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odyssean-flower · 2 days ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 17 - Summer: In the Moonlight

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your sister's birthday ball begins, but a surprise guest arrives...

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Have a picture of Neuvillette with this little baby

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The first drops of precipitation landed on Neuvillette’s face. It took him a second to register it before he looked up at the grey skies.

“Aah...” he let out a sigh. While the rain and damp air soothed his mind, it also brought a heaviness to his mind. I should try to restrain myself for today. A birthday party should be a cheerful occasion, with sunny weather and clear skies.

Besides, he didn’t want to disappoint you more than he already did.

The trials had proceeded faster than he expected, though it was now late afternoon. They were mostly over petty offences and disputes. Even the Oratrice seemed to issue its verdicts a little quicker than usual, as though it was also impatient to get the day over with.

And now he was back at the Palais, standing in a corner outside the doors. He absentmindedly watched the people rushing about, looking for shelter from the rain.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind, imagining the flat surface of the sea. It seemed to work somewhat, but the sky remained leaden.

Throughout the centuries of his existence, Neuvillette had learned a few methods to settle his emotions after a trial. One of them was to distract himself with work, which was why he returned to his office even though he technically had the rest of the day to himself. He could have also returned home, but with Marie visiting family and you away for the whole day, the thought of going back to an empty, silent house seemed almost unbearable.

Yet another oddity that he noticed within himself recently. He usually relished quiet and solitude.

Shaking his head slightly, he entered the Palais and greeted Sedene before heading into his office, where he was met with a surprise but very welcome guest.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sigewinne, the head nurse of Meropide, waved her hand merrily at him from the couch. Feeling his mind lighten considerably at the mere sight of her, he strode over to her quickly. There was a tray of tea and cakes in front of her.

“Sigewinne, what a pleasant surprise. I did not know that you had a day off today.”

“Hee hee, I wanted to keep it a surprise!” she bounced over to him with two small boxes. “The Duke also sends his greetings, as well as two boxes of tea.”

“How generous of him. Give him my thanks when you return,” Neuvillette accepted the boxes and studied them. He recognized them as black tea leaves from a high-end brand. He could smell the fragrance of the tea leaves even through the packaging.

“The Duke says he’s giving you two so that you’ll have more to share with Madame. Oh, actually, he said ‘your friend.’ Don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, I didn’t breathe a word about who Madame is to you. I doubt he knows anything.”

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t pursue it any further. I suppose it’s alright if it’s Wriothesley, he thought. He is not the type of person to engage in idle gossip.

“He also says that he hopes Madame will like it, and that if she doesn’t, then feel free to ask him for another variety from his collection,” Sigewinne added.

“I do think she would enjoy it,” Neuvillette assured her, though he wondered about it. He didn’t believe he saw you drinking tea very much, except during the meeting with Furina. He did, however, remember seeing you drink Fonta on numerous occasions (it appears his endeavours to introduce you to the many varieties of water hadn’t yet borne fruit). Perhaps you preferred sweeter beverages. He tried to recall the pantry back home. Do we have enough sugar cubes or milk?

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” his musings were interrupted by Sigewinne’s voice. She was gazing up at him in confusion, her face tilted slightly.

Neuvillette shook his head, clearing it. “Pardon me, I was lost in my thoughts.” he said, then followed her to the couch, where they engaged in their usual conversation, which inevitably ended in her listening to his water commentary.

“Oh, by the way, Monsieur Neuvillette I really am looking forward to the sunflower viewing party in a few weeks. I can’t wait to finally meet Madame!” Sigewinne said after he finished talking about the properties of water from Mondstadt’s Cider Lake. “She sounds wonderful from what you’ve said of her. Did she come and watch your trials today? Has she already gone home? I don’t see her with you...”

“No...no, actually, she is currently attending her sister’s birthday party back home.”

“Oh, I see...” Sigewinne peered at his face, then glanced out the window. The rain seemed to have stopped completely, but there was no sign of the sun either. She suddenly turned back to peer into his face. “You must miss her.”

“Miss her? No, of course not. She will only be away until tomorrow,” Neuvillette said, almost automatically. But it was the truth. Besides, it was not as though he saw you every second of every day. In fact, it was rather common for him to only see you in the morning and at night. It should not be any different for this time, except for the fact that you would not be at home to greet him when he returned, or bid him good night or good morning...

Before I knew it, I’ve come to expect these things...

“Oh dear,” Sigewinne remarked as thunder rumbled. “Monsieur Neuvillette, how about we take a stroll through the streets? I’ve been wanting to check out the new beauty products on sale anyways.”

“Yes, let us do so,” Neuvillette agreed, then stood up. Guilt welled up within him. He didn’t feel himself lately, and he was letting it affect his emotional state far too much. He was even making Sigewinne worried about him.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. “While we’re out, allow me to introduce you to a new drink called an ice cream soda. Madame introduced it to me yesterday. The flavor is quite intriguing. I do think you’ll like it.”

“Ooh, if you’re saying that, then I have to try it!” Sigewinne clapped her hands together excitedly.

A short time later, the two of them walked out of the ice cream shop with their drinks in hand, leaving behind astonished employees and gawking patrons. They sat down at a table in the back. Thankfully, the surrounding tables were empty due to the bad weather.

“This is good,” Sigewinne commented after she took a sip. “I especially love the fizzy soda bubbles. I’m going to tell the others about this later. ...Monsieur Neuvillette, what’s wrong? Your brow is furrowed. Do you not like yours?”

“No, that’s not it...” Neuvillette murmured, staring at his soda. How peculiar. He was sure he had ordered the same flavor you had bought for him. It tasted the same as well. He could tell that objectively, nothing had changed. But what was this sense of wrongness. Is it the soda, perhaps? Did the shop change the variety they used today? Should I inquire about it?

Neuvillette glanced at the shop entrance, which now had a line of people stretching out of it, and decided against it. The staff should not waste their precious time on his trivial question.

He turned back to Sigewinne, who was watching him closely. “There is nothing wrong with my drink, exactly. It is just that it doesn’t quite taste the same as it had yesterday, even though it is the same drink.”

“That is strange...” Sigewinne tilted her small head to the side, as if in thought. “It’s unlikely they would change the recipe in just a day, right? Maybe Madame asked them to add a little something extra. You should ask her.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Neuvillette nodded, then took another sip of his soda. It wasn’t just his imagination--it really did taste different. It had been so hot yesterday. Perhaps that affected things.

All he knew was that the sweetness of the ice cream soda you bought him lingered in his mouth for the whole day.

“What I mean is, Monsieur Neuvillette, you should go and ask Madame now.”

Neuvillette blinked. “Now?” he repeated.

Sigewinne nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. We both know that you can reach the other side of Fontaine in just a few minutes, and Sedene told me before that you don’t have anything important scheduled for the rest of the day.”

“That’s true, but...I cannot simply show up at her family’s home unexpectedly for such a trivial reason. It will only draw unnecessary attention, and it is already so terribly late in the day...”

He found himself making excuses one after the other. They sounded empty to his ears, even though there was sound reason behind them.

He was no stranger to the clash between emotion and logic--it was something he struggled with all too often. This was no exception. He didn’t understand why that brief look of disappointment had flashed across your face when you asked him if he would like to accompany you to the birthday party. Surely you knew that it was better for you two to not be seen together too much. He did not understand why you had asked him in the first place, nor why the first thing on the tip of his tongue was to say “Yes,” nor why your subsequent justification for his sake had stung him.

If he went to you right now, would he find the answers to those questions?

“Monsieur Neuvillette...” Sigewinne crossed her arms. “It seems to me like you’re making excuses for yourself. If I invited you to my party, I would be happy that you showed up no matter how late. But if you’re worried about it, then...” she rummaged through her bag and took out a small vial. “Here! Give this to Madame’s sister.”

Neuvillette took the vial and examined the label. “A skin serum?”

“I made it myself! Skincare is all the rage among young ladies of the Court these days. Tell her that it’s from me. Everyone loves receiving gifts on their birthday, after all, so maybe this will help soften the blow of your lateness.”

“I’m still not sure if I should take leave for such an inconsequential matter,” Neuvillette hesitated, even as his mind was calculating the time it would take to go from the Court to your hometown near the mountains in the northeast. I do think I’ll be able to get there before dark. “What if an emergency comes up?”

“The Gardes can handle anything,” Sigewinne assured him. “And I don’t think it’s inconsequential at all! You were invited as a guest. I’m sure your presence there will make everyone very happy, including Madame.”

“If you say so, Sigewinne, then I suppose I could stop by for a little bit and give your present,” Neuvillette was already standing up. “I do apologize that I can’t spend more time with you today.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll see each other again at the sunflower viewing party at your house,” Sigewinne smiled at him. “I can’t wait to meet Madame.”

“I feel the same way. She would be delighted to meet you as well,” he said, and meant every word of it.

After saying his goodbyes, he quickly strode away, back to the Palais. I have to write a note of absence for Furina first, and then collect some things. What sort of water would be appropriate for a birthday party, I wonder...

“Monsieur Neuvillette is already very cute, but he’s gotten even more adorable lately,” Sigewinne murmured to herself as she observed the sun breaking through the dense clouds at last.

It was well into the evening now, and the ball was in full swing.

For an event planned on such short notice, you had to admit it turned out quite well. The large assembly-hall, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and glittering chandelier, was festooned with colorful flowers and garlands. There was even a small orchestra playing music, which relieved you of piano duty. The bulk of it was thanks to Dominic’s generosity, though you suspected that it was much out of a desire to throw a ball as it was due to his affection for your sister.

The guests dressed in accordance to the instructions on their invitations--everywhere you looked, you saw flowers in buttonholes, pinned to chests, and tucked under hair ribbons.

You, as well, was wearing a Pluie Lotus in your hair, which was tied up in a bun. You were wearing the old ballgown you had worn previous months ago, as the dress you had brought with you originally was more suited for a tea party than a ball. Justine had been quite incensed. “The next time I see him, I’m definitely going to tell him to buy you a closet full of gowns,” she declared.

The birthday girl was, of course, the center of attention. Right now, she was dancing with Dominic, her blithe laughter reaching the veranda where you were resting. The bottom of her skirts occasionally lifted off the floor, showing off her new shoes. You had given her your present before heading out to the assembly-hall, and she had wrapped you in a tight embrace and showered you with a profusion of thank-yous.

She and Dominic appeared to have grown even closer in the months since you last saw them together. He seemed to hold a genuine affection for her. It wouldn’t shock you if they ended up engaged to each other by the end of the year. That was certainly what your mother was hoping for. Though, from what you gathered from her conversations with her friends, there was some opposition from Dominic’s relatives, who looked down on your family’s small fortune and lack of connections.

Hmm, come to think of it, did she mean for me to overhear that part?

You were mostly busy with helping your mother coordinate the servants and helping with the guests (despite the fact that this was supposed to be a celebration for you as well), but you had already danced your fair share with two of Dominic’s friends, who quickly became popular with the young ladies in attendance. It wasn’t hard to see why--they were handsome and amiable. Even you thought that if you had met them a few years ago, you probably would have fallen in love with them by the end of the night.

You weren’t wild for dancing like Justine and her friends, but it was nice to enjoy it for once without having the ever-present burden of searching for potential husbands on your mind.

Surprisingly, you were enjoying yourself. The refreshments were tasty, the atmosphere was relaxing, and the company, which consisted mainly of your few relatives, family friends, and your sister’s many friends and their families, was similarly pleasant. Most people here were under the impression that you moved to the city in order to take part in the social season. Now, if only your best friend Anne were here, it would all be just perfect...

You leaned against the banister and tilted your head back, gazing up at the bright moon. You were enjoying yourself, yes, but being around family friends and neighbors always had an odd way of tiring you out faster than climbing the hills near the town or trekking all the way to the ruins.

I wonder what’s he doing right now...

The thought was accompanied by a twinge of guilt. In Fontaine, dancing was considered a social activity much like going to the theater. There was nothing inherently romantic about it, and this was a ball, after all--it was to be expected. Besides, it was the perfect chance for networking. In your future line of work, forming connections was everything. And...why does it feel like I’m justifying cheating?

You shook your head to clear it. Really, the only incriminating thing here was that you were at a ball without Neuvillette’s knowledge, and even that was debatable. And I am planning on telling him about all of this after I come home.

As a part of her harebrained scheme to “make Monsieur Neuvillette jealous,” Justine took pictures of you when you danced. You told her that there was no way that a mature and levelheaded man like him would get jealous over the horrible transgression of you dancing at a ball held by your own family, but she dismissed your objections. “My romance intuition is saying otherwise,” she said, and that was that. She, like your mother, was also a voracious reader of romance novels. “Once I get them developed, I’ll send them to him.”

Honestly, you had no idea what went on in that girl’s mind sometimes. You made a mental note to apologize to Neuvillette in advance once you returned.

“Aah...” you let out a yawn, feeling strangely tired. It felt like centuries since you participated in a function with so many people. Having to talk to so many people and smile and remember what you talked about with them last time...it felt uncanny and surreal to do those things. It was like putting on an old sweater after a long period of time but finding that it didn’t fit quite right. At least they lost interest after you mostly gave them vague, noncommittal answers.

It’s like one of those old tales where the protagonist returns home after spending half the year in fairyland and finds herself unable to cope with her mundane life.

As soon as that thought flitted across your mind, you laughed at yourself. What a ridiculous comparison!You had simply grown too accustomed to living in Neuvillette’s quiet house and only going out when you felt like it.

To everyone here, you were still the plain and taciturn baron’s daughter, and you had no desire to change that impression. There was comfort in being who everyone thought you were and not straying from it. But there was a small part of you that wondered just what would happen if you told everyone that you were the Iudex’s wife. You were almost tempted, just to see their reactions. The keyword was “almost.”

You had never carried a secret like this before. It was nerve-wracking, thrilling, and also lonely. It felt like there was yet another bubble separating you from everyone else--protective, yes, but also tempting to exult in the excitement of popping it before having to deal with the consequences.

One of your favorite novel series as a child had been about an unassuming young lady who moonlighted as a brilliant detective. You had often wondered why she let herself almost get caught in nearly every installment--well now, you felt that you understood a little.

Maybe this is why masquerade balls are so popular these days? Maybe I could suggest to Justine about holding one for her next birthday. Hmm, I wonder if she’d be married by then...

You glanced over at the ballroom, where Justine and Dominic were laughing together. He seemed like a good-hearted young man who clearly had a lot of affection for your sister. As a choice of husband, he was quite adequate. Judging from the conversations you overheard, most of the guests agreed with you on that.

“My dear niece, here you are!” a harried-looking woman rushed towards you with three young children in tow. It was your aunt Cecile and her triplets. She was your mother’s younger sister. “I must go to the ladies’ room for a bit. Please watch over the children for me!”

“Sure,” you nodded, and she immediately left. You had a feeling she was going to be in the ladies’ room for a while.

You looked at the six-year-old triplets, who looked back at you with big, rounded eyes. They were two boys and one girl, and could be quite a handful. Their father was currently abroad on a business trip, so you pitied your aunt all the more.

“Cousin, when’s supper?” the oldest boy, Albert, asked you, tugging on the hem of his vest.

“Very soon,” you assured him. Honestly, you were wondering the same thing.

Albert frowned, and his siblings let out grumbles. To prevent something truly disastrous from happening, you took out three chocolate bonbons from your pocket. “Here you go,” you dropped the candies into their palms. Their eyes lit up, and they quickly stuffed the sweets into their mouths. You had been saving them for yourself, but this was a worthy sacrifice.

“I like your socks, Adrien,” you nodded at the ankles of the second-oldest boy. His blue socks clashed horribly with his suit, which meant that he probably threw a tantrum to keep them all. “Are those blue wavy things snakes?”

“Nope, this is the Hydro Dragon!” he wiggled his feet. “Auntie knitted them for me.”

“I see,” you said. He was referring to your mother, whose skill in needlework was renowned in town. Knitting was her specialty, and it was something you could never quite the hang of, despite many attempts. “You’re still interested in the Hydro Dragon?”

“Uh-huh. Could you show us your drawings again later? I really like the one with the giant fangs and horns.”

“Alright, but only if you promise not to rip them out of my sketchbook this time.”

“The Hydro Dragon’s a boring old crybaby. I’d much rather meet an Oceanid. They’re so much prettier, and they don’t make it rain every time they cry. It’s raining every day now and I hardly have the chance to play outside,” the youngest girl, Aimee, declared.

“It has been raining a lot lately,” you agreed, but thought of Neuvillette again. He evidently had power over rain, even if he wouldn’t admit it to you—why wouldn’t he stop it? “But don’t you think calling it a ‘boring old crybaby’ will hurt its feelings and make it cry even more?”

Aimee gasped upon hearing that and quickly looked up at the sky. There were clouds drifting across the moon. Would it rain tonight? One could never be quite sure these days.

Just as you ushered the children back in, the bell for supper rang. Finally!

The banquet hall was set up self-served buffet-style. The menu consisted of roast chicken, lamb ribs, salad, and Justine’s favorite desserts—ice jellies and cupcakes. The triple-layered cake was, of course, the centerpiece. You had to restrain the triplets from running over to it.

Best of all, there was champagne. You sorely needed a drink.

Aunt Cecile eventually returned, and as it turned out, you were sharing a table with her, the triplets, and one of Dominic’s friends whose name you didn’t know, for you hadn’t been introduced to him yet. He gave one look at the triplets and heaved an annoyed sigh and plopped down in his chair. Well, they can’t all be winners, you thought.

For the next hour of supper, you busied yourself with helping Aunt Cecile feed the triplets, pouring tea, and going around the tables asking after everyone. The supper was delicious, and the cake, as expected, was very popular and quickly finished. Luckily, you had saved two slices beforehand for Neuvillette and Marie.

Dominic’s friend didn’t say a word to any of you as he ate his food. You had heard him quietly scoff at the old but well-polished cutlery and china. His sour mood was so palpable that even the triplets, who had no shyness when it came to talking to strangers, visibly shrunk away from him. Honestly, why was he even here?

In any case, after supper, there was more dancing. Slower dances this time, which means that it was time for you to head for the bench. I wish I brought a book...well, Mother will kill me if she saw me with one, though.

You stretched your arms and fingers, feeling sleepy. Truthfully, you really wanted to crawl into bed now, but there were still a few more hours to go until the ball ended.

As you were doing so, a conversation between Dominic and your disagreeable tablemate caught your ear.

“Gabriel, you should dance more. This is a ball, after all. I’m sure your mood will be much lifted if you danced with someone here. Everyone here is so cheerful and agreeable. Haven’t your parents been nagging you to find someone lately?” Dominic was talking to his friend, whose name was apparently Gabriel. Considering their vastly different personalities, you wondered just how their friendship started.

“I highly doubt I would be able to find a suitable match among this crowd. I think it would be better for me to take my leave. Inform the hosts for me.”

“Come on, just one more dance. You've only danced with Miss Justine so far, so...” Uh oh, you thought as Dominic looked around, inching backwards toward the piano. Unfortunately, you were too slow—his eyes alighted upon you, and he broke into a smile. “Ah, Miss [Name], just the person I wanted to see. Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine.”

You reluctantly went over to them. Dominic’s friend’s frown deepened as he recognized you. “Miss [Name], this sullen man next to me is my cousin and friend Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Miss Justine’s sister,” Dominic said.

“A pleasure,” you said, curtsying and trying your best to sound genuine. You had to keep up appearances for your sister’s sake.

“Mine as well,” Gabriel said, bowing. He scrutinized you. “You don’t resemble your sister very much,” he commented with a barely concealed sneer.

“So I’ve heard,” you said, keeping the smile on your face and looking straight into his eyes. Such insinuations had long stopped bothering you, and if some uppity snob thought that he could hurt your feelings so easily, then he had another thing coming.

“Now then, I think it would be delightful if the two of you got to know each other through dancing. I’d wager that you get along quite well. After all, both of you love reading thick, lengthy books. What do you say, Miss [Name]?” You didn’t know if Dominic was too good-natured to hear the insult in his friend’s words, or if he was trying to breeze past it.

Gabriel stared at you. You could tell what he was thinking. He wanted you to decline. So he’s enough of a gentleman in that aspect, huh, you mused.

“I’d be delighted to dance. It does make for some good exercise after that wonderful meal,” you smiled at Dominic. Gabriel made a sound in his throat, but his feelings hardly mattered to you.

He led you to the dance floor, holding your hand between his fingers like he was holding a dirty rag. You would be more offended if you didn’t find it so amusing. Maybe you were a little lightheaded from the champagne. No wonder he’s having trouble finding a wife, if he can’t even perform the most basic of courtesies, you thought, holding back a smile.

Of course, considering how you were in a similar situation not too long ago (and technically, still in), perhaps you shouldn’t be quick to mock him. Still, I would like to think that my etiquette is far better than his.

The dance began. Much to your annoyance, he was quite a good dancer, though lacking passion. Neither of you said a word as you spun around to the music. It was supposed to be his responsibility to start the conversation anyway.

“...So, you like books?” he said after five minutes of complete silence.

“Yes,” you said simply. As far as you were concerned, he could do all the work here.

“What’s your favorite book? Let me guess, for a lady like you, it’d be some lowbrow romance like The Lochknight’s Passion, right?”

He wasn’t even pretending to be gentlemanly anymore. Once again, you wondered how someone as warm-hearted and friendly as Dominic became friends with someone like him, even if they were cousins. Honestly, you didn’t even like The Lochknight’s Passion all that much, but you suddenly felt a fervent need to defend it.

“I beg your pardon, but I don’t see what’s so lowbrow about The Lochknight’s Passion. It may not be the most profound piece of literature in the world, but its prose is beautiful, and the author has clearly done extensive research into the era.”

Gabriel snorted. “You don’t read a lot, do you? It might have some decent, crowd-pleasing lines here and there for a romance, but it is still nothing but saccharine nonsense.”

Your partner, taking your silence for abashment, continued. “Romance novels are a waste of paper and ink. They are nothing more than formulaic drivel penned to satisfy the masses’ base desires and lower the collective intellect. True literature challenges, reveals, and exposes. Romance novels do nothing but coddle. It appears that Fontaine is far behind Sumeru in this aspect.”

For someone who professed to despise romance novels so much, he sure did have a lot to say about them. You, of course, didn’t voice that thought.

“Sumeru?” you repeated.

“Indeed. As a Dastur of Haravatat--the school of semiotics and linguistics, if you don’t know--I have the good fortune of being exposed to so many truly sublime works of literature and being a part of an institution that actively promotes them to the populace. I pity Fontainians in that aspect.”

“So, what kind of books do you like?”

“Philosophical treatises, poetry collections, historical texts. I am rather fond of The Fall of the Faded Castle, I suppose.”

You frowned. The Fall of the Faded Castle was one of your favorite works as well, and you also enjoyed reading history books. But the last thing you wanted to do right now was to agree with him.

You and Gabriel eventually neared the doors. He was still talking. Well, more like monologuing. All you did was nod and say “uh-huh.” Archons, this dance felt like it was going on forever. If only Anne were here. She loves ridiculous things...

Peals of laughter caught your ear. It came in the direction of your sister, who was sitting on a couch and surrounded by her friends. She had her legs stretched in front of her as she admired her shoes again.

Gabriel had turned his head towards her as well. His eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Who gave those shoes to her? I know it wasn’t Dominic. Surely they aren’t from another gentleman caller?”

“They’re from a family friend,” you lied smoothly. It was technically the truth, anyways.

Gabriel gave you a probing look. You calmly looked back at him.

“If you say so. But, I would suggest that your sister make it clear in the future if she is entertaining more than one gentleman caller. It would be terrible if a misunderstanding were to occur. It’s so easy for frivolous, flighty girls like her to ruin their reputations.”

He didn’t sound as though he thought it would be terrible at all. Was he one of the relatives who opposed the potential engagement?

But more than that, he had insulted your sister. Okay, I don’t care about being polite anymore. He’s going down!

Just then, the doors opened slightly, and the doorman slipped through with a look of barely concealed alarm on his face. He briskly strode towards your parents, whispering something urgently to them. Identical expressions of shock appeared on their faces.

A few moments later, your parents headed your way with the doorman. “My sincerest apologies, Mr. Gabriel,” your father said. “But I’m afraid that I must ask you to relinquish my daughter for a few moments.”

Gabriel sniffed contemptuously, but obliged. You hastily curtsied to him, feeling a sense of foreboding in your chest.

As you went to the door with your father and the doorman, your mother joined up with you, Justine in tow. She also looked confused.

Once you were in the lobby, the doorman led your family to a small sitting room. “He’s waiting in here,” he informed you, then quickly took his leave.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

You should have known the moment you saw the doorman’s face.

“Neuvillette!” you blurted out without thinking. “What are you doing here?”

“Sweetheart, mind your tone,” your mother scolded, but it was automatic and half-hearted. She was also gaping at the tall figure standing by the mantelpiece, like the rest of your family.

He turned to face you. He was holding a package in his arms. When his gaze landed on you, his eyes seemed to widen slightly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

“Good evening, everyone,” he inclined his head. Your family, having gotten over their shock, hastily bowed and curtsied. “I do apologize for my unannounced late visit. I went to your residence first, but your housekeeper informed me of the change of plans, and it took me some time to find the assembly-hall. I am here to deliver a birthday present on behalf of a friend of mine to Miss Justine.”

He proceeded to take out a small vial with a bow tied around it and presented it to your sister. Justine didn’t look at it--she was still staring at his face, her expression a mixture of disbelief and elation. She was trembling slightly. You had almost forgotten about her huge, unbridled admiration for him. Where has that bravado from earlier gone?

“This is a handmade skin serum from my friend, Sigewinne,” he informed her when she didn’t say anything for a few moments. “She also wishes you a most joyous and wonderful birthday.”

Justine still didn’t react. Fearing that she was having an internal freakout, you nudged her gently. That seemed to shake her out of it. She held out her trembling hands and accepted the vial, which she clasped to her chest.

“Oh...oh, oh, thank you so very much, Monsieur Neuvillette! And to Miss Sigewinne as well! What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. I love skincare items,” she babbled quickly. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life. A-And, I do apologize for the abrupt change in plans. Had I known that you were coming, I would have never held this ball in the first place.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It is all due to my own capriciousness for coming here despite stating otherwise.”

“It’s no matter. We can adapt. First, we’ll announce your visit to everyone. They would all be delighted by your presence,” your mother clapped her hands cheerfully. No doubt, she was thinking of all the ways she could lord this over her friends for the next few years.

“I’m afraid that I will not be staying for long. I only meant to give Miss Justine the present and take my leave after.”

“You’re leaving already? But you just got here,” Justine exclaimed. “We would love to have you stay.”

“Neuvillette has had a busy day already, and I’m sure he’ll be very busy tomorrow. Besides, you know he doesn’t attend social functions like this very often,” you reminded her, even as your mind reeled. You couldn’t quite believe that Neuvillette travelled all the way here just to drop off a present.

There had to be something else going on. It was better to get it over with now rather than later. Waiting in dread was the worst feeling in the world.

Neuvillette, sensing your gaze, turned to you. You observed him carefully. You could sense something like reservation, an unspoken thought, dwelling in the depths of his eyes.

It was in that moment that you knew. He was here for you.

The thought gave rise to a strange, ticklish feeling in your chest.

You turned to your family. “Could you all please give us some privacy?”

Justine pouted, but your father was already leading her to the door. “Come now, dear, leave your sister and her husband alone.”

She begrudgingly followed him, but then ran back to you. “Ask him to stay! He’ll listen if you ask him to,” she whispered into your ear before getting dragged off by your parents.

As soon as the door closed, you quickly led Neuvillette to the corner furthest away from it. You knew your sister well enough to expect that she would be attempting to eavesdrop.

“So, what is it? Did something happen?” you peered up at him, trying to read his expression.

“What do you mean?” his brow furrowed.

“You came here personally to tell me something, didn’t you? It must be serious if it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“It is nothing of the sort. I genuinely did want to give your sister Sigewinne’s present.”

“You could have simply sent it by mail. Justine wouldn’t have cared if it was late. She’d treasure anything you give her.”

“I could not do that,” Neuvillette said in protest. “A birthday present should be given in person, especially if it is for someone as important as your sister.”

It was just like him to say something like that.

“But that isn’t the only reason why you came here, right? You want to tell me something, don’t you?” you looked him in the eye. “Come on, tell me. Or it will torment me all night until I return to the city tomorrow.”

“...I can never hide anything from you, can I?” he murmured after a pause, then cleared his throat. “I had a rather trivial question that I wished to ask you, but seeing as how there had been an abrupt change of plans this evening, I deemed that it would be more suitable to ask it at a later time.”

Neuvillette took another pause after saying that. He seemed to be trying to find the right words. You waited patiently.

When he spoke again, his question caught you completely off guard. “Were you...disappointed when I initially declined the invitation to your sister’s birthday celebration?”

“I beg your pardon?” You couldn’t quite understand his words at first.

He repeated the question, then added, “I apologize for involving you in my own personal quandaries. It has been bothering me for some time. I understand if you do not wish to answer my question.”

Quandary? This is a quandary for him? Just when you thought you understood Neuvillette a little, he did or say something that made you realize you didn’t really know him at all.

Still, he seemed as serious about this as he was about everything else. You had meet him on that level, at least.

You strained your mind, recalling that day in your bedroom. It felt like an eternity had passed since then, even though it was only a few days (you still weren’t sure if you should tell your family about the meeting with Furina. In all honesty, it wasn’t something you wanted to revisit).

“I suppose I was a little. I don’t really know why I even asked in the first place, and I should have checked your schedule beforehand. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed signals. Well, considering that the private tea party was changed last minute to a ball, I think it was for the best.”

The furrow between Neuvillette’s brows deepened. It appeared that he wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer. His violet eyes bore into yours, searching their depths. You suddenly had the feeling that you were on trial, being compelled to tell the truth.

“I...I also thought it would be nice to show you around my hometown,” you admitted in a smaller voice. “Since you showed me your favorite places, I thought I might show you mine.”

Neuvillette was silent for a few moments. A rush of embarrassment flooded your chest, and you looked down awkwardly at the carpet.

“I see, so that’s why.” Something in how he said those words made you look up. His head was turned away slightly, and his hand was lifted to his mouth. Without knowing why, your heart beat a little faster. He turned to look at you again. “Then it is truly a shame that I came too late. Perhaps another time, then?”

“Sure,” you nodded quickly, even as you wondered when--or if--that time would ever come. “Um, is that all?”

“No, there is something else I wish to ask you,” Neuvillette clasped his hands together, a grave look on his face. You braced yourself for yet another quandary.

“Do you enjoy tea?”

“What?”

“I am asking this because I was recently given two boxes of black tea from a friend of mine, but I do not know if it is the sort you like, or if you like tea at all.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?

“I like tea well enough,” you answered. It was a staple at your household, like most Fontainian families. You preferred drinking chocolate or Fonta far more, though you didn’t say that out loud. “I especially prefer it with sugar cubes and biscuits.”

“Sugar cubes and biscuits...” Neuvillette repeated, as though making a mental note to himself. “I shall ask Marie to buy those items at once.”

“I’m looking forward to trying the tea, then,” you said. “So, um, does that mean you’ll be returning now?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he nodded.

“But it’s such a late hour to be making that journey all the way home...”

“I can manage. Do not worry about me, Madame, and focus on enjoying your evening.”

Neuvillette probably commanded his own personal vessel, but it had rained recently and the winds over the sea could get cold. The round trip between here and the city took hours. If he had rushed here right after the trials were over, then did he even have the time to eat dinner?

All those thoughts flooded through your mind at that moment.

And besides...imagining him going home alone in the dark...seems so terribly lonely.

Ask him to stay, Justine’s whisper returned to you. You tried in vain to push it aside.

Neuvillette’s face was impassive. He was watching you expectantly, as though he was waiting for you to say something. Or as though he wanted you to say something. Maybe you were just projecting your own desires onto him.

But did that mean you wanted him to stay?

You weren’t sure. There were a hundred reasons why that would be a bad idea. A hundred different scenarios where things could go wrong. And yet, and yet...

A bag on the table caught your eye. You opened it and found that it contained two bottles of pure, refreshing water.

“Oh, did you bring that for us?” The bottles had no labels on them, but months of listening to his water lectures had familiarized you with his collection. “This is pure water distilled from mountain snow melt, right?”

“Yes, it is. I know it is not the most suitable beverage for a ball,” he said quickly. He seemed almost embarrassed. “I only chose it on the assumption that I will be attending a tea party. If I had known earlier, I would have chosen heated water from Natlan, or the rich waters of Fontaine’s waterfalls.”

“Pfft!” you smothered a laugh. He seemed so genuinely apologetic that it was clear that he had been fretting over this quite a bit. I really don’t understand what goes on in his mind at all, you thought, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. You suddenly had the urge to pat his head.

“Madame?” Neuvillette’s eyes widened. I know I don’t smile very often, but does he really have to react like that?

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, and cleared your throat. “Actually, Neuvillette, your water would be a great boon to us, even if it is unsuitable for a ball. The only beverages available are champagne and this homemade punch made by my mother’s friend that tastes like grass. There wasn’t even any Fonta.”

“How dreadful,” he remarked. You couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Neuvillette, do you have any plans for the rest of the night? Do you need to go to work early tomorrow?”

“I do not,” Neuvillette shook his head. He still seemed to be waiting. Or maybe he genuinely was oblivious as to what you were about to ask.

“I see, then...” you took in a breath, feeling strangely nervous even though this should be the most natural, obvious thing in the world. “Then you should attend the ball. My sister...no, everyone, including me, would love to have you there.”

Neuvillette was silent. Did he need more convincing? Should you be doing more convincing? He was probably confused by you asking this in the first place, knowing how secret your relationship must remain. There was nothing logical about this. It was the complete opposite of that.

But you once made a promise to be honest to yourself and live your life accordingly. You weren’t sure you were fulfilling that promise correctly, but you had a strange feeling that this was part of it.

The logical, rational, proper thing to do would be to agree with him and send him back to your house to rest for the night.

But I’m a little sick of always being logical, rational, and proper. And I think...Neuvillette might just feel the same way.

After all, he could have taken his leave right after you answered his questions.

“Neuvillette, first, I want you to know that you’re free to leave at any time. We’ll just say you have important Iudex business to attend to. Who can question that? You can go to my house, where our housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, will take good care of you. We have a detached guesthouse as well, so there’s no need to worry about privacy. No, wait, you should wait here so that you can ride our carriage home after the ball ends. But you are staying the night. There is no question about that. If you’re worried about people talking to the media about your presence here, then I wholeheartedly support you making everyone sign confidentiality agreements. But I do think you should dance at least once with my sister. She...admires you greatly, and it would make her whole year, maybe even decade, if she had the opportunity to dance with you. And, um, if you want, you can tell everyone about the water you brought. No one here has ever drank mountain snow melt water before. We get all our water from the wells. ” You were aware that you were rambling. That seemed to happen with an irregularly common frequency with Neuvillette. “Umm...oh, and it would be good for you to mingle with your people and all that. Lady Furina would approve, I’m sure. And--”

“Yes, I shall attend the ball,” Neuvillette uncharacteristically interrupted you. You could hear the mirth in his voice. “You’ve made some very convincing arguments, Madame, but you need only have said that you wanted me here. I am merely thankful that you don’t find my presence here distressing.”

“That would never happen,” you said, aghast, and found that you did mean it. Perhaps if it were anyone else, you would have been highly annoyed. But it was simply too difficult to be angry at Neuvillette. “Actually, I should thank you for showing up. I was in a foul mood not too long ago because of my dance partner. ...Oh, I’ll tell you about him later. And, um, I should apologize for...um, dancing with other men behind your back.”

“Why should you apologize for dancing at a ball? It is not your fault that the ball was already planned without your knowledge.”

“Yes, but still, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I removed my ring as well, after all,” you said, staring awkwardly at the painting frame behind him, even as you thought, See, Justine, this is how a mature man behaves!

“Then I shall do the same,” he said. You watched as he took off his right glove, revealing long, slender fingers, the silver ring glinting on his ring finger. For some reason, you felt you had to look away.

“I am worried that I’m not dressed appropriately for the occasion,” Neuvillette mused after he tucked his ring in his breast pocket and put his glove back on, looking down at his robes. More like he’s overdressed. But that reminded of you something.

Spying a vase of fresh flowers in the room, you headed toward it and took out a Rainbow Rose.

“Neuvillette, let me help you put this in your lapel’s buttonhole,” you gestured for him to bend down, which he did, and carefully threaded the flower’s stem through the buttonhole.

“Ah, yes, the dress code on the invitation. I had forgotten about that,” he murmured. His breath brushed against your ear, and you suppressed a shiver.

He straightened, and then his eyes flicked to your hair. “A Pluie Lotus,” he said. Lifting his arm, he reached out to brush his fingers against it. “You look beautiful tonight. I should apologize for not telling you that earlier.”

“I, I...” Archons, what were you supposed to say during times like this? “Thank you. You...you look beautiful too.”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette smiled softly, gazing down at you. His hand lingered on the back of your head. For a few moments, neither of you spoke as you stared at each other. The fireplace’s light cast dancing shadows on the planes of Neuvillette’s face. His lavender eyes and horns almost seemed to glow.

Perhaps you would have stayed like that for longer, if not for the rapid knocking on the door. The two of you blinked at the same time, his hand pulling away as though it was scalded. The spell--or whatever that was--broken.

“Now, let’s get back to my family, before my sister breaks down the door.”

When you and Neuvillette emerged from the sitting room, you found your family staring at you. Justine’s cheeks were puffing out, as though she was hiding a smile.

“What?” you frowned. Did they overhear everything?

Your family looked at each other. “Nothing,” they chorused.

In the end, it seemed that there was no need for anyone to sign confidentiality agreements or anything of the sort. For it appeared that most of the attendees had become terribly inebriated from a cask of wine that one of the guests brought with him in the time your family was absent from the ballroom. You doubted they would even remember whose ball they attended next morning.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), it seemed that Neuvillette’s surprising appearance had broken through the fog of alcohol somewhat. They stared at him as though a rare animal had trotted into the ballroom before peppering your parents with questions.

Neuvillette’s appearance at this humble countryside ball was given a simple explanation: your parents had sent him an invitation, and he accepted. That was all. It wasn’t as if there was any way to argue against it, because that was exactly what happened. They say that the best lies have the truth mixed in with them, after all.

The ball, which had been slowly winding down after supper, was reinvigorated. All the men were eager to introduce themselves to the Iudex, and all the women were desirous of having their own fairytale moment with him. The stampede to freshen up in the ladies’ room was a sight to behold.

The water that Neuvillette brought with him was very much appreciated, though you suspected that it was more because it was excellent for quenching thirst rather than its flavor profile. You also suspected everyone was simply too drunk to register his impromptu water commentary or too awed by his presence here in the first place to engage with it. But you couldn’t say anything when you saw Neuvillette look so elated at everyone coming up to him with cups and thanking him for his contribution.

There were a few guests who made snide comments, but a few “accidental” steps on the feet managed to silence them well enough.

Soon enough, everyone was clamoring for the dancing to resume. Of course, the first dance had to be with the belle of the ball.

Justine had foisted the role of photographer onto you. You stood at the edge of the room with the Kamera.

After spending an inordinate amount of time in the ladies’ room with her makeup bag and hairbrush, Justine looked more radiant than ever. She and Neuvillette standing across from each other under the chandelier was a sight that captured the eyes of everyone in the room.

The music began. The two spun around the dance floor, as smoothly as water. They seemed to flow with the notes of the violins and piano. Neuvillette was an excellent dancer, as one would expect. His elegant bearing and footwork, the way his coattails whipped around him as he turned (miraculously, he hadn’t stepped on them once), the chandelier light gilded his long hair, and the raptness of his expression, as though his partner was the only person in the room, were all complemented by the youthful, blushing beauty of your sister, made it difficult to look away from them. The room itself took on a mystical, hushed quality, as though this was a scene in a fairytale.

You told yourself to stop thinking and focus on finding the best angles and lighting.

There was a loud round of applause after the dance was over. The two bowed gracefully towards the audience. Justine looked as though she was about to faint on the spot.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Monsieur Neuvillette actually came here because he was attracted by Miss Justine’s beauty,” you heard one of your neighbors, Mrs. Girard, say to her friend nearby.

“Oh yes. Miss Justine is so lovely that I dare say she can capture the hearts of any man, even someone like Monsieur Neuvillette. Why shouldn’t she aim higher? Perhaps the baron will see one of his daughters married by the end of the year after all,” her friend commented. Luckily, Dominic wasn’t anywhere near them.

When they noticed you there, they didn’t apologize or even look embarrassed. Instead, they sidled closer.

“Miss [Name], what do you think? Miss Justine and Monsieur Neuvillette make a beautiful couple, don’t you think?” the woman in the pink dress said.

One thing about living in a small town where everyone knew each other was that most people had no reservations about talking about you right in front of your face.

“Oh...I don’t know...” you replied vaguely. “She’s still young... and they’re so different...”

“Certainly, I’m not saying that they should get married right away. But in a few years, who knows? I think a lively young lady like Miss Justine would be a good match for someone as serious and solemn as him. They do say opposites attract, after all.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” you said simply, wanting this conversation to be over.

“And it could be good for you as well, Miss [Name]! You would stand to benefit from the match and also find a suitable husband.”

“Mm,” you managed. I...did not expect this to happen.

“Wait, is he...coming over here!?” Mrs. Girard’s friend exclaimed, her hands flying up to her mouth.

You turned. Neuvillette was indeed walking in this direction. He was looking directly at you.

Panic inexplicably welled up within you. Maybe this is a mistake after all.

Neuvillette stopped a short distance before you. He extended his elbow. “Miss [Name], may I have this dance?”

You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. Your first instinct was to decline. We can’t do this in front of everyone!

But that was ridiculous. Like Neuvillette said, this was a ball and dancing was to be expected. All the more so in this situation, since you were the sister of the lady he just danced with.

But dancing with him in public...it feels like we’re bringing everything out in the open.

Your old teacher’s words came back to you once more, brushing against your ears like a breeze. Be honest with yourself.

You looked at Neuvillette’s outstretched elbow, then raised your head to look into his eyes. The rest of his face was as composed as ever--but his eyes seemed to shine brightly, full of anticipation and--dare you believe it?--hope.

Before you knew it, you had slipped your arm through his elbow. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Sister, let me hold the Kamera,” Justine came out of nowhere and took the device from you.

He led you to the center of the room. The two of you turned to face each other, so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his chest. Wow, he’s really tall, you thought dumbly, as though you didn’t live with him and saw him everyday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Justine chatting with the musicians. What was that girl up to?

“Madame, you seem stiff. Are you nervous?” Neuvillette murmured in a low voice that only you could hear.

“A little bit,” you admitted. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. “I don’t know why, though. I’ve danced with other men tonight and I never felt this way with them.”

“That is odd,” he tilted his head to the side, his silver locks swaying as he did so. “I do not know if this advice will help, but you should try your best to block out the crowd and focus only on me.”

The music began. You startled at the familiar first notes. This piece was commonly played at weddings for the bride and groom’s first dance!

You thought about going to the musicians to get them to change the music, but the thought flew away from your mind when you felt Neuvillette wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer until your chests were a millimeter’s length from touching. You could rest your head on his shoulder, if you so wished. His other hand took yours, holding it as though it was made of glass. Reflexively, you put your free hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not familiar with the steps for this dance. I-I might step on your feet,” you blurted.

Neuvillette’s eyes softened. “Do not worry, Madame. Simply follow my lead.”

Dancing had never been something you were interested in. You worked hard to learn the steps not out of any passion or even liking for dancing, but only because it was expected of you. You had never understood what it meant to be “carried along by the music.”

But dancing with Neuvillette was very different. You were suddenly aware of everything--the press of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his body, the way his hair shone in the light, his intent gaze upon your face. Following his lead felt like the most natural thing in the world, as though the two of you were one.

How could you care about the crowd when he was right in front of you?

Time seemed to stop. The background noise melted away. Until it felt like it was only the two of you in the room.

You found yourself wishing that this moment would continue for just a second longer.

But your hopes were inevitably betrayed. The music came to an end. There was some applause. You didn’t hear anyone comment that the two of you would make a good match or that you looked perfect together or anything of the sort.

You snuck a peek at Neuvillette, wanting to see his reaction. If that dance inspired any emotions in him, it didn’t show on his face.

But that doesn’t matter. Because that moment only belongs to me, no matter how brief it was.

The rest of your time at the ball was comparatively uneventful. For some reason, everyone wanted you to introduce them to Neuvillette. Much to your annoyance, you witnessed many too-flirtatious smiles, lingering handshakes, and thrusting of bosoms, but they didn’t seem to have any effect on Neuvillette. He was probably used to it. Still, they should remember who they’re dealing with here!

You also found yourself with the task of taking pictures as they danced. At some point, you considered charging.

“Sister, you should really stop glaring at all the woman he dances with,” Justine whispered to you at one point. “It’s getting obvious.”

“I’m not glaring. I’m just watching, like everyone else,” you protested.

“If you say so,” she grinned and flounced away.

Neuvillette didn’t have it as easy. When he wasn’t dancing, he was engaged in conversation. To his credit, he never turned anyone away and treated everyone with his customary politeness. You worried that he was exhausting himself, but he assured you that he was fine when you quietly asked him about it (under the guise of asking after guests, of course).

“At least have some cake. I saved a slice for you,” you urged him. Left to his own devices, he would most likely have nothing but water for his meals. With Marie away today, you doubted he ate anything that could be called dinner.

He stared dubiously at the slice of cake offered to him. Then, he picked at it with his fork and brought a bite to his mouth. “This is delicious,” he said, eyes brightening.

“Mrs. Bernard is a wizard when it comes to baking,” you said proudly.

“The moistness of the cake is just right,” he said after taking another bite. You stifled a laugh.

As he ate, three small figures slowly approached him. It was the triplets. When Neuvillette turned to them, Aimee and Adrien yelped and hid behind Albert.

To a child, someone as tall as Neuvillette would be scary, you thought as you watched him go very still.

“Hey, come on, introduce yourselves to Monsieur Neuvillette,” you encouraged them to come closer. They remained where they were, staring up at him with wide eyes. You had to step in.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, these are my cousins, Albert, Aimee, and Adrien.”

“Um...greetings, children, I am the Iudex. It is a great pleasure to meet you,” Neuvillette lifted his hand and left it hanging in the air. Belatedly, he bent down to match their heights. He doesn’t interact with actual human children much, does he? You’d think that with the Melusines, he’d have more experience.

“Can I have your cake?” Adrien said.

“You’ve already had three during supper. You know you’re not supposed to have too much sweets before bedtime,” you reminded him. “What would the Hydro Dragon think? You’ll make him cry again, and he’s done enough of that already, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re right...” the little boy said dejectedly.

Next to you, Neuvillette let out a small cough.

“Children, don’t bother Monsieur Neuvillette!” your aunt ran up to them and hurried them away amidst a chorus of protests.

“Remember to show us your Hydro Dragon sketches!” Adrien reminded you over his shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” you said to him after they left.

“It’s to be expected of children,” he replied. Then, after a beat, he asked, “Hydro Dragon sketches?”

“Oh, they’re talking about my old sketch books. I used to be really interested in dragons when I was little,” In fact, it was your amateurish sketches that led to your old teacher taking you on as a student.

“But not anymore?”

“No, I suppose I became more interested in drawing ancient ruins and knights at some point.”

“I see...” Neuvillette looked thoughtful. He turned to you. “May I--”

Before he could finish his sentence, more people came up to him. You sidled away to give him some space.

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher before turning his attention to the newcomers.

I wonder what he was going to say, you thought.

The ball came to an end at around eleven. The guests left in very good spirits. Their consensus was that Neuvillette was a most welcome addition to the celebration, if somewhat overly formal and distant. Some of the young ladies worried that they had offended him in some way because of his lack of conversation when they were dancing, but you assured him that it was no fault on their part and that Neuvillette was simply that kind of person (of course, you said this out of earshot from him).

After seeing the guests off and overseeing cleanup, it was finally time for your family to return home.

Since the carriage couldn’t fit everyone, it was decided that your aunt and her sleepy children would be sent on ahead, while the rest of you would walk. It was a short distance from the assembly-hall and your house.

Neuvillette had insisted on walking with the rest of your family, and so your odd little party leisurely strolled along the moonlit country paths, passing by vast meadows and shadowed houses.

As you half-listened to your family chatting about the ball, you found yourself turning your head to the side to gaze at the mountains in the distance. The moonlight lent their silhouettes a mysterious allure that wasn’t present during the daytime. In the darkness, the meadow looked like a silent and motionless sea. The scent of the air after a fresh scent made you want to lie down in the grass and close your eyes.

Even though you saw this view a thousand times in your lifetime, you felt strangely excited right now despite your general tiredness. It feels like something is about to happen.

“Madame, you’ve stopped walking,” you were interrupted from your reverie by Neuvillette, who joined you when you remained behind. “I would suggest that you stay in the group. It’s not safe to be walk alone in the dark.”

“I know,” you said, reminded of the incident. “I’m just admiring the view.”

Neuvillette followed your gaze. His eyes seemed to glow faintly even in the dark. “Ah, yes. It truly is a magnificent view,” he murmured, his voice sounding as though it was coming from far off in the distance.

“The mountains look even more spectacular during the day,” you told him as the two of you resumed walking. “If you decide to take another day off, you should consider spending it here.”

“I certainly will,” Neuvillette said. Then, there was a pause, before he added, “I do not mean to pry or ruin your good mood, but I couldn’t help but notice from talking to your parents that you haven’t told them about the assault you suffered previously.”

“Yes...I haven’t found the right time to break it to them yet,” you admitted, looking down at your feet.

“Why not now?”

“Now?” You looked ahead, where your family was in lively conversation with each other. “I don’t know... maybe tomorrow will be better?”

“I do not see what difference it will make when you tell them. In my experience, it causes greater distress when you delay such things. Do not worry, Madame. I shall help you with the explanation, should you wish for it.”

“Yeah...you’re right. I should do it now.” You smiled at him. He stared at you for a moment, then turned his head forward. You felt something warm brush against the back of your hand and felt braver.

You sped up a little to catch up with your family. “Um, excuse me, everyone. But I have something important to tell you.”

Justine immediately turned around with a gasp, a wide smile on her face. “Wait, don’t tell me!” she exclaimed.

You gave her an odd look before recounting what happened to you on that night. Neuvillette occasionally supplemented your account, mainly on the judicial side of things, and assured your family that the culprit shall be on trial in the coming months or so.

By the time you finished talking, your family had stopped walking and were staring at you in stunned silence. It was to be expected, considering what they just heard.

Justine was the first to speak. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant!” she cried.

“What!?” you shouted. You could feel Neuvillette stiffen next to you.

For the next ten minutes or so, you endured a terrible scolding from your parents and your sister’s wails and persistent questions about the details (she had been getting into crime novels recently). Neuvillette, bless his heart, tried to come to your rescue, but apparently even the Iudex of Fontaine was no match for your mother when she was furious.

After it finally ended, your parents thanked him profusely. “Oh, thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for saving our foolish daughter who I thought knew better than to stay out on the streets after dark!” your mother clung to his hand. “I must apologize for her again.”

“The only one who needs to apologize is the culprit,” Neuvillette told her as he gently loosened her grip. “I promise to do everything in my power to ensure he faces justice for his deeds.”

“That Moreau is lucky that I can’t get my hands on him right now!” your father waved his spindly arm.

“You will tell us the trial date, right?” Justine asked Neuvillette.

“You will be the first to know,” he told her.

Knowing that the incident was resolved for the time being and that all the crucial matters were in the best hands, your family breathed a sigh of relief.

The lights of your house appeared in the distance. You were almost home when your father suddenly stopped in front of the gate and turned to look at Neuvillette with a serious air about him.

“Monsieur Neuvillette. I want to apologize as well. To be quite honest, me and my wife were quite suspicious of you for a long time ever since you visited us all those months ago. Did you know that we thought at first that you were playing some sort of cruel joke on our daughter?”

He chuckled after saying that, even though you didn’t think it was something to laugh about.

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” your mother joined in. “You probably already know this, sir, but there are all sorts of horrors that a young lady without fortune or connections can encounter in this world. We know, of course, that you’re a righteous and principled man, but we don’t actually know you. I hope you understand what I mean.”

“And yet you still gave me away?” you pointed out.

“Well, it is Monsieur Neuvillette, after all. And you were going to be a governess! Can you believe that? A governess of all things? Being a spinster is far more preferable to such a miserable profession,” your mother directed that last part to Neuvillette. He did not look at you, thankfully. “She lost heart after some earlier disappointments, but that doesn’t mean--”

“Mother!” you snapped. “There’s no need to recount ancient history.”

Your mother looked like she wanted to argue, but your father patted her on the shoulder.

“To put it briefly, we didn’t know what to make of things until you sent us that wonderful letter. And then our daughter asked for our family sunflower seeds, and that put us at ease somewhat. Now that we saw for ourselves how much you treasure our daughter, we can finally be truly relieved. Thank you, sir. We are truly fortunate to have someone like you as a member of our family now.”

Letter? What letter? Neuvillette never told you about this.

“There is no need to thank me. I am only performing my duty as her husband. I’m also fortunate that I was able to meet all of you through her,” he said. “I do hope we can continue this acquaintance for a long time.”

“Of course!” They said in unison. Now it was your parents’ turn to look flustered. Oh no, they’re completely under his spell...

“My sister might seem cold and blunt on the outside, but she really does have a delicate heart,” Justine stepped forward, looking uncharacteristically serious. “If you hurt her in any way, I’ll never forgive you.”

Neuvillette looked around at your family, then his eyes landed on you. You half-expected him to start walking away. You certainly wanted to.

I’ve been living in a fantasy all this time...

Neuvillette bent down so that he was looking at Justine at eye level. “As I have promised before, I shall spare no effort to make your sister happy and to care for her.”

“And you must never cheat on her or take any mistresses,” Justine reminded him.

“Justine!” you shouted, feeling your cheeks warm.

“But of course. I have no interest in any other women except for her.” Neuvillette promised her solemnly.

He probably said something so extreme because of the pressure, you rationalized quickly.

Justine let out an embarrassed little giggle when he said that. Your parents laughed as well.

“Invite us to tea some time soon, okay?” they said to you. You forced a smile and nodded. Your chest felt heavy. I just want to fall into bed and sleep...

“Ahem, anyways, let’s get the sleeping arrangements sorted out,” you said a little too loudly, before marching up the steps to your house. You suddenly didn’t want to look at Neuvillette. At least he would be staying in the guesthouse and leaving early in the morning. A little time apart was what you needed right now.

However, you soon found your hopes dashed. Three things happened at once:

Your aunt and cousins were already staying in your room. “The guesthouse is, of course, the only suitable place for someone of Monsieur Neuvillette’s stature to stay,” Mrs. Bernard said.

Your sister was inviting some of her friends over for a sleepover, so you couldn’t stay in her room either. “Sorry about that, it was a bit of a last minute decision,” Justine gave you a wink.

Therefore, it was decided (against your fervent protests) that you would be sharing the same bed as Monsieur Neuvillette for the night. “It’s only one night, dear,” your mother told you. “Sharing the same bed as your husband is not exactly the worst predicament in the world.”

Oh, it is. It most certainly is.

And that was how you ended in the small guesthouse with Neuvillette.

“Madame...Madame!” Neuvillette’s voice came to you from far away. You snapped your head up and found yourself on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s worried gaze. It was then that you realized that you were breathing heavily through your nostrils.

“Pardon me. I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat it?” you gritted through your teeth, trying to fight the rising urge to run out of the guesthouse and scream into the darkness. You honestly needed to have a talk with your parents for indulging Justine far too much sometimes, and talk to Justine for her propensity of toying with people just for her own amusement.

Neuvillette stared at you for a long moment. He looked disturbed, like he was witnessing something terrifying But right now, you were too angry and frustrated to smooth your face into its usual composed expression.

“My apologies, Madame. It seems I made the wrong choice. I shall thank your parents for their kindness, and then take my leave.”

“No!” you exclaimed with more force than you intended and tugged on his cuff. “This isn’t your fault. It’s my family’s. This is just something we’ll have to put up with. We’re mature, responsible adults. Nothing except sleeping will happen in this room tonight.”

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

“Neither did I. After all, we are mature, responsible adults who would never even think of doing anything inappropriate.”

“...Yes, of course,” There was a pause before he spoke. Something in his eyes flickered. It was almost like guilt. That’s weird, you thought, but moved on.

“If we make a big fuss over this, we would only be providing amusement for my family. Therefore, we will act like normal.”

“We will,” he nodded.

“Good. I am saying all of this out loud so that we are both on the same page.” It felt a little ridiculous telling Neuvillette of all people how to behave, but really, this was more for the sake of calming your nerves than anything else.

The bed was neatly made and the pillows were fluffed. Two changes of clothes for you and Neuvillette laid upon it. You recognized the lace of your nightgown, and the other one must be your grandfather’s old clothes--they were the only ones that would fit a man of Neuvillette’s stature. The linen closet held towels and bathrobes. The toiletries were neatly lined up on the bathroom sink.

“So...I’ll let you use the bathroom first,” you said.

“No, Madame, I insist that you shall bathe first.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had a feeling this back-and-forth would go on for a long time if you let it.

You grabbed a towel and bathrobe, then turned around to get your nightgown when you froze.

Neuvillette was sitting on the chair next to the bed, unbuttoning his spats. He had already taken off his gloves and placed them on the bedside table. His long, pale fingers nimbly undid each of the small buttons, one by one. You watched him for a moment, transfixed.

He looked up from his work. “Is something the matter, Madame?” he asked.

“No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly as you realized you had been staring. “I won’t take long.”

With that, you went to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind you. You leaned against the door, sighing. You didn’t need to look into the mirror to see how flustered you looked.

You washed the makeup off your face, scrubbing it much harder than necessary, then undid the pins in your hair. You then proceeded to undo the lacing on the back of your dress when you ran into a major problem--it was nearly impossible for you to do it on your own.

You frowned at yourself in the mirror. This dress was one of the new clothes you bought in the Court. Justine had helped you lace it up before the ball, but with your current sleeping arrangements...

You looked at the door, then back at yourself in the mirror. You briefly considered using scissors, but decided against it. It was too drastic an action, and you did like this dress.

There was no other choice.

Taking deep breaths, you slowly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Neuvillette had taken off his spats and his shoes by now. He had also removed his robe and undid his cravat. You chose not to look at the sharp lines of his clavicle peeking out from behind his collar.

“Um...Neuvillette,” you took a breath before continuing, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly. Better to get it all out at once. “Could you help me undo the laces on my dress?”

“Certainly,” he said. You turned your back to him and tried to think about something else, anything else as he set to work. You could tell that he was being carefully, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible as he pulled the laces through the eyelet holes. But from time to time, the pads of his fingers or his knuckles would brush against your back, sending mini electric currents down your spine. His breaths ruffled the top of your head. Even with your back facing him, you could feel his steady concentration on you. Were there that many laces on your dress? It felt like it was taking an eternity compared to when Justine did them for you.

Or maybe...he’s taking his time on purpose? A small voice whispered, but you swiftly batted it away. Preposterous.

“There, it’s done, Madame,” Neuvillette said. His voice sounded lower than before. You clenched the folds of your skirt and reminded yourself of your own words earlier.

“Thank you,” you said, not daring to look at his face. It was only until you retreated into the bathroom that you realized that your shoulders had been tensed up the whole time.

Alright, I admit it--I’m attracted to Neuvillette. So what? Half of Fontaine is! Your heart annoyingly clenched when your mind flashed back to the amorous looks and flirtatious gazes directed at Neuvillette tonight. So what if I’m affected by his touch more than I should or that hearing his voice next to my ear make my knees go weak sometimes? None of that should change how I behave around him.

Your emotions had been all over the place tonight. It was more than you could bear. If your monthly cycle hadn’t ended merely a week ago, you would have thought this was all brought on by hormones. You had never felt like this before--not even in the deepest throes of puberty. The mass of emotions swirling within you seemed likely to explode out of your body at any minute.

A thought struck you. What if Neuvillette read your emotions? You didn’t know how he did it or what kind of information he could glean from them, but you were sure it would only lead to humiliation on your part. That is exactly why I need to get a handle on them, so that I won’t make him uncomfortable.

You ran the bath, then filled it to the brim with bubbles, and got in. The bubbles soaking into your skin managed to calm you down somewhat, enough that you could attempt to look at the situation rationally the way your old teacher taught you, laying out the facts like how you’d lay out your painting tools.

You were to sleep in the same bed with him. There was no getting around that fact. There were no other beds in the guesthouse, and you most certainly couldn’t ask Neuvillette to sleep on the floor. You yourself weren’t too enthused about sleeping on the floor either. So, the bed was where you would both sleep for the night.

Now, what was the problem there?

The bed was a queen size. It was roomy enough for two people to sleep comfortably without ever touching each other as long as they remained where they were. That was easy enough for you--you usually slept like a log. You couldn’t imagine Neuvillette being the type to toss and turn either. If he needed space, then you should be fine sleeping at the very edge of the bed.

Then, there was the elephant in the room: sharing a bed with Neuvillette. Like all young noble ladies, you were taught that you should never let a man into your bed if he didn’t intend to marry you right after. Of course, you doubt any etiquette manual in the world could tell you what to do if you were forced to spend the night in the same bed with your in-name-only husband. But really, when you think about it, wasn’t this pretty much the same as having a sleepover with a friend? You’ve slept over at Anne’s house plenty of times as a child, and vice-versa. Wasn’t this the same? Except for the fact that he was a man and the Chief Justice and someone you were probably a little attracted to...but those were irrelevant details.

Besides, there’s nothing between us. I admit, I enjoy looking at him, but that’s really as far as it goes. And I know for a fact that he has no such interest in me either. So, really, it’s just two friends sharing the same bed, just like me and Anne back in the day.

There was nothing inherently awkward about sleeping in the same bed together. If you thought of it as sleeping with a stuffed animal or something like that, then you could bear with it. It’s just one night.

Your teacher had always told you that perspective was everything. Reality is simply what we make of it. ...Though I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind.

You wondered what she’d think of this mess you had gotten yourself into. She’d probably find it funny.

Feeling sufficiently clear-headed and cheered, you finished with your bath and spent a few minutes cleaning everything up, then changed into your nightgown and bathrobe. After mentally bracing yourself in the mirror, you flung the door open. Maybe with a bit too much force, because Neuvillette’s head shot up from where he was sitting in the armchair.

“Neuvillette, the bath’s all yours. If you need any help with working it, just let me know,” you informed him airily. When he didn’t respond right away, you prompted him. “Neuvillette?”

“...Hmm? Ah, thank you, Madame, I shall not be long,” Neuvillette shook his head, as though clearing it, and quickly strode into the bathroom with his change of clothes. You noticed that he didn’t look at you as he passed by. What a gentleman.

Right after he closed the door, you slipped into bed. As you thought, there was plenty of room for both you and him to sleep comfortably while maintaining a respectful distance from each other. Now all you had to do was work on falling asleep. You considered going to the kitchen and getting a warm glass of milk, but decided against it. Maybe I’ll just count sheep.

However, your efforts were continuously waylaid by the music from the ball looping around in your head. It remained stuck in your head even when you changed tactics to count the number of spots in the ceiling. Come on, concentrate, I want to fall asleep before Neuv--

The bathroom door opened just then, and all hopes of falling asleep flew out of your mind.

Your grandfather’s old clothes fit Neuvillette remarkably well. Yet, for some strange inexplicable reason, he had opted to unbutton the top few buttons, exposing a sliver of pale chest. Don’t look don’t look don’t look! You chanted inside your head, yet your eyes had other ideas.

You had never noticed it before, but the layers he usually wore concealed his lithe, willowy build. He seemed almost delicate and ethereal, like a breeze could blow him away. You now understood why he put up with such an impractical outfit most of the time.

He looked different with his hair unbound as well. The long silver waves streamed down his back like a waterfall, lending him a wild, untamed impression. He looked less like a Chief Justice and more like a cover model for one of those cheesy paperback romances, except for the fact he wasn’t shirtless. It was incredible what a simple change in hairstyle could do.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. You lamented inside your head. You were very tempted to run back inside your house and squeeze into Justine’s bed. You’d even put up with the triplets kicking you in the face during the night. But you knew you couldn’t do that. I am a mature, sensible woman with principles, you told yourself firmly. I will simply...not look at him for the rest of the night.

You turned your back towards him as he walked to the other side of the bed, trying to calm your breathing. However, when you didn’t sense him getting into bed, you dared to slowly turn around to see what was going on.

He was sitting in the armchair. his hands clasped in his lap. When he saw you looking at him, he quickly turned his gaze to the floor. That’s a little excessive, isn’t it? This isn’t the first time he saw me lying in bed.

“Neuvillette, why aren’t you getting in bed? Did you wash your hair?”

“I have not.” His answer was curt.

“Then you should come to bed. Look, there’s plenty of room for you,” you lifted the corner of the comforter and patted the bedspread next to you. He eyed it warily, as though you had laid a trap there.

“I think...it would be more appropriate if I were to join you after you fall asleep, Madame. It would be more comfortable for you as well, I’m sure. Do feel free to turn off the lights.” Neuvillette sounded strange. You didn’t think you had ever heard him like this before.

“But, doesn’t that mean you’ll be watching me sleep?” you pointed out. From the look on his face, you could tell that he hadn’t thought of that. “And you have to leave early tomorrow, right? You should get plenty of rest.”

“I am used to staying awake at late hours.”

Now that made you frown. “I won’t be able to sleep well if you don’t sleep,” you told him. “I’m also used to staying up late, so I don’t mind. I can just sleep on the boat ride back tomorrow.”

There was a long silence before he slowly got up and approached the bed. He gingerly laid down and turned his back to you. Even from here, you could see his tensed shoulder muscles. Which were quite broad.

Lady Furina said he never had relationships before...does that also include strictly physical ones?

Now that was something you should not think while sleeping in the same bed as him. But still, you felt a little less nervous now that you suspected that both of you were in the same boat.

You studied his horns. Was it uncomfortable for him to sleep on his back? Did he have a special pillow in his room? When you touched his horns before, they were solid but flexible, not like the horns of a goat or a bull. Did it hurt if he put too much pressure on them? He did say they were sensitive.

“Neuvillette, I’m going to turn off the lights now,” you whispered without knowing why.

You heard a “Mmm” and turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The only light now came from the moon shining through the window above the bed.

The darkness did nothing to make you sleepy. You sensed that the same went for Neuvillette. You heard the shifting of the comforter next to you. He must be sleeping on his back now; with your eyes now adjusted to the dark, you could see the contours of his nose.

For a while, both of you remained that way, staring up the darkened ceiling. The image of fish in a can of sardines popped into your mind, and you let out a stifled laugh. It sounded too loud in the silent room.

“Madame?” you heard him whisper.

“It’s nothing.” Then after some thought, you asked, “Is everything comfortable? Do you need anything, like another pillow?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine.”

“How about the clothes? Are they fitting all right?”

“Yes.”

“Um...are you hungry? I can fetch something from the kitchen for you.”

“No, I’ve already ate. Your housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, was kind enough to serve me a light meal when I called upon your house.”

“I see... I’m glad to hear that.” Something about that bugged you, but you let it slide for now.

“So, did you enjoy the ball? I know you don’t care for them, but I hope you had a good time at this one, at least.”

“I have. Out of all the balls I’ve attended recently, I believe I enjoyed myself the most at this one.”

“How many balls have you attended recently?”

“Three, including this one.”

“Wait, you attended two other balls this year? Why didn’t you--” your voice trailed off.

“I’ve attended one last year, and the other in the year before that.”

“Oh...I see.” You didn’t know why you felt so relieved. “I think...it’s good to attend a ball at least once a year. It’s nice to mingle with people in that sort of atmosphere.”

“Mm, I agree.”

“And it’s fun to dance sometimes. You did a lot of it today, though.”

“Yes. But some fatigue is worth it if it is to please others.”

“Haha, you’re such a kind person...” you laughed weakly. “So, was there anyone who you especially enjoyed dancing with?”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, you saw him turn his head to look at you. “What do you mean?”

What did you mean? You didn’t know why you were talking about this at all. But the darkness was a comforting shield that surrounded your heart. “I mean, if there was anyone who, you know, caught your eye. Balls are the most common places for people to fall in love, after all. I know you said all of those things to my family to put them at ease, but if you do develop an interest in someone, then--”

You stopped talking when he moved himself closer. The moonlight illuminated the strands of hair near his face. His eyes glinted faintly. His face was inches away from yours.

“If you doubt my faithfulness to you, Madame, then I shall assure you, no matter how many times you need to hear it from me, that I will never take any lovers or mistresses as long as we are married.”

“I wasn’t going to say that...” you briefly turned your head to look at him, then immediately faced the ceiling again. Nope, still can’t do it. “I was going to say that if you were to fall in love, then you should tell me so that I can move out of your house as soon as possible. I have no intention of being a part of any drama of that sort.”

For a moment, there was silence. “I shall be sure to do so,” he said. Was that a smile in his voice? You couldn’t tell, as the thought of looking at him right now made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

What about you? What will you do if I fell in love with someone else and wanted to be with them? The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t summon the courage to voice it. Why had you brought this up in the first place?

“Speaking of my parents,” you quickly changed the subject. Dwelling on this topic made your skin itch. “What was that about a letter you sent them?”

“Ah, that. A few weeks after we wedded, I received a letter expressing their concerns about my intentions with you and wrote them a reply to reassure them. I’ve also invited them to my office, where we had a long and fruitful talk. I think it set much of their worries at ease.”

“I didn’t know about that. Why didn’t you ask me to join? I think that would have helped as well.”

“That was because...you were not talking to me during that time. Also, your parents asked me not to tell you about the meeting.”

“But you still should have told me regardless. It’s important.”

“I’m aware. I apologize. I have made many such mistakes in the course of our relationship.” He sounded genuinely disheartened.

“At least you’ve told me now,” you said consolingly. “I hope there aren’t any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”

You meant it teasingly, but the sharp intake of breath told you otherwise. “Neuvillette?”

“I…I must confess a most appalling deed I’ve committed against you,” You could not see his expression in the dark, but you imagined that furrow between his brows was quite deep right now.

“W-What is it?” His tone put you on edge. You began to wonder if you should escape from the room for a different reason.

“I…” he faltered, before rallying once more. “When I carried you back to your room that night—when you fell asleep in my study—I kissed your forehead while you slept.”

You thought you misheard at first. Neuvillette kissed your forehead? While you slept? You searched through your memories, trying to remember that night. You vaguely recalled being carried back to your room, but nothing after that.

“You did nothing else?” you felt strangely calm despite the revelation.

“No,” he said almost immediately. “I swear to you, upon my role as the Iudex, that I shall never overstep your personal boundaries.”

“But you kissed me on the forehead while I was sleeping,” you pointed out.

“Yes, I did,” he murmured. “I understand if you wish to cast me out of your house.”

You were silent for a moment, mostly because you wanted to make him nervous. He was watching you closely.

You turned to face the ceiling again. “I won’t do that. It will only bring scandal if I made the Chief Justice sleep outside in the damp grass. But what I do want to know is…why?”

“Why?” Neuvillette repeated.

“Why did you do it? Was there something about my forehead that made you want to kiss it?”

He didn’t respond right away; he truly seemed to be thinking about your question. “I do not know why I did it,” he said at last. “My apologies. I do not have a satisfactory answer for you. Not that there can be a suitable explanation for my actions.”

“Hmm,” you turned to look at him again. “You know, my mother used to kiss me and my sister on the forehead when she tucked us into bed as children. Maybe…it’s something like that?”

It was nonsense and both of you knew it. Even you weren’t sure why you said it. To lend him a lifeline? To provide an easy-to-accept explanation for this…act before you could think too deeply about it?

“…Perhaps,” Neuvillette said. You couldn’t tell if he truly believed it or not.

Honestly, I could see him kissing the Melusines’ foreheads to tuck them into bed if he lived with them.

The logical, rational part of you knew that you should be angrier at the violation of your boundaries. You should be scared. You should be not be wanting to remember the press of his lips against your forehead. You shouldn’t be thinking about his lips at all.

Neuvillette, why is it that my emotions always seem to not function properly when I’m with you? Can you teach me how to be as composed and in control of myself as you?

“Neuvillette, this doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you informed him in an attempt to gain back a smidgen of rationality, leaning closer. You had to admit, after being so flustered by him for most of the night, it was kind of fun having the upper hand. “You agree that, as the victim in this case, that I get to decide your punishment?”

Neuvillette nodded, a lock of hair falling across his face. His eyes remained on you, as if transfixed. He was hanging onto your every word.

In later days, you would blame the enveloping darkness, the gentle whisper of the rain that started before you knew it, and the champagne-caused headiness for what you were about to say.

“I’ll do the same thing to you. At some point, during the night—I won’t tell you when—I’ll go to your room and kiss you on your forehead.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to swallow them. Oh no, what if he takes this as flirting? Is this flirting? Does it count as flirting if there was no intent of flirtation? I better clear this up.

“I, I mean it in a strictly platonic way,” you hurriedly added. Good job on maintaining that stern aura, me.

Neuvillette’s gaze rove over your face before it briefly landed on your lips, lingering on your lips for a heartbeat, or maybe two. Then, he raised his eyes to meet yours. Something he saw there made him narrow his eyes.

He leaned closer until all you could see were his pupils.

“I shall await your visit, then, Madame.”

Early next morning, a certain letter from a certain Hydro Archon informed Neuvillette that she had kindly taken the initiative of clearing his schedule for the day to “give all the time that my dear Iudex needs to spend with his wife. No need to thank me!”

As for what happened after that, that would be a story for another time.

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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 days ago

Text

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 12/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Twelve: Dent

Two weeks before the end of summer vacation, Martha went to the airport to pick Bruce up. Martha almost didn’t recognize him because he’d grown so much. Bruce was so excited to see her that he dropped his suitcase and ran to her at full speed. “Mom!” Bruce exclaimed. He lifted her off the ground and spun her around. He started crying as he held her. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, lovey, I missed you too,” Martha replied as he set her down. She was a little taken aback at how emotional Bruce was. He didn’t expect to react that way when he saw her, but being apart from his mother always made him emotional. “Bruce, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Bruce wiped his face as he pulled himself together. “Can we get something to eat? I didn’t eat on the plane,” Bruce whispered. Martha nodded and held his face in her hands before heading to the car. Bruce fell asleep right after he buckled in, and Martha moved his hair out of his face.

She didn’t wake him until they got to the drive-thru. “Lovey… Lovey, what flavor of milkshake do you want with your burger?” Martha whispered.

“Vanilla,” Bruce mumbled. Martha nudged him.

“Brucie, wake up… You’ve got to eat something,” Martha whispered. Bruce nodded and pushed his hair back as he opened his eyes.

“I didn’t have time to really get a haircut while I was there,” Bruce explained, “So, you can tell me what you really think about it.”

“Huh? Oh, Brucie, you look fine,” Martha replied with a higher pitch.

“I’m gonna cut it, Mom,” Bruce replied.

“How short?” Martha asked.

“As short as you want it,” Bruce replied.

“I never said I didn’t like it at this length… What are you going to do to your hair?” Martha questioned.

“Maybe something short and spiky,” Bruce answered. Martha ordered and pulled up to the window. “You know… How some of the guys are wearing it.”

Martha smiled at him. “Please don’t do that. I like the long hair on you. It’s shoulder length, and it’s pretty. It makes you look like a poet or a rockstar. No harm in being a little pretty. It is the nineties after all,” Martha replied as she pinched his cheek. “Harvey’s got the Leo. So, I think it’ll be nice seeing the two of you stand next to each other in your sophomore-year uniforms… I wanted to get a haircut like that cute brunette in the movie that came out last year. You know, that pretty girl that you and Harvey like?”

Bruce shrank down in his seat. “Mommm,” Bruce whined as he hid his face. Martha chuckled.

Bruce and Harvey holed up in Bruce’s room after dinner to catch up. “I went home a few weeks ago to see my dad. He said he almost didn’t recognize me. He said he—.”

“Harvey, please don’t go. Don’t leave. You can’t trust him,” Bruce whispered. Harvey stood by Bruce’s bed instead of sitting down. Bruce had seen it before. Harvey loved his father, and he’d gone home before. Things were always good. Mr. Dent would shower Harvey with affection, promise him that things would be different, and then Harvey would return in tears, covered in bruises, and tell Bruce he’d never return. Bruce’s parents knew that Harvey was abused, but they didn’t know the nature of the abuse. Only Bruce knew about the beatings, otherwise, Harvey would never have gotten to go home.

“He said he was proud of me, Bruce… And he—. He said he was sober. He hadn’t had a drink in—.”

“Harv, what do you want me to say?” Bruce whispered with tears in his eyes.

Harvey rubbed his forearm. “It’s not normal for us to be so close. Regular best friends don’t sleep in bed together like that. Not guys—.”

“Who said that? Because I bet you they don’t know you like I do. I bet they weren’t there when you were waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I bet they weren’t sneaking down the dumbwaiter at two o’clock in the morning helping you wash your sheets because you were too scared to make noise on the way to the bathroom. Was it weird when I used to stay up crying with you because you were hurting all night?” Bruce whispered.

Harvey turned away from Bruce. “He’s my dad. Not every father is as perfect as Mr. Wayne or Alfred. Bruce, I want you to try to be supportive. Why would you make me stay?” Harvey asked.

Bruce’s answer caught in his throat. It was like the question made him realize something about himself, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “When are you going home?” Bruce asked instead of saying what he wanted to say.

“Tomorrow,” Harvey whispered.

“Okay… You can come back whenever you want, you know? I won’t say anything. I won’t ask questions… And I’m gonna miss you waking me up at the last second every morning,” Bruce replied, “I guess you’ll be sleeping in your room tonight…”

“I could be weird for one more night, I guess,” Harvey mumbled as he kicked at the air. Bruce smiled faintly as he wiped a few tears away.

On the first day of school, Bruce met Harvey in their usual spot, and a girl pulled him to the side. She ran her hand down his arm. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Annalise Talbot,” she smiled.

“We have met. Bruce Wayne,” Bruce answered as he removed her hand from his arm. “You probably remember me as the vampire freak from eighth grade… If you’ll excuse me…” Bruce looked around for Harvey, and his jaw tightened.

He waited a few minutes before heading to one of the payphones in the hallway. He dialed Harvey’s home phone number and took a shaky breath. Harvey answered on the first ring. “Bruce, I—.”

“How bad?” Bruce asked.

“Bruce, he’s sleeping right now… I don’t—. I just—.”

“Harvey, I’m gonna call a cab and come get you. Wait for me outside,” Bruce whispered.

“Bruce, wait. I—.”

“No buts, Harv. I’ll be there fast,” Bruce replied as he hung up. He called a cab and told them where to meet him. Bruce got picked up in front of the school and went straight to the Dent house. Harvey sat outside on the stoop in his school uniform, but his face was all busted up, and he was bleeding from his browline down the side of his face. Bruce quietly passed him and opened the door.

“Bruce, don’t—.”

“Mr. Dent! Mr. Dent!” Bruce shouted before kicking his chair.

Harvey’s father sat up and frowned at Bruce before calling him a name. “You’re that boy that’s been corrupting my kid—.” Bruce slapped the bottle out of his hand and it shattered on the floor. “I see I’m gonna have to teach you some manners.” Bruce smiled with his tongue in his cheek.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Bruce chuckled as he locked Harvey out.

“Bruce, please!” Harvey shouted as he knocked on the door.

“I’m just getting acquainted with your father,” Bruce reassured him. Bruce watched as Mr. Dent staggered out of the chair. And it was over before it even started.

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anon-e-miss · 3 days ago

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Storm's End - 4

“Seems like everyone on Damaxus comes here to fuel,” Jazz told Prowl.

They had split up, each taxed with scouting a different corner of the island for a spot that might serve as a base of operations. Jazz had looked around the coastline near the inn. He had found the smuggler’s cave Lockdown had once sailed his ship, the Death’s Head into, destroyed. No one had mentioned an earthquake or maybe Lockdown had done it himself. It would have been poetic to take over one of his roosts but that was fine. Ori and Rico were not back yet and so when Jazz had spotted the innkeepers’ pretty creation carrying a crate, he could not resisting walking over. Prowl was just as pretty in his neat and conservative armour as he had been nude. The Praxian was perfectly elegant, walking with a delicious swap of his ample hips.

“Did ya need any help?” He offered. The crate was full of empty bottles. The Damaxians were a hard drinking crowd when they wanted to be.

“If you wanted to grab one of the crates over there,” Prowl replied. “We sterilize the bottles and then reuse them. It saves on needless waste.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Jazz replied.

Prowl let him through a storage room and down a flight of stairs into the cellar. Swerve had been spot on, this would have once been part of Lockdown’s lair. Where weapons and trophies would once have been held were barrels of engex and the tools of the distiller’s trade. The beauty unloaded the bottles into a sterilization system and then turned to face Jazz. There was an audible ping, at least to Jazz’s own audial horns when Prowl dimmed his optics. Jazz leaned back against the counter at his back as the Praxian leaned in. He smelled like salt air and flowers. His plating tingled as Prowl tinkled his digits down his arm.

“Perhaps I can thank you for your assistance?” The beauty asked. Jazz swallowed.

“Don’t know that I did anything that big,” he replied. “But if ya wanted to...”

“Oh I do,” Prowl assured him as he traced Jazz’s codpiece with a long, clawtipped digit.

“Oh frag,” Jazz cursed as his spike pressurized the nanoklik he authorized his panel to retract. Prowl was a soft sound, maybe a giggle as he took Jazz’s spike in his servo and stroked it twice before leaning in and wrapping his mouth around it. “Oh frag!”

Jazz did not dare risk harming Prowl in anyway.... what if his progenitor walked in? That very thought should have nullified the saboteur’s charge but he had always enjoyed a risk a little bit too much. He leaned back against the counter and watched the beautiful Praxian swallow his spike as he unclasped his armour. Prowl’s heavy wells bounced when they were freed from his armour. It took everything in Jazz’s power not to overload right then and there. No one had ever looked so perfect sucking his spike. Prowl hummed as he sucked and Jazz clenched his denta to keep from overloading too soon. The way the beauty rippled his throat around his spike, there was no way Jazz was going to last that long. He saw Prowl reach between his own legs and touch himself and he knew he was about to lose it.

“‘M gonna cum!” He warned Prowl who just leaned in and sucked a little harder. There was no helping himself, Jazz overloaded with a quiet groan, rolling his helm back as Prowl audible slurped and swallowed every last drop. “Damn, y’re somethin’ else.”

“Mmm,” Prowl hummed, licking his lipplates. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“Let me return the favour,” Jazz offered.

“Oh please do.”

They switched places. Prowl covered his mouth as Jazz knelt between his thighs and leaned. He stroked the Praxian’s node as he spread his wet folds and flicked his glossa between them. It was not long before Jazz felt his spike returning to pressure. He held Prowl’s thick thighs open as he pleasured the beauty with his mouth and digits. Though Prowl muffled his cries of pleasure, Jazz knew when he overloaded from the torrent that covered his face. Jazz rose to his peds, stroking his spike as he looked at the flushed mech below him. Prowl reached between his own thighs and held his wet, swollen folds open, inviting Jazz in. It was an invitation Jazz felt no call to ignore. He stared between the Praxian’s legs and watched himself insert his spike into the beauty’s molten centre.

“Oh frag, ya feel good,” Jazz groaned as he leaned over Prowl. He held the supine mech’s legs behind he knees as he rolled his hips, spiking the mech slowly, giving him the whole length of his thick spike before he pulled out and sank home again.

“Uhn,” Prowl moaned, tossing his helm. “That’s good. Oh... oh... You are so big.”

“Am I hurtin’ ya?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Prowl moaned. “No... harder... frag me harder.”

The gel plug of the Praxian’s gestational duct had started to reform since their last encounter but it was hardly a barrier. Jazz buried his spike in the beauty’s gestational tank and basked a moment in the tight grip of the Praxian’s rippling tunnel. Prowl squealed with delight, calling out praise for Jazz’s spike as he fragged him. Wet squelches and clangs echoed off the cellar’s stone walls. If the innkeepers found him like this... Jazz leaned his helm down and nipped the tip of the Praxian’s chevron as he spiked him with quick thrusts of his hips. Prowl crossed his legs around Jazz’s hips calling out with a throaty cry as he overloaded around Jazz’s turgid spike. His tunnel rippled around Jazz’s spike. There was no escape, not that he wanted to escape.

“Frag, y’re so fraggin’ tight,” Jazz groaned. “Gonna cum...”

“Do it,” Prowl moaned. “Oh frag, cum in me!”

“Oh frag!” Jazz obeyed, flooding the Praxian’s tank with litres of transluids before he collapsed against him. He had a bit more clarity this round than the last. “I think ya might be trouble.”

“Not to worry,” Prowl assured him. “I have an implant.”

“I shoulda asked,” Jazz apologized.

“Neither of us were quite in our right processors,” Prowl replied. They climbed up the stairs after the made themselves presentable. Cleansing wipes removed the telltale signs. It did not bother Jazz knowing that Prowl had them. He was not exactly in a position to question the other mech’s promiscuty when he was no different. In any case, Jazz saw no shame in it. As the stepped from the storage room, Prowl gasped with surprise as he looked out the window. “The sky is red!”

Jazz followed as Prowl ran from the in. He was not the only islander that ran for the docks. A crowd was gathering with those who had been waiting out the storm on their boats had climbed the masts and were pointing to the horizon. It took a few kliks before the battered ship appeared. As it limped into dock, Ori and Rico jogged up and joined Jazz in watching the spectacle. Downshift threw a roped to the beleaguered vessel so they could secure themselves to the dock. It was listing, Jazz realized. The masts were gone, blown away not by rogue waves but canon balls. The signs of a violent battle covered the sloop. Its hull must have been built from ununtrium to have survived such an attack. Prowl joined his progenitor in helping the crew off the vessel.

“We can’t have fuel leak into the bay,” Downshift said. “Might you give permission for one of our shipwrights to make emergency repairs.”

“By all means,” the mech was a curious frametype. He had features of a Urayan but not the stature. There was kibble on his back but it was no door wing. “Whatever the bill is, I can pay it.”

“No charge,” Downshift replied. “Damaxus aids any who sail into her harbour.”

“Damaxus?” The mech looked around, He held a audio player tightly in his arms. “All the stories do you a grave disservice.”

“We don’t complain,” Downshift replied. “Our inn is full but we’ll find berths for your crew.”

“Thank you. I’m Tracks, and this is Blaster,” the Urayan halfbreed replied. As he did, he threw the audio player up and it transformed into a tall mech. “We’ll only need one room. We are the crew... more or less.”

“Downshift. My creation Prowl.”

“I can bunk wit my creations,” Punch offered. “That’d leave a room free.”

“Thank you, Mech!” Blaster replied, shaking Punch’s servo. “And you, Sir. Though I was hallucinating your island.”

“Come to Storm’s End and we’ll get some fuel into you,” Downshift declared.

“What happened?” One of the fishermecha asked.

“Pirates,” Blaster said. “We sailed in the fog ‘n storm. Thought we were clear from those slagtard but then we heard the canons. Next thing, we see them firing at the waves ‘n some beast pulled ‘em down.”

“A beast?” Punch asked.

“Kraken,” Blaster replied. “Saw its shadow, a giant beast.”

“Kraken?” Someone asked. “But those are just stories.”

“Warwhale aren’t that big,” Blaster said. “‘N they don’t got that many arms.”

The pub was full of mechanisms wanting to hear their miraculous story over and over. The crew was more than just the two mech. Blaster was a cassette-carrier and his Casseticons serves as the rest of the crew. They were out of their docks, enjoying a meal as Blaster regaled the crowd again. Tracks nodded along. It seemed like Blaster did most of the talking in their relationship. Even after the beast had ripped the pirate vessel in two and dragged it into the deep, they had realized they were doom. They had already been taking on water and without sails and their engine hardly doing more than sputtering. Blaster said he heard something, like a bird call and as he bullied the shop starboard the horizon turned red and he made the decision to point their ship in that directions. The waves as much as their engine power had washed them into board. It all sounded like a sparkling fantasy but Jazz imagined he might imagine worse in the same situation.

“Ya find anythin’?” Punch asked now that they had retreated to their one room.

“No...” Jazz said. There was a knock at the door. It was Prowl with an armload of bedding. “Thank ya.

“We can drag up a cot,” Prowl offered. “Though it is not terribly comfortable. We have them in case we need to turn the pub into an emergency shelter.”

“We’re fine,” Jazz assured him. “Rico ‘n me’ve bunked together before.”

“Thank ya,” Punch said. “I don’t think I want either o’ them sulkin’ bout sore backs. ‘N it would certainly be one o’ them ‘n not me.”

“I should hope so,” Prowl agreed. There was a rumble above their helms. “It would appears the eye is passing.”

“Those mecha couldn’t o’ gotten more lucky,” Punch declared.

“I could not agree more,” Prowl said.

“Do ya normally repair broken vessels for free?” Jazz asked.

“Damaxus relies on a healthy sea,” Prowl replied. “Some ship owners pinch their shanix and will let their ships sail with cracked hauls and worse. As a community, we all agreed it was better if we see the work done ourselves for the sake of our island.”

“Shipwrights gotta fuel,” Ricochet spoke up. “Someone must pay’em.”

“We have a fund,” Prowl explained. “Everyone who can pays into it. Few on Damaxus dream of reaches. We only want to live our lives in safety and comfort. When we work together, we stand the best hope o’ it.”

“Straxus would sooner cut out in his optics,” Punch said after Prowl took his leave.

“Wonder how long it’ll last once more mecha realize that Damaxus is a paradise?” Jazz wondered out loud.

“Ya’d think they’d be tryin’ to carve out their stake already,” Punch said. “Damaxus is so close to Polyhex, I don’t know why Straxus ain’t heard o’ the boon already.”

“Maybe his scouts got eaten by sharkticon,” Jazz offered.

“Ya joke, but...” Punch hummed. “These mecha are saintly, no question. But we best remember saints can be the most ruthless killers when dealin’ wit sinners. We gotta keep our guards up, ‘cause we ain’t saints.”

#valveplug #maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf barricade #tf punch #tf ricochet #tf camshaft #tf downshift #mechpreg #storm's end

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 16 hours ago

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2025 Megaman Secret Valentine Event Signups Open!

^*Art drawn by Soul Rokkuman

While I wait for the last couple Secret Santa gifts to arrive, going to move on to opening the next yearly event. Even though last year I went back to Valentine's Day being in contest format, I feel like it's worth swapping back to a gift art event this year, to mix it up again. Truth be told, just hard to brainstorm much new for categories right now. And my contest prize plans are better off for summer, when more people are able to participate. (I do have a few nice prizes I plan to give away for that ;D ). So rather than rushing those plans, just going to keep this event more relaxed once more. For those who didn't participate 2 years ago, the Secret Valentine Event works much like Robot Rumpus/Megaman Secret Santa. Sign up with the intent to draw, by providing a list of your favorite characters and couples, that you would like as a Valentine gift. After signups close you will receive a target, with the goal of drawing something from their list for them, to send them as a Valentine.

Sign Up Instructions: 1.) When you are ready, either post a reply in this thread or send me a DM via tumblr or Bluesky or sign up through my Discord server: (https://discord.gg/EjHZJ7D3Xm), stating that you intend to sign up to draw for someone. 2.) In your reply/message, please include a wish list with a minimum of 3 prompts, either individual fave characters or couples from the Megaman franchise, that you would be happy to have drawn for you as Valentine’s gift art. Megaman-related OCs are OK, but please include at least one canon character. 3.) Let me know if you can be a backup artist or not, if someone has to drop out/can't complete their gift

Artwork does not necessarily have to be romance themed, but it is preferred to fit with the holiday. But some singles are happy by themselves on the day of love, so you can certainly find a way to make single characters feel appreciated/loved in your art, too.

Any kind of artstyle and medium are welcome, with the exception of AI slop. Has to be your own work only.

Signups will run from today until Tuesday, Jan. 14th, 2025.

That gives you one week to sign up.

On Wed. the 15th, Cupid Wily and I will message everyone back with their assignment, and their assignment’s wish list. Then you will have one month to create your gift art for your Secret Valentine.

Secret Valentine’s art will be due Friday Feb. 14th, 2025, by the global end of the day.

But I'll work in a week or so grace period if people need an extension. It would be nice if gifts were given on Valentine's Day, but since this won't be a competition, I'll be a little flexible if people need a little more time than a month to draw. While the gift should go to your recipient first and foremost, please also either send them my way when you are finished or tag me in a public post so that I can save the art. I will then compile all the art into a homemade Valentine’s Day shoebox gallery/thread like I usually do for contests. That way everyone can view them together in one place just as easily.

Please do not post your art before Feb. 14th!

Ideally, send your secret valentine their gift at any point on Valentine's Day itself. Either through DM or publicly tagging them in a post on your social media of choice. Posts can also be made in the valentine's day channel in the Fanart Contests and Events section of my Discord.

Any other questions, or something you felt I forgot to address? Feel free to ask.

I’ll edit a confirmed participant list in this thread as I receive them. (Just like I need to edit the year to 2025, because I really screwed that up initially! LOL)

*Confirmed participant list*

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #2024 Megaman Secret Valentine Event

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satancopilotsmytardis · 1 year ago

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Title: Home is Where...

Pairing: ShigaDabi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-con

Tags: Yandere!Shigaraki, non-consensual somnophilia, sex toys, anal fingering, handjobs, semi-public sex, crossdressing, forced feminization, domestic submission, abusive relationships, anal sex, dacryphilia, League as family. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: A commission for @psi-neko , who wanted to see Yandere!Shigaraki, domestic submission, somnophilia, and more family moments with the League!

The League has moved into a new safe house and Dabi is on lockdown after garnering too much attention from the police and heroes. He finds himself slowly but surely taking on more of the household chores, and that Shigaraki seems to be watching him at every moment. That's nothing to be worried about though, right? After all, the smell of rain that he keeps waking up to must just be his imagination, he always locks his door at night after all.

Dabi is not entirely sure how they went from living on the streets to Shigaraki calling them all back to a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. He really has no fucking clue how the boss somehow got a three-story house with four bedrooms and a finished basement, fully furnished with the utilities on. No idea if this was a safe house or something that AFO had before that he somehow managed to figure out was still safe prior to Kurogiri getting arrested or what, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth too much. Really, really not going to complain when, despite arriving last, he ends up with one of the bedrooms upstairs with Duster, Compress and Toga in the rooms on the second floor, and Twice and Spinner taking the basement.

They all get settled in, making sure that the blinds are shut tight in every room. If they can just do their best to not draw any attention from the neighbors then they should be able to stay here a while. But once they've gotten the lay of the land they all end up back downstairs in the living room for a debriefing, first one they've all been around for at the same time since just after dealing with Overhaul. And everything is fine, he would dare say normal even. He's been out recruiting, Toga and Compress have been doing spy shit, Spinner and Twice have been trying to find anyone that might be able to reproduce the quirk erasing bullets for them. All the stuff they're supposed to be doing--

"For the next few weeks, you four can also start looking for recruits again, but anyone even remotely interested has to be vetted by myself or Dabi prior to any meet-ups, understood?" Shigaraki doesn't even glance in Twice's direction as he says it, but they all feel that slight sting. Yeah well, none of them are mad at Jin about that-- he didn't know how much of a psycho Overhaul was gonna be. But Magne is still gone, Compress is still permanently disabled. It still was something that hurt them and they're making do in the aftermath. Whatever. "Dabi, you'll be at base until further notice. You can help me coordinate and decrypt the files my teacher left behind."

He blinks. "What? No, I'm in charge of recruitment, Giran said he had something interesting in Fukuoka--"

Shigaraki levels him with flat red eyes, "No. You've drawn far too much attention to yourself in the past few weeks. You're the most recognizable of us and your quirk is the most obvious and easy to trace. You're on house arrest until things cool off."

He is really about to start bitching in earnest, but then he notices that Shigaraki isn't even clawing at his neck anymore. Which means he is dead set on this and just as ready for this to be a physical fight as Dabi was gearing up for a verbal one. He grits his teeth and bites out, "Fine." Which is a lot less of a fight than he would have put up at the beginning. At least they have a whole house to hole up in. Better than the shitty bar or the shack they were using a few weeks ago.

The others seem to let out the collective breath that they were holding and Compress speaks up next. "I can check on things in Fukuoka, if you'd like." Dabi waves him off. They can do whatever the fuck they want. He doubts it was anything that interesting anyway.

They finish up the meeting and when that's done, there's a pause. Been a long time since they had somewhere safe and comfortable to stay. Takes all of ten minutes before they all start to break off to do their own things. Thinks Toga is going to take a bath, Compress heads towards the kitchen to make sure that the rest of them actually eat, Spinner and Duster start in on some game from the ancient console gathering dust under the TV with Twice cheering them on, and he makes his way up to his room. As annoying as being locked down is, he has been doing the most running around for the past few months, has barely had a place to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Can't exactly say that he's going to resent the opportunity to pass out for a solid eight hours in an actual bed.

The others, very wisely, don't bother him once he shuts himself away for the night.

///

Dabi learns three things very, very quickly once he is on house arrest. The first is that he is bored all of the time. He always bitched at the others for being sat around doing nothing when he popped back into base with updates, but he gets it now. There just isn't that much to do. He and Shigaraki work on trying to coordinate and run down leads based on what they still have from AFO, but that's a lot of putting out lines and waiting for a bite. They can't train with their quirks without drawing attention, and they can't leave the house. Thank god they have power and internet here at least because he's pretty sure he would be pulling out staples just for something to do otherwise.

The second thing that becomes increasingly obvious is that the rest of his cohorts have never lived in a house like this, or if they did, they were never responsible for its upkeep. Spinner and Twice are so bluntly and obviously reclusive bachelors and they are always leaving dishes in the sink and laundry in the dryer. Pretty sure neither of them have ever touched a fucking vacuum in their lives either. Toga knows how to do chores and usually doesn't make too much of a mess, has gotten glimpses of her room and it's cluttered with as many cute things as she can get her hands on to make her space feel warm and homey, but generally clean. Compress, unsurprisingly, seems to know how to keep things in order, but he's not around as much since he has been traveling the most. Shigaraki, from what he can tell, also knows how to clean up after himself, but he definitely wasn't doing the majority of housework with Kurogiri or AFO. And Dabi is trying very, very hard not to care, or think about any of that. He lasts all of nine days. Gets up one morning and finds the sink piled high with dishes and mud tracked in from the back door and unfortunately cannot contain himself any longer.

By the time the others are making their way downstairs he's vacuumed and scrubbed the floors, dusted everything from the baseboards to the ceiling fans, wiped down the counters and furniture with cleaner, cleaned the bathrooms, washed and put away the dishes, made breakfast, and written out a grocery list to plan for the rest of the week. There's definitely a confused, sleepy air hanging around the others as they come into the kitchen, an island at the center and dining area tucked off to the side before leading into the backyard, and find food laid out and waiting.

"You... cooked?" And Spinner sounds genuinely baffled.

"Yeah well, none of you fucking can." He snaps, Compress excluded, but he's not in a particularly charitable mood at the moment.

"You cleaned too." And Shigaraki's tone is more considering.

He sneers at them all. "Clearly none of you are capable of that either. If you make a mess on purpose I'll fucking incinerate you." Turns back to the sink to finish rinsing the cooking dishes and get those loaded into the dishwasher. "Food's getting cold."

Really not expecting Toga to press along his back, catching him in a tight, warm hug that does something unforgivable to his chest, as she murmurs, "Thanks, Dabi."

Genuinely glad he always sounds gruff with them when he mutters back, "Whatever, leech."

So he takes over the household stuff, and that only alleviates his boredom about thirty percent of the time. Unfortunately, that does lead him to his third observation: Shigaraki seems to be always watching him.

That's something he becomes aware of by inches. At first, he just noticed that he started seeing Shig at least once a day, then a little more often. He chalked that up to the fact that he started cooking most meals now that they weren't living off of convenience store food and cup noodles, but no. Whenever he was in one of the other rooms, Duster would wander in and find a reason to stay. Usually didn't make small talk with him, which he was perfectly happy to avoid, but he didn't know why the other man would keep getting into his space. Definitely didn't like how Shigaraki always seemed to be watching him with those sharp, creepy blood red eyes whenever he glanced up from whatever he was doing. Something about the look robbed him of the attitude he would have leveled at the others for staring.

Maybe it was because Shigaraki never did it when the others were around, which left some kind of alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind. But their creepy boss hasn't done anything yet. Doesn't know how he would even bring it up without sounding insanely paranoid on top of his usual bitchiness. So Dabi doesn't say anything.

Probably should have.

///

Things come to a head one night after dinner. The others are still all out, might not come back for a day or two depending on any difficulties they might find traveling. He and Shig eat, they don't talk much, not usually in an uncomfortable way. More in a not really knowing what to even talk about when it's just them that's not work, and they've already dealt with that today. So instead things are quiet as they eat. When they're finished, Dabi starts to clean up. The annoyance about doing the housework had worn off stunningly quickly in the wake of not having much to do. At least he can be useful while trapped in the house. And the cleaning, cooking, just... putting things in order, it taps into something in his head. Calms him down. Can't control how fast he's going to get to his revenge, hasn't been in control of most of what's happened to him for the past decade, but at least in this place, he's able to exercise some control over his situation.

He's fucking glad they have a dishwasher though, because the seams across his palms are already not thrilled with how much he's been irritating them with scrubbing floors, and tubs, and surfaces. Lets out a soft hiss of breath as the hot water hits his seam and that one has just had it with his bullshit today. A thin trickle of blood goes pink and washes away with the water. He turns off the tap and is about to reach for a towel, but he's abruptly paused when Shigaraki is right in his space. His skin heats sharply as his panic spikes when the other man catches him with four fingers around his wrist. Duster acts as if he hasn't even noticed, like this is normal, before bringing the towel to his hand and gently drying his skin. He's careful not to pull at his staples any more than Dabi already has, but it's still so strange that Dabi can't relax.

"I didn't realize you would be such a good homemaker." Definitely hasn't ever heard Shigaraki's voice low like that and it has his skin bristling. Especially when he tries to pull his hand back and Shig holds a little tighter, raised finger dropping just enough to keep him from giving a more insistent tug as his nervousness spikes.

"...Better soldier, if you let me stop spinning my wheels." He tries to sound mostly unfazed, but he doesn't think he pulls it off.

"No, I like having you right here, where I can see you. Where I know you're being so well-behaved for me." His mind goes unhelpfully blank when Shigaraki lifts his hand, dips his head, so he can press a soft kiss to his aching seam. Dabi bristles slightly. Tries to pull his hand back again, and that last deadly finger lowers a little more. He stills. Lets Duster press his palm briefly to his cheek before he straightens and lets go of him. It takes more restraint than he knew he had to not snatch his hand back from the space between them, to move slowly and deliberately, leaving the rest of the dishes and stepping around the other man who has practically trapped him between the sink and island.

"Not sure what it says that you're turned on by housework, but I'm not interested, Duster."

Sends something very cold through his gut when Shigaraki keeps watching him with those dissecting red eyes and the barest touch of a smile curling his lips. "You will be, firefly." He really does not like how sure the other man sounds and as soon as he's far enough away that he'd be able to set off his flames faster than he thinks Shigaraki could reach for him, he turns and heads swiftly back upstairs to his room. Throwing the lock into place isn't really that much of a reassurance when the whole door could be turned to dust in a few seconds, but that would be pretty hard for Shigaraki to explain to the others. Still has a hard time falling asleep that night.

///

Shigaraki doesn't treat him any differently while they're working, but he is always watching him while he's in the common areas of the house, especially when he's cleaning or cooking. Doesn't try anything again, but those red eyes are following him into his sleep.

The first dream happened after he finally managed to sleep the night Shigaraki cornered him in the kitchen. Had been so simple. Cool lips against his cheek through the dark, fingers trailing along his throat, down his chest, stopping as they drifted low on his stomach. And then nothing. He woke up the next morning foggy and confused, but didn't think too hard about it. Not until the same thing happened the next night. The lips in his dream trailed a little further along his jaw, the fingers starting on his thighs and working their way up. He did his best to ignore it, but when he swore that he was starting to come out of sleep with the smell of petrichor in his nose, the smell that follows Shigaraki around, he started to question if it was just paranoia and weird dreams. Still hasn't said anything though, doesn't know how he can even bring it up without stirring the pot in a way he really doesn't want to, especially when his door is always firmly locked when he comes to each morning.

Wakes up this morning with the memory of lips pressing softly to his own and resolves that he's going to have to do something about these weird ass dreams before he loses any more of his mind. He gets dressed, though he's given up on his villain gear, sticking with casual clothes until he's allowed out of the house again, and heads to go get started on breakfast. Not expecting to nearly trip on a small brown box as he opens his door. Dabi pauses, nudges it with his toe, half expecting it to be some kind of prank. He would absolutely not put it past Toga to try to glitter bomb him-- but the box is light and inert against his socked foot. He picks it up and retreats over to the desk to get the scissors.

When he gets it open he finds a pair of black rubber gloves inside. It's a gift that only serves to confuse him more. Isn't sure if it's an apology for being so weird the other night, or if Duster is just that level of inept that the whole situation came off so much creepier than he'd intended.

Either way, his seams are a lot happier with him when he wears them as he's wiping down the counters after breakfast, and Duster looks a little self-satisfied as well. He doesn't thank the other man. An additional fee for being such a creep.

///

Dabi is starting to think that there is a plot happening in the house, and paranoid or not, it definitely seems to be conspiring against him in particular. Because this is the second time in as many days that he's walked into a room and conversation has abruptly died.

"What the fuck is going on?" Maybe a touch nastier than he usually is with them at this point, but he does not like how they all are suddenly pretending to be busy with their own things as he comes in to get started on dinner, the kitchen open to the living room.

"Nothing!" Toga says too loud, too quick, too bright with a big smile full of fangs. Doesn't believe her for a second and she must know it. But she continues anyway, "What's for dinner?"

"Fucking nothing unless you spill the beans, brat."

"Oh, that's alright, Dabi." Compress says as he pushes off the couch, already undoing his cufflinks to roll his sleeves. "You've been doing so much of the domestic chores, why don't I handle dinner tonight?"

And he really doesn't know what to do with the way that makes his chest kind of hurt a little. "Whatever, do what you want." Feels incredibly petulant when he turns his ass right back around and heads upstairs. Fine, if they don't want him to know whatever's going on, if they want to mock him for trying to find ways to occupy his time, then they can fend for their fucking selves. He drops onto his bed and figures he'll go down and eat after the others are finished. He hears Duster pass by his room and the door shut softly half an hour later.

He wasn't even tired when he laid down, but in a matter of minutes his eyes are so heavy he couldn't keep them open if he wanted to.

///

Cold hands on his body, cool lips against his neck, a weight settled over him. Dabi squirms in the dark, trying to shift away. Something in him knows that the sensations are wrong, that something is going on, but his mind is so thick and foggy he can't pay attention. The dream presses in closer. It pushes up his shirt to expose his chest and there are lips and fingers there too. Teasing little licks and tugs at his piercings that are making his skin go hotter. A lot hotter when there's pressure against his crotch. When after a few teasing strokes and squeezes, a hand is slipping into his pants. Oh. Dabi lets out a thin moan, forgetting the discomfort from before as he has good friction against his cock for the first time in ages. Can't even remember the last time he jacked off. Just knows that having a cool, firm touch against his overheated skin is sending his pleasure higher. The touches are firm and sure, they move against him and he lets himself be swept along by the sensations. His skin is nearly humming, everything feeling so much more intense in the blackness of his dream. Wonders if that's why he imagines the smell of petrichor again.

"Shigaraki?" His tongue is so heavy, the word slurred so much that he barely thinks it can even count as a word in the first place. But the hand around his cock stills for a second, but then it's moving again, firmer, faster, and the lips are back at his neck. Makes everything feel so much better with an insistence that has him moaning and squirming again, his cock dripping against the phantom palm stroking him. Is teetering on the edge of his orgasm so soon. Is sent over the edge when teeth start at his neck, licking and sucking, and then biting hard enough that he's whimpering as that little flare of pain is enough. His orgasm feels so good as it washes over him. It leaves his muscles trembling softly as he settles again. As the teeth pull themselves from his skin and lips press another kiss there instead.

The darkness feels much heavier again and the rest of his dream is blissfully empty.

///

"Dabi?" Toga's voice coming through the door, accompanied by a knock. Fuck, he feels like he got hit by a train. Can't remember the last time he slept so hard. He starts to shift and is abruptly more awake than he was a moment ago because the inside of his sweatpants is soiled and sticky with old cum. His face burns and he glances at the door, overwhelmingly relieved that it's locked as she tries the handle gently.

He thinks he manages to sound annoyed instead of embarrassed when he snaps, "What, leech?"

There's a slight pause, "We made breakfast, are you going to come down?" Breakfast? He glances over at the clock and blinks. Nine a.m. It was definitely barely after seven when he came in here last night. Doesn't know how that happened. Fuck, the others probably thought he was acting like even more of a mopey teenager than he was.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a bit, brat." Anything to get her to leave so he can be mortified about the mess he's made of himself in private. Hears her footsteps going and gets out of bed, stripping out of his sweats and trying to clean up a bit with some tissues before he has to make his way to the bathroom. He thought he was in a coma during the embarrassing wet dream years, really didn't think he was going to have to deal with them now. Must have been more pent up than he thought to have such a weird dream.

He's not really thinking that much when his hand moves to his neck, to where he remembers teeth. It's tender to the touch and the blood drains from his face. throws on clean clothes and heads to the bathroom. The mirror offers no insights, his skin too dark to see a bruise. Dabi tries to calm down. His door was locked, he'd unlocked it himself, heard it rattle soundly in place when Toga tried. Must have just slept weird and his dreams turned the ache into a sensation that went along with the rest of the dream. He tries to shake the uneasiness from his mind as he cleans up and gets ready for the day.

By the time he's made it downstairs, he can already hear the others all lively in the kitchen, food already on the table.

"Yo, there you are, what happened to you last night, man?" Spinner greets from in front of the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice.

"I tried to knock last night and you didn't answer," Shigaraki says dryly, not even looking up from whatever game he's tapping away at on his phone. Shigaraki? Tries to shake himself quickly before heat can head to his face. Must have heard him through the door. Must have been why he'd thought of him--

"I put on a book," taken to listening to them while he's been working around the house with his headphones on. "And it literally bored me to sleep." Not really expecting a palpable release of tension to be banished from the room, but the others all seem to perk up, except Duster who looks completely nonplussed by the whole situation.

"So you're not mad?"

Definitely was last night, but that feels a million miles away now. "No, is that about to change abruptly?"

"It depends on how you feel about puns, I guess," Spinner says, which instills no confidence in him as Toga rushes over to the table and pulls a flat box off of his chair, before bringing it back to him, nearly bouncing.

"Open it!"

"We wanted to thank you for everything you've been doing for us over the past few weeks," Compress tells him more calmly as he hesitantly takes the box. Kind of wants to crawl out of his skin as he opens it under their watchful eyes.

The ache in his chest goes so much sharper as he pulls the bundle of blue and black fabric from the box. An apron, messily died into a black and blue gradient, puffy paint messily declaring 'If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen!' on the front. Little blobs of blue paint frame the kanji on either side that he thinks are supposed to be flames. He doesn't say anything for an agonizingly long moment, doesn't know how to speak when his lungs feel like they've collapsed in on themselves. It takes him a second to look up and he finds that they're all watching him, an earnestness across their features that he thinks is going to tear him open at the seams.

"You're all a bunch of fucking saps." But his voice is not as even as he'd like it to be.

Says something about how well he's let them know him that none of them comment on it, instead letting him slip into his chair at the table and starting the usual chatter as they start to eat. They still leave to go out on their jobs, he's still on house arrest, but when he goes to clean up the mess from breakfast, he does it with his gloves and apron on.

///

Things go back to normal, for everyone else. The others were apparently sneaking around the house and whispering because they were trying to figure out how to make the gift and were worried about him overhearing, but now that the cat is out of the bag, they're all back to normal. And Dabi is still having wet dreams like a horny teenager and he's absolutely fucking mortified about it. He's been sleeping so deeply, feeling hands all over him in the dark, stroking him and bringing him off, kisses pressed along his jaw, cheeks, and neck, fingers toying with his nipples, he feels so filthy every time he wakes up with cum staining the inside of his pajamas. Never had this happen before and what's worse is that every dream is full of indistinguishable heavy darkness and the smell of rain. Which means that he's dreaming about Shigaraki every time and he really doesn't know what to do about that. Only just started getting along with him for work things a few weeks ago, didn't think that would develop into anything else, but apparently, the other man had infected him with that kiss against his seams to have his subconscious so needy for him.

Not that he's ever going to let Duster know that.

The dreams become such a persistent and embarrassing routine over the next week that Dabi finally gives in and tries to cut them off. Fine, he's clearly more sexually frustrated than he thought he was, okay, so he deals with that. He honestly is more interested in going out and railing or getting railed than masturbating, but since he's still on lockdown, he settles for this. Digs out a packet of lube from the bottom of his duffle and gets on his bed. Tries to think about anything besides the dreams and his creepy boss, but the four-fingered touches keep coming to the forefront of his mind as he starts to stroke himself. By the time there are thin wisps of smoke coming out of his seams and he's dripping against his palm, Dabi has his knuckles pressed to his mouth, trying to muffle any sounds. Would be absolutely mortifying if,

"Tomura," Shigaraki heard him gasping his name through the wall as Dabi stripes his hand with his cum. Mortifying enough as is. He cleans up, pulls his pajama bottoms back on, and hits the light, hoping that he's staved off the dreams for the night. If he can just avoid waking up in soiled sweats again, then he will accept this as a win.

///

Hands on his body, rougher than before. They pull at his pajamas, never tugged at his clothes like this before, taking them off as lips move almost frantically across his jaw. Until they seal over his own. Definitely never done that before. Fingers on his jaw as soon as he's pulled away his sweats, pulling his mouth open so a tongue can push greedily inside. Dabi lets out a muffled sound, not sure what's happening why the dream is so much more than it usually is, jolting slightly when the hands go back to his thighs and spread them wide so that a solid weight can settle between them. Dabi feels more overwhelmed, more devoured by the touches than he has in any of the dreams before, the mouth barely leaving his long enough for him to breathe, and he starts to struggle, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations. It has the hands around his thighs tightening sharply, hard enough that it pulls at the staples there and sparks pain across his skin.

He lets out a sharper gasp as his eyes open, trying to flinch away from the pressure. Shigaraki holds him still as he presses in to kiss him again.

Dabi lets out a thin sound of shock as reality comes crashing in on him. Not wet dreams, not a dream, Shigaraki touching him, coming into his room-- Panic, fear, disgust, all spike so sharply in him as he reaches for his quirk, as he tries to get his sleep-heavy limbs coordinated enough to push him away, to light him on fire for touching him-- and his quirk doesn't react at all. His arms feel like noodles as he gets his hands against Shigaraki's chest. Can't put any force behind the movement. Tries to bite him, and it's barely a nip.

Shigaraki pulls away after a moment, red eyes locking with his and dark with his lust. "There you are, firefly. Was hoping you would wake up for this."

"G...et off," hard to speak too, fuck, everything feels heavy and hazy. Been sleeping so hard lately, fuck, not sleeping. Drugged. Doesn't know how Shigaraki has been doing it, but he must have been. Dabi is far too paranoid to sleep through someone sneaking into his room.

"Oh sweetheart, why would I do that?" Dabi is choked with panic as he feels Shigaraki wrap four ungloved fingers around his half-hard cock, stroking him like he's already figured out every way to make him hot. Has, probably, in the week he's been molesting him in his sleep. "When you wanted me so badly earlier you couldn't even wait for me to come and see you, pretty boy."

He tries to shake his head, tries to squirm away, can barely move at all. "S-stop,"

"Been waiting so long for you to show me that you were ready for more." Terror and anguish crash in on his chest when wet fingers start to rub against his hole, making him nearly whimper.

"Don't!" Can't get as much force behind the word as he wants, but the more he tries to focus, the easier speech becomes. If he shouts--

"Shh, don't want the others to hear you, pretty thing." Duster sinks a finger inside of him and Dabi lets out a harsh pant. Can't move enough to fight him, can't use his quirk for some reason, if he has to scream for help then fine, anything to keep from being raped by his psychotic boss. The hand around his cock shifts to his thigh, Shigaraki starts to drum his fingers against the skin over his artery, a deliberate, threatening rhythm as his mouth trails along his cheek so he can murmur in his ear. "You wouldn't want them to come knocking and find you like this, would you? Pretty cock dripping and hole stretching so eagerly around my fingers, door locked, not even struggling? Do you really think they would believe you if you said you didn't want it?" He pushes in a second finger as he's speaking, rubbing and stretching, and then crooking-- Dabi lets out an involuntary moan, his eyes squeezing shut as Shigaraki rubs against his prostate and sends unwanted pleasure spilling out across his nerves. "When your body is so clearly desperate for my cock, sweetheart? Scream if you want, precious, happy to show off the cute sounds you always make when I'm touching you." Lips pressing softly and sweetly against his cheek as Dabi whimpers, words dying in his throat. The fingers keep tapping along his thigh. Prepared to kill or maim him if he tries anyway.

He grits his teeth and swallows away any screams or further protests as Shigaraki keeps working him open. Gets him stretched and wet, his body forced pliant from whatever the other man dosed him with. And then he's shifting, pulling his cock free from his sleep pants and Dabi can't help it, lets out a weak sob. He doesn't think he's ever felt more helpless since he was a child as Shigaraki spreads lube over himself before resettling between his legs and pushing his thick head against his hole. Duster presses more soft kisses against his cheeks, under his eyes as the first drops of blood slip over his cheeks, shushing him gently.

He cries harder as Shigaraki presses inside of his body. Wanted to be full like this a few hours ago, and his body keeps betraying him by feeling so good as he's stretched so full of Duster's cock. Bites as hard as he can at his lip, trying to chase away the pleasure dancing along his nerves, but Shigaraki must want it to feel good. Kisses him again and again, hands moving over his body, one returning to stroke his cock in time with his deliberate rolling thrusts that have him sinking in so deep and rubbing over his prostate each time he moves. A slow, deliberate, building rhythm that soaks his body in unwanted arousal even as his stomach curdles. Can't help the little breathless whimpers that keep sneaking out of him.

"Perfect, baby, so pretty when you cry, feel so good," fucks him leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. "So glad you finally called for me, firefly. Didn't know how long I could keep waiting," more kisses, hands holding him a little tighter. "Told you that you would want it, can't wait to have you like this every night."

Doesn't know if it's terror or shame that consumes him as Shigaraki keeps murmuring in his ear as he works them both steadily towards their climaxes. Just knows that by the time it's over he's been broken again in some new, fresh way he has no idea how to cope with.

///

Dabi's not quite sure how it could even happen, but somehow he managed to pass out after that. Wakes up feeling foggy and a little sore, his gut hollow, and skin cleaner than it should be. And cuddled up against Shigaraki's chest, deadly hands petting softly over his skin and face pressed into his hair. Dabi tenses, reaching for his quirk--

"None of that, firefly." A burst of pain starts somewhere near his lower back, a spike of something numb and cold before agony creeps through him and he loses all of the breath in his lungs in a split second as he hears his skin crack. Dabi sharply drops his temperature again, doesn't dare try to reach for his flames again and the pain stops. The whole room is spinning as he realizes that Shigaraki just used Decay on him. Hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look up, and Dabi can't help the muted sound of terror that slips out of his lips to have him touching him there. Duster's eyes are warm, a soft smile on his lips, "Shh baby, it's alright, can you take a slow breath for me?"

Can he? Dabi forces himself to as Shigaraki rubs his thumb just under his eye, can feel four points of contact against his cheek. He manages to suck in a breath.

"Good boy, out." He listens, trapped between deadly hands, until he's not hyperventilating anymore. But the pain still radiating out from his back is sharp and raw. "There." He holds very still as Shigaraki leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

"Shigaraki this is-- you can't do this," He doesn't know if he's ever heard his voice so thin and terrified.

Shigaraki's voice has no right to be so soft as he pulls Dabi even closer until their foreheads are pressed together. "Why not? You came and found me, you decided to stay by my side, you've been so eager to show me how useful you can be. You've been practically begging for me to make you mine." One hand stays on his cheek, but the other wraps back around his waist, pulling their bodies even closer, and Dabi's panic spikes. "I was going to wait a little longer, until you came to me again, but last night, you were so needy, so desperate to be claimed, I couldn't leave you aching." Lips against his temple. "And now you don't have to worry about that again. Never going to be needy now that you're mine."

"Shigaraki--" Words turning to ash in his throat as the hand trails down to his ass, swallowing hard and trembling, not sure if he's more terrified of the sting of Decay or if he's scared of him forcing his fingers inside dry.

"Mine, Dabi, you understand that, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Stop, Shig, please--"

"Mine," Duster murmuring the words against his temple, "Because everyone knows you're with the League, because if you try to run, no one will help you. Because if you try to use your quirk," the hand moves up to his back again, pressing roughly enough on the wound that he cries out softly. "I'll have to use mine." Did it over one of his patches of scars, he realizes dizzily. Even if he told the others, if he tries to show them proof-- probably just looks like one of his staples tore loose. Anguish is building in his chest. "I don't want to do that. You're so beautiful, I don't want to have to punish you, but I will if you make me."

"Don't," Always thought Shigaraki was kind of creepy, but Dabi never expected to be scared of him. "Please, we can forget about this, I won't say anything--" Has had so many horrible things happen to him, what's one more? Can put this away, can hide it, and hold on until he finds an opportunity to burn Shigaraki out too.

Shigaraki ignores him, "There are some rules that you'll have to follow now that you're mine, baby boy. And as long as you follow them," fingers digging into the wound again, making black spots burst across his vision, "I won't have to punish you again. Understand?"

He really thinks he might vomit, but he forces himself to nod.

"Good boy, we're going to go over them now," Shigaraki presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "On your hands and knees, baby."

Dabi gives a weak sob even as he starts to move.

///

That was three weeks ago. Shigaraki made sure that he was settled into his ownership, made sure that he was used to his new routine and Dabi had a few more patches of Decay across his body from fighting at first. Stopped soon enough when he realized just how unhinged Shigaraki is, when he was made abundantly aware that if he kept struggling that he wouldn't even make it to a fight with his father.

The others still come and go for their own jobs, Shigaraki still has him working on things he doesn't need to leave for, and... has him doing the housework. Mocked him for that before this started, but now it's become clear that's part of whatever delusion the other villain has constructed. That this is their home, not just a safe house, that Dabi is doing all of this as an act of service, of devotion. Makes him sick to his stomach because it kind of was before Shigaraki twisted it. Started cleaning just because he couldn't stand the mess, but then the others had been so surprised, so happy with it all. He'd started doing it for them. Thinks that's the only reason he doesn't hate it now as he keeps at it even when--

"Are you almost finished, baby?" Deadly hands catch him around his hips as Shigaraki's body presses along his spine. He doesn't even shiver anymore. Routine.

"Yes, sir." Was cleaning up after prepping things for dinner. The others won't probably be back until late, just wanted to have things ready to throw in the oven once they came back. Routine to have Shigaraki peppering kisses along his neck, a hand slipping over his ass and making him all too aware of the plug keeping him ready to take the other man's cock whenever he wants him to.

Routine to have him wake every morning, shower, prepare himself for the day, and then have to go into Shigaraki's room, get on his hands and knees, and let the other man open him up and slip the plug inside. Makes him wear it until they turn in for the night, only takes it out then. At first, he thought that would mean that Shigaraki would be using him every day, but he doesn't. Just wants the constant knowledge that he will again to sit on his nerves. He belongs to Duster, keeping him full of the plug is a reminder.

But Sir does actually seem to want him right now. He can feel him pressing half-hard against him as his mouth moves over his skin, the other hand snaking around to slip under his apron and shirt to toy with the seam curving across his stomach. Dabi hates how quickly he's learned every place that can make him hot, how he always makes sure his need is so high against his will that by the time Sir's cock is buried inside of him, he can't do anything but sob and moan, his body betraying him when he rocks back to get more friction. He does his best not to squirm as his face starts to heat with his humiliation.

"Please sir, just a few more minutes? I just want to keep things tidy for you."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" But his mouth is more insistent against his neck. Sensitive there from his scars and none of his other partners ever touched him there because of them. Between that, the probing touches slowly drifting lower across his stomach, and Tomura grinding his cock against him, it has him close to trembling embarrassingly quickly as sour arousal starts to slip along his nerves. "Always being such a good girl," Dabi's humiliation spikes sharply, his face burning as he really does start to shake. Another thing of Shigaraki's. Likes to call him that, treat him like his little housewife. Makes Dabi disgusted with himself because it has his cock starting to harden. Worse because Duster chuckles against his skin, knows how hot that makes him too. "What if I want you to be a mess, precious?"

The hand moves from his stomach up to his mouth and Dabi opens automatically. Knows that he's supposed to. Sir presses his fingers past his lips, has him lick at them. He's already wet, but he would rather have more than less when it comes to being split open around Sir's cock, so he licks at his cool skin until Tomura is satisfied. Is expecting the other man to make him bend over the island again and tug his sweats down so he can remove his plug and fuck him full, but instead his wet hand slips down his front, under his waistband. Dabi lets out a thready moan as he wraps his fingers insistently around his cock and starts to stroke and tease him. Doesn't know if this is better or worse, but Shigaraki doesn't always want to get off himself when he corners Dabi. Seems to take so much delight in making him 'feel good' like for every second of forced pleasure, Dabi isn't left sobbing just as long. Tomura's mouth goes back to his neck as he strokes him, his other hand slipping under his shirt to toy with the piercings through his nipples. Dabi tries to ignore everything else, just let it happen and then it will be over again.

At least... at least Tomura's obsessions all just want him subservient, want him... enjoying himself if not happy. Doesn't seem to delight in any greater cruelty than making him cry. Doesn't seem to actually enjoy hurting him with his quirk when he misbehaves. It could be worse, it could be so much worse, he remembers how his mother used to not be able to walk, how her pale skin would be mottled with bruises over and over again until she finally got pregnant with Shoto. If he has to endure this, then he'd rather Shigaraki be obsessed with the idea of them as a happy couple rather than as a plaything to be used and ruined at his whim.

"Tomura," Gasped out because he's starting to drip as the other man plays with his ladder, his mouth sucking a bruise no one will be able to see on the sensitive patch of skin just below his ear.

"That's it, princess, show me how much you want it."

Hard to make his shaking muscles comply, but he forces himself to start to move, fucking into Shigaraki's hand as his arousal creeps higher and higher. Will probably be over once he cums. Tomura will probably want him on his knees later before he takes out his plug. Tries to put that out of his mind. Friction is friction.

He's so close when he hears the front door unlock and his veins are drenched with ice. He tries to twist away from Shigaraki. The others don't know about this. Doesn't want them to know. Doesn't know how he would tell them. What Shigaraki would do to them if they tried to stop what's happening? Duster is more than willing to use force to get what he wants, has let so many other members of the League be tossed aside if that would get him closer to his goals. Would he hurt them to keep him just like this?

Sir's hand moves faster over him, keeping his pleasure sharp as he hears Spinner enter the house with a loud, "Yo," in greeting.

"If you track in mud," Dabi is almost proud of how little his voice shakes, how agitated he manages to sound instead of humiliated, "I'll kill you, gecko." Rain has been pattering against the roof all day. Must be soaked. He's dripping all over Tomura's hand. Dabi shoves his knuckles between his teeth to muffle any sounds as Duster twists at his piercings and sinks his teeth into the other side of his neck. Just hard enough. Learned that just the right spark of pain--

"Yeah, yeah, I'm taking off my boots."

Dabi lets out a harsh pant and a muffled cry as Shigaraki rolls his hips against his, making his plug shift inside of him, and that does it. Spills all over his boxers and sweats, his legs wanting to drop out from under him. Can't let the unwanted pleasure of his orgasm shake through him for too long, realizes that he did exactly what Sir wanted and made a mess as he moves away from him, going over to wash his hands before helping him to put things away. Dabi is about to be absolutely mortified when their companion walks in before he realizes that his apron is hiding the wet spot from view.

Spinner comes in and starts to give them an update about a potential group of recruits he's found and Dabi pretends to pay attention. Can't focus on anything but the cum drying against his skin.

///

Dabi feels even more off than he has for the past few weeks by the time he gets up the next morning and makes his way to Shigaraki's room. He barely knocks, Duster always seems to know where he is, and at this point, he's absolutely positive that the whole house is bugged in some way or another, and Shigaraki's door is always unlocked for him in the morning anyway. He steps inside and abruptly realizes that Shigaraki's room must also be soundproof because Tomura is on the phone. He's still in his pajamas, his plug isn't waiting for him on the bed or nightstand, Shigaraki sitting at the desk tapping away at a tablet that Dabi hasn't seen before.

"--press is extracting that information as we speak." Duster also has the box of quirk-erasing bullets on the table. "Once that's finished we'll be moving to a location closer to your main lab." Oh, talking to the monster maker. That's actually probably good news as far as their goals go. Means that they might be moving forward soon. Shigaraki glances up at him and waves him off. Never let any of them talk to the monster maker, clearly doesn't want him eavesdropping on this conversation. Dabi is more than happy to leave the room without the unwanted accessory. He starts back towards his room. None of the others are home this morning, as far as he's aware, and he might as well wait for Duster to finish his call before he starts on breakfast--

A recklessness surges through him. He gets dressed in his civilian clothes, doesn't dare try to grab his bag, doesn't take anything that would make it obvious that he's not coming back. If things are bugged then Shigaraki is likely to stop him if he sees even a trace of his intentions. He heads downstairs and writes a note, just says he's going to pick up a few things for later, even takes his phone with him. He'll ditch it on the street near the shop and hop a train. At least then if Duster can somehow track it, he might buy himself a little extra time. Dabi doesn't waste any more time and starts on his way. It's the first time he's been out of the house in... god, months?

He makes his way as swiftly as he can in the direction he wants to go, but it's not raining for the first time in days, and even overcast, people are all over the streets, trying to soak up the fresh air while they can get it. It makes moving slow going and frustrating. Not going to be able to just slink along the main streets, too risking with so many people out and about. Going to have to take side streets and back alleys. Wouldn't normally be a problem but that slows his progress to a crawl. He was always planning on hopping a train in the seedier part of town but this is torture. Takes him an hour just to get into the commercial district.

Really shouldn't be surprised that he's barely there when his phone chimes. Not surprising at all that it's Shigaraki's name that pops up with the alert.

Duster: I didn't give you permission to leave.

He takes a breath, tempted to ditch his phone right now and just sprint to the nearest train station. But Shigaraki didn't call him. Duster always calls them when he wants something. He doesn't like having anything written down in case one of them gets caught. Did he not call because he's already following him? Because Dabi would be able to tell he was moving and not in the house? Never seen Shigaraki text unless he was giving Kurogiri an extraction point--

The next text comes through with the name of the street he's on and Dabi's gut goes leaden. Should have known better. Duster never thought to lock him in the house, just told him to stay and he had because Dabi knew that getting away would be impossible. He takes a shaky breath and responds,

Dabi: I just wanted to pick up something special for tonight. It's just going to be us, isn't it, sir?

Keeps going without a response.

Dabi: I'm being careful, I promise I'll be home soon.

Duster: One hour, Dabi.

Doesn't make an overt threat over the phone, but Dabi knows that he's in for hell if he doesn't make it on time. Has only been punished for small things, flinching away from his touch, trying to push him away, talking back. He doesn't want to know what Tomura will do to him if he's not perfect.

His eyes scan the street a little franticly. Needs to find something to make his outing seem worth it, and he needs to do it quickly.

///

It's honestly a miracle that it starts raining as he exits the grocery store. It means that people start to tuck themselves back inside and he's able to run and it just looks like he's trying to keep his shopping from getting too wet on his way to his destination. The rain is probably the only thing that keeps him from being late as he slips back into the house fifty-five minutes after Tomura's warning. He lets his quirk vent through his skin, his tension over the past almost-hour high enough that as soon as he loosens his hold on it, the water starts to evaporate from his clothes. He moves to get out of his boots and pauses at the array of shoes his are joining.

"Dabi!" Toga's voice is bright from the living room.

"Don't track in mud," Spinner mocks him from the same direction. He catches his breath, stops steaming, and hangs up his jacket before making his way in their direction with his bags.

Sure enough, the rest of the League is there, Shigaraki included, all gathered around in the living room. Looks like someone brought back takeout for lunch. "Don't you all have jobs?" They weren't supposed to be here. His eyes flit to Duster's and Shigaraki is watching him, but doesn't say anything as he pivots and starts to head towards the kitchen.

"Circumstances ended up bringing us all home a bit early." Compress remarks.

"Aren't you happy to see us? Bah, he's never happy!"

"What'd you get?" Toga asks as she bounces over from the living room to the island as he puts the bags down. Immediately reaches for the black bag that's clearly not from the grocery store and he reaches out and smacks her hand away reflexively, a few harmless sparks leaping off the back of his hand.

"None of your business, leech."

She sticks out her tongue as she moves to the other side of the island and he pulls the bag away and puts it beside the fridge so she can't grab for it again as he starts to unpack the groceries.

"Sorry for not giving you more forewarning," Compress tells him more reasonably.

Dabi can feel Shigaraki watching him. Knows that the longer that he waits to talk to him, the more trouble he'll be in. God, he's not even wearing his plug. He's going to be in so much trouble-- "You should be," Keeps turned fully towards the fridge and does his very best to not let his voice shake at all as he continues, "You're interrupting date night." Things go so quiet that he can hear every raindrop pattering against the window and then--

"Date night?!"

"I told you! Shiggy's been smelling like love for months!"

"There's no way-- I totally saw this coming!"

He feels his face heat, chances glancing at Duster while the others are getting so animated. Tomura is watching him, looks a little surprised himself, and then, his eyes go soft and warm. Maybe he is in love with him. Maybe whatever this fucked up thing he'd pushed on him is the only way he knew how to act on that. Doesn't exactly think that All For One or Kurogiri were teaching him any kind of sane form of affection. No excuse for what he's done, what Dabi knows he's going to keep making him do, but it's going to happen either way. An easier-to-look-at veneer is more for his sake than anything else.

"You know it's been ages since we went to Giran's. What? We just saw him--" Spinner elbows Twice hard in his sternum to cut off his contradiction.

"You're right dude, we should go over for poker night since we're all free for once."

"Aw but--" Toga immediately whines, wanting to soak up any potential threads of romance like a sponge.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Jin why don't you give him a call?" Compress says pointedly.

It's genuinely astounding how fast the others clear out, at that. And Dabi's gut turns at how... excited they are. Toga is beaming, hugs him and Shigaraki, Spinner gives Shig a thumbs up when he thinks Dabi won't notice. Happy for them, they make that abundantly clear before they're all gone again, willing to get soaked and head two districts over to go see Giran just to give them their privacy. Fuck, that would be so sweet of them if this were real. They're all gone in a matter of minutes and Dabi finishes putting the groceries away, sure that he's in for a punishment, and just waiting for it.

He tries to keep his quirk from spiking his temperature with his panic when, as soon as it's quiet in the house again, Shigaraki is moving towards him with deliberate steps. Opens his mouth to apologize, to say anything as he turns to face him, anything to try and make what happens next not hurt as badly-- Dabi doesn't expect for Shigaraki to catch him around the waist and pull him in, pressing in for a kiss. He lets out a soft sound of surprise, but Shigaraki just takes that as an opportunity to lick deeply into his mouth, backing him against the edge of the counter and holding him there. Keeps kissing him like neither of them need to breathe. Until Dabi has his hands tangled in his hair and he's trying to gasp against his lips to just get a second of reprieve,

"Tomura,"

Duster kisses any other words out of his mouth. Keeps going until Dabi's dizzy and his body is a little too hot. Not sure if it's his quirk or not. Doesn't think Shigaraki has kissed him like this before. Dabi... isn't sure anyone has ever kissed him like this. Like they can't get enough of him, like the thought of a millimeter of space between them is unthinkable. When Shigaraki does finally pull away, Dabi is dazed and then gagged with his nerves when those red eyes are so warm and so close to him. Adoring.

"I'm so proud of you, firefly." Knuckles running gently over his cheek. "I was beginning to think that you would never be ready to tell the others. Should have known you would surprise me. You always do."

Doesn't even mention his leaving. Not even a whisper of threat in his tone that warns him of an oncoming punishment. Okay, that's good, okay. He can... play along. That's what he's been doing anyway, hasn't it? "Barely seen you all day, didn't want them to spoil tonight."

"Yeah?" Tomura's tone is slightly amused as he presses a kiss to his cheek and along his jaw. "And what do you have planned for tonight, firefly?"

Humiliation turns his gut into sour knots, but he makes himself mirror that sweet smile on the other man's face. "Can I surprise you? You've been," he tries to put whatever is left in him to protest away. He needs to stay alive long enough to fight his father, keeping the monster obsessed with him happy is the only way that's going to happen. And after that, it won't matter anymore. He just has to get there. Already planning on doing anything to make it. What's one more horror? "So good to me while I've been getting used to things. I want to show you how much I appreciate that."

If anyone else had ever kissed him the way that Tomura does after hearing him say that, then Dabi thinks he might have doubted the end he'd been planning for himself. Because Shigaraki kisses him like he believes every drop of his affection is real. That this is love instead of something brutal and twisted. Dabi pretends for a second too, is breathless again by the time he's released. "Alright, precious. Do you need me to help with anything?"

"No, sir. I just want to make things perfect for you, Tomura." Hesitates with bile in the back of his throat as his face heats with his shame. Duster sees his hesitation and waits, "You were busy this morning, will you," really thinks he's going to be sick but if he can avoid getting maimed--but he still can't bring himself to ask for the plug. "I want to be ready for after dinner."

The next kiss has a little more heat in it as Shigaraki starts to steer him towards the stairs, "Of course, pretty boy, always happy to fill up your needy hole."

"Thank you, sir." Hopes he mistakes the thinness in his voice for arousal as they start to move towards the stairs.

///

There's real work to do through the late afternoon, the others gave updates while they were here, the monster maker is interested in rekindling their working relationship. It's all good stuff for the League, movements towards their goals. But Dabi is only half paying attention. Is really using the bout of normalcy to meditate on everything that's going to happen as soon as they stop working. Feels like that time comes in minutes instead of hours, but eventually Dabi excuses himself to go get started on dinner. Shigaraki lets him go, eyes still way too affectionate as he does. He preps for the meal meticulously, making sure that everything is as perfect as he can get it, and loads the final dish into the oven to cook while he goes about tidying up the rest of the downstairs.

The others came and went like a tornado which means that by the time he's finished cleaning it actually looks like he did something. But all too soon he's finished with that. Usually leaves prep dishes for after they've finished eating, but he isn't even sure they're going to get to eating tonight, certainly doesn't think he'll be able to delay the inevitable by claiming he needs to deal with them, so he might as well just take care of it all now. When everything is spotless and the smell of dinner is starting to waft around the house he stops dragging his feet and goes upstairs to get changed.

The black bag wasn't from anywhere particularly scandalous, it's not like there was a fetish store right next to the grocer, but he did not know how he would explain the clothes he got from the modest boutique any more than the plug he's been wearing around. He thinks that he would almost rather pull his skin from his staples instead of slipping into the lace-edged navy panties and matching bra and the dress he'd managed to grab. It's probably a good thing that he's so thin and not too tall, or finding anything in the shop that would have fit him at all would have probably been an impossibility. As is, the A-line black cocktail dress probably wouldn't have fit his broader shoulders if he had picked anything with sleeves instead of straps, but the fabric is just thick enough to cover his bra and sit comfortably over his shoulders, trailing down into the fitted bodice and flared skirt. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to puke. Doesn't know how Shigaraki could look at him and see a housewife, but this will likely not dissuade him from the notion. Whatever. As long as he doesn't say anything about it in front of the others.

He forces himself to head back downstairs, giving a brief knock against Duster's door and calling, "Dinner should be ready in ten," before swiftly heading for the stairs. He puts his apron back on to keep his dress as tidy as everything else as he takes the chicken from the oven. Both it and the vegetables roasted alongside come out without any notable issues and he starts to plate things as he hears Tomura coming down the stairs. He is pulling the wine from the fridge when he comes into the room and doesn't force himself to acknowledge him a moment sooner than he has to.

Really not expecting to find he's not the only one who's dressed up as Shigaraki picks up the plates off of the counter, wearing black dress pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. Never seen him in anything besides his villain stuff and his sleepwear. Takes him a second of his brain trying to play catch up with how well this 'date night' excuse has gone to cover his escape attempt before he remembers,

"You don't need to do that, sir. I'll get them--"

"I know, precious, but your hands are already full. You've already done so much today, baby, come sit down." Pauses him to press a kiss to his cheek and Dabi picks up the wine glasses and follows him over to the table. Tomura pulls his chair out for him like he's a gentleman and not a monster. "You look beautiful, precious."

He hates himself for how his face heats and how the blush doesn't feel as unhappy and humiliated as it did before. "Thank you, sir."

Dinner is kind of a blur. He thought he would be playing the simpering housewife, and he is to a degree, but not as large of one as he thought. Shigaraki wants him docile and adoring, but he still wants him, and the conversation shifts easily from work to books he's been reading, to things the others have been getting up to, and all the like. It's calm. The food turned out well. Dabi forces himself to eat even though his stomach is still tight with his dread and finds himself wishing he could drink enough to numb what's going to happen when they're finished, but with how high his nerves are he's more likely just to burn off the alcohol and end up being hung over in half an hour.

When they're finished eating, Dabi expects to be pushed along upstairs to get on his knees or roll over for the other villain, but Shigaraki helps him clear the table instead. He lets Dabi pull on his gloves and apron and start to wash the dishes, and to his surprise, Duster starts to dry them and put them away, the conversation continuing from the table. And for a split second, he feels it, sees it. The domesticity that could have been real if it had been allowed to bloom naturally. But it doesn't last long. Already mostly washed up before dinner, so soon enough Duster is putting away the last plate and Dabi is reluctantly taking off his apron and gloves again. Not a surprise when Shigaraki moves closer then, catching him with four fingers around his waist and he makes himself tilt his head to accept the kiss immediately.

"Let's go upstairs, beautiful."

"Okay," not like he really has a choice about that.

Shigaraki laces most of their fingers together on one hand and he follows along up the stairs. Is in Duster's room all too soon, and that is a bit of a surprise. Unless he's putting in his plug, Shigaraki always fucks him in his room. Makes his sheets smell like sex that Dabi can't escape without doing laundry constantly, hasn't ever fucked him in his bed before. He shivers slightly when Duster's cool fingers catch the edge of his jaw. Still not used to the coolness of his skin, doesn't know if he ever will be. But he lets the other man kiss him, heat starting to build in it as he's pulled in even closer.

He makes his hands work, reaching to start to undo the buttons on Tomura's shirt as the kiss deepens. He has to do this, has to survive. What's one more horror? Dabi forces himself to pretend. At least Shigaraki always wants it to feel good for both of them. At least he doesn't think he needs to be scared about being torn open and left bleeding on the sheets. He makes himself stop thinking. Anyone's hands on him, gently pushing him back until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Someone else's shoulders he's pushing the fabric of their shirt over as he sinks onto the sheets. Doesn't work very well as he spreads his legs so that Duster can climb between them and it's a careful four-fingered touch that's just starting to push up the hem of his skirt.

"So beautiful in this, baby girl. Didn't know you wanted to get dressed up like this." Mouth moving across his jaw to find the sensitive parts of his neck and send heat spilling out alongside his humiliation in his veins.

"...I thought you would like it, sir."

"I do, princess." Voice dripping with his affection and arousal as he finds the zipper running down his back. Dabi blushes hotly as he arches up, pressing more of their bodies together so that he can catch it and start to tug it down. Hates how good the coolness of Shigaraki's body feels against his heated skin as he does. Pulls the zipper low and then starts to slip the straps from his shoulders as he kisses along the same path his hands are traveling. "Do you want to dress like this for me again, sweetheart?"

No. "Okay, but," his face is so hot as Duster pulls the bodice down his body and sees his bra. Red eyes darken and he can feel him hardening against his thigh. Mortifying how seeing that want, feeling it, is making his own start to spike nervously higher. "Just for you? I-- I don't want anyone else--"

Tomura catches his lips in another more demanding kiss, swallows up his breath and words before he has him kicking away his dress as he settles back between his legs. Can't help the startled moan that slips out into the kiss as his hands move across his body and tease at his nipple piercings through the fabric cupping his chest. "That's fine, precious, I know you're shy. Can just be something for us." Eyes dragging over him and lingering half hard and already straining the soft fabric of his panties. "I'll have to get you some more things to wear. Will hardly be able to keep my hands off of you knowing you're dressed so cute under your other clothes."

Lets that tangle up in equal parts arousal and misery as he realizes Tomura is going to keep him in panties as constantly as he keeps him full of his plug. But Sir is trying to make the arousal sit higher in his veins. Seems to want to work him up tonight and knows all of the places that he needs to touch to get that happening faster. Made worse by the constant press of the plug in him, and as his arousal grows, it makes his prostate more sensitive. Every little shift has it prodding against him more intensely and he can't help it when he squirms just wrong and it settles with a pressure firm enough to have a loud moan slipping from between his lips, his hips immediately jumping, wanting to get friction against his aching cock and back again against the plug. He whimpers when he feels how hard Tomura is too.

"Ready for more, baby?" Lips pressing sweetly against his as fingers trail lower, until he's stroking him through his panties. Dabi's insides tighten unhappily, but that just puts more pressure inside of him, makes his nerves tingle with more of the unwanted pleasure. But he knows what he's supposed to say,

"Please, sir?" Glad that Duster kisses him again, that he can pretend that he's just so needy for more that it's impatience that has a weak sob slipping from his lips as the sound of him undoing his belt is so loud in the quiet room. He doesn't have long before the last barrier between their skin is removed and he's trying to shift to get onto his hands and knees. Prefers that when Shigaraki does this. At least then he can hide his face against the pillows and sheets, can muffle some of his sobs, and save himself a little of the indignity he's being forced to endure.

But Shigaraki stops him today, makes him settle with his head against the pillows, and his legs spread wide for him. One hand comes up to stroke his thumb across his cheek. Smears away one of the thin trickles of blood that have managed to sneak out from his eyes. "Stay like this, darling, I want to see you." The other hand moves to catch the base of his plug and Dabi wants to hide, wants to turn his face away as he lets out another moan as it drags along his slick, twitching walls as it's pulled free. "Always blush the prettiest pink when we make love."

His whole body tenses before he can stop himself, his temperature spiking slightly with his distress. Doesn't know why that upsets him so much, already knew in the back of his mind that's what this was for Shigaraki. But hearing it makes a pain blossom inside of him that he doesn't know what to do with or even where it's come from. Hits him so hard that his distress is plain even through the delusion that Shigaraki has constructed for them apparently, because the next second he's pressing their foreheads together and shushing him gently.

"It's alright, baby boy. I know you're not there yet. I can wait for you to be ready, as long as you know how much I love you, firefly." Tomura, thankfully, doesn't make him respond. Just gives him more sweet, soft kisses as he starts to press inside. Dabi throws himself into the way his nerves all lit up at being so much fuller, anything to distract him from the agony alight in his chest that he hadn't expected when he'd been resigning himself to the horrors he knew would be coming for him tonight. It's easier for him to suffuse his body with the shame that his reluctant pleasure gives him as Tomura moves inside of him, as his lips and hands move over his body than to accept anything else that is happening in his chest or head now.

Tomura makes love to him, fucks him, uses him as a receptacle for his fantasies. Makes him fall apart again and again until he's barely conscious, and then pulls him close and keeps murmuring his affection against his hair and skin. It's a mercy when the blackness of sleep finally comes for him, even if that doesn't guarantee that Shigaraki won't use him again while his mind is quiet.

///

When he wakes next it's to light pressing in against the curtains, blankets angled around his naked skin, and his face tucked tight against Duster's chest. Clinging to the other man in his sleep. His distress and disgust swell because the hands petting along his back are so light, not holding him here. Dabi tries to disentangle himself without getting dusted and startles when he feels a weight around his wrist and hears the tinkling sound of metal on metal.

The suppression cuff is hooked around his left wrist when he pulls his hand into view. He tries automatically, stupidly, to bring his quirk to the surface of his skin, but it's like missing a step in the dark, leaves him fumbling and terrified. "Tomura?"

Immediately gets a kiss pressed to the crown of his head before Duster catches his chained hand and laces most of their fingers together. "Last night was wonderful, sweetheart, I loved my surprise. But I told you that you had to stay put. You still deliberately disobeyed me." Brings their entwined knuckles to his lips so he can press a kiss there too. "So from now on you're going to come to my room when it's time for bed, and we're going to sleep like this until I can trust you to be good again." Never going to let him sleep in his own bed again, he knows instinctively. Going to keep him as close as possible until he's his docile, perfect pet, or at least until Dabi acts like it.

"Yes, sir." His voice is barely his with how small it is. As far as punishments go, it could still be so much worse. Not like having a separate place to sleep ever protected him from Shigaraki in the first place. Doesn't put up any resistance when he catches his chin with two more fingers and tilts his head up to give him a kiss.

"Good boy. Are you ready to get up, sweetheart? Not sure when the others will be home, want to make sure you're all ready for the day."

///

They didn't need to rush, though Dabi was honestly more than happy to exchange the handcuff for the more familiar helplessness of his plug, because the others creep in around the mid-afternoon, poking their heads into the living room like they're afraid they're going to find them fucking on the island. Not that Shigaraki hasn't fucked him on the island before, but whatever. As soon as they see they're just sitting in the living room, finished with work stuff, and Dabi's just listening to one of his books while waiting for the laundry to finish as Duster taps away at one of his games, their trepidation quickly leaves and they pour into the room.

"How was--" Spinner cuffs Toga across the back of her head and parries the immediate retaliation of one of her knives to cut off her question.

"Welcome back," Duster says with some amusement. Dabi decides, for his sanity, he's going to ignore it all and pulls his headphones off of his ears.

"You guys eat yet?"

A round of negatives and he starts towards the kitchen. It's kind of a surprise that Compress follows him there as Toga definitely tries to get any details she can out of Shigaraki, and Twice and Spinner try to reign her in. At least Compress knows how to cook, and they start to make lunch in a mostly comfortable silence as the others grow more raucous in the room beyond. It's only when Twice has launched into a rambling story riddled with loud contradictions, that Mister catches his attention and speaks softly under the din.

"Thank you for everything you've been doing, Dabi."

He shrugs, "It's not a big deal, barely have anything to do while Duster has me on lockdown." Not expecting Compress to gently catch his elbow and he really hopes the leather of his gloves is thick enough that the older man doesn't feel his temperature spike with his fear.

"It's a bigger deal than I think you know, Dabi." Still careful and soft, speaking quietly enough to not draw attention from the others even as his eyes stray back towards the living room. "I don't know what your family situation was like," and god fucking damn it, does Compress just seem to be finding every sore spot to poke at right now. Though thankfully he doesn't keep touching his arm when Dabi pulls away. "But it's clear that the others have never had a home before. I don't think any of them are even capable of telling you how much it means that you've been going out of your way to care for them, and the house, and to treat them like family. This fight will be long, drawn-out, and brutal, and for as much conviction as Shigaraki has, we already know that all of us may not survive to see the end of it. You showing them what it's like to have a home may be the only time they ever get to experience it at all."

A lump swells in his throat. Toga snarking at Spinner. Twice is gesticulating wildly as he continues to tell his story to Shigaraki, his cheek resting against his knuckles and listening with a wry, amused affection that he never saw on him while they were in Kamino. A home. A family. Shigaraki raped me. The words are choking him. He could say them. He could turn to Compress right now and tell him, ask for help. Compress isn't like the others. He's older, more level-headed, definitely the most stable and mature. Compress would help if he thought he could. And Dabi would destroy the home the League has made here, found with each other. Sour every good memory they have in this house. Doesn't even want to think what Shigaraki will do in the wake of his delusion being broken. If he'll receive the brunt of his retaliation or if the League will. No. He swallows the lump, hides away the words. Locks them up deep inside where he's locked up his name. He's already going to burn one family to ashes. He's not going to do the same to the one he actually... likes.

"God you're way too melodramatic, Mister." His voice sounds more level than he'd expected it to. Finishes getting things swiftly enough and then calls to the others, "Yo, food's ready."

They make their way into the kitchen, still lively as ever, Spinner's got some new game for them to play after they actually debrief. They get their food with scattered thanks and Dabi waits until most of them are headed towards the table before he catches Duster's sleeve between two fingers to pull him to a stop. Only manages to take a shaky little breath before he closes the space between them for the first time. Tomura stills, thinks he might have actually surprised the other man again. But then he curls a hand around the back of his neck and turns it softer and deeper than Dabi would have on his own.

When he pulls back Dabi barely manages to breathe, "I love you." The words aren't for Shigaraki. Not now. Maybe someday he'll be able to pretend that they're real, pretend that he means them. But right now he says those words while looking at the monster who's taken more of him than he even thought he had left, and he whispers them for the friends who are whistling and mocking them from the other side of the room. He's only ever endured his suffering for hate before, and that left him half insane in his isolation before he found them. Maybe enduring this, knowing that they'll get to hold onto their happiness a little longer for each moment he does, will be easier with his love for them sitting in his chest and worn on the apron draped around his neck.

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iknityounot · 1 year ago

Text

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it.

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

#loose ends #the loose ends project #joy knits #text #long post #knit #knitting #crochet #crocheting #craft #crafting #diy #crochetblr #yarnblr #yarn #knitblr

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fushitoru · 1 month ago

Text

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #Gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo Satoru x you #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo Satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo Satoru #gojo

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brokenmenswhore · 6 months ago

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first | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, & sirius) x fem!reader

summary: virginity loss trope :)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language, gender swapped dorcas cus i said so 🤷🏻‍♀️

────── ☾ ──────

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, body halting as the staircase began to shift beneath you, “and completely untrue.”

“Oh come on, you never do anything interesting! For your sake, it has to be true,” Sirius teased.

You turned to him, mouth open in offense. “I’m plenty interesting.”

“But not interesting enough to lose your virginity to Meadowes in the library during fourth year?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“No! It didn’t happen!” you protested, “now please, let it go.”

“How would a rumor like that even get out if it isn’t true?” James asked genuinely.

“Probably because everyone knows Meadowes has the hots for her. Bet you he started it himself,” Remus answered, distaste evident in his voice.

“Are you three done now?” you asked, whispering the common room password and letting the boys in.

“So if it isn’t true, how did you lose it?” Sirius pressed.

You looked at him stunned, eyes wide in disbelief that he would ask you something like that out of the blue.

“Absolutely not,” you said, raising a finger toward him, “I’m not playing that game.”

“Oh come on!” Sirius raised his hands and smiled, “you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, now I’m curious,” James continued on, “if not Dorcas, who?”

You sighed, placing your books down and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, turning toward them exasperated. “Why does it matter?”

“You know seventeen of the girls I’ve slept with by heart,” Sirius replied, “I’d say it’s only fair.”

“Sirius, you told me about seventeen of the girls you’ve slept with. Willingly. Without me asking. Ever,” you said, earning a laugh from James at your disgust.

They followed you up the stairs to your dorm, empty from everyone sneaking off to a party in the Ravenclaw common room that you were supposed to be getting ready for, but alas, you were late and distracted.

You sat down in front of your vanity mirror, ready to start applying makeup, when Remus placed a hand on the desk in front of you, leaning his face in close to you, his hair falling slightly in front of his face. He was completely in your personal space.

“Come on, Y/N, tell us who got to fuck you first.”

Remus’ voice was low, and his breath fanned your face as he spoke. You locked eyes with him, a sigh leaving your chest that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You were nervous to have him this close.

“No one has. Sorry to disappoint. Now drop it, will you?”

Remus didn’t move. You continued to look up into his eyes, your voice a little shaky, and you didn’t know what to do. You moved to get up, but Remus caught your chin between his fingers, pulling your attention back to him. “Meaning what?”

“Did you not hear me? Cus you’re like 6 inches away from me, so if you didn’t, you need to get your hearing checked,” you said, annoyed at your current predicament, just wanting to make the embarrassing conversation end. Remus finally let you stand, but Sirius and James were right behind you, stopping you from leaving the room. You opted to sit on your bed.

“You guys are insufferable.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “So you’re-“ he trailed off.

“A virgin, yes, wow, how crazy of me. You know, it’s not that weird, you all just have a personal body count higher than everyone at this school combined. And everyone else’s body count includes you. Can we please just forget about this?” you begged.

“Such attitude,” James teased, “from such a good girl.”

“Oh, so I’m a goodie two-shoes now that you’ve all discovered I’ve never had sex?”

“Kinda, yeah,” James giggled.

“Fuck you guys,” you sighed, partially lighthearted and partially annoyed, “it was my choice. You think I couldn’t have screwed Dorcas Meadowes in the library if I wanted to?”

No one had a response. Sirius’ nostrils flared, and Remus sighed. They almost seemed… jealous? at the thought of you and someone else.

You four were ridiculously close, anyone could see that, and you would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in that way, but you were best friends, and you didn’t want to risk ruining that.

“You ever think about, like, just doing it?” Sirius asked.

“What?” you replied.

“Do you ever think about just saying fuck it and asking someone, like, I don’t know, one of us, to just take your virginity?”

Your breathing caught in your chest. You stared at Sirius, a million thoughts coming to your head but you couldn’t articulate any of them. You had no idea what to say.

“I mean, I’ve thought about losing my virginity, yeah, that’s normal,” you explained.

“To one of us?” Remus asked.

You could lie. You could act disgusted at the question and walk away now, or, you could tell the truth, and risk ruining your entire friendship. You could also tell the truth and potentially gain everything you wanted.

Your voice became small, your eyes watching your hands fidget in your lap, “maybe.”

The boys all exchanged a look between one another.

James was the only one who was able to pull himself together. “W-who?”

You titled your head up at him. “What?”

James sat down on the bed next to you. “Which one of us?”

You could physically see all the boys tense up, ready to be filled with either pride or jealousy. Sirius and Remus were staring daggers at you, anxiously awaiting your answer. James kept his eyes on you as well, trying to make you feel less intimidated and tense than Sirius and Remus were.

Your eyes darted between all of them, “I-“

You were evidently nervous, and Remus felt bad. He knelt on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his own. It was the most intimate gesture you’d received from him yet. He kept his voice soft. “Angel, you don’t have to tell us, but we really want to know. I promise none of us will be too hurt. Please,” he almost begged.

You sighed. You weren’t worried because you only thought about one of them, you were worried because you were embarrassed to tell them the truth. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “All of you.”

They were not prepared for that answer.

Remus and James stared at you and tried to process your words. Sirius was more of an “act on impulse” and “speak without thinking” kind of guy.

“Fuck off,” he said, “all of us?”

“Mhm.”

“Like at the same time?” he pushed.

“Sirius-“ Remus warned.

“No, no, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, attention back on you, “I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about losing your virginity to all three of us. At the same time. I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about us fucking you.” He was standing dangerously close to you now.

“I- I have,” you said, blush evident in your cheeks.

Sirius growled. “Remus, move.”

“Excuse me?” Remus snapped back.

“Move.”

Remus sighed and moved out of the way so that Sirius was standing directly in front of you. “You stop us if there’s anything you don’t like. Understood?”

You nodded your head, but that wasn’t enough.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you retried.

Sirius gave you a small smile before grabbing your face in his hands, tilting your head up and leaning down to give you a long, intimate kiss. Once you had settled in, he deepened the kiss, his carnal desires taking over. He slowly leaned you back on the bed, your legs still hanging off the mattress, as he placed one knee next to your waist, holding himself up as he continued kissing you. When your back hit the mattress, you held the back of Sirius’s head to keep him in place.

You felt one of the boys behind Sirius, pulling your pants off and leaving your lower half nearly exposed.

Sirius flopped down on the bed next to you, still kissing you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

James slowly kissed up your thigh, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders as he kissed your underwear right above your heat. You gasped, but Sirius didn’t let you break the kiss.

“Sirius, come on, give her a break,” James pleaded, “I wanna hear her.”

Sirius groaned into the kiss before breaking it, looking down to James in between your legs. “Well, go on then.”

Sirius was still feral and needy, pulling your shirt over your head and ripping off your bra, immediately going to grab and kiss at your breasts. You were embarrassed at the exposure, but everyone was moving on your body so fast that you didn’t have time to think about your body being on display.

James pushed your underwear to the side and kissed your folds, causing you to squeal. This was an unfamiliar feeling, but you were growing wetter and wetter by the minute. He pushed your folds open with his tongue, licking and flicking at your clit. You whined and threw your head back. He continued his actions, peeking up at you from between your legs, watching you come apart as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Take it easy,” you heard Remus say from behind your head, “you gotta remember she’s never done this.”

James moaned into your cunt as a response, sending a shiver up your body, causing your legs to shake slightly. He kept sucking and licking circles around your bud, and you couldn’t help but grab the hair at the back of his head, pushing him closer into you.

“Good girl,” Sirius cooed from beside you, touching every exposed part of your body that he could.

As James’ tongue quickened, your whines grew louder, but you tried to tame them and save yourself further embarrassment. Remus noticed and was not happy. He grabbed your face and forced your neck to look backward at him. “Are you holding back?”

“N-no,” you said anxiously, not sure if it was the truth.

“Ah, but I think you are,” he started, “and we don’t accept that. Let us hear you.”

“But I’m emb-“

“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed. Stop holding back. Now.”

Remus’s demanding and controlling demeanor only added at the pleasure James was giving you with his mouth. You did as he said. James continued to quicken his pace, whines and moans falling from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Remus asked.

“Yes, Rem, I-“

“No fair!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, “if you ask her all the questions, you get to hear her moan your name. Selfish prick.”

“Are you gonna let this be about her or what?” Remus retorted.

“I am! I should be asking you the same thing, why do you always get to be in control of everything?”

They bickered back and forth for a few minutes, but the entire time, James remained focused on you. He watched from between your legs as his tongue made you squirm and moan, and he had you nearly seeing stars.

You desperately tried to tell him you were going to come, but Remus and Sirius were too busy bickering for James to hear you. You tapped at his head to signal him, and he got the message, sucking at your bud until you finally came. Your chest rapidly rose and fell as James continued to lick you until he had tasted every last drop of cum from your hole, standing up and placing a wet kiss on your lips.

“What, did you just give up?” Sirius asked when he saw James standing.

“No, idiot, she came,” James replied, “you two dickheads were too busy arguing to notice.”

Remus’s nostrils flared. “You just let us keep arguing?”

“She tried to say something!” James defended you, and partly himself.

“Baby, you ok?” Remus checked in.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“You got a little more in you?”

“Mhm.”

“You want me?”

“Mhm.”

Remus pulled his pants and boxers down and climbed on top of you, pulling your underwear completely off of you as he placed his knees on either side of your waist.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting to confirm your consent.

“Yes,” you responded.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with it being me?”

Instead of responding with words, you tilted your head up and kissed Remus, assuring him that you wanted it to be him. You would have been okay with any of the boys, but Remus was always so in control, it made sense that he would be your first. Your relationship with him was always a little less silly, and a little more intimate, than your relationship with the other two.

“Are you ready?” he checked, lining up his already hard cock at your entrance.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just- please be nice, okay?”

Remus smiled, “of course, baby.”

You nodded at him and locked eyes as he slowly pushed into you, a long gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up. His cock was bigger than you thought it would be, and it was taking you a while to adjust to his size.

“Shit, Rem,” you breathed out, “you should have warned me that you’re that fucking big.”

Sirius growled next to you, your words driving him crazy. He couldn’t help but pull out his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched you.

Remus gave you plenty of time to adjust before you nodded at him, signaling that he could move. He started slowly, pushing in and out of you as an excruciatingly slow pace. It burned, and you almost told Remus to stop, but after a few minutes, the pain subsided, and the pleasure took over.

A particularly filthy moan left your lips, and Sirius cursed under his breath. James appeared behind your head, stroking your hair as Remus’s head dropped to your shoulder as he began to pick up the pace.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, “you feel so fucking good.”

“You look so fucking good,” Sirius breathed.

“Thank you, Siri,” you cried out, causing Sirius to cum in his hand, the nickname making him lose all control.

“What a good girl,” Remus spoke, his thrusts quickening until he was causing your body to jolt upward with each hit from the force, “you’re doing so well.”

James placed a kiss on your forehead and you reached up to grab his hand for leverage. You squeezed his hand, the pleasure between your legs becoming almost too much.

“Relax, baby, you’re being such a good girl,” James said.

Remus’ breathing quickened. “You’re so tight, angel, if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m not gonna last,” he warned.

“I c-can’t help it,” you told him.

“I know baby,” he replied.

“I d- don’t know how to m- make it stop,” you said.

Remus giggled, “you don’t have to make it stop. It feels good for me.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, “that’s good.”

Remus giggled again. You were so cute, even in the middle of losing your virginity. Remus leaned down and kissed you, your lips moving in harmony as he began to pound into you. Any sense of kindness and mercy he had for this being your first time went out the window when you kissed.

Your moans grew louder and louder, and you tried to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet yourself down.

“Ah ah ah,” Sirius tsked, pulling your hand away, “none of that.”

“Rem- Rem- I-“

“I know angel, let go.”

Your high crashed over you again, your hips bucking upward to meet Remus’ final few thrusts before he came inside of you, the feeling of you squeezing him becoming too much for him to hold on. Remus stayed inside of you for a moment, watching your face as you calmed down from your high, a slight shake in your legs.

“What a good girl,” James praised, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” Remus checked in, pulling out of you and standing in front of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “‘m okay.”

Sirius leaned down to kiss you again. “Everything you imagined?”

“Mhm.” You were too tired to formulate complete words or sentences.

“You wanna skip the party?” Sirius continued.

“Mhm.”

“You wanna cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Mhm.” You shifted so your head was resting on Sirius’ lap as he began to stroke your hair.

Sirius smiled. “And then maybe round two.”

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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

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જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, oral (f!receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, sneaking around, getting caught, forbidden, small age gap (both characters are adults), pervy!matt, brotherbsf!matt, innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 summary: your older brother is back in town for summer vacation, and he brings home his childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, who can't seem to keep his eyes off how much your body has changed since he's last seen you.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 this fic was requested/inspired by this ask! enjoy. (p.s. sorry i made matt so pervy in this. honestly idk what got into me. 🙈)

young god

You were in your room, listening to music, headphones in and volume on full blast while you sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through your playlist when some movement out of the corner of your left eye broke you out of your focus. You glanced up at your partially open door to see your older brother peeking through and tapping on the barrier to try to get your attention.

He was finally home for summer vacation from his second year of college. "Hey!" You jumped up, taking out your earbuds and throwing your arms around him in a big hug. "Hey, little sis. It's been a while," He greeted you, not having seen you since winter vacation earlier that year. Behind him was Matt Sturniolo, his childhood best friend who you hadn't seen in even longer.

"Hey, Matt," you said, your gaze traveling over towards your brother's best friend, who looked as attractive as ever. You'd always had an insatiable crush on him, and it didn't help that he had more facial hair, more tattoos, and a more chiseled jawline since the last time you'd seen each other.

He always hit like a drug, like a habit you couldn't kick, like a long-term addiction you couldn't shake. He flooded your system with cascading waves of dopamine whenever you looked at him and interacted with him. You craved him. However, you knew you couldn't ever pursue him.

Your brother had always warned you about him. "I know as you get older and start developing feelings for boys, you're gonna wanna start dating. But whoever you date, please don't date my friends, especially not Matt Sturniolo. I know he's my best friend, but the kid's bad news. He's only after one thing when it comes to girls, and he's off-limits to you," you recalled your brother saying to you.

After you'd started going through puberty, your brother had been hyperaware of the way your behavior suddenly changed towards his best friend. He'd started picking up on the way you'd been interacting differently with Matt, trying to get his attention more often and trying to find excuses to be in the same room as him, which terrified him.

You didn't know what he meant by that, only after one thing? You didn't know what that one thing was, but you secretly found yourself curious about it, and you wondered if it was something you could give to Matt. But you nodded at your brother, promising to stay away from Matt despite the way your stomach dropped when you looked at his friend.

"Hey, you're all grown up," Matt replied, bringing you back to the present. He subtly checked you out before pulling you into a hug, leaning down, hooking his arms around your waist, and picking you up. He let out a soft grunt as he lifted you into the air. He loved the way your body felt writhing against him as you giggled. "Put me down," you half-heartedly said, secretly loving the you felt in his arms.

Your brother shot him a look as he placed your feet back down on the hardwood floor beneath you. "I'm going off to college after the summer ends. Can you believe it?" You asked, swaying back and forth. "No, I can't. The boys at school are going to adore you," Matt said, nibbling on his lip and doing nothing to conceal the hungry look in his eye.

You didn't notice, but your protective older brother did.

"Hey, Matt and I are gonna go grab some dessert. He's gonna stay the night here. We'll be back," your brother said, wrapping up the conversation so he could go scold Matt in the car and remind him of the rules about hitting on his little sister. "Can I come?" You wondered, your eyes lighting up at a chance to be in Matt's presence once again. "I don't think that's a good idea," your brother started to say.

"Come on. Let her tag along so we can all catch up. I'll buy," Matt offered, looking back over at you with a smug smile. "Fine," your brother hesitantly said, leading the three of you out to the garage. You sat in the backseat in the middle and clicked your seltbelt closed.

On the way to get a sweet treat, Matt sat in the passenger seat with his head craned all the way around, his eyes lingering on your sweet treat between your thighs. You'd forgotten you were in a skirt and were innocently sitting with your legs splayed out while your pink panties peeked out from underneath the short fabric.

Your brother, who was focused on the road, was completely unaware of the show you were unknowingly putting on for Matt.

"So, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? You got a boyfriend now?" Matt lustfully cooed, not that he cared if you did, while studying the outline of your puffy lips through your underwear. He bit down on his lip while his cock jumped in his jeans at the sight.

Your brother glared over at him, recognizing the tone of voice he was using on you. The same he'd use when trying to take girls to bed. "No. All the boys my age are so immature. I don't want to be with any of them," you said, making a face. "Oh really?" Matt replied in a smug voice.

You guys had arrived at your destination, and after you guys had all ordered your desserts to go, Matt was handing his card over to the employee and giving you sly looks while he undressed you in his mind.

The three of you piled back into the car to head home. Matt watched intently as you swirled your tongue around on your strawberry ice cream, imagining you were lapping up something else. "Thank you for the dessert, Matt. It's so good," you said, letting out a soft moan while you savored the taste. You weren't trying to tease him, but you were driving him wild.

"Oh, a little is dripping onto the sides there," Matt pointed at the melted, pink liquid leaking down the waffle cone, and you licked a long stripe up the dessert, cleaning it off with your tongue. "Almost got it. Give it one more good lick," he urged you.

"That's it. Good girl. You got it," Matt purred, licking hot fudge off his spoon as you dragged your tongue up the length of your cone once more. His eyes flashed back to your panties, and he noted a small damp spot on the front of the pink cotton. Blood rushed to your cheeks as Matt watched you.

Your brother reached over and slugged Matt in the arm, almost making him drop his hot fudge sundae. "Hey!" Matt exclaimed. "Hey, why'd you do that?" You innocently asked, secretly enjoying the way Matt was watching you and talking to you. "Don't worry about it. Matt's just being a perv," your brother scoffed.

You realized where Matt's eyes kept traveling back to when he wasn't watching you clean off your cone. Suddenly, you became self-conscious, slamming your legs shut and going back to eating your ice cream in silence while you looked out the window.

It's not so much that you minded Matt viewing you that way. It's that your brother was picking up on it. You avoided eye contact with both of them, worried that they had noticed how much you liked when Matt had called you good girl.

No one said a word the rest of the awkward car ride home. Later that night, the boys went into your brother's room, which was only ever occupied when he was home from school, to play video games.

You desperately needed to take care of the aching feeling between your legs you'd been wrestling with since Matt had picked you up earlier when you'd hugged him. You reached into your pink panties and started slowly rubbing yourself while you pictured Matt.

On the other side of the wall, Matt and your brother were tapping away on their controllers in front of their game. Your brother was quietly berating Matt for the way he was looking at you and talking to you earlier while they waited for the next round to render.

"Dude, that's my sister. Please don't try anything."

"Relax. I'm just having a little fun making her blush. She's really cute when she gets all worked up," Matt smugly responded. "Gross. Don't talk about her like that. If you lay a finger on her, our friendship is over. I'm serious," your brother said in a somber tone. How about in her? Matt silently wondered, smirking to himself.

"Seriously, I'll kill you if she loses it to you," he told Matt sternly, insinuating you were a virgin. "She hasn't lost it yet?" Matt's gazed off into the distance as a perverted scene unfurled in his mind. "Gross. Forget I told you that. Just stay away from her," your brother said, eating his words after he remembered Matt had a thing for innocence corruption.

"Don't worry," he smirked, holding up both hands up in a defensive position, despite the thoughts going on behind his eyes about stuffing you for the first time. "I'm going to bed after this game. I feel sick after watching you with her today," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Matt brushed off his friend's comments. It's not that Matt didn't value his friendship with your brother and love him dearly. It's just that he was weak to his carnal desires, unable to say no to them and unable to turn down temptation when it was taunting him. Especially when it was forbidden fruit.

After they finished their final round, they shut off the light and Matt laid down on the floor next to your brother's bed with a blanket and a pillow. Your brother had fallen asleep and started softly snoring, and right as Matt began to drift off, a low hum woke him up.

At first he thought he was getting a call, but when he peered down at a black screen after picking up his phone, he realized the vibrating was coming from somewhere else entirely. It was low, unwavering, and seemed to be coming from the other side of the wall, in the direction of your bedroom.

Matt stealthily got up and slipped out the room. When he stepped into the hallway, he realized a dim light was pouring out of your room and into the hallway through a crack in your door you'd left open a bit on accident. Matt approached your room and peered in through the sliver of space between the door and the frame.

There you were, bathed in warm candlelight, laying on top of your blanket naked, legs spread, and steadying a vibrator on your clit. Matt smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered while you used your toy.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Matt's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

He poked his head into your room, pushing the door open, and he slowly invited himself inside, approaching you to get a better look at you. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake.

You were right on the verge of greatness, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Matt standing at the foot of your bed, staring down hungrily at your pussy. Immediately, you grew insecure about being watched, chasing away your orgasm.

"Matt!?" You said his name again, but this time in an aggravated whisper. "Poor thing. All alone in here. Why play with those toys when you could have the real thing?" Matt cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him while it was still buzzing, and when he rested it back onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax. Just here to help," he softly directed you. "Oh, Matt," you breathed out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip. You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought you must be dreaming. You let out a loud, satisfied sigh as he pushed it all the way in.

"You gotta be quiet, sweet thing. If your brother had any idea what I'm doing to you right now, he'd kill me."

You nodded at him and placed your palm over your mouth to muffle all the noise you couldn't keep yourself from making. "It's gotta be our little secret," he grinned at you as he added another finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around his digits while they started to stretch you out. He shut off your toy for a moment, setting it off to the side, and repositioning himself.

He lowered his head between your legs while he fingered you, and he started to work his mouth on your special place, rolling his soft tongue over your clit and manipulating your folds with it. He closed his lips down around your bundle of nerves and gently hummed against it, recreating the feeling of the vibrator, only much better.

You arched your back up off the bed and rolled your hips forward, chasing the sensation of his tongue exploring places no one ever had before. "Like that, princess?" He asked you in between licks. "I love it," you whispered back.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your legs started to tremble as he continued stimulating you with his mouth and his fingers. "Good girl. You got this," he cooed while you got close. His fingers curled so perfectly, hitting all the right spots while you kept your hand held tightly over your mouth, desperately trying to avoid waking anyone up.

"That's it, pretty thing. Cum all over my fingers," Matt purred sweet nothings from between your legs while he felt you starting to tighten around his fingers. "Relax. Let it happen. Give in to how good it feels," he talked you through it while you shook beneath him, experiencing your very first orgasm given to you by another person.

You let out a few soft whimpers that you couldn't keep to yourself while you steadily throbbed around Matt's fingers that had slowed to a stop once you'd finished. He licked them clean, and he complimented your flavor as he started pulling his cock out of his sweatpants.

You couldn't see much in the low candlelight, but it was intimidating-looking. You could see the veins that texturized his thick shaft, and you could make out how swollen the mushroom-shaped head was.

"You ever had one of these in here, sweetheart?" Matt cooed, giving you a devilish smile, and introducing his bulbous tip to your slick hole. You bit your lip and shook your head from side to side, confirming your innocence to him.

"Oh, poor thing. Let's fix that. You're way too cute to not be getting fucked," Matt groaned as he pushed it in. You squelched around his thick rod, and he shoved it all the way in until it filled you entirely, the base of his dick resting against your entrance.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting a pleasant spot deep inside of you. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference between his fingers and his cock, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. Can't believe this is your first dick," he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts. Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure.

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. He watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

"That's it. Take it like the good girl you are. I know you've been dreaming about this for years," he smirked at you, and you eagerly nodded in response. It was like a fantasy come true, losing your virginity to a forbidden man, your brother's best friend, while your brother slept soundly one room over.

The bed started gently rocking and making a soft rhythmic thump thump thump as the headboard made contact with the wall. But each of you were too caught up in how incredible the other person's body parts felt to care about the noises you were making.

Matt picked up your toy again, and after propping your right leg up onto his shoulder to get a deeper stroke, he turned on your vibrator once more and held it on your clit again, sending your eyes rolling back in your head and causing your jaw to fall open in sheer desire. You'd never experienced stimulation quite like this, and you didn't know how badly you craved it until now.

When your gaze shifted back to Matt, he was peering down at you with glossed over eyes and a pleasure-filled expression. You were both at the gates of heaven, about to immerse yourselves into a shared orgasm that neither one of you could fend off any longer.

"That's it. Be a good girl. Finish all over my forbidden cock," Matt whispered, all too aware of the dynamic that existed between you, mocking your brother's attempt to keep you two apart, that instead drove the two of you into each other's arms in a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

You both tensed up, Matt injecting you with his seed and filling you to the brim while you throbbed around him, milking him dry. You guys softly moaned in harmony, your bodies moving in unison. The sound of the bed thudding against the wall came to a stop, and the buzzing of your toy dropped off when Matt killed the power on it.

"Wow. Your pussy is so pretty pumped full of my cum," Matt whispered with an edge of thrill in his voice as he pulled his meat out of you and watched the way it leaked out of you while you continued clenching around negative space, recovering from the orgasm Matt had just given you.

He was still admiring the mess he made inside you that started to leak onto your sheets when a stern and infuriated voice boomed from behind him, sending chills down his spine and sending a sobering wave of fear through his system when he realized the two of you had been caught. It was your brother, watching from the door way.

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"I thought I fucking told you to stay away from her, Sturniolo."

part two here 🍨

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #Spotify

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smutoperator · 13 days ago

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Home Office Holidays

Park Jihyo, Kim Sejeong, Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

Tags: big tits at work, facefucking, foursome, grinding, home office, missionary poundings, piss, Samantha and Rachel, shower sex, squirting, (lots of) titfucking, tits, tits, a lot of tits

Word count: 5083

The end of the year was looming. You, as the boss of the Milk Factory, started to panic about the goals not being met, leading you to announce a drastic decision.

"We are going to work on the holiday season," you said.

Safe to say, the factory workers were very mad and decided to assemble to stop your plan. Guided by their leader, Ms. Park Jihyo, they vowed to make the holiday shift as difficult as possible for you.

."We are not letting him get away with it," Jihyo said, detailing the plan to the other girls. They were going to derail the holiday shift as soon as you woke up, using their most powerful weapons: their big boobs.

You were taking a shower, ready to go to the company to start the shift. As you were too distracted, a short woman with big tits took her clothes off and entered the shower box without you noticing.

Jihyo gave a little pat on your back, making you turn around. "WHAT THE FUCK?" you screamed, looking at your coworker completely naked in the shower, your hard morning wood already pointing in the direction of her big tits.

"Shhhhhh," Jihyo said. "Boss, I'm here to tell you we're not going to work on the holidays; you're going to work for us," she continues. "And what are you doing in my house wearing no clothes?" you ask. "I'm here to start your home office holiday shift," she replied.

Jihyo advanced in your direction and started kissing you, letting your big shaft rub her thighs while doing so. she slowly moved her hands on its direction and started stroking your cock really hard, before you dropped her on her knees. Jihyo quickly started using her mouth, doing a great work on your cock that soon made you groan, taking it deep in her throat and massaging your balls.

You always knew Jihyo was a tough girl to deal with and wanted to punish her for being so insubordinate, so you grabbed her hair and started fucking her face. But that's exactly what she wanted, loving the way you worked your cock hard in her mouth until she gagged.

Jihyo got back to sucking your cock hard, diving deep into your balls as her huge tits bounced a lot while she did masterful work on it. You tried to tame him with more facefucking, but it didn't take you long to move into her main asset. "Come here, you fucking bitch," you said, wrapping your cock between her massive boobs, which were built for titfucking. You grabbed her neck and soon slid your shaft up and down those massive honkers, enjoying each time your throbbing tip popped out of them.

"Yes, yes, fuck those big titties," Jihyo said, enjoying your cock massaging her udders. She knew for a long while you were very horny for them, always staring at her cleavage each time she arrived at the company. She loved how loud your cock was clapping against them, coming to suck it, only to get pinned against one of the shower's walls and facefucked again, much to her pleasure, and even better when you shoved your balls in her filthy mouth.

You decided it was time to punish this big tit bitch even further, grabbing Jihyo's neck and pinning her against the glass box. "Oh my God, fuck," she moaned as she felt your massive cock promptly sliding in her pussy. "Yes, please, fuck me, boss," Jihyo moaned as her tits now smashed the glass walls of the box and her pussy got plowed hard. You grabbed one of her huge udders, enjoying how they bounced with each deep thrust you gave in her pussy.

"Oh my God, yes, give me that cock," Jihyo moaned as she enjoyed her big tits bouncing hard like pinballs. "HOLY SHIT," she said as you choked her further, before taking her out and fucking her face as the shower water dropped all over her head. "Come taste that fucking cock, bitch," you said. "Oh yeah," Jihyo said, getting out of breath as you took it deeper and deeper in her throat, making her gag on it to the fullest. If it depended just on you, you'd kill this big tit bitch by cock asphyxiation, but little did you know there were more girls waiting to take a turn on this big dick.

"I see you're already choking on this dick, typical Jihyo," another girl appeared and said as she saw you fucking her best friend's face. It was Sejeong. "You are going to share this cock with me," an angry Sejeong said, taking her shirt off and displaying her pair of udders that were so famous they had names.

"Boss, meet Samantha and Rachel," Sejeong said, shoving her big boobs right in your face and joining Jihyo in the shower as she took her clothes off as well. "This looks so good; hope you don't mind I have a taste of it," Sejeong said as Jihyo handed your cock straight to her best friend's mouth. Sejeong could already taste Jihyo's pussy on it. Since it's been nearly a decade since they knew each other, they also know the taste of their holes to the fullest. "Such a horny girl already getting fucked by that big cock, typical Jihyo," Sejeong said as she finished sucking your cock for the first time.

"I see you enjoy choking on that cock," Jihyo said as it was Sejeong's turn to get her face plowed. She drove her friend's head against your shaft while she played with Samantha and Rachel. Noticing it, you picked up the shampoo and poured it all over Sejeong's tits, leading Jihyo to rub hers on her best friend's, you still fucking Sejeong's face while enjoying watching that big tit rubdown.

"Share that dick, worship it," you commanded as if you were their boss, as Jihyo and Sejeong kissed each other while grinding their mouths on your shaft. "Her tits are so heavy, you should fuck them too," Jihyo said as she praised Sejeong's udders as they took turns worshipping your big dick.

You turned your attention to Sejeong, fucking her boobs next as the shampoo covering them made it even easier for your cock to slide. Jihyo lined up behind you and cleaned your asshole with her naughty tongue. "Stay there," you said, grabbing your cock and pushing it in Jihyo's direction for her to taste her best friend's milky udders and hot mouth on it. Jihyo loved it and bobbed her head hard on it as you moved back to Sejeong for another round of titfucking while Jihyo kept rimming you before you suddenly came back to your senses.

"I can't do this; it's so morally wrong having sex with my coworkers at my house," you said, getting away from their grasp and leaving the shower. Jihyo and Sejeong chased you. "Come back, boss," they said, but as you arrived at your bedroom ready to get your clothes for work, another woman approached.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" you screamed as you saw a naked Eunbi already laying in your bed. "Well, boss, you told us we were going to work on the holidays, and we took issue with it," Eunbi said. Seeing your cock already throbbing, she quickly bent over and dove her head on it. "Hmmmm, I can already taste Jihyo and Sejeong on it," the big-tit mommy said. "Holy shit," you said as Eunbi stayed focused on your cock before Jihyo and Sejeong arrived. "He's not going to leave this bed anytime soon," Jihyo vowed as she was the next to dive on your cock, Sejeong soon joining them as well.

"Now we're working," Sejeong said as the girls started a triple blowjob on your shaft, the two 95 girls taking on your balls while Jihyo deepthroated your shaft, leaving Eunbi and Sejeong elated. "Girls, this dick is so amazing," Sejeong said as she took her turn sucking it while you started moving your hips and pushing it up her throat. Jihyo then sat on your face as the other two girls shared your cock. "Oh yeah, work that tongue in my pussy," she said, grinding it on your face and letting her big tits freely bounce. Sejeong soon sucked them as Eunbi stroked your cock.

"I think he was looking at our tits way too much at the office; now let's see if he can handle them," Sejeong said. Jihyo was the first to use hers, tilting her body forward as she bounced them sideways on your shaft. "Hmmm, he's already clinging to my pussy to cope with it," she said. "Look at how hard he's getting," Eunbi says as she grabs your shaft while Jihyo keeps using her boobs to fuck it.

"He's a naughty boy; the more I moved her tits, the more he ate my pussy; now I want to see both your titties bouncing on them," Jihyo said. Sejeong followed suit, trapping your shaft between her Samantha and Rachel and giving it a sexy massage. Eunbi followed suit, moving her massive boobs really fast on your cock, with you meeting her speed with fast thrusts up her udders while Jihyo licked her pussy. "So that's what big-tit asphyxiation looks like. Oh fuck," Eunbi says as you try to react and fuck her tits, but Sejeong steps in and grinds her pussy on your face.

Eunbi sucks your cock hard while Jihyo plays with her pussy and leads Sejeong. "Keep grinding on his face," she says to her longtime friend. "You started it all; wanna sit on that dick?" Eunbi asks Jihyo as she jerks your cock off. "Yes, I'll fucking sit on it," Jihyo says with a big smile on her face as Eunbi grabs your cock and leads it into her pussy. "Let me see it," Sejeong says as she goes back to watch Jihyo impale herself on your cock.

Sejeong and Eunbi massage Jihyo's clit as she starts bouncing on your cock. "Oh yeah, that cock is so good in my pussy; let me grind on it," she says as she spins on your cock. Eunbi sits on your face, and as soon as she does, you pump Jihyo's pussy hard from down low. "Oh, bad boy wants to fuck that pussy hard; give it to me," Jihyo says under Sejeong's watchful eye. Jihyo opens her legs and lets you freely pound her cunt, while Sejeong massages your balls and then jerks it off. "Oh, I love the way you jerk it off in my pussy; it's so fucking sexy," Jihyo says as she resumes bouncing on it.

Eunbi returns and massages Jihyo's clit while also sucking her tits. "Keep fingering; it feels so good," Jihyo tells her while Sejeong comes on the other side to suck her melons too. "GIVE IT TO ME, FUCK ME HARDER," Jihyo rises her voice and commands to you as you keep pushing up and down her pussy. You push Jihyo's mommy body in your direction and pump her in a pearly gates position while Eunbi and Sejeong entertain themselves with her big tits. "OH MY GOD, GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME," Jihyo begs. "Fucking give it to her," Eunbi commands.

You indeed decide it's time to amp things up a bit, pushing Jihyo's body into the bed as you grab it and fuck her in missionary with her legs fully up. "Give it to her, come on," Eunbi continues to push.

"YES, FUCK," Jihyo screams as you wrap her legs and pound her at full speed. Eunbi and Sejeong just watch. It seems like you really hate this big-tit bitch, fucking her like your life depended on it. "HARDER," Jihyo commands as her legs get pressed against your big tits and you push your whole weight against her body. "Cum all over his fucking cock," Eunbi orders while Sejeong licks her best friend's feet. You choke Jihyo and then hit her face, but shortly after you kiss her. Sometimes you hate that bitch, but in the end, you can't deny how sexy she is.

As you pull out of Jihyo's pussy, you, Eunbi, and Sejeong team up to eat it. "Holy shit," Jihyo exclaims as all three tongues pass around her fuckholes. "Holy fuck, that's so fucking fast," she says as you three spit on her holes, Eunbi paying special attention and massaging her clit while you eat her ass and Sejeong licks her folds. "Oh yeah, put that tongue deep in my ass," Jihyo says.

You pump Jihyo a few more times, massaging her jiggling tits in the process and hitting her a few more times until she cums. "Let's taste that dick," Eunbi says as soon as you're done, feeding it to Sejeong while jerking it off. But Eunbi is another hungry slut, as it takes just a little spitting from Sejeong for her to feel comfortable taking her turn sitting on your cock.

Eunbi's pussy gets pumped hard from the start, while Jihyo and Sejeong line up behind her and take turns massaging your balls and licking Eunbi's asshole, respectively. "I want to taste that fucking pussy out of that cock; give it to me," Jihyo says as you keep pounding Eunbi while Sejeong jerks your shaft off.

Sejeong pops your cock out of Eunbi's pussy, feeding it right into Jihyo's needy mouth, who bobs her head on it like a maniac as soon as she gets the chance to taste Eunbi's pussy on it. "Put it back on," Sejeong says, quickly ending her friend's fun as Eunbi wants more poundings in her pussy. "So fucking sexy watching her get fucked like that," Jihyo says as she bends to eat Eunbi's asshole. Sejeong follows, and the two kiss each other. "Hmmm, she's got a very dirty ass," Sejeong tells Jihyo.

"AHHHH FUCK," Eunbi screams as you fuck her harder than ever, sucking your tits like a baby as well while her body tilts in your direction. Jihyo and Sejeong give her some relief as they stop your pounding to suck your cock a little bit, but that doesn't last long, as Eunbi's mommy cunt just keeps getting obliterated, and Jihyo keeps going wild, moving toward Eunbi's big tits and sucking them herself. "FUCKKKK," Eunbi says as Jihyo now motorboats her tits and your cock keeps pushing. "Fuck her deeper," Jihyo whispers in your ear, and you oblige.

Eunbi decides to grind on your cock, making Jihyo and Sejeong get very excited as they help her and massage her ass. "Grind on it, bitch; take it, take it, take it," Jihyo orders as Eunbi spins all over your cock. "That's a good girl," Sejeong says as she pats Eunbi's ass.

It's time for Eunbi to receive the same treatment you gave Jihyo, as you push her into the same position as the Twice leader minutes ago. "Her tits are so fucking beautiful, don't you agree?" Jihyo asks Sejeong. "Oh definitely, we should name them later like I did to mine," she answers.

"Keep worshipping those beautiful tits," you command Jihyo and Sejeong, who suck Eunbi's melons while you fuck her. "Ahhh yeah, I love it," Eunbi says as she's overwhelmed by all three of you turning your attention to her. "Let's make her squirt," you say, reaching your hands into her clit and massaging it, Jihyo quickly moving to taste the juices Eunbi bursts out while Sejeong now has both of Eunbi's boobs all to herself.

"Get on top of her," you tell Sejeong, as you line your cock up to fuck her from behind. Eunbi loves it as she gets to grab Sejeong's famous Samantha and Rachel, which jiggle quite hard as you fuck her pussy. You and Jihyo lick Sejeong's neck while Eunbi stays at the bottom of the pile enjoying Sejeong's huge tits.

But Sejeong is a naughty mommy and wants to bounce on your cock as well, telling you to lay on the bed as she starts moving up and down your shaft. Jihyo immediately follows her and sucks her tits. Meanwhile, Eunbi stays in her position but brings her pussy closer to your crotch and starts rubbing it on your balls while Sejeong sits on your dick.

Sejeong is a really fast rider, loving having her Samantha and Rachel bounce freely and hit Jihyo's mouth. Eunbi rubs her clit down low, her juices slowly covering the bottom of your cock. Jihyo decides to rub Sejeong's clit as well, and soon she and Eunbi are locked into a squirting battle. "Oh my God, yeah, rub my pussy, make it cum all over that fucking cock," Sejeong says as she bounces at bed-breaking speed, Jihyo following her moves. Eunbi masturbates herself harder to match Sejeong's crazy ride, while Jihyo, now switching sides and helping Eunbi, gushes out more squirt from her pussy as she massages it. But Sejeong is determined to win this battle, unleashing her maximum bounce prowess, turning Samantha and Rachel into a pair of pinballs until she squirts so hard it catches both Jihyo and Eunbi by surprise.

"I'M GONNA CUM," Sejeong announces as she squirts so hard her juices land all the way into Eunbi's tits. As Sejeong starts to orgasm, you push your cock faster and deeper in her pussy. Jihyo comes in and licks her best friend's pussy. "Oh yeah, lick me like that, so good, so good," Sejeong says. Jihyo kisses and sucks Rachel before getting back to Sejeong's pussy, licking it like crazy and ready to taste her juices at any second.

As Sejeong squirts all over your cock, you use her juices to quickly slide back inside Eunbi. "Let's make her cum next," you say, opening her legs while Jihyo and Sejeong massage her tits. In a matter of seconds, Eunbi also releases her juices, as Jihyo now seizes the opportunity to bounce on your cock again. Sejeong and Eunbi push Jihyo's body up and down your cock and spank her ass. "Take that dick," both girls say. "More, more, more, bounce, bitch," you say. Jihyo does it like that, riding your cock while Eunbi rubs her asshole. "Yes, yes, yes, massage my ass," Jihyo tells her. "Look how deep he's going inside her," Sejeong says as she joins Eunbi. Jihyo turns into a messy scream machine. "AHHHHHH, FUCKKKKK," is all she can say now, turned into your personal cocksleeve and Eunbi and Sejeong's spanking bitch.

"Let's taste it," Sejeong tells Eunbi, both putting an end to Jihyo's fun. "OHHHH YEAHHHH," Jihyo is still screaming even with your cock out of her pussy. Sejeong and Eunbi taste your cock together, the former I.O.I girl taking your balls while the former Iz*one leader sucks the tip. Both bring their tits together for a double titfucking session while a needy Jihyo begs for more. "Please, I want it back in my pussy," she says.

"You want it, then there it is," Eunbi says, releasing your cock from the grasp of her tits for Jihyo to ride once again. Both her and Sejeong grab Jihyo's ass as the Twice girl squats on your dick and massages your balls. "All the way, grind on that cock," Sejeong tells her. Jihyo does it until she cums, with Eunbi quickly taking her place on the top of your cock for a pearly gates pounding. "Let's suck those big tiddies," Sejeong says to Jihyo as you fuck Eunbi hard and massage her clit while Jihyo and Sejeong suck on mother Eunbi's tits like they were her daughters.

"FUCKKKK," Eunbi moans as your cock and the girls's mouths overwhelm her; the way her tits bounce is a thing of beauty, especially when her hardened nipples make contact with the naughty tongues of Jihyo and Sejeong, who now press Eunbi's tits against each other as if they were playing a game with them.

"Come on, girls, you better suck this dick again if you want to be free for the holidays," you tell them. Jihyo quickly jumps on your cock as she's in desperate need of a vacation. "Yeah, let's share this cock," she says, then handing your shaft to Sejeong as the two kiss each other while licking your tip together and Eunbi licks your balls down low. "Oh my God," is all you can say with three girls fighting hard for your big cock.

"Stroke it, stroke it," you ask them as they jerk your cock off. Jihyo moves up and down your cock, letting Sejeong and Eunbi handle the jerkoff. All three girls are so strong and muscular that you fear your cock is going to snap in half with the way they jerk it so fast. "You really thought you could handle three of us?" Sejeong asks, bragging. No, you couldn't.

"I bet you didn't think you'd be working from home like this," Sejeong continues to say as Jihyo now is in your balls and Eunbi massages your prick. "Put it between your big tits," you tell them. The girls get very excited as soon as they hear those words. Jihyo quickly hits the inner side of her boobs on your shaft before letting Sejeong use her Samantha and Rachel to fuck and squeeze your cock while Eunbi spits on it to help with the grip and grabs the bottom of the shaft.

"Suck it, suck it," Sejeong tells Jihyo as she dives her head to taste your cock between Samantha and Rachel. "You want more?" Sejeong asks as Jihyo takes her place, moving her tits sideways before bouncing her body up and down really fast in a very aggressive tit-fucking and cock-sucking. Eunbi is next. "Oh my God, her tits are so fucking huge," an impressed Sejeong says. This time, you squeeze her eunbigs and fuck them yourself, pushing up and down her massive melons, Eunbi diving down to deepthroat your cock while you do it. "Ohhh, that's good; I think you deserve to sit on my dick again for this," you tell her.

Eunbi quickly follows it, and you go back to thrusting up and down her pussy. "Oh, that big dick looks so perfect inside me," she says while Jihyo and Sejeong watch and suck her tits and rub her clit. "Bounce, bounce," you order Eunbi, who starts grinding sideways before squatting on your dick. "Like that, like that," you approve of her. "Oh, I just love those big tits hitting my face," Jihyo says as Eunbi's bouncy boobs hit her, and she enjoys it.

"Your turn, Sejeong," Jihyo says. "Yes, give me your cock right there," Sejeong says and starts bouncing in her frenetic way. "OH, OH, SHIT, FUCK," you groan as Sejeong hits your cock very fast, Jihyo sucking Samantha and Eunbi massaging Rachel as they move up and down really hard. Sejeong keeps moving aggressively. "I'm so fucking wet," she says. "Rub her pussy," you tell the girls, Eunbi rising up to the task as Sejeong slowly loses her breath. "Nice and deep, nice and deep," she commands.

Sejeong moans as Eunbi massages her clit really hard, her legs trembling as she closes them and lets you pound her pussy while Jihyo and Eunbi suck Samantha and Rachel. "AHHHhhh FUCKKKK," an out-of-breath Sejeong still manages to scream. "Keep going, keep going," Jihyo and Eunbi tell you as their tongues get entertained with Samantha and Rachel while Sejeong cums all over your cock. "FUCKKKKK," the Gugudan girl screams as she squirts again.

"I think it's my time," Jihyo says as she cleans Sejeong's juices from your cock. "Come here," you tell Jihyo as Eunbi also fights for your attention and gets on all fours. "You want to stack?" Jihyo asks. "Nah, let's do something different: eat her cunt while I fuck you, bitch," you say to Jihyo, shoving Eunbi's ass in her face and then spreading her legs to fuck her. "AHHHHH FUCKKKK," Jihyo screams like a whore as you love it. "Yes, scream all over that pussy," you say to her as you relentlessly pound Jihyo's pussy while Eunbi grinds her ass in her face.

"YEAH, YEAH, FUCK, GIVE IT TO ME," Jihyo says as you. Fuck her while thumbing Eunbi's asshole, the former Iz*one member now leaning to eat Sejeong's pussy on the other side of the bed while resting her body on Jihyo's. "Oh my God, those big tits are right in my face," Jihyo says as Eunbi's boobs hit her forehead.

Jihyo is pounded hard as her body gets suffocated between yours and Eunbi's, who enjoys savoring Sejeong's pussy. You decided to savor Jihyo's yourself, all the while Eunbi sits on Jihyo's face, and she and Sejeong start scissoring each other and dumping their pussy juices on Jihyo's.

"I want to watch your pretty face while you cum," Eunbi says as she locks Jihyo's face between her legs. Despite her very tanned skin, Jihyo's face is now fully red as she's completely suffocated, Eunbi's clit right in her neck as the former Iz*one girl keeps squirting on her face while you keep pounding Jihyo. "AHHHHH, YEAHHHH, FUCKKKK, SHITTTT," Jihyo screams as she cums. "Good girl, that's so fucking hot," Eunbi says. You come to Jihyo's direction and suffocate her further, shoving your cock in her mouth with Sejeong's help for her to taste her own juices.

Jihyo coughs on your cock and then eats Eunbi's pussy while massaging her tits, enjoying more juices in her face while Sejeong bobs her head on your cock for another round. "Oh shit," you groan, already close to cumming but still holding it. But before that, you put Eunbi's face down and her ass up, fucking her pussy under the watch of a wasted Jihyo. "OH MY GOD," Eunbi moans as you pump her pussy like crazy. "Oh yeah, hit it deep in my fucking pussy like that," Eunbi says.

"Stick it all the way down in her pussy," Jihyo says. "That's so fucking hot," Sejeong completes as both enjoy Eunbi getting pounded and lubricate your cock with their spit while also licking Eunbi's butthole. Jihyo is a mad girl, almost as if she's looking for revenge on Eunbi to suffocate her moments ago. Eunbi closes her eyes and opens her moaning mouth, getting close to cumming again as Jihyo and Sejeong keep licking her fuckholes. "AHHHH, FUCK," she moans.

You get on top of Eunbi as Jihyo slides her face just below you to lick your asshole and balls. "Oh my God," Eunbi moans as she feels you pumping her even harder while your ass rubs all over Jihyo's slutty face. "OH GOD," Eunbi moans as she's also very close to getting wasted.

"On your knees, bring your pretty face," you orient Jihyo. "Come here, bring your fucking pussy," you say to Eunbi. You dig your fingers inside Eunbi's cunt, and Jihyo already knows what's coming. "Yes, please, that's what I fucking want: make her fucking squirt all over my face," she begs as your hands get deeper and deeper in Eunbi's pussy. "AHHHHHH," Eunbi screams as she starts to squirt. "I fucking love that," Jihyo says, licking Eunbi's squirting pussy.

"Stay there; there is more coming," you say to Jihyo as Eunbi kneels and turns around, squirting all over Jihyo. "OH MY GODDDD," Eunbi screams as her cunt gets juiced, with Jihyo tasting it and rubbing some of it in her boobs.

As both girls play with each other and Eunbi keeps squirting on Jihyo's face, you turn your attention to Sejeong for a grand finale, mounting her in a prone bone position and pressing her Samantha and Rachel against the bedsheets. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," the Gugugan girl moans. You then switch to the same position you fucked Jihyo and Eunbi before, giving Sejeong the rough missionary legs-pressed-on-tits treatment.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sejeong screams as she gets drilled hard; on the other side of the bed, Jihyo licks Eunbi's pussy; soon, you're pile-driving Sejeong, her big tits hitting her face at each thrust you give her. Jihyo chills in and massages and sucks Samantha; Eunbi takes Rachel as you spread Sejeong's legs and destroy her pussy. "I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM," she says as she squirts on your cock.

Jihyo licks the juices of her best friend as you lay back in the bed. "Come here, make me cum," you order the girls. Sejeong tastes herself and jerks your cock off as Jihyo dives into your balls. "Give us that fucking cum; that's what we want," Eunbi says.

"Let's milk that cock with our milkers," Jihyo suggests. Soon, your cock disappears under three pairs of big tits, all of them squeezing it hard as they rub against each other and move up and down your shaft. "Oh, oh, oh, oh," you start groaning, sensing that you're going to burst at any second. Ditto. Your cock explodes all over the mommy milkers of Jihyo, Sejeong, and Eunbi, covering them with your white milk for each girl to lick and taste.

"That's so much cum, I think we need to head back to the shower," Jihyo says. Eunbi and Sejeong follow her while you stay on your bed, trying to process what just happened as the girls laugh and taste your cum from their big boobs. "That was quite a workout," Eunbi says.

The girls head to the shower, rubbing their big tits against each other. As you watch them pour shampoo all over their boobs, you give them one final condition.

"I'll give you three a holiday vacation, but first I need to do one more thing to those sexy bodies," you tell them.

"What?" Jihyo says.

"This," you answer as your cock starts peeing all over Jihyo's tits. Sejeong and Eunbi also receive a hot dose of piss to clean their big tits. Soon, you move your cock upwards and feed their throats with the golden liquid. Lucky for them, you have enough in the tank to pee for a whole minute, meaning each girl gets a healthy load of piss in their mouths.

"That was so hot," Jihyo says as she gargles the piss and swallows. "I think more girls are going to want some of that home office. boss, would you mind if you worked again tomorrow?" Eunbi asks.

"Who else?" you ask.

"How about my other friend? She also got some big tits," Sejeong says, showing you a picture of Somi.

"Ohhh, bring her here tomorrow."

#jihyo smut #sejeong smut #kwon eunbi smut #twice smut #izone smut #gugudan smut #ioi smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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lipringlrh · 9 months ago

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HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER.

lando ending | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

The music was too loud but Lando was so close that he didn’t need to alter his volume - he was talking at the perfect volume that only you could hear him. Each sentence was getting lower, deeper and quieter, but your own mind made him louder, filling up every space in it with replays of him. He was engrossing. He was all you could think about.

He almost dropped the cup in his hand as he took the final step closer, not that the cup would've mattered to him, his only concern would’ve been making sure you stay dry. Still, your throat turned dry at the little distance between you both; at the prospect of what was surely about to happen.

His free hand drifted to your jaw, holding it so delicately and manoeuvring your face gently to face up at him at the perfect angle for him to kiss you. When it was just right, and he could no longer remove his eyes from your lips, not even for a second, his hand moved to the back of your head, holding you in place.

He leaned down, oozing out confidence despite the absolute fear inside of him, and rested his forehead against yours. You had closed your eyes, expecting him to kiss you, but you opened them again when you realised he wasn’t, pulling away only slightly due to the hand on your head preventing it further.

“Lan,” you breathed, your tone showing everything that you weren’t saying, “What are you waiting for?”

His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily like resisting kissing you was the hardest thing that he’d ever done in his life. “I’m just making sure you want this,” he paused, opening his eyes and flicking them between your eyes and your lips, “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” you responded instantly, your desperation being evident from miles away. He held back a chuckle and instead revelled in the fact that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “Please, Lan.”

“So polite,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. He titled your head again, bringing you impossibly closer. You could feel his shirt against your chest and his breathing on your face - there was no going back and you both knew it.

He was going to kiss you, he was leaning down, too slowly for your liking but it was happening and so you weren’t complaining. You felt a ghost touch against your lips - the slightest feeling - but it was there before being harshly ripped away in an instant.

“Mate! I��m going now, congrats on the podium,” Carlos said after walking up to Lando from behind, a hand on his back, the other one shaking his hand.

“Congrats on your win, more like it,” Lando replied, a half smile on his face, trying to be as genuine as possible and not show his annoyance that his moment was ruined.

Carlos looked towards you, about to share a goodbye with you, before noticing your dazed look and shifting between you and Lando as he noticed what was happening. “Shit- sorry, man- carry on, I’ll see you later, yeah?” he said, not letting either of you reply before wandering off, towards the door.

You both stood there frozen for a while, not speaking or moving, just staring into each other's eyes, begging the other for an answer.

Quickly, Lando had given up and stood up straight, looking into his cup and swirling what was left around. “I’m getting another drink, do you want anything?”

“No,” you said, barely audible and no longer looking at him or in his general direction. If you hadn’t shook your head as you spoke, he wouldn’t have known what you said and he really didn’t want to get into an awkward cycle of asking you to repeat yourself a few times before he finally heard you.

“I’ll find you,” was all he said as he left. You watched him as he cut through the crowds to the bar and ordered a drink and a shot, downing the shot the second that he got it.

He turned around and scanned the room, briefly meeting your eyes. You could tell he was debating whether to come back or not but you didn’t know what he decided as he began to stand up, so you made the decision for him and walked away to the side of the club, hopefully weaving through the tides of people enough that it would take a while for him to find you.

You ended up in one of the back corners of the club, pushing yourself into the wall so that people could squeeze past you and so you could people watch better. You were busying yourself giving strangers names and storylines, trying to distract yourself from whatever just happened, or could’ve happened, when you almost threw yourself to the floor in shock from a sudden hand waving in front of your face.

“Don’t jump - I was just trying to get your attention. I called your name a few times,” Alex said. You turned to look at him, slouching right next to you against the wall.

“Sorry, loud music,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, the music was loud, but you could barely hear it over your thoughts whirring anyway. You watched Alex grimace and shake his head, somehow knowing it wasn’t the music distracting you.

“I saw,” he hummed as you took in a sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t-”

“You kissed him, finally, then what happened? Why are you all alone?” he questioned, his eyes scanning the place for Lando, knowing he’s not usually the type to leave you alone in places like this. He could tell you were upset and confused, and he needed to get to the bottom of it in order to work out whether he’d need to drive his car into Lando’s during the next race or not.

“No- he almost kissed me. Again. Carlos interrupted and he left. He left, Alex. Asked if I wanted a drink and left,” you spat, a mixture of uncertainty and anger clouding your voice. Why did he leave? He started it and left knowing exactly what was happening whilst leaving you with nothing - it was unfair.

Alex sighed. He wasn’t happy with Lando but knew what he felt for you and ultimately wanted to give him the chance to tell you without any mistakes.

“Maybe talk to him about it. He might just be unsure of where you’d like it to go-”

“He called the shots, Alex, he does it whenever he’s drunk, I don’t think he gets to be the confused one,” you sighed, looking at your feet. Alex paused and tried to think of another way to give Lando another chance to tell you how he feels without ruining it.

“Maybe talk to him when he’s sober. He’ll-”

“He doesn’t want me when he’s sober,” you whispered but wanted to scream. It hurt you to say it but you felt like it was true. Alex felt his breath hitch and his heart ache to scream at you that Lando does want you.

“That’s not right. Who wouldn’t want you?” he could see how it was affecting you and wanted nothing more than to make you feel better, but his train of thought was abandoned when he saw your body recoil into the wall in disgust.

He followed your eyeline to find Lando towards the middle of the room, kissing some girl that you had never seen before. He was leaning into her as if he’d die if he let go, and his hand was on the same place on the back of her head as it was on yours.

“Oh,” Alex said, not really knowing what else he could do. He was furious and wanted to mortify Lando in front of everyone in the room.

“Yeah, oh,” you repeated sarcastically. Your knees felt weak and your eyes were on the brink of bursting - it was impossible to hide if you tried. “I’m going to go home,” was all you could get out, your voice choking on every word.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren’t upset and rather you were disgusted but you couldn’t after the image of Lando sucking some other girl's face was plastered in your mind and you shed tears the whole way home. Lando didn’t know - in your mind he didn’t even care but as you were crying to Alex and Lily in an uber, he was looking for you everywhere. But as it hit him, the guilt and weight of what he’d done, and the realisation that you must’ve seen, he prayed that you’d let him explain, like he did every time this happened, whilst you would tell yourself, again, that you meant it this time; that he was too late.

lando ending | logan ending

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rowarn · 1 year ago

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PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed.

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off.

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself. Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of.

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in.

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting.

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously.

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator.

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that.

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now.

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it.

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone.

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation.

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out.

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed.

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that.

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders.

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom.

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent.

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape.

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed.

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14.

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine.

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered.

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well.

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual.

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver.

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called.

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious.

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that.

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away.

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around.

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them.

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving.

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned.

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet.

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar.

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together.

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky.

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself.

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better.

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching.

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication.

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit.

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself.

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall.

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate.

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore.

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready.

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life.

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not.

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar.

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar.

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread.

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with.

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you.

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work.

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted.

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly.

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be.

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell.

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell.

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name.

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them.

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray.

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes.

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation.

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads.

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong.

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face.

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face.

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state.

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them.

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply.

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious.

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker.

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone.

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open.

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again.

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out.

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one.

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it.

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon.

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table.

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door.

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath.

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time.

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back.

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling.

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you.

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips.

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap.

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table.

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street.

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots.

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep.

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated.

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad.

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands.

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off?

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.”

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself.

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known.

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave.

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response.

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained.

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom.

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements.

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly.

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance.

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young.

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother.

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked.

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that.

You never brought it up again.

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since.

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen.

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup.

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat.

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands.

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself.

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light.

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work.

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?”

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon.

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms.

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him.

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor.

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch.

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen.

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond.

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved.

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking.

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things.

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big.

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built.

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue.

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred.

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back.

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing.

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them.

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken.

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut.

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up.

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought.

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk.

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it.

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly.

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you.

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan.

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place.

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes.

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that.

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him.

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed.

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day.

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass.

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry.

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all.

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you.

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder.

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much.

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever.

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse.

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger.

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there.

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you.

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life.

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately.

You wish that he loved you.

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep.

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you.

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight.

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you.

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him.

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry.

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts.

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it.

Then you do it again. And again. And again.

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek.

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise.

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness.

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room.

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing.

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping.

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave.

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him.

God, you hate him.

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway.

He wanders further into the room before pausing.

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you.

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy.

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like.

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red.

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you.

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious.

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him.

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now.

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable.

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too.

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room.

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself.

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck.

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that.

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door.

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it.

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit.

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares.

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you.

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him.

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls.

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you.

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise.

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness.

You cry all the time. Day and night.

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him.

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid.

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on.

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome.

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore.

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month.

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear.

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to.

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope.

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar.

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is.

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back.

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it.

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.”

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking.

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself.

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in.

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel.

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day.

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold.

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time.

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left.

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet.

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself.

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope.

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep.

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do.

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake.

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever.

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it.

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open.

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else.

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway.

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat.

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room.

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him.

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was.

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go.

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed.

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go.

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds.

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach.

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap.

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed.

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it.

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat.

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged.

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done.

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen.

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well.

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls.

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone.

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread.

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over.

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even.

His words ring out through your head like a bell.

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash.

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts.

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again.

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time.

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away.

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now.

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on.

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.”

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it.

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is.

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees.

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly.

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes.

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you.

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself.

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place.

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more.

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response.

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again.

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air.

You love him, you really do.

But you’re still so angry at him.

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly.

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?”

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto.

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?”

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated, sad and utterly confused.

You wished he would stop leaving.

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait.

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has.

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep.

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague.

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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vunblr · 2 months ago

Text

The Weight of Choices

Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex, dirty talk. A little angst.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

Word Count: About 8.9k.

He was late. If Y/n didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose. Bucky had agreed to watch their son tonight so she could go on a date, the third one since their divorce two years ago. The last couple of times, she’d managed to find a friend to babysit, but Saturday nights were always tough. So in the end, she had no choice but to come clean and ask Bucky.

She could still hear his voice from that awkward phone call, his tone edged with surprise when she’d told him she had plans.

“A date?” he repeated, the edge of disbelief was hard to miss.

"Yeah," she’d replied casually, but Bucky’s silence lingered longer than usual. He hated texting, so phone calls had become their norm, even for the smallest of things.

“With who?” His attempt to sound nonchalant fell flat, the tension was evident, threading through every word.

“Chris,” she said, keeping her tone light, “You know, the music teacher at the kindergarten where I work? Blonde, easy smile... we walked past him once when he was out with his dog, Dodger.”

Bucky scoffed, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it. I knew he had a thing for you.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, please.”

“Every time I’d drop by the kindergarten, he’d just… linger. His eyes followed you the whole time like he couldn’t look away. People don’t stare like that unless they’re thinking something. And the way he’d smile, all soft and attentive, he was trying too hard to be just a ‘friendly co-worker.” His voice had dropped a notch, as his irritation crept in.

“Are you serious?” she shot back, incredulous. But Bucky wasn’t done.

“How long’s this been going on?” The question came out more like an accusation.

“It’s our first date. You know I only recently started dating again,” she replied, her patience wearing thin.

He paused, clearly unsatisfied. “So what, he’s just been waiting for his chance, ready to pounce-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, James,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re not entitled to know anything about my love life the moment you decided you wanted the divorce.”

There was an uncomfortable silence on the line. She could hear him breathing, and the tension stretched between them, until finally, he sighed.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll take care of Benjamin on Saturday night.”

The recall of the conversation was interrupted by Ben, who wanted to show her what he did with his Legos.

Bucky had been sitting in front of the house for half an hour now. Sometimes, like tonight, he regretted what he’d done, but deep down, he knew it had been necessary. After the terrifying incident when Hydra agents attempted to kidnap their son, hoping to test if any of the serum’s powers had been passed down genetically, he realized that his past would eventually catch up with them. He had to make sure they were safe, even if it meant tearing apart everything they’d built.

He knew she wouldn’t understand if he told her the truth. If he had laid out his fears and his guilt and spiraled into a self-deprecating parade like he always did, she would have fought him and convinced him to stay. So he waited.

He knew the only way to make her believe it, was to weave in just enough truth to his argument, so, slowly he began pulling away, setting the stage for what would be his ultimate break. Late nights, distant conversations, an almost non-existent sexual life and missed moments with their son, all led to this. He needed her to see that the life they had wasn’t something he could carry anymore.

When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He told her he felt suffocated by their life together. That the roles of husband and father were more than he could bear after everything he had been through. She didn’t believe him at first, and he could see the determination in her eyes, the will to fight for what they had.

So, he played the card he knew would make her stop fighting him. He spoke of the years he’d spent as a puppet, how he had never truly known freedom, never had control over his life. He appreciated everything she had done for him, all the love and support she had given, but it wasn’t enough. He needed air, space to figure out who he was beyond the roles he had been forced into. He made it sound like staying with her, staying in the family they’d built, was just another form of captivity.

It crushed her. Bucky could see the moment her resistance faded. She believed him, not because she wanted to, but because he made it seem so real. So she stood there, heartbroken, but unable to argue against the logic he’d presented.

The first months after the divorce were hard on both parts. For her, that time was the hardest, filled with sleepless nights and the nagging feeling that Bucky had simply abandoned her, walked away from their life, their love, without a second thought. She wrestled with the confusion and the heartbreak, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. For Bucky, it was a different kind of suffering. He bore the weight of his decision in silence, knowing he had walked away to protect them, but that didn’t ease the sting of loneliness or the guilt that clawed at him.

Their lives moved on separately. They saw each other only in passing, and even that was rare. Bucky would pick up Benjamin directly from daycare once a week, dropping him off the next morning before heading back to his life, careful to avoid lingering long enough for awkward conversations. Sometimes he didn’t make it at all, missing his time with his son when missions pulled him away. Immersing himself in his work was easier than facing what he had left behind, the family he still wanted but couldn’t allow himself to have. Meanwhile, she did her best to create some normalcy for Benjamin, even as the space Bucky left behind echoed through their small home.

Even though their lives had drifted apart, Bucky never truly let go. He kept his distance, but never far enough to lose sight of them. Unbeknownst to her, he knew everything that went on in the household, the daily rhythms of their life, the way she struggled and adapted to her new normal without him. From the shadows, Bucky lurked unnoticed in the neighborhood, always keeping an eye on them. She never noticed, never had a clue that even when he was away on missions, he somehow knew when Benjamin caught a cold or when she had a rough day at work.

It was a secret vigil that gave him a twisted sense of comfort, knowing they were safe even if they no longer shared the same home. He would catch fleeting glimpses of her tucking their son into bed or hear his faint laughter playing in the yard. It was enough to remind him of what he’d lost, but not enough to bring him back to the life he believed he couldn’t have.

That was why Bucky was caught off guard when she mentioned her date with that guy, the music teacher. He never saw that coming. He had always known the man had a soft spot for her, could see it in the way he acted whenever she was around, how he lingered a little longer during pick-ups at the kindergarten, helping to manage the children even if it wasn’t his job, always with an excuse to retain her and talk. His body language was an open book. But back then, Bucky had dismissed him as harmless, barely giving him a second thought. To him, Chris had always been like a friendly Labrador: approachable, with no bite. A non-threat.

But now, that harmless Labrador had grown fangs. The guy wasn’t just hanging around the edges anymore; he was stepping in, taking her to dinner, moving into a space Bucky had once occupied. And he had no choice but to suck it up and watch it happen, watch her walk out the door with him. He could handle the distance, the brief moments of tension when they had to interact, but this? The idea of Chris sitting across from her at a candlelit table, making her laugh, holding her gaze... it twisted his guts.

And God knows what else would happen after dinner. Would Chris try to kiss her goodnight? Would she let him? Or worse, would they end up back at his place? His mind ran wild with the possibility of them taking things further, crossing a line he never wanted to imagine. Would she let him touch her in ways Bucky used to, let him see sides of her only he had known? He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from torturing him.

Eventually, he glanced at the clock and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was no point in torturing himself any further, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

Reaching the front porch, Bucky hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture adjusting his clothes, then knocked on the door. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the tension.

When the door finally swung open, for a split second, neither of them spoke. Her eyes widened just a little, her lips parting as she took him in. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. His hair had grown back to shoulder length, a few strands falling loose across his forehead. A three-day stubble sharpened his jawline, in a way that made him look rugged and effortlessly handsome. And was he wearing that shirt? The red and black lumberjack one that used to drive her wild?

Bucky caught her reaction and hit him like a shot of adrenaline. When he exited the bathroom that night and picked what to wear, he told himself it was just practical, something comfortable to wear while watching and playing with Ben. The cologne? Just a habit. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth: he wanted her to notice, and that split-second when her eyes widened, scanning him from head to toe, told him everything. She noticed. She definitely noticed. And something about that felt like a victory, even though he wasn’t supposed to be playing that game anymore.

He stared at her longer than necessary, his blue gaze drifting over the black dress she wore. New, he realized. It hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The hemline? Too short for his liking. He clenched his jaw slightly, knowing full well Chris would be thrilled to see her like this.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, Bucky cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, low and calm, though the tension still simmered beneath the surface. “You look... good.” He meant it, but the words tasted bitter.

"Thanks," she said, politely but distant, deliberately choosing not to compliment him back. She lingered for a moment, then added, “You’re late.”

Bucky flinched inwardly at the remark, though he kept his expression neutral. "Traffic," he muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside to let him in. An awkward silence settled between them, the air thick with things left unsaid.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her dress as she cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence. “Ben is in the bathroom,” she said, casually, but there was a tension beneath it. “You can wait for him in the living room.”

“Right,” Bucky replied, nodding stiffly. He walked past her and into the living room, the space feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time. He took a seat, trying to shake off the strange energy between them, but his mind kept wandering back to the fact that she was dressed for someone else.

A moment later, the doorbell rang, and she turned toward the sound, visibly relieved. She opened the door, and Bucky heard Chris’s voice, a cheerful greeting that she surely responded to with a soft, warm smile. Bucky didn’t need to see it, her tone was different with him, softer, more open.

“Hey,” Chris said with bright tone, though there was a subtle shift when he paused. There was a beat of silence before he added, “You look amazing.”

Bucky couldn’t help it. Something pulled him from the couch, and before he knew it, he was standing in the hall, watching the interaction from a few feet away. His eyes narrowed as he observed Chris, sizing him up instinctively. Chris was taller than he remembered, clean-cut in a casual but neat button-down shirt, his easy smile faltering just a fraction when his eyes darted past her, catching sight of Bucky standing there.

Chris’s brows furrowed, but he quickly masked his reaction, giving Bucky a curt nod. “Uh, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, glancing between them.

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him. Bucky stood at the edge of the hallway, staring directly at Chris, his expression unreadable. His eyes locked onto the man without blinking. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just staring.

Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Really? A display of male dominance, here and now? After everything he’d put her through, the mess he’d made of their lives, he suddenly decided he had the right to act territorial? What exactly did he think he was entitled to? The nerve of it sent a wave of irritation through her, tightening her grip on her coat.

But what frustrated her even more -what really troubled her- was that a part of her didn’t mind. Beneath her annoyance, something stirred, deep and undeniable, lurking just beneath the surface. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his presence still had a hold on her. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to believe. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a part of her that reacted to him, to the way he watched her, the way he used to make her feel like the center of his world.

Before those feelings could rise any further, before she could let herself dwell on what they meant, she quickly turned back to Chris. She forced a bright smile, pushing away the conflicted thoughts swirling in her mind.

“We should get going,” she said, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging in the air. She stepped closer to Chris, signaling it was time to leave, hoping to put some distance between her and the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky stood frozen in place for a moment, the tension that had gripped him not easing, even with their absence. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, pressing down on him. His chest tightened as he stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to walk back in. Of course, she didn’t.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene in his head: her standing there, beautiful and confident, and Chris… that guy was so normal, so easygoing. Exactly what she deserved. Exactly what Bucky could never be. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. What was he even doing? He had no right, he was the one who walked away. He was the one who made her believe she wasn’t enough to keep him, that he wanted out. And now, here he was, silently raging because she was moving on, exactly like he supposedly wanted.

Stupid. That was the only word he could come up with to describe how he felt. Stupid for showing up looking the way he did, stupid for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could still affect her. But what for? His job was to protect her and their son from the shadows, not to stand in the doorway, playing the part of some jealous lover. But God, it hurt more than he expected.

He crossed the living room, his steps heavy against the floor, and slumped into the couch. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV in the background. Ben was still in the bathroom, probably playing with the liquid soap and making a mess, unaware of the tangled web of emotions his father was caught in.

The hours slipped by, though Bucky barely noticed at first. Benjamin was beyond excited to have his dad all to himself for the evening. They played, joked, and built elaborate lego fortresses, the boy’s laughter filling the house with a warmth Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. For a little while, he was able to shove everything else to the back of his mind. Being a dad, just a dad, felt like a relief. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to the clock on the wall. He couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to stay in the moment with his son, there was a lingering pull, a constant, nagging thought of where she was.

After he’d put Ben to bed, Bucky’s mind wandered back to the date. The image of her in that black dress haunted him, the way Chris had looked at her, the possibility of what might have happened after dinner. His thoughts spiraled, even though he knew it was none of his business anymore. He poured himself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he tried -and failed- to push the thoughts aside.

Eventually, the sound of the front door opening cut through the quiet. The familiar click of her shoes against the entryway tile echoed through the house, sharp and distinct. She was home.

Bucky didn’t move. He stayed where he was, seated at the old teakwood table, nursing his scotch. The only light on in the house was the dim glow above the kitchen, so she’d find him.

The sound of her footsteps grew closer, and he listened intently, his heart beating just a little faster despite his best efforts to keep calm.

She entered the kitchen, her steps a little less steady than usual, mumbling a soft “Hi” as she made her way inside. Bucky glanced up, immediately sensing that she was a little tipsy. She didn’t meet his eyes, just plopped down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” she muttered, kicking off her heels and wincing.

For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the fridge. She sighed absentmindedly, then reached for his glass of scotch, taking a sip without asking. He was taken aback by the casual intimacy of the gesture, but he said nothing, just watched her as she leaned back in her chair.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Want me to rub your feet?” He froze. He couldn’t believe he’d said it, half-expecting her to snap at him or give him one of her sharp retorts.

But instead, she surprised him. She looked over at him, her eyes tired but soft, and then shrugged. “Yeah...” she said, a little more relaxed than he expected.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by her response. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he moved toward her, kneeling down in front of her chair. His fingers hovered hesitantly over her ankle before gently wrapping around it, lifting her foot onto his knee.

As he began to knead his thumbs into her sore muscles, the tension that had been brewing in him all night seemed to ease, just a little. Her head lolled back against the chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, touching her again in this way, after everything. He shouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relax more as the seconds passed, letting her guard down in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

“So... how was the date?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost too casual as he broke the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might brush him off or remind him that it wasn’t his business. But instead, she gave a small shrug, her tone indifferent. “It was fine.”

Bucky frowned slightly, pressing his thumbs a little harder into the arch of her foot. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else pushing his hands. “Fine?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice even.

“Yeah,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost distracted. “Just... fine.”

He wasn’t satisfied with that. He couldn’t help himself, he pressed, his tone still light but with a thread of tension beneath it. “Only... fine?”

She sighed, her eyes still closed as if trying to keep the conversation from getting deeper. “What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a subtle edge in her words. “That it was amazing? That he swept me off my feet? Some dirty little details?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled for a moment, resting against her foot as he met her gaze. He didn’t respond right away, unsure if he even wanted to hear the truth, whatever it might be. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended.

“It was just fine, nothing more, nothing less”

A silence settled between them, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Are you going to see each other again outside work?” he ventured, his hands slowly moving up her shin, his touch hesitant but growing bolder. The fact that she didn’t push him away emboldened him further. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Bucky’s hands continued their slow ascent, fingers brushing over her calf and then her knee, his touch firm but careful. When she didn’t pull away, he felt his pulse quicken. The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of things unsaid.

“In a way,” she finally answered, her voice elusive, a touch distant. She shifted slightly in her chair, subtly parting her thighs as his hands wandered higher. The movement was small, but enough for him to catch it. His breath hitched, and his gaze flicked down to her legs before rising back up to her face, darkening with lust.

"Care to... elaborate?" he pressed again, his voice lower now, rougher. His fingers slid up to her inner thigh, lingering there with a possessive grip as if testing her reaction. Her legs instinctively spread wider beneath his touch, and that simple motion sent a rush of heat through him.

She shifted slightly, as if searching for the right words. "He’s... nice," she finally said, a bit breathless under his touch. "He’s thoughtful, considerate, makes me laugh…” Her lips twitched in a small smile, but it quickly faded as she looked down at his hand resting on her thigh. “He’s... good.”

Bucky’s thumb paused, pressing a little harder, as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “…And?”

She sighed, her eyes opening again to meet his intense gaze. “And… he’s not you.”

His grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat. He’d pushed her away, done everything he could to sever the ties between them, convinced himself it was for her protection. But now, hearing her admit that, it sent his head spinning.

“He’s not you.”

The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as the tension between them crackled like electricity. His hand inched higher, dangerously close to where he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to take what he wanted, to forget everything that had led them to this point. But he forced himself to stop, his gaze locking onto hers, searching her face for any sign that she would tell him to stop.

She didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, her breathing shallow as if waiting to see what he would do next.

Bucky’s grip tightened again. Fuck it. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her other inner thigh, his stubble grazing her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply, a growl rumbling in his chest. She tensed, feeling him nip gently at her sensitive flesh, and then a slow, deliberate lick followed, sending a shiver through her.

"Did he behave, or..." he paused, his tongue teasing the same spot before he looked up at her, his lips brushing her thigh as he continued, "...things got handsy?"

A gasp escaped her when she felt his mouth so dangerously close to where she wanted it most. Her head tilted back just slightly, her body betraying her as desire pooled in her belly. His eyes flicked up, meeting hers, their blue depths darkened with lust, and something more. His lips remained pressed against her skin, refusing to budge until he had his answer.

"You let him touch you?" His voice was a husky whisper, laced with jealousy.

She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky as the memory flickered through her mind. "Yes," she admitted, her voice low, reluctant. "But just briefly, when we ki—"

Before she could finish, Bucky’s hand shifted, moving up to cup her mound, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her words died in her throat, a sharp intake of breath replacing them as his touch ignited a fire that spread through her veins. His hand was deliberate, unapologetic in the way it claimed her, the heel of his palm pressing against her pussy as if he had every right to be there.

"And then?" His question hung in the air, but she couldn’t find the words immediately.

Her lips parted as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to feel something... but I didn’t. I just didn’t."

Her confession landed between them like a spark to dry wood, setting the tension ablaze. Bucky’s hand remained where it was, but his thumb stroked over the wet fabric, teasing her, testing her resolve as his gaze bore into hers. She had said what he needed to hear, what he craved to know, and now, there was no turning back.

Bucky’s thumb slid the fabric of her underwear aside, his fingers unhesitating as they slipped between her folds, finding her slick with need. He brushed upward, just barely grazing her clit, watching with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as she gasped at the contact. Her body arched involuntarily, but he didn’t relent, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, teasing her just enough to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she craved.

“And…” he murmured, rasping against the tension rising between them, “how long did it take you to realize you’d had enough? That it wasn’t going to work?”

His thumb circled lazily, making her hips shift forward, chasing the friction he barely offered. The question hung in the air, laced with his possessiveness, through every word. He didn’t wait for an answer, his fingers delving deeper inside her, coating themselves in her arousal before they moved back up, brushing over her clit again, this time with more pressure.

"One kiss?" His lips curled in a half-smirk as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He dipped his fingers inside her again, slow, dragging them out just as leisurely. "Two?"

She trembled, unable to form a coherent response, the sensation of his touch overwhelming her senses after so long. Her breath hitched as his fingers increased their pace, every stroke purposeful, designed to unravel her. Bucky leaned upward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “How long, doll?” The way he said it, like a dare, made her heart race even faster.

Her head fell back, her body betraying any attempt at control as she whispered breathlessly, “One…”

A satisfied growl rumbled from him, his fingers rewarding her honesty with a firmer stroke, sending her spiraling closer to the edge.

It wasn’t fair. He had cast her aside, almost without looking back, tearing her world apart with his cold departure. And now here she was, grinding her pussy against his fingers like some desperate, needy whore, begging for more. A part of her wanted to slap him, to shove him away and scream at him for every sleepless night she spent wondering why she wasn’t enough, why he had thrown their life away so easily. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him for walking out on them.

But then, there was that traitorous side of her. The part that had never stopped hoping. The part that had always waited, held out some foolish, silent hope that he’d come back. That she’d see that flicker of warmth in his eyes again, the one that told her she was his entire world. And it wasn’t just her heart that longed for him, her body had missed him, too. She hated herself for it. For still thinking about him late at night when she touched herself, fingers slipping between her thighs as his name slipped from her lips in the darkness.

And that same traitorous side of her had ruined her date with Chris. She’d tried to be present, to laugh, to be charmed by his warm smile and thoughtful gestures. But all night, all she could think about was Bucky.

The way he’d looked at him, cold and assessing, as if he didn’t belong there, his presence filling the hallway like he still had some claim to it, to her. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he was still the man of the house?

She hated how, even while Chris was talking, her mind drifted back to the feeling of Bucky’s fingers tracing his stupid shirt, her memory filling in the rough, familiar feel of his hands on her skin. And she knew, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud, that some part of her had wanted him to see her dressed up, to feel in some small way the longing and ache she’d carried in his absence.

And maybe that’s why she’d felt nothing when Chris had leaned in for a kiss, why his gentle smile and soft touches had felt hollow. Even his laugh, light and kind, hadn’t stirred her because it wasn't Bucky’s rough, rumbling chuckle or his stupidly confident grin. Bucky, in all his infuriating ways, still occupied every corner of her mind.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers worked her closer to the edge. She wanted to be angry, to let that rage consume her, but every time she opened her mouth to say something hurtful, to lash out at him, her body betrayed her. Every roll of her hips against his hand, every needy whimper that slipped from her throat, reminded her of just how much she had missed this.

It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t stop.

With a light pinch on her swollen clit, the tension snapped, and she came hard on his fingers. Her mouth fell open, a moan escaping as her body convulsed, riding the wave of pleasure that coursed through her. The world blurred around her as her climax took over, her hips grinding against his hand, chasing every last second of the release.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mix of the overwhelming pleasure and the emotional storm swirling inside her. A few finally escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks, but before she could turn away, Bucky was there, his lips brushing them away with surprising tenderness. His breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered soft, comforting words she could barely make out, something about how beautiful she was, how good she had been for him, as if they hadn’t been tangled up in all this pain and heartache.

His touch was almost reverent as he slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening from her release. Their gazes met, and he didn’t break eye contact as he brought those same fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, agonizing slowness. He stood up in one fluid motion, effortlessly lifting her from the chair by the waist as if she weighed nothing, and in a swift, controlled movement, he placed her on top of the table, positioning himself between her legs.

Before she could even process it, his arms were around her, pulling her into a bear hug that was both tight and needy. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he inhaled deeply, taking her in.

He held her as if letting go was not an option, his grip firm yet strangely vulnerable. The way he clung to her felt like both a claim and an apology, urgent -almost broken- like he was holding onto her not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, against her neck. He didn’t dare look at her, not yet, because if he did, if he saw doubt or rejection in her eyes, it would break him.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Each second felt like an eternity. His breath was uneven, ragged, as he waited for her to say something, anything. Another moment passed, tension coiling tighter in his chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers, bracing himself for the worst. But instead of the words that would send him away, he saw her eyes flicker downward to his lips. It was brief, a split-second decision, but it was enough.

So he leaned in, cautiously at first, like he was testing the waters after years of distance. His lips brushed against hers softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid this fragile moment would break apart. But the second she responded, it was like a dam broke. His hands cradled her face, deepening the kiss with desperation. It was messy, all-consuming, there was no gentleness, no tenderness. This was not the careful, delicate dance of two people testing the waters. This was hunger, a ravenous need to reclaim what had been lost. His lips moved down to her jaw, her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, and she moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked on the sensitive skin below her ear.

His hands gripped her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. The need to feel her, to claim her, was overwhelming. It was like two years of silence, longing, and frustration had ignited in an instant, everything that had been pushed down now surging forward, unstoppable.

“I’ll ask you again, babydoll. Are you sure you want this?” Bucky’s voice was thick with restraint, the tension in his muscles barely contained as he hovered over her, his breath hot against her neck. He was giving her one last chance to stop this, to pull away, even though every fiber of his being was screaming for her. But instead of words, her answer was a quiet, deliberate motion. Her hand slid between them, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, her fingers brushing against the outline of his erection.

A low growl escaped him, and his hand shot down to catch her wrist, halting her movements. His gaze met hers, dark and intense, his chest heaving with barely restrained desire. “I need you to say it,” he murmured, voice rough, on the edge of control.

“Yes,” she whispered.

That was all he needed.

Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, not bothering with the buttons, his muscles flexing as the fabric slid off. The moment his skin was free, he didn’t give himself time to think. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore easily under his grip, the sound of it ripping filling the air. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze.

“Hey! It was brand new, you know?” she protested.

“I noticed,” he replied, his fingers grazing the tattered edge of her dress. “But you didn’t buy it to wear it for me, did you?” His voice dropped, thick with jealousy as he alluded to her date with Chris. He dipped his head, his lips hovering just above her exposed skin, his breath warm against her chest. “I don’t want it on you”. He latched his lips onto her nipple, his tongue swirling with a hungry need, while his vibranium fingers pinched and teased her other breast. His breath was hot against her chest as he whispered between kisses, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you.” His words came out rough, full of longing that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Every night... thinking about touching you again. Tasting you. Making you come over my cock.”

Her body responded, arching into him. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, afraid that maybe Ben could hear her, but it slipped out anyway.

His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them firmly as he let out a low growl. “I thought about this, over and over... how you’d feel under me, how you’d sound when I made you scream my name again.” His voice was thick, hoarse, as he tugged at her dress, tearing the fabric completely until it was nothing but rags on the floor. He didn’t stop there, his thumbs slipping under the waistband of her flimsy panties. With a swift tug, the seams gave way, tearing effortlessly in his hands. He brought the soaked cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning as if the scent alone was enough to drive him insane. “God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. He flicked his tongue against the ruined cloth, savoring the taste with a low, hungry growl.

Without warning, he tossed the panties aside. His hands moved quickly, unbuttoning what remained of his jeans and kicking off his shoes before sliding the denim and underwear down in one fluid motion. They hit the floor with a soft thud as he stepped toward her. “Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly.

She stared at him, drinking him in. He looked leaner, his body sculpted in sharp lines of muscle. He’d lost weight, surely by going mission after mission mixed with his poor eating habits. He was never good at taking care of himself. She almost missed the small paunch he used to have these last years, the one he hated, but she’d loved to bite. There was something comforting about that softness, but now he was the embodiment of raw strength.

Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the sight of his cock, standing at full attention. She swallowed. Apparently, her memories failed to measure up to reality. He was big, sure, she’d always known that, but this big? Her core tightened with need, clenching in raw anticipation.

"I missed you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with longing as her eyes lifted to meet his. “So much… you have no idea. God, you’ve ruined me.”

Her words shattered whatever restraint he had left. He’d imagined, countless times, that if this moment ever came, he’d take his time, savor her, and make it last. But now, faced with her beneath him, so close and so ready, patience was a luxury he no longer possessed.

Without a second thought, he gripped her thighs and spread her wide on the table, lining himself up as he dragged the head of his cock along her entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. In a swift, desperate thrust, he drove into her, hard and deep, filling her completely as a ragged groan escaped his lips.

She cried out, her body responding immediately, arching into him as he slammed into her again. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, and his own moved in a relentless rhythm, every thrust driving him deeper. He couldn’t stop. Her moans spurred him on, her words circling in his head like a drug.

“Ruined you, huh?” His breath was ragged as he pulled almost all the way out, teasing her with the loss, before slamming back in. “Let me remind you how much.” With a raw hunger that had been bottled up far too long, Bucky's thrusts became brutal, each one driving her back along the table, her nails scraping against the wood as he took her over and over. The grip on her hips was iron-hard, pinning her down so she could do nothing but take everything he gave her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “Think anyone else could ever do this?” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. His lips ghosted along her jaw, and he pushed her to answer, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Tell me,” he demanded softly “Could anyone else make you feel like this?” He wanted her to say it, to make her admit that no one else would ever satisfy her the way he could.

She whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he pounded into her, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed her higher and higher. “No… no one else.” Her words were broken, barely audible over her moans, but it was all he needed to hear.

“That’s right” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he breathed, each word laced with raw possession as he thrust deeper. “Only me,” he rasped. “Only I get to make you feel this way.”

He growled, one hand leaving her hip to slide between them, his fingers pressing down on her clit in quick, merciless circles. “This is mine,” he hissed, metal fingers working just enough to bring her close before pulling away, only to return just as she thought she couldn’t take any more.

She cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he drove her to the edge. His pace never faltered, his hips grinding against hers with a relentless rhythm, and his grip on her only tightened as she arched off the table, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick with lust and something darker, something possessive. His hands slid down the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up against her torso as he plunged deeper, she could barely breathe every time he bottomed out. The way he hit her, the pressure at her cervix, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through her, each one making her mewl helplessly. Her thighs shook against his chest, her hands desperately clutching at his forearms, fingers digging into his skin.

He leaned in closer again, his face inches from hers, his lips brushing her ears as he growled, “Tell me you’re mine.”

"I’m yours… fuck, Bucky!" she complied, her voice breaking between her panting breaths.

"Again," he ordered, his hips slamming into hers, the table creaking under the force of his movements. He could feel her walls clenching around him, so tight, so wet, he almost lost control then and there.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered again, her voice shaky, breathless.

“Chris will be so disappointed to hear that” he growled. “Let’s make sure you stay ruined, just in case.” He was relentless now, fucking her hard, deep, his body pressing hers further into the table as he pushed her thighs harder against her body giving him even better access, hitting that sensitive spot that left her gasping, his grip and the relentless pace leaving no room for anything but the sensation of him filling her completely, over and over.

She whimpered in response, too overwhelmed to speak, her entire body tensing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His thumb moved between them again pressing against her clit, rubbing circles that sent sparks of heat shooting through her. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm built rapidly, her body teetering on the edge.

“Milk my cock.” he ordered, his voice harsh, primal. His words pushed her over the edge and then she was gone, her body shivering violently as she clenched around him, her thighs tightening around him as her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. The sound of his name fell from her lips, half-whisper, half-cry as the climax gripped her, intense and all-consuming, leaving her a trembling, breathless mess.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping into hers with bruising force. “And then some more,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. “You won’t even be able to keep it all in, babydoll.”

With a final thrust, Bucky’s head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he reached his climax. His body trembled, muscles tensing as he spilled himself inside her, a heated wave of release filling her completely. He held her there, his cock kept pulsing until his release overflowed, warm and thick, beginning to trickle down, pooling beneath them.

Still buried inside her, Bucky loosened his grip on her thighs, hands sliding down to cradle her waist as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as the heat of their union slowly ebbed, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of them seemed prepared for.

After a moment, he gently eased himself away, untangling their bodies but letting his hands linger at her hips, as though afraid to lose the connection. He took a step back, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting to meet hers, hoping she’d break the silence but she didn’t look at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Bucky’s chest tightened, a familiar pang surfacing as he watched her withdraw inward, her mind elsewhere despite the intimacy they’d just shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, tentative. “So… what now, Bucky?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I don’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I know I shouldn’t have done this. Not after…” He hesitated, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Not after what I put you through.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her expression, old wounds resurfacing. “Then why did you put me through this, Bucky?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain. “You said you couldn’t do this. That you needed space, that we were holding you back.” Her words hung heavy in the air, each one a quiet accusation tinged with vulnerability. “And now, you’re here, acting like…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…acting like you never left.”

He hesitated, knowing this was his chance to finally tell her the truth or let her keep believing the lie he’d used to protect them. He rubbed a hand over his face, then lowered it, meeting her gaze with raw honesty. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I left because I was afraid that my past... everything I tried to bury might come back to hurt you. Hurt him.” His voice softened. “I thought if you believed I didn’t want this life, it would keep you safe.”

He glanced down, his hand twitching at his side before he looked up again, his voice hushed but resolute. "But… I want to come back,” he admitted, the words raw, like they’d been buried deep for too long. “To the house. To you, and Benjamin.”

A chill lingered in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gaze flicking over their scattered clothes still strewn across the kitchen floor. She looked away, her shoulders tense as she rubbed her temples. "So, what’s changed, Bucky? The risks are still there, the same threats, the same fears..."

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver, his hand reaching out as though to touch her, but he stopped short, fingers brushing the edge of the table instead. "What’s different is me. I’ve had time to face what I couldn’t before. Stepping aside didn’t keep you safer; it just kept me away. I don’t want Ben growing up with a dad who keeps him and his mom at arm’s length. Almost a stranger.” His voice softened, the vulnerability seeping through. “Being apart from you doesn’t make things better. I miss you, doll. I miss us.”

“You can’t just leave and come back like nothing happened, Bucky.” Her voice was softer this time, almost breaking. “I wanted you here… every day, every night. Not just for me, but for Benjamin.” Her voice trembled with raw vulnerability.

He took a step closer, his hand hovering near hers, unsure if she’d pull away. “I know, and I hate that I ever thought leaving was the answer.” His tone was low, his gaze steady on her.

She looked down, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, emotions tightening her expression. “If you come back, I need to know you’re here to stay,” she whispered, the words more for herself than for him. “Because I don’t think I can go through this again… and I won’t let him either.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her hands gripping the table harder as if to keep herself grounded.

Her words shattered the last remnants of his restraint. Without another thought, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, the hard tile digging into him as he pressed his forehead against her thigh. She sucked in a breath, her hand instinctively moving to his hair, fingers trembling as they brushed against him. He could feel her hesitation, the walls she’d built so carefully to guard herself from the ache he’d left behind.

“Say yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with the vulnerability he could no longer hide. “Say yes, doll. I know I don’t deserve it.” His hands gripped her hips, anchoring him as if she were the only thing keeping him steady. “But I swear,” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I swear, I’ll never walk away again. Not from you, not from Benjamin.”

She looked down, a mix of shock and pain written on her face as she saw him there, broken, open, begging her for something she’d once offered so freely. Her hand gently settled on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch, feeling the softness of her fingers against the rough stubble of his jaw. The ache in her eyes nearly undid him, but he stayed there, his forehead still pressed to her thigh, his breath heavy, waiting.

Her eyes searched his, and slowly, her resolve began to waver, the smallest flicker of trust finding its way back into her gaze. "Then prove it," she whispered, barely trusting herself as her hand lingered against his cheek, the warmth of her palm seeping into him. "Show me you’re here to stay."

After her words hung in the air, a fragile silence between them, Bucky’s gaze dropped. He swallowed, his hand reaching for something inside the scattered clothes on the floor.

From his back pocket, he drew out a small, well-worn leather charm, a little star-shaped pendant, its edges smoothened from years of handling. She recognized it immediately. It was something she’d passed on to him when he left for his first mission after they married, a symbol she hoped would keep him safe. She thought it had been lost long ago, like so many pieces of them.

He held it out to her, and the look on his face was raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen since the early days. “I never stopped carrying this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick. “Even when I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away. I couldn’t let go of you…of us. I kept it close, hoping… hoping someday I could come back and give it back to you. I know it doesn’t make up for the time I lost, but…” His voice faltered, the sincerity there unmistakable.

She stared at the pendant, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out, fingers grazing the familiar leather. All the memories it held, the late-night goodbyes, the whispered promises, the hope she’d once tied to it, all of it rushed back, filling the space between them.

She looked down at him, seeing in his eyes the weight of the years, the regrets, but also the glimmer of the man she’d fallen in love with.

Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this was supposed to keep you safe, Bucky. Keep us safe.”

“And it did,” he replied softly, his hand covering hers over the charm. “It kept you here.” He paused, his voice barely a murmur. “And maybe now… it can bring me back home.”

The last of her defenses wavered, and she felt herself letting go of the anger, the hurt, all the pieces that had kept them apart. “Maybe… maybe it was always meant to guide you back here,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his with a warmth he hadn’t seen in years. “So if you’re really here to stay… then welcome home, Bucky.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

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