His jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth. He ashed his cigarette out of the open window and then sighed again, calmer this time. “Alright. I’m…”

“Sorry?”

His throat bobbed as if he tried to get the word out but it didn’t quite make it to his tongue. Instead, he just said, “Yeah.”

This time, you’re the one sighing. “It’s okay.”

Another few seconds of silence passed between you, but they were not as uncomfortable as they’d been when you’d first gotten into the truck. Less tension, less anger. And then he said, “Don’t want you drivin’ anywhere in that thing in the middle of the night.”

Your heart pinched in your chest at the words. They’re said with a certain sort of irritation, but yet they’re still so… protective. It’s not something you’ve ever had before, but in the last few days he’s given you a taste and it isn’t until now that you realized you’d developed a craving for it. “Why not?”

“Ain’t safe. Could break down again any second. Leave you stranded at midnight in the middle of nowhere. God knows the kinda people you’re servin’ at that place, would consider themselves lucky to find ya on the side of the road.” He shook his head as if to clear the image from his mind. “I’ll just keep takin’ ya.”

Even though you fought the warmth that crawled up your cheeks, you know he could tell his words did something to you. Joel’s attention left the road for only long enough to steal a fleeting glance at your face, and when he turned back to the task at hand he snorted incredulously. 

But it’s the first time that anyone has ever considered your safety and altered their routine to make it a priority. It makes you feel special and warm and…wanted. And you know it’s likely your daddy issues blurring the lines once again, but you just can’t help yourself or the way your mind jumped to conclusions. “Is that your way of saying you care about me?”

He pressed his fingertips into his temple to massage away a headache. “Stop that.”

You didn’t listen. Of course, you don’t. You leaned in closer, hands on the empty leather seat between you. “Aww… who would've thought Joel Miller would secretly be a softie?” You’d never been so close to him before, so close that you could see the brown-colored freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose.

You swallowed down your sudden nerves due to the close proximity, enjoying the way Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I said cut it out. Sit back down the right way ‘fore I get a ticket.”

It was impossible to follow his orders now, not after seeing how easy it was to rile him up.

Moving even closer, your lips a breath's distance away from Joel’s neck, you whispered, “I think you like the attention.”

“I think you’re mistaken,” he huffed back, but his voice lacked the bite he intended, much softer than the way he was yelling at Tommy earlier. His gaze flicked over to you, watching with an intense curiosity, but only momentarily. 

“I won’t tell you again,” Joel commanded, brushing you back to your seat with a gentle shove of his elbow.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you questioned, although you were sitting back in your seat like he asked you to. “Punish me? Spank me?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, I oughta. Maybe it’d finally teach you some manners,” Joel glanced over to catch your eye. “Anyone ever told you that you got a real weird sense of humor?”

Shrugging, you couldn’t help the slide smirk that spread across your face. “Blame it on my daddy issues.”

Joel didn’t even try to hide his disbelief, a red flush rising from the top of his collarbones and up his neck.

“Lord help me,” he whispered under his breath. 

You granted him a bit of grace, ending your teasing and opting to enjoy the sound of music playing on the radio for the rest of the ride. It was always peaceful riding with Joel, the heat of the summer breeze warming your face. 

From the heady smell of Joel’s Marlboros to the shrill voice of The Smashing Pumpkins playing over the speakers; the comfort of the situation always made you want to break down Joel’s walls. You wanted to see what he was like when he was entirely vulnerable, what he looked like when he woke up in the morning and didn’t have the opportunity to remember all his worries.

From that moment, you decided that you would get Joel to open up one way or another.

Your heart dropped a little when he pulled into the bar's parking lot, his tires crunching against the loose gravel. Joel’s long fingers were swift, reaching to the radio to turn down the music. 

Things felt weird, that same intensity from the moment you’d gotten into the car returning. It felt like he wanted to say something, his mouth twitching before his lips were pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t joking, y’know,” you said, hoping to break the awkward silence of saying goodbye. 

Joel didn’t say anything, the curious raise of his eyebrow speaking for him. 

“About wanting you to spank me,” you snipped back, hopping out of his truck right after you admitted it to him. You could see what appeared to be a stifled smile forming on his lips as he shook his head. It made you feel good that you were able to distract him from reality for even a couple of minutes. God knew he needed it.

“See you at midnight. Stay out of trouble,” he called back from his truck, waiting to leave until he watched you safely enter the building.

He was on your brain your entire shift, which wasn’t unusual. What was different now was the pieces of information you’d found out, ranging from his argument with Tommy and his little resistance to your flirting.

So, of course, curiosity killed the cat. On your break you found yourself googling a string of searches; Joel Miller, Tommy, Joel and Tommy, until eventually you landed on an old company website.

Miller Bros Construction Company.

It was outdated, with inquiries and testimonials from years ago, but it did answer a couple of your questions. After clicking on the “about us” tab, you saw a photo of a much younger, happier-looking Joel. 

His arm was thrown around Tommy’s shoulder, a huge smile plastered on his face. If you didn’t know every inch of Joel’s face, you would’ve considered that it wasn’t actually him. He looked so… happy. It broke your heart to know that he had become half of the man he used to be.

‘Brothers Joel and Tommy Miller have been serving the greater population of Austin, TX for several years,’ the tab read, confirming your suspicions that they were related. You glanced at Tommy, happily smiling next to Joel, directly contradicting what you’d seen earlier.

The inquiry tab at the bottom was broken, redirecting to a no longer active form.

Christ. His daughter's death had indeed ruined him. It had sucked all of the happiness out of Joel, leaving him angry and alone. He pushed everything good and decent away.

You spent the rest of your break lurking, sifting through Tommy’s Facebook page, seeing his now solely owned business booming. He had a pretty fiancé, and things honestly looked good for him. You noticed that Joel was nowhere on his page, but you would occasionally see photos of Tommy and Sarah beaming together before she’d gotten sick.

The guilt of it all had eaten at you, so severely that you decided to buy a burger plate before the kitchen closed for the night. Joel had gone out of his way to take care of you, to take you back and forth from work, even though he grumbled about it. He deserved to feel taken care of in return.

Plus, you were almost certain that his diet mainly consisted of cigarettes and alcohol. How he still looked so goddamn good was a question you’d never have answered.  

When you left work, it was like clockwork; Joel’s truck sat outside the building, waiting for you.

The sun was long gone by now, so it was difficult to see Joel sitting in the driver's seat. You’d hoped that he had cooled off from earlier, especially now that you know more about the context of the argument. 

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting Joel only by placing the plate of food on the center console.

“What’s this?” Joel questioned, no hello or how was your shift? Typical Joel Miller.

“What’s it look like? I got you dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, pointing a finger at the clock display. “It’s midnight.”

“And…?” He raised his brows and you clicked your tongue in response. “When was the last time you had a meal that wasn’t made in a microwave?”

Joel fixed you with a stare, and something lingered in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. It’s as if he’s trying to decide whether to yell at you or simply say thank you. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” he stated, but there was no malice in it. 

“I know. I wanted to.” You shrugged casually because it was truly nothing to you. But apparently, Joel didn’t see it that way.

The truck sat idle in the parking lot. He said nothing for several seconds, which felt far too long. It was dark—the only illumination provided was the distant street lamps outside, but you swore you could see the corners of his mouth turn up. Not quite a smile, but something. And it made you feel so victorious that you thought about mentioning it, about making some snide remark, but know better by now. 

Instead, you teased him. “At this rate, I might as well pack a bag and stay the night here.”

Joel scoffed but turned the key in the ignition anyway. “You got a mouth on you, girl. That’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t sent me away yet. So there must be something you like about it, right?”

He doesn’t agree but he doesn’t deny it, either. Still, sarcasm dripped off his tongue as he said, “Somethin’ like that.”

When he turned the radio up, a rock ballad played and put you at ease. You start to realize that these quiet moments with him are the lightest part of your days. Nothing to think about but the way the cool wind hit your face and the sound of his soft humming from behind the wheel. It’s simple and good and you feel safe.

When he pulled into the trailer park a short while later, you almost hated to see it end. For a split second, you debated inviting him over in an attempt to extend your time together. But you knew that after the day he’s had, he probably didn’t want the company. So instead, you gathered your things and hopped out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hang on a sec.”

You paused with your hand on the passenger door. “Yeah?”

Joel hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he managed was, “Uh..” His eyes darted everywhere but yours. The dashboard, the steering wheel, his hands - everywhere but you.

He’s nervous, you realized. Uneasy. You tried to comfort him. “What is it?”

“I, uh…I was just wonderin’ if, I don’t know. You wanna… split it with me?” He pointed to the takeout container. “Or you could have a drink, or…do you drink?”

Your heart was doing somersaults behind your sternum. A girlish giggle left you despite your attempts to hide your excitement. Through a face-splitting grin, you asked, “Like a date?”

“Christ,” he sneered. “You know what? I take it back. Never-”

“I’m kidding!” Your laughter filled the cab of the truck. “I’m just kidding, Joel, I swear. Of course, I’ll come in for a drink.”

He looked hesitant, and at first, you thought it was because of how you’d been pulling his leg all night. By the time you had made it inside of his trailer, you realized that he was probably a little nervous on account of the mess in his living room.

Empty bud light bottles covered the surface of the side table next to his couch. An ashtray haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter was long overdue to be emptied, ash and half-smoked cigarettes threatening to spill over. Next to it were a couple of prescription bottles, the print too small for you to make out what they were supposed to be treating.

No matter how you felt about the place, you understood how difficult it all must’ve been for Joel. It wasn’t dirty or anything, just unkempt, a man overwhelmed by grief too distracted to focus on cleaning.

“It’s not much to see, but feel free to make yourself at home,” Joel said, slipping past you at the front door to place the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. You watched him momentarily, taking in the normalcy of his routine.

His movements to wash his hands before eating, the clatter of plates being pulled out of the dishwasher. Watching him in his element relaxed you. You tried to envision what it was like in the home when Sarah was still alive, filling the space with her innocent laughter. 

“I won’t bite,” Joel spoke, pulling you out of your own head. Your gaze refocused, a quiet sense of fulfillment washing over you as you watched him for a fleeting second. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you chirped back, toeing out of your work shoes and heading over to his leather couch. A knitted blanket thrown across the leather prevented the back of your legs from pressing against the cold material, and you were grateful. 

“Do you get pleasure outta givin’ me a hard time or something?” Joel asked, plopping next to you. He slid a plate over to your side of the coffee table, pulling the table forward slightly so you’d be able to reach it easier. He placed two beers on the table, too, and cracked the seal of yours. It’s such a small but gentlemanly thing to do, and you try not to think too hard about how it makes your heart swell.  

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until he unwrapped the bag and split the food between the two of you, your stomach growling in response. 

“I just like seeing you squirm,” you joked, noticing how Joel shook his head and snorted under his breath. Both of you ate together, quietly but comfortably. 

You were sure that Joel spent most of his nights like this, in his living room with the TV flashing light across the walls of the house. It made you feel good that you were there to change his routine so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

The longer that time passed and the less food on your plate created an odd sense of pressure, that you were running out of time to pull something new out of Joel. Being in his home was an accomplishment on its own, but you still had a challenge with yourself to learn even more.

“Do you wanna, uh,” you began to speak, picking at one of your fries to fill the awkward space, “y’know… talk about earlier?”

“Nope,” he replied without hesitation, which you probably should’ve expected. Your pout was uncontrollable, discouraged by his instant lack of vulnerability. But you weren’t going to force him to talk, because he’d for sure shut down. 

“Not to be cheesy or anything, but you’re pretty decent to be around, once you stopped being an asshole all the time,” you said, finishing the final bite of your fry. “If you ever need to talk about shit, I’m probably the best option you got here. Kathy tells everyone’s business, so.”

Joel actually chuckled at that, a deep, rumbling sound that made your gut twist. “I didn’t plan on talkin’ to anybody about anything, much less Kathy. But thanks.”

You nodded, a pang of disappointment flickering through your abdomen.

That night, you thanked him for the company and he promised to meet you in the afternoon right on time. The same routine you’ve had all week. 

You and Joel get good at routines. Because the next night when you brought him dinner again, he didn’t even ask if you’d like to eat with him. He just said, “Picked up some sodas earlier. Figured you might want that instead of beer.”

And just like that, it became a nightly thing. The cooks at the bar don’t even ask what you want any more, they simply have the food finished by the time you’re ready to meet Joel in the parking lot. You had even occasionally fallen asleep in his living room, the comforting sound of the TV humming and Joel’s even breathing lulling you to sleep.

He always made sure to throw a blanket over you and quietly slip into his room, never waking you or forcing you to leave. It was an unspoken rule.

So, due to your growing interest in Joel and alleviating some of his stress, you decided to take a leap. One morning you’d woken up on Joel’s couch after falling asleep there the night before. Joel wasn’t home, which wasn’t unusual since he sometimes picked up odd jobs at the mechanic's shop in town to pay the bills. 

It was the perfect opportunity to clean his house. You weren’t sure how he was going to feel about it, but you were only going to take out the trash and leave everything else as it was. You didn’t need him hollering at you for moving his shit around.

You had a good four hours to just clean out the place, and Jesus, you needed it. It appeared that he didn’t have any other cleaning products besides bleach and dish soap, which you couldn’t really use to get some old stains out of the carpet. It had taken you an hour of rifling through your own stuff to get the correct products and supplies to make a dent. 

By the time you finished a couple hours later, you had three trash bags full of random newspapers, beer cans, and whatever other miscellaneous stuff you were sure Joel wouldn’t be upset to part with. Surprisingly, you hadn’t seen anything belonging to Sarah, no pictures hanging on the wall, no toys, nothing that indicated that anyone besides Joel had lived there.

That was until you’d decided to step into the room towards the back of the trailer. Joel’s bedroom was hardly used, his bed made and room clean, indicating that he probably spent most of his nights on the couch, so you didn’t bother cleaning that space. You were, however, curious about the spare room.

As soon as you’d opened it, you knew why you couldn’t find anything of Sarah’s. It was like a museum, a room stuck in time. Light pink paint covered the wall, the late afternoon sun streaming in colorful rays through the sheer purple curtains. The bed was made, without a wrinkle in sight, with a little teddy bear tucked in, as if it was keeping the bed warm for Sarah’s return.

You stepped in a little, taking in the small details; the photos of Joel and Sarah hugging on the wall, a little caboodle makeup box, and nail polishes lined up against the dresser. What truly broke your heart was the oxygen tank that was placed next to her bed, still attached to the mask. 

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” spoke a voice from behind you, almost causing your body to jump out of its skin. You whipped around to see an absolutely fuming Joel watching you with narrowed eyes. You stammered, quickly trying to come up with some sort of excuse.

“I was cleaning and I thought, I mean I was thinking that-“

Joel quickly approached you, his face only a mere breath away from yours. You were too anxious to even notice the closeness because you knew he was beyond pissed. You don’t think he was even this mad when he was fighting with Tommy.

“I don’t know why you think that you’re entitled to comin’ into my life, touchin’ my shit, steppin’ foot into this room, but guess what? You’re not.” He spat, stepping even closer to you. You felt tiny, like a bug ready to be squashed by a foot. 

“You don’t mean shit to me. Just because your life is fucked up doesn’t mean I need you to try to come into mine and save me. I don’t wanna be saved. Now get the hell outta my house,” he spoke, his voice unwavering and scarily calm. It took every ounce of strength inside of you not to cry, not to shout, because you knew he didn’t mean it. You had crossed his invisible line, despite not doing it intentionally.

But you weren’t strong enough to control your emotions, and eventually, the pressure of Joel’s angry words left your eyes watering. Though your jaw was clenched and your face wasn’t giving much away, Joel easily saw past the facade and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

And he scoffed. A quick laugh, right in your face, at seeing your tears. 

“Christ, you gonna cry now? Upset that you don’t got no daddy here to comfort you, gotta take out all your trauma on me? Fuckin’ pathetic.” 

Your tears turned from hurt, into angry, hot streams rolling down your face.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

You could feel your blood pumping in your head, so angry that you could break something. He was lucky that you made your way straight out of his house instead of grabbing all of the trash bags and pouring them right back onto the floor. 

You knew that he was self-destructing, that he was pushing you away because you were too good for him, but it didn’t make his words hurt any less. He wasn’t wrong. You did take interest in him because he was broken, similar to yourself. Despite that, it didn’t hurt any less.

As painful as it was to believe, you began to wonder if he had fooled you.

Maybe all that remained of Joel Miller was the worst part of him.

[part two]

[spencereidluver]

L is for Lover Boy

december 14, 2008

summary:  After you have to drive back to your apartment for the third time in two days to get stuff, Spencer clears out two drawers in his dresser for you while you're gone and can't wait to show you.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: just lots of fluff and spence being a good bf

“No, don’t go,” Spencer says as he gently claws at your hips trying to pull you back into him. You were cuddled up with him on the sofa in his living room watching some documentary he’d put on. This was your third day at Spencer’s house, having come over Friday after work and spending the night, then being begged not to leave, so after paying a quick visit to your home in order to get a toothbrush, clothes, and anything else your heart desired, you returned to Spencer’s apartment for a second night. 

“Spencer, baby, I have to,” you try to pry his hands from your hips, though he is a lot stronger than he looks. He gets a hold of you, pulling you onto his lap. He starts to tickle your ribs, making you hunch over him. You try to push his hands away, but ultimately fail as you yell his name between giggles.

“Stay and I’ll stop,” he smiles into your neck. 

“One more night,” you say and grab his wrists in order to calm his movements. “But I have to go home and get work clothes, so let me go.”

He pouts, but obliges. It’s so hard to tell such a sweet boy no, plus falling asleep in his arms every night is something you could see yourself getting used to.

“Fine, but hurry. I want to cuddle,” he sighs.

You lean down, planting a kiss on his forehead and fluffing his hair with your fingers. “I love you, Spencie,” you say. “I love you.”

You trudge to the door of his apartment, slipping your shoes and coat on and grabbing your keys. “I’ll be back,” you call out to Spencer before you exit the apartment and make your way to the stairs and out to your car.

_____

At your apartment, you grabbed the one clean work outfit you still had and tossed it over your shoulder. You’d been at Spencer’s place so much recently you hadn’t done laundry in weeks. He was gonna be sad when you broke the news that tonight was the last night. For now anyways. You loved staying with Spencer… The only issue was all your stuff was at your house. 

You studied the walls of your apartment. How was it that a place you’d been so comfortable in for so long had become barren? How was it that Spencer’s presence is truly what made you feel at home? You neared the entryway of your unit, letting your fingers track on the surface of the wooden table to the side of the door. You brought your hand up to your eye level: Dust. Your apartment had sat empty for so long that even the most communal surfaces had become neglected. Normally you’d stop to wipe the dust clean, but right now, all that was filling your consciousness was returning to Spencer. You grabbed the pack of gum off the dust-covered table and clenched your keys in your fist. You rush out the door of your apartment and head straight for the elevator. 

_____

You’re practically tripping over your own feet as you rush back into Spencer’s apartment complex. You take the stairs as you don’t see waiting on the elevator as time efficient since you’re only going up to the second floor. As you approach his unit, you slow your steps, careful not to alarm any of the tenets. You reach his door, shuffling the items in your hands in order to knock. Two hits of your fist on the wood and the golden number “twenty-three��� is replaced by a smiling Spencer Reid. 

“Hey Spence,” you say, handing over the bag in your arms as he’d grabbed the strap, signaling he wanted to take it from you. He was always chivalrous: opening doors, wrapping you in his sweaters, buying you flowers, and this was another example of such. He always carried your bag for you, even if he had his own. If there was anything Spencer could do to make your day the slightest bit simpler, he was jumping to it. His world revolved around making you happy. And he did a damn good job of it. 

“Hi, how was your apartment?” He asked as he stepped aside so you could enter his. He followed you, shutting the door and turning the lock behind him. 

“It was alright,” you said. “Just how I left it.” You watched as he placed your bag gently on the counter. He was always extremely gentle with your things, even if he didn’t need to be. He cared as much for your things as he did for you, and treated all things, great or small, as if they were as delicate as his love for you. 

“That’s good, I’m glad no one had intruded in your absence.” He turned his attention away from the direction of the counter and toward you. His eyes focused on your face, studying you. “Hey, I want to show you something,” he said as he brought his hand up to meet your waist. He pulled you into a hug, letting his hands linger on you after you’d pulled back. He stared at you for a moment before pulling you back into him, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was rough- like getting hit by a bus. A very pleasant bus, but a bus nonetheless. His hands gripped on your waist, surely leaving marks, as his lips moved feverishly into yours. 

You giggled into his kiss, pushing him away gently by his chest. He gives a small pout which makes you feel a bit bad, so you lean to give him one last small peck. He smiles. 

“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks forming a light blush, “I just love you.” His hands fall from your waist. He shuffles to the front of you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him as he leads you to his bedroom. 

“I love you, Spence,” you say while trailing behind him. “So much. Now, what are you showing me?” He drops your hand as you enter his room, moving it to the small of your back and giving you a slight shove in the direction of one of his closet.

Spencer’s closet was a small room jutting out of the wall adjacent to the door. In it was a six drawer chest, a floor mirror, and a horizontal rod that harbored his polo shirts, sweaters, and suit jackets. In front of the mirror sat his three pairs of shoes- his black converse, his brown leather dress shoes, and his black suede dress shoes. Typically, his converse were just thrown in front, as they were his most common choice and he didn’t see the effort to put them back nicely every single time was worth it. You took notice of the fact that they were set up nicely like the two pairs of dress shoes, him even having tied them to make it more visually appealing. You also noticed the knickknacks he had atop his dresser had been rearranged, and some books had been relocated from somewhere. 

“You cleaned your closet!” you said, reaching out to fondle the Curta calculator that was placed on the edge of the dresser. 

“I did,” he responded, still having ahold of your back. “Open the bottom drawers.” 

You were a bit confused. Why was he giving you a closet tour? What could possibly be so intriguing about the contents of these drawers that he had to give you the rundown? You obliged nonetheless, partially because you were curious, but mostly because you could sense his excitement and knew this was a big thing for him. 

Leaning down to grab the parallel knobs on the very bottom drawer, you braced for something slightly heavy, a wooden drawer filled with clothing, but were taken aback when the drawer practically flew open. It was empty. You were confused. Was he getting a head start on spring cleaning? Maybe you just opened the wrong drawer. You silently opened the next drawer up, it being empty as well.

You stood and faced Spencer who had a big goofy grin on his face. You furrowed your brows at him, softening your voice to say, “I’m confused.”

“It's for you,” he said, still with his dorky smile. “I just thought, since you’ve been staying here so often, and I really hate to have you traveling to and from your apartment for five minutes every other day, maybe you could store some of your clothes and things here.”

“Spencer, I-”

You must’ve had a passive tone because his smile faded as the words fell out your mouth.

“I-if you don’t want to then I understand, I know we really just started dating and rushing things is statistically bad for relationships, and I’m n-not saying you should move in with me, I just-”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him, desperate to save him from his pointless embarrassment. His eyes are wide as he looks down at you, almost as if he’s pleading. “Spence, this is so sweet,” you say, “it’s perfect.”

His smile, though more calm this time, returns. “Really?” he asks.

“Really. Such a good idea too.” You ruffle his hair. “I love you.”

His smile widens, his eyes squinting from the contortion of his cheeks. 

He can barely spit out an “I love you too,” before his expression changes to one of remembrance. 

“Oh!” he exclaims, “I also took my books out of this nightstand, you can put stuff in there too.” He gestured to the nightstand on the closet side- the right side- your side- of the bed.

‘That’s where those books on the dresser came from,’ you thought to yourself. You glance at the bed, noticing that he’d not only done your laundry, but also folded your clothes and separated them by outfits for you. 

“Wow,” you say as your hand grazes the fabric of the folded clothing, “you really didn’t have to do all this, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said, “but I wanted to.” He picks up one of the stacks of your clothing off the bed and carries it the few steps to the closet. “You want to go ahead and put these in here?” He gestures toward the dresser.

“Sure, these can be my ‘Spencer’ clothes!” 

He giggles at your little pun. That was something you loved about Spencer; no matter how bad a joke you made was, he always laughed. Maybe he was just being nice, but it made you feel good, so you weren’t complaining.

_____

You awoke before Spencer for the first time since you’ve been staying over. 

‘Doing all that rearranging last night must’ve really knocked him out,’ you thought.

You lied still in his embrace, careful not to move a muscle. He was lying on his back, left arm tucked underneath you, right draped across your waist. You lied on your stomach, left leg wrapped around his hips, the other down parallel to his. Your head rested on his chest allowing you to hear every breath taken by him. You were worried if you moved even a tiny bit it would stir him awake and this would end. You were far too comfortable in his arms and with your thoughts to do such a thing. 

Unintentionally, you found yourself matching his breathing patterns. You found yourself unintentionally matching a lot of Spencer’s mannerisms as of recently. Granted, you spent almost all your time with him, but you could never have ‘too much’ Spencer Reid. You thought about what he said last night: “I know we really just started dating.” While technically he was correct, it had only been three months since your first date, and a little over two since you guys had become official, it felt like a lifetime with him. Maybe this was because you were just as close before, the only difference now being that you kiss. Sometimes you have to remind yourself this is his first relationship. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you were weary to begin the relationship at first, though now you’re more than happy you did. Spencer has been the best decision of your life. Turning him from your nerdy best friend to the love of your life has been the best decision. He was perfect. 

Spencer stirred beneath you, rolling over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You reached your hand up, tangling it in his hair, and gently ran your nails through his scalp. He brought his knees up toward his chest, now lying in a loose fetal position with his legs tucked into the gap yours left. He was like a baby. Your baby. 

You could hear his breath getting caught in his throat as his body fought to stay asleep. 

“Hey,” you whispered softly into his ear as you let your hand trace down his hairline to cup his jaw. He gave you a small groan in response, being awake but not yet conscious. 

“Spence baby,” you hummed. You tilted his face up toward you while rubbing your thumb back and forth on his sharp jawline. You pressed several small kisses on his forehead. From the way he was leaning into you, it was obvious he was awake. You looked down at him, his eyes still shut.

“G’morning,” Spencer mumbled as his eyes fluttered open and met yours. 

“How’d you sleep?” You brushed a stray piece of hair from in front of his eyes.

“Pretty good. I uh, I had a dream about you.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We were just reading. You know, actually they say when you dream of your partner it means you’re wanting to spend more time with them, which is strange because aside from when you went home for an hour last night we’ve been together for the past 56 hours with no cases as a distraction. That’s the longest time we’ve been together.”

Only Spencer could wake up and immediately start sharing facts.

“Maybe it means you enjoyed the last 56 hours and wish for them to continue, rather than for them to come into existence since they already have.”

He smiles at you, in awe. “That- that’s a really good point.” “You’re not the only smart one, Dr. Reid.” You boop his nose to acknowledge that you’re teasing him. Spencer sometimes struggles with social cues; it doesn’t take a genius to know that. You always try your hardest to do something to let him know you’re just teasing. 

He’s still smiling. “Y/n, you never fail to amaze me.” 

His eyes sparkle in the light. More than usual. A tear falls from his left eye. He’s crying.

You wipe the tear away and grab his chin, lifting up toward you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask, using your soft voice again. Another set of tears falls from his eyes.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” he said, “I just…” His voice hitched. Tears stream down his face seemingly uncontrollably. “I just love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you, Spencer.” You say earnestly, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on his salty, tear soaked, lips. He melted into the kiss instantly, chasing your lips as you pulled away. 

“Please, Y/n. Kiss me,” he said, sitting up to allow easier access. You sat up as well, criss-crossing your legs in front of you to match Spencer. You lean forward, grabbing ahold of his thighs to keep yourself from face planting into him. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s pressing his lips onto yours. You taste his tears with every opening of your mouth. He still has morning breath, you know you do too, but that taste belongs to what you call home. This boy, this bed, this room, this apartment; it's your home.

_____

next chapter: M is for Merry Christmas

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: hi! long time no see... i'm really sorry for my unannounced absence :( i got really busy with school and work and just had a major burnout. i'm really gonna try to push some stories out for you guys as i really do enjoy writing them and seeing your guys' reaction to them. thank you guys for sticking with me

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

taglist: @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @navs-bhat @sammy-4103 @ada--44 @moongirl27

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@hookergutss @random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08

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@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @guacam011y @super-nerd22

[bellyyearner]

Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

[sturniolohouse]

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating. 

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand. 

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville. 

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently. 

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road. 

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming. 

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.  

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer. 

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers. 

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw. 

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity. 

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

[ghouldump]

hi i love your writing unfortunately there aren't many fics for the iwtv so tysm!!

i was wondering if you could write something about louis lestat and claudia with a (vamp?) reader that accidently timetraveld

Back In My Arms | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ time traveling accidentally and you're able to relive bittersweet memories.

thank you and I agree, especially the amc version compared to the movie. The other posts are coming, but I had to rush and get this one out because it was so gut wrenching for me 😭 LOL

“What do you think? The blue or the purple,” you held the dresses to your body.

“I prefer your birthday suit,” Lestat said over the classical music, making you roll your eyes at him. Could he ever be serious when you needed him to be?

“Louis,” you called out, wanting a real opinion.

“Hm? Oh, the purple” he was hardly listening, more focused on the pages of the book.

“So the blue, got it,” you grumbled, storming away, to finish packing your things.

“Ma chèrie, why are you leaving again? It truly makes no sense to me why you remain friends with this mortal,” Lestat said.

“I don't see why you care, it's not like either of you will notice I’m away,” you said, as you closed the bag.

“Don't say that, we do notice,” Louis said, defensively.

“I'll only be away for a night,” you mumbled, checking your appearance in the mirror, and slinging the bag over your shoulder.

“Stay, you can give us a more detailed visual representation of the dresses,” Lestat said, straightening his posture when you scoffed.

“Sex doesn't fix everything”

“It is a start”

“And maybe that's why we’re in the situation we’re in, now, if you'll excuse me, I’m going hang with my mortal friend, who communicates with me and doesn't want to block out our problems with Mozart, books, and sex,” you said, storming out of the townhouse, making sure to slam the door.

Getting into your car, you began to drive to your close friend, George, or Georgie, you called him both. He was middle-aged, although he was closing in on becoming elderly. He'd oftentimes been told he resembled Bill Nye, but those comments usually only made him red in the face, before he sent a storm of swear words at the person, in his thick Cajun accent. Divorced and cut out of his kid's lives, he was lonely, but so were you. Georgie was the only mortal to ever know that you were a vampire, and he made you feel normal.

Although having a few questions at first, he eventually let the matter go, and hardly ever brought it up. The two of you had been friends for nearly a decade now, and you planned to hold on until the bitter end. He wasn't too keen on being turned, scorned by his wife leaving him and his children siding with her. Lestat and Louis weren't comfortable with your friendship at all, but after realizing your relationship was completely platonic and you weren't cutting him out of your life, they grungily accepted him.

As you finally parked in front of Georgie’s house, approaching the door, you shook your head, discovering it was unlocked. Letting yourself in, you locked the door, going to where you'd both hang out for hours, his basement.

“You need to keep your door locked old man, anyone could just walk in here,” you said, going down the stairs. Tossing your bag onto the couch you'd usually sleep on, in the windowless room.

“Nobody comes here but you,” he said, making you laugh.

“So how is it going?” you asked, sitting in a nearby chair.

“A little more progress than last time, how are things at home?”

“Lestat is…well Lestat and Louis will always act like our issues aren't there,” you shrugged.

“Have you tried talking to them?”

“Of course, Lestat doesn't take anything seriously enough, and Louis wants to brush over it all,” you said.

“Hopefully, this is a success, because then we can fix everything,” Georgie smiled.

“Maybe you, but I don't see my problems being fixed”

“Don't underestimate science,” he told you.

Georgie had been working on an actual time-machine portal. He believed if he could go back in time, undo his mistakes, could prioritize his family over work, maybe that would stop his wife from having an affair with the neighbor, from leaving him and draining his wallet, and taking his children who he couldn't even get a happy birthday from.

He insisted that you would be able to use it, to repair your companionship. A long time had passed since 1910 and much tragedy and heartbreak happened. Separating from each other and eventually reconnecting, recently everything had been so stagnant and bland. No energy to argue about obvious conflicts, but unwilling to leave each other again and be forced to deal with the pain.

“Oh, my goodness,” Georgie stood up, his hand going to his chest. Your eyes widened, worried that he would croak.

“What is it?” you asked, you couldn't sense any internal issues, noticing his thoughts were jumping for joy.

“I think…I think it works,” he said, as he began to type on the nearby computer. The pod he'd spent years building, lit up, the white light faint.

“It turns on, how will you know if it works for real?” you asked.

“Could you maybe catch a few raccoons, rats, birds, anything, we can try on them,” he asked. Standing up, you went outside, quickly grabbing a rat from near the drainage, bringing it to him.

“Done,” you smiled, holding it firm, tossing it in the pod, as he opened the door. The rat squeaked a bit, running in circles, as Georgie typed.

The machine began to make a noise before the rat burst. It’s guts splattering on the door.

“Ew, what happened?” you asked him, pressing against the door, to look inside in disgust.

“It seems like it is releasing some sort of radiation, too strong for animals and people, I'll have to keep working on it,” he grumbled disappointedly.

“I could try it if you want,” you offered.

“The radiation will be damaging-

“In case you forgot, I’m hardly human anymore, I am a bit intrigued, the worst thing that could honesty happen is I get burned up, and I’ll heal,” you said, as he faced you.

“Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to do this, Y/n,” he said, but you brushed him off.

“Trust me, I don't, but you've put so much time into this, almost as long as I've known you, I want this to work out for you,” you said.

“Okay, let me get suited up, to clean it first,” he said, changing into the nbc suit to clean the inside of the pod. While waiting for him, you checked your phone, seeing a message from Louis.

“Sending a picture of the dress, I’m sure you look beautiful as always”

Smiling softly, you set your phone on the counter, taking your shoes off, watching as Georgie scrubbed the blood away. Little did Louis know, you wouldn't be wearing the dress to go hunting tonight. As soon as he finished cleaning, he was back at your side, typing on the monitor.

“We’ll do, let's say 5 minutes into the future, I’ll think of a number and when you come back, tell me the number, and time it to see if there is a significant change in time,” he said, as you nodded in agreement, accepting the small stopwatch, stepping into the pod.

Your arms at your sides, you briefly gave him a thumbs up, hoping to reassure his anxious thoughts. Typing on the computer, the pod began to light up again, the noise leaking out before it started to shake. Standing up, Georgie stood with his eyes wide, his jaw dropping as you vanished.

“Oh my Lord, it's working,” he said, his hand shakily went to his mouth.

Back at home, Louis and Lestat were relaxing, leisurely lounging around when it happened. A sudden feeling of dread washed over them as if you were gone. Glancing at each other, both of them stood up, rushing from the house to your friend, George's home. Bursting through the door, they went downstairs.

George looked back, gasping, surprised to see the elder vampires. However, before he could say anything or move, Lestat had him pressed against the wall, his hand around his neck.

“What did you do?”

“M-machine,” he choked out, looking over at the pod.

“Lestat, look,” Louis said, staring at the pod, fog seeping from the bottom.

“What is this?” he continued, looking to George.

“Time machine,” he struggled to say, before Lestat dropped him.

“You didn't put her into your experiment,” Louis said out loud, shaking his head, already pacing the floor.

“She offered, and it was only five minutes into the fut-

Suddenly, within the fog, you could be seen, smiling in excitement from the exhilaration of the atoms passing through your body. Your smile quickly faltered, seeing your lovers and a nervous Georgie.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Get her out of it, now,” Lestat told Georgie.

“Leave him alone,” you argued.

“This isn't safe, Y/n, we thought you were gone,” Louis told you.

“Don't parent me, Louis”

“Get her out of it now, or it will be destroyed,” Lestat said, shoving George into the computer, his hands smashing against the keyboard.

“Stop it, Lestat,” you yelled.

“What did you do?” George stressed, as the machine lit up. Typing as quickly as possible, he couldn't see the results that he needed.

“Y/n, he made me press a few buttons, it is going to the past, I don't know how far, but I’m going to fix it,” Georgie said apologetic.

“What?” Lestat and Louis said at the same time.

“Do not kill him, fucking asshole,” you said before vanishing.

“Can you bring her right back?” Louis asked.

“I don't even know how far it has brought her”

“Well figure it out,” Lestat snapped.

“This is your fault, she told me all about you and your ugly ways,” George said. Tilting his head, Lestat was about to reach for him, but Louis grabbed his arm.

“He has to bring her back to us,” he reminded him.

“She is going somewhere in the 19th century, I can't pinpoint where and when. Time should be a little longer through the pod, so I’d estimate a few hours for us if it is a success”

“For us?” Louis asked.

“IF it is a success?” Lestat screamed at the same time as him. George truly didn't understand what you saw in the dramatic man, other than his good looks.

“I've been studying this for some time now and with time travel, it could feel like days, or even longer, but in reality, it should only be a few hours, and I say if because we haven't tried going to the past. The pod isn't sustainable for the undead and Y/n getting in was the first actual progress of real-time travel,” he explained.

“Maybe one of us could go in and-

“No, that is the worst solution, we don't know where she went, so I wouldn't know where to send you and it is only one pod, and overloading the database is the last thing that needs to happen, we’ll give it a few hours,” George said, standing.

“Where are you going?” Lestat asked him.

“Have a glass of wine, if it could take a few hours, I’m going to relax for a while, you're free to make yourselves comfortable,” he said, stepping out of the NBC suit, before going up the stairs.

“We just have to wait,” Louis reassured Lestat, who stood staring at the pod, unable to believe this was happening.

As the pod finally stopped shaking, you peered outside at the change of setting. You were outside, Georgie nowhere to be seen. Turning on the stopwatch, you muttered an apology to him, before punching the thick glass and pushing the door open. Immediately, you recognized the familiarly different environment.

Your bare feet touching the dirt, you recognized the small, poorly built houses. You hadn't seen these houses in ages after Katrina wiped the remaining pieces away.

“Hey, what are you doing-

“You saw no one here, and you won't let anyone get near this precious contraption, now go on inside,” you glamoured the man, watching as he went back up the stairs, into the house.

Sighing, you began to leave the area, ignoring the strange stares. From the way everyone dressed, you were somewhere between the first three decades of the 19th century, and you were sticking out like a sore wearing the knee-length sundress. There was only one place you knew to go, to be sure of the date.

Coming to a complete stop in front of your home, you could see the lights on. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that if they were here, this wasn't the same Louis and Lestat you were having issues with, and so you'd have to act accordingly.

Opening the door, you could hear the shuffling of feet and the sound of furniture being torn apart. Furrowing your eyebrows, you went upstairs, surprised to see them in that room. Making eye contact with Louis, he did a double take.

“Y/n,” he said, taken away by your beautiful, he hadn't seen a dress made in such a way before, shorter than average, but still classy.

Hearing your name, Lestat opened that lovely pink coffin, climbing out, and tossing the diary to the side.

“Ma chérie, you stopped for shopping?” he asked, a small smirk in place.

“Did you see her?” Louis finally asked. At a loss of words, you struggled to speak for a moment.

“I'm sorry, I'm not feeling like myself, what year is it?” you asked.

“1920, you alright?” Louis asked, approaching you.

“Look who finally decided to crawl home to her coffin and write about her psychosexual behavior,” Lestat spat.

“You read my diary?” hearing that beloved voice, your eyes began to sting.

“Only a little bit,” Louis confessed.

“I read all of it and you are a little deviant brat,” Lestat said, as you slowly turned around. The bloody tears began trickling down your cheeks, as you stared into her eyes. She was real, in the flesh, not a figment from your dreams or old photos, but was here in front of you.

“Claudia,” you said, her name flowing from your lips caused you to visibly tremble.

“Mama,” she started, concerned, her eyes widening as you rushed over, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

Weeping bitterly, you held her close, unwilling to let her slip away this time, whispering sweet words of love to her. Confusedly, she hugged you back, as you both sat on the floor, holding her in your arms.

While the two men were originally set on disciplining their wild daughter, their concern now shifted to you.

“Claudia, you've been reckless-

“They're buried in Chalmette,” you interrupted, Lestat, your hand comfortingly brushing over her curls.

“How do you know that?” Louis asked, but you ignored him.

“My beautiful girl,” you whispered, hugging her one last time tightly, before letting her go.

“Are you okay, mama?”

“I couldn't be better at this moment,” you reassured her, kissing her forehead.

“Let her off this time, please, for me, she's still a child, and there will be a time when we wish we still had our beautiful girl staying here with us,” you said, facing them, seeing your blood-stained face, they were beyond concerned.

“It's still a little early for bed, perhaps you'd like to play a game of chess?” you asked her, wiping your eyes and accepting her hand, as she stood up.

Going into the living room, Claudia couldn't help but think about how unusually attentive you were being. Sure, she was just as spoiled as other children, but you never stopped her from being disciplined when you all agreed she needed to be.

“Claudia, you know I love you, right?” you asked her, watching as she set up the game.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Without you, an eternity isn't the same,” you admitted, as Lestat and Louis came downstairs, joining the two of you.

Your lovers watched you intentively, as you played the game with Claudia. Lestat noticed how you were letting her win, purposely moving to the wrong places, as she took your pieces while showering her with praises.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the interaction seemed different. Any other time you played chess with her, you gave her a challenge, expressing where she was improving or where she needed work. This time, you were treating her like a little child, like you hadn't seen her in forever, or would never see her again.

Time flew and after two long rounds, Louis stood, announcing Claudia needed to go to bed. Groaning, she stood, wanting to stay longer, but you shook your head.

“It's okay, you need your beauty rest, I love you so much, sleep well,” you told her, hugging her firmly once more.

“Love you too,” she mumbled before she was stomping up the stairs.

“Are you sure you are okay, ma chérie?” Lestat asked, as soon as her bedroom door shut.

“I am, I just, the thought of one day losing her, or being apart hurts my soul, our relationship would probably never be the same,” you said, smiling sadly at him.

“Why would we never be the same?”

“Because she's our daughter, and it would take losing her to see how much she is loved, even you, she's so much like you and that's why you clash so much,” you laughed.

“Wouldn't that make us stronger?”

“I wish that was the case, but holding onto the past makes you unable to communicate like you're supposed to-

“Where is all this coming from? Talk to us, what's on your heart?” Louis asked.

“Please don't question me, but there will be a time when we are so weirdly uninterested in each other, and we try to block out our issues with reading, music, and sex,” you said.

“Why though?”

“Holding onto the past”

“Then you'd have to remind us of what is ahead and not behind,” Lestat said, leaning down, pecking your lips.

Feeling your face burn from the passionate kiss, you looked down, your eyes widening noticing your fingers faded. You have watched enough sci-fi movies with Georgie to know it was time for you to leave.

“I need to make a quick run-

“The sun will be up in another hour,” Louis told you.

“I know, I won't be long, love you both,” you said, pecking both of their lips, before running out of the house.

As you ran back to the backyard, you were surprised to see the man back outside.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, seeing as he sat on the steps, watching the pod.

“I saw some kids run back here, so I’m just watching this contraption,” he shrugged. Staring at the man, you recognized him, Georgie’s grandfather, but much younger. You had seen the few photos hanging up on the house and you identified the face quickly.

“If you had advice for a future relative, a son or grandson, what would you tell him?”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. I get divorced, but I was able to experience a beautiful marriage, same with children, I was fortunate to experience fatherhood”

“Beautifully said, go get some rest,” you said, glamouring him, watching as he nodded, going inside.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, you cautiously stepped inside, shutting the door, as the fog came back, the machine lighting up, before you were gone.

“Anything?”

“You just asked me that a few minutes ago, please, have some damn patience,” George said to Lestat, who was pestering him about you. The man was trying as hard as he could and Lestat did not care one bit.

Suddenly, the pod lit up, the fog coming back. Typing on the computer the door opened, before you stepped out, your feet dirty.

“I was away 6 hours and 40 minutes, how long has it been?” you asked, tossing Georgie the stopwatch.

“2 long hours, you've been crying,” Louis said, going to pull you into a hug.

“I saw her, our girl, she was perfect,” you said, feeling him stiffen in your arms before his shoulders shuttered from crying.

“What was she doing?” he asked.

“She had gotten in trouble, but I convinced you both to let it go, and we spent time together,” you said, as he smiled, nodding.

“You told her you loved her?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” you nodded, as the hug tightened before he pulled away.

“And you told me something, so valuable,” you said, shifting to Lestat.

“Of course I did,” he smirked.

“You told me to remind you both of what is ahead of us and not our past,” you said, watching as he dabbed his eyes, stopping any tears on his part.

“Sounds like something I’d say, I guess,” he grinned.

“Are you ready to come home? I know you're probably exhausted from all of this?” Louis asked, grabbing your bag when you nodded.

Glancing at Georgie, who stood awkwardly waiting for you to finish with your reunion. Moving away from Lestat, you stood in front of your good friend, before pulling into a hug.

“Someone dear to you told me some valuable advice I want to share with you,” you smiled.

“Okay”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. Our past isn't meant to be changed, but rather we embrace the experience, both good and bad, because it shapes us into who we are. You might not be able to get your marriage back, but you could try to reach out to your children, Georgie,” you said, smiling as he teared up, agreeing with you.

“We have our own affairs to handle,” Lestat groaned, ready to leave the tiny basement.

“Shh,” Louis nudged him before you followed the two out of the house.

“Now that I think about Lestat was more charming back then, but now it's you, Louis,” you said, both of you laughing as Lestat scoffed, going on a rant about his greatness.

You missed Claudia greatly, but you had to keep moving, you all did. You still had an eternity of life, but maybe one day, just maybe, when you're reunited, she'll be where she belongs, back in your arms.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me (2)

Wandanat x human pet!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha have been looking for a pet for some time, but they've had no luck until they meet you, will you be a good fit for their lives?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+ due to themes, MDNI, heavy pet play, human pets, abuse, violence, hurt/comfort

Authors Notes: A little bit of bouncing around with the first few weeks of life with Bumble and her owners

Adjusting to your new life with Wanda and Natasha had been a challenge. You had been handed back more times than you could count, beaten, battered, broken, and subjected to unmentionable things by previous owners. Every new home started with a glimmer of hope that quickly faded into disappointment and fear. All owners seemed nice at first, but they always tired of you eventually. No one ever kept you more than a week. Your biting was a major issue, and you hadn't spoken in well over ten years. Your last owner had been particularly horrible, and you'd run away in desperation.

Now, as your first week with Wanda and Natasha passed, you found yourself left alone with Daddy more often. Natasha had taken your bed to her office which was a quiet and orderly space, filled with the scent of fresh flowers, a signature of hers. She did this so she could work while keeping an eye on you. So far, you had behaved yourself, but Natasha wasn't ready to let you wander the house unsupervised. You were always kept on a leash when outside to ensure you wouldn't run away. They knew you bit when scared and didn't want to risk you running off.

One afternoon, as you lay on your bed in Natasha's office, you heard the familiar sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Your heart leaped with excitement, and you bolted for the office door, pawing at it frantically. The sudden noise startled Natasha.

"What is it, Bumble?" she asked, her voice concerned.

You whined and looked back at her, your eyes pleading. Natasha got up, opened the door, and followed you as you bolted toward the front door. She worried for a moment but soon saw the reason for your excitement as Wanda stepped through the door. You jumped on her, nuzzling into her with fervent affection. Wanda smiled, dropping everything she had bought to wrap her arms around you.

"Hi Bumble! Did you miss Mommy?" Wanda asked, her voice filled with joy.

You showered her with affection, licking her face and wagging your tail furiously. She set you down, and you immediately began nosing through the bags she had brought. One particular item caught your eye—a new bed!

"This is going in the bedroom, Bumble, so you can be close to Mommy and Daddy!" Wanda announced cheerfully.

As Wanda carried the new bed to the bedroom, Natasha watched with a smile, clearly touched by the bond forming between you and Wanda. Wanda gave Natasha a kiss as she passed by, making you feel the warmth of their affection.

You happily followed Wanda into the bedroom. She placed the new bed on her side, ensuring there was enough room for you without the risk of being accidentally stepped on. The bed was even bigger and fluffier than the one in the living room.

You sniffed at the bed, your tail wagging and a smile on your face. Curled up in the soft, inviting cushion, you looked up at Mommy with a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. Wanda knelt beside you, running her fingers through your hair.

"You like it, Bumble?" she asked softly.

You wagged your tail even harder, the joy evident in your eyes. Wanda's heart melted at the sight, her love for you growing with each passing moment. She leaned in and kissed the top of your head.

"We're so glad you're with us, Bumble," she whispered. "You're part of our family now, and we love you very much."

As you lay there, surrounded by the warmth and love of your new family, a flicker of hope ignited within you. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. Maybe this time, you had truly found your forever home.

---------------------

Wanda decided it was time to start a gentle training session with you. She gathered your favorite treats—small, savory bits that you had grown to love since your arrival. Wanda knew that training would not only help you adjust but also strengthen the bond between you.

In the living room, Wanda sat on the floor, treats in hand, her voice soft and encouraging. "Alright, Bumble, we're going to do some training today. It'll be fun, I promise."

You watched her with cautious curiosity, still a bit wary from your past experiences. Wanda's calm demeanor and the delicious scent of the treats in her hand, however, piqued your interest.

"Come here, Bumble," Wanda called gently, holding out a treat.

You approached her slowly, your nose twitching at the enticing smell. Wanda gave you a treat just for coming closer, a small reward to show that this was a positive experience.

"Good girl," she praised, her voice filled with warmth. "Now, let's try something simple. Sit, Bumble."

At first, you were unresponsive to the command. The word "sit" held no meaning for you, a foreign sound amidst the many you had heard before. You looked at Wanda, unsure of what she wanted.

Wanda remained patient, repeating the command gently and using her hand to guide you. She placed a treat just above your nose, slowly moving it over your head. Your instinct followed the movement, and as your head tilted back, your body naturally lowered into a sitting position.

"Good girl, Bumble!" Wanda exclaimed, immediately giving you the treat and showering you with praise. Her excitement was contagious, and you felt a flicker of pride.

They repeated the process several times. Each time you sat, Wanda's joy and the delicious treat reinforced the behavior. The word "sit" began to connect with the action and the reward. Your trust in Wanda grew with each successful attempt.

After a few more tries, you started to sit on command without needing much guidance. Wanda's face lit up with pride. "That's it, Bumble! You're doing so well!"

Natasha, who had been watching quietly from the doorway, smiled at the sight. She stepped into the room, her presence always reassuring. "Looks like you’ve made great progress, Bumble," she said, her voice full of praise.

Wanda looked at you, her eyes shining with affection. "You’re such a smart girl, Bumble. I knew you could do it."

You wagged your tail, the sense of accomplishment and the positive reinforcement making you feel secure and loved. This training session was more than just learning commands; it was a step towards healing, trust, and the bond you were building with Wanda and Natasha.

Wanda gave you one last treat and a gentle pat on the head. "That’s enough for today. You did amazing, Bumble. We’ll keep working together, and soon you'll know so many new things."

As you settled back into your cozy bed, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The kindness and patience shown by Wanda and Natasha made you believe that you were truly part of their family. And for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful about the future.

----------------------------------------

You lay on your bed, eyes following Wanda as she moved around the room. She pulled out clothes, getting herself dressed first before turning her attention to you. Your previous owners had never dressed you; all you had known was your collar. But Mommy and Daddy liked to dress you up in cute little outfits. At first, you found them rather itchy, but over the past few weeks, you had slowly warmed up to the idea.

Wanda approached you with a soft, comfortable outfit in her hands. She smiled as she knelt down, her fingers gently guiding you into the clothes. "There we go, Bumble. You look so adorable," she cooed, giving you a pat on the head.

You wagged your tail slightly, feeling a bit more at ease in the outfit. But then, Wanda picked up your leash, and your heart began to race. Whenever a leash was involved, it usually meant you were being taken back to the pet shop. Panic set in as Wanda clipped the leash to your collar.

Sensing your fear, Wanda knelt beside you, her hand soothingly stroking your hair. "It's okay, Bumble. We're just going out for a little bit," she reassured you.

Despite her comforting words, the sight of the leash triggered a deep-seated fear within you. You bolted, the leash slipping from Wanda's hand as you ran to hide. You found a small, dark corner of the house and huddled there, trembling.

Wanda's voice echoed through the house as she searched for you, her tone calm and reassuring. "Bumble, where are you, sweetie? It's okay, you're safe."

Eventually, she found you, crouching down to your level, her eyes filled with understanding and love. "Hey there, Bumble," she said softly, extending her hand but not trying to touch you just yet. "It's alright. We're not going anywhere scary. I promise."

You whimpered, the fear still gripping you tightly. Wanda stayed there, patient and kind, giving you the time you needed to calm down.

"We're just going to the pet store," she explained gently. "You can pick out a toy, something special just for you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

You felt the reassurance in her words and, for the first time in a very long while, an unexpected surge of confidence. Taking a deep breath, you managed to find your voice, hidden for over a decade. A very soft and hoarse sound emerged from your throat.

"Yes, Mommy," you whispered.

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise, tears welling up as she realized what had just happened. She gently cupped your face in her hands, her expression a mix of astonishment and overwhelming joy. "Oh, Bumble," she whispered back, her voice choked with emotion. "You spoke!"

Hearing your own voice felt strange yet comforting. Wanda's reaction made you feel safe, and the warmth in her eyes told you that this was a big step for both of you.

Natasha, having heard the exchange, appeared in the doorway with a look of awe. "Did she just...?" she trailed off, her eyes locking with Wanda's.

"Yes," Wanda confirmed, still cradling your face. "Our Bumble spoke."

Natasha approached slowly, her usual stern demeanor softened by the tears in her eyes. She knelt beside Wanda, reaching out to stroke your hair gently. "That's amazing, Bumble. We're so proud of you."

Feeling the love and encouragement from both women, you nuzzled into Wanda's hand. The fear that had gripped you moments before started to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of belonging.

"Let's go to the pet store," Wanda said softly, her voice filled with pride and affection. "You can pick out anything you want, Bumble."

The pet store was a whirlwind of new sights, sounds, and smells, but with Wanda and Natasha by your side, you felt braver than ever. As you explored the aisles, countless toys and treats caught your eye, but there was one thing that stood out above the rest.

There, at the end of an aisle, was one of the biggest stuffed bears you had ever seen. It was just as big as you, with soft, fluffy fur and a friendly face. Without hesitation, you nosed your way over to it and grasped it in your mouth, your tail wagging furiously.

Wanda chuckled when she saw your choice. "Are you sure that's the one you want, Bumble?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

You looked up at her, the giant bear clutched proudly in your mouth, and gave a little nod. Wanda shook her head with a smile. "I did say anything," she sighed, her voice full of affection.

Natasha laughed softly. "Well, if that's what she wants, then that's what she'll get."

You carried the enormous stuffed bear to the checkout, where the cashier gave an amused smile at the sight of you and your chosen toy. Once it was paid for, you proudly carried it out of the store and into the car, careful not to let it drag too much on the ground.

Back at the house, you eagerly carried the bear inside, its size making you stumble a little but never dampening your enthusiasm. Wanda and Natasha followed, watching you with warm smiles as you navigated the hallways with your new friend.

In the bedroom, you carefully laid the bear down next to your new bed, snuggling up to it immediately. The softness of the bear and the familiar scent of Wanda and Natasha made you feel incredibly safe and loved.

Wanda knelt down beside you, gently stroking your head. "I'm glad you like it, Bumble," she said softly. "You deserve all the happiness in the world."

Natasha joined her, placing a hand on your back. "We're so happy you're with us."

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Daddy Issues (Simon Riley x GN! Reader)

Word count: 624

CW: Discussion of parental neglect/abuse

Tags: Hurt Comfort, heavy on the comfort, gender neutral reader, established relationship, ooc Simon Riley (I think)

Not beta read, you have been warn

A/N: Hey guys, I just went through a situation and needed some comfort, so I whipped this up. I thought you guys might enjoy it too.

Simon knew something was wrong when he couldn't find you anywhere downstairs. Usually, ehen he walked througu the door you were up to something, whether that was cooking, or reading a book in the living room, or working on your laptop at the dining room table. But it was eerily silent on the first floor.

He checked outside again, thinking maybe you had just gone to the store or something, but your car was still there. *Strange*, he thought as he shut the door behind him.

Quietly, he made his way through the house, checking every little detail to make sure everything was in order. Nothing was out of its usual place, no broken picture frames or sign of a struggle. After clearing the first floor, he cautiously made his way upstairs. And that's when he heard it.

Though combat had made his hearing much worse, he could pick out your soft sobs from anywhere.

He made his way to your shared bedroom, quickly pushing open the door, “Love?”

There you were, wrapped in a blanket with tears streaming down your face. You were curled into a ball, wiping your nose with your sleeve as sobs escaped your lips. Your eyes darted up to meet his, tears staining your cheeks.

In an instant, he was by your side, his hands wiping tears from your cheek, “Are you okay? You're not hurt are you?”

“I'm— I'm not— I'm not hurt,” you managed to get out, before adding, “Not— not physically, anyways.”

Simon nodded, “Okay, what happened?”

You were silent for a long moment, tears welling in your eyes again.

“I talked to my dad today…”

Simon visibly tensed as you said those words. You and your dad really didn't see eye to eye on much, and despite that, you still really loved your dad, and you so badly wanted your dad to love you the same.

Though Simon could understand the deep longing for dad who really truly loves you, he saw red every time you brought him up. He saw a man who didn't deserve to have you as his kid, a man who would rather be right over being anything else. He hated your father so truly and deeply, and the thought that your dad made you cry again really got under his skin.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, trying to keep an even demeanor, “How'd that go?”

You sniffled a bitter laugh, saying, “About as good as you'd expect.”

That really made Simon's blood boil, and though he wanted to find your father and show him the consequences of his actions, one look from your watery eyes brought him back down to Earth.

No matter how much your dad deserved to get his ass beat, that would never bring you peace or justice. And Simon knew that.

So instead, he climbed into bed with you, pulling you against him so that you had a sturdy shoulder to cry on.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, “Not right now, no.”

He nodded, resting his chin on your head, “Then just— let me hold you a while, okay?”

You nodded scooting closer as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He shook his head, “No need, sweetheart. Just…want to make sure you're okay.”

The two of you stayed like that for the longest time, with your face pressed against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. And though this didn't fix the issues you were having with your dad, it reminded you that you didn't have to face them alone. Simon was always in your corner, both metaphorically and literally. And that in it of itself, was something to take comfort in.

[buckysgrace]

I need enemy!billy to fuck me stupid and call me a slut :(

CW: Mean!Billy, Unprotected sex, hate fucking

You didn't get along with Billy. Not at all. He was arrogant, annoying. And he was determined to make your life a living hell.

He would pull your bra straps in class, flick pencils at the back of your head and stick his foot out to trip you whenever he got the chance. If you passed him in the hall, he'd shoulder check you. He'd tease you about the length of your skirts, regardless if they were short or long.

If you wore makeup, he'd point out that you were trying too hard, if you didn't wear any he'd ask if you had given up. As if he somehow thought you were trying to impress him.

As if.

The issue was that your friend group tended to overlap, just briefly but enough that you often ran into him. It wasn't like Hawkins was very big either, you saw him more often than not. And that was irritating too. He acted like he was something special, like you should care.

"You don't play hard to get, do you?" He asked you, eyebrows cocked as he brought his beer up to his lips again. His dirty blonde hair curled against his shoulders, the wind gliding it across his forehead as you rolled your eyes.

Ignoring him was best, so that's exactly what you did. You pressed your fingers over your skirt, doing your best to prove that it was plenty long enough. It touched your knees and that was what mattered. You didn't need his opinion anyways.

"On your period?" He tried again, taking advantage of how long your friends were taking to return, "Or maybe it's the stick that's always up your ass."

"I do not have a stick up my ass," You replied quickly, insides burning as electricity strummed through your veins. You quickly stood, desperately needing to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, "And you're the one that's easy." You pointed out before you turned, stomping your way back to the house.

"They went on a run for more beer," He chuckled, lazily following behind you, "It's just you and I." He sang, sounding far too cheery.

"You can fuck off now." You told him seriously as you yanked the door open, wishing you had gone with your gut feeling and taken your own car. Now you were stuck with him.

"You don't like talking?" He questioned as he pressed his hand against the door, keeping you from slamming it in his face, "I've heard you like doing other things with your mouth."

"You're disgusting," You told him as the anger pulsed inside of you, "You're not any better." You pointed out, sure that he had already slept his way through half the school.

You gripped the railing, pulling yourself up the stairs. You needed privacy, your own room to sit and breathe in for a while so you wouldn't end up losing your control.

"Where are you going?" He asked curiously, eyes glazing with mischief as you turned back towards him. You turned into the room, trying to slam the door but to no avail. He moved quicker.

"I'm so tired of you," You spit out angrily, pressing your finger roughly against his chest, "You're an asshole." You told him seriously, letting the fire inside of you erupt.

"Oh," He grinned, looking anything but upset as his eyes flickered over your features, "What else?" He teased, cocking both of his eyebrows as he stared at you intensely. He was amused. Playing with you.

"You're not even worth it." You replied as you crossed your arms, not wanting to give him the benefit of seeing your anger.

"Huh," He continued to wear that stupid smirk, making you wish you could smack it off of him, "That's funny coming from you." He added as he rested lazily against the dressed, sticking his arms out in front of him.

"Excuse me?" You asked in surprise, jaw dropping at what he was suggesting. You were nowhere near as bad as what he was.

"You're boring," He said with a shrug of his shoulders, "A doormat. There's not one thing that's interesting about you." He spoke dryly as he watched you.

"Fuck you." You were seething now, pulse racing as a fire of fury burned deep inside of you. You were so angry that you couldn't decide if you were going to scream or cry. Both seemed like a good option, but you didn't want him to see that.

He stalked towards you, lips curled up into the softest smirk as your feet remained stuck to the ground. You weren't fearful of him, you knew that the best he could do was insult you. But you weren't going to back down, not now.

Your eyes flickered over his features, trying to ignore how pretty he looked at the moment. You hated that he was attractive and even more that he knew it. He was cocky, arrogant. It drove you crazy.

You stalled as he came to a stop in front of you, tilting his head as his eyes remained locked on yours. Your heart flipped inside of your chest, trembling as his minty breath tickled against your face.

His lips were hot against yours, intense and warm as his palms fell to the side of your face. You should push him away, shove him back harshly. But you couldn't. Not when something electric spread through your body, tickling your veins.

You felt something in your brain shift, awaking you from your haze as you bit down harshly on his bottom lip. He grunted, his tongue flicking out against your teeth in surprise as he squeezed at your face.

You let him strip you of your clothes without a fight, his hands rough against your skin as he pressed you over the side of the bed. He pushed down roughly between your shoulder blades, your face falling into the mattress and your ass in the air.

"I knew it," He paraded proudly, a smirk evident on his features as you turned to look over your shoulder, "You're no better than the rest of them. Just as eager to spread your legs."

All insults died on your tongue at the feeling of his fingers brushing through your folds, collecting your slick before you felt the head of his cock against your entrance. You gulped, fingertips falling into a fist as he bullied his thick cock inside of your soaked cunt.

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut and jaw dropping as he stretched your slick walls inch by inch. His girth was thick, thicker than you had ever had as he buried himself inside of you.

"S'nice," He teased as his palms fell across the curve of your ass, small moans leaving your lips as you adjusted around him, "So fucking tight. She's leaking for me." He teased as some of his fingers fell to your clit, rubbing your sensitive bud gently.

"God," You breathed out roughly, mind feeling hazy as your eyebrows furrowed tightly together, "Feels good." You squeaked out softly as the pleasure burned deep inside of you, twisting your insides tightly together.

He laughed from behind you, his fingers electric against your skin as he snapped his hips forward. You whimpered at the sensation, the tip of his cock pressing against your bundle of nerves. You shook, your thighs trembling from the pleasure.

He squeezed at your tits, rolling them in his callused hands before he pinched your nipples. You whimpered at the feeling, overwhelmed as he began to slide his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. Everything inside of you was burning in an intense manner before he yanked your body back towards his slick chest.

Your mind felt hazy as you began to rock your body back along the curve of his cock, savoring his thick girth and the curves that decorated his skin.

The sound of your bodies meeting was dirty, filthy as his cock pressed deep inside of you. You craved the feeling, wanted to feel more of him as you continued to grind yourself back against him.

He groaned from behind you, his breath hot against your cheek as he smacked his palm across your thigh. Your cunt ached around his girth as you rocked yourself back against him, feeling a fresh wave of desperation crippling over you.

"You're so stupid, huh?" He teased, eyes flashing with lust as he tilted your chin roughly in his direction, "Already dumb around my cock. Such a dumb little slut." He groaned as you continued to fuck yourself along his cock, whimpering as words failed to come to you.

He spoke to you in a demeaning manner, insulting you. But you didn't care. Something about it made your cunt ache, your clit throb as he dragged you up and down the length of his cock.

Cries of pleasure left your lips, drool sliding down your chin as he continued to roughly snap his hips forward. You were leaking around the girth of his cock, coating his balls in your slick as you greedily grinded yourself back against him.

The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, spurring you on as your fingers fell into two fists. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

"See," He hummed against the side of your neck, his tongue briefly licking at your sweaty skin, "It doesn't hurt to be nice." He whispered gruffly as he kissed at your ear, then biting with enough force to make you yelp.

"I am," You spit out, struggling to breathe as the pleasure burned deep inside of you. He laughed, his sweaty chest rubbing against your back as he dipped another hand between your leg, "Fuck, fuck." You squeaked out, body spasming as he brought a thick finger against your clit.

He bit down on your skin as he continued to fuck into you from behind, his finger rubbing harshly against your swollen clit as your muscles spasmed roughly.

Everything inside of you burned, your mind going blank as the pleasure crashed over you. Your thighs snapped together as you came with a loud cry, whimpering as your cum slid down your thighs.

His groans vibrated across your skin as he continued to roughly grind his fingers against your clit. Your toes curled in awe, bliss overwhelming your cunt clamped down around his girth.

"That's a good girl," He groaned as he pulled out, letting you collapse onto the bed in a pile of good. You whimpered as you turned, watching the way he wrapped his thick fingers around his cock and roughly jerked himself off, "Such a fucking slut." He grunted, leaving no warning for you as he came harshly.

You gasped, blinking roughly as his warm spunk fell against your features. You gaped, feeling it across your cheek, lips and forehead. Some of it dripped across your eyelid, leaving you to quickly wipe it away.

"You're a dick." You hissed, in disbelief to what you had just done. You couldn't believe you had let him back in with no issue. He would think that he was right about everything. Anger boiled in your stomach again.

"And this here?" He questioned, tilting his head as his strong fingers fell against your sore cunt, "Belongs to me."

[xoxo-sarah]

Okay here is another idea because I love spamming you with them! It’s for our Stevie boy! Okay so basically neither Steve or the reader have had good role models for relationships. So because of this they kinda have a bad relationship, but know this so they sit down and talk and make a promise not to yell or storm out. So they fight and the reader is like whatever and leaves but Steve yells. It’s just their way of showing they care(the reader doesn’t like to fight so they leave to cool off and Steve needs to talk it out). Again this one is really just for me because I’ve never had a good relationship and my one relationship I had I dipped when things got semi hard 🤦🏼‍♀️ but like she tries that after they had their talk and Stevie won’t let her blah blah happy ending please because I need happy endings

Promises Between Us

(The headers have nothing to do with the fic but I didn't know what else to put)

↝a/n: quick fic. thank you for requesting! Enjoy 🩷 ily 💋

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: relationship problems, bad family issues, parent issues/ arguing, Steve's parents mentioned, crying, not proofread & rushed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.23.24

Steve was terrible at relationships.

He had never been good at them and would let you know if you were to ask him.

Growing up, he didn't have the best examples to follow. His parents were always away, and when they were home, they barely spoke to each other. Out in public, they had the "white picket fence and happy couple" fecade perfected. Honestly, it irritated how fake his parents were. They were the perfect couple to anyone who looked their way.

You, on the other hand, had your own set of issues. Your parents fought constantly, and you learned early on that sometimes it was better to just walk away. All the grief you felt as a child, stuck with you through your children, teenage years, and the start of your adulthood. It probably always will.

When Steve and the you started dating, you both knew it wouldn't be easy. You both cared deeply for each other, and tried to make it work with everything in your being.

But the past made it hard to navigate the complexities of a relationship, some days. You had your fair share of arguments, and more often than not, they ended with you storming out and Steve yelling after you. You always came back, and Steve always apologized. He made sure to make it up to you. You spent more time together, talking, asking each other about the other's day. Anything to erase what was said in the heat of the moment.

Today was one of those days where it was all too much. Steve came home from work, pissed. You simply woke up in a mood. Those two didn't mix well together. After one small comment, it all unravelled.

"You're not listening!" The words echoed through the house, yet seemingly not making their way to Steve, who stood heaving in fury.

"I don't want to deal with this right now- i shouldn't have to!" Steve scrubbed his jaw, feeling it clench.

You two stood across from each other, tired, yet too stubborn to see it from the other perspective.

Closing your eyes, you sighed, "Whatever, Steve." And walked to the bedroom, already getting ready for bed at 5 P.M. Steve stayed in the living room, grabbing something to drink. You both needed to cool off, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

Steve tiptoed his way to the bedroom, with night having already fallen. He stood in the door way, watching as you read a book while leaning against the bedframe. His chest fell.

"I'm sorry."

When you looked up, Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. Around your eyes was red, along with under your nose. The tissue box on the bedside table didn't help extinguish his assumption. You had been crying.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought it home and taken it out on you." He moved forward, toward you. Putting the book down, you sniffled, before nodding.

"Yeah, and I should've been more understanding." You watched as he sat beside you on the bed, before he grabbed your hand.

" I don't like arguing."

So, you both made the promise: no more yelling, no more storming out. You would talk things through, no matter how hard it got.

But promises are easier made than kept.

A few weeks later, you found themselves in the middle of another argument. This time, it was about something trivial, but it quickly escalated. You felt the familiar urge to leave, to cool off before things got worse. The living door invited you more and more as the argument escalated. Air, and quiet. That's all you wanted in the moment.

"Whatever, Steve," you said, turning towards the door.

"Wait," Steve's voice broke, desperate. His dark eyes were pleading, any hint of anger long gone. "We promised, remember?"

You stopped, hand on the doorknob. "I just need some space."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "We need to talk this out. I can't lose you."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I don't want to fight." The air that had become thick from the tension, released. Vulnerability aired out the living room, nipping at your fingertips like the cold weather in December.

"Neither do I," he said softly, taking your hand. "But leaving won't solve anything. Please, stay."

Looking into his eyes, you saw the sincerity there. Slowly, you nodded. "Okay."

You sat back down, and for the first time, you both really talked. You shared your fears, your insecurities, and your hopes for the future. It wasn't easy, but it was a start.

By the end of the night, you were both exhausted, but there was a new understanding between you two. You knew it wouldn't be perfect, but you were willing to try.

Steve pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Me neither," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[ash5monster01]

Piano Man

Chapter Two - If I Only Had the Words (to Tell You) 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of heartbreak, abandonment issues, emotional vulnerability, heart ache, established relationship

Summary: You and Steve have been dating for nearly 6 months, all of which he’s enjoyed. Yet it has been exactly a year since Nancy told him he was bullshit. So even though he desperately wants to tell you he loves you he’s afraid you might say he’s bullshit too.

word count: 2k

One ←→ Three

Masterlist

Fall 1985

But I only have these arms to hold you

It’s a dark Fall night. The house smelling of popcorn you had popped earlier to watch during a movie. Halloween decorations had been plastered all over Steve’s home, a home that hadn’t been decorated for any holiday in a very long time. You had changed that though, changed him. You made not only this home full, but his heart. Which is why Steve lies beside you in his bed absolutely hating himself for not being able to tell you how he feels. How much he loves you, how much you had saved him these last six months.

You had been there for it all. Cheering in the stands when he graduated, taking your lunch break to visit him everyday at Scoops Ahoy, not getting jelous of his newfound friendship with Robin, taking care of him when the monsters returned and the mall burned down, and even helping him and Robin get hired at the video store where you had worked this entire time. Everytime he thought you'd leave, somehow you were still there, and he appreciated you for every bit of it. So why the hell couldn't he say it?

He knew why. He knew because everytime he looked at the plastic Halloween decorations filling his home he was brought right back to Tina's Halloween party. Right back to that very bathroom where the only girl he ever loved looked into his eyes and told him he was bullshit. It had been a year but he still remembered how devastated he was, how his heart felt as she ripped it straight from his chest. The look in her eyes was seared into his memory, devoid of any emotion but distate blazing in them. He couldn't relive that, wouldn't relive that. Especially with you.

He may have loved Nancy but with you it was different. With you, he knew you were going to be the one. The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. Somehow he had found you and now he wouldn't do anything to risk it, he would guarantee it. It had hurt when Nancy said she didn't love him but if you did. Well that would kill him.

"What kind of candy do the kids like?" you ask in the dark bedroom, voice overlapping that of Billy Joel's from the cassette player. You're My Home played softly throughout the room and you wished Steve knew that was how you felt about him. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.

"Why do you ask?” Steve hums, hands reaching to run through your hair. He lived for nights like this, where you just laid here with legs tangled together and talked about things practically meaningless.

"Well I want to make them happy, I know how much they love Halloween. Dustin hasn't shut up about it all week and I want something to cheer Mike up. I know how badly they wanted to dress up as The Goonies but with Will and El gone they can't" you tell Steve, hand lacing with his own under the covers. Steve smiles softly at you and how much you care for the very kids he had taken under his own wing.

"I don't know what kind of candy they like, I'm sure whatever is fine. As for Mike, tell him we can be Andy and Brand. Maybe I can convince Robin to be Data or something" Steve tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The image of Robin in the Data costume meant for Will makes you giggle and Steve is pulling you closer, chest brushing against your own.

"You'd give up our Grease costume for that?" you ask, knowing how excited he was to be Danny Zuko and wear his leather jacket.

"Yeah but don't tell them that. They'll get big heads" Steve grumbles, practically hearing Dustin tease him about how much he loves all of them. You giggle against him and Steve warms over, feeling those very words sitting heavy on his chest. If only he had the words to tell you. He knew you were waiting, wondering why he hadn't said them. If you only had time to understand why he struggled with it so much. Everyone he ever loved left, if he said these words outloud he couldn't risk you leaving him too.

"You're the best Stevie" you tell him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Steve hums in delight, not allowing you to back away as he pulls you to his lips and kisses you quickly. He knows you love him, you only said things like that to replace those very words. If he would just say it your response would have been 'I love you Stevie'. Instead he gets broad statements that he has slowly come to despise.

"Yeah, yeah, best babysitter ever" he mumbles and you giggle because even though he pretends to hate it you know how much he loves it. How much he loves those kids. If he didn't he wouldn't spend time with them. One of those very kids was his ex girlfriend’s brother and he never let any of those things stop him. He was always there for them.

"Only the best can handle six kids at a time" you tell him and Steve searches your eyes, loving how when you look at them they’re filled with adoration instead of hate. He knows not saying anything won't change your feelings and you will carry on loving him without it. He just couldn't bring himself to say it, the urge never there even though he was practically dying inside to tell you. He wished you knew how hard it is to say.

Sometimes when he finds himself even close he feels silly. I love you seemed too simple to portray the love he had for you. It was so basic, a word your heard on the radio over and over again. Every song as simple as the last. How unoriginal were his words when the radio repeats them every single day? Even with his love for Billy Joel he figures he'll never find a song to sing you. One that perfectly depicted exactly how he felt about you. He doesn't want to sing those tired words again, words he wasted on people who never loved him back.

“You ever think about having kids?” Steve asks, leaning back into the pillow and staring at his ceiling. You admire the soft tufts of his hair on his chest, the way his bicep flexes as he reaches to tuck his hand under his head. He’s so handsome and it should scare you that your boyfriend of only six months has suddenly asked you about having kids and yet you don’t seem to mind.

“All the time” you tell him earnestly, snuggling into his side and grazing your fingers along his sternum, grinning when he shivers from your touch.

“I want to have a whole bunch, make me feel better about being an only child” Steve says, his hand pressed to your back slowly sliding up and into your hair.

“What do you mean, make you feel better?” you ask, lifting your head to glance at the boys face as he continues to be deep in thought.

“I was a lonely kid, my parents never really cared to pay any attention and without any siblings or cousins I was left to my own devices. I think it’s half the reason I was such an asshole in high school” he says, almost wincing at the thought of how many people he had treated like shit over the years just to guarantee he wouldn’t be all alone.

“You were protecting yourself” you say, understanding exactly what he means and Steve nods, eyes glancing down at your form.

“I want my kids to have built in friends and even better, present parents” he tells you and suddenly you find yourself wanting nothing more than to have kids with the boy beside you.

“You’ll be the best Dad Steve, I just know it” you tell him and there are those words again, sitting on his tongue and begging to escape but he just can’t seem to let them go. He hates himself for it, looking away before you see the regret in his eyes.

“I hope so, I just wish my Grandpa was still around to see it” he says, thinking of the only person in his life who ever really liked him for him when he was growing up. The man who had heaven sent you straight to him when he needed you the most.

“He is, don’t you worry about that Stevie” you tell him, eyes fluttering close as you listen to cassette playing in the room. The boombox clicked, indicating the start of a new song. Worse Comes to Worst slowly filling the room.

“Oh worse comes to worst. I’ll get along” you start singing the melody into the dark night air, the fall breeze fluttering in from the window and brushing against the curtains.

“I don’t know how, but sometimes - I can be strong” Steve starts singing along with you and suddenly your both giggling into the night, sharing a love for one another and a love for Billy Joel. The very man that had brought you two together.

“Do you ever get sick of listening to him?” Steve asks and you know he’s asking you about Billy Joel. You shake your head softly against his chest, gazing into those hazel eyes.

“No, he reminds me of you. Makes me feel close to you no matter where I am. Yet I suppose that’s exactly how he makes you feel about your Grandpa” you say, voice humming along the boys ribs.

“Yeah but now he reminds me of you too” Steve admits and you smile before leaning up and capturing his lips in your own. When you had approached the sad boy in the record store you never would have imagined it would bring you here.

"I'm gonna try and sleep" you tell the boy, snuggling closer and allowing your heavy eyelids to close. Steve smiles softly and presses another kiss to your forehead. He knows life goes on and tonight will soon be gone. Another missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels. His wished he had the words to tell you but instead he only has his arms to hold you, pulling you closer into him. It's really all you can ask of any man, to be held with such love even if he won't say it.

"Goodnight Rosy" he mutters, 'I love you' he says in his head. He knows disappointment swells in your chest, having been by his side for six months and waiting to know exactly how he felt about you. The only noise in the dark room now is the voice of Billy Joel and your soft breathing. He pulls you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms. When he’s sure you’re asleep he tells you.

"I love you Rosy, I really do. Just please don't give up on me, I promise I want to say it. You deserve to know just how much I adore you but every person I've ever loved has left me. I know you won't but I need time for my head to catch up with my heart. Until then, if I only had the words to tell you..."

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @notlilyyyy @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[astroismypassion]

8th house synastry

Hi,

I remember you, we talked about these 8th house overlays via messages. I hope you found some peace and calmness with it and the connection. You should always watch out for your emotional well-being and go inwards to what is it that you are feeling about yourself, in this connection, not how you feel about this person.

ESSAY ON 8TH HOUSE SYNASTRY

This is like an essay, my personal testiment to the 8th house Synastry in this moment. After having two major connections with 8th house Stelliums in the house overlays right one after another since 2018 up till now, I'd say there are lessons I learnt. The first one would be that you need to acknowledge that 8th house synastry points to you that you are in A PATTERN in some areas of your life. Be it you have the same pattern in how you go about your day, daily routine, you have the same pattern in how you enter partnerships, you have a pattern of a self-destructive habit (such as drinking too much caffeine for example). And this is brought to light and your attention, because you have a chance to change this right now and then.

Second point, there a things you haven't transformed, when you should've. You haven't processed or dealt with communication issue with your mother for example, you haven't figured out your values yet. And now this is interfering with your relationship with the person that you have 8th house synastry with or any other relationship, connection with people in your life. And that 8th house connection will bring this up. It's like through 8th house connection, you actually learn about yourself and you gain the self-awareness and self-accountability and the chance to do that and transform (the part of yourself that it doesn't serve you in the first place).

The third point, you will get a good outlook on where you're at in your life, but like realistically. It will show you whether you should pursue the potential that you always had in you to start another cycle of education. It will show you whether you are making enough money and are you truly supporting yourself finacially as much as you think you do. It will show you whether you are truly present with your family members or are you living on autopilot with them. In a way it slows you down and it gives you an opportunity as to what you should be doing to fulfill your full potential.

I'd say 8th house Synastry is great for mostly self-discovery, because yes, you are getting to know the other person and learn about them, but in reality all interactions bring you back to you.

@astroismypassion

[kingsmoot]

Something I haven't seen brought up much with the ramsay vs manderly horn wood question is about Donella Hornwoods own claim to those lands. She's not a Hornwoods by blood, but by marriage, so she would only have widow's use rights (which I believe are the rights to live there and be supported). Hornwood would need to pass to the next blood claimant or revert to the crown to dispense with if one can't be found. This is why I'm especially confused as to how she can name Ramsay inheritor in a will to lands she doesn't own. (Whereas Catelyn clearly doesn't have the power to will winterfell to Arya over Jon despite being in the same position as the widowed Dowager Queen/Lady)

Instead, it's the manderlys and the bolton at odds over who owns that land, both through Donella, even though she herself doesn't seem to have actual inheritance rights to it. (As opposed to Sansa Stark, who is a blood claimant so Tyrion could legally rule winterfell through her) In any case I think the real crux of the issue, like with the forced marriage, is bigger army diplomacy. Bran mentions a bastard, but unless said bastard can raise an army or get the millitary support of a larger faction, those lands are going to the bolton or the manderlys.

I imagine there isn't a blood relative with any real millitary backing or roose and wyman wouldn't be going through all this trouble for someone who technically only has widow's use rights.

Ultimately, because armies are honestly the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (Aegon II acknowledged as king over Rhaenrya I in histories because he won the war, Maegor over Aegon the uncrowned because he won the war, even the Tyrell's claim to highgarden being a bit dodgy in terms of blood relations but backed up by the targaryen millitary power of the time etc), whether or not Donellas's marriage and contract are going to be considered valid according to history will depend on who is in power. Should the boltons be toppled, I think the new lord/lady/king/queen of the north will suddenly be hearing a lot of arguments about the legality of vows forced at sword point that no one dares take to roose bolton now.

hello anon, thank you for your thoughtful message!! the hornwood marriage and its fallout is one of my favorite subplots of the series so i'm always thrilled to talk about it.

while i agree with your final conclusion that armies are the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (i talked about this here re: lord manderly and his squatting on hornwood after donella's death), i think you're underselling donella's legal claim to hornwood as lord hornwood's widow as they apply to her lord husband.

look at lysa tully, jon arryn's widow:

agot, chapter 34, catelyn vi

you could say that lysa only has a claim to the vale because she has the men to back it. lady hornwood is alone. her son and her husband were killed, and the majority if not all of her household guard were killed as well. she is the last remnant of house hornwood.

the degree to which wives who marry into greathouses are integrated into that breathouse is variable. cat, as a notable example, calls herself a stark as often as she calls herself a tully. tyrion (and others i think) calls her a shewolf. she considers herself an outsider, a riverlander in the north, but as the series progresses and especially after ned's death she speaks about herself in her private thoughts and aloud in public as a stark of winterfell. cersei, on the other hand, would drop dead before she called herself a baratheon. and lysa falls moreso in the middle, where she is called lysa tully and after the death of her husband is often reminded of/aligned with her familial connections to house tully, but absolutely considers herself Of The Vale, even though she's spent about fourteen years in king's landing with jon serving as robert's hand. (donella, for as long as we know her, is always and by everyone referred to as lady hornwood, never donella manderly).

so one could argue that lysa tully is pointedly not an arryn, and is only holding the vale because her son is a blood claimant AND she has tully and arryn forces to support her own claim in the meantime.

but suitors are beating down lysa's door because they want the vale. and the vale would pass to them as the new head of the vale and defacto head of house arryn. i was going to use ramsay as an example but his bastard status makes this more complicated so let's pick a legitimate second son. why can't i think of anyone.

actually, let's say tyrion, since you also mentioned sansa's blood rights to winterfell.

tyrion is heir by blood to casterly rock, since jaime is a knight of the kingsguard and thus unable to inherit. let's axe that because it also makes things more complicated. jaime leaves the kingsguard as tywin wants him to do and he inherits casterly rock and becomes warden of the west. this leaves tyrion a second son with no blood claim to casterly rock (similar to the blackfish, who left house tully to go with lysa to the vale and serve house arryn. i didn't use him as an example because lysa's husband also being a tully would muddy the waters of an example that is already stretched pretty thin). so tyrion marries lysa tully. tyrion is now lord of the vale, stepfather to lord robert aryn. tyrion's first order of business would be siring a son on his new wife so that lord baby lannister-tully would become the new heir to the vale, trumping robert arryn's claim. all of this would come from lysa tully's claim to the vale, as the widow of jon arryn.

importantly, donella hornwood is considered an elligible marriage prospect by the men at winterfell, even if she is too old to have children.

Midday came and went. Maester Luwin sent Poxy Tym down to the kitchens, and they dined in the solar on cheese, capons, and brown oatbread. While tearing apart a bird with fat fingers, Lord Wyman made polite inquiry after Lady Hornwood, who was a cousin of his. “She was born a Manderly, you know. Perhaps, when her grief has run its course, she would like to be a Manderly again, eh?” He took a bite from a wing, and smiled broadly. “As it happens, I am a widower these past eight years. Past time I took another wife, don’t you agree, my lords? A man does get lonely.” Tossing the bones aside, he reached for a leg. “Or if the lady fancies a younger lad, well, my son Wendel is unwed as well. He is off south guarding Lady Catelyn, but no doubt he will wish to take a bride on his return. A valiant boy, and jolly. Just the man to teach her to laugh again, eh?” He wiped a bit of grease off his chin with the sleeve of his tunic.

acok, chapter 16, bran ii

here we see lord manderly scheming to get the hornwood lands by marriage, for either himself or his son

Bran wanted to give the lady a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik only said, “He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my lady … though perhaps in time, when your grief is passed, you may find it prudent to wed again.”

“I am past my childbearing years, what beauty I had long fled,” she replied with a tired half smile, “yet men come sniffing after me as they never did when I was a maid.”

“You do not look favorably on these suitors?” asked Luwin.

“I shall wed again if His Grace commands it,” Lady Hornwood replied, “but Mors Crowfood is a drunken brute, and older than my father. As for my noble cousin of Manderly, my lord’s bed is not large enough to hold one of his majesty, and I am surely too small and frail to lie beneath him.”

Bran knew that men slept on top of women when they shared a bed. Sleeping under Lord Manderly would be like sleeping under a fallen horse, he imagined. Ser Rodrik gave the widow a sympathetic nod. “You will have other suitors, my lady. We shall try and find you a prospect more to your taste.”

“Perhaps you need not look very far, ser.” After she had taken her leave, Maester Luwin smiled. “Ser Rodrik, I do believe my lady fancies you.” Ser Rodrik cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

and here we see donella both acknowledging her many suitors and flirting with ser rodrik (cute!!!)

immediately after this though we get a more pragmatic breakdown of why donella's dead husband and son cause issues politically:

“She was very sad,” said Bran.

Ser Rodrik nodded. “Sad and gentle, and not at all uncomely for a woman of her years, for all her modesty. Yet a danger to the peace of your brother’s realm nonetheless.”

“Her?” Bran said, astonished. Maester Luwin answered. “With no direct heir, there are sure to be many claimants contending for the Hornwood lands. The Tallharts, Flints, and Karstarks all have ties to House Hornwood through the female line, and the Glovers are fostering Lord Harys’s bastard at Deepwood Motte. The Dreadfort has no claim that I know, but the lands adjoin, and Roose Bolton is not one to overlook such a chance.”

Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. “In such cases, her liege lord must find her a suitable match.”

“Why can’t you marry her?” Bran asked. “You said she was comely, and Beth would have a mother.” The old knight put a hand on Bran’s arm. “A kindly thought, my prince, but I am only a knight, and besides too old. I might hold her lands for a few years, but as soon as I died Lady Hornwood would find herself back in the same mire, and Beth’s prospects might be perilous as well.”

“Then let Lord Hornwood’s bastard be the heir,” Bran said, thinking of his half brother Jon. Ser Rodrik said, “That would please the Glovers, and perhaps Lord Hornwood’s shade as well, but I do not think Lady Hornwood would love us. The boy is not of her blood.”

“Still,” said Maester Luwin, “it must be considered. Lady Donella is past her fertile years, as she said herself. If not the bastard, who?”

“May I be excused?” Bran could hear the squires at their swordplay in the yard below, the ring of steel on steel.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

so we're right back to the point where you and i totally agree. the only thing that REALLY decides inheritance rights in westeros is the point of a sword.

which wheels us back to my longstanding point (arrived at throughout my first reread and with the help of many friendly mutuals and anons who contributed to my understanding of the issue) that ramsay kidnapping donella hornwood and marrying her at swordpoint is unusual because he is an unrecognized illegitimate bastard when he does it, but is at the end of the day not that much more brutal or unheard of than any other run of the mill marriage in westeros.

so donella here is like a vector through which the hornwood lands would pass. lysa's situation with the vale is similar, though her claim to the keep and its lands is stronger because she has a living heir AND both tully and arryn forces to guard her claim.

ramsay banked on the dreadfort's forces to protect him from the ramifications of kidnapping raping and murdering a noblewoman AND to hold the hornwood lands. the dreadfort forces could do neither. but the marriage was not a total loss politically since as i have said, ramsay is the legal claimant to the hornwood lands, AND roose has an interest in holding those lands as well so he would back his claim if it came to it.

as with all things in westeros, whoever carries the biggest stick wins the day, regardless of written law or unwritten social custom.

so at the end of the day, i think donella's legal rights to hornwood are strong only insofar as they serve her new lord husband, who stands to inherit her land. which. actually reading over all this again i think it is accurate of you to say that donella only has widow's rights for as long as she does not remarry. but that is less to do with westerosi legal code (nonexistant) and more to do with hornwood having no military strength left AND their leige lords the starks being stretched too thin with the WoFK to lend their help before it's too late to do so.

donella can will her lands to her new husband ramsay because she would have functionally been doing to same thing if lord manderly or his son married her. or if ser rodrik married her. donella has claim over hornwood only insofar as she can give it to her lord husband.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Husband Of The Year

𖤐Pairing: Retired! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, Scottish slang, teasing, P in V, fingering, feminism, breadwinner Y/n, male wife Soap, kissing/making out, groping, nipple play, male masturbation,

𖤐Summary: Soap had retired from the Military a few years ago, and when he got married to his wife he started to become the best husband of their lives.

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4:00PM

Y/n was coming home and her husband Soap had just made dinner for the both of them. He poured out some red wine for Y/n and poured some whiskey in a glass for him. He saw headlights pull into his driveway knowing it was his wife.

He goes to the front door, opening it and then seeing Y/n get out of her car and sees her husband.

"John."

"Hi, mo luaidh (my darling)." Soap says, placing his hand on her waist. "Come on," he says guiding her into the house.

Once the door was opened and Soap moves down and removes Y/n's heels from her feet. His hands were gentle on her ankles and his fingers gently caressed her calves up to her thighs.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Nothing...am I not allowed to cook for my wife?"

"You are allowed to," she smiles at him.

"I always cook for you, mo luaidh (my darling)." He kisses her knee and then stood back up.

"What did you fix?"

"Your favorite," he says, guiding her to the dinning room and showing her the meal he made for her. "Red wine too," he says.

"Thank you, John, I'm gonna change and come back down," she says. Soap nods and sits at the end of the table.

Y/n soon came downstairs in a light purple silk nightgown that stopped at her mid thigh, Soap's eyes widened as Y/n's hair was a bit messy as well, doing it on purpose teasing Soap.

He smirks leaning back in his chair, he stood up pulling her chair out for her to sit, she does and he pushed her closer to the table.

"You look gorgeous, mo luaidh (my darling)." He leans down and kissed her temple.

"Thank you," she smiles at him as Soap went to his chair.

"How was work?" He started to make small talk with his wife.

"A mess," she says.

"How so?"

"We have an employee that calls in almost everyday, her excuse is pulling the 'I'm sick' card when she isn't sick, it's because she doesn't want to work and it's very obvious, she has come to me many times complaining about work, and then saying she'll call in because 'she's stressed out'...stressed out about what? Watching videos on your phone? She doesn't work!" Y/n was an exclusive director for the company she works at.

If she could she would fire this woman, but it's not her call. It was obvious that the woman gets under Y/n's skin a lot. Even the General Manager has an issue with this woman and they've both talked to her and the CEO about her.

Soap usually hears a lot about this woman and how she is basically a problem for the company. All that woman has to do is order products make sure they come in on time and calls people to let them know their products come in, but she never does it half of the time and sales people have to do her job for her, which pisses them off.

"I bet, what number is this?"

"23 and counting," Y/n says annoyed by this woman. Y/n eats her dinner as Soap just listens her her rant and enjoy her company.

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with someone like her," Y/n says.

"Well, I dealt with people like that in the Military."

"Really, how come you never told me?"

"Just never brought it up," he chuckles. "But I can tell you about the one who was released early from duty."

"Tell me!" She says, leaning on her hand to listen to her husband talk.

Soap tells her about a new recruit coming to the Military and two days in was released from duty because of bad conduct making him go to court because of his stunt.

"Yeah, you never told me that," she giggles.

"Again, we've never talked about it," he says. "Not only that it was a while ago, when I went to Russia for a week, I kind of forgot about it till now," he says as he moves his fork to his mouth.

"I see."

"Anything else going on?" He asked her.

"We...fired a girl," Y/n says.

"Fired someone?! What happened?"

"Remember that one girl I talked about when I caught her in the bathroom with a male employee?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well, she was caught in the male bathroom...masturbating and we called a meeting with her, with all managers and directors and...the CEO decided to fire her."

"H-How the hell did she get into the males bathroom without getting caught going in?"

"I'm not sure, the person who caught her doing it was the director of Marketing, she left the door unlocked and was caught."

"Holy shit-did you bring up the time you caught her?"

"I did in the meeting after we fired her, we discussed the times we caught her and how we hid it till we called a meeting with her," Y/n says.

"Your company is a shit show."

"Oh I know, we try our best to control it, and it seems like a shit show when the CEO leaves for anything, and his assistant tries to control everything when he's gone," she pokes at her food.

"Anyways enough work talk. You done, mo luaidh (my darling)?"

"Yes," she says as Soap stood up taking his and hers plate to the sink. She stood up and walked to her husband. Her arms go around his waist.

"Mo luaidh?"

"I'll be upstairs," she says, walking away and Soap watches her walk away.

-----------

Soap turns off the lights downstairs and walk upstairs through the hallway and at the end of the hall was his shared bedroom with the light on. He pushes the door open seeing his wife still in her silk nightgown, she was on her stomach reading one of her books, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at her husband before putting a bookmark in her book.

She rolls over and look at her husband placing her book on her nightstand.

"Come here," she says with her arms open and Soap crawls on top of her. She kissed the top of his head and he kisses her neck. "John?"

He starts to move down kissing her neck, chest, between her breasts, and then her stomach. His hands groped at her breasts, his hands move under her nightgown and his fingers played with her hard nipple.

She lets out a soft moan as he was gentle with her. Ever since Soap's retirement, he treats Y/n like she is the last thing on Earth, their sex was amazing because of Soap and how he would make her feel, and how he started to figure out what she liked during sex.

They tried new things they've never tried before, or they would do things they both knew they got off.

Soap then moves down pulling at her panties, pulling them down and off her ankles, he tosses them somewhere in the bedroom. He then starts licking his lips and then starts licking between her wet folds.

He kisses between her folds. He spits on her clit and rubs a few minutes earning moans from Y/n, her hand holds his wrist as he then shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her.

Her back arches with the pleasure overwhelming her. Soap smirks at her and then starts licking and sucking on her clit. His tongue flicked against her bud a few times, moans filled the room, he used his free hand and pulled his dick out.

He pumps himself a few times. He loves her moans, her back arching because of the pleasure. She used her hand to help him. He moans letting her do all the work.

He kept licking her and kissing her slit. Her hands pumping him quickly and teasingly slowly down. She'll pick up the pace just to hear him moan and the vibrations from his mouth against her clit made her feel good.

He then moves his mouth and fingers and she whines when he moves away. Her hand wasn't touching him anymore. He pulls his boxers off and then starts aligning himself up at her entrance.

She smiles placing her hands on his neck bring him close to her, lips touching as he first starts out slow and easy, them both rocking back and forth against each other.

Their make out session was soft and easy, but back rough with her biting at his bottom lip as he pulls away and groans when feeling her teeth pull at his lip.

His thrusts were rough and sloppy. The same with his kisses, they were sloppy and messy. Y/n's moans filled the room and skin slapping as well.

Soap kissed her neck, jawline and the back to her lips. Y/n's nails then dug into his muscular back. He groans when feeling the sudden pain digging into his back, but he ignored it, he was on a mission to make his wife feel good.

He looks down at her, her face all red and his ears were filled with moans. Y/n then dragged her fingers from his back to his shoulders and then down to his buff chest.

Y/n felt herself close to coming. She let's out another moan and then tightened around Soap's cock, he moans feeling her tighten around him.

"Come on, mo luaidh (my darling), cum for me," he groans as she did what he asked, she ended coming on his dick, he pulls out and watches as cum leak from her clit slowly.

He bends down and starts licking her clean. Her hands held the end of her silk nightgown lifting it up as Soap was cleaning her up.

The retired Sargent, sits up on his knees smiling down at his wife and picked her up taking her to the bathroom.

He places her on the sink and starts a bath. Making sure it was hot and then placed some bubbles in the bath, Y/n removes her silk nightgown placing it on the floor and Soap picks her up and placing her gently in the bath.

"I'll be right back," he says, kissing her lips and heading out of the bathroom, she could see him snatch a clean pair of boxers and hurried to put them on.

She messes with the bubbles in the tub and cupped them in her hands and placed it back on the bubbles. Soap comes back with two glasses and the red wine he poured before.

He gives her one and then held the other, he leans on the side of the tub to watch his wife, his head resting on his arm, she talks to him and he listens.

"Do you want wash you?" He asked.

"Yes," she says as he grabs a loofa and puts her body wash on it. He starts to gently rub it on her arms, shoulders, she gently stood up. He then washed her stomach, back, between her legs, thighs and butt.

----------

30 Minutes Later

Y/n was on the bed with Soap holding her against his chest as she reads her book and Soap was watching TV on a low volume so Y/n could read her book.

She flips the pages with one hand and then other played with his arm hair as his left hand rested on her thigh and the other resting against her stomach and that hands rested close to her butt and he gently tapped her side to a random beat.

She closes her book, placing it on her nightstand and then looking at the TV to see what Soap was watching. Soap has been on a kick on watching old documentary's about old military planes, and wars that had happened in the past.

"What's this one about?" Y/n asked.

"Old planes and Vets stories about war," he says.

"Oh," was all she said as she cuddled up to Soap closing her eyes and falling asleep.

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Next Morning (6:00AM)

Y/n had woken up to her alarm, groaning as she turns it off, she rolls over to face Soap, he was big spooning her, his eyes closed and he looks peacefully sleeping.

Y/n kissed Soap's lips and got out of his buff arms, she gets up like normal, brushing her hair, and starting her shower getting in and washing her body and hair.

As the water run, Soap wakes up and hears the water, he rolls over seeing the bathroom light on and the door cracked trying not to shine the light on him as he slept.

He stretched up and got out of bed. Heading downstairs to then make tea for Y/n and himself some as well, Soap doesn't drink tea as much as Y/n, she only drinks it to be calm before she works.

Y/n walks downstairs seeing her husband making the hot tea, she was in a towel around her body and another holding up her hair. Soap smiles seeing her.

"How was your shower?" He asked.

"Fine," she yawns as she was handed her mug taking a small sip. Soap walks behind her placing his hand on her hip kissing her temple as she sipped from her mug again.

"Go get dressed and I'll make you some breakfast," he says as she walks upstairs getting dressed and taking her damp hair out of the towel.

Soap had made her some waffles and she ate before going back upstairs to do her hair, make up and grabbing her purse and heels.

"Okay, I'll see you later, John."

"I'll see you, later mo luaidh (my darling)." He kissed her lips and he watched her leave for her work.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (14) - Collide

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.3k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Where do we go from here when they're tearing down our lives?-

The steaming mug of hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and another night all alone. If only there weren't so many memories tied to this house she would have moved somewhere, at least to an apartment or something. It would be more manageable, that was for sure. It was just too hard to think of anywhere else as her home. Even now that she had a second chance in you.

In a way, at the very least.

You've said it once, you're not Zack. You're still the only family he had beside her. At least as far as the family that accepted him goes. So, in a way, you were the only living reminder of him. You made her so happy when you visited her. And you brought the most wonderful, loving girl, with you. Watching you happy, in a healthy, wonderful relationship with someone as kind and loving as Tara, even after everything the girl went through, made Susan feel at peace.

Her phone suddenly rang. Maybe it was you, she rarely got calls from anyone else, but you made sure to call every now and then. Then she'd get to talk to you, Tara, and sometimes even Sam. Now that she thought about it, she had an unread message from you, she got it while she was at work and then it slipped her mind to read it later. That was probably why you were calling. So, Susan picked up her phone.

"Hello, Susan," she didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was one of the patients from the hospital, or a doctor or a nurse she rarely talked to.

"Hello, I'm sorry, but who is this?" she took a sip from her mug, the warmth easing her loneliness as she waited for the answer.

"Oh, no one important. I was actually calling because of Y/N, she told me you are her half-brother's mother and that if anything happened, I could call you," Susan immediately sat up straight at that. No matter what, no matter how close you and Susan got over the past year you did not share that information with anyone other than your closest friends. The fact that whoever this man was knew about Zack was alarming.

"Did something happen to her?" she wanted to hang up and call you right away.

"Not yet, no, but it could. So, what's your favorite scary movie?" Susan, having read the books after what happened to you, recognized the line. She remembered the state you and Tara were in when you came to her house.

If what she heard was true she was done for. The killer was with her. So, she hung up, quickly opening the messages. She didn't even get to type a single letter before a knife stabbed her back. She cried out, dropping her phone. The piercing of her flesh continued as the figure of a masked monster in black robes came into her line of sight. The stabs would have been enough, but the killer made two deep cuts on the crooks of her arms. She'd bleed out slow enough for it to hurt, but quickly enough so that no one could help her.

And then the monster left her, lying on the floor, with Zack’s gloves in hand.

She could barely move her arms, but the adrenaline still pumping through her veins helped her reach the phone. She managed to type exactly three letters as her vision became blurry and hit send. She wouldn't be found until two days later when a neighbor noticed her doors were left wide open.

Thousands of miles away, all the way in New York you were woken up by your phone. You groaned, reaching over to your nightstand, and blindly grabbing your phone to look at the message. You smiled. Leave it to Susan to respond with only one word.

"Mhmm, Y/N," Tara complained sleepily as she hid her face from the light coming from your screen.

"Sorry, Love,” you kissed the top of her head as an apology. “It's Susan. I'm guessing she's down to spend Thanksgiving with us," you couldn’t help but pull her a bit closer when you felt her smile against your neck. It was Tara's idea, really, because not only did you have spare room, but Susan was important to you, and Tara liked her a lot as well, so it was a logical suggestion as far as Tara was concerned. Once you heard that you went and invited Susan to spend a week in New York, since you hadn't seen each other ever since you came to New York.

Her response? Fun. You figured that was a 'yes' and sent her a thumbs up, which she immediately read. No response came, but you expected that, as Susan wasn’t too big on texting. You'd just call her after you figure out a proper plan for that week. Which would have to wait, because you had another exhausting week ahead of you.

~X~

Nine, god damn, hours. You felt like you were just about ready to kick Thomas' ass for just dropping a two-week-long vacation on you out of the blue. If only it was your vacation.

So, instead of canceling his classes you were replacing him. Instead of doing the morning sessions and the second afternoon training session, which would mean 4 and a half hours at the gym, you were stuck with Thomas' sessions as well. Which basically meant you were at the gym from 6:45 am to 10:15 a.m., then again from 11:45 a.m. to 3:15 p.m., and finally from 4:45 to 8:15 p.m. So, nine hours of training people and an hour and a half to keep the gym running. By the time you came home after the third training session, you were too exhausted to do anything. And you meant anything! Cooking? Cleaning? Almost all of your chores were now split between Sam and Tara and you. The best you could do was wash the dishes or do some light cleaning, and you were done.

Tara hated it even more than you did. You tried, you really did, you'd go back home after each double training session, and you'd buy flowers, things like that, but it didn't help much. You loved how needy Tara was, how she wanted to spend time with you, to be held by you. Right now, her neediness proved to be a double-edged sword.

You tried to watch a movie with her, but you fell asleep. Tara understood that. She did not understand how you fell asleep last night while she kissed your neck. She wouldn't even look at you or speak to you when you dropped by after morning sessions.

That's how you ended up right where you were now. Parked near the building where Sam’s therapist worked. It was a busy night, which was to be expected, people were partying and wearing costumes, and the usually busy streets got even more hectic. At least the night was clear, though maybe a bit ominous, or maybe you were just too tired. You would have liked to be at home, with Tara, apologizing for last night, but you were waiting for Sam instead, because you had a feeling it would be better if Sam was with you when you came home. You couldn't be more thankful when she came out of the therapy much sooner than she was supposed to.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you greeted the moment Sam got into the passenger seat. Then you noticed the look on her face, that defeated look that told you she opened up a bit and it didn't go well. "Rough therapy?"

Sam looked at you, her eyes softening as she noticed just how tired you looked. "Rough day?"

You turned the engine on, loving the way the car came to life. "You have no idea," you sighed, just ready to get home, take the coldest shower possible to keep yourself awake, and hopefully make up for the last night's inability to stay awake. At least driving wasn't an issue. You never bothered to seek an explanation, but whenever you were driving you were completely awake, no matter how little sleep you had, or how tired you were. Step out of the car, sleepy, behind the wheel, completely awake. Maybe it was as simple as being responsible and not wanting to get into an accident, frankly, you only cared that you could drive and not worry about falling asleep.

"Tara?" Sam guessed, though that probably wasn't difficult, you saw how cranky Tara was this morning. Sam must have seen it as well.

"Uh... let's just say I fell asleep when I shouldn't have," you blushed, hoping that Sam wouldn't question it further.

"You've been exhausted ever since Thomas left, I'm sure Tara understands that," Sam did not avoid further questioning. Even though she was mostly trying to comfort you.

"Yeah, not when you fall asleep while your girlfriend is kissing your neck," you grumbled through clenched teeth. You didn't need to turn to look at Sam, you could feel the incredulous look on her face. In your defense, Tara was warm, and lying on top of you, and you were tired, and the kisses felt really comforting and good. Comfy and sleepy was a combination not even you could beat.

Sam suddenly began stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just funny," well, you'd probably laugh about it once Tara gets over it. "You two will be fine, Tara just misses you, you know?"

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the road. You knew better than anyone how Tara was, you knew how much she missed you, and she knew you missed her too. She was just being salty at the moment. "I know, Sam, I miss her too," you couldn't help but smile, it was just a small lover quarrel, not even that, really, since you didn't have the capacity to participate.

"I have an idea," you were vaguely aware of Sam pulling out her phone. Was she calling Tara? Probably.

No one answered though and you were suddenly reminded of what happened roughly four months ago.

"You know you're supposed to pick up when I call," Sam's concerned voice made you even more worried. "I got out of therapy early and Y/N is driving me back home. I was thinking we could cook dinner tonight. I mean, if that's what you'd like," she left the message and sighed.

"She probably, ah, I don't even know, maybe her phone is charging?" you were grasping at straws, but you weren't ready to think of the other options just yet.

"Or she's at a party, Omega something," Sam buried her face in her hands, trying her best to not get frustrated right away.

"What party?" shit, you were starting to think falling asleep last night was the worst possible timing, ever.

"There's a frat party tonight, she really wanted to go, but I begged her not to," the arrangement you and Sam managed to get Tara to agree to, remained unspoken.

After Tara first disappeared and went to a party the three of you came to an agreement. She could have her parties, as long as you or Sam were with her. Mindy or Chad wouldn’t do, Tara refused to listen to them, she refused to stop unless you or Sam made her stop, and as worried about Tara as they were, they didn’t exactly want to go to parties to babysit her. You wouldn't stop her from having fun or drinking until she reached a very specific point between drunk and no longer aware of what was happening.

You hated just watching over her, but you tried to step in sooner exactly one time before she got drunk. The next time there was a party Tara went and disappeared again, so you just figured it was better to stay by her side and make sure she was fine than to drive around the whole damn city looking for her.

"I don't know how to reach her, Sam," you confessed, the mental toll of watching Tara cope in one of the worst ways possible was slowly getting to you. You'd do anything to get her to stop drinking like that, but she just wouldn't listen to you. "Should I just drive straight to that party?"

Sam thought it over. "Let's check if she's home first."

You both knew it was extremely unlikely, but you still hoped.

You hoped even as Sam unlocked the apartment, but you couldn't hope once it was clear Tara wasn't there. You leaned against the wall, completely awake now. "She didn't even bring her taser," you pointed out, huffing as you began pacing the apartment. You knew you should already be heading out to find Tara, but you just needed a moment.

"I'll go get her, rest for a bit," you wanted to argue when Sam said that, but honestly, you just felt relief. "I'll call you if she's not at that party."

"Thanks," you just let her, not sure how drunk Tara would be, or if you were ready for another hunt all over New York, so if you could delay it even for ten or fifteen minutes, you'd accept that opportunity. You sat down on the sofa as Sam left the apartment.

"How the fuck am I supposed to help you, Tara?" you leaned back against the sofa, letting your eyes close just for a moment.

~X~

She was annoyed, not nearly as drunk as she would have liked and the party was running out of alcohol. You were working, and you were covering Thomas’ classes as well, so you were exhausted. Tara understood that, hell, she was thankful that your job functioned the way it did, because you normally had plenty of free time. And you had every other weekend off, seeing as you’d work one weekend, and Thomas would take the other. You had enough time to study, attend most of the classes and still had time for her.

If she wasn’t drunk, she’d admit she overreacted this morning, that as strong as you were you weren’t superhuman and that all the exhaustion just caught up with you last night. That it wasn’t what you wanted, but you just couldn’t fight it, and she knew what kind of effect she had on you, she knew you got really comfortable when she was on top of you.

She’d apologize tomorrow, because she knew you’d get worried if you come home and see she wasn’t there. She still had at least half an hour left until Sam was done with her therapy, and if she was lucky the two of you would take your time coming home, which would let her go back home and pretend she was asleep, so maybe she could avoid making you worry. Neither you nor Sam would know she was at a party, and everything would be just fine.

She had enough time to find a few more drinks, so when a guy that clearly wanted to fuck her offered her drinks, she figured she could just grab the drinks and go back to Mindy and Anika. She’d get drinks, he’d get disappointed, but she wouldn’t have to deal with him too much. At least that was her drunken reasoning.

~X~

When your eyes opened again it was because of your phone ringing. "Did you find her?" you answered without quite looking at who was calling you, it had to be Sam, and you immediately got up, ready to get the car keys if Sam didn't find Tara.

"I did. She's pissed though, she should be at the apartment in a minute or two," Sam warned you.

"She's pissed? Brilliant! Just perfect!" you hung up just as you yanked the doors open and saw Tara climbing up the stairs. You noticed they were all dressed like they went to some costume party, which, given it was Halloween wasn’t much of a surprise. Tara looked like she was dressed up as a pirate.

"Don't you even start!" she yelled the moment she saw your mouth opening.

You felt really close to snapping as you stepped outside the apartment to meet Tara. "Oh, I'm sorry, did your party get interrupted?"

You could see she was going to walk by you and get inside, but the mocking in your tone made her halt right next to you. "It did! And you know what? I was about to hook up with a guy!" if you were any less tired, any more attentive to the way her eyes immediately filled with regret when she said that, then maybe you would have been able to control your temper.

Not tonight though. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time you were with someone while loving me, now, would it?!" a low blow, reminding Tara of her relationship with Amber, but you were reaching your limit.

Tara recoiled as if you slapped her. "Do not bring Amber into this, Y/N!"

“Then do not make me worry and say you were going to cheat!” you fired right back, by this point you were exhausted by Tara’s behavior, by her need to go to the parties and get blackout drunk.

"Hey, come on, this isn't like you," Chad tried to get between you two.

"Stay out of this," you warned, but Tara was already heading inside.

"No need! We're done talking!" she yelled while marching to your room.

"Oh, no, not this time, Tara!" you went after her, catching the doors just as she was about to slam them shut. She didn’t even try to close them, even as angry as she was she just scoffed at you and let you come in after her.

She turned to you the moment you closed the doors. "What do you want, Y/N?! I'm living my life, you hear me?! it's mine, not ours!" she screamed, pushing her finger into your chest. She took a step back, puling the headband she had on off and tossing it aside, she just began changing out of her costume, her breathing getting faster as she pointed at you again. "You're possessive, you won't let me go to any party alone; you've become even more controlling than Amber!"

You threw your hands up in the air, just for a moment looking anywhere but at Tara. "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you had an ounce of self-control! Or do I need to remind you how I found you the two times you were at a party on your own?!"

"What of it? I ended up in a bad place twice, and? Surely, I've run out of all the awful things that can happen to me by now!" she was having difficulty breathing and the red haze that had overcome you faded away, the telltale signs of her needing her inhaler made you set your anger aside for now.

"And if you haven't? If someone takes advantage of how drunk you are?" you stopped shouting, even though some of the anger was still there.

Tara just shrugged, her breathing uneven as she clearly began struggling, but refused to use her inhaler, not that it would help her right now. "Add it to the list, I guess," you stepped away from her and went outside the room. "Y/N!" she gasped your name but didn't come after you, a coughing fit kept her in place.

You weren’t leaving her; you just didn’t get to take the new inhaler out of your bag. Just goes to show how hectic the past week was. You came back to the room to see Tara leaning against the table in your bedroom, her hands trembling slightly. You unpacked the inhaler you got a few days ago and took her hand gently. "Your current one ran out, right?" you pulled her down with you on the bed and brought the inhaler to her mouth. "I can't, Tara, I can't take it if something happens to you again," you could only hope she would finally hear you. Judging by the way she clung to you, gripping your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, a tiny bit of you hoped she would hear you this time.

"You're not angry with me?" she asked, tired of shouting as well, tired of being angry, of not having you around since you started covering Thomas’ part of the training.

You almost told a lie as you smoothed out the few strands of her hair that were out of place now that she took the headband off. "I am, but I'm more worried about you than I'm angry at you," especially when her asthma gets triggered. At that point, any argument can wait, and you guessed those pauses also made both of you calm down.

"I wasn't really going to hook up with anyone. I just wanted, I don't even know what I wanted. To make you angry, or to hurt you, I guess? I regretted it the moment I said it," she confessed, tentatively climbing into your lap for comfort and only relaxing when you wrapped your arms around her waist.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension between you two dissipating with every moment. Tara was drunk, and pissed that Sam just showed up at the party, and something probably happened there as well that caused this much anger, so, given last night, she wanted a payback, and so she said something she knew would make you angry. “We’ll be fine,” you muttered, leaning your head against her shoulder, you weren’t completely fine, but you would be.

"I'm not messed up," she whispered into your ear, and you pulled back to look at her. The desire to continue what she started last night was more than evident in her eyes, but you shook your head.

"No, you are. You are still drunk," you weren't about to do anything with Tara while she was even slightly drunk.

Tara responded with a huff and pulled back from you as much as she could while still sitting on your lap. "Fine, fine," she knew better than to argue with you on that.

A knock on the doors caught your attention and Tara got off your lap so you could go and open the doors.

"Oh, thank God you're not fighting anymore," Anika said as soon as she noticed neither one of you was frowning.

"Told you love birds would be fine," Mindy patted her on the back.

Chad coughed. "More important things people," he reminded the two and you tilted your head to the side. "You need to see this," he pointed toward the TV, and you felt a shiver run down your spine due to the worried look on his face.

You and Tara went into the living room, Tara sat down while you leaned onto the sofa as all of you listened to the news. You couldn't believe the nightmare was starting again. Someone was brutally stabbed and a Ghostface mask was found at the scene of the crime. Even worse than that Mindy recognized the names and from the look on Tara's face so did she.

"You know them?" you asked as you sat down next to her. She immediately reached for your hand, grounding herself before she could start panicking.

"Barely, not that it matters, this isn't about us," you could see the worry in her eyes, the fear that it actually was about all of you.

That's when Sam came in, followed by a guy you came across every now and then. Danny? Tara thought something was going on between Sam and him, but she didn't have proof and you weren't about to ask Sam if she wasn't going to talk.

The moment Sam figured out what was going on it was like someone flipped a switch. "Pack a bag, we leave in ten," you and Tara just looked at each other before Tara jumped to her feet.

"Sam! Wait, Sam!" Tara went after her into the kitchen.

"We're leaving town," Sam ordered, not even for a moment considering Tara's objection.

You walked in, hugging Tara around her waist from behind to calm her down, she just had an asthma attack and you wanted her to feel safe. "Sam, you know running away didn't work last time," sure, you came back to Woodsboro willingly, but Amber and Richie were going to use Chad, Mindy, and Liv as bait anyway.

"It'll work this time," Sam picked up the biggest knife you had and went back to the living room.

Tara got out of your hug but began holding your hand. "Hold on, let's talk for a second. 'Cause this might not have anything to do with us," Tara followed after Sam, pulling you along and trying to reason with her.

"Are you serious?" Sam demanded, finally turning to look at Tara.

"It's a big city! It's Halloween. Everybody's wearing masks! You don't know-"

"Tara! Tara, this isn't a coincidence! You knew him!" Sam interrupted.

"Barely," Tara leaned back into you, prompting you to once again place your arms around her waist.

"Chad, Mindy, back me up," Sam turned to the twins, purposely not looking at you for support.

"I mean it is a bit..." the expression on Chad's face showed he agreed with Sam.

"Too close to home," Mindy basically finished for him.

"Sam, we finally got our lives together here," you took Tara’s side, yes there were issues, yes, Tara wasn't handling things properly, but you were building something here.

"We'll do that again, somewhere safer," Sam assured you, not even wasting a second to push back against any arguments in favor of staying.

"So, you're just making the unilateral decision to abandon my and Y/N's college education and flee the fucking state!" Tara clenched her fingers around your hands. The weaker grip in her left hand nearly made you reconsider.

"Y/N," Sam turned to you, looking for support. "Please don't take Tara's side just because it's Tara."

You shook your head. "Sam, I'm not going to run every time there's a hint of danger. If we do that we'll always be on the run, I won't live like that and if Tara doesn't want that-"

"Which I don't," Tara quickly chimed in.

"Then I won't let you force her to live like that," you could feel Tara's anxiety rising as Sam remained silent. It felt a lot like back when you decided you’d take Tara to Sacramento, and you and Sam briefly went back and forth on where to go and if Richie should go with you. Tara didn’t want to choose between you and Sam, she didn’t want to see you two arguing, and you didn’t want that either, but Sam needed to know she couldn’t make this decision for Tara. No one but Tara could make it.

And then the phone rang, and Tara nearly jumped in your arms. She wasn't the only one affected, everyone was put on edge by Sam's phone ringing.

Sam went over to the phone and rejected the call. "It was Gale," she said, which wasn't a good sign. Especially since Gale's book didn't exactly make any of you the fans of the reporter.

"Why did everyone freak out when her phone rang?" you almost forgot Ethan was there.

"You gotta keep up, my dude," Anika just told him.

Sam's phone rang again, this time from an unknown caller, and though anxiously she still picked up. "Yes?"

There was a pause for a few moments. "Yes, it's me," Sam replied to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Okay, okay, I'll come," she hung up. "It's the police, they want me to come down to the station," she didn't waste a moment and picked her jacket up to leave.

Tara just looked at you. There was no need to talk, you grabbed your jackets and you turned to Chad. "You guys be careful," you went after Tara, grabbing the keys on the way. You considered driving, but the police station wasn't that far, and it was late, it was Halloween and people were partying, so maybe walking was a better option. Not to mention you were still tired, and maybe you didn’t have it in you to drive to the station and back as you were.

You caught up with Tara at the bottom of the stairs and she gave you a quick, though a bit uncertain, smile. "We'll be fine, Love," you quickly leaned down to kiss the top of her head and then she led you outside, after Sam.

"Sam, slow down," Tara called after her sister.

"Tara, no, get back inside, lock the doors," Sam immediately rejected the idea of Tara coming with her.

"Are you serious? Now you don't want to stick together? Besides, I have Y/N," and both you and Sam knew Tara would feel better if you were there for both her and Sam.

"You heard the boss, Sam, don't fight this," you offered Sam a cheeky smile and she just shook her head.

"Fine, let's go," she gave in and motioned you and Tara to follow her.

~X~

You were about ten minutes away from the station when Sam's phone rang again, and you saw that the caller was... Richie?

"The fuck?" Tara said exactly what you thought.

"I never deleted his contact," you raised an eyebrow at that. Really, Sam? "This is coming from his number."

"Don't pick that up," Tara told her, but you were already tuning the conversation out, instead looking around the three of you.

Whoever was behind this now couldn't appear out of nowhere. You couldn't see anything suspicious behind you, but you felt Tara quickly grabbing onto your forearm. You turned around and saw a man approaching, holding a phone, so you stepped in front of Tara and Sam, ready to act the moment he made any move.

There was no need for that, the man just walked by the three of you.

The police sirens put you on edge as you made sure Tara was close to you.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet, asshole," just as Sam said it you noticed a movement to your right.

And there it was. The familiar robe and mask coming almost out of nowhere, hidden by the darkness of the night and shadows. You pushed Tara toward Sam and stepped between the two and the reoccurring nightmare. You did a quick jab followed by a hook, sending the figure into the bicycles behind him.

Something felt wrong. He fell too easily. As if he decided to fall. "Run!" you ushered Tara and Sam, not that you needed to as Sam was already getting Tara away from the could-have-been fight.

You turned back when you caught up to them, to see the Ghostface chasing after you.

"Y/N?!" you saw fear in Tara's eyes, the confusion caused by you of all people running.

"Something's different! I don't know what, but it just feels wrong!" you liked to think years of fighting gave you a good sense of what someone can and can't do in a fight and you didn't like one bit what happened right there.

Your words only increased Tara's fear. "Help! Please!" She cried out, hoping maybe someone would hear her.

"In there!" Sam pointed at a bodega just around the corner.

The three of you ran in, with Tara and Sam cutting the line and pleading for the clerk to call the police. You just stood with your back turned to them, waiting for Ghostface. You saw him at the door, looking much bigger than you. Tara, probably still thinking about what you just told her, grabbed onto your forearm, and tried to pull you back. "Please, Y/N," you glanced back, seeing the fear in her eyes. That one moment was enough for everything to go wrong. Ghostface quickly killed two men, tossing them aside and advancing toward the three of you.

"Sam! Don't!" judging by Tara's screams you figured Sam was pulling her back.

You relaxed, easily shifting into a fighting stance. As wrong as it felt, you knew there wasn't a way out without a fight. Besides, if you could end this now, you'd have only one more Ghostface to worry about.

"Hey!" the man working at the bodega shouted and raised a shotgun, firing it at Ghostface. As the Ghostface vanished behind the shelves you couldn't help but wonder why the man didn't just shoot first. You know, without warning the clearly armed and dangerous masked individual?

"Go out the back!" he told the three of you.

Well, you weren't about to waste that.

"Thank you!" Tara said, but as the three of you got to the back doors you realized it was locked. "Shit! Keys! We need your keys!"

The man turned to give them to her and Ghostface took his chance. Stabbing the man and taking the shotgun, shooting the man that tried to help you.

The three of you ducked behind shelves and you glanced at Tara. You've fought Ghostface before. You were afraid before. But back then you were afraid for Tara. Now you were afraid of the killer. There was nothing you could do against a shotgun. There was no way you could get shot and survive, let alone continue fighting. There was no way Tara or Sam would survive and just for a moment, between fight, flight, or freeze, your body chose to freeze.

Ghostface shot the freezers behind you, shattering the glass. Sam began moving again, trying to crawl to safety, trying desperately to keep Tara alive. Tara, however, wouldn't move an inch without you.

Another shot knocked a bunch of cans down, halting your escape and making Tara squeeze your hand. That snapped you out of it and you pulled the two of them back toward freezers. From the looks of it, you did that just in time as Ghostface came to the side you were on mere moments ago. You looked at Tara as she silently cried and moved, staying crouched as you moved toward Ghostface. You'd go around the shelves and try to take him down from behind.

Your heart hammered in your chest when you turned around the corner and saw a shotgun right in front of your face. You weren't fast enough to get it out of the way, no, you were allowed to grab it and lift it up. "Run!" the last time you screamed as loud as you just did Amber was holding Tara at gunpoint.

"Y/N!" Tara screamed your name, but you didn't look at her, you looked at Sam.

"Take Tara and run, damn it!" you yelled, pushing the shotgun up to make sure Ghostface couldn't shoot any of you. You couldn't focus on anything else, not on the screaming or Sam's frantic attempts to get Tara out of bodega, you could only focus on the fight. You felt a small sense of relief, knowing that as long as you kept holding the shotgun Ghostface wouldn't be able to let go of it either.

The moment you vaguely heard the doors opening you yanked the shotgun down and kneed the man in his stomach. There wasn't even a grunt, but he tossed the shotgun away so that neither of you could use it. You let him, using the small opening to land an uppercut to the jaw, followed by several hard and fast punches to the face. You pushed him into the counter, continuing the assault. It felt wrong. It felt like your punches barely affected him. He was moving, reacting to your punches, but it was too much, it was as if he was moving on his own, and not due to your hits.

A hard hit to the side knocked all the air from your lungs and he easily pushed you back. He slammed his shoulder into you, taking you to the ground. You gasped for air, barely having time to put up a guard before a fist could connect with your face. You recognized this feeling all too well. You were in this exact position plenty of times. You raised your elbow, hitting his jaw and getting up just enough to put him in a chokehold.

Another hit to the side nearly made you let him go, but you squeezed harder, trying to find a way to snap his neck despite the mask. The third hit to the side loosened your hold enough for him to get on his feet and slam you back down on the ground. You felt like everything was spinning as he repeated the same motion again. Lifting your entire body up and slamming it back down on the hard floor. By now you were too shaken to even hold onto him, your body was limp in his hold, and you knew there was nothing you could do unless you had at least a bit of time to recover from the impacts.

And then you went flying, right through the glass and onto the pavement. You skidded across the pavement, unable to stop until your back hit the fire hydrant and you gasped as the impact knocked what little air you still had in your lungs out.

"Y/N!" that was Tara's voice. Shit. She didn't get far enough.

"Run, you idiot," you wheezed as you rolled over, trying to get on your hands and knees. You watched as Ghostface stood there, but he wasn’t approaching you. He didn’t need to, you were still at his mercy.

The police arriving saved your life.

Tara was immediately with you, yet you barely heard her saying your name, you barely felt her worried touch. A single thought went through your mind as the police officers scattered around the perimeter and all you could see was a mask on the store's floor. 'I can't beat him.'

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[teenietinytangerine]

-.

THE HELLMOUTH'S TEETH;

main pairing: oc x yoongi

oc/reader: Saein, a Slayer from Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe, years after the end of the show. casted in my head as Go Minsi. yoongi: a Gumiho, the Fox, whose particularity is to feed through people's fear and pleasure.

genre: smut, fantasy.

word count: 11k (how? i swear this is pure smut.)

note: finally done and put together! this is soooo self-serving, i'm so sorry, lots of teasing and they are so horny.

summary:

The prophecies. The legends. Hwachang, a misty city in the south of Seoul was sitting prettily on top of an Hellmouth - a fissure between realities known to ooze demons, attract local bloodsuckers, kooky wizards and the occasional mummy, but nothing to worry! For the Slayer (or one of anyway) had made it her home and kept the lid on the infernal soup. Somewhat. As best as she could while juggling her two part-times and a gig in a rockband. But  stake a vampire's heart above all! Or fix a Gumiho issue. A sneaky nine-tailed fox, that a sunny-smiled client had brought to her door, and with payment for a change! But things get out of control, and next thing the Slayer knew, she had volunteered to be the Fox's source of food. Thankfully, it wasn't too unpleasant.

preview:

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe if it hadn't been after the bath, maybe if it hadn't been after that kiss, maybe if, tonight especially, she didn't need the escapism like a drug, then maybe only it would have been easier to refuse his attentions and focus on her promise to make that Fox relinquinsh control and succomb to his own pleasure. His breath alone was making her delicate skin quiver, her back bent towards his marble-fleshed torso, so immersed in the hymn of their frenzy, that, one by one, her senses shivered and marvelled. Dangerous.

PART I. LUST AT FIRST SIGHT.

chapter 1. The Proposition.

“What did you say?” 

Yoongi asked, his voice cracking under the surprise, and his usually mythical face breaking into an expression of utter disbelief. Saein remained unphased to the Gumiho suddenly looking like an old man in need of his reading glasses, and reiterated:   

“I said I’ll feed you.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“I did my research. I know.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, not unamused. In front of him, there she stood, the Slayer, the night's spawns nightmare in tight leather and high ponytail. One he ever only heard tales of, until a week ago when she barged into the nice little haunted house he had made for himself and ruined it. Not only the traps were all reduced to shreds, but the furniture and the wallpaper were impossible to save, it was going to cost him the guy who apparently actually owned the house a fortune to replace. Oh, and she beat the living crap out of him.

And now, there she was.

“Why would you do that?”

“You are such a picky eater!"

“I’m just being careful with spicy food. Especially ones who leave me with souvenirs.”

The Gumiho pulled down his collar to expose the scar she had left above his collarbone, still red and painful even to only look at.

Now would be a good time to precise how worned-out Yoongi looked. The dark high-end and tailored modern hanbok he was wearing only highlighted how sickly pale his skin had turned, and his posture was betraying the pain his body was silently putting him through. It wasn't about the wounds, or the bruising, or the beat down that refused to heal as it usually would have in a matter of minutes. It was the hunger.

Saein sighed and grimaced. “You told me it was my fault you were homeless, my fault if you were gonna starve without all your booby traps, and goat heads falling from the ceilling-

"Chicken heads."

"Chicken heads falling from the ceilling, and I just, I thought about it. Now, let me say, I don't agree that it was wrong of me to save those poor people from being Beetlejuiced to near-death and their fear being ingested by a literal hell being, but... I checked, and you didn't kill anyone, and I guess you're right, you can't help how you feed, so...”

“So? You’re going to…”

“Not let you starve.”

This time, the Fox busted out in an incredulous laughter. The girl was messing with him, showing up with all five feet of snark at his door and empty promises in a leather trench coat.

He bent over, squinting. "Really? Want me to scare you, little Slayer?”

"No... Not the diet I had in mind."

"That's what I- uh?"

"You know..."

Her eyes did the talking.  

"Oh,

He blinked,

Oh."

She never lacked confidence, Saein, but this was a bold move even for her. Paying for the impulsivity of her desires, her hair still messy from the run and shoes muddied by the path. All she knew was that she needed an escape. Needed to scratch an itch.

So there she walked in, in the lair of what she fought yesterday, succombing to a pull she should not have felt when they were dusting the walls with each other's bodies, and standing on the threshold of the theaters of horrors, too at-ease in its throes to shiver at the sight anymore. 

Thankfully, every doubt she may have had were obscured by the sheer strength of her stubbornness. So much so that, when the Gumiho approached at an excruciatingly slow pace, honoring the feline in him, all he could read on her pretty, provocative face was her dare to take her at her word. (Or, you know, take her.)

For a second, even silence was held in the air as they stared shamelessly at each other. Judging. Gauging.

He looked otherworldly, with a hint of depravity, but she knew that already.

She looked delicious, with a hint of sardonic, but he knew that already.

“Really,” she answered the question he hadn't asked yet but was all over his face. She could swear his pupils enlarged, but yet the doubt remain. How could she convince this demon to bed her already?

Saein grabbed the necklace hanging low from his neck and yanked him closer. She repeated, softer this time, mellow almost, in a whisper that only made sense at this distance.

“Really.”

Her eyes fell naturally on his lips. Beautiful, sharply carved but full, bitable lips... As she imperceptibly leaned, encouraged by his stunned silence, Yoongi suddenly pulled back, using his height to create some distance between them again.

“If you’re not interested-”

“That’s not what- Hm. You are serious.”

“I'm... Curious.”

He lifted an unconvinced eyebrow.

“And you trust me?”

“ … I do, for this. It’s your expertise, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

He smacked his lips, seemingly deep in thoughts into the spiral of his turmoils.

She had a way about her, the Slayer, a tranquil confidence enveloped in fiery defiance. Until this stormy night, he had only seen an annoying force of nature, an improchable champion with the occasional touch of sarcasm and terrible, terrible jokes. But now... Now, she was offering herself up with an unbearable human fragility that was, oh, so tantalizing. 

The sweetest bait that just might be worth the honey it held. And gods, what a lie it would be to say he hadn't wanted to devour her at every heartbeat of hers.

He couldn’t help himself but fall in it. 

It was all instincts, wasn't it? He was an expert at this after all. Who was he to refuse a willing meal when he was this farmished?

His fingers tucked back a strand of her hair behind her ear, and the first skinship came. Through it, the Gumiho could feel what she felt. This much wasn't enough to probe through the tempest of feelings he found, but just enough of an hint to get the hint. 

She wasn’t lying. There was no trap, none intentional anyway. She just... She just wanted this. All he could pick up clearly above the surface was her anticipation, and lust. And yes, lust, he knew how to deal with.

His thumb fluttered along her jaw all the way right below her lips.

Saein, as if hypnotized, forgot her breath held in suspension, as he brought her slowly to the border of him.

"Still sure?" He inquired.

His voice had changed. The traces of the wounded, unsure man had been replaced by the glory of the Gumiho, confident and at ease in his domain. Still, he wanted to give her one last chance to slip away if she wished.

 But she didn't.

"Still."

Her stare fell down on the curves of his own parted mouth, deliberately, making her intentions plain, leaning in to let their breathings tangled. So slowly that every second became deliciously agonizing, she was guiding her face towards his. Their noses grazed and...

“Not like this.” A grin stretched on his lips. “I’ve got a ritual of sorts.”

chapter 2. The Bath.

When Yoongi came out of the room he had disappeared to, he turned back to where he had left her, half expecting to see her gone. Instead, the Slayer was removing her leather coat, revealing the white tanktop underneath, and set it carefully on a chair. She must have heard him because her head suddenly turned to him.

"Everything okay?"  

He nodded. She walked towards him, throwing him a then-what-are-we-waiting-for look and passed him inside.

He had led them into the bathroom, but it wasn't any bathroom.

The sun in its dying hours was coating the wood and dark stones. The bath, as its center piece, encased in the ground, was in the form of a lotus flower and surrounded by a plethora of plants, growing their roots and leaves in-between vials and candles. It was as if stepping into a japanese bathhouse.  

Out of nowhere, water began flowing and the steam spiraled up in the air, drawing strokes in the beams of orange light. With another flick of the wrist, the wooden curtains gently fell. The candles, as well as firefly-like lights appearing out of thin air and began faintly floating, brightening the room in a million stars.

"That's your ritual? A bath?"

  She only realised he was behind her when his hands adventured on her hips as he was leading her playfully ahead.

"You spend your nights chasing cadavres in cemeteries, can you blame me?" He said, leaning in on the crook of her neck. His index slipped under the band of her tanktop, on her bare skin, creating unanticipated tickles. Damn it, she could not lose it this early.  

"Alright now, that's part of the whole schtick, it doesn't mean I'm not familiar with soap-" Her protestation and poor attempt at clinging onto her fake offense, was blown out like a candle flame as he placed a chaste kiss below her ear.

"Shh..."

Saein became overly aware of the sound of her own heartbeat.

The temperature and humidity of the room had climbed too high already to remain comfortable in there, at least not fully clothed. He pulled her closer. His fingers had only grown more explorative under her shirt, but yet kept their composure in that they seemed to only graze her skin out of curiosity, trailing paths of pins and needles. As her head started slowly spinning, she leaned her weight back into him.

"...So hot, in there."

Saein gestured towards removing her top, avid to dive in the dance but he held her in place.

"Don't. Let me." His voice had changed, deeper, authoritative, as if the mask of the Man was fissuring, and something else was piercing through.

The Fox, still behind her, removed the piece of coton out of her, leaving her bra as the sole protector of her bust. Was she taking it too far? Should she run? But those damn fingers, tracing thoughtless patterns on her neck, her shoulders, her back, while she was biting her lip down, were impossible to deny.

Fighting every instinct to stay put, she let him play with her, ravaging her with the most innocuous motions while every fiber of her being were screaming for permission to pin him on the floor and turn this slow dance into a savage debauchery. But he wouldn't let her, and she knew why. There was a savour in that leisure.

A silent sigh escaped her when he suddenly undid her denim button and the baggy jeans dropped to her ankles. She felt him so close behind her but he was careful to never let his body brush her more than a few seconds, here and there, only in the most benign parts of her.

Gently, but expertly, he stripped every single piece of clothing off of her, the necklace first, her bra disappeared with another kiss on her shoulder, and her panties just slidding down. During which, he always prevented her to speed up the process by assisting in any kind of way, or even turning around to face him despite her attempts that he only shut down with whispers.

"Trust me, just with this." And somehow, she did.

Being starked naked did not seem to bother the Slayer. It did felt only natural in this place, in his hands. The volutes of steam were her clothes.

Yoongi only left her back to grab her hand and lead her inside the bath.

By the time she sank in, Saein was losing the thread of her thoughts in the sensitive mess he had made of her skin. The velvet of the warm water over her millions of pins and needles felt like a welcomed healing balm, and she released a pleased sigh.

In her bubbles, she was drifing as if in a cozy hug while he stood dry and fully dressed, sitting himself down by the edge of the bath, a smile floating on his lips, absorbed in his view. Still now, some part of him was expecting her to stand up in a furry, throw a punch at him and leave. But there she was, the mighty Slayer, her eyes coated with a hazy nitescence, her jet hair swaying in the wake of the waves and petals, and the most delighted expression painting her visage.

Beautiful.

"How are you feeling?"

She breathed in and stretched.

"Hm, warm, good." She seemed to suddenly remember his existence as she turned to him. A sly smile and the mischievous siren slid in the water to his side.

She pulled on his sleeve. "Come."

With care, he removed her grasp and, instead, turned her easily  in an embrace and brought her closer to him, keeping her back against the edge of the bath and therefore removing himself from her vision while invading once again her space, his nose straying by her ear.

"No, thank you. I like the view better from here."

Out of thin air, Yoongi pulled a sponge already foaming and began bathing her, washing properly her arms, her feet, her thighs; brushing innocently over her chest, hovering prudishly between her legs... When she strayed too far ahead in the water, the Gumiho had to bend over to bring her back with a firm pull.

"Come back here", he murmured to her ear and the sensation of his breath sent a pulse in her belly.

"Stop teasing me." She nearly moaned.

She could hear him hold back a chuckle.

"Already?"

He was worse than a cat with a mouse, and the anticipation was now killing her.

"Alright, then." He took a nibble at her earlobe while his hand abandoned the sponge to travel with purpose to her breasts.

Saein muffled a gasp when she felt the light touch turn into an intentional, powerful hold onto her bosom, contrasted by a sly thumb greating her nipple, waking it up, soon joined by his forefinger to puck her bud.

Yoongi readjusted himself to be able to see the way his palm cupped under her flesh, how her nipples reacted to his touch and how her breathing grew deeper and deeper. His digits was exploring her sensitivities, circling with precision and mirroring on the other, wondering how they would feel between his teeth... Hm, focus!

Every tremor of hers was improving his aim and soon she came to regret the time he teased her for now all his attentions seemed to be finding the most sensible inches of her. Through his fingertips, the nine-tailed fox could sense the wave of pleasure rising in her, the slow churning he was spurring, and only when it reached the tide he craved for, one of his hand slipped all the way down to the warmth of her intimacy.  

The moment his fingers brushed against her clitoris, a surge sent electricity in her entire body. He had built a craving the moment he had refused her that kiss that was just starting to be fulfilled. Saein held back a moan as he began exploring, gingerly fondling her button at the rhythm of her twitches, stroking her piano keys and figuring out her harmony. It's only when she dropped her head back on his shoulder with a contained groan that he noticed something was off.

He froze, ceasing coldly all his attentions despite the verbal protest she opposed him, leaving her oh so lonely, and frowned.

"Are you holding back your voice?"

"Uh? Why would I..."

He scoffed.

"You are!" The Gumiho couldn't tell if he was outraged or amused.

"I thought you wanted to feed me, what kind of lukewarm meal is that?"

 This was her first chance to properly breathe among the steam that was now completely enveloping them.

"Maybe, I'm just not the loud type" Shameless, the huntress that had made herself a willing prey wouldn't even turn her head to see the disapproving face of a man that was not buying any of that bullshit.

"Oh, really?"

Thank goodness she could not see the glint that had lit up in his eyes. Without warning, his fingers took back hold of what they had abandoned and, neglecting the gentleness they had showed previously, threw her back into such a tidal wave that nearly defeated her right here and there.

The moment she showed signs of reaching aphrodisia, he pulled her up, slightly, with his arm around her waist, while his thumb took over for his finger to fray itself a path through her intimity, welcoming him by squizzing around his digit at every millimeters acquired.

A long, loud and clear moan escaped her lips and fell with the taste of candy into his ears. That little bastard.

But he doesn't gloat further. He knows he opened the floods he meant to open and Saein showed no signs, despite her annoyance, to close them again, getting louder and louder as his fingers slipped deeper and deeper, with an expert cadence and making her forget why she ever felt embarrassed, or even where she was.

The tsunami announcing in her was now reflected in her unrest body making their own, actual, waves in that bath of his, kicking unintentionally. She reached for the edge of the bathtub for support but instead found the back of his arm. Getting the silent message, with a kiss in the nook of her neck, he kept her pinned against the tub, one hand on her stomach while the other was bringing her closer and closer to frenzy.

The fox knew, at her expense, when to slow down to only push her further, higher, torturing her by teasing a release that he removed immediately by changing the rhythm and scaring her with the desperation for it she was reaching.

The faster her heart was beating, the closer the ebullition was heating up in her, the more energy was pulsing from her to him, clouding his judgment and restraint. His kiss on her neck turned into frenzied licks, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin, loosing himself in the sheer power of her arousal feeding him. Literally. His strength was coming back, his wounds were healing, but the Gumiho had not realised it yet, nor was it in anyway on his mind, for at this instant, he was completely drunk on her.

Another va-et-viens, a crooked pressure at a nook he had noticed made her particularly tingle and -

"Fuck, fuck!"

Her toes curled. Every fiber of her being tensed as the pleasure flooded in and out of her. Yoongi barely slowed down for a minute, letting them both ride it, only focusing on not letting her drag him with her, until he felt her hand try to push his away. He held on.

"Not yet. More." He groaned, that bass in his voice more guttural than ever.

His movements picked up and the Slayer that wasn't even properly done riding her first orgasm, nearly squeaked as the second came on the horizon.

"What?" The word, though singular, struggled to come out from her already busy vocal chords, in between her pantings and puffings. Her being was intoxicated, still high in that nine cloud, and every nerve exposed. He could not be serious. 

"You can go higher."

His velvety tone did not align with the manner in which he took back hold on her clitoris with his thumb while the rest of his long and articulate fingers were arching in her without mercy, using every bit of knowledge they had gained. His increasing scorch breath tickling her lobe, his expertise on her loins, Saein could only recognize that he was right, she could get higher.  

She was kicking the water and cursed his name in unspeakable languages, when, suddenly her sensual frame calmed in the waters and eyes rolled back. It came as if she was falling in the void, but was caught again, and was floating in an ether made of ecstasy. An ecstasy that the Fox was slurping on like a fine tantalizing wine, impervious to how dangerously drunk on it he was getting. He guided her through it, driving her through the surges almost religiously, their hearts beating at the same cadence, his forehead resting on the back of her head, until, little by little, they became ripples.

Then only, he withdrew.

Yoongi let go of her feverish body he was holding up until now... Only to immediately catch her again when he noticed the doll with broken strings was slipping down too fast and too low in the waters. He snapped back to reality.

"Oi, careful there."

The siren, in the end, was only human. Her eyes, confused, drained but coated in delirious bliss, rolled back to meet his. Saein, not quite back from that dimension she just visited, smiled faintly through her euphoria.

"... Damn...", the monster whispered.

He sat her back up in the bath, more securely. After making sure she was holding up on her own, he let go to lean back on the edge. His chin in his palm, Yoongi watched her come back to earth, fascinated. If he had been more honest, he might have admitted she wasn't the only one that needed to clear her head and settle down. However, because the fox's nature is to deceive, he put his light-headedness and aroused senses on the account of not having this kind of meal in quite some time. He was just out of practice.

Saein was observing him too, in a haze, through the steam. Everything was quieter, a welcomed silence only bothered by their breathing and the water splashing.

She had floated to a nearby corner, still close to him but far enough she could look at him properly. He hadn't let her sneak a peek of his face while he was playing with her. Now, there he was, almost glowing in the candlelight, a look of pure satisfaction on his fine lines.

Her gaze took the time she never had to feast on his smooth though a bit damp skin, the sharp shape of his eyebrows, his long dark eyelashes, the round curve of his nose only to fall, without fail on his lips. His full, enticing, slightly apart lips.

Two fruits ready for reaping, fruits that he had denied her before, only to tease them on her neck, made only redder and gorged.

It happened as if in a dream.

She didn't realize she had been moving, nor did he understand her intentions until, with barely a touch, with the softest of collision, her lips locked themselves with his.

His eyes widened as hers close shut.

She kissed him as she would take the first bite for the very first taste of a summer peach. It was a slow kiss, a tender kiss. She kissed him and it felt like the silkiest caress, and yet it sent volts through every fiber of his.

Impervious, a tender smile of hers broke it.

"That was nice."  

Taken aback, the Fox blinked.

He would have stayed there, frozen, if in her attempt to return to her previous position, she hadn't slipped down and nearly drowned again before he caught back her arm (and his senses). He pulled her drained body out of the bath. She had passed out. Maybe he went a bit too far.

"Alright, time for a nap."

With a swift movement, and a surnatural strength restored thanks to her, Yoongi got her up into his arms, grabbing a towel he snuggled her into, and carried her out, to the bedroom.

.cookie.

Yoongi sat her on the mattress, handing her an old tee-shirt, as she mumbled, still half in a dream's state.

"I'm not sleepy."

"Your eyes are currently closed."

Crunching her nose to grimace the offense-taken, she then proceeded to open, with terrible difficulty, her betrayer of eyes. She managed to see the blurry silhouette of him in-between her slow blinks, and the white tee on her laps. She slipped it on.

As he was about to leave, she called for him.

"How about you?"

"What about me?"

Saein, in a torpor state, reached for the rim of his pants before he could slipped away.

"Don't you want me to take care of you?"

The cocky smile he drew on his face was not quite as confident as he thought it was, still rattled by the k-, by earlier. He gently removed her hand and leaned to grab her shoulders and lay her down on the bed.

"It's your pleasure that feeds me, not mine. So... I need you rested, and comfortable, and happy. Sleep, I'm begging you."

The Slayer could not deny the exhaustion that had taken over her, not when she could scarcely get back up on her own, and her will faded away when she felt the softness of the comforter. Still, she grabbed his shirt before he could back away.

"But it still feels good, right?"

This time, he laughed. "I guess it's not too bad."

Now, her smile, that was a cocky smile.

With no warning, she pulled him, and he was suddenly forced to remember who he was dealing with and her strength as he nearly smashed into her if he hadn't caught himself with an elbow, inches away from her face.

Yoongi gulped, and stared at her temple, desperatly not looking at anything else (which is ironic if you ask me, considering he was seen every naked contour of her not but ten minutes ago, but don't tell the fox).

Saein, on the other hand, seemed to crave the proximity.

"I'll sleep, if you sleep."

"I don't-" But every protestation died in his throat for she was already rolling on the side, at his relief, but not without taking his right arm with her, forcing him into an embrace. She hugged his hand against her chest like a child with a toy, finally letting herself sink into a pillow and in rest. 

I guess i could use a nap. Giving up, (without too much of a fight if I do say so myself)  the Gumiho made himself comfortable and soon slipped into Morpheus arms, his nose nuzzled into her hair.

chapter 3. In Silky Sheets.

Snuggled against him, and his warmth, his slow breathing.

For the first time in years, the Slayer had dreamt of nothing. Her mind had been preoccupied with rest only. Even as she rose back into consciousness, the scent of serenity accompanied her. Was it the way the dying-sun's light was turning golden through the dancing curtains, or the summer breeze of the evening lulling on her cheeks?

Saein wondered why she was fighting the urge to let the embrace of oblivion wrap her once again, when something chuffled in her back. Ah yes, the Fox. The sneaky little Gumiho she had thrown herself at and yet could not find any regrets for, thus far, was now innocently dozing off behind her.

Her sleepy gaze fell on his curled hand, right above hers, still exactly where she had put it before her nap, forcing the mythical creature to cuddle her from behind. Saein was, without meaning to, noting that hand's every detail: the paths his veins were drawing on his skin, the pinkish color of his knuckles, how long his pianist-like fingers extended despite being now crouched over themselves...

Her mind wandered towards those fingers'... abilities. Past achievements, if you will. Not those, you dirty mind. The way he could sense and absorb emotions, but not any emotion, just pleasure. Fear and pleasure. An empath that could feed, and starve on her euphorias and terrors. Her thoughts seemlessly drifted to what those fingers did to her only a few hours before, how they felt on her body, in her body... The memory alone was enough to bring back the electric warmth.

Nevertheless, it felt like trying to remember a dream that kept escaping her. The more she tried to recount all the details, the more she grew restless. More aware of his proximity, right next to her, still seeming too far. She couldn't help keep staring at those fingers, so close to her own hand, so easily reachable, and yet both remaining motionless.  

Suddenly, it occurred to her.

Once again, somehow, she had her back to him. She wanted to see his face.

Suddenly hyperaware of every movement she made, and every sound rising, Saein carefully rolled herself over, but the change of position slipped his unconscious hand to her waist. Damnit. Nevermind, her goal was reached.

Now, facing each other, she could see him. Half his face snuggled into a pillow, the Fox looked peaceful. Innocent, even. Incredibly human, not a single feature betraying his nature. His raven hair were falling across his eyelids, moving with the breeze.

 "You're..."  Gorgeous. It was stupid how gorgeous he was. It would be pointless trying to explain the harmony of his features, he might as well have been sculpted by the fabric of the universe itself.  

"Hm?"

His cave-like grumbling voice stopped her cold in her tracks, realizing she had leaned mere inches away from him. 

The Gumiho's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, they were both frozen. Then, Saein tilted her head and innocently echoed him.

"Hm?"

The Gumiho's eyes fluttered open.

"What are you do-"

He murmured, barely woken up, and unable to process the situation. He was only aware of her face closing the distance on his. He recognized the same look she had given him earlier, in the bath, right before she...

 If only she knew how he was looking back at her, completely puzzled and adoring with defeat the confusion she was putting him through, but her attention was entirely on her own realization of his absolute sinful beauty she was gorging herself in.

Without a thought in her head, Saein swallowed the last distance between them and sealed their lips in a mellow kiss. This time, the fox was not as taken aback as he was before. Almost instinctively, he reciprocated, but the kiss was only buttefly and flew away before he could think of his actions. Or succomb to them.

"You've got to stop doing that", he mumbled behind his breathe. They were close enough to hear any whisper from each other.

"Why?"

Why?  Why? This was not how things usually go. By now, she should be miles away from here, actually she shouldn't even be in his bed. Actually, a Slayer, should not even be in the same city than him. Definitively not offer herself up as a midnight snack. Her scent should not be all over his sheets, and he should not be woken up by the satin touch of her kiss.

She rubbed her nose against his. He stiffened.

"It's not what I usually ..."

"It's not part of the ritual?"

"Something like that." But you're not pushing her off.

Saein shifted but maintained the distance, or lack of, between them, and smacked her lips.

"Hm, you said you feed on my pleasure, so...  Can't you feel it?"

He did.

Every brush against his nose, the slightest touch of her wandering lips hovering right above his, waiting for nothing more than permission. A wildfire of a woman. With every skinship, he felt her, completely, her and the flood of emotions she carried. More than the kiss, it was the eagerness that made him spiral. She was so .. What was she? 

Yoongi chuckled.

"By the hells, what did you dream about to wake up in that state?"

But he couldn't help himself, he couldn't deny that she was stirring up his own hunger that had only been added up since the steam rose at an alarming pace.

As if she could read his defenses melt away, her fingers ventured along his neck and travelled all the way to his jaw.

"I dreamt of a bath" She can't hold back the mischievous smile that carves those lovely dimples on her cheeks, flushed with fever and heavenly heat.

"A good bath?" The gumiho slightly rose up, making sure to never wander an inch away from the distance they had established, their breath mingling together.  

Her smile widened. "It wasn't too bad, I suppose."

Saein's fingers reached the side of his face, and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.

That's all it took.

Yoongi succumbed to the black hole-like attraction. The moment his lips grabbed hers with force, a strange shiver tumbled down the back of his neck, running down his pearly spine and lazily spread over the curve of his loins.

Moving with nothing but the intoxication of the moment, disguising as two lovers held in time, their mouths met with demands and generously. Devouring each other. While her hand dropped along his neck to his chest, his abandonned their reluctance to find their way up her waist.

Saein didn't wait to take over. To his surprise, she suddenly rolled over him and saddled him, squizzing his midriff with her thighs and not letting him enough time to reciprocate before she shut him up back into their activity. Her hands slid along his busy sharp jaw, steering his face to her every whim. She guided the depth of the kiss to the heights of her expectations.

Nearly overcame by the softness of him, she was doing her best to hold back the instinct of ravaging her way through her desire, to savour every nerve electrified, but she couldn't bear it for long before she let both of them melt into the kiss, her eyelids closing fully as the feeling overtook her.

The chaste kiss was far gone. They were inhaling each other, noses colliding, alternating the softness of the lips with the mordant of the teeth, the tongues growing in dare, exploring how far the other would let them go and neither finding the will not to slip further and further into the rushed adrenaline.

When they reached the end of their breath, the lips naturally came to a still, yet still interlocked. Their sighs combined. Held between the seconds, there was like a silent question in suspension, from one body to another. And an answer. From him, especially, right under her seat.

There was a reason the Gumiho did not kiss. Although the mythical creature fed through every touch, his mouth remained the true mean to do so, and therefore, the most sensitive part of him.

She made his head spin, dangerously. He had a hard time focusing enough on her pleasure to consume it without getting distracted by his. He got so dismayed by his own efforts to snap out of it that he didn't notice one of her hand had forsaken his hair to travel down his chest and work on the buttons of his shirt, one by one.

He only noticed after she freed his mouth, even hungrily pursuing her in vain because she was caressing her way down his neck, leaving a trail of kisses on his trembling skin. When she reached his collarbone, all the buttons had come undone, and she could not help but stop to take in the view.

Before moving any way down further, she straighten herself, sitting back on him, squeezing her thighs around his midriff. Yoongi was having a hard time catching his breath, his eyes slightly rolled back, his mouth still hanging open. He looked both ethereal and lost in ether at once. Her gaze followed the trace of her own fingers on the muscles of his wide and defined chest, feasting on the pins and needles she saw appear behind.

"Not bad," she said, bitting her bottom lip.

"Not bad," he repeated.

With the sun coming from behind her, the Slayer looked divine. The Fox beheld her and her messy onyx hair dripping down in a sea on her shoulders, the silhouette of her sculpted waist through the white tee-shirt, and more so tantalizing was her enthranced gaze. Then, of course, there was her naked thighs pressing against his bare torso, and how if she were to move back ever so slightly...

His eyes widened when she proceeded to do just that, but instead of following through on his thoughts, she merely bent back to kiss, with tenderness, his pec. She was putting all her attention on how the muscles of his chest reacted to her touch, tensing up and releasing, caressing the smooth skin before adventuring herself onto the most enticing parts: the brown pinkish nipples.

Her teeth brushed over, then bit above it, before remembering what it felt like, him teasing her the same way before. Her sweet tongue tasted it, envelopped itself on the candy, playing with the other with her digits, exhorting a deep muffled grunt she had never heard out of him.

So, he was feeling it too. 

Her rigor only grew from here, salivating and massaging and feeling him tensed at every couture for it.

Yoongi didn't just lost control, he wasn't sure he could remember the meaning of the word. Admittedly, it had been a while since he had been on the receiving end but by the name of all that is evil, what the fuck.

When he felt her diabolical hand sneak down his belly, following his happy trail, he suddenly pulled himself back up. The Fox let her plummet on the mattress, probably more abruptly than he'd intended, and jumped out of bed on his feet.

With a forced laugh, one hand rubbing his neck, as if he just remembered something that could not wait, he put all his attentions on rebuttoning his shirt back on.

"Ah! I almost forgot! You're human, you gotta be hungry!" Parsed lips, eye contact nowhere to be seen.

Saein was too stunned to speak. Her eyes succinctly fell down below his waist but she did not comment on what she saw and he pretended not to notice.

He continued with a faster pace. "I take care of my guests, I'm not going to make you starve, I'm a demon, not a monster. Wait here."

Before she had the chance to riposte, or comprehend the sudden switch, he was gone in a storm.

chapter 4. I Want To Hear You Moan.

A few minutes later, they were sitting down, criss crossed on the rug, around the tea table of the living room. The night had come down. Saein was slurping on the ramen he had placed in front of her. To her surprise, he was slurping on his as well.

"You can eat?"

"Of course."

"I just assumed... Since..." She gestured vaguely in his direction, pointing at all of him.

The Slayer was used to her bloodsuckers who swore by nothing else but their sanguine juice. Even Taehyung, as sweet as he was, frowned in disgust at their human feast. Truth is, nothing from the Hellmouth had share noodles with her before.

"Well, it doesn't actually keep me alive, but I can still taste it." Yoongi procedeed to further demonstrate and slurped loudly on his noodles, maintaining eye contact. He put down the bowl with a satisfied smirked.

"Oh."

The Fox chuckled, amused by her deadpan answer.

"What? Am I getting a little too normal and human for you, Slayer?"

How dare he even implied she would chicken out after whatever the hell happened in that bedroom. She held his stare and, rising her chin with a sly smile, she answered,

"I think I'm the one who's getting a little too freaky for you."

The word choice made him choke on his ramen.

"What does that mean?"

Saein sighed and put down her cup on the table that seperated them.

"It means, I've got to start patrolling in an hour. Slayer duties, cemeteries, all the usual shabang."

The banter in him find itself extinguished. Yoongi plopped back down against the sofa he was using as backrest. His voice dropped.

"I'm not holding you back, you can go."

"I don't want to go. I have time."

He raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

Saein smacked her lips, seemingly deep in thoughts on how to phrase what weighted on her mind. Suddenly, she scooched closer to him and continued with honey in her tone.

"I want to stay, I do. But. If we're gonna keep going, and I hope we do, I'm gonna need some, hmm, reciprocity."

His eyebrows rose.

"Reciprocity?" He repeated, incredule.

She nodded. "Hm, hm."

"Reciprocity. Reciprocity? I know how to reciprocate, I've been reciprocating! No one has ever complained of my reciprocating skills before."

He could not have been more offended, he was a fantastic lover! Being a great lay was his whole shtick by the thousand hells. He had made her come twice with his fingers alone not even an hour ago, for crying out loud. He had felt how good she felt. There were no doubt she enjoyed their time. None. Right?

"Great, then let's do it. You gave, a lot." Was that a shadow of a blush on her cheeks? But he was hanging too close to every word she said to notice. "Now, it's my turn. I want to hear you moan."

All he could do was hide the shock behind a half-laugh, half scoff.  "Oh you-, you-"

"What? Afraid of losing control, little fox?"

When did she had gotten so close to him? This trickster of a woman was on her knees and toes, hands politely on the floor shifting her weight forward, her cocky expression shining through.

The tease got the exact effect she was hoping for.

She knew she had won the moment a pernicious glint appeared in his outraged yet burning dark stare.

In a flash, he grabbed her doll frame and pulled her effortlessly on his lap. His eyes filled themselves with a new fire.

"Go on then, Slayer, make me."

...

Schblam.

Her back cracked the cabinet in pieces as he slammed her into the wall. She barely felt it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on her butt, her back, her hair, everywhere. His lips on her neck, jaw, mouth.

Closer, he wants her closer.

They were having a hard time finding their way back to the bed now that they were navigating virtually blind, too busy making out, or more accurately devoring each other, to look up where they were in the room, destroying furniture in the blaze of their fury.

Master of this clumsy waltz, Yoongi had their two braided bodies swirling again in the ether, the ocean of her mane unleashed in the air. She weighed nothing in his arms, but once she had an hold to press against, she was pulling him to her with the strength no human had.

The fusion of their scattered silhouettes melded with complicit mischief. Her thighs tightened around him to ensure her hold, while she was gripping the nape of his neck, her slender fingers lacing caresses of delicacy and furor at the fluctuating demands of her storming mind. 

The tempest of their bodies raged.

In the enticing torpor that had lured him since she took off that stupid leather jacket, Yoongi uncovered the dephth at which her favors were bewitching. In a world that had only felt like an arrid strange land since his arrival, with the exception of the occasional ice americano, she felt, in this instant, warm and welcoming in an intoxicating way. Almost primal.

Giving up on the bed, the Gumiho pinned her higher against the wall, to make sure her ass wouldn't fall on the ground, and to be able to free one his hand to cup her face and deepen their endless kiss, slowing it in a decisive pace, guiding it beyond the teasing manners they had kept it at in their hurry, pressing in with a confused-by-how-good-that-felt frown as the flow of her pleasure slowly rose and sizzled and turned into pure blue energy when it slid into his veins.

Saein was drunk on him. It felt like she just took an entire line of vodka shots of pure him in a matter of minutes, and then went to do vaults to make sure it got straight to her head.

He felt everywhere, pressing her up with the mere weight of his body, and he felt good. Too good. The agreement she had extorted out of him, only to be turn into a challenge, it was all a distant memory. But not quite forgotten yet.

As he imperceptibly went for air, the Slayer got a hold of herself just long enough to remember.

And bit viciously his bottom lip.

"Not," he shut her up with another, lighter kiss, unbothered if not further turned on with her antics, "holding up," his tongue teased hers, it was now a game and an adorable way to turn every end of her every word into a moan "your end of," she tried continue faintly but she momentarily lost herself to the temptation, shutting herself up to bring him closer, to feast on the lips he was urging on hers so eagerly at the will of their heavy breathing, until he was the one demanding more.

She could feel his large palm molding part of her ass in a not-so-innocent way. It would be the easiest thing to lose herself in his touch. To let him lead again. If he can play with that tongue like that everywhere...

But she had other appetites.

Reciprocity.

Abruptly, she turned his head to bite on his ear, pulling on his earring with her canines and groaned with menace, "the bargain."

She didn't see his eyes flutter, nor could have guessed the shiver that had stroke him all the way down.

"'Don't know what you mean."

Yoongi escaped her complains by carrying her to a desk, sitting her down on it brutally, sending papers flying and a lamp crashing down, and started to partake on the nook of her neck while his hands adventured all over her hips and teased her breast, innocently sliding a thumb under a boob while holding her, brushing and pressing.

His mouth, on the other hand, was making no secrets and licked and sucked along every line it find on her neck like it was ice cream and he was starving.  

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe if it hadn't been after the bath, maybe if it hadn't been after that kiss, maybe if, tonight especially, she didn't need the escapism like a drug, maybe then only it would have been easier to refuse his attentions and focus on her promise to herself to make that fox relinquinsh control and succombed to his own pleasure.

His breath alone was making her delicate skin quiver, her back bent towards his marble-fleshed torso, so immersed in the hymn of their frenzy, that, one by one, her senses shivered and marvelled.

Dangerous.

Call it ego, or stupidity, Saein find a remnant of will and kicked him off two steps away from her.

Still panting, they stared at each other, two animals basking in the tipping point.

Yoongi worried for a second that he crossed a line. He was looking at her face, trying to figure out where her mind was at but all he found was her checking him out shamelessly, still dripping in lust, and he immediately caught on.

His black hair were as messy as could be, falling in curls above his wandering eyes. His shirt was holding on to a thread and revealed the sculpted torso she had drooled on and, lastly, the bulge in his pants had grown in a much promising way.

The sight made her lips stretch in a sly smile. Saein took a long breath and stretched like a cat, still perched above him on her desk.

"Reciprocity, remember?"

Without letting him answer, she jumped down and, rising on her tiptoes to reach him, grasped the rebellious locks of his ebony tousled hair, tugged on it to resume the salacious dance of their mouths. Their noses meeting once more, brushing, fleeing, finding each other again, crashing when her top lip was teasing his bottom. Eager mouths learning to savor one another in a religious manner yet never imprisoned.

All the while, she was guiding him with command backwards across the room until his legs gave in under the couch. Yoongi fell backwards on his butt and looked up.

There, in front of him, the divine siren kneeled.

When her fingers ran up along his thighs, he swallowed hard, and she surprised herself at how adorable she found him and his disastrous inability to hide his emotions. That's not what she expected when she got there. Saein had been under the impression that the Gumiho would be much more, hm, jaded, about it all, sex being part of their five fruits and vegetables a day after all. Seeing him on the edge of undone, all the promises of her effect and the obvious waves she rose in him duplicated tenfold her thrill.

She barely brushed over the fabric of his pants up along his inner thigh that he had stopped looking at her, searching some elusive answer on the ceiling, but she didn't need to read his face to know.

"Oh, does it feel good?" she said, sheepishly, a merciless sweet voice.

He let out a silent protest that felt very much like a how-dare-you-be-right to her and breathed in, although it almost sounded like an hiss. He breathed out and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, surprised (or disappointed) she hadn't made of a move, he looked down at her.

"Is that your attempt at... recriprocity?" he said, with a lot of aplomb for someone she had now a good view for how aroused he actually was, and would not take her eyes off of it, not even to meet his, feeding on her own anticipation at all the work she had cut out for herself.

 Yoongi was only wearing light black pants, the silky shirt had already flown away some time during their trip around the living room. Barely a button and a zipper in her way.

"Is that permission to attempt?" Her fingers slid in circles, mere millimeters from the bulge. She knew she was torturing him, and she wouldn't say she didn't take great pleasure in it. It was, after all, a breeze compared to what he did to her (note: Yoongi does not agree with that).

He laughed. "To attempt..." and as he laughed, revealing a gummy smile, she could see him visibly relax, sinking in the couch a little more at each chuckles.

For the second time, the word 'adorable' popped up in her head - which she quickly whisked away. What the hell is wrong with you, Saein? Truth is, it was easy to forget she was in the belly of the beast, for she pathed her way through his fangs so eagerly. Above her, there were little of the Gumiho in his demeanor, and so much of the sweet, charming in his clusminess, a bit confounding but eye-catching Min Yoongi - the one that had pulled on her heartstrings every time he pushed his glasses up his nose when he introduced himself to her in the library. The ruse of a clever Fox.

Don't fall for the trick, not when you already pulled the veil.

Yoongi exhaled out, surrendering to his own battle. "Yeah, yeah it is. Permission."

"Good," she nearly purred.

A swear crossed his lips when he felt her fingers remove the barriers of his pants, sliding the zipper down and popping open the button in an excrutiating slow manner. His pupils widened when she planted a thieving kiss above the elastic waist and started making her way ... back up?

Kissing his pelvis, lacing over his hipbone, gorging up his soft abdomen, his chest, and in her feast, completely disregarding where she had hinted her appetites laid.

Against all of his expectations, her nibbling mouth made her way up fast, lingered just enough to lick his jugular, before she found his lips again.

Hiding his dismay as much to her as to himself, Yoongi eagerly responded, pherhaps too eagerly, hoping to fall back on their already established pattern. However, this kiss was different.

Saein gave him no ground to stand firm on, no disillusions of chastity or timidity. Her tongue had a will and a purpose, and Yoongi could do nothing but submit to the venereal greed of it. Faster than he'd care to admit, he grew properly inebriated on her aphrodisia, gripping her hips to pull her closer.

But Saein had not given up.

The moment she felt him lose himself in her, melting in her embrace and the familiar territories she had gifted him, the divine aphrodite brought their dance to an halt, foregead to forehead, towering slightly over him on that couch.

Both her hands cupped gently his face. She forced his stormed skies eyes to come meet hers and found a hazed starlight night in his semi-closed pupils instead, disarmed by the abandonment, the tenderness, the mere adoration he had forgotten to hide away. Her own gaze melted in his.

He wasn't hers, she wasn't his. Lovers with spikes on their walls and armors twirled in thorns. But, in this compressed eternity, they belonged to each other.

Against her every intentions, as their breath were one, Saein leaned in, pulled by some invisible thread, and sealed them in that hymn.

Her lips lingered on his, clinging to the last remnants of heaven yet scared to fall into its depths. She playfully grazed his nose with hers and held his chin up. The Slayer commanded his attention. Her thumb came to replace the ghost of her kiss. With it, she drew the rim of his lips with the care of a sculptor carving Galatea. His mouth watered with bewilderment. Content with his response, her digit pulled on his bottom lip, just enough to dare him to pull away. He didn't.

She pressed her thumb beyond the breach of his pearly teeth and let it be coated with his saliva. To have her finger playing with his tongue, so vulnerable in between his canines that he could snap it off her anytime but there was no illusion on who got who in their jaws.

She removed her thumb, mimicking another kiss with it before leaning back. Without breaking eye contact - the thought didn't even cross the Fox's pretty head, completely transfixed on the frolic confidence oozing from her every pore- she brought her forefinger into her own mouth, licking on it in a evocative movement. Then added another, and another. Up and down.

Her knee, between his legs, slid further in.

Shiii-

The Fox's mind turned blank.   

He should have easily guessed what her next step would be but the remnants of her show and the way she took back hold of his mouth without a moment's respite. Without more ceremony, her prepared fingers sunk back down and slipped under the trousers and underwear she had opened up in advance.

His heated limb welcomed her with a shiver and the proof it had been bracing itself for her, glazed in its own moist, moving with a will despite being still half-trapped in the constraint of the clothes.

The sudden wave of pleasure, relief, and exhilaration collided in a muffled mumble that came damn near to preemptivaly giving her what she had yearned for. By the way her smile grew against his mouth, she knew it.

Keep it together, Min Yoongi. 

Under her wandering hands, it didn't take long until she felt his frame tensing to the extreme. Everywhere. Especially where it interested her.

Reaching under the tee-shirt hiding all of her divine curves, his hands gripped to the hollow of her rear. Meanwhile, hers were gliding over what they had, by all means, forged and that she finally freed in the open air, feeling it expand.

The motion of her kiss matched with the rhytmic movement she applied on his spear and gonads. It seemed that, impervious to the silent battle he was waging with himself, his anatomy had no such concerns and had taken the initiative in a demonstrative and virile manner. She worked in a lascious manoeuvre to her own glee, and his.  

Already, however, her fingers did not feel enough. Her kiss was becoming sloppy as her attention were siphoned elsewhere. Feeling the smooth growth throwbing against her agile caress was not enough. She wanted to see it. To feel it. Differently, fully.

With one last smooch, she let go, fell down to her knees and started her descent to the desired spot. It was a mess. She had a mess of him. And it was glorious. Leaking, everywhere, ruining his pants, pink and wide, carved beautifully in purple veins and ornated below with heavy jewels.

How could her fingers ever hoped to take care of all of this alone?

If the Slayer wasn't such an experimented girl, she might have had felt bashful about how wet her mouth got just looking at this. It didn't escape her, nonetheless, how the appendage had grown even harder at the mere fact she was looking at it.

When her gaze rose to Yoongi's face, it was nowhere to be found, hidden away behind his forearm.

She kissed it, at first, right on the tip. To taste it. The sweet saltiness. It shivered, and what sounded like a rumble fell in her ears. Thankfully for him, she had grown out of her own patience, or she might have been tempted to tease some more of where that came from.

Her fingers laced around the base for stability and her mouth, after drooling on it, for show more than efficiancy considering he had taken care of all lubricity needs himself, tackled the lovely task with great, great skill, it must be said. Her deep chocolate locks were flowing up and down across her mischievous head as her nimble little hands busied themselves and her lips redoubled the ardor her fingers had shown.

It is out of a misguided and prideful desire not to crack too soon, and maybe a fear to admit defeat that the Fox was trying his darnest to hold back the sounds of rapture that were rushing in, begging to be released, and instead let a flow of curses escape under his breath. His attempt at hiding the effect she had couldn't dissolve the unreasonable craving taking control of his panting body. On the contrary, every attention on her part heightened his debauchery.

He felt her wet rim slid to the most sensitive places, in a perfect pace, and another expletive escaped from his tongue.

How the fuck did he end up here? What the fuck happened?

He felt the grip of her hands, the watery warmth of her swallowing him whole as he threw his head back in abandon. Everything was spinning around him all at once. The ceiling was barely in focus anymore. There was his own pleasure boiling up, of course, but there were hers as well that was not dying down, as he had expected it would in the task, but on the contrary bloomed further more, deversing and mixing up with his, blurring the lines. The Fox had to shut his eyes close.

She felt his muscles jolting under her touch. His sighs gave cadence to her movements. His body was the perfect indicator of the impact of her caresses on his manhood, guiding her, teaching her unknowingly his weaknesses.

Saein could hardly be more pleased with herself. If only her pretty face was not so busy, she would have the biggest grin on it. The doll was so delighted, she had lost sight of her original claim, while he was still so focused on it, losing his mind to not concede - a moan.

The intermittent breathing of his torso formed waves above her. She could hear him struggle and grasp at straws to contain himself as she continued to take hold of his intimacy. She had him squirming and driven crazy. She had already won.

At least, she thought it was enough, until it came.

He was close, too close. She could feel it by the way his muscles were twitching, his breathing accelerating. Another attention of hers, the slip of her tongue on a sensitive part longer than the other and it came, what she had been waiting for, no, craving for: a moan.

Yoongi froze, biting his lip to pretend it wasn't his. But there was no denying it.

A lustful moan. His moan, let out against his will, closer to a growl but indistinguishably the melody of a moan nonetheless. In it, she heard the frustration of his loss and yet, equally, the pure relief that comes with the releashment of control and self-restraint.

Now, she remembered all too clearly why she even wanted it in the first place, and couldn't believe she thought anything less would be enough. A thousand pins and needles ran along her spine. Her demands were originally only a matter of balancing out their power dynamic, she would have never guessed that the sound itself would send her reeling.  

As of now, she knew she would only need one or two back and forths to get him to his paroxysm, one he would have reached a thousand times already if he hadn't been holding himself back. Oh, she wanted to get him there so badly, before as revenge, now as reward.

She wanted to hear those moans rain in her ears. But before she could enact it, she felt two large hands grab her shoulders, shift her weight backward and pin her down on the carpet.

Yoongi towered over her, panting. Both his claws planted on the ground on each side of her head. His eyes were more predatory than human - lit with a crazed, contagious blue flame.

"You first," he groaned.

Covering her slender body, he plunged his head into her warm skin. With a few deft movements, he stripped off her of that damn T-shirt, strewing her chest with tormented kisses. It was truly, truly hard to be mad at this betrayer.

His rough palms molded her thighs, hips and ass again, as his jaws nestled in the hollow of her neck, only to trail down to her bosom, swallowing her curves in every way he could with the encouraging whine of the beneficiary.

His thirst had no end, and she was, oh, so delicious. He met the quiver under his roving hands when they grabed the panties and pulled it off with such a rush it made the delicacy he had shown in the bathroom seem like another reality.

Unwillingly mirroring his partner in sin, the Fox's thoughts were clouded by a singular need. After one last good-bye kiss on her nip, his lips traced a thousand stars on his way to the hollows of her already wet legs.

Without giving her time to protest, which didn't even graze her mind, he had his head between her thighs, and his mouth on a quest through the mythical fountain.

Saein, unlike him, made no effort to hold back any moan. Swimming in her sea, the demon was applying its art, covering with attention its sweet pearl and sending her to a place she had been reaching for a long time now.

All of her attempts of control were squashed, and all she could do was gather all her figments of focus to not come in the next second, and damn the volume she was showing instead. Nonetheless, she would not last long under the furrows of his goddamn - jesus, what the-, talented asshole - tongue against her.

Her thighs were resting on his shoulders as he applied himself with devorous passion. While his fingers reached for her nip, unable to forsake it, he sucked more of her honey in, exploring what trick made her tick, and finding many, many treasures.

Her hips arched in a convulsive movement, ravaged by a frenzy fire. Too fast, too much.

After everything, she didn't know if she could ride another after this. And Saein refused to end it this way. The moment she felt herself reach too high of a high, and felt him notice it and start driving her there, she swiftly escaped. The Slayer kicked him off and backed away.  

He looked at her in disbelief, as if she had taken away his food from him. Truth was, she kind of had. The Gumiho wiped the glistening on his chin and mouth off with a smirk.

"Who's afraid of losing control now?"

"Oh, shut up."

She had no time to argue with him.

To Yoongi's surprise, she climbed over him, making him stumble back on his butt, only managing to not be completely flatted down on the rug by stopping himself with his elbows.

The assignment became clear the moment she straddled his mostly naked body. With her palm on his chest, she pushed him back on the floor, forcing him to lie down. Saein barely gave him time to react than she angled her pelvis into his hard-on, one hand on his hipbone for balance.

They exchanged one meaningfull look before Saein impaled herself on him with a lustful swear.

His considerable width deliciously furrowed in her sensitive furnace, throwbing against her twitching walls, filling her up inches after inches until it could no more. Her eyes rolled all the way back when he reached that floor. His jaw snapped back.

For once, they were both in complete agreement of never admitting how they felt in this very moment. More intimate than ever, and yet refusing to even glance in the face of the other by fear of what they might find.

She started moving.

With an acute care now that she had fully grasped what she was working with, relaxing and merging into it, trying not to get overboard and melting into how he pressed against all the right spots already, spots that had been already teased beyond reason.

Maybe doing this minutes after grazing the orgasm was a mistake.

When she drew back, only to move back in, deeper, Yoongi let out a gasp that he stifled by biting his lip.

She felt too damn good. As if she was molded for him. Squishing his tender self to its paramount with no care in the world for how she was edging him to his end.

 It's a mess. In his chest. Between his thighs. In his head. An unstable assemblage of 'I want more' and 'get the fuck over yourself, Min Yoongi'.  And those ecstatic sighs she was letting out. And so was he.

He who thought he'd eat, is devoured.

All egos had melted away in the blazing of their desire that only rose, and rose, and rose. His hands gripped her waist. With a low moan, he accompanied her languorous movements, as her face contorted. As he lifted his pelvis and filled her up with a quick and strong thrust, as deep as she could take him, he watched her whimper under it with delight.

The last remnants of his decline slowly cracked as he let himself be swept away. She pressed, back and forth, taking her revenge. The only reason they both didn't immediately came was this competition on who would first.

Taking advantage of a second of weakness on her part, Yoongi reversed their positions and flipped her over on the rug. One hand planted on the floor by her head, he accelerating his desperate, raging thrusts. The longer he went on, the less suave he became. More aggressive. Relentless. On the next thrust, he leaned over her, swaying her finely crafted figure back, and kissed her in what ended in a bite.

It only took his teeth grapping over her bottom lip to let it all go in a tidal wave. The culmination of all her overheating senses curled her toes and sent her all the way to the seventh heaven. The sounds of pleasure pressed through her throat faster and faster. A litany of 'fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,' escaped her as the dam she had been holding with all her strenght breached and crumbled her every defense.  

Above her, he was gripping his knuckles white on the low table as her pleasure morphed into blue energy, as if it was electricity, suddenly flew through his skin like a thunderbolt, knocking the air out of him. What she felt, he felt. With the acculmination of his own desire, there was no hope resisting anymore. All the ebullition that had built in him bursted into her welcoming heat. Yoongi poured himself with abandonment, ferosity and solace with only enough common sense not to crash down on her frame.

He collapsed at her side. His locks stuck on his sweaty forehead, his pants still around one ankle, and incredibly, extraordinarily full.

Her strength left her the moment the orgasm calmed down in what she could only describe as serenity. Her mind was free - no monsters, no end-of-the-world - nothing concerned her but the ecstasy over her sweaty body.

She could get used to this. 

For a while, they just stood there, on the soiled carpet, staring at the ceiling, while their breathing steadying themselves.

"So..., her voice brought him back, did it work?"

"Hmm?"

The Slayer turned her glowing face to him. He found the detail of the carpentry fascinating.

"Did you feed?"

 "Hm, hm," he confirmed. Oh, did he feed.

"Really? I didn't feel anything," she sounded disappointed. Saein perked up on a elbow to see him better. The Fox looked drained, delighted, although a little abashed, and still staring straight ahead of him. Flushed and human, but she wouldn't dare say that.

"Does it mean you're full?"

"I am," He smacked his lips with his tongue before slowly grinning.

"For now."

[americanssweetheart]

Keep Fighting!

As Americans, we are aware of the political stance we are currently in. From political standoffs to economic struggles, it is easy to feel overwhelmed and suffocated, especially when it feels as if our country is headed in a direction we disagree with. And yet, one sentence I keep encountering is, "I am sorry, world, well fix this in 4 years." But do we have to wait four years for another presidential election to move forward? 

The idea of sitting around and waiting for the new administration to take power four years from now is a dangerous form of complacency. While feeling defeated is understandable, we have more tools to fight against this political outcome than we may think. 

Midterms, Local Elections, and Special Elections Matter

First and foremost, the 2024 general election is not the end of our responsibility to our democracy. Although the general election gets the most attraction, we still have midterms in 2026. Midterm elections determine who holds the White House and who represents us in Congress and at the state and local levels every two years. 

Local elections and special elections happen year-round. Whether it is choosing your city council members, voting on local ballot initiatives, or filling vacancies in Congress, these elections matter. We have the ability and responsibility to stay engaged in all elections since they shape the laws and politics that impact our daily lives.  

Contact Your Representatives-They Work for You!

We have the opportunity that many people worldwide envy: the ability to contact our representatives. This is not a privilege- it is right. A right that many of us fail to exercise. If you're angry or worried about the direction our nation is heading, you do not have to take the defeat and move on. You can reach out to your senators, congresspeople, and state legislators. Inform them about where you stand, what policies you care about, and how their decisions can affect you and your community.  

If they're not listening? Organize peaceful protests, petitions, town hall meetings—these are all ways we can hold our elected officials accountable. We do not need to wait for the political pyramid to make a difference. Grassroots movements have made historical changes and brought significant changes to our society. Change doesn't have to wait for the next presidential cycle—it can start in your neighborhood, state, and local community.

Education

We should fix what is broken. Therefore, we must educate ourselves on the problem—explicitly identifying meaningful ways of educating people about propaganda and media literacy's roles in one's life. Far too many of us have fallen into the trap of being influenced by misinformation or half-truths, whether from social media, news, or any unreliable source. Having the ability to evaluate the news and information we consume is an essential tool for modern citizenship. 

Education is not just for students; it is for adults, too. We need to create a culture where people actively seek to learn, understand, and engage with political issues year-round, not just when the presidential race is happening. The habit of checking on political events every four years must be broken. Our stakes are too high; every decision made by elected officials creates long-lasting consequences, and if we remain passive, we risk becoming complicit in a system that does not serve us. 

Breaking the Cycle of Surrender

It is understandable to feel defeated and discouraged when things don't seem to be going your way, but we cannot afford the cost of giving into a sense of "proactive surrender." Fundamental issues are at play, and there are ways to push back. Some of us may be able to weather the storm, but we must remember that those most vulnerable are also the most affected by our inactivity. The more time we spend sitting back and waiting, the longer we allow the problems to fester. 

A Call to Action

So, what does "four years" mean? It does not mean waiting passively for the next election cycle. It means continuing the work, pushing for a meaningful change, and never giving up on our democracy. We have the power to shape our future now, in this very moment. We cannot wait another four years to start fighting for change that we desperately need now. The work is long, complex, and often discouraging, but it is worth it. Our country's future depends on it. 

credits to @dollywons for the border 💘