#one day you will look back on your actions and despise yourself. and that is what you deserve

[carnage-cathedral]

okay genuinely, I am so fed up with this site. like don't get me wrong, I love being on here and interacting with friends and stuff, but people are so nasty to others for no reason. we get hate mail for venting too much, we get hate mail for being too happy. we get fakeclaimed. we get people trying to trigger an ed relapse. we get victim blamed. we get invalidated. we get all this hate, despite avoiding conflict at all costs. it's infuriating because no matter what we do, someone is out to get us

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

All Yours. Only Yours.

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

It's been a little over 4 months since you and Lewis were forced to part your ways. It's been a little over 4 months since you have not been feeling yourself.

You weren't officially in a relationship, but you both fell hard for each other, you saw a future with each other. You were his baby girl, the only woman he wanted everything with. And you, you felt the happiest ever with him, safe in his arms, in his embrace. His kisses and his soft touch were your safe haven.

But 4 months ago all of that stopped when your father found out you were seeing Lewis. Your father completely lost it when he saw Lewis' arms wrapped around your waist and his lips pressed against yours. He couldn't stand the fact that his little girl was with a man 14 years older than her. He didn't see you as the woman that you were and so for him that relationship between the two of you was unacceptable.

At that very moment he forbade you to ever see him again. He told Lewis that if he ever approached you again, he would not be held accountable for his actions. He didn't care that Lewis was a seven time world champion nor that you would be financially secure with him for the rest of your life and you would never lack for anything. In his eyes, Lewis was a slob taking advantage of a young girl, his daughter, he despised it as much as he despised him.

You tried to protest, to convince him that Lewis' intentions with you were pure, that he would never do anything to hurt you and the most important thing that you love him and that you are truly happy with him. You begged, you were desperate, but that only made him angrier so that's when he gave you an ultimatum - if you choose to be with Lewis, you can forget that you have a father. It was either Lewis or him.

Your father's lack of understanding broke your heart, and it broke Lewis to see you like that. He could handle many things, but seeing his girl suffering was not on of those things. Lewis decided that he was not going to be the guy who stood between father and daughter and destroyed their close relationship.

He was forced to make one of the hardest decisions of his life and get away from you for good. He pushed you away, pretended he didn't want to see you again even though he was dying to. Deep down you knew why he was doing it, but that didn't ease your suffering one bit.

One night you cried so much that you physically felt pain in your chest. You could no longer spend your days and nights wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had found someone new or if he was still thinking about you. You felt like your head was going to explode from all those questions you didn't know the answers to. That's when you found yourself knocking on his door late at night.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked as he opened the door. His eyes quickly filled with worry when he saw you crying in front of his door, but little did he know that as soon as you saw him, you instantly felt better.

He was standing in front of you, shirtless, looking down at you and barely holding back from pulling you to himself.

"Lew..I can't..I can't take it anymore.." You sobbed. "Don't you dare push me away and tell me that I can't be here because I don't wanna hear it!"

His eyes softened at your words and heart hurt a little even though he felt relieved that you still felt the same way about him.

"Baby girl.." He wiped away the tears under your eyes with his thumbs before pulling you into a tight hug. The tightest one yet.

"I miss you, Lew" You whisper as you wrap your arms around his neck your eyes darting to his lips. "Don't you miss me too?" You ask tilting your head a little as he brushes the hair out of your face.

"Of course I do" He sighs leaning his forehead against yours. "Fuck, I miss you more than I thought was possible"

"Then let's not miss each other anymore. Let's put an end to this agony and be together" Your eyes pleaded.

"Y/n, I want that more than life itself, but you know it's not that simple"

"I don't care, I've had enough. I won't let anyone else decide my happiness." You stated. "It's you that I want. Maybe some people will find it hard to accept, but it's 10 times harder for me to be without you than to fight with my dad."

Your words somehow brought peace to his soul. They encouraged him to fight for you and your future because for him there was before you, but there is no after you.

"I never thought you were gonna get that much under my skin. I should be pushing you away right now, telling you you should find someone else, someone better for you. I just can't seem to.. Or I don't want to. Or maybe both."

After what felt like ages, his lips finally met yours again. The kiss wasn't soft nor gentle, it was hungry and passionate, eager for more. "Come here" He slammed the door before patting the back of your thighs to which you responded by jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You never broke the kiss as he led you towards his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He helped you take off your clothes leaving you only in your bra and panties. He took a second to admire your body tracing his fingers over your hip bone. "You're so beautiful, baby"

You smiled at his compliment tilting your head to get a better look of him as he started leaving kisses all over your stomach. Once his lips reached the hem of your panties, he stopped for a second to look up at you while his hand caressed your leg.

"Can I kiss you here?" He asked softly.

"Please kiss me there" You quickly granted his request.

"Spread your legs for me"

He left a kiss over the lace fabric before tugging them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He started slowly, licking you lazily up and down your folds. You were so eager for him that you could feel your wetness trickling down your holes. You clenched your legs around his head giving him a perfect opportunity to grab your ass and bury his face deeper.

"Ahh, yes, yes" You moaned as his tongue swirled over your clit. He was changing his pace, leaving quick kitten licks and then attaching his lips to your clit and sucking on it.

You started to move too much from the pleasure that was overwhelming you so he put his hand over your stomach to keep you in place. His other hand found your entrance and the tips of his fingers started teasing you circling around it.

"Please" You pleaded.

"Please what? What do you want, baby?"

"Put your fingers in me"

The sight of you lying so spread out for him, whimpering his name, begging him for more made him grind his hips against the mattress trying to create any kind of friction to his rock hard dick.

Granting your wish he pushed his index finger in. His eyes were stuck on your parted lips and closed eyes, he loved how responsive, how obedient you were to him. You arched your back as he added another one pumping them in and out of you. It didn't take long for your legs to start shaking and squeezing around his head.

"That's it baby, cum around my fingers"

As you finished, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips to taste you not wasting any drop as he licked them clean.

"You did so good" He said softly into your ear before he kissed you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"Have you been with anyone else since we stopped seeing each other?" You were curious. You don't know how you would react if he actually was. It would hurt you, definitely, but you'd still want him as much as you do now.

"No, baby girl, the other side of this bed belongs only to you." He smiled caressing your cheek knowing there was no other girl for him except for you.

"And what about you?"

"All yours. Only yours." He assured you once again bringing peace to your mind and heart. "Gonna prove it to you right now" He said leaving sloppy kisses down your neck. "Gonna show you how much I missed you"

Pulling down his shorts and boxers, he pressed his dick against your stomach slowly grinding himself up and down while holding his weight on his arms just above you.

Your hand slid down taking him in your hand and giving him a few strokes. Your touch made him shiver and groan in response. It was as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Fuck me, Lew" You whispered. Your hand led him to your entrance and he wasted no time pushing himself inside of you. He left kisses all over your face and stayed still so you could get used to him. Once you felt ready he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"You feel how hard I am for you? Only you can make me this hard, baby" You moaned at his words wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Uhh, yes baby, fuck me, fuck me hard"

"Fuck, baby, you're so dirty" Lewis got a little carried away at your prompting so he suddenly and strongly increased his pace. Your breasts spilled out of your bra as he pounded into you and he couldn't resist but to leave mark just above your nipple. "So fucking perfect"

Your brought your hands to your boobs squeezing them and playing with your nipples and the sight drove him completely crazy. It awakened the animal in him so he pulled out only to push his dick all the way inside you. You winced pushing your hand at his pelvis as he hit your deepest spot.

"You okay, baby? Want me to stop?" He asked with concern.

"No, no it's just you're so big and so deep inside" You whimpered.

"Yeah, baby? You feel me here?" He smirked putting his hand over your lower stomach. "You feel me in your stomach? Just a little more love, I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?" You nodded as he started slowly moving again.

"Take it just like that. My good girl taking my dick so well. So pretty. Can't get enough of you." You moaned as your hand slid down your stomach adding pressure to your clit while Lewis continued fucking you.

"You gonna let me fill you up?"

"Mhm" You moaned.

"Yeah? Wanna see my cum dripping out of your pussy" The pressure in the pit of your stomach started building up again with every dirty word that left his lips. "Gonna get you full of my cum, fuck" That's all it took to push you over the edge and come undone around him. You screamed out his name and his orgasm followed yours filling you up to the brim.

Both panting, sweating, you could hardly catch your breath as a strong sense of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Still deeply immersed in you, he propped himself up on his elbows hovering over you and leaving a kiss on your cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked.

"I'm more than okay" You smiled rubbing his cheek with your thumb as his eyes lit up.

"That's good to hear."

"Let's take a shower and cuddle until we fall asleep, yeah?"

"Wait, before we do that, I just wanna tell you something"

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, so much" And there it was. His first I love you to you. The first time he said it out loud even though he's showed it in so many ways already. "Wanna spend the rest of my life with you"

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I love you, baby."

[kyracooneyx23]

odio amarte

Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!reader

summary: All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'.

(i do not speak much Spanish, so if some of my translations are wrong I apologise!)

a/n: not proof read or edited and very short

'What is wrong with you Alexia!' You exclaim when the Spanish girl spills her cup of coffee all over the table, the brown liquid smudging your notes that you had been working on forever.

She looks up to you and sends you a dirty glare. 'It's not my fault that you've taken up the whole table with your stupid homework meaning I had no where to put my cup.' She snaps back gesturing to the mess you had created everywhere.

'You could've just asked me to move some stuff.' You tell her sighing as you try to make out the messed up words. 'Or do I scare you to much?' You tease a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

'¿alguna vez te callaste?' (do you ever shut up?) she mutters walking away into the kitchen leaving you alone to try and clean up her mess.

No one really knew why you and Alexia despised each other so much, some of the fans thought it was because Alexia was scared that you would replace her on the team and others would make up crazy rumours that were definitely untrue.

You're teammates didn't have a clue and to be fair neither did you. You hated Alexia because she had always been mean to you, and you had no idea why. If you were entirely honest you didn't really hate the girl, you often found yourself enjoying the attention she gave to you whenever you two were arguing.

After a while of rewriting your notes you placed them all in a neat pile and stood up stretching your back. You're teammates had left to go to the shops about an hour ago, leaving you and Alexia home alone together. They were meant to be back soon but you still had some time to kill and decided to do one of your favourite things.

Annoying Alexia.

You wonder into the living room of your and Keira's shared apartment, sitting on the armchair next to the couch where Alexia was already sitting, her eyes glued to her phone.

The Spaniard hated it when you would bite your teeth, a nasty habit you often found yourself absentmindedly doing.

This time however, you purposely starting chewing on your nails. Pretending to stare out the window, when in reality you were staring at the blonde girl on your couch, a grin forming on your face when she noticed your actions and her jaw tensed.

Her mouth stayed shut though, not wanting to give you the reaction you clearly wanted.

Alexia had not known you for very long, but in the time you had been teammates at Barca your relationship had been rocky to say the least.

She was entirely to blame for your constant bickering, she was the one who hadn't even bothered being nice when you'd approached her on your first training session.

Alexia did feel bad for how rude she had been to you, but once she had began and you had retaliated she couldn't back down and seem like a coward in front of you.

That would be humiliating.

On your first day, Alexia was late, but you'd immediately caught her attention. You'd only been there for a few hours but you already seemed so comfortable talking with all the girls like you'd known them for ages.

You'd already had Alexia hooked and she didn't like that. She didn't like the way that her heart would race whenever you laughed or the way she'd look in the mirror to checked how she looked whenever you walked closer.

In all honesty she was scared of her feelings.

She felt like a stranger in her own body, completely foreign to all the feelings she was experiencing.

She'd never felt this way before for someone she'd only just met.

It didn't seem like it at all. But those feelings had stuck with her for almost a year and a half now.

She hid it behind every insult and eye roll. She'd blame it on her anger whenever her cheeks flushed red at something you did.

But the Spanish captain was still yet to react to your nail biting, which was unusual for her, and you're nails were beginning to bleed from biting them for too long.

Disappointed in the result, you decided not to back down just yet, starting to make clicking noises with your tongue knowing that it always drove Alexia crazy.

It only took a few seconds for her turn around and face you. 'I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work.' She snaps making you grin as your plan had worked.

'Are you sure about that?' You tease, making her roll her eyes and huff as you begin clicking your tongue even more.

'odio amarte!' (i hate that i love you) she groans hands flying up to her hair.

All of a sudden your clicking stops and your whole face burns bright red. You didn't know a lot of Spanish as you sucked at learning languages but you'd learnt quite a bit from just hanging out with the other girls.

You thought you hadn't heard her right. Surely she wouldn't say something like that right? You must've translated it all wrong.

Alexia had noticed the way you'd frozen up and how a light blush painted your cheeks.

'Alexia?' You questioned, voice weak and quiet not quite processing what she had just said. 'Why did you say that?'

Her eyes widened and all of a sudden the normally cool and composed Spanish captain felt sick. She was so used to muttering stuff in Spanish around you that she'd forgotten you actually did know a fair bit.

'Nothing.' She said but it didn't matter, you both knew exactly what she had said and now all insults were long gone, instead you sat in an awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take a big risk; 'Do you mean it?'

Alexia didn't know how to respond, she couldn't really say that no, but she also didn't want to confess the truth.

'I-I guess...' She stutters her cheeks permanently pink. 'I guess that I do.'

You were in shock for a while not knowing how to respond.

Alexia didn't know what to do either. She don't know what made her get up from her seat and do the one thing she never thought she'd do.

She kissed Y/N L/N...

'I keep finding new ways to stuff up don't I?' Alexia sighed when she pulled away from the kiss.

'No.' You say, putting your fingers up to her lip. 'You didn't.'

'I didn't what?' Alexia says shocked, looking at you with wide eyes. Not believing what you had just said.

'You didn't mess up.' You said sternly, placing your hand on her shoulders and looking at her in the eyes 'Not even a little bit.'

'You sure?' Alexia asks you, looking down and biting her lip in nervousness.

'I think I'm sure.' You say, a small and nervous smile on your face. 'As long as you don't regret doing it.'

'I don't' Alexia exclaimed a little too loudly causing you to move a little bit away from her due to the loudness of her voice.

'I'm sorry.' She said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head.

'Don't worry about it.' You smile a small laugh also escaping from your lips.

'No really I'm sorry.' Alexia says, her mood changing to much more serious 'I'm sorry for being a dickhead for the past year, I shouldn't have been that rude to you.'

'I mean, I was rude as well, you're not the only one at fault here.' You laugh lightly.

'No, you were only like that because I didn't give you a proper chance and I'm sorry.' She says, looking genuinely sad.

_______

Meanwhile, Keira, Lucy, Ingrid and Mapi were all walking home from the shops together. Mapi slower than the others as she had been forced to carry all the bags.

'I wonder how Y/n and Alexia are?' Keira wonders, everyone knowing how much you to argue. 'Probably wasn't the best idea to leave the two of them alone together.'

'y/n/n had uni work and Alexia said she'll stay and make sure she's alright.' Lucy states 'Half the time I can't tell if they're fighting or flirting, it's kind of funny. I wonder who'll make the first move.'

'Let's just hope they're not at each others throats again. I hate when they fight.' Ingrid sighs, taking a bag of Mapi after noticing her struggling.

'I agree, when they fight they're one step away from getting together. I don't think I can handle anymore of their longing stares at each other when they think no one is looking. The two of them cause most of my stress now.' Keira sighs, shaking her head.

The English midfielder sticks her key into the lock of your shared apartment when the four footballers arrive opening the door and walking in.

They all make their way to the living room. Absolutely nothing prepared them for what they were about to see.

Sitting on the couch, Alexia Putellas and Y/N L/N were at each others throats. But not in the fighting way. Keira choked on her own saliva in shock, Lucy and Ingrid gasped and Mapi just yelled.

'¡mis ojos!' (my eyes) Mapi exclaimed, startling you and Alexia causing you to pull away from each other. Blushes covering both of your faces.

'Surprise?' You say sheepishly.

part 2?

sorry this isn't the best

[criminalamnesia]

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

[bosbas]

Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you. 

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently. 

But the truce didn’t last. 

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room. 

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone. 

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight. 

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties. 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

 Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room. 

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady. 

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink. 

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke). 

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him. 

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately. 

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window. 

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision. 

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway. 

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say. 

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say. 

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you. 

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger. 

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you. 

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you. 

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings. 

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated. 

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose. 

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose. 

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you. 

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand. 

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?” 

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously. 

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do. 

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words. 

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.” 

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter. 

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball. 

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him. 

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him. 

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him. 

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier. 

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize. 

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained. 

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle. 

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you. 

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue. 

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you. 

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned. 

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again. 

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face. 

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways. 

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip. 

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”   

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things. 

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you. 

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point. 

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter. 

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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[thatfrailsoul]

– Parts of me that I seek in you

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

When we strive to connect, to know someone... There are many different reasons for which our heart calls more for one person than the other. The appearance, the ways, their mind or heart, their actions or deepest goals and desires... No matter what it is, there is always that something that makes them shine in the darkness that surrounds us. And, very often, that something is the same as the one that we lost, can't find in ourselves... So we desperately look for it in others. With such perseverance and obsessive need that, sometimes, we allow it to lead us to those that perhaps, at the end, we would've preferred to not meet.

So what is it? What you miss in yourself but so desperately need? Where or when did you lose it? And where and how can you finally find that missing piece?

Slow down for a moment. Breathe. Listen to your heart, to its rhythm. Allow it to speak to you. And choose the image that seems so familiar, so similar to what you feel. Remembering that, whatever the message might be, you are free to listen to it or to let go. Without the need to make it fit. Because your true answer will always find you, the moment you will be really ready and will have the need.

_

– Pile One,

the star, the ten of cups and the fool.

Your poor and innocent soul... Your tired heart, your consumed mind... The only thing you ever wanted, the one that you wanted back then, was simply to leave it all behind. All that pain, all that fear. All the reasons why you couldn't ever be enough or right for someone, for anyone, that for once you just desired to don't hear... You found the last bits of your strength, patience and courage, all that remained in your shattered heart. And you used them to try to heal. All those numerous wounds, so many that it just feels like a whole and single, draining, torturing, one.

But what did it give you, in exchange of this incredible resilience to try to heal? Only a little relief, a little distraction... That hid that hole that was becoming bigger and bigger, with each time that you worked on - or to be exact forced - the healing of your soul.

And this is the thing. This is what ruined it all, what made it so difficult and challenging. What influenced so many others areas of your life... One little but so important detail about who you are, the way you are. And how much you got used in this life to beat yourself up, blaming for every single disgrace that you experienced... How often you repeated it, demonstrated it to yourself with every step that was supposed to help you heal. You never were gentle, patient, understanding. You never gave yourself credit for how many right things and choices you made. Or how many others mistakes never were really yours, but of somebody else. You did none of this. But only focused on rushing, on becoming better, on healing faster, growing, so you could be sooner worthy and ready to show what a good person you are to this world. You were angry, frustrated, ashamed. You despised yourself for needing healing and learning in the first place. You regretted every single additional day that you needed to get it together. Only noticing how many flows you still have, how many wounds are still bleeding, how many triggers you still can't endure.

Your desire, your intention, was so good... So innocent, genuine and truly right. But so quickly and scarily naturally it became just another cage and punishment that you gave yourself. Changing the whole purpose, the whole meaning, of a journey that is so pure. That was never supposed to be so rushed, give you so quickly those results that now you are so angry to don't see manifesting in your world... And that you decided, unconsciously or perhaps not, to look for in others. The ones that seem so beautiful, so healthy and whole. The ones that seem to go through life so gracefully, no matter the obstacles or challenges on their path. The ones that seem to be able to influence you so positively, if only you stay close to them, showing you the right ways and directions. Supporting you, helping you in doing it correctly, like you seem incapable of doing on your own.

But, no matter how much we adore to think the opposite, we indeed are the only ones responsible for our journey. For our battles, our victories or our loss. No matter how supportive, how close others are, they still can't really help us. Not when we don't allow even our own self to do the needed work. You can't fight through it, not this journey. You can't do it with the only motivation and push being your own meanness, judgment and resentement for the things that you dared to do or not. You can't be there, behind your own back, looking closely at every your step and action, ready to attack if you don't do it right.

But you can allow yourself to take more time. To be slower. To make more mistakes. To feel once again that pain, if it's the one that still overwhelms your heart. You can remember. You can reflect. Learn something from it. Or maybe not. Because it is normal, it is right, to take time to heal, to go through it with all the needed ups and downs.

And you can still do it. You can continue this journey changing your pace and rhythm, or simply starting from scratch. You can and need to do it. Because no-one else can help and guide you, as you can do to your own self. By being gentle and understanding with your heart and mind, that indeed do their best to allow you to feel and experience this life.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Two,

the magician, the fool and the page of swords

You have something so beautiful, so unique, within yourself. Such passion that, if not explored and shared, can consume you inevitably. Consume that power that you sometimes forget to have. So you always took care of it. You always nourished it. In the moments when it felt as natural as breathing, and even in those where it was too similar to a torture, that need to create and do something but without any idea on why, how to start or from where. And even if, thanks to you and your deepest love, this passion and calling did survive... It is starting to fade now. Submerged with all the questions and doubts about whether or not it is worth it, if you are good enough to do it at all, if it is really that important... All because for quite sometime you were the only admirer and supporter of your work.

You are wavering, your steps and actions as you create become more and more unstable, as every inspiration or idea seems not enough to be worthy of the success, even just appreciation that you want. But this something... Is so yours, so made perfectly just for you and to express your soul... That you can't really just leave it. You can't just stop doing it, even if it is becoming hard to be satisfied as you used to, because you so naturally always gravitate back to creating and allowing your mind and heart to speak up through every step of your work. So you keep going, with a non consistent rhythm, many set backs, infinite doubts... Doing it, because you feel this need and desire so much. But not really enjoying it anymore. Because in the eyes of others it never seems good enough, and therefore it doesn't feel enough for your own self. For the one that, in the first place, you were supposedly creating it for.

It is so natural and normal to have the desire to share, to welcome others in your universe in a sense, to show them who you are or how you see this world... But what starts so innocently and genuinely, a way to connect to others and don't feel so different or not understood, an alternative type of motivation and fuel for your creativity even... is so often soon to become exactly what kills it, overwhelming your every idea with the judgment of others, and their way of seeing the world.

It just shifted your perspective, about yourself and your work. It made you feel little, insignificant, too simple or too much, confronted to what others seem to consider deserving and worthy of their attention and love. It made you feel useless, because when your creation was ignored, you felt like what was really being rejected was your soul that spoke through your work.

And time after time, day after day, this calling became so faint, almost non existent. Not because it is really going away... But because you are just the one that tries so desperately to ignore it and to not hear it. Convinced that following it would be useless, without anyone appreciating and admiring what you do. Convinced that doing it for your own self and enjoyment is not really worth it, because it doesn't give you any income, any fame, any support and appreciation from others. Convinced that it is only and simply a waste of time.

But is it? Is it really completely useless if you are the only one to whom you dedicate the creations of your soul? Or does it give you a chance to feel and experience this world in your own way, processing those emotions and thoughts, reinventing them? Does it give you back the ability to breathe and feel at ease, once you allow everything that overwhelms you flow out through your work? Does it fill your time with excitement and enjoyment? Does it give you a safe place, that allows you to rest and hide from everything else? Does it make you feel proud of who you are and what you did, what you were able to create with your own mind and hands? Because even if it does only one of these things... Than it is worth it. Because this is what gives you the energy and fuel to live this life, to appreciate it, to go through it. Having something that always protects and expresses your soul.

You can't do only what assures you the interest or appreciation of others. You can't do it for so long as you are planning or trying to do. You can't do it without constantly feeling on autopilot, thrown from one work to another, trying to satisfy every one of them in hopes that in return they will support your work. It is not true to you. It is not what you want or need. It is not even something that you can do, the things that they want. It is only a play, of which you are trying to learn all the phrases and rhythm, but that you can keep up with only for so long.

This life is not unfair, wrong, useless, a constant and neverending annoying and painful cycle. But it is this way for you, who doesn't have anymore that tiny but vital component - the language of your soul. You are suppressing it, you are limiting it and judging. For what? For whom? For what reason? This is not something that needs to be enough or good for others. It is not something that needs to give you incredible success, wealth or recognition. It can, but before any of that it needs only to be something that you enjoy. Truly and simply.

You don't need to find new ideas, ways, hobbies, interests, sports, studies, paths to explore - you just need to comeback to what you already know that you love. And welcome it in your Iife, starting doing it again and more. Just for your own fun and enjoyment, that will overflow from your heart to every other aspect of your life. Connecting everything, and making it free from the torture of unsatisfaction and frustration that you endure.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Three,

the devil, the justice and the star

Sometimes we cross paths with those that perhaps we weren't meant to be with, we weren't meant to create and have the same story as the one we desired and pictured so well. It happens. It hurts. Then, eventually, it goes away. But when it happens again and again, one person after another... One betrayal, lie or misunderstanding after the other... How can one not notice the one element that connects them all - themselves? How can one not think, even in the slightest, that perhaps it is not working out because of who and how they are?

So one dives into it, tries to remember every single moment, analyse their own ways, with the desperate need to find that wrong something and change it, making everything in themselves right again. With the need to demonstrate that it is something that can be changed and that it won't be this way forever. That they can and will be better, more worthy, more right, and for this reason chosen by someone. And perhaps they do find it, that something, they work on it day and night, fight their own demons and who they are, and come out of it brand new. They put themselves out there, open up to people and try genuinely to connect... And then it happens all over again. The same pain, confusion, uncertainty, doubts, betrayal or a broken heart. But they did the work right? They changed, or did they not? And there it goes the fear of not being worthy no matter what, of being destined to loneliness and hurt, or perhaps of not doing enough. And some collapse, they hide, and try with all their forces to make themselves enough, to not need anyone else in their life. While others... Others don't say it out loud. Don't think about it. Hide it deep down. And try to make things work no matter what it means to accept and endure, just to not have yet another person leaving them behind.

And you... You are doing it right now. With them, or with others in your life. Subtly, unconsciously, you force yourself to stay. No matter the words you hear, the actions you see, the promises that you know are already broken and mean nothing to the person by your side. You stay. Because walking away might mean that there never will be someone else, that you will be the only one you will have.

It is difficult and painful to think about being somehow different and wrong, never enough. It is even more difficult to try to work on it and change yourself. It is difficult to face not only the pain but also the loneliness. To feel that fear of living this way forever creeping on you with each day. So staying, trying to be more understanding, patient, docile, considerate, delicate, silent and comfortable for others... Seems indeed less difficult and scary, because in return they too will stay. Even when it is clear that you are torturing and consuming yourself. Even when you so clearly and surely know that the way you are treated is not okay at all. All for that acceptance, that tiny affection, even if not genuine. All for those things that you think you will never be able to find in yourself, and might not find once the people that are now in your life will not be here anymore. A void that, perhaps, won't ever be filled with another person, with another connection or love.

But by convincing yourself to adapt to others and what they look for or don't love... You did exactly that one thing that will not allow people who are genuinely interested in you to come closer. Not when that place in your life is already occupied by another someone. Not when you show so ardently and persistently that the way you are treated is what you want.

A right person - the one that is interested in you exactly the way you are, not less not more - even when so close to you to see you... Will never be able to do something, to help you, to take you out of this play pretend and torture... Because no one can do what should start from you, what you should be ready to finally to do: to protect yourself, t be treated right, to be loved and appreciated for the way you are.

It is safe, please believe me. It is safe for you to be who you are. It is safe for you to don't accept scraps of love and attention from others. It is safe if you walk away from those who can't find that one thing they want in you, who is already perfectly fine and enough. It is safe for you to don't force it. It is safe for you to let them all go. Because the space they will leave behind them is not something so negative as you convince yourself to be. It is not a sign of loss. It is only more space for your own self to grow, to bloom, to be who you are. To shine so proudly and brightly and to be seen by those who will notice and love you. And not the ways you can adapt to someone elses need, desire or mood.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

_

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely. 

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course. 

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess. 

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!” 

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck? 

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline. 

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?” 

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not. 

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths. 

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments. 

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest. 

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them. 

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did. 

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you. 

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this. 

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple. 

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister. 

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood. 

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time. 

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is. 

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room. 

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.” 

Of course it would be him. 

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind. 

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now. 

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

 A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place. 

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul. 

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words. 

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night. 

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,” 

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun. 

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone. 

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space. 

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window. 

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat. 

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.” 

Your eye twitches. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less. 

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?” 

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot. 

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates. 

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him. 

“Here.”

“Thank you.” 

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t. 

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee. 

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup. 

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.” 

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened. 

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle. 

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw. 

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him. 

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him. 

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames. 

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different. 

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny. 

Incredibly horny. 

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle. 

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in. 

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows. 

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma. 

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.” 

“Your cat hates men?” 

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.” 

“Fancy fucking word–” 

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.” 

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal. 

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended. 

Cockblocked by a fucking cat. 

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.” 

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago. 

Well, you still have your food to finish. 

“Want me to heat up your food again?” 

“Mmm, sure.” 

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going. 

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary. 

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements. 

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces. 

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time. 

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession. 

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally. 

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door. 

“Come on, come on…” 

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car. 

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems. 

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM? 

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should. 

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck. 

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider. 

“Chifuyu.”

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[leahsgf]

BOUQUETS – leah williamson

in which leah, famous hater of tiktok joins in on a trend, for you.

one thing about your girlfriend that not many people knew - is that she is secretly an absolute dork, through and through. her signature frown and grumpy expression when she focused, meant that not only was she endlessly teased by you for it, and jokingly reminded that if the wind blew she’d be stuck like that - but also that she gained a reputation for being very serious, and rarely showing her emotions, particularly on the pitch.

you however, and anyone who had the pleasure of getting to see her behind closed doors, and truly knowing her - knew that that was the furthest thing from the truth.

which, is what led you to now.

you’d been sprawled almost flat on top of her in bed for what had felt like hours on end, your favourite place to be on the rare occasion that you both had a day off, when an unusual silence settled between the two of you.

unusual, in the sense that these private moments between the pair of you were usually filled by leah’s rambles about anything and everything, a narration of every single thought that had remained unspoken over the time she wasn’t with you.

“what are you doing?” you protested, breaking the silence and grumbling into the crook of your neck, not even a millisecond after her fingers stopped trailing through your hair.

“nothing, grouchy! just trying to figure out this stupid thing. bloody tiktok i swear! i don’t know how you and the girls love it so much, makes no sense!” she waved her phone in the air, eyebrows furrowing and that frown deepening - but her fingers instantly resuming their actions in your hair, causing you to slump once more.

“wait babe why are you on tiktok! you hate tiktok!” the realisation hit you rather slowly due to your state, your mind flashing back to the what must be hundreds of times that you begged her to do a cute video with you - only to be met with a rant about how much she despised the app.

“oi! mind your business. you’ll see! just need some patience my girl!” she chuckled, bopping you on the nose as she tilted her screen just out of your eyes’ reach.

to say you were confused was a major understatement. you knew you could’ve seen her screen if you really wanted to, your position on top of her giving you a rare power.

one that you knew not to test, however. so, you let yourself shrug off her strange behaviour and settle back into her, being pulled in by the addictiveness that was her skin, and her scent.

“there! done!” she pushed her phone into your face, so suddenly it almost made you jump.

and what faced you, confused you almost as much as when it was hidden from you.

it was her lockscreen. a new one, replacing the picture of the two of you.

a bouquet of flowers.

they were cute, undeniably. dainty little illustrated cartoon flowers, in a variety of colours and styles, put together in a bouquet - in the middle of a plain background.

but not enough to match the shit eating, proud yet almost shy grin that was spread across her lips.

“it’s….cute? lee i don’t get why you’re showing me this though?” your frown mirrored her previous one, confusion visible all over your face that made her giggle, and prod at your flushing cheek.

“look silly girl, it’s some trend on tiktok that beth showed me. there’s a flower for each letter of the alphabet, and people have been putting them together and spelling out their partner’s names to make a little bouquet and i thought it was cute, okay!” she said, almost sheepishly - looking away from you as you sat up, grinning.

“you’re so cute oh my god.” you peppered kisses all over her face, ignoring her protests.

“the team cannot hear about this. kay? i’m their captain, i have a reputation to uphold!” she met your lips in a kiss, almost immediately proving her own point wrong.

“i think everyone knows how much of a dork you are baby i’m afraid, we’re way past that point!”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

Okay so more a/b/o König because heck why not. The last one was so angsty that I had to bring these two back together a bit. I mean, I can't have König just hating the reader, right? Nah there's gotta be more. Also, world building!

Story below cut

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

You’d spent the past week in König’s home off base. He came back every night, prepared you a meal, and then retired to his office before heading to bed. At first, you’d considered it rude. Then you considered the fact that he was hiding from you in his own home. With that understanding, you had more sympathy for the alpha as he tried to keep the distance between you.

Tonight, he was cooking something a bit more exciting than usual. It was a simple spaghetti, but it was better than the microwave meals he’d been making for the past few days. It was startling to see him cook, particularly because you’d realized the man was a far better cook than you’d chalked him up to be.

He diced the onions into fine little cubes before dashing them from the cutting board into a frying pan. The sizzles that came forth was ripping hot and bright, the only sound that filled the kitchen aside from the whirring fans of the fumehood.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked once more as you sat across the kitchen island.

König looked up at you. His ice cold eyes washed you over briefly, then trained themselves back on the floor.

“No.”

If you hadn’t been listening, his answer would have been lost among the thuds of the knife coming down on the cutting board.

You hated to watch, but he didn’t dare give you a single job to do. Instead, you hung about like an unwanted phantom, unable to tear yourself away from the only action you’d seen all day. Before König came home, you’d spent the day reading the books that covered the home like wallpaper, but you struggled to find something that kept your interest for longer than half an hour. It all seemed terribly dry.

When König had come home, you’d greeted him as you did every day, and he ignored you as he did every day. It was a painful routine to lose yourself in. You desperately wanted to have any sort of human interaction but he kept you shut in his home, out of sight out of mind. It was a simple way of keeping you, and for understandable reasons. He didn’t want to become attached. You desperately wished he would change his mind.

You watched the large man maneuver his body through the tiny kitchen with startling ease. You wondered how long he’d lived here to know just how to duck his head to avoid slamming it into the cupboards as he stood up. Evidently, long enough to figure out how to tuck his enormous frame under the fumehood.

You saw the pure hatred in his eyes when he turned back to look at you. He hid it behind a mask of concern, but you saw that brief flicker for long enough to know just what you were to him. A pest, if that. You knew he despised the fact that he had to care for you. If he could, he would toss you out by the scruff of your neck, but the SHA kept a strict eye on the status of matched couples. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for alphas to harm their omegas. You’d heard too many horror stories of alphas losing control and tearing their omegas apart. There was a story on the news every other week about it. When König looked at you, the raw hatred that he exuded was enough to remind you of just what place you held in this world.

He hissed as a splatter of oil spat up onto his hand.

Instinctively, you ducked your head and apologized.

As he ran his hand under cool water, he turned to address you properly for the first time since he brought you home.

“Why are you sorry?” he barked.

You flinched and squeaked out, “I’m supposed to be cooking for you.”

König dried his hand and turned back to the frying pan without another word.

You thought that would be the end of it, but it seemed König had other ideas.

“You’re not expected to do anything for me,” he said quietly, “I’ve lived on my own for long enough.”

You scowled.

“What am I supposed to do then?” you challenged him, more vitriol in your tone than you intended.

You’d hoped he hadn’t noticed for a brief moment. Of course, by the way he set his shoulders back and drew himself up to his full height, you couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You,” he glared at you, “are meant to sit down and be quiet. That’s part of being an omega, ja?”

You grit your teeth, “Part of being an omega is providing for their alpha.”

König’s eyes sharpened as his nostrils flared, “Part of being an omega is listening to what an alpha says.”

“So what am I supposed to do all day?” you challenged him further.

König’s harsh glare softened to a defeated look, “I don’t know.”

You guessed you shouldn’t have expected him to know. So thus, you sat quietly and waited for him to finish making the pasta sauce.

Not much later, König turned back to you with a bowl full of spaghetti. Instead of passing it to you, he walked to the table and set the bowl across the table from him. You looked at him for further instruction, but he said nothing as he began to eat.

You slunk into the other chair and picked up your utensils. You looked between them and König, who was pointedly avoiding looking at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly before eating.

His acknowledging hum was lost by the taste of the bright tomato sauce on your tongue. Fresh herbs entangled with the savory taste of meat as you took in another mouthful. For someone who only cooked microwave meals, you were surprised to find yourself enjoying the fresh meal.

“You like it?”

You looked up at König, who was watching you intently. You didn’t know if you preferred his absence or his intense interest.

“It’s great,” you said quietly before taking another mouthful.

“Gut,” König nodded and turned back to his meal.

You waited a bit before you decided to try and break the silence.

“Was work okay today?” you asked quietly, afraid of your own voice.

König didn’t reply and for a moment, you thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you.

After a brief pause, König cleared his throat, “It was. Was your day okay?”

You put your fork down briefly.

“There wasn’t much to do,” you admitted.

König nodded carefully. He drummed his fingers on the table before he looked back up at you, “It must be lonely here.”

You nodded timidly.

“I see…” König finished off his bowl. He stepped to the kitchen, piled more into his bowl and then sat down with a groan that was echoed by the chair.

“It’s not a big problem,” you tried to say but König waved you off.

“No, it is. You’re in my home now, so I’m responsible for you,” König grumbled as he took another mouthful, “I will give you a phone.”

A phone?

“You’re giving me a phone?” you looked at him strangely, “but aren’t omegas not supposed to own phones?”

König glared into his bowl, “Those rules are meaningless.”

“But what about the SHA?” you asked.

“There’s no laws barring omegas from having their own devices,” König grumbled, “that’s just a myth.”

You looked down at your hands. All this time you were allowed to have your own phone? Your father had strict control over your phone and laptop before you were taken into the SHA program. You’d never had unrestricted access. The thought boggled your mind.

“I can get you one tomorrow,” König promised, “and when I come home I’ll show you some forums where you can talk to others.”

“Other omegas?” you asked hopefully.

“If you’d like,” König offered, “or there’s mixed boards where you aren’t bound to messaging within your own class.”

“That exists?” your world was steadily falling apart at the seams.

König’s eyes widened, almost as though he was shocked or frightened by what was only obvious to you.

“You never knew of those?” König asked incredulously.

“My father never showed me those,” you told him.

“Your father controlled your access to the internet?” König scowled.

“Yeah? Every omega I’ve met uses restricted access devices,” you looked at him as though he’d just grown a second head.

“That’s…” König shook his head, “that’s not right. Look,” he lightly hit the table with his fist, “under this roof, you’re free to do as you please. It’s not my job to control you.”

“But you’re my partner,” you immediately winced.

“I’m not your mate,” König sighed. He tapped his spoon on the table once, twice, then took a deep breath before saying, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. I never wanted a mate. It’s too… It’s risky, in this line of work.”

“How come?” you asked.

“Because you could lose me the next time I go overseas,” König explained, “I’m a soldier. I won’t stay here forever. When you lose me, you’ll be matched to another alpha-”

“Or a beta!” you interjected hopefully.

König’s eyebrows knit together.

“You don’t know much about the matching program, do you,” König stated flatly.

“I know enough,” you took a sip of water.

“Well, since you’re an omega O, you’re not likely to get matched with a beta,” König’s lips formed into a line, further exacerbated by a scar that ran back from the left corner of his mouth.

“But my mother was matched with a beta,” you refuted him easily.

“Was your mother and omega O?”

You crumpled into yourself.

“She was an omega A.”

König pointed his fork at you, “Exactly. Omega Os are matched with alphas almost exclusively. So after me, you’ll probably get another alpha. If you’re unlucky, an alpha A, like me.”

You shuddered.

König watched you carefully before turning back to his food.

“So I’m right,” he muttered, “you are scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you retorted, “I just… I don’t know what other alphas are like.”

König frowned as he glanced up at you briefly, “You don’t know?”

“Not really,” you admitted, “I was in an omega only school growing up.”

König’s face fell, “So you have no idea what we’re like.”

You shook your head.

“Well,” König swirled his fork in his pasta, “we’re bigger. Stronger. You know all that though, everyone does.”

“You’re the biggest person I’ve ever met,” you admitted.

König snorted and shook his head, “I get that a lot,” he chewed carefully before swallowing heavily, “anyways, alphas are known to be aggressive, impulsive. Very…” he searched for a word, “primal. Back in ancient times, we were the ones to control territory and protect our people. Nowadays, we’re too head-strong for the modern world. So they use our bodies for labor, and we’re left to deal with these urges ourselves.”

“I know that stuff,” you tried to hide the tremor in your voice, “I watch the news.”

“What, with alphas tearing apart their partners?” König snorted, “half of those aren’t even real. It’s just a media stunt to turn the public against alphas. The same thing happens to omegas too. You’re made out to be weak nymphomaniacs. You see that too, right?”

You nodded.

“Most alphas will never hurt their partners,” König insisted, “ever. We don’t do that. We’re human beings, not monsters.”

“So you won’t hurt me?” you asked hopefully.

“Never,” König determined, “I would never hurt anyone I don’t have to. You, as my legal partner, will never be hurt by me.”

You nodded along. He’d never hurt you, but he’d never hold you close enough to hurt you either. You tried not to let it hurt you, you’d cried for days over your situation, and yet still it stung to hear ‘my legal partner’ instead of ‘my partner’.

You set your spoon down in your bowl with a final clank.

“I guess I’ll speak to you tomorrow?” you asked solemnly.

König looked down at your bowl and then back up at you.

“If you ever need me,” König traced the rim of his wine glass with a finger, “I’m usually in my office when I’m home,” he looked up at you with a heavy stare, “you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

You tore yourself away from his stare to go and clean your bowl. As you walked out of the room, you could feel his stare still lingering on you until you made your way into your bedroom. 

AU Masterlist

[gunnerfc]

Tension’s Rising | Alexia Putellas x Spain!Reader (18+, minors DNI)

Summary: you seem always to be paired with Alexia during national team camps and each time, the two of you can never get along, until one camp where you can’t deal with the captain anymore

WC: 1.6K

Warnings: strap use (r receiving), both R and Alexia are kinda mean (calling each other names like bitch, whore, slut), top alexia, bottom reader

AN: It’s been a while since I’ve written anything smutty (aside from my Aitana fic) so bear with me as I get back into writing smut lol

You looked forward to national team camps since it meant you got to see a lot of your close friends you don't see often while playing in the States. It sucked being away from your teammates for extended periods of time but each camp, you made up for it.

The one thing you despised about national team camps was being roomed with Alexia. You seemed to always be paired with the captain during breaks and each camp she was determined to get on your last nerve. You knew she was doing it on purpose, leaving her clothes on your side of the room, listening to loud videos (mostly games of whoever you would be playing) with no headphones, among other things. When you asked some of your fellow teammates, those who also played with Alexia in Barcelona, they looked at you as if you were crazy. The actions you had described not matching the closed-off persona they knew Alexia to have.

Why she decided to act this way with you, you weren’t sure. However, you were determined to finally tell the captain off for her behavior. You were one of the last to arrive at camp, having a longer flight than most of your teammates. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes when you picked up your rooming assignment, once again seeing your name next to Alexia’s. Once you had made it to the elevator and you were alone, you groaned out loud, not looking forward to next week and having to be in the same room as Alexia. 

When you arrived on the floor where the team would be staying for the next few days, you waited a minute before unlocking the hotel room, bracing yourself for whatever Alexia would have done to the room before you could say anything. Walking into the room you were met with Alexia’s stuff on one of the beds and Alexia’s herself on the other. 

You didn’t speak to the midfielder, choosing to ignore her presence altogether. You rolled your eyes as you threw her things onto her bed before quickly unpacking your things. 

“Are you not gonna speak?” you heard from behind you as you got your training kit out for tomorrow. You mocked her quietly before turning around to give her a tight smile before muttering “hola.”

You turned back to your things and as you continued, the video Alexia had been watching got progressively louder. You knew if you didn’t say anything now, on the first night, you wouldn’t for the entire camp.

“Can you please not be such an inconsiderate bitch? For one camp I would like to be able to relax in my room without having to clean up after you or listen to your annoyingly loud games. Is that too much to ask for?” you snapped at the blonde, not backing down from finally confronting her. 

You watched as shock graced Alexia’s features, though it was quickly replaced with a smug look. You had to shake your head to rid your thoughts of how attractive your captain looked at the moment, you were dead set on seeing this through. 

“You shouldn’t speak to your captain like that, you know,” Alexia taunted as she sat up on her bed to fully face you. The blonde moved so she was now sitting on the side of the bed, her body closer to you than wanted at the moment. 

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the matter at hand, but you couldn’t deny just how hot Alexia was, even when she did the simplest of things. You turned back to your things that were on your bed, your back now facing Alexia. You could hear her moving around but refused to turn around. 

You felt her standing right behind you, her warm breath hitting your neck. You felt your heartbeat pick up as her hands came to rest on your waist, pulling you flush against her front. 

“Speaking to your captain that way should be punished, bebita,” Alexia whispered in your ear, pressing as close to you as humanly possible. 

It was now that you felt the strap on that she was packing. The thought of her wearing a strap while waiting for you almost made you moan but you held it in. Alexia’s hands on your waist sipped under your shirt and you let out a small gasp at her warm hands on your cool skin. 

Alexia’s hands traced up and down your sides, moving to rest just under the bottom of the sports bra you were wearing. Before you could process what was happening, Alexia’s hands were off your body and she had taken a small step back. You missed the warmth of her body immediately as you turned to face her.

The blonde was still wearing the same attractive smirk as she watched your chest move up and down rapidly. Without thinking, your hands found her neck and you were pulling her into a deep kiss. Your lips moved against each other, tongues exploring the other’s mouth. Alexia moved her hands to have one on your hip and the other resting on your ass. She gave both a squeeze and you didn’t fight back the moan this time. You were glad Alexia’s mouth was on yours, preventing the moan from being louder. 

With your lips still connected, Alexia guided you toward the desk that was in the hotel room. You pulled away for a quick intake of air before leaning back in but Alexia had other plans as her hands left your shirt from your body. The midfielder was quick to strip you completely naked before doing the same to herself. You didn’t have time to take in her naked form as Alexia’s hands were once again on your hips, turning you around so you were bent over the desk.

You moaned quietly as you waited for her to do something, this was not what you had pictured in your head when you thought about finally telling her off. One of Alexia’s hands moved between your thighs, tracing a finger up and down your right thigh, getting closer to where you needed her each time.

“You’re so wet already, bebita. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” you could hear the smirk as she spoke.

“You’re such a whore,” you heard her mumble in your ear which was followed by a small chuckle as you moaned.

You couldn’t think of a sarcastic response in time before you felt the tip of Alexia’s strap push into you. You braced yourself on the desk, your body involuntarily pushing back against Alexia as she bottomed out inside you. Alexia had a tight grip on your hips as she let you get adjusted to the size of her strap on. 

Her thrusts started slow and easy before she couldn’t handle it anymore. Alexia was trusting into you quickly and the only sounds filling the room were your moans and the sound of your skin hitting each other. 

“F-faster, por favor,” you choked out as best as you could in between moaning. 

One of Alexia’s hands left your hip to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulled your head back slightly. Her thrusts sped up as she angled her hips slightly to push deeper into you. The blonde leaned down some to leave harsh bites along your neck and the back of your shoulders. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching and you knew you weren't going to be able to last much longer. 

“You wanna cum, slut? Wanna make a mess all over my cock?” Alexia husked into your ear before biting your earlobe. You let out a small cry before you repeatedly moaned “sí” in response to her question.

Alexia let go of your hair to hold on to your hips again as she continued to pound into from behind. “Go ahead, bebita, make a mess on my cock.” the blonde groaned from behind you, her grip tighter than it was before. You were sure there would be some bruising there tomorrow.

With a loud moan, you came all over Alexia’s strap, your eyes tightly closed as you fell apart. Alexia kept thrusting in you as you reached your orgasm, helping you get through it. Her hips eventually slowed before coming to a stop. You whined as she pulled out of you and you could still feel your core pulsing from the simulation. 

You struggled to catch your breath for a few minutes, Alexia handing you a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. You gratefully accepted the water, not trusting your voice without it. You sat the bottle on the desk you were bent over before standing to face Alexia. 

The blonde was still wearing the same smirk as her eyes looked you up and down, pausing to look at the wetness that had run down your thighs. When she met your eyes again you could see you weren’t done for tonight, Alexia still wanting to “punish” you for how you spoke to her. 

While this wasn’t how you pictured the conversation going, had you known it would have resulted this way, you would have snapped at the captain a lot sooner. You kept these thoughts to yourself, letting Alexia guide you to her bed, letting her have her way with you the rest of the night.  

You weren’t sure if this would change her behavior during camp, but if not, you would just have to keep snapping at her so she could continue giving you orgasm after orgasm as “punishment.”

[mylovelies-docx]

Love Bites (But So Do I)

🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL MY SPOOKY, HORNY BITCHES 🎃

I'm finally participating in Kinktober, but it's literally the last day and it's whatever the fuck I wanted to write.

Pairing: Innocent!Vampire!Reader x Werewolf!Bucky

Plot: Reader is suffering from hunger pangs due to national blood shortage. Bucky offers a solution.

C/W: 18+ MDNI!!! (I am so for serious). Loss of virginity, age gap (Reader is late 20's), what’s the name for blood drinking?, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub, knotting, cock-warming, fluff, resolution of mutual pining.

Vampirism is cool and all, but it also fucking sucks sometimes.

Like during a national blood shortage.

You’d been turned only a couple of years ago around the time of your 25th birthday. You can’t quite recall what happened, as everything around the event is distorted in your memories. All you know is that you were on a mission with some of the other Avengers one second, and then the next you were lying in the med bay with an intense craving for blood.

Everyone was surprisingly accepting of your new ‘condition’, with the exception of one person.

Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t on the mission where you were turned into a vampire, so he had no idea what he was walking in on when he stopped by to visit you in the med bay. You distinctly remember the look of worry and confusion on his face when he peered through the window and saw you strapped down onto the bed. You’d given him a forced, awkward smile and turned your head away, not able to look him in the eye.

You heard the door to your room click open and Bucky began to call your name, but then he inhaled sharply, unable to finish his question. You turned your head slightly and peeked back at him. You could tell immediately that Bucky’s werewolf senses had picked up on the change in your DNA, his instincts telling him that you were now his enemy.

You leaned your head back against the bed and closed your eyes, devastated that Bucky hated you before you could even have a proper conversation with him. You’d been on the team for a few months at that point, only really developing surface level friendships with everyone. They were all welcoming enough, but your anxieties prevented you from letting anyone in.

With your eyes closed, your other senses were able to accommodate for the loss of sight. The gust of wind from Bucky opening the door rushed up your nose, and a heady, intoxicating scent lit up your brain. Your eyes popped open and you stared at Bucky, noticing his heavy breathing and his pulse pounding against the arteries in his neck. Your mouth watered at the smell of him, divine and irresistible in a way that no one else had been up to that point.

A choked keening had erupted from your throat, your wrists and ankles straining against the bonds holding you down. You twisted and pulled, trying to break free and make a run for Bucky, but he’d immediately sensed your desire to drink his blood. A shutter fell into place over Bucky’s face, masking any expression that might have been there. He sucked in one final deep breath and slammed the door to your room, storming down the hallway and away from you.

As soon as you could no longer detect Bucky’s scent in the air, your mind cleared somewhat and you were able to realize just how out of control you had acted and how embarrassed you were at your actions. But you were also unable to stop imagining running after him and sinking your teeth deep into the flesh of his throat. 

Slamming your head a few times onto the bed underneath you, you cursed yourself. Bucky barely even liked you before, but now he probably despised you – not just for what you were, but for how you acted, as well. You’d gotten off on the wrong foot with him to start, but then you’d stumbled hard and crossed a line by almost ripping your arms to pieces in order to get to him.

You’d never been able to look people in the face or hold eye contact for very long, but it’s especially true when it comes to Bucky. You’re not exactly sure why it is that your heart races and butterflies fill your stomach, but the feelings bubble up and prevent you from speaking and make you uncomfortable in your own skin. This happens every time you meet someone new or are with people you don’t really know, but the sensations that flood your body when Bucky is around are 100x worse than anything you’d felt for anyone before.

You’d realized in that hospital bed that whatever you’d felt for Bucky prior to becoming a vampire had changed, had become almost unbearable. His scent never left your thoughts and your mind always drifted off to think about Bucky: what he was doing, where he was, who he was with. Your eyes would darken and turn red, fangs lengthening when you imagined him with anyone other than you. 

It’d taken you weeks to recover your sanity completely. You’d drained bag after bag after bag of blood, never feeling completely satiated, but unable to find out why. Some members of the team visited in those weeks to determine if you were safe to be around, and although the aroma of their blood wafted through the air and surrounded you, you never reacted to any of them the way you had to Bucky that first day. Dr. Cho had decided that you were no longer a threat after your successes, so she’d allowed you out of your restraints. You were finally able to walk the halls again and explore the compound. 

Though the sunlight wouldn’t kill you (discovered during Dr. Cho’s studies), your skin would prickle and start to burn after prolonged exposure, so you tended to avoid the daylight. You’d wander the halls after everyone had turned in for the night, lamenting the fact that you could really only spend the evenings with them all before they needed to sleep. 

You’d catch whiffs of Bucky as you stalked the night, your pulse racing and endorphins fizzing through your veins, but he never appeared. Bucky kept his distance from you for nearly a full year after you’d nearly attacked him. You couldn’t blame him. He’d been tortured enough in his life, he didn’t need the added stress of you trying to suck him dry every time he entered the same room as you.

It took some time, but you were finally able to cohabitate the same spaces with him again. Even though your mouth watered and your hands longed to reach out and grab him, you refrained. You kept yourself distant in order to make him more comfortable with your presence even though nature meant for your two species to hate each other.

You understood why Bucky had such a vehement reaction when he smelled you for the first time after your transition; walking the streets of New York, you’d catch of whiff of wet dog and dirty sock, immediately identifying werewolves as they prowled the streets, their stench clinging to your nostrils and turning your stomach. You’d grimace and walk away as fast as you could in search of clean air not polluted with the presence of werewolves. If grody socks and dirty mongrel was what you perceived werewolves to smell like, you can’t imagine what Bucky must smell emanating from you.

The only thing that doesn’t make sense is that you’d never found Bucky’s scent displeasing: in fact, the fresh, pine scent drove you crazy and had your body begging to be near him despite knowing that he’s a werewolf. You feel insatiable whenever he’s around, needing to consume blood soon after in order to calm the raging hunger within you.

Your mouth waters at the thought of the hot liquid filling your mouth and sliding down your throat, warming your insides and sending shivers all the way down to your toes. It’d been nearly a full day since you’d last tasted the savory red substance. 

A nation-wide disaster the Avengers had handled yesterday required the hospitals to use up most of their stores of blood, leaving you feeling guilty for even thinking about taking the life-saving liquid for your own benefit. All the Avengers were out celebrating a job well-done and the prevention of more death and destruction that would have occurred had you all not been there to help. 

The fight yesterday had taken everything out of you, and you were unable to drag yourself from the couch where you had collapsed earlier in the day. Your head is spinning and your muscles are weak from the lack of  blood in your system. Some of the others had offered you their blood to help you feel better, but you’d declined and told them to go out and donate it to one of the blood banks that were in desperate need.

You’d never drank directly from a person in the years since you’d become a vampire, choosing instead to avoid the intimacy that must come along with the action. Holding someone’s wrist in your hands as you clamp down on their radial artery, nuzzling your face into the crook of their neck and sucking a mark around the two perfect puncture holes from your fangs – it just felt overwhelming.

And besides, the only person you could even imagine suckling from was Bucky and he’d never offer you his blood, regardless of whether it was in a bag or straight from the source.

You groan as your stomach contracts in on itself, the emptiness feeling as if there’s a black hole inside of you and you’re going to be consumed from the inside out. You feel foolish for turning your friends’ offers away, but there’s no way you’d have kept them from enjoying themselves after everything they went through yesterday. You can only hope that Dr. Cho is able to procure something for you in the morning or else create some alternative to the human blood that sustains your life force.

You’re curled in the fetal position on the couch, clutching your stomach and trying to think of anything else besides this nauseating hunger you feel. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut and your face scrunches in agony. You moan once more, unable to hold it in.

All of a sudden, your senses detect the presence of another person in the compound – a door in the residential wing swishing open and the pad, pad, pad of socked feet walking towards you. The sweet, fresh smell of a pine forest after a spring shower wraps around you, easing the pain enough for you to open your eyes and witness Bucky walk into the living room and find you lying there. His face contorts momentarily, but then smooths back out.

“Y/N?” he questions. You whine at the timbre of his voice, the rich sound penetrating your eardrums and burrowing into your veins. “What’s wrong?”

You wince as another hunger pang claws through your gut.  “I’m –” you whisper hoarsely. “I’m hungry. So hungry.”

“Hungry?” he asks. “What about the blood you keep in stock?” Bucky walks over to the hospital-grade equipment in the kitchen behind you, looking for a blood bag you know isn’t there. You hear him open and close the door, quickly ascertaining that there is nothing to be found within. Bucky quickly walks back over to you and crouches a few feet from the couch. “Where did it all go?”

A red-tinted tear falls from your lower lashes, leaving a pink streak along your cheek. “The… the civilians,” you murmur quietly. Even with Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he has to lean closer to hear what you say. “They n-needed it more th-than me.”

“Shit,” Bucky mutters under his breath. A determined look comes over his face as he rolls up his sleeve. He holds his wrist in front of your mouth and barks out a command. “Drink.”

You barely find the strength to shake your head at him in refusal. “No,” you whine. “I’ve never… I can’t…”

“Yes,” he growls, “you can. And you will.” Bucky stretches his mouth wide and rolls his head on his neck, transforming his normal human teeth into the incisors of a wolf. He bites down onto the center of his wrist, tearing open his vein and shoving it back in your face. “Drink.”

Your bloodlust overtakes you at that moment. The warm, coppery blood seeps down his wrist and beads onto the sofa beside your head. Your hands move of their own accord, your mind fighting a losing battle with your instincts. You grasp Bucky’s wrist and wrap your parched lips around the gaping wound. You lick and suck where Bucky’s teeth had torn apart his own flesh. At the taste of Bucky’s blood hitting your tongue after years of craving it, a pleasured whimper crawls up your throat and forces its way between your parted lips against his flesh.

Buck’s metal arm reaches around and cups the back of your head, holding you in place as you continue to feed from him. “That’s right, doll,” he says. “Take as much as you need.” You feel the cold pressure of his hand as he strokes your hair away from your face. “Fuck. Been waiting for this. For you.”

The words send a shiver through you and you would have happily stayed right where you were for the rest of eternity, but the mouthfuls of blood have quickly turned into a trickle. You whine at the realization, running your tongue over Bucky’s wrist to confirm that his wound is healing too rapidly for you to continue drinking. You cry and raise your eyes up to Bucky’s, tasting his blood that had dribbled down your chin as you lick your lips.

“It’s –” you try. “You’re not…”

Bucky curses once again. “I heal too fast and the vein is too small for the amount of blood you need.” 

He takes a hair tie from his pocket and quickly runs his fingers through his hair, gathering it all into a bun at the back of his head. Bucky rises swiftly and picks your body up into his arms. He cradles you against his chest as he settles quickly on the couch and places you in his lap. He circles one arm around your back to hold you upright and uses his other to guide your mouth to his throat.

“Bite,” he commands.

You whimper at the authority in his voice, but shake your head. “I’m okay,” you plead. “I – I don’t know how –”

“It’s instinct,” he replies harshly. “You do know how.” He takes your head and pushes your face further into his neck. “Bite me. Now, Y/N!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you cry, resting your forehead against his skin and struggling to maintain the hold you have on your sanity when Bucky’s pulse is thrumming just under his skin. It’s right there. So close you can hear the blood as it rushes through his veins. This is the closest you’ve ever been to Bucky and his scent is beginning to drive you insane. You pant heavily against his throat, exhausting yourself from the effort of holding back.

Bucky releases a sigh and a sliver of tension leaves his muscles. The hand against your back strokes up and down, settling your body as it shivers against his. 

“You won’t hurt me,” he says. “If I use my claws, the cut will be too big and I'll bleed too fast. Your teeth are so small, I won’t even feel them,” he soothes.

You hesitate for a moment before saying, “... you promise?”

“I promise, baby,” he hums.

The softness of his words is all it takes to tear down your defenses. You suck in a breath and bare your fangs. They sink into the skin right above his jugular and you feel the slight pop as you pierce its wall. Blood gushes into your mouth and you feel something inside you pop open just like Bucky’s vein. 

All of the sudden, you become acutely aware of everything Bucky.

The rhythm of his heart as it pumps blood through his body and into yours, his breaths as they leave his mouth, the sounds he makes as you suckle at his neck – as if he’s enjoying every second of having your lips at his throat and sucking the blood as it floods into your mouth in time to the pulse of his heart. You can feel your own heart race to match his, beat for beat.

You moan at the sensation and pull harder against Bucky’s neck. Needing to be closer, you swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, hooking one arm around his shoulder and the other around the back of his head.  You feel Bucky’s hands grasp your hips as he holds you tight to his body. 

Involuntarily you roll your hips against him, rubbing your covered core over the bulge in his jeans. The action elicits a groan from Bucky and the contact sends an electric current through your body, forcing your hips to seek more friction. You continue to grind against Bucky’s crotch, your panties becoming soaked and leaking through your shorts and onto his jeans. 

You continue to draw from Bucky’s neck as he begins to thrust against you in response to your motions. You moan at the extra pressure against your mound and work harder to match his rhythm. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Bucky groans. “Using me so well to work that sweet little clit.” You whimper against his neck and brace one arm on the back of the couch, gaining leverage and moving your hips faster against him. “You gonna cum like this, darlin’?” He pants into your ear. “Gonna cum when I haven’t even touched you yet?”

At his words, you release your fangs from his throat and take big, heaving breaths. You pull away and stare down into Bucky’s eyes, his pupils dilated and staring deep into your own. You lean down quickly, capturing his lips with your own like you’ve dreamed of doing for so long. Bucky returns the kiss feverishly, working his tongue between your lips and delving into your mouth. You continue to grind yourself against Bucky until you’re nearly delirious with lust and feel a tight knot forming between your legs.

Bucky’s fingers snake between your bodies and pull the fabric of your shorts and panties aside so that he can run his fingers along your soaking slit.

“What a good girl,” he growls. “Already so wet for me.”

He nudges one finger at your entrance and you keen at the pressure of his thick finger trying to enter you. You huff against his mouth, trying to relax and allow his finger entry.

“’s okay, sweetheart,” he breathes against your throat as he trails wet kisses from your lips down to your shoulders. “’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You nod your head feverishly and lean backwards, changing the angle of your hips so that his finger has more access. It slips inside and your pussy clenches hard around it, not used to anything filling you so full. You cry out in pleasure as he crooks his finger against your walls with what little room he has.

“Goddamn, you’re so tight,” he huffs. “Have you not done this before?” Bucky questions you, using his free hand to pull your face back towards his so that he can kiss you once before letting you respond. 

You shake your head no and cry out again as he withdraws his finger and plunges it back into you. He continues to massage your walls while he pulls his finger in and out, in and out.

“Then is this okay, baby? Do you like this?”

“Yes! Yes, Bucky! I – I love this.” 

He sucks your bottom lips between his teeth and holds it there for a second before letting go. “Let me see how much you love it, Y/N. Come on, cum for me.”

“Uh, ah, I’ve never –” you half confess before stopping yourself by biting your lip and throwing your head backwards.

“You tellin’ me you’ve never let yourself orgasm, pretty girl?” he asks you. “What a tragedy,” he growls against your neck, finger still working between your legs as he slowly tries to fit another one inside you.

“Unh,” you whine in time with his finger thrusts, feeling the stretch of your hole as the slick from your core coats his hand and allows his second finger entry. You gasp at the sensation of his two thick fingers inside of you and the heel of his hand against your clit. The knot in your stomach feels as if it’s stretching as tight as it can go, pulling and straining to be undone. You work your hips in time with Bucky’s hand, trying to get him deeper inside you where your body screams for more.

“But don’t worry,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll take care of that right now.”

Bucky’s other hand comes up and pinches your erect nippled through your shirt. The sharp sizzle of pain morphs into pleasure as he surges through your nerves and rips the knot in your core apart. Your hips freeze and your knees lock tight against Bucky’s hips, every muscle in your abdomen clenching and your walls bearing down on Bucky’s fingers. 

“That’s a good girl,” he breathes. “Look at you cumming all over my hand.” His words send another blade of pleasure to your core and you squeeze his fingers tighter. “You like when I talk to you, baby?” Bucky asks. “You like when I tell you you’re a good girl?” Bucky chuckles at the realization that his words cause your pussy to work his fingers harder.

“Does my sweet, pretty girl want to cum on my cock?” He wonders, tracing a finger down the side of your face and then slipping it into your mouth. You instinctively suck on his digit, lathing your tongue around the tip. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath when you nip at his finger with one of your fangs.

“Dirty girl,” he teases as he takes his finger from your mouth. He grabs your chin and looks into your eyes again. “Will you let me fuck that tight little pussy of yours?”

You moan and nod your head. “Yes! Yes, Bucky – please!” you cry out.

With a wolfish grin, Bucky grabs the back of your thighs and holds you up as he carries you out of the living room and towards his bedroom. You notice two little pinpricks of blood where your fangs had been earlier, the skin already healing over. You lower your mouth back to Bucky’s throat and lick his skin clean. Bucky bounces you in his arms and kisses your lips forcefully as he finally arrives at his room.

He crawls with you up the bed until your head is nestled on his pillows and his body covers yours completely. The warmth of him encompasses you and his scent surrounds you where it pours from his sheets and clothing scattered around the room. Bucky’s bedroom smells just like him, like being sheltered by a grove of pine trees as the sun rises in the sky after a long, dark night. 

 Bucky slides his hands under your shirt and pushes it up your chest, kissing your breasts as they’re exposed. You hum at the warm, wet kisses he places on your nipples before he pulls the shirt over your head and up your arms. Next, he kisses your lips and slowly makes his way down your body, leaving a trail of warmth in the wake of his lips as he reaches the waistband of your shorts.

His fingers curl around the elastic and tug them down, down, down, your legs. Bucky sits back on his haunches, your shorts and panties dangling from the end of his fingers. You reach to cover yourself with your hands, never having had anyone look at your naked body before. 

His glacier blue eyes lock onto yours and freeze you in place. Bucky shakes his head once, telling you to stop hiding yourself from him. You slowly pull your hands away, not exactly sure what to do with them now that they don’t have a purpose.

Bucky hums in content at seeing your naked body lying on his bed, wet and ready for him. He slides backwards off the bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. Your face heats as he whips his shirt over his head, exposing his solid chest and torso. He reaches for the button of his jeans and slowly undoes the fastenings. He watches your eyes widen when his cock springs free, finally relieved of its confinement. 

You can’t take your eyes away from Bucky’s dick as it stands at attention, the pink tip weeping liquid. You quickly glance up at Bucky’s face, and see amusement flicker in his eyes.

“I don’t th-think…” you stammer.

“Oh,” Bucky rumbles. “It’ll fit.”

Bucky positions himself on top of your body again, pulling your legs apart so that he can nestle his hips between yours. You feel as his warm, hard length rests between your lower lips and up onto your mound. He’s so big that you could wrap both hands around him and there would still be leftovers. You swallow hard and look up into Bucky’s eyes as he hovers over you. 

“Are you sure?”

He leans down and presses a hard kiss to your lips. “I’m sure.”

Bucky guides his tip to your entrance, coating the head with your juices. He slides it up and down your slit, notching it against your clit and sending shocks to your core. You slowly bring your knees up and wrap your feet around the small of Bucky’s back, reaching your hands to grab onto Bucky’s metal wrist where he has it placed above your head. You look into his eyes as a smile graces his lips.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your body shivers at the compliment and you smile shyly back at him. Bucky takes the head of his cock and slowly notches it into you, pausing at your gasp of air. “Relax, doll,” he says as he leans down to kiss you. You melt into the kiss, allowing your legs to relax slightly and your walls to open enough for Bucky to slide in a couple of inches.

His cock is thicker and longer than his fingers and your body is unsure what to do with so much of it inside you. You whine against Bucky’s lips, the stretch and pressure unfamiliar. 

“It’s okay, baby; you can take me.”

You nod and consciously relax your pelvic floor, imaging the muscles loosening up and allowing Bucky inside. You can feel the effects immediately, Bucky’s hips closing the gap and the tip of his cock lodging deep inside you, the notched head putting pressure against a point inside you that forces all the air to leave your lungs. You suck in a sharp breath as Bucky fully sheaths himself inside you, barely believing that his entire length rests within your walls.

“That’s it, doll,” Bucky commends your efforts. “Told you you could do it.”

You smile at him earnestly, proud of yourself for taking all of him inside of you at once. He brings his flesh hand up to your face and pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. “I’m gonna move now, okay? You ready?”

“Yes,” you breathe. Your heart pounds in your chest as Bucky slowly slides from you until he’s almost completely out. Then, in one smooth motion, he presses back inside, the head rubbing against the spot that made you lose your breath when he entered the first time. You stare into each other’s eyes as Bucky continues to rock into you, his hips meeting yours with every press forward.

You can’t help but sigh at the sweet pleasure that builds from Bucky’s measured pace. You unwind one hand from Bucky’s metal wrist and reach for his face, closing your eyes and capturing his lips in an ardent kiss. The feeling of him moving inside you is nice, the coil from earlier returning to its place inside your core.

You cry out suddenly when Bucky’s next thrust enters you with more force than his previous ones. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, seeing the heat of your cheeks spread down your neck. He smirks and slams into you again, harder. Your eyes widen and your breath rushes out with the thrusts, your walls constricting around him with the repeated motion.

“You like that?” he questions, thrusting hard into you again. You gasp when he picks up speed and force, slamming into you over and over again. “I said: do you like that? Answer me.”

“Uh”-thrust-“huh”-thrust- you answer, your affirmation being knocked out of you as Bucky slams into your core. The rapid, harsh thrusts have the ridges and veins of Bucky’s cock sliding against your walls, and you can feel every single one of them tightening the coil inside of you until it is stretched tight once again. Bucky continues to thrust, taking you higher and higher and higher until there’s no room left inside of  you that your emotions seep from your eyes, your pink-tinged tears from pleasure rather than pain this time.

You gasp for breath repeatedly, listening to the wet sounds of Bucky thrusting in and out of you, the moans and muttered praises falling from his lips. 

“So good for me.”

“You take me so well.” 

“Look at you, crying over my cock because it’s making a mess of your sweet little cunt.”

The praise sends you soaring, you can’t help but whimper and sob into Bucky’s mouth as he keeps his face close to yours, making sure that you like everything he does to your body, monitoring your cries of pleasure to make sure he’s doing the best he can.

The coil begins to fray and snap. You begin to tense up, the sensations becoming too much.

“I think,” you moan, “I’m gonna…!”

Before your body completely lets go, you feel Bucky snarl into your neck and bite down hard with his incisors. You feel a flood of endorphins rush from Bucky’s mouth and travel through your body, pooling in your core and lighting the coil on fire. You cum hard on Bucky’s cock, liquid gushing from you. Your mind goes completely blank as your body shudders and shakes against Bucky’s, your pussy sucking him in as if it will never let him go. Buck retracts his teeth from the mark on your neck, licking his tongue over the puncture wounds. 

“Oh, fuck yes, baby girl. Look what I did to you – no one else will ever make you squirt like I do. No one will ever touch you. You’re mine, baby. No one else’s. I’m never letting you go.”

You stare down in enraptured surprise as you feel Bucky’s cock suddenly swelling inside you, locking him in place. He’s buried to the hilt and you feel a bulging just inside your entrance, preventing him from thrusting any more. Bucky groans loudly in your ear and you feel warmth and extra pressure against your walls, filling you to the brim with Bucky’s cum.

 Bucky leans down and nuzzles into your neck, placing tired kisses against where he’d bitten you. “Mine,” he growls. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine,” he commands.

Your eyes drift closed as the after effects of your orgasms and Bucky’s mark leave you breathless and blissed out. “Yours,” you murmur. “Always.”

Bucky flips you both over, his knot keeping you firmly locked together, unable to separate even if you wanted to (which you don’t). He lays you gently on his chest and holds your face in both of his hands. He wants you to look at him, but your eyes are so heavy that you can barely lift them.

You hear Bucky’s low voice as you drift off to sleep, but the words don’t make any sense.

“My mate.”

***

Your eyes snap open at the feel of soft lips against your forehead, then your nose, then eyelids and cheeks, and finally against your own lips.

You pull away immediately, hands covering your mouth in absolute horror. The previous night comes rushing back to you when you sense the heaviness of a mark on your neck and the aching pulse between your legs. Bucky looks up from where he lays beneath you, his expression turning puzzled and then quickly alarmed at your words.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to. I can’t believe –” you gasp out, placing your hands over your entire face and scrambling away in embarrassment. “I don’t know what came over me. I told you. I’ve never done that before, I didn’t know that would happen. I – I must have hypnotized you or something!” you cry out. “I didn’t know that was something I could do! I'm so sorry. I never should have –”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, rushing to sit up and pull your hands away from your face, tilting your chin up until you’re looking at him. There’s a tender look on his face that you’ve never seen before, as if he’s dropped all of his walls with you. Your heart shatters at the realization that you’ve made him do things he never wanted to.  

His eyes soften, almost as if he could understand your thoughts just by looking into your eyes. He tries to get you to calm down, to regulate your breathing by taking in deep breaths of his own, but you’re too full of anxiety and self-loathing for it to work.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you. “We didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“How is that possible?” you sob helplessly, trying your best to divert your gaze from his. “You don’t even like me. You’ve never liked me and especially not after I became a vampire. I mean, you’re a werewolf! You hate me. You couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me for a year.” 

“Shhh,” Bucky soothes. “When did I ever say I hated you?”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your breaths continuing to heave in and out of your chest, but your heart somehow calms of its own accord. You feel its beat echoing around you and you realize that Bucky’s heartbeat is working to calm yours, his eyes peering into your own while his hands rub up and down your arms in a soothing motion. “I – we’re enemies,” you say quietly. “Vampires and werewolves have always hated each other.”

“Do you hate me?” he questions, turning your face so that you’re looking at him once again.

You hesitate for a moment before shaking your head softly. “No.”

“And I don’t hate you,” he states, raising a hand and softly stroking your hair.

“But you…?” You try to make sense of what Bucky’s saying. “You can’t stand me. You avoided me after – after I…”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you,” Bucky murmurs. “I knew that if I was around you, I would do something I would regret.”

“...like kill me?” you wonder.

Bucky’s lip quirk into a small smile and he chuckles at your question. “No, Y/N. Not kill you.”

“Then what…?”

“After you were turned,” Bucky begins. He pulls his hand from you and clasps your hands within his, gently stroking your skin with his thumbs. You watch, entranced, as his fingers move over your skin. “I realized something as soon as I walked into your room in the med bay and scented you for the first time.” He tugs on your hands until you look up into his face. He smiles softly down at you with a look of pure adoration and love. “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

You stare at him in confusion. There’s no way – that’s not possible. “How… How is that possible? Are you sure I didn’t hypnotize you into thinking that?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. “You didn’t hypnotize me – that’s not real, and you know it.” He moves one hand to your throat, where he caresses his bite mark on your skin with his thumb.  “I don’t know how it happened or why the universe saw fit to bind us together, but it did.” Bucky bends his head and smiles ruefully at you as he continues. “I knew you were going to be special to me the first time we ever met, but you were so quiet and you avoided me like the plague, so I thought you were afraid of me.” 

You feel the anguish coming from Bucky as he thinks back on how you treated him these last couple of years. How your inability to meet his eyes or hold a conversation with him led him to believe that you were frightened to be near him, frightened of him. 

You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on your folded arms. You glance away and say softly, “I’m… I’m not good with people. Sometimes it’s okay, but others… it’s like I forget how to talk to people.” You flicker your eyes to his quickly, but look away just as fast. You raise your fingers to your lips and rub back and forth, a nervous habit you’ve had for years. “If…if I… like someone. It makes it worse.”

“And that’s why you wouldn’t talk to me?” Bucky questions, pulling your hand from your mouth and placing a kiss on the center of your palm.Your face flushes and a small smile flits to your face. You nod your head while looking down at your knees.

“Well,” he says, “I like you,too.” You raise your eyes to see a smile lighting up his face and brightening his eyes. “I always have.”

“You do?” you ask, checking to be sure that Bucky isn’t just saying these things because you slept together after feeding from him. “It’s not because of what I did last night?”

“No, sugar,” he replies. “I’ve wanted to be with you this whole time.” You watch his eyes scan your face, watching your reactions and feeling your emotions through your new bond. “Do you want to be with me? I wasn’t going to mark you without asking first, but my instincts wouldn’t allow you to be so close without claiming you.”

You shyly pull your hair over your shoulder where Bucky’s mark resides. You worry a strand between your hands and look up into his eyes. “I… I like it,” you confess, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest at your bold words.

“Good,” Bucky states. He leans into you and brushes your hair back away from your shoulder, exposing your mark and placing a tender peck against the raised edges. “Because you’re mine.”

You nod and tilt your head to the side, allowing Bucky to trail his lips up and down your throat before he makes his way to your lips. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and meeting with yours. You hum and unfurl your body, climbing into his lap as his hands guide you into straddling his waist.

“I’m yours,” you agree.

“And I’m yours,” he echoes.

________________________________________

So I didn't have time to make the part 2 I was thinking about for this, but it was never a direct continuation anyway.

Hope you enjoyed! 🎃

[ghoulette-knell]

Little Dove

Mountain x Fem!Reader

⛧⛧⛧ Requests are Open ⛧⛧⛧

Swiss is making fun of you for being a virgin, and Mountain decides to help you out with that.

🔞MDNI🔞

TW: Size Difference; Size Kink; Cunnilingus; Fingering (female receiving); Friends with Benefits; Age Gap; Fondling; Aftercare.

Word Count: 7,108

It was a beautiful Sunday evening. Usually, it was seen by Catholics that Satanists would despise Sundays due to the day's religious significance, but that wasn't the case at all. Your ministry was indifferent to them, but you weren't. Sundays were your favourite. It was an excuse to make a coffee, sit in the Ghoul common room by the great window, and read a book as you ended your day. It was your only day off, and you looked forward to it every day of the week.

Of course, you'd never get a moment of silence when Swiss was around. The man thrived on pranking everyone in the ministry, and you were the target of his antagonizations today.

“Poor little (Y/N)! 18 years old, and still a virgin!” the voice of Swiss taunted you from across the room as you sat down in a comfy loveseat with a mug of coffee, “You’re the only Ghoul in the whole ministry who’s never been laid! Why is that? You know Satan rejoices in fucking! Why are you holding yourself back when you know the Olde One wants this for you?"

Mountain, who was also in the room, frowned as he heard Swiss’ words to you. He didn’t like that at all.

You blushed intensely at Swiss' words, almost choking on your coffee as you took a small sip. You coughed lightly, your face beet-red, "W-What are you talking about?" you wheezed, taken aback by the older Ghoul's comment regarding your apparent virginity.

It was so unprecedented and uncalled for… typical Swiss. He really had no filter which made him VERY obnoxious.

“Everyone knows you’re a virgin, sweetheart! It’s the talk amongst us Ghouls,” Swiss continued, “It’s so pathetic, everyone is teasing me for never having gotten into your bed yet! Everyone thinks it’s so strange we haven’t gotten together. I suppose they’re right, aren’t they? So, what’s the hold-up?” he said as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for your response.

Your eyes flickered momentarily over to Mountain. Subconsciously, you were waiting for Mountain. He had been your best friend ever since you were summoned from Hell to join the ministry, and you had fallen in love with him… you didn't know how it happened.

"I'm not interested in you like that, Swiss," you mumbled while taking an awkward sip of your coffee; your cheeks flooding red from embarrassment.

Swiss chuckled, “I find that hard to believe,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, “it’s probably because you’re too shy? Come here. I can help with that.”

Swiss motioned for you to sit on his lap, causing your cheeks to blush even brighter, but Mountain stepped forward with a determined look on his face. The earth-ghoul's tail lashed in aggravation. Swiss had crossed a line.

“Stay away from her, Swiss,” Mountain snarled, “and don’t you ever try to touch her again!” Swiss sneered and turned his attention to Mountain, but kept quiet.

It was obvious that Swiss was intimidated, as Mountain was much larger and stronger than the multi-Ghoul. Swiss was like a child whenever it came to height and body mass compared to Mountain.

You looked up at Mountain from your place in the chair and smiled warmly, gracious that your friend was willing to help you out like that.

"Thanks, Mountain. I appreciate it," you whispered while lightly rubbing Mountain's hand with your pinky.

Mountain squeezed the pinky of your hand and nodded his head, clearly having been affected by your touch in this instance. His expression was serious, but his demeanour was also affectionate... only towards you, anyways.

“Don’t worry about him,” he told you, “We all know Swiss is a creep.”

"I think he's just lonely," you murmured while watching Swiss leave the room, fuming. Of course, Swiss had no defense for his shitty actions, "That's why he picks fun at me being a virgin. He just wants companionship and doesn't know how to... verbalize it. He's not a creep. He just needs to recognize that I don't like him like that."

Mountain considered your words carefully as he glanced across towards the door where Swiss had left. It is true, perhaps Swiss really did just want a relationship to fill the empty hole inside his life. It didn't excuse his words, though.

“Well, he’s not acting very nicely, now, is he?” Mountain said, “I hate to see him try to manipulate you with the whole virginity thing, it ain’t right.”

You shrugged and took another sip of your coffee, “I know. I try not to let him bother me though. It’s not worth it. I can’t help it, so why let it bother me? I know I’m the only Ghoul… with my virginity left, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I do a lot of other sinful things to please Lucifer."

Mountain sighed as he listened to the reasoning of your words. You had a point. You were happy being a virgin... or comfortable, rather, and despite the teasing you took from others, you felt content with your situation. There was no reason for him to get upset at your own choices.

“I’m impressed, really. I could never be as confident as you in this same situation,” he said sincerely as he looked down at you.

Your tail flicked slightly as you shrugged, “I don’t really have a choice to not be confident. I can’t change my… situation, and I sure as hell not going to lose my virginity to Swiss. My time will come eventually, I hope.”

“It will, I promise,” Mountain replied with a smile, his demeanour soft and gentle. It wasn’t every day he got to have a heart-to-heart with you, and he wanted to make it worth every moment.

“I just don’t know why the others are so focused on something so trivial,” he said as he brushed a small lock of hair away from your eyes, “It shouldn’t matter.”

Your face lit up subtly as Mountain lovingly pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. You leaned into your friend’s touch, sighing in contentment, “You always understand me, Mountain. Thank you for your words.”

With those words, something within Mountain seemed to break. He had felt this way for too long, he couldn’t keep pretending that it was going to go back away, he needed to say something. The earth-ghoul felt like a bottle of pop that had just received a line of mintos... he was about to explode.

“I want to ask you a question, Little Dove,” he said, now looking directly at you and using the nickname he had given you a while ago, “and I’d like for you to be honest with me in your answer, okay?”

You slowly grasped Mountain’s hand and held it in yours as he spoke. You looked up at him with a small, close-lipped smile, and nodded, “Sure, Mountain. What’s up?”

In that moment, a small, shy grin graced Mountain’s lips as he noticed the close grip you had on his hand. “I may be overstepping a boundary, so again, I want you to be honest with your answer,” he said, “Do you… want me to help you with your virginity issue...?”

You blushed wildly and stared up at your friend, “M-Mountain. That is not what I was expecting you to say…”

You covered your face with your hands to try and block away your blush from your amused friend.

Mountain couldn’t help but grin as he saw the way you were flushed red. His eyes took notice of the pink hue that had overtook your face instantly, a purr vibrating deep in his chest.

“So...is that a yes?” he asked with a coy grin, knowing his offer was most likely a welcome one.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared up at your friend.

“I-I don’t know, Mountain. I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship."

Mountain was glad to see that you did consider your friendship. He respected you and your opinions, after all, you two had been friends for such a long time... ever since you were summoned, anyways. Mountain did not wish to damage the special bond that the two of you shared, as it was equally as important to him as it was for you.

“I completely understand,” he said kindly as he squeezed your hand, “But, just know, the offer still stands if you’re too nervous and want someone you already trust to help you out.”

You squeezed his hand back and peered up towards him. You were so unbelievably nervous, but he was right. There was no one you would rather lose your virginity to than Mountain. You trusted him more than anyone else.

You hesitated for a moment, sensing Mountain’s unease at your silence.

“You’re really willing to help me out?”

Mountain laughed slightly at your nerves. He certainly found your flustered personality adorable, but he also recognized just how tense you had gotten. This was a sensitive topic, and the drummer wished to take it as seriously as possible.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” he said as he squeezed your hand, and his eyes shifted their gaze towards the entrance, looking towards where Swiss had left. “Why don’t we get out of here…”

You squeezed Mountain’s hand and slowly got to your feet; abandoning your now-cold coffee on the table, alongside your book. Your knees were shaking from nerves, but this felt right. You were nervous because this was the unknown. It was like when a mortal had stage fright regarding public speaking, or fear of anesthesia because they'd never had surgery before. You had never done this before, but Mountain would take care of you.

“I’m a little scared,” you whispered while looking up at Mountain as he walked you down the halls towards his quarters, “Will it hurt?”

Mountain smiled at the way you seemed to cling to him, it was adorable in a sense to see just how comfortable you were with him.

“Don’t worry, Little Dove,” he said in a voice filled with affection as he guided you to his room, “I would never hurt you. It may be a little uncomfortable your first time, but it gets much, much, much better afterwards. You’ll see…”

You felt his hand clasp your back affectionately, your nerves beginning to calm as he used your nickname. Little Dove. He always called you that when he knew you were nervous or uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you murmured while gripping onto his sleeve like a frightened child, “I trust you.”

A gentle smile graced Mountain’s features as he guided you into his room, which was only a few steps away from the common room, and closed the door behind the both of you. The room was covered in shadow, save for the soft moonlight streaming in through the window.

“Now, then.” he began, his voice soft and reassuring, “Why don’t you go lay on the bed for me.”

You swallowed nervously and walked over, kicking your shoes off before sitting down on Mountain’s bed. You slowly laid back, your head laying on Mountain’s pillows. You laid still and motionless, still quite nervous.

You couldn't help but marvel over how much larger Mountain's bed was to yours. You only slept in on a twin mattress, but Mountain had at least a king to accommodate his impressive height. You felt so small laying in his bed. Oh, Lucifer... why were you thinking about that right now? That was such an insignificant detail, yet here you were-- dwelling on it.

It was obvious that Mountain would have to guide your every move.

He stood at the side of the bed, taking a seat on the floor as he looked over you, his expression one of care.

“Relax, I promise to take care of you and take things slow,” he said in a comforting and affectionate tone, “Are you comfortable like that or would you like for me to do something to ease your stress? I can turn the light off, if that helps? Or I could lay next to you, if that would make you feel more at ease…”

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, your face softening at how sweet Mountain was being, “Thank you. Just do what you’re doing. I’m fine, I promise. Just a little nervous. I do trust you though.”

You laid your hand on Mountain’s clothed chest, rubbing the surface slowly. Your breathing began to slow down as you grew more comfortable with the situation.

Mountain felt the warmth of your touch as your hand rubbed the surface of his chest. A small smile grew on his lips as he watched your chest expand with your breath. The sound of your breathing was soft and gentle, matching the essence of the moonlight pouring in.

He felt your trust within that moment, a trust that Mountain would protect you and take care of you.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he said softly as he placed his hand on top of where yours was, his hand now innocently resting upon your breast, “How are you feeling?”

You blushed lightly in response to the drummer's touch, “I’m feeling better,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

The lightness of your trust filled Mountain with a warmth that he couldn’t describe. Even in this moment of nervousness and anxiety, he still heard nothing but your calm voice and soft breathing. No words seemed to be needed between the two of you as he lightly rubbed his palm over your chest.

“I am glad you trust me like this,” he whispered back, “I can tell that this is scary for you, but I promise you have nothing to fear. I will take care of you and go at your own pace.”

"Thank you, Mountain," you whispered, barely audible while pressing your lips softly to his knuckles as he lightly rubbed over your chest, "I think I'm ready to start... you can do whatever you need to do. I will follow your lead."

Mountain’s cheeks flushed as you kissed his knuckles, but the sensation only made the moment feel even more intimate. Your trust in him was touching his heart, causing the bond between the two of you to strengthen even more.

“Okay, my Little Dove-“ he whispered back, “I’m going to pull your shirt off of you… is that alright?”

You were still incredibly nervous, but you felt safe at the same time. The way Mountain was verbally walking you through what was happening really made your heart soar with adoration and love towards the older Ghoul.

You nodded your head and relaxed your body, your eyes staring up at Mountain with hazy desire, "Yes, that is okay, Mountain."

As he heard your permission, Mountain took the bottom of your shirt and began to gently pull it up your body. The action made the small hairs on your arm stand up as the fabric of the shirt rubbed against your soft flesh.

He then ran the palm of his hand against your exposed skin, feeling the warmth that your body was radiating through its touch.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Dove."

A soft blush formed over your cheeks as your stomach was exposed to the Ghoul. You still had your bra on, but that quickly changed as you stuck your thumb underneath the strap and pulled it up and over your head, "You're too kind, Mountain," you mumbled shyly while rolling your shoulders slightly, staring longingly up at the earth-ghoul.

Mountain was surprised to see your sudden movement to take off your bra, though he took the opportunity to look upon the gorgeous sight that was your body. His eyes traced your form, looking at every inch of you. Your breasts were a sight for sore eyes; not too big, not too small. They were perfect, and they made the drummer's mouth water.

"You're absolutely stunning," he said softly as he leaned over and took one of your breasts in his hand.

A small, breathy squeak left your mouth as his large, rough hand gently took hold of your breast. You stared up at him, completely enamoured over how slow and gentle he was making this whole experience for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, a blush dusting your cheeks as Mountain began to squeeze a little bit. You didn't really know what else to say besides 'thank you.'

Mountain lightly squeezed the flesh of your breast in his hand, taking notice of the way your chest rose up as your body reacted to the way he was touching you. He wanted his touch to make you feel good. He carefully rolled your nipple in between his calloused fingers.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispered as he lowered himself down to plant his lips upon your neck as he gently sucked along your flesh.

Based on instinct alone, you craned your neck to the side as the demon began to slowly kiss your neck with slow, open-mouthed kisses. Your breathing continued to slow down as Mountain gently licked at your flesh.

“Mmm, Mountain,” you breathily whispered, your tail wrapping around the earth-ghoul’s torso, softly pulling him closer to you.

Mountain’s body seemed to react to the way your tail wrapped itself around him, a light purr escaped his lips as he continued to worship your neck with his mouth. The drummer's breath from his nose made your neck tickle.

The earth-ghoul left a trail of hot, breathless, kisses across your skin as he continued his path down. Slowly, Mountain reached your breast and licked the nipple with his tongue, lightly flicking the tip.

Even though you were a virgin, you weren’t inexperienced. You had touched yourself before (often at the thought of Mountain), but this was beyond any form of self-pleasure. Mountain’s mouth was bliss. No toy could replicate that.

A strangled moan flew from your lips at the sudden stimulation to your hardening buds. Your hands snaked around Mountain’s neck; entangling in his tight curls that clung to his neck, “W-Woah! M-Mounty! Holy fuck!” you exclaimed pleasurably.

To Mountain, the feeling of your hands entangled in his hair made his head feel fuzzy with a sense of bliss and arousal. A small groan escaped from between his lips as you grasped his hair, the sensation making him want to do even more to you. Make you squirm. Make you gasp. Make you moan.

Mountain continued to tease the sensitive bud of your breast with his mouth, switching between sucking and licking as your grip at the locks of his hair seemed to tighten.

Mountain pulled away from your breast and moved his lips to your ear, whispering softly as he gently kissed your earlobe, “You feel good, Dove?” he whispered gently as he ran his fingers lightly across your stomach “You taste delicious…”

“Y-Yeah, I feel really good,” you murmured while slowly dropping your hands from Mountain’s neck; letting them rest on your breasts. You began to pinch at your nipples, giving them slight stimulation due to Mountain’s lips not being on them at the moment.

“Please keep going, Mounty. Please,” you practically begged, beginning to understand Mountain’s comment about how this would feel uncomfortable at first, then amazing… unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Mountain grinned at the sight. You looked so incredibly good like this, and he was going to take care of you.

His hand gently pushed yours aside as he gently squeezed your breast in his hand again, the skin of his fingers grazing over your puckered nipple as he leaned down and kissed you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and his touch turned from gentle to slightly rougher as his tongue lightly wrestled with yours.

This kiss didn’t feel full of lust. Sure, arousal was evident between the two Ghouls, but Mountain kissed you with a sense of love. He wanted you in more ways than just body. Mountain loved you as much as you loved him. He wanted you in body and soul.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses were swapped between the two of you. Your hands slowly abandoned your breasts, and instead went to Mountain’s belt. Your eyes were fluttered shut due to being sucked into this moment with the demon, but you had no trouble undoing his belt.

Mountain felt your hands undoing his belt, and his lips stopped moving in their dance as he parted from the deep kiss, his lips slightly swollen by the intensity.

“Is this going too fast?” Mountain whispered, his tone gentle and soft, his breathing hot and shallow. He wanted to make sure he hadn't scared you at all, though the intensity of the kiss made his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“It’s not for me, Mounty,” you whispered, a bit breathless as he pulled away from the kiss, “Are you okay with this? I know you offered to help me out, but if you don’t want to continue, or this is too fast for you, I won’t be upset.”

You cupped the much larger Ghoul’s face in your hands, placing a small kiss to his flushed cheeks; a smile on your face. Your words were sincere.

Mountain felt the touch of your hands against his flushed cheeks and he felt that warm feeling in his heart. Even though you were nervous and inexperienced at the start, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

Mountain reached up and grabbed your hands that cupped his cheeks, intertwining his fingers into yours. “Of course, I’m okay with this, darling.” he said softly as he squeezed your hands, “I was just making sure you’re still okay with this!”

You squeezed back, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the earth-ghoul’s lips, causing Mountain to blush, “You can continue if you’d like.”

You squeezed Mountain’s hands one more time before slipping them back down to the Ghoul’s belt; slowly slipping it out of the belt loops and throwing to to the floor.

Thud.

Mountain’s heart fluttered as you took off his belt. He could see the desire in your eyes, and it only fueled his lust for more. He needed to feel the other Ghoul from the inside.

“May I take off your pants…?” he whispered as he gently stroked your cheek, his touch tender and sweet. There was still a hint of hesitancy in his movements, as if he was still worried that he was moving too fast.

“Mhm,” you hummed, consenting immediately as you pushed down Mountain’s pants all the way to his knees. You propped yourself up on your elbows; your chest shining in the moonlight as Mountain pulled you to the edge of the bed.

You couldn’t help but stare at the tent that was pitched in Mountain’s boxers. He was… huge.

Mountain stared at the state of you on the edge of the bed, your soft curves and smooth skin on display made him want to keep touching you and pleasing you. The drummer didn’t want to stop.

The Ghoul’s hands gently traced down your body, the rough skin trailing over your bare skin as he knelt in front of you, kneeling between your legs.

Mountain swiftly discarded your pants, and with painful slowness, pulled your panties down as well. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed; your face flushed from the adrenaline rush.

Without a warning, you squealed as you felt something hot and wet lick a strip up your pussy. Your toes immediately curled from the pleasure. It was Mountain’s tongue.

Mountain kept your legs parted as he placed your knees over his shoulders, keeping you spread out before him. His hands gripped your inner thighs, squeezing them gently as his tongue gently licked against the wet folds of your core, causing shrill moans to leave your mouth.

He could taste the sweetness of your wetness, the taste making him want even more. He felt like a horse that had been led to water on a hot, humid day.

“M-Mountain, holy fuck!” you squeaked out while wrapping your legs around the drummer’s neck, keeping his face pressed up and into your cunt, “J-Just don’t stop! -Oh my God- Don’t stop! A-Ah Lucifer!” you moaned out as his forked tongue darted out with such skill.

Mountain felt your legs wrap around his neck as he worked with his tongue to please you. He loved the way you tasted, how sweet and delicious you were. He was in heaven (ironic for a demon, right?), and his tongue seemed to be doing a good enough job at it by the sounds of your moans. He groaned against your pussy, the sound vibrating inside of you.

The Ghoul collected your clit in between his lips, vacuum sealing his mouth to your mound. A strangled moan left your lips; your back arching responsively.

You groaned like an animal in heat as your hips began to slowly move; grinding against Mountain’s swollen lips. Your hands had returned to your chest, and were now roughly pinching your own nipples in time with Mountain’s expert tongue. It hurt in a good way, this overstimulation.

Moan after moan spilled from your lips. This wasn’t a gradual lead up to pleasure; this was immediate.

To Mountain, you looked so incredibly beautiful like this, so lost to the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing to you. It made his heart beat wildly in his chest as he could feel you riding his face, his hands on your hips to help keep you in place.

Your moans and mewls seemed like music to his ears, it gave him an idea… an idea to increase your pleasure even further.

He pulled away from your core and licked his lips, breathing heavily as he looked up at you. His eyes were bright with lust.

“Little Dove, would it be alright if I… slipped my finger inside you?” Mountain asked, the slight edge in his voice evident. He was beginning to grow anxious.

You slowly unwrapped your legs from around Mountain’s neck as you felt him pull away. You panted slightly, your face blushing like a tomato from the pleasure your partner was giving you. Sweat droplets made your face shimmer in the moonlight.

“That sounds very nice,” you whispered in response to the drummer’s question, “Yes, please do whatever you want.”

Mountain could see the look of complete ecstasy on your face as you responded to his question, and it made his heart flutter. He wanted to make you feel good… he wanted to keep going until you were completely satisfied.

With that, he reached up with his hand and gently pushed inside you, the tip of his finger slipping into your pussy. “Is that okay..?” he asked quietly, his breath coming out in a soft pant.

You hummed in pleasure as you felt a tad bit of pressure from Mountain’s rather large digit. Your hips shimmied slightly, trying to create a bit of friction, “Yeah, feels good,” you groaned in confirmation, your head falling backwards as you felt the earth-ghoul begin to move his finger; curling it inside of you.

Mountain began to thrust his finger inside your core, his movements starting out somewhat slow as he looked at you. He wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go with this, and he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Can I add another finger, (Y/N)?” he asked softly, his head rested on your thigh as his finger thrusted inside you slowly. You could feel his hot breath on your thigh, causing goosebumps to cover that area.

“Yes please,” you immediately replied, “Can you also go back to using your mouth again as well? That felt really good, and I feel like it would feel even better with your fingers.”

You were a bit embarrassed to be asking Mountain for such things, but you knew he wouldn’t mind. The older Ghoul was sweet and you knew he cared about you, maybe even more than he cared for anyone else in the band. You knew he wouldn’t mind, and would comply to your request.

Mountain couldn’t help but smile and chuckle slightly at how eager you were to ask (like you knew he would... the cocky bastard), but who was he to deny you?

“Of course I can, Dove. Anything for you…” he whispered as he leaned back down and placed his mouth over your aching, soaked core.

You felt his fingers beginning to move as his mouth returned to that previous position; his fat tongue pulling another scream from your lips. You were right— this combination did feel heavenly.

At first, you were able to just lean back, shut your eyes, and let Mountain work. But, very quickly, the pleasure began to grow, and it grew fast.

You were mewling like a goddamned cat after about 2 minutes of this; your hips aggressively grinding against the much larger Ghoul,

“M-More, please!” you wheezed out, your hands intertwining in his hair. Tears were beginning to prick at your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Mountain was entranced in his actions, watching you writhe on the edge of the bed, pleasured by his fingers and his tongue as they worked to give you that sweet, sweet release you were begging for. He was loving every second of this.

His fingers moved faster inside your cunt, his mouth working in his own pattern around your sensitive flesh. His groan vibrated against you as you ground your hips onto his face. Your tail even made its way to Mountain’s neck; lightly choking him pleasurably as he moved.

As more choked screams left your lips, stars began to dot over your vision. Your jaw hung slack as your body stiffened up; one last breathy moan leaving your mouth before you hit your first orgasm of the night.

Your fingers pulled at Mountain’s hair, likely making his scalp burn, but you couldn’t help it. The pleasure felt like an explosion going off in your head— all you wanted and needed was more.

Mountain groaned loudly against your core as your orgasm hit hard, the tight fingers tangled in his hair pulling at his scalp as you shook with pleasure. He was breathing through his nose while you quaked, holding himself in place as your legs tightly squeezed around his head. He would swallow every last drop that trickled from your clenching hole.

As your body began to relax a bit more, the earth-ghoul’s fingers and mouth pulled away from where they were, a thin string of your juices connecting them as he took a deep breath. His green eyes marvelled at your swollen entrance; unable to hide his satisfaction.

“How was that, darling?” Mountain asked softly, his voice a light and sweet whisper. “Do you want to continue?”

The drummer gently licked his fingers, cleaning them of your juices.

You slowly pulled your head off the cream-coloured pillows and nodded lazily; your face redder than the Cardinal’s cassock, before running a shaking finger through your folds. Your legs jolted roughly— you were so sensitive after such an intense climax.

“Yes, please continue,” you whispered, your chest glimmering in the moonbeams that carefully filtered in through the blinds due to your sweat.

Your eyes drifted down to Mountain’s cock, which was beginning to drip with precum. You were practically drooling at the sight.

Mountain’s chest heaved with his heavy breaths as he saw the effect he had on you. You looked absolutely beautiful with your hair tussled and skin flushed. His own chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat; his arousal growing as he noticed you staring at his dick.

Mountain’s prick twitched.

“You seem to like what you see.” Mountain said softly with a grin.

“Can you blame me?” you asked suggestively while flicking your tail. Your spade-tipped tail wrapped around his length without another word, pumping lightly, “I think I’m ready for… the next part of this. I want you to take me, Mountain. I trust you completely.”

'I want to prove Swiss wrong.'

“No… no, I can’t blame you, (Y/N).” Mountain said; his breathing hitched a bit as your tail wrapped around his length. It was an odd sensation, but one that only added to the burning heat of his excitement.

The drummer leaned up over you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as your tail pumped his member lightly. “Then I’ll take you as gently and slow as possible.” he whispered against your lips.

You slipped your tongue into Mountain’s mouth as he promised to take you gently and slowly. You could taste yourself on his lips which made your hole clench. Your tail, still pumping his immense size, led Mountain’s cock to your soaked entrance, lining it up. You weren’t worried about protection— you didn’t care. You wanted Mountain skin-to-skin. Animalistically. Authentically.

You watched in arousal as Mountain spat in his hand to provide further lubrication. He was much bigger than you were, and even with his impressive oral skills, you still probably weren’t wet enough to accommodate him.

He slowly rubbed his spit covered, pruned digits over your hole, causing your legs to spasm again. So, so sensitive…

Mountain spit on your mound one more time before slotting himself in between your trembling legs. The Ghoul grasped his cock, pumping it a few times before rubbing it lightly against your swollen clit.

“You’re so wet for me, dove,” he whispered, using his thumb to slowly… antagonizing-slowly, massage your little bundle of nerves, “I’ve got the biggest dick out of any of us in the ministry, yet I can tell you’ll take me just fine. If Swiss tried fucking you like this, he’d slip right out. That cocky son of a bitch couldn't make you feel as good as I can.”

Mountain’s calm and patient side regarding your comfort levels was beginning to fade away. He knew you were consenting to this— he had already asked close to a million times. The earth-ghoul could start acting how he wanted to since you wanted it, and frankly, this cocky side of Mountain was hot to you.

Mountain’s tongue met yours in an intimate dance. He could feel your appreciation for him in that kiss, and he was determined to make you feel as loved and cared for as possible. He knew he was special; and so were you.

As his cockhead was lined up against you, it took all his control to not immediately plunge inside you. “Are you ready Little Dove?” he whispered as he looked at you intently, his chest rising and falling as his breath came out in ragged pants.

Your tail slowly unwrapped from around Mountain’s length as he got ready to begin moving. Your hands gripped onto the duvet below, your head rapidly nodding in confirmation, “Definitely ready.”

Your legs were shaking from anticipation. You had never known you’d need something as intensely as you needed Mountain right now. He was the the sunlight to flowers, or the shepherd to the sheep. He was everything to you.

Mountain looked down at you, seeing you trembling with anticipation, with excitement, with need. And it made his heart flutter once again. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before he began to press inside you, a soft groan leaving his lips as he felt how tight, how wet you were. “Oh, D-Dove,” he whispered, the word rolling off his lips in a ragged breath.

You laid there for a few seconds, your face contorted in pleasure as well as mild discomfort due to Moutain’s thickness. It was probably a good thing that he had spat on his hand to create more lubrication. It wasn’t an uncomfortable discomfort though— it felt right. It was apart of it, and you were pleased to get to experience everything for the first time like this.

“O-Oh, Lucifer!” you swore in pleasure as Mountain sunk all the way in, your mound resting against his abdomen. Mountain put all of his weight onto his arms as he leaned over you. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stilled, waiting for your confirmation, “M-Move, please.”

Mountain groaned as he felt himself sink all the way inside you, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the feeling of you surrounding his cock; squeezing it as you breathed. The sound of his name falling from your lips in an almost prayer made his heart flutter.

His self-control shattered at the whimpered plea. ‘Move, please.’ Oh, he’d move. He’d fucking move.

Mountain began to thrust with a slow and steady pace, his breathing coming out in short and ragged pants as he moved over you. His face dropped to the left of yours, his tongue darting out to taste your face.

You slowly wrapped your quivering hands around Mountain’s wrists as he began to slowly thrust deep into you, savouring each movement. It felt biblical… it felt raw and powerful. Squelches due to your wetness echoed through the room, matching the volume of Mountain and your’s growing moans.

You bit your lip as the Ghoul began to speed up; your eyes resting shut from the wave-after-wave of pleasure. You couldn’t even formulate words. All you knew was that you didn’t want your lover to stop. The snapping of his hips was orgasmic; the way his balls began to slap against your ass. The way his dick fit you perfectly. The way the earth-ghoul knew where to strike— hitting your G-spot every single time without fail.

Mountain’s head dipped down against your neck, his breathing warm and ragged against your skin as he began to quicken his pace. His eyes closed as the pleasure consumed him, overwhelmed him, as he moved inside you. Each whimper or mewl you let out only added to his pleasure, and he wanted to hear more.

“Fuck- you sound so beautiful, (Y/N).” he breathed against your skin, his words ragged in between his moans and pants.

You let out unholy noises as Mountain verbally praised you through your fucking. You could feel the drummer's fingers leaving little bruises on your hips as he snapped in and out of you at an increasingly speedy rate. Mountain's body slotted in between your wetted thighs perfectly.

"Deeper!" you commanded while beginning to move your hips in sync with the Ghoul's thrusts, "I need more of y-you, Mountain! Fuck me! Fuck me!" This moment was unlocking a side of you that you didn't know existed.

Mountain groaned loudly as you began to move in sync with his thrusts, his grip on your hips tightening at your words and actions. “ Holy hell… “ he whispered against your neck as he began to pick up the pace more.

Your moans and mewls sounded like they were coming straight from the pits of hell, and the thought of you becoming feral and untamed under his touch sent a shiver down Mountain’s shiver. This was giving the earth-ghoul more adrenaline than any performance with the clergy's band.

“ You want more-? Need more of me? “ he grunted out as he began to thrust into you with a harder force.

Mountain forced his hands underneath your hips in order to angle you downwards, effectively deepening his thrusts as you had requested. A shrill shriek, sounding authentic and similar to those noises you Ghouls made in Hell, left your lips. It sounded alike to a goat bleat and a woman's scream from some cheesy horror film from the 70s.

Your hand trailed down to your swollen clit, stroking it aggressively to optimize your pleasure. You would definitely have to give Mountain back as much as he's giving you right now. Today wasn't the day, though. Today was about you.

"Need m-more of you. Holy Hell, don't stop!" you begged, your voice coming out all pathetic and in a begging manner. You were so incredibly cock-drunk for your partner. Your stomach clenched, and a fiery inferno of pleasure wracked your soul. You were so fucking close.

Lucifer you were beautiful like this— writhing and moaning with pleasure on the bed, a complete mess beneath him.

“Oh- oh Dove..."

Your begging was making his brain short-circuit.

You screamed in pain mixed with pleasure as Mountain sunk his fangs into your collarbone, effectively drawing blood. Your flesh muted his panted words, but you could still make it out. It was in the demonic tongue only you and the other Ghouls could understand.

Amongst the demonic grunts and growls... a simple phrase.

"You are now mine!"

You felt the earth-ghoul explode inside of you. His stamina was still at a peak as he slammed as far into your tight cunt as he could, spilling every last drop into your womb. Curses and obscenities erupted from your lips as you came for the second time today.

Your pussy violently milked Mountain's twitching dick dry. Stars dazzled over your vision as you experienced the most pleasurable and painful orgasm of your life. This was what Lucifer ordered Papa to preach about during his unholy sermons. This was what you had been missing out on. Mountain was what you had been missing out on...

There wasn't a single drop of cum left in the Ghoul's prick by the time your orgasm had passed. Mountain slowly removed his teeth from your flesh, his forked tongue emerging from his cracked and swollen lips to lap up your blood.

"I'm sorry," the earth-ghoul shyly apologized while pulling himself out of your soaking cunt, "I didn't mean to bite you."

Your hands went up and lightly stroked his flushed cheeks. You'd always thought Mountain was beautiful... but now? He was ethereal.

"I don't give a fuck about that," you said while giggling, pressing your lips to his, "You just gave me the best night of my life, and you're apologizing for making me bleed? You're trying too hard, Mounty."

The drummer purred as you used his nickname, his spade-tipped tail swooshing in the air as he slowly got out of the bed.

"Shut up. Just sit there and look pretty while I help you clean up."

Mountain sauntered to his bathroom and returned a minute later with a damp towel and some tissues. He was walking with an intoxicating aura. It was obvious he just fucked and had a good time, which made your chest swell with appreciation. He enjoyed himself as much as you had.

He was walking with the mentality that he had made you feel this good.

Not even Swiss could do that... and Mountain took great pride in that.

[barefoothighlander]

the vow - i

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity

next part masterlist

a/n: @/dinalgo on tiktok posted some hc art of knight!ghost and i’m obsessed, so here’s my interpretation of that except I refuse to write in old English, also points if you catch the references I threw in

The sun shines brightly through the large window, the breeze blowing the trees outside your room, for a small moment, the world is quiet, just the songs of morning birds chirping on the balcony fill your ears, there’s no noise, no worries. 

The moment is quickly ruined by the sound of your maids bustling into the room, arms full of clothing and various tools, you turn your gaze to them slowly,

“Princess, good morning”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, please use my name”

“The Prince requests that we refer to you by your title m’lady”

“Well we wouldn’t want to upset him would we” Your tone is sarcastic as you make your way over to the women, one of them fixes your bed while the other prepares a bath, setting out your clothes. You step into the warm water, soothing a rag over your muscles to clean yourself before one of the ladies takes over, dumping water over your head to wash your hair. You sit for a few minutes in the water, allowing them to work around you, 

“You’re quiet this morning”

“Mm not much on my mind I’m afraid”

“You’re not excited for the festivities?”

“The feast should be nice, I don’t care much for the rest”

“Don’t talk like that” The older woman scolds, Clarice had known you since birth tending to you as a young girl, always by your side while you grew up in court, more a mother to you than your actual mother. “The Prince is handsome, a worthy adversary”

“Yes handsome, but also rude, stubborn, cold, everything I despise”

“With time you will grow to love him”

“I surely doubt that” You scoff

She furrows her eyebrows at you, “There, now let's get you dressed”

She helps you out of the bath over to the other maid, Beatrice, you had known her for less time, her position assigned to you when you came to the court after your engagement was announced. Your Father was the king of Florin, and you as his only child had the unfortunate position of being in an arranged marriage to the Prince of Guilder, the Monarchs of the country being old and weary, their son was to be crowned before the year ended and he needed a wife. Your countries had been at war for years, the violence only ceasing when your engagement had been announced, you had been in Guilder for a week now, hold up in the castle away from the public eye, today was the day that your engagement would be formally announced, a festival for your sake being held on the castle ground, thousands of people crammed inside the grounds all trying to get a look at you and the Prince, the idea made your stomach turn.

Your early years had been spent wandering the grounds of your families castle, the tall stone walls becoming a home after the years you spent in them, you felt sick for your old life, your freedom, you could run around the gardens, ride the horses whenever you wanted back home, but here, every action of yours was watched, criticized, you were told how to look, where to be and when, every part of your life was in the control of the Prince and your Father, you hated it.

You had gotten dressed, your breaths feeling tight due to the corset you wore, another freedom you yearned for was being able to wear clothing of your choosing, now everything was blue and green, the colours of Guilder, always tight on your chest to emphasize your figure, your hair was done up in a knot, a few loose strands falling to tickle your neck and cheeks.

“Beautiful” Clarice says, a soft smile on her face

“I look like a peacock”

“You do not, you’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, my little princess” Her hand is soft on your cheek, you smile at the tender action, always finding comfort in her. “Now, we must go, you’re needed downstairs”

You struggle to take a deep breath, silently cursing the fabric binding your chest as you make your way through the wide halls, they were lined with various adornments, some tapestries, a few swords hung beside scattered candles, it felt cold here, no comfort in the walls, everything was jagged and silver.

“Now, the Prince will introduce you, then the jousting will begin”

“Is anyone from Florin going to be in the duels?”

“I’m not sure my dear, there’s plenty of men from across the countries”

You nod, looping your arms through hers as you walk side by side, you stand at the large opening that leads out to the balcony above the castle grounds, everything is decorated in the countries colours, it’s so formal, you feel like a stranger in your new home, everything so similar yet so different, you had no family here, no friends aside from Clarice, you give her a soft smile before unhooking your arm, waiting for the Prince to announce you before walking out.

You step out onto the balcony, the warm sun hitting your skin, there’s a symphony of clapping and whistling, you look down at hundreds of people, all staring back at you, you wave to them,

“Sit down” The Prince speaks, you turn to him, his face is stoic, there’s no softness in his features, you abide, sitting down in the tall chair next to him. They begin the jousts, two by two the men file out, setting up on their horses, the Prince turns to you with every new competitor, explaining who they were and where they were from, including his personal opinion on the men.

You see a tall man enter the field, his armour pure black, his horse the same, he’s larger than the rest of the competitors, his helmet shaped like a skull, his chest plate donning an emblem you didn’t recognize.

“Who’s that one”

The Prince leans over the balcony to get a better look, eyes squinting in an effort to make out the symbol,

“I’m not sure, must be some farmboy playing make belief”

You respond with a small oh, the knight approaches the balcony, his hand reaching to remove his helmet, the light hits his face, streaking colours through his blonde hair, you can make out a few scars on his face, even from your distance you can see the deep colour of his eyes, his face is firm staring up at you, you’re frozen in your spot, staring back at him, he raises his lance toward you, without thinking you reach behind you, grabbing a ring of flowers held together by a ribbon, and throwing it onto his lance, it falls to the base, the flowers close enough that he could smell their aroma, he says nothing, not even a nod, he simply puts his helmet back on and moves to mount his horse.

You step back, your eyes stuck on him as you return to your seat,

“What was that?”

“Sorry?”

“You gave him your favour”

“Thought the farmboy could use some luck against Ser Michael”

“Ah, yes” The Prince goes on to ramble about the accomplishments of the opponent, his success in battle, how much he admired his bravery, but you aren’t listening, your focus completely taken by the shadowy knight galloping toward the centre of the pit, his lance raised as he thrusts it into his opponent, throwing him off his horse. The crowd erupts in cheers, you swallow thickly as you watch him get off his horse, moving toward you, he kneels in front of you,

“Simon Riley your highness”

“Where do you hail from Ser?” The Prince stands, your eyes are focused on him as he bows his head

“The North, but I am no Ser”

“You’re not a knight? You wear the armour of a knight”

“The armour belonged to my father”

“And where is he, your father?”

“Dead 10 years ago your highness”

“And tell me, why have you come”

“I come to prove my honour, to serve you”

“Very well, you may go”

You watch a few more rounds of jousting, growing bored with the same thing happening, they announce the final duel before urging the groups to attend the feast, you make your way down from the balcony, towards the high tables in the gardens, your eyes roaming over the groups of people, struggling to find a familiar face in the crowd.

“So what did you think?” The Prince asks

“About what?”

“The jousting” He scoffs

“They were all quite good”

“What about that Simon Riley”

You whip your head towards him, “I thought little of him, why?”

“Well he was rather large don’t you think, I might add him to my guard”

“Add him to mine” You speak before thinking

“Why would I add him to yours”

“I have no guard, no one to protect me”

��Well, I’ll arrange for you to choose a guard tomorrow then, perhaps then you’ll finally feel at ease here”

You nod your head, turning quickly from him, you greet the King and Queen, making small conversation about the state of the castle, the blooming bouquets of blue poppies that adorned the various pillars, your eyes are drawn to Simon, his dark appearance a stark contrast to the brightly dressed patrons that mingle around the grounds, you watch him disappear around a corner, it’s not until the Queen calls your name that you realize you had been staring at him the whole time.

“Sorry your majesty, my brain has been a fuzz all week, what did you ask?”

“That’s alright dear, with all the excitement I can hardly focus myself, I was just wondering if you had decided on a dress for the wedding”

“Oh, not yet, you’ve brought so many beautiful options I haven’t been able to decide”

“I understand, we have the best dressmakers here, but do make time to choose, we wouldn't want to delay such an important decision”

“Of course”

She smiles at you, looping her arm through her husbands as they walk on, you stand there, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of everything happening around you, you had only a week until you were to be wed and you had every decision already made for you, your fiancee and his mother picking out every detail of the wedding down to what bouquet you’d be carrying, they had decided that you would hold a large grouping of the blue poppies you see everywhere, the royal flower of Guilder, no part of the wedding made notice of your heritage, all traces of Florin erased from the ceremony, you were to be wed according to Guilder law rather than the customs of your home.

They had arranged for your father to attend but no one else, claiming that there simply wasn’t space for extra people to join, they had cut you off from your old life completely, forcing you to conform to their way of life, moulding you into the perfect Queen, obedient and meek, you despised it, you longed for your freedom from the confines of the castle.

When the feast ended and you had spoken to all the nobility you needed to, you were escorted back to your quarters, the silence of the large stone walls consuming you once again, no birds singing, no rushing of maids, just you and the night sky. It was late, the dark consuming the outer land in a blanket of shadows as you stood on your balcony looking over the moonlit gardens, that was the only good thing about your new home, a perfect view of the perfect gardens, every shrub perfectly manicured, bending and winding in a maze that led to a small fountain in the centre, each flower a shade of green and blue. Truth be told you didn’t think much of the colours before moving but now, you despised them, every shade a sharp reminder of how you didn’t belong, the colours mocked you as they invaded your eyesight, you huffed a breath to yourself, eyeing the grounds below for any sign of guards. 

There was one roaming the grounds, you thought you could easily avoid detection if you were quick, you grab your robe wrapping yourself in it, a small attempt to keep yourself warm from the cool air of the night as you creep towards your door. They were heavy, large slabs of wood, you open in slowly to avoid any creaks, slipping through the opening and rushing down the hallway, there was a small door meant for staff that you entered, making your way down the thin stairs and peering through the door outside, the guard has his back turned, you inch the door open and slide through, quickly moving towards the gardens. You walk under a large arch of shrubs, the smell of the flowers invading your senses, bushes of wolfsbane, oleander and wisteria fill the gardens, all beautiful but deadly, a worthy metaphor for your new home, you roam the isles of the garden, lost in the hidden openings and similar corners.

After a few minutes, you find yourself in the middle, a tall fountain in front of you, it’s stunning, the intricate details of the stone swirling as the water crashes into the pool, you sit in the grass, listening to the sound, letting it relax you, finally a break from the quiet that wasn’t the screaming of citizens, or the demeaning words of your future mother-in-law. You close your eyes, the grass tickles your skin as you relax, breathing in the fresh air, you hear a small rustle in the grass, breaking you from your state, you turn your ear to the noise, calling out quietly to see if anyone was there. There was no reason for anyone to be in the gardens at this hour, in fact, the Prince practically forbade it, you stand slowly, following the rustling noise, peeking around a corner you see a quick movement turning the corner, moving faster you approach it, your heartbeat heavy as you near, you turn to find the culprit and let out a small gasp, a small white rabbit was sat, chewing on some shrubs, you kneel down extending your hand towards it.

“Come here little guy, these gardens aren’t safe for you” It hops toward you, nearly touching your hand before it turns on its heel and sprints away, you furrow your brows in confusion,

“They aren’t safe for you either Princess”

Your breath stops, you feel the looming figure behind you as you slowly stand, you heartbeat now thrumming in your ears, you turn to face him, he almost melts into the darkness of the garden, his armour pitch black,

“You should get back inside”

Goosebumps cover your skin, your breaths shallow as you stare at him, you back up slowly, turning around to move through the gardens, you turn around the corners, trying to find your way out, your feet carry you through the grass, you follow the lights inside the windows, trying to get out. You rush towards the exit, eyes focused on the light as you collide with the guard, stumbling into him,

“I’m sorry”

“Princess? What are you doing outside?”

“I just needed some air” Your breathes are shaky as he scans your face,

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, completely, just need to go back inside I think the air was a little too cold”

“Well hurry in then” He nods, stepping aside to let you pass, you move past him hastily, opening the doors inside you make your way back up the stairs, you enter your room and release a breath, rushing towards your balcony to try and catch a glimpse of him. Your eyes scan the gardens, the night doing its job of concealing anything within the green walls, you see nothing, no movement anywhere, it's like he wasn’t even there, you think you imagined him, his deep voice ringing in your ears as you lay in your bed.

The next morning was calm, you woke early to the sound of your maids making their way inside, Clarice helping you dress and doing your hair while Beatrice makes your bed, tidying the room.

“Exciting day today” Clarice says

“What do you mean?”

“The Prince has arranged for you to pick a guard, I suppose he fears a possible war and wants you safe”

You nod at her, “I don’t believe the Prince fears for my safety as much as you do” you whisper, she shushes you, her eyes darting to Beatrice to make sure she didn’t hear, “Bite your tongue child”. You let out a small giggle, amused by how concerned she is, allowing her to finish your hair before you make your way to the throne room, you enter through the massive doors to a room of scattered men, all donning their house armour, you look around and see no sight of the dark knight. You stand atop the small set of stairs, looking down at the men as they announce themselves one by one, giving you their names and listing all their accomplishments, victories in battle, how they were undefeated in jousting in their home. You’re bored after an hour of their bragging, your mind oblivious to the fact that you have to choose one of them to be around you for hours at a time, an older man stands to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the doors opening, everyone turns their heads at the sound, their eyes widening at the sight of the tall man clad in black, he keeps his helmet on as he enters, only removing it to kneel before you.

“Simon Riley m’lady”

“Not Ser?”

“I beg your pardon”

“Everyone else here is a knight, why are you not?”

“I’m the last remaining member of my house m’lady, we’re a forgotten house”

“I expect my guard to be knighted”

“I may not hold a title Princess, but I assure you I would lay my life down for you” He turns his head to look at you as he speaks, and you release a strained breath,

“You may all leave” You address the room, Simon stands, “You stay” You look to him and he nods, the room is consumed in silence as the other men exit, leaving you alone with him, “Why were you in the gardens last night?”

“I needed to clear my head”

“It’s forbidden to be on castle grounds after dark”

“And yet you were there” He looks up to you, you swallow a thick gulp.

“You’ll be assigned to me, keep me safe”

“Thank you, Princess” He bows his head, 

“And don’t wear your helmet inside, it’s unnerving”

He fights the smile that creeps up on his lips as you turn away from him, exiting through the back of the room, you make your way to the Prince's quarters, his guards stand outside the door.

“Princess” They greet you

“Hello, I need to speak to the Prince”

They look to each other and back to you, “He’s busy I’m afraid”

“It’s a matter of staff” You try to push past them but they stop you, you furrow your brow at them, one takes a moment, knocking on the door.

“My Prince, the Princess wishes to speak with you” He shouts through the door, you hear shuffling through the door, the Prince mumbling something before he steps to the door, opening it, he’s half-dressed, his hair a mess, you watch him peer backwards, mouthing something and it all clicks in your head, you feel your chest tighten.

“What did you need my love” The name feels like a stab to your chest,

“I’ve chosen my guard, Simon”

“Simon?”

“The black knight from the feast” You watch the gears spin in his mind

“Yes very well” He turns away,

“He needs to be knighted”

He sighs, “He holds no title?”

“Not yet no”

“Fine, inform him that he should be in the throne room by nightfall, I shall do it then”

Before you can respond he closes the door, the shuffling and giggles behind the door resuming, you spare a polite smile to the guards, turning away and making your way to your quarters.

You sit at the small table in your room, your eyes watching through the window as people wander the grounds, you call for Clarice who meets your side in an instant,

“Please inform my guard he is to be in the throne room after dinner”

“Very well Princess” She smiles at you before leaving, you sit quietly in your room, daydreaming about being outside in the fields, exploring the ponds around the castle grounds, being anywhere but here. The time passes quickly, a servant knocks on your door to inform you that dinner was prepared, you make your way down to the dining hall, the air of the room feeling colder as you sit down, dinners were the same, just you, the Prince and the Queen, the King being in poor health was kept in his room, only brought out for special occasions. You sit and eat, picking at the meal in front of you as the two of them discuss wedding preparations like you aren’t there, they don’t ask for your input, deciding on things alone, after a few minutes you stand to excuse yourself,

“You’re done eating?”

You stop in your tracks, “Not particularly hungry this evening”

“Well, I should see you in a few moments in the throne room then,” He says, turning back to his conversation, disregarding you.

You make your way to the large room, the walls high, large windows separating the spaces in them, you stare at the ceiling, it’s ridiculously tall, with large chandeliers hanging from the crossing beams, there are pictures hanging on the wall, you stride past them not bothering to spare them a glance as you hear the doors open, The Prince walks in beside his own guard, Simon trailing behind them, your gaze softens as you look at him, he kneels in front of the Prince, removing his helmet, you’re close enough now that you can properly make out his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the scar that crosses through his eyebrow, and his eyes, dark and rich, his hair falling slightly across his forehead as he bows his head. The Prince declares a few words, taking a sword from his guard and tapping it onto Simon's shoulders, the knight stands to his height, he towers over the Prince, having to look down to meet his eyes, he swears a few words, giving his oath to the Prince before everything is settled. The Prince nods, stepping away and leaving the room, Simon turns to you,

“Ser Simon” You nod

“Princess”

You stand there looking at him, words unable to make their way from your lips, you simply turn and leave, his eyes following you as you exit making your way up to your room, he trails behind you, his helmet under his arm as you reach your door, he stands with his back to the wall, his eyes focusing around the halls as you enter your room. You step in and close the door, your back falling against the hard wood as you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bracing yourself against the door, you take a few seconds to gather your thoughts before moving further into the room, stripping yourself of your dress to put on more comfortable clothes, feeling like you could properly inhale without the burden of a corset.

You spend an hour alone in your room, pacing around trying to occupy your mind, the pale walls doing little to aid your efforts, you think to yourself for a minute, your legs carry you across the rooms towards your door where you stand for a moment, collecting yourself before opening it,

“Princess, is there a problem?” He asks

You shake your head, you’re entranced by his gaze, “Where is your family Ser?”

“My family?”

“You come here holding no title, no accomplishments, who are you?”

“I’m no one”

“Nobody is no one”

He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling, “I come from England Princess, my family owned a farm before the war, and now I am here”

“And your family, what of them”

“Dead m’lady”

Your face drops, your heart thumps with empathy, “I apologize for my words, I had no idea”

“How could you have”

“Yes well, how did you come to be in the country?”

“I’m not sure, I left home one day and just kept going until I arrived in the countryside”

“And you chose to stay here?”

“It’s beautiful here”

“It seems that way”

“Seems?”

You stumble over your own words, careful to not give yourself away, “I simply mean it’s not my home”

“You’re not from here”

“No, I come from Florin”

“I have never been”

“Well I hope you get to see it one day, it’s beautiful, tall cliffs with waterfalls, every part of it breathtaking”

He watches you speak with deep interest, hanging on to every word that falls from your lips, “You miss it?”

“More and more every day” You admit

“And you can’t go home”

“Not if I am to be Queen” Your smile fades

He nods, you turn your gaze to him, oblivious to the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time, his eyes memorizing every feature of your face, every smile line and ridge, you turn from him quickly, nervous under his stare.

“It’s late Princess, you should be in bed”

You turn back to him, a polite smile on your face as you walk back into your room, your hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, wishing you could keep talking to him. You lay in your bed wide awake, the words exchanged with Simon the first conversation you’d had that didn’t concern the details of your marriage, he was the first person to ask about your feelings, your home, you figured he must’ve just been being polite, too nervous about getting sent away to say anything different to you.

Simon stands guard over your room while you sleep, turning away any guard who tried to take his position, intent on ensuring your safety within the confines of your room.

[totothewolff]

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader(fem service staff)][💘 Romance][🥵Smut][🎀 Age-gap][❤️‍🔥Daddy Kink][🛳Yacht Culture][✍️WIP]

Summary: The number of sleepless nights you spend thinking about what you would say to his face, to that gorgeous, gorgeous face, if he ever dared to cross your path again. And now here he is, that fucker! Did he get amnesia or something?! Why is he acting so calm? As if Toto didn't leave you the way he did? The fact he still looks at you that way after all the years, and that he is aging like a fine wine, looking even better with those couple of years added to his age, still fit, still charming, still intimidating, still him, it doesn't help you remain angry at him for abandoning the ship.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist >

3 - Not all who wander are lost

Your life after Toto and college has gotten much better. You like your current job. It's not the highest salary, but it's enough to enjoy yourself, buy cute clothes, and invest in revamping the apartment you once shared with your aunt.

It's nothing glamorous, though. It's just some cosmetic repairs and better decor, but you couldn't imagine affording it before.

Humidity is such a bitch in Monaco. There's more hidden inside those walls than you expected when you started restoring them.

Your phone buzzes in the front pocket of your washed-down tiny shorts, which you wear with an old oversized T-shirt. A proper attire for working with paint!

A text from an unknown number arrived.

"Are you in town?" it reads.

You dismiss it and continue your Bob The Builder activities.

"I'm near your place," comes a following text.

"Hi, wrong number! No idea who you are."

"This is Y/N's number, right?"

"Yes... but who is it?"

Now, you need help. All your friends and family are in your contacts, but a photo loads in the chat before you can text back.

It's a picture of one of Toto's hands. His long finger appears in the photo as he is about to press the bell button on your unit building.

It takes you a minute to grasp the reality of what the fuck is going on.

Okay, this is indeed happening.

This is not one of your fever dreams.

Don't panic! Don't panic!

Fuck. It's been a while.

Fuck! Fuck!

For the past four years, you have successfully avoided the thought of him.

You even feared it back in the day, knowing quite well what the mementos of Toto did for your body.

You did your best to get clean from him, casting Toto away from your heart and body till there was left no trace of him in you at all.

And now this?! Shit.

But your body reacts on its own and instinctively for you, hitting the entrance button fast.

A buzzing sound on the front door allows Toto to access your building.

What the fuck?! That was a fast reflex.

Toto's footsteps on the stairs and the soft knocks on your door follow.

You walk so quickly to get the door, more than you feel proud to admit, already feeling the self-love leaving your body by your actions.

Fuuuuuuck.

The view that greets you feels like something out of a stupid rom-com movie. Argh! He is why you despise those films and distrust men, romance, and relationships.

Toto looks gorgeous as fuck! With that stupid beautiful face and those ridiculous bambi eyes he is putting on, holding those silly flowers, and wearing that tailored suit, accentuating his best features.

He is aging like a fine wine and looks even better with those couple of years added to his age. Still fit, still charming, still intimidating, still him.

He is holding a massive bouquet for you. In his other hand, he carries a paper bag with a bottle of wine and other items inside.

"This one is for you." The sound of his deep voice reaching your ears brings back many memories, more than you can handle.

To your lack of response, he moves to place the flowers in your hands, watching you frozen before him, and then reaches closer to kiss your cheek as a greeting, way close to your lips.

The warm touch you feel in the corner of your mouth takes you out of the trance and back to reality.

This is happening, he is here. It's not one of those frantic dreams you used to have, ala Bella Swan.

"And this is for your aunt," he adds as he walks past you and enters your place.

He goes straight to leave the bag on the brand-new trendy table you recently bought. That table is pulled in a corner away, safe from the chaos and the paint.

Toto is already walking around your apartment as if he had the right to it, checking out what's happening.

"It's a good thing you haven't changed your phone number! That's a nice wall color," he tells you with a big smile, his beautiful teeth showing.

Did he get amnesia?! Why is he acting so calm, as if he didn't leave you like he did and in pieces?

"Us regulars can go with just one phone number our entire lives, you know?" There's a hint of anger hidden in your first words to him. It's been a while, yet it feels like yesterday.

Oh, the number of nights you spend fighting to sleep in your bed, thinking about what you would say to his face if he ever dared to cross your path again, to that gorgeous, gorgeous face.

And here he is, the fucker! What a nerve.

You move peacefully to place the flowers in a vase, which is contrary to how you feel inside. Still, you frown but hold your feelings. You bite your tongue not to lose it.

Silence reigns for a moment.

"Are you planning on moving out?" Toto asks, his voice lingering with worry and nervousness. He points with his finger to the revamping.

"No, I'm just making it my own since now it's just me here."

His eyebrows go up immediately. "Is your aunt..?" He doesn't get to finish his question as you instantly reply, interrupting him.

"She moved in with her longtime boyfriend. It took her a while to finally decide to move out, and she kept returning to the apartment most of the nights, knowing I didn't cope well with those changes. She feared I could go back into a bad place... once again."

"The one you sent me to. Thanks for all the mess you caused me!" it's what you feel like screaming at Toto, but you don't. You are grasping at composure with your nails.

Toto stares at you solemnly, sensing the mood shifting. "Frankly, it's going better than I hoped for. I'm surprised you are not screaming at me or slapping me so far," he expresses with a smirk, arms on his hips, flexing those biteable, toned arms.

Your eyes finally move from the water stream coming from the tap to face him. Hurt is visible in them. "It's been years, Toto. You chose to move on without me, and so I did."

He clears his throat before slowly walking closer to you, closing the gap between you, and stepping over the splatted plastic covering the brand-new wooden floors on his way to you. It's the only sound heard in the apartment.

You feel a nervousness in the base of your stomach as his towering body approaches.

"Answer me this question," he looks at you so intensely. You lean on the kitchenette counter, his body almost trapping yours against it. "Do you regret me?" he whispers, his body nearly touching yours.

You take a minute to answer.

"I do regret..." you answer, each word gaining momentum. You pause to look up straight into Toto's eyes. The man looked so hopeless for a second. "...not taking that juicy tip you offered me." You let out with a smile, feeling victorious.

You lil' shit.

If he wants to play some game this time, it will be with your rules.

-

As the bottle of wine reaches its end and the coat of paint on the wall is almost complete, he taunts you with the fresh brush he's holding, getting you an ivory splat of paint on your forearm with a cheeky smile.

You playfully toss yours on his way, staining his nose. You two start making a mess, throwing paint at each other.

"Hey! Don't fuck up my clothes! Is this a cheap excuse to make me take off my shirt?" he teases you.

"Oh, no, none of that! I love myself nowadays!" you snap back, laughing.

"Fuck you," Toto pushes you to the side.

"Let's grab dinner somewhere. I'm getting high with this smell!" Toto invites you.

And you accept.

-

Being around him feels so good. Indulging yourself with him is fixating and delicious, like a fantastic drug. You have his full attention, and you can make him laugh and smile like that and make him look at you with those eyes.

The moment he reaches your cheek over the table and caresses it with his hand and thumb, provoking you to close your eyes and seek more of his touch immediately, wanting the contact of his warm skin with yours desperately, makes you feel like a trained pet coming back to his master, and it breaks something inside you.

God, you used to be desperate for him, craving anything he gave you. No matter if it were crumbs, you would settle for anything to have him. Gosh, you were so young and dumb.

-

By the moment you get the question, Toto silently asks you with his eyes, as he drops you back at your place later that night after spending a great time together downtown.

After you two, you don't want to throw around the word "date," but yeah, basically, you just had one. You feel decisive enough to say no, even if, in reality, you were scared of what Toto provoked you only by a simple touch.

Oh, and to think there was a time when the simple idea of Toto taking you someplace fancy, out of that fucking Yacht Club, in public, opening doors for you, pulling your chair, looking at you with sparkling eyes across the table, and sharing soft touches here and there, was something you only could dream of and used to beg for it to happen back in the day.

As you take off his jacket, the one he gave you to keep you warm in the nightly breeze, both of you stand by the entrance door of your building. His eyes speak volumes to you, almost in a plea to let him inside, into your life once more, into your bed and your core.

You feel his nose tenderly brushing yours, the warmth of his mouth brushing your lips, his muscular arm stretching next to your face as he leans in on you.

"Good night, Toto. It was great seeing you," you say almost in a whisper, getting on your tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek before entering your place without looking back.

-

Every once in a while, texts from Toto start to arrive.

-

As the days go by, your chat remains active, not daily, but every week.

-

Here and there, you two have a casual call to share, you know, life or when important things happen.

-

Maybe once a month, you find yourself Facetiming with him when you feel you miss or need him, even if you hate to admit it.

-

The number of instant likes he gives you on Instagram every time you post something —the only social media account you, and he have— constantly reminds you that Toto is there, looking over you.

It doesn't matter if you appear in those photos hanging out with random dudes or kissing your new Portuguese boyfriend. Toto still leaves you a like, maybe just to let you know he saw it or that he is still there for you and that none of it matters.

He always knows all about your new relationships anyway.

How can the two of you talk about each other's love lives? Well, it's mostly about your love life. Toto only has flings, and sometimes, he doesn't even remember the girls' names.

But still, none of you can even dare to mention your past one, the one you two shared, which needs to be studied.

-

Almost two years later, Toto randomly shows up in person at your place again and at a terrible time.

You are still dealing with your painful breakup with now the French boyfriend, which Toto knows as "The One," and you are all frail.

You believe Toto showed up to be a supportive friend since, by accident and while entirely drunk, you confessed to him on a call you made him in the middle of the night. That same night, right after Manu ended things with you and you sought comfort in a bottle and Toto's voice, revealing to him how you felt Manu was the one, that this one truly hurt, not as much as when he left you, but close enough.

But you had no idea how to fix things since Manu asked you to get rid of "this weird dynamic" before the two could move further. "To leave the other relationship you have! Which sometimes feels like the real one!" Manu confronted you, raising his voice, angry and jealous, referring to "him", to Toto.

-

You and Toto are having the most friendly chit-chat, chilling around in your finally-completed, rebuilt place. When he lets you know, he will be staying in Monaco for weeks.

"I'll be staying at the Yacht Club," he says and looks amused at your reaction to his words.

"Shocker!" you answer, pulling a faux stunned face, making him chuckle.

"Well, not so. That place has outstanding customer service! 5 out of 5." His eyebrows go up and down several times, teasing you and hinting about your past whereabouts. "Well, still..."

"Oh, so you are fucking the girl in turn?" escapes your lips, without much thought, interrupting him.

Yes, you are still bitter after all these years, even if you like to pretend you aren't. Four? Five years have passed?

"I didn't mean that," he clears his throat before answering. "You cut me halfway through the sentence, well, still... it's not the same without you. That's what I was going to say."

"Oh, please, don't mind me if you are doing so! It's none of my business. Just, if you have another fiance you want to leave, please inform the girl she's an excuse beforehand." You start vomiting words coming from deep within you, out of nowhere.

Shit, you have been so emotional lately, and his presence is not helping.

It gets quiet and awkward so fast.

"You weren't an excuse. You were the reason," Toto confesses, getting visibly irritated too.

"Weren't you already running away from her? That's why you arrived there in the first place! Before you put it inside me, isn't it? And to what?! To immediately leave me? That makes total sense. How romantic!"

"It wasn't the right time for what you asked me for. You were too young, and we just had met to move together that fast. I wasn't ready for that then, to take you fully as my responsibility. It was for the better. I don't regret my actions." He sounds dead honest.

"I wasn't?! Then?!"

You roll your eyes at him, and you're done with the conversation. You change the subject. You don't feel like going to war right now.

-

The following day, at dawn, Toto is already there at your place, all joyful, with iPad in hand, as if you hadn't discussed heavy subjects last night.

He always looks too comfortable in your place, claiming the armchair for himself as usual.

Some minutes later, another couple of knocks come on the door. Toto quickly gets up, stretching those long muscular legs as if he knew who was on the other side.

He slides in his socks like a kid on the now freshly cleaned wooden floor and avoids stepping on the Roomba currently doing its work on his way to the door.

He lets in his hot, busty redhead assistant.

She enters your kitchen holding two massive fancy paper food bags. Toto made her get you breakfast from your favorite dinner in town. He still remembers which one is and your order.

As you finish setting the table, his assistant prepares him his coffee, grabbing things from your drawers.

Yeah, girl, go ahead! Feel free!

Halfway through your Croque Madame, you remember you need to install a higher bookshelf, so you ask Toto for his help.

"I don't do any of that, but my people will handle it. Please leave it to me, anything you need." He offers you a big smile. "You know that, right?" he looks straight at you, placing his fork down on the table for a second. Anything you need, you just ask, a quick text or a call," he leans forward on the table. "And I will get it done."

Your face shifts to an expression he wasn't expecting and a prominent frown forms on your eyebrows. "Oh! Now you do that, huh?! Good to know!" you let out, angry.

Fuck, here it comes.

He stares at you, serious. Everything goes silent.

"Y/N..."

"It's not like I had asked you for something before!" you laugh off, resentful. "Not a single "I'm sorry" has come out of your lips, yet"

"Kid, I won't ask for your forgiveness since I don't regret what I did. I told you that before." he sounds solemn now, his smile fading.

"Don't call me kid," you answer, rage building up.

Okay, you sense those repressed feelings pouring out of you.

"Then stop behaving like one." He sounds so calm, but his voice is more in-depth than usual. His beautiful dark eyes dispatch you a glare.

Oh, he is mad but not as furious as you are.

"Would you mind?!" you let out loud, losing it at the noises coming from the kitchen amidst your fight. You turn your head to the hot girl still doing shit for Toto at the counter.

Okay, that was rude of you, but you are pissed off.

She looks at you, perplexed, before nodding and exiting the place to give you two some privacy.

"I don't have to take shit in my own house," you warn Toto, returning your attention to him.

"You are the one who allowed me in. You let me spend all the time I want here and be by your side whenever I feel like it. Oh, please don't tell me it didn't cross your mind all things that could happen by doing so?"

"Oh, right, then save me the fights. Why don't you go back to stay gone? How about that?! Why don't you leave, better? I mean, you have done it before."

"Y/N," he sighs your name, exasperated, his hand going through his hair, a tic he has.

"No, seriously, 'cause I did fine without you! Or do you need to fuck me first to disappear then?"

HOLY FUCK! Are you going to take things that far? Phew.

Toto looks visibly hurt at your words, but he only slightly nods. He is still sitting in the chair across the table from you, arms tightly crossed, his tight shirt showing his muscles.

Then Toto starts shaking his head in an "I'm about to lose my cool" way.

Yet you dare to push for more. You want to let it all out of your system. You have been holding, eating, and carrying these feelings for years!

You go on: "Let me ask you the same question then, you showed up here, don't tell me you weren't expecting this," you point with your finger referring to this exchange, "to happen at some point after you used me relentlessly for your enjoyment and pleasure, and then left me out of the blue, not caring about my feelings, why don't you use that energy better to..." tears are menacing to slide down your eyes, you lose it and he looks like he does too.

Toto looks at you with such dangerous intensity that he gets on his feet and drops his hands on the table forcefully before leaning in his tall body and overpowering you.

You immediately shut up, witnessing his reaction.

His body language screams at you, "Abort, abort, danger."

"Go on," a threatening sound comes from his trembling lips. It's both a command and a whisper. His long nose is almost touching yours. You can feel his anger and the extremely tense static in the air. "What were you about to say?"

"...To fuck another idiot who is willing to keep your bed warm, like I was." you let out against his mouth.

"You know quite well there's no other like you," he says without hesitation. He looks angry in capital letters.

Toto starts walking your way, rounding the table. He looks menacing.

You feel intimidated for a brief second before adding the killer punch, "Were you just looking where put your dick in?"

"That's enough!" In a quick move and with a firm grip, he pulls you up from the chair, wrapping your legs around his waist, and smashes his body and yours against the wall, pressing himself on you, no inch of space, trapping you between his warm body and the cold wall.

He starts whispering to your ear and neck, "I keep coming to your place because I can't bear to be in my villa without looking at the bed and desiring you wrapped around me, to be buried deep inside you, to have you moaning and begging me for more, don't you think that every corner of that place reminds me of you loving me" his hand slide from your calf to your tight. At the same time, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips.

"I fucked your twin the night you didn't let me come in. You have no idea what number of girls I have called your name. They all look like you," he confesses to you between a ravenous kiss as you run your hands on his hair and undo his shirt.

You feel the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins as your eyes lock and memories flood you until you finally articulate, "I missed you."

The corner of Toto's mouth twitches upwards into a small smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "I missed you too, kid," he replies, a hint of huskiness in his tone that is too much for you to bear.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, drinking you in like a thirsty man, and you suddenly feel naked under his gaze.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He still wears the one you picked for him, the one you liked, the one that was for you. His eyes meet yours again, and you mirror back that same hunger.

The years apart melt away like a morning fog, with it, the anger, pain, and regret.

His lips brush over the curve of your neck, and Toto starts pressing in circles his erection against your thighs and core. You let out a gasp, the pleasure so intense that you break away from him.

"We shouldn't," you mumble, struggling for air. Toto's hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you feel his smile against your lips.

"Yes, we shouldn't," he echoes your words, but his fingers are already tracing your lower lip, as addictive as always.

"But we will," you say as your fingernails dig into his now naked back, and you pull him closer by the waist, your legs still wrapped around him, and he captures your lips in a more urgent, passionate kiss as his dick get pressed hard against your core.

With each piece of clothing sliding from your bodies, the more urgent you two become. As if you two were magnetically drawn to each other, you stumble towards the bed, unable to separate a second.

He carries you there while kissing you, stumbling and throwing stuff to the floor by accident in the desperate pursuit to merge your bodies.

"You have no idea the number of times I have jerked off to your boudoir photos; I need new ones," Toto mumbles as his intense gaze looks into your soul, stirring sensations that you had long tried to bury, memories that you had attempted to obliterate.

His thumb finds its way to your lips, gently pressing against the softness, leaving an imprint of his skin on yours before his mouth reaches your breasts, taking a rigid nipple within his lips, teasing it with his teeth and tongue until you cry out.

When he releases it, Toto turns his attention to the other breast, showering it with the same love and desire.

His hard-on is pressed into you, eager and persistent, a hot, demanding presence between your thighs. You let out a moan as you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer. With every lap of his tongue over your sensitive flesh, you feel your hips bucking against him.

You want him to fill the void he'd left behind inside you. The throbbing of your pussy lets him know just how much it craves him.

Toto pauses for a moment as he takes in the sight of your sweat-slicked body, your heaving chest straining with every shallow breath. He reaches down and wraps his fingers around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance.

You feel the head of his dick rubbing along your swollen, aching lips, the warmth of his skin so intense.

Toto leans back, his brow furrows with concentration, and with a crude growl, he pushes himself hard inside you.

You let out a guttural moan as he fills you balls deep, your bodies connecting in the most delicious of ways. After a second, his hips start to move in earnest, pounding into you with focused intensity.

There is no time for tenderness or affection, just two bodies engaging in an animalistic rhythm fueled by pent-up lust and long-denied desires.

Your nails cling to his sweat-dampened muscular shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he smashes your pussy so hard.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed your tightness, this pussy," he grunts, withdrawing slowly before slamming back into you with bruising force.

The bed squeaks and creaks beneath you, and your intense pleasure movements shake the bed frame as well.

You can feel every inch of him, the veins snaking down the length of him, the hot, heavy weight of him inside you. "Daddy, more!" you cry out. He groans and flexes his hips again, grinding deeper.

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the room as he starts to piston in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

You hear the slaps of skin on skin as he thrusts you harder, as well as the growls of pleasure and the filthy, dirty talking that comes out from both your mouths.

It feels as glorious as you remembered it, this relentless pounding leading you to a fantastic climax.

"Oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy," you moan eagerly, hips colliding with his.

Toto is really here, plunging you deep and hard all those years without him. Your hands grip the sheets, and you arch your back as his thickness claims you entirely.

"Fuck yeah," Toto's voice is almost unrecognizable between your gasps and moans. "That's it, kid, take it all."

The scent of sweat and sex clings heavily in the air as you feel like your body might shatter with each push into you.

His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you to another position again, and you claw and scratch at the sheets beneath, searching for something to ground you as he fucks you so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't ever stop," you moan desperately, your teeth grit as Toto gives it to you relentlessly.

"I'm so close, fuck!"

You are his, completely and utterly his, after all these years. It's inexplicably raw and shows in how you two devour each other at that moment.

"Oh," Toto moans loudly. His cheeks are all red, and his eyes are becoming watery.

Loud and extended growls from both of you start coming out as you reach your peaks.

Within a second, you feel yourself releasing with such force, unable to hold yourself a minute more.

"Unf, kid, you are so gorgeous," Toto moans out as he enjoys the view of you, his eyes filled with lust as he watches you climax in front of him.

He is barely able to thrust you three times more before pulling himself out, quickly and between groans, while you stroke his cock, feeling him release over you, his warm cum dripping in your skin and his big dick throbbing on your belly.

-

When Toto wakes up after taking a much needed post-angry sex nap and doesn't feel your body resting on top of his, he instantly knows what it means.

"Until you are willing to say I'm sorry, don't forget to close the door on your way out."

He reads on the sticky note you left for him on the door.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[matchibee]

Enchanted

i wrote this with such speed i thought i was gonna pass out. a long one, my magnum opus as far as writing for Miguel goes. semi-proof-read?

in which Miguel is in love with you but you’re in love with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man. An illusive figure who arrived with the wind, retreating upon the stars. You couldn’t help your infatuation, couldn’t stand the way he had your stomach flipping at the mere mention of his name — jumbotrons displaying his well-built definition, detailing the lengths of his most recent brush with malice.

Clawed hands running along the sides of buildings, thick crimson webs entrapping unsuspecting offenders. Everything from the seemingly mundane to the exceptionally exemplary. Not a detail scurried past you, infatuated to your core, and the moment where you finally encountered him — flesh to spandex — was a moment you’d yet to forget.

A trip to the bank gone wrong. Mismatched militia of men in crude ski masks training their guns upon the various tellers performing dreadfully dull monetary tasks. They instructed —no — demanded cash be deposited within boringly beige burlap sacks. In an effort to conceal yourself once the gunfight began, you ducked behind a trio of seats, body shaking, praying you’d be spared from the influence of evil.

You’d damn near conceded to the universe right then and there, tears streaming across your cheeks. Then, as though the world had opened up, heeding your call:

Spider-Man.

He’d arrived upon seemingly thin air, just as you fantasized, defeating with the men in a flash — the onslaught of action leaving you frozen in place. Seconds, minutes had passed following Spider-Man’s victory, yet you stayed frozen. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

“You alright?”

The voice hadn’t registered, hands still covering your ears, gunfire playing out like a demented film in your mind.

Warmth. A hand pressed against your shoulder, tears ceasing their onslaught, the stray liquid hitting the floor. Eyes slick with moisture, burning from how tightly you’d shut up them looking up to find not a face, but a mask.

“Spider-Man…?”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

It hadn’t even been something you’d considered, surveying yourself in tandem with Spider-Man, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Besides, perhaps, your heartbeat.

“I’m… I’m fine, thank you.”

He nodded his head, holding out a hand to you, your own enveloped by his palm alone. “Let’s get you out of here. Where do you live?”

He wanted to take you — escort you — home.

In typical circumstance you would’ve scoffed at the question, removing yourself from the situation, mace coating their face as you made a daring escape.

But here, now, enveloped in everything Spider-Man, you couldn’t help your compliance, couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped at his proximity.

His touch had lingered somewhere along your frame the entire journey back to your apartment — hand, back, shoulder — he moved in an effort to extend safety, yet you couldn’t resist the blush that unfurled against your cheeks when he’d remove himself only to return.

“This is me,” You’d spoken hoarsely, praying Spider-Man believed your nerves stemmed from a place of perpetuating fear. Fiddling with your thumbs, practically unable to look him in the eyes — mask?

He seemed in tune with your movement, hand returning to encase your own, ceasing your fidget. The man hesitated, a deafening silence, “Stay safe, okay?”

That was that. You’d returned to your apartment dazed and discombobulated, calling your boss to explain what had happened — you wouldn’t be able to attend today, perhaps not tomorrow, either. There you stayed within the safety of your apartment, reflecting on the day’s events, and yet only one thing reigned consistent in your mind.

Spider-Man.

You knew him — Spider-Man, even if you hadn’t known it. Miguel despised it, despised the way you spoke of him without even realizing it. Friends from work, the best of friends. But everyday he yearned for the threshold between platonic and romantic to blur, itching to feel his skin against yours.

Miguel’s heart sank when you called out, kicking himself for not realizing how deeply this morning’s debacle might have affected you. At the first sign of mental relief, he’d taken the opportunity to call you, fiddling with the picture of you and his daughter — the day you’d taken her out for her birthday — displayed neatly on his desk for everyone to see.

Everyone except you, of course.

You hadn’t the faintest idea it was there, Miguel coincidentally moving it aside, perhaps blocking it with his bulbous stature whenever you’d enter his office.

But he knew, his daughter knew, every other co-worker that had entered inquiring upon advice knew.

How his daughter adored you, and it only made him all the more enchanted with you.

Yet those feelings he’d extended towards his daughter in the midst of exhausted delirium, admitting — yes — he like-liked you were forced to remain hidden.

Those feelings that bubbled inside his chest whenever you smiled up at him, or brushed his shoulder during your trek to the office, were forced to remain hidden

The sound of the line connecting had Miguel sitting up straighter in his swivel chair, hesitant to respond, cursing you for answering your phone while you weren’t in the best shape.

Why would you just take of yourself? Why wouldn’t you just let him take care of you?

“Miguel,” Your meager voice upon pick-up echoed as though you had been asleep, a drawl to your voice, hopelessly drowsy — confused.

Or perhaps you’d been in tears?

The thought alone left Miguel’s heart clenching for relief.

“Hey,” He picked at loose skin surrounding his nail bed, “I uh… You called out?”

You hummed in response, Miguel doing the same. In truth, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond. He didn’t believe he’d get this far, didn’t realize how the mere tingle of the phone against his ear — displaying your contact photo of the night out where he was seconds away from confessing his feelings — would have his stomach flipping in circles.

“You’re not feeling well? Not… What’s wrong?”

He could hear you shift on the other line, a sniffle.

You were crying.

“Just… Something happened before work and I…” He heard the way your throat clenched, fighting the urge to cry, “I didn’t think I’d be able to go, y’know, do my job — not with that on my mind.” You forced a laugh, Miguel’s chest only clenching tighter.

He loathed himself for not being there sooner, beat himself up for not delivering you from the clutches of those fucked men. If you’d been home, his home that he’d gladly make yours, this wouldn’t have happened.

He didn’t want to ever allow it to happen again.

Miguel knew he should’ve killed those pathetic excuses for men then and there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not with you present.

Perhaps the evening called for a targeted patrolling session.

“Want me to stop by? I could…” Miguel hesitated, “I could bring something to eat if you don’t feel well enough to cook, maybe…”

“No, Mig.” He could hear your hesitance, your voice quaking, distressed. “I just wanna be alone…”

Your sobs could be heard as the line disconnected, Miguel ridden with overwhelming grief.

He didn’t want to leave you alone, leave you to suffer in the silence of your apartment. Not when he could be there to hold you close, not when his daughter could braid your hair and ramble about classroom activities and playground gossip.

He was simply meant for you, meant to adore you with everything that encompassed his being.

Why wouldn’t you just let him?

Of course, you’d returned to work eventually, life seeming to resume as intended. You hadn’t been away long, something that simultaneously relieved and upset Miguel.

Relief from seeing your personified perfection in the flesh.

Upset because you shouldn’t have to push yourself to heal before you're ready.

You fell back into your daily habits with relative ease. Returning to work, an overwhelming project at your call upon your return, which precedented a late evening — crumpled papers, glasses hanging low on the tip of your nose. You simply couldn't get this right no matter how incessantly you tried, no matter how much effort you put into it. You were out of your zone, mind plagued with images of Spider-Man and everything that encompassed him.

“You’re not going home?” Miguel’s voice was laced with concern, leaning against the doorway to your office — adjacent rooms, right beside each other whenever the other yearned for moral support; confirmation in the midst of their work.

Sometimes you caught that the mere vibration of his melodic tone filled you with a sense of enchantment, legs weak and mind fogged with his essence.

The two of you couldn't afford to travel down that rabbit-hole, not again. Lingering touches, lovesick stares. Your lives were far too hectic, too different to allow yourselves such vulnerability.

You couldn't do that to him, to his daughter.

“Huh?” You snapped out of your academic stupor upon realizing you had, in fact, registered his voice amongst your onslaught of thoughts. “Oh, no. I already ate.”

Miguel laughed at you then. Relishing in your inattentiveness, the way your mind wandered to the simplest trivialities, the way you became entrapped within your work, forfeiting your very existence in favor of a breakthrough. Ripping the paper from your hands, your pout making Miguel see stars. “Miguel, I need that.”

Yet he couldn't help the way he felt wondering if it wasn't thoughts of frustration that plagued your mind, but thoughts of him.

“No,” The man tucked the paper neatly into one of the drawers attached to your desk, holding it closed with his calf, “You need to go home.”

“I’m not playing around, this is important.”

“Neither am I.”

You were stubborn, Miguel knew that, despised it. That didn’t deter him from extending a hand, working to convince you. Back and forth you shot excuses upon excuses, explanations piling upon others.

However, in the end, he had a daughter he adored to return home to. If you didn’t want to listen to a friend’s concerns…

Friend.

The word alone left a fowl taste in his mouth.

He couldn’t do anything to deter you from your decision.

His journey home was one he’d taken in complete silence, Nueva York’s hustle and bustle nothing more than insignificant background noise. His daughter was home waiting, one of his neighbors whose child attended the same school gracious enough to walk her home when he was unable to. The two had dinner, watched sparkly cartoons, and retired for an evening’s rest — all while you hunched over your desk, pencils coming and going, frustrations taken out on countless crumpled papers desecrating your office floor.

When you’d finally emerged, dazed and exhausted, a voice called out to you above, rain pouring against the sidewalk, and of course you’d neglected to check the weather — not an umbrella in sight.

Just your luck.

“Late evening?” Spider-Man was crouched on the lamppost above you, soaking wet, looking down with an unreadable expression due to the mask obscuring his face.

Just your luck.

“You don’t have any idea.” You responded, holding your face, fighting the blush that pushed forward. His voice was like honey, smooth as he spoke every word. “Shit.”

“No umbrella?”

You nodded your head with hesitance, embarrassed. Spider-Man hopped down from his height ways above you, standing before you in all his glory. Proximity practically nonexistent, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, soothed by the prospect of his presence alone. “I don’t really have anywhere to keep one with the suit but…” He contemplated what he’d say next very carefully, “Want a ride?”

“You have a spider-car?”

“Well, no.” Spider-Man gestured to his wrists with a silent laugh, web-shooters fashioned there, encasing his wrists beautifully. “But if you close your eyes, it’s kinda the same.”

“Oh.” You were hesitant, unsure if it would be a wise idea. Yet, in the end, you’d opted to accept. It would be much quicker, you convinced yourself, and that was definitely the only reason you’d taken the extended invitation.

No other reason.

Nueva York was beautiful this time of night, windows from above glittering like flecks of gold, quaint as silence began to make its home. The cars speckled the asphalt like stars against the inky darkness of an evening sky. The sight unparalleled by anything that encompassed the human experience.

Of course, you’d been unable to witness everything, eyes shut as you held onto Spider-Man’s neck like your life was dependent on it.

It very well might’ve been, but you knew he wouldn’t allow you to fall.

And if by some off-chance you had, he would surely be there to catch you.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, unfavorable situations.” You joked as he produced you at the window to your apartment, the two of you standing on the fire escape, rain still fluttering around you. By now, you were soaked, looking up at Spider-Man through a hand held high-above your eyes, shielding your gaze from the rain.

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

You hadn’t an idea what he could’ve meant, but that didn’t deter your mind from coming to unreasonable conclusions. Was he flirting? Did he mean his words in a romantic sense? Certainly not. People like Spider-Man didn’t have time for relationships, not trivial ones, anyways. And if he did, you convinced yourself he certainly wouldn’t extended his affections towards someone as seemingly insignificant as yourself.

Spider-Man took hold of your face, your body tensing, a million thoughts running rampant in your mind. “You should get inside,” He finally spoke, “Wouldn’t wanna catch a cold, miss another day of work.”

Just like that, he was gone, off into the evening. The rain had ceased, your body soaked, hopping into your apartment through your window. Your nightly routined had gone as typical, but when it came to rest...

You simply couldn’t sleep that evening, thoughts overrun with thoughts of your arachnid savior.

And somewhere down the way, Miguel was just the same.

“I was wondering if you’d wanna go out tonight? I got uh… Well my neighbor is…”

You weren’t paying attention, head in your hand, picking at your lunch with the other.

No, your mind was entirely absorbed by thoughts of Spider-Man, your meeting him once again all you’d been able to conjure to your mind. For once, work went undone without apprehension, and you allowed it. You were one of the best Geneticists alongside Miguel, they wouldn’t dream of replacing you, not for something as trivial as today’s agenda.

Miguel was still rambling beside you, “But yeah, so if you want, we should definitely—“

“Huh?” Miguel’s heart seemed to deflate. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“No, yeah.” He pushed the tickets back into his pants pocket, clenching them in frustration, “I gathered that.”

“Did you… Were you asking me something?”

“No, no. Nothing important, just a theory I came across while working earlier.”

“Oh,” You mumbled an apology, “You can discuss it, if you want.”

He shook his head, rising from your shared table in the cafeteria, retreating to who-knows-where. Guilt plagued you, chest tightening, Miguel seeming particularly perturbed by your lack of attention.

You decided you would try to make it up to him, take him out somewhere, perhaps the three of you — himself, his daughter, you — could hang out like you’d done previously. Time dwindling as work piled higher. as thoughts of another took you away from where Miguel had once remained, nestled in your heart.

You couldn’t wait for him forever, realizing he hadn’t any feelings for you all those months ago.

Right?

Miguel felt nothing but pain.

An overwhelming clench of his chest as he was forced to watch you fall for someone else.

Granted, it was still him. He could still have you, if he wanted to, under the guise of Spider-Man.

But Miguel didn’t want that. He wanted you all to himself, everything that encompassed you. Fleeting glances, late nights, domesticity. All Miguel yearned for in this world was the prospect of your love, everything to himself.

Miguel wanted to worship you, wanted you to adore him, just as he did you. He didn’t want you to love Spider-Man, didn’t want this persona of himself to be the one you fell for.

And yet you had.

He fucking loathed it.

It pained him to think he was losing you to none other than himself. Pained him to think the only way he’d ever be able to love you was from behind a mask.

So when you approached him, heart on your sleeve, bright smile on your face as you inquired about an evening together, he hadn’t the faintest idea why he’d responded in the fashion he had.

“It’s a beautiful place,” You fawned, walking beside Miguel to your adjacent offices. A habit you’d built together, breakfast in each other’s company, “I heard Spider-Man dined there once. Or, rescued someone who was dining there? I really can’t remember.”

Miguel was thoroughly frustrated, fists balled at his sides. The entire journey you'd found someway to bring Spider-Man into the conversation. He didn't want that. He yearned for his name to fall from your lips as easily as his title. “Is that all you know how to talk about?”

“Excuse me?” You were unsure whether he meant his words with malice.

“I mean,” Miguel scoffed. Why was he doing this? He was losing all sense of reason the further you fell for Spider-Man, the further you strayed from his open arms. “It seems like lately all you want to discuss is Spider-Man! His suit, the way he speaks, the way he holds you.”

Maybe you'd gotten far too caught up in everything, more than you'd realized. In truth, you didn't believe the extent of your fawning had sauntered on insufferable, but perhaps it had been a flaw in your lapse of judgement.

Miguel made it seem as much.

“Does that… Does that bother you, Miguel?”

“Y-“ He paused, taking a deep breath, confused as to what his answer truly was. “Not at all. It’s an observation.”

You nodded in understanding, thumbs twidling in front of you, Miguel ceasing the movement with a squeeze of his hand, absentminded. He didn’t look to you, gaze still trained to the pavement before you.

So familiar, yet.

"Are you jealous?" You'd blurted the question without thinking, without considering what effect your — ill-thought — words would have on the man. His posture grew rigid, pupils dilated, scowl forming upon his angular features.

You didn't believe there to be a day in your life where Miguel scowled, extending an expression of such unadulterated malice. It was your own, you reasoned. His expression, this change seeming to occur before your eyes was nothing more than the consequences of your own actions.

But as his silence festered, continued, you found yourself growing increasingly insecure. After all, what had you anticipated his answer to be? Did you have a hope for how he would respond?

Did you yearn for Miguel to express the innermost working of his mind, the truth?

“We’re just work friends,” He spoke coldly, your heart clenching, burning. "Why on Earth would I have any reason to be jealous of what you do outside office hours?"

Work friends. A distinction between reality and augmentation. Perhaps, this entire time, you’d truly been imagining the magnetism that existed between the both of you — lingering hands, soft smiles, whispered affirmations — nothing more than figment.

A laugh fell from your lips — dry, overrun with regret. There was a point in time you wouldn't have believed him. Then, you would've bumped his shoulder, looking up at him with an expression of unfiltered joy, entirely joyous with your banter. He would be joking, a jester in his own right, and you’d be conscious of it.

Now…

Now you weren’t sure where you stood, and Miguel had made it his mission to make it abundantly clear, drawing that line you’d believed a blur.

Another byproduct of imagination, you supposed.

“Of course,” You conceded in an instant, the energy to refute his words, beg him for clarity long gone in a matter of seconds. “I shouldn’t have… I wasn’t thinking.”

“I can tell.”

Why had Miguel spoke to you like that?

Pain? Jealously? All that stemmed from his own actions?

You hadn’t visited him during your conveniently joint break, Miguel eating a lunch packed by his darling daughter in the dim lighting of his office — your voice echoing from down the hall, engaged in conversation with one of your coworkers, and while he hadn’t made it a habit to extend his Spider-abilities outside of his costume, he simply couldn’t resist.

An invitation for drinks, to spend time outside of work.

Work relationship transitioning from professional to platonic. Just as yours had months prior, perhaps a little too well.

Fuck.

Miguel returned home to his daughter that evening in shambles, doing his best to put on a smile for the young girl, repeating their nightly activities effortlessly — Friday evening, no need to worry about work or school the next morning.

Unless, of course, they called him in for some ridiculous reason, but it seemed unlikely given the trajectory of their progress.

He’d have his world — vida — entirely to himself. Nothing could take that right away from him, not this universe nor the one that followed. If he couldn’t have you, at least his daughter would be there to pick up the pieces of her father’s broken heart. Mending a man shattered without even realizing it.

But, in this life you were always the singular constant he could never take into proper consideration, entropic in nature.

When life threw a curveball, it was always you extending your arm in offense.

Miguel hadn't the faintest idea how to go about what had transpired between the two of you, helpless to your influence, hopeless in facing his feeling. A pile of putty between your fingers.

But as his darling child had him watching a sappy sparkly-princess movie, the two love interests defying the prospects of space and time in their journey towards true love — their love story rewritten in their favor, Miguel couldn't help the tears he shed. Couldn’t help the way his oblivious daughter teased her father, running tiny thumbs across his cheeks to wipe away his tears.

Couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted to you.

Missed call following missed call. Miguel had been attempting to contact you since early evening yesterday, continuing into this morning. By now, Saturday, the sun had begun its descent from the sky, disappearing along the horizon.

You'd yet to return his call, didn't know if you ever intended on doing so.

Surely he'd be seen bright and early Monday morning, punctuality his vice and simultaneous virtue. But whether or not he'd have a bagged bagel in hand, extended for your pleasure, was unclear.

Either way, you wouldn't blame him, you supposed.

Another call, his contact on display — an image of him you'd taken at the perfect opportunity, a breakthrough stemming from his work — and you couldn't help but clench your eyes in refusal.

It took a lot of convincing, far too much convincing for you to produce yourself from your bedsheets, having been invited out for a round of drinks by your co-workers. Initially, you'd refused, but their incessant attempt at convincing you had finally broke through.

So there you stood in the mirror, dressed to the nines in the best outfits you could've produced from your closet.

It wasn't particularly enchanting by any means, something you'd thrown together in the spur of the moment, simultaneously texting your coworker to inform them you'd be attending while dressing yourself, their excitement shimmering through text bubbles.

It had been a beautiful evening, the location a tavern-like establishment embellished with plants that rained down from the ceiling as though extending themselves to you, whispering your name and enveloping you in their embrace.

Jokes were exchanged, far too many beverages tossed about, but you maintained a decent level of sobriety despite everything. But even as you enjoyed your time, you couldn't help the thought that plagued your mind. Singular, the possibility of anything else replacing the thought inconceivable.

Miguel would adore it here.

He's a simple man, always was and always would be. He indulged in what was required, everything else simply a bonus stemming from his diligent educational prowess. An intelligent man, and he knew that in his entirety, never doubting himself.

Yet you made him feel so dumb, lost. Not a single textbook, equation or lecture could bring him any further into the depths of your mind than he'd began.

Did he like it that way?

Perhaps.

You bid your goodbyes as the evening hours fell into morning, the hustle and bustle of the city still at ease. But that didn't mean crime wasn't lurking at every corner, keen on corrupting the innocent, extending insecurities and fear upon the most unsuspecting of victims.

And that's exactly what occurred.

Hands enveloped you, not the welcomed kind like Spider-Man's or Miguel's, but ones that were laced with genuine discontent. Someone was making an attempt at your head. But for what?

"You seem well-off," The raspy voice was laced in alcohol, the corner of your eyes revealing a man with a stature that was nearly rat-like in nature. "Have anyone at home? A husband? Wife?"

You didn't know how to respond, didn't know if you should. The feeling of a chilled blade changed your confusion, morphing it into compliance.

You shook your head, nobody was waiting for you at home. Not that you wouldn’t like to change that, it simply wasn’t in the cards, divined by the universe.

"Good, good." His head peered around the corner, not a soul in sight, and suddenly you realized how dangerous it was to be here entirely on your lonesome. "You're gonna take me to your house, I'm gonna take whatever I want, and when I'm done you're not gonna tell a soul — not unless you intend on keeping this pretty little neck intact."

He slid the blade along your throat, your body physically rejecting it, bile seeping up your esophagus.

Suppose if you just complied, perhaps stalled for time, maybe he...

You couldn't rely on Spider-Man.

After all, he was a person too, someone with his own life and own aspirations. It was entirely possible he was well beyond asleep at this time, curled up in his bedsheets, unaware of the silent altercation occurring in some insignificant alley. While he was the city’s protector, that didn’t mean he had the divine ability to zero-in on the ins and outs of crime’s occurrences.

Spider-Man can’t save everyone.

You were entirely alone.

The man's grip was unrelenting as he led you down the sidewalk, head buzzing from the evening that'd just concluded, simultaneously palpitating at the prospect of your demise. He dug his unkempt nails into your biceps, forearms, anywhere you could sink himself into — a groan ripping from your clothed mouth with every unwelcome extension of discomfort — hadn't a single soul been out? This was such an active city at all times of day, only a few moments of leeway at any given time.

Suppose you were grossly unlucky.

The stroll hadn't taken much time, finding yourself a few feet away from your apartment building, the man's grip tightening, drawing blood every time you approached somewhere remotely populated. "Not a sound, not if you wanna make it to see the sunrise."

How tempted you were to call fate out on its bullshit, wanting to scream, bite down on his hand and sprint away. But there was so much unfinished business, so much you'd yet to live through. If you simply cooperated, did as you were told, perhaps you'd find the fruits of your suffering weren't as sour as they seemed.

Just as you'd conceded, leading him towards the fire escape that would produce you outside your window — convincing yourself there was nothing left except compliance, a weight was lifted from your shoulders.

Some shuffles, groans and noises of struggle. But when all was said and done, Spider-Man stepped into the light of a flickering streetlight. He appeared distressed, frantic as he approached you with hesitant movements. His hands hovered your shoulders, looking you over, wordless in his late-night examination.

And then you cried.

You cried because you were alone. Cried because you’d nearly died, and what would you have had to show for it? You’ve been so enthralled by a man bathed in red and blue hues that you’d neglected the happenings of life you’d worked so tirelessly to achieve — your career, friendships, relationships — all because you were scared, all because you couldn’t get some fantasy off your mind.

You’d been rescued by the very man you prayed would come to your aid, looking to the heavens as you begged the universe to send him to you.

But that wasn’t who your mind wandered to when you thought of Spider-Man, was it?

No. When you rationalized your death, convinced yourself Spider-Man wouldn’t be there for your rescue, you weren’t truly thinking of the midnight crusader.

Your mind had wandered to Miguel.

“Let’s get you home,” Spider-Man spoke as though his throat were clenched, merely holding out a hand, unable to take you into his embrace. “You shouldn’t be out at this time, not alone.”

And all you could think of was Miguel, how he wouldn’t have hesitated to envelop you then and there, previous quarrel be damned.

Miguel who always seemed acutely in-tune with your emotions, who would bend the heavens and the earth to ensure your happiness. Your lives previous had been hopefully, expectant. Friends and families wondering when things would become official, when your ever-obvious feelings would be unveiled to one another — relief falling upon all those who stood by helplessly, watching with indignant compliance.

But that never happened.

“I don’t… Please don’t take me home.” You were practically begging, holding onto yourself with an unrelenting grip, imagining another in its place. You couldn’t go home, not after everything you’d experienced, not with the thoughts that plagued your mind. You feared if you were to return home, the man would be there awaiting your arrival, even as his body lay numb in the alleyway opposite yourself.

Spider-Man didn’t hesitate, hadn’t argued. “Where can I take you?”

Then you pondered, truly pondered his inquiry. Where could he take you? Certainly your co-workers would have long-since fallen asleep following their intoxicated stupors. Not that it would be particularly professional of you to appear at the doorstep of newly-formed acquaintances. Family? You had none, all having fled Nueva York in the midst of the crime that plagued the city, the dangers that lurked prior to Spider-Man’s self-anointed inauguration — protector of the city, defender of the innocent.

“Miguel.” His name fell from your lips like second-nature, muscle memory. You hadn’t even been aware you’d spoken such until the deed was done, Spider-Man’s clothed eyes widening beside you.

The Spider was hesitant. “Do you trust him?” And you found it endearing how he was concerned with your decision-making skills.

Anyone would be, considering you’d been able to convince yourself a midnight stroll was wise.

“With my entire life,” And if it weren’t for your shivering frame still overtaken with the memory of near-death, you would’ve smiled, warmth seeping into your chest. Because in your heart, unconsciously, you knew your words were as factual as the nucleic acids that made up your genetic code.

“I’ll take you to him.” He spoke it like a final decision, the defining factor.

And so he had. This journey was entirely different than ones taken previously. Your head didn’t hammer with the prospect of sharing secrets, didn’t yearn to discover who lurked behind the mask. Your mind entirely belonged to Miguel, that darling man, and how he might react to your presence.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

You’d arrived at the man’s windowsill, Spider-Man insisting it was a better alternative, easy-access to ensure safety. You crept through the window, turning to thank your savior, only to find Spider-Man long gone — nothing to indicate he’d ever been there, an anomaly in his own right.

Furniture stirred somewhere in the other room as you crouch to enter Miguel’s home, a curse under someone’s breath — someone you couldn’t see. “Miguel…?” There was no response, your hands moving to shut the window, transitioning to wrap around your center.

No, you shouldn’t be here.

Miguel had a daughter, he had priorities apart from you. You couldn’t just barge into his home because you had a fucked evening, tears in your eyes and bruises littering your body. He didn’t deserve this, not after the fight you’d had just hours prior to this moment.

Miguel didn’t see you like that, he’d never seen you like that, never could — and even if he was the person your mind wandered to, glued to, in your most vulnerable moments, that didn’t mean he felt the same of you.

You were just friends from work, right?

You turned on your heels, retreating quickly to his window from whence you came, wondering why it was unlocked in the first place if Miguel and his daughter were sound asleep. Surely he wasn’t that careless, not the Miguel you knew.

Then you wondered if it was safe for you to be out right now.

Granted, it seemed it wasn’t safe anywhere, but tonight in particular seemed foreboding, a call to which you didn’t know the answer.

The call of your name from behind you, Miguel standing in his pajamas, chest heaving as though he’d just ran a marathon. He was frazzled, hair unkempt, eyes filled with something — exhaustion, perhaps — but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what.

He called your name again upon your silence, unsure whether he was hallucinating in the midst of exhaustion, and you swear you saw stars.

“Miguel… Miguel I’m…”

He approached you slowly, your frame illuminated by the moonlight, appearing ethereal. You were everything he’d ever dreamed of, what his heart yearned for. Here you were, standing in his apartment, and he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe out of everyone you’d gone to him for consolation, whispering his name into his suit-clad arms. “You’re hurt…” He spoke in a whisper — as though he hadn’t noticed prior, and while he hadn’t been oblivious to your injuries, he'd only come to realize the extent in this very moment.

“Who did this, Amor? What happened”

“I dont…” You were choking on your words, looking away from him. But upon his approach to close the burning distance between you, he tilted you to face him ever-so delicately. “I don’t know, but Spider-Man...”

Miguel was frantic in his speaking, “Was he there?”

You could only respond through a sob, better than nothing. “Of course he was, Miguel.” Another hitch of your breath, "He brought me here... To you."

He thanked Spider-Man, thanked himself. If he hadn’t shouldered the burden, taken this god-forsaken job, he would’ve been unable to save you.

Who knows what would’ve happened then.

"Didn't know the Spider-Man knew where I lived." A joke to himself, knowing you hadn't the faintest idea it was a joke to begin with. How he adored the expression that fanned across your puffed eyes, looking up to him as though he'd hung the moon and the stars before you. Enchanted by his presence.

"I'm the one that—"

He shushed you quietly, enveloping you in his warm embrace, the smell of his cologne wafting around you, grounding you.

It'd been forever since you'd been in such close proximity to Miguel, felt as though you hadn't experienced his warmth in centuries. There was a point in time where moments like this, extended vulnerabilty, were entirely common. Of course, they were quiet moments exclusively between the two of you, instances where you were certain nobody would be there to witness them — reserved only for the both of you, your own memories, untainted by the outside world.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to dwell on the past, and yet you couldn't help yourself, insecurity taking shape.

“I should go, I…” You turned to his door, foregoing any attempts at clambering out the window, Miguel’s firm grip faltering from around your shoulders, sliding around your wrist as he simultaneously pulled you into his chest, fighting tears as he listened to sobs muffled by his cotton white tee.

“Don’t go,” He was crying now, one hand playing with the ends of your hair while the other rubbed circles against your back. “Don’t leave, not tonight.”

“I can’t, your daughter—“

“Will understand that the person I love is in distress. She’s a smart kid, reminds me of you.”

“Miguel?”

He loved how his name fell from your lips. Through giggles, through spouts of frustration, even through tears. “Mi Vida?”

“Did you just say… Did you say you…”

Miguel laughed at your hesitance, palm caressing your cheek, “Take your time, I’m listening.”

“Did you just say you love me?”

“Did I?” Miguel chuckled, a kiss feathering the top of your head, “I can’t seem to remember.”

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Princess Tara

Summary: You and Tara Carpenter never got along much. One of the things she looked forward to when leaving Woodsboro was never having to see you again. But one day she unexpectedly bumps into you on her first day at Blackmore University

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking and mentions of intoxication, the loving part of their enemies to lovers story has definitely not started yet

Notes: This is gonna be fun

Masterlist|Next part

It was Tara’s first day and of course she was already running late for her first class. She had turned down the maps that were offered at the entrance… goodness did she regret that now.

About seven minutes left until the start of her class and she was ninety nine percent sure she was walking in a circle. She figured she would make one more attempt before asking for help. Just as she began to walk another lap, she bumped into somebody. She was about to apologize but cut herself off once she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorr—oh it’s you,” her apologetic tone quickly turned sour. 

You rolled your eyes at this. “Lovely seeing you too,” you quipped.

Tara scoffed as she knelt down. “What are you even doing here?” she asked while picking up her belongings, you did the same, grabbing a couple of your pens that had fallen.

“Well, you know how I’ve always adored college campuses. I can’t get enough of’em,” you snarked, earning yourself a familiar unamused expression from Tara. 

Oh, you’ve missed that. 

You exhaled, giving her a look, before continuing, “What does it look like, princess? I’m attending college.”

Tara didn’t appreciate your matter-of-fact tone. She stood before roughly shoving one of your books to your chest. “We’ve been over this, don’t call me that.”

You’ve had the same nickname for Tara for years now. It pissed her off each time you used it, and each time you felt yourself grow with amusement. 

“I mean, what are you doing here—in New York?” 

“Decided I’d go to a college near my family. What’s it to you?”

Tara rolled her eyes. She sees your condescending tone is still very much present. Gosh, how she despised you. Just when she thinks she has gotten away from everything she left behind without looking back, you show up with your ceaseless snarkiness. 

“You know how much I’ve missed our back and forths, but I have no idea where I’m going and my class starts any minute now.”

You didn’t let the blatant sarcasm she started out with stop you from playing into the compliment. “You sure know how to make a girl blush.” 

Unfortunately, her attention wasn’t on you. Her eyes were wandering, almost frantically, as she tried to look for the door to her film class. You wondered why she didn’t just grab a map at the entrance. You wore a small smile and looked at the girl. 

“Lucky you, we’re headed in the same direction. My class isn't far from your destination,” you told her.

“Great. Perfect. Show me?” Tara impatiently asked, immediately filled with regret as she saw the smug smirk that played on your face. She wanted nothing more than to slap it right—

“—As you wish,” you winked at her and began to walk.

 Tara let out a small groan, a familiar feeling returned at your action. The same feeling she got when you pulled a prank on those cheerleaders who teased her or whenever you seeked her praise after pulling another one of your mischievous stunts on the town. It was bad enough you were making your problems her own, you didn’t need to give her a sickening feeling on top of it. She always excused that feeling as stress, stress you gave her. 

She always did wonder why you did what you did to those cheerleaders. She feels vain for even assuming she was a contributing factor, it’s probably just a coincidence. But then again, that smile you gave her after Chad told her what happened said otherwise. Right?

She never understood you. She didn’t understand you then, and she doesn’t understand you now. You were insufferable to no end. 

“We art h’re,” you said, snapping her from her thoughts. Tara noted another thing that hasn't changed; you were a major dork. Wait… did she only walk about three steps?

“Are you serious, it was right here?”

“You were never good at direction,” you remarked. 

“And you’re still as infuriating as ever.”

You shook your head, disappointment on your face. “That’s no way to thank somebody. Where've your manners gone?” You feigned a hurt look, placing your hand over your chest.

“Blah blah pthh,” she mocked you. Still mature as ever, you see. 

“Good one,” you said in a monotone voice. 

“Thank you,” she said with the same energy. “Now, I get you’re obsessed with me, but I have to get to class.” Without waiting for a response, she shoved passed you and entered the classroom. 

A downward smile played on your face as you watched Tara walk into her classroom. Once she was fully inside, you walked the long distance to your own classroom. As you made your way to your class, Tara sat down next to Mindy with a huff.

“Uh oh, I know that look. What’s up your ass this time?” Mindy asked while Tara settled in the seat beside her. 

“The same pain in my ass from high school,” Tara grumbled.

Mindy raised her eyebrows, immediately hit with recognition. She knew exactly who Tara was referring to. “Shit. Really? Never thought I’d get to see you two at it again. Never say never I guess,” she sighed as Tara groaned and put her head down. 

—

You opened the door to your shared apartment, throwing your bag on the floor and dramatically plopping down on the coach. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the door to your roommates room opened.

“Y/N, you up?” she asked.  You opened your eyes before sitting up and nodding at her. “Okay good, I need your opinion.” She held up two tops. “Which one should I go with?”

“Uh… left one for sure,” you answered, pointing to the left top. 

“Right?” she said in agreement. 

 She’s been talking to this girl for a bit now and tonight would be their second date. “So, when do I get to meet the girl that has my roommate so smitten?”

“And you embarrass me? Yeah, no. I’m gonna hold off on that.” 

You jokingly scoff at her comment. “Come on, Anika. I solemnly swear,” you said while saluting. 

Anika let out a small laugh, “I’ve never been more convinced,” she sarcastically replied. 

Later that night, you’re left alone in the apartment with nothing to do while Anika is out on her date. You try to pass the time by watching whatever sitcoms are on, before getting a message from one of your friends asking if you were free. 

Henry (8:32 pm) you free? I’m so fucking bored rn 😩

bestie (8:33 pm) what do you have in mind?

Henry (8:33 pm) heard about a frat party goin on tn

bestie (8:34 pm) idk, you know how I am with parties

Henry (8:34 pm) ohhh come onnn my little wallflower pleaseee

bestie (8:35 pm) I don’t feel like being around people rn

Henry (8:35 pm) you NEVER feel like being around people

Henry (8:35 pm) besides there’ll be that balless beer you like and you can stay in your little corner if you want

bestie (8:36 pm) Fine. 

Henry (8:36 pm) YAYY pick you up in fifteen?

bestie (8:37 pm) okay

Read at 8:37 pm

When the two of you arrived at the party, you immediately wanted to curl up into a ball. Henry stayed by your side for a while but then ventured off to do his own thing. You sat down on a couch, beer in hand, as your right leg bounced. 

A large part of you just wished this couch would swallow you whole.

Not far from where you sat, Chad and Ethan leaned against a wall as they talked. Chad told Ethan that this was the night, the night they would find the girl for Ethan. But after about an hour of looking and rejections, Ethan wasn’t feeling as great as he was when the night first started. Maybe he should just call it—oh cute girl. 

“Wait—what about her? She’s cute.” Ethan pointed towards a couch, a hopeful smile on his face. 

Chad looked in the direction to where he was pointing. His eyes widened at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Holy crap.”

Ethan scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What is it? Is she taken or something?” 

“Uh, you know that girl that Tara was ranting about earlier?”

“Yeah. She was pissed, but what does that have—oh. Oh. That’s her?”

Chad nodded as he looked at you then back at the curly haired boy. “Oh boy,” was all he could say before sipping on the red solo cup in his hand.

As Chad gave Ethan a little more context on you and Tara, Henry walked over and sat down beside you. “What’s up?” he asked while lightly nudging the side of his knee with yours.

“I feel like eyes are on me, but I don’t know from where and it’s really starting to tick me off,” you told him before you took another sip of your beer. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re not being, like, stalked or something,” he said in his reassuring voice.

You nodded before you looked down your bottle to see you finished it. “I’m out. Come with me to get another?”

Henry hummed and you both got up, walking towards the table where all the drinks were. You really didn’t care for drinking, you found most of what was on the table disgusting. The table wreaked, you could practically feel your nose hairs burning off. You only ever drank this one brand of beer, ‘ball-less beer’ as Henry likes to say. It was low-alcohol and you were fine with that. You needed something to do at these parties you were dragged out to without making yourself look like an idiot. 

As Henry was talking to somebody else, you were beside him. When you went for the bottle not far from you, a familiar voice reached your ears. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice before rolling your eyes.

“At this point you’re stalking me, you have to be,” Tara added with exasperation.

“Someone’s full of it. A friend dragged me here, Carpenter, not everything pertains to you,” you said with unapologetic sarcasm. 

“I’m supposed to believe you actually have a friend?” she questioned with an incredulous look.

“Now you know how I felt when I discovered there was more than one person that supposedly tolerates you,” you shot back, slightly tilting your head. “But the more you know, I guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that you can’t comprehend what it’s like to be tolerated,” she quipped, returning the condescending energy you spoke with. She lifted one of the bottles of Vodka, inspecting it, before tucking it under her arm. 

You noticed this and stayed silent. This caught you off guard for some reason. Maybe you never thought you would see the day when princess Tara would be going to frat parties and drinking. She hasn’t changed, yet has, all at once. 

Her comment was long forgotten as you got lost in your own train of thought. Tara walked away just as you returned with a tap on your shoulder. You looked and saw Henry. 

“You alright?” he asked you. The person he was just talking to had left.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna head back,” you said.

“Want me to join you?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s okay. You can go. You know where to find me.”

“Alright, but let me know when you wanna leave,” he said. He raised his fist and you reciprocated, bumping fists. He gave you one last nod before he left, already catching up with someone he knew. He was always the social butterfly. 

You sat back down on the couch, snapping off the cap to the beer bottle you grabbed and taking a sip. It was disgusting but, as established earlier, it was something to do. You took out your phone and scrolled through your notifications where you saw two messages from your older brother. You clicked on one of the messages.

Dickhead (9:01 pm) mom wants to know if you’re coming over for Lily’s birthday 

007 (9:43 pm) as far as I know

Dickhead (9:45 pm) took you long enough

007 (9:46 pm) relax, it was only 42 mins

Dickhead (9:46 pm) how do I know you didn’t get kidnapped in those 42 mins????

007 (9:47 pm) You’re so fucking dramatic

Dickhead (9:47 pm) am I? Or are you not dramatic enough?

Dickhead (9:48 pm) where even are you rn

007 (9:48 pm) Some stupid party, not that it's your business?

Dickhead (9:49 pm) whatever idc 

007 (9:49 pm) Seems like you do

Dickhead (9:50 pm) I should block you

You were about to send the reply you typed up but a loud thud against a nearby wall stopped you. You looked up and saw an extremely drunk looking Tara being held up by Chad. You recalled him as one of her friends from Woodsboro. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to go home,” he told the intoxicated girl.

She shook her head in defiance. “No, ‘m fine,” she slurred, still struggling to stand on her own.

“Yo, Ethan!” Chad called over a curly haired boy, Tara winced at his volume. The other boy nodded, and seconds later, the three exited the party, leaving you with a weight at the pit of your stomach.

You guess some things really have changed since you last saw Tara. 

Back at the Carpenter-Bailey residence, a worried Sam anxiously awaits for her little sister. The flush of relief she felt when Chad messaged her lasted only so long while each minute stretched. She was debating whether or not she should go to them when she heard knocking. As soon as she looked through the peep hole, she opened the door, here worry immediately taking over.

“Finally, I was worried sick! I was trying to call—wait, is she drunk?” Between the speed of Sam’s words and their volume, Tara grew nauseous and overwhelmed.

“Ugh, too loud,” she groaned; she looked half asleep as she leaned against Chad.

Sam sighed at the sight of her sister. Since they moved to New York, this wasn’t a foreign state to see her sister in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m gonna wash you up. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” she said in a gentle voice as she got closer to her sister, ready to take her off Chad's hands.

Tara immediately clung onto Sam’s waist, the action tugging at the older Carpenter’s heart. Chad mumbled an apologetic, “sorry,” as Sam walked Tara to the bathroom.

After it was ensured that Tara was alright and taken care of, Chad said his goodbyes, along with Ethan, before leaving.

—

It was the next day, and you had history. Ten minutes passed and just as you were taking notes, the door slammed open. Everyone turned their head and saw Tara wearing a black hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of sunglasses. You could safely assume she was suffering from a killer hangover after last night. 

Your professor, who stood at the front of the classroom, looked at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses with a subtle sigh. “Find a seat,” he lazily said before continuing the lesson.

Everyone else returned their attention to the professor, or whatever else they were doing before, but your own eyes followed Tara. You couldn’t help but notice the only available seat was beside you, how ridiculously convenient. Why wouldn’t today be the day people felt especially curious?

With numerous painful steps, Tara approached the seat beside you. By the time she arrived, you had already turned back to your notes. “You could’ve just skipped,” you whispered without skipping a beat, still not looking up from your notes.

“Sam made me go,” she grumbled back whilst she attempted to subtly tilt her head to catch a glimpse of your notes.

“You live with your sister?” you asked; you used your arm to block her view of your notebook.

She rolled her eyes, painfully so, her head was throbbing. “And?” she inquired in a defensive voice.

You shook your head, finally looking away from your notes. “Meant nothing by it. She seems nice,” you reassured her.

“Since when have you two talked? I mean—obviously you two crossed paths. But I didn’t realize you two had talked talked. Like, obviously, at some point in time—” 

Familiar with the Carpenter’s rambling routine, you cut her off before she could speak further. “—Me and her briefly met earlier, before… yeah,” you said.

That was as specific as you were, it was as specific as you would like to be. You weren’t hiding anything, you just wanted the metallic taste in your mouth to go away.

“Really?” Now Tara was curious. “When was that?”

You exhaled, putting down your pencil. You already had a feeling you weren’t going to get much work done with Tara sitting right beside you. “Maybe if you spent as much time taking notes as you did interrogating me, you wouldn’t have to peek over my shoulder every five seconds.”

Tara immediately looked away from your notes as she slumped in her chair. “Whatever, Y/L/N. I’m only here because it’s a mandatory class,” she said. 

“Geez,” you mumbled to yourself before throwing a pencil to Tara. “At least look like you’re doing something.”

After what felt like an eternity, the class finally came to an end. It didn’t take long for you and Tara to grow sick of one another. You were both more than ready to leave, almost racing out the door on your way out.

Outside the classroom, you met Anika. You were about to greet her when Tara shoved passed you without sparing a single glance. You rolled your eyes, something you found yourself doing a lot, as you exhaled, “fucking princess.” 

The interaction may have been just a few seconds at most, but Anika still felt the tension. She could slice through it with a knife. 

“Y/N, please don’t tell me that’s the girl you’ve been ranting about,” your roommate practically pleaded.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at this. “Yes…”

“Of course she is,” she sighed. “Well, that girl I’ve been seeing?” 

“Mhm?”

“They’re friends.”

“Really? That’s… great,” you said whilst attempting a supporting smile for your friend.

This was going to be quite the year.

-----------

A/N: First chapter finally posted!

(EDIT) A/N: I think this came out well