#the fact that this is one of the ONLY times she lets her mask slip. and just. sobs. because she realizes how fucked her life is

[aztrosist666]

i think about this scene twice a day minimum

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[writersdrug]

I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):

ANGST TIME

He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?

"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".

Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!

He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.

"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."

"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."

"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.

You furrow your brow. "Huh?"

He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.

You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"

Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."

Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"

"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"

"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."

He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"

"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."

"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"

"I've got a date!"

"I've got my own shit too!"

You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.

Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.

Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.

You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"

"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."

You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.

Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.

You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.

Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.

"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"

His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.

You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.

Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.

Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.6k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: pls ignore any grammar/spelling errors if so, I wrote some of this on my phone series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

You’re silent for a moment. Firstly, caught off guard by this woman stopping you from your responsibilities, but also the fact that she seems to be regarding you with such disgust. Do you know who I am? That question pisses you off. Should you say yes? Or no? Instead, you straighten up, scrutinizing her right back. Long, pretty brown hair. Hazel eyes. Pink lips. Expensive clothing. Damn it, she’s pretty. 

“Should I?” Perfect balance between the two options. 

Her lip curves up into a bitter smile, pushing past you into the penthouse with no apologies. This causes you to stumble back slightly before finding your stance again, turning around to face the woman as she paces Satoru’s apartment with a wave of confidence. Almost more than the man himself. “Where is he?”

“Satoru is at work,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Himari pauses mid-step, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she turns to face you. Her eyes scan the apartment briefly before landing back on you, sharp and assessing. She raises an eyebrow, her expression one of disbelief, as if your answer isn’t good enough for her. "At work?" she echoes, her tone laced with skepticism. "And you’re here, what, playing house in his absence?"

Your jaw tightens, her words cutting deeper than you’d like to admit. "I’m here because of my son," you snap, arms still crossed as you try to maintain your composure. "I don’t owe you an explanation."

Himari’s lips curl into a now mocking smile as she slowly approaches you, her expensive perfume wafting in the air between you. "You’re right. You don’t owe me an explanation. But you do owe it to yourself to figure out where you stand in all of this. Because trust me," her voice lowers, dripping with condescension, "whatever this is? It’s temporary."

You feel your anger rising, but you swallow it down, unwilling to let her see that she’s getting under your skin. "I think you’re confused," you say, keeping your voice steady despite the fire in your chest. "This isn’t about me or you—it’s about Koji spending time with his father. And I’m not going to stand here and let you try to turn it into something else."

Her expression hardens, and for a brief moment, the mask of superiority slips, revealing a flash of something you can’t quite place. Jealousy? Fear? "Koji," she repeats, almost spitting the name out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. "Is that the name of the little brat that’s ruining everything?"

“Watch your mouth,” a motherly wave of protection instantly befalls you at her choice of words. 

“Why should I? That kid is nothing but a—”

Your hands tighten into fists at your sides, and your voice hardens. “I said, watch your mouth. I won’t let you badmouth my child.”

Himari’s eyes widen slightly, the mask of composure slipping even further as she takes in your reaction. For a moment, she looks almost startled, as if she hadn’t expected you to bite back. But just as quickly, she recovers, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a sneer. “Touchy, aren’t we?” she says, her tone sharp. “I’m just calling it how I see it. Satoru and I had plans, a life we were building, and then you come waltzing back in, dragging some kid into the picture. Don’t act like this hasn’t complicated everything.”

Your jaw clenches, and it takes everything in you to keep from shouting. “Koji is Satoru’s son,” you say firmly, your voice low but cutting. “If you think for one second that I’m going to apologize for that, you’re delusional. Whatever plans you think you had with him, they don’t erase his responsibilities as a father.”

Himari scoffs, her eyes narrowing. “Responsibilities? Don’t make me laugh. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Using that child as leverage to worm your way back into his life? Everyone can see through this little game of yours. You seem like a poverty-stricken nobody who probably has nothing better to do with her life than go back to a man you never had just for that security. Let me guess, you’re blackmailing him that if he doesn’t help you out, he’ll never see his son again. People like you are pathetic and you leech off the important people like us—like my boyfriend. ”

Your blood runs cold at her words, and your chest tightens with a mixture of fury and disbelief. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, the sheer audacity of her accusations stealing the breath from your lungs. But then the weight of her words sinks in, and a protective fire ignites inside you. You take a step closer to her, your eyes locked onto hers with unwavering intensity. “Say whatever you want about me,” you begin, your voice low and steady, though it trembles slightly with suppressed anger. “Insult me, make your assumptions, spin whatever narrative helps you sleep at night—but leave my son out of it.”

Himari raises an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance, but you see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Oh,” she says, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did,” you snap, your voice rising. “You don’t know a damn thing about me or my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve sacrificed, or what I’d do to protect my child. Koji has nothing to do with whatever petty insecurities you have, so don’t you dare use him as a weapon to take cheap shots at me.”

Himari’s smirk falters, and she takes a slight step back, though she tries to mask it with a scoff. “Oh, please. Spare me the sob story. You can play the victim all you want, but it’s obvious what this is. You’re desperate, and you’re using that boy to sink your claws back into Satoru. You have no idea how much this ruins everything.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you say, your voice softer now, but no less cutting. “This isn’t about Satoru. It’s not about you, either. It’s about giving Koji what he deserves—a chance to know his father, to have someone who loves him unconditionally. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong in his life.”

Himari glares at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the tension in the air crackling like static. Finally, she lets out a derisive huff, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll see,” she says, her voice icy. “We’ll see how long this little charade lasts. But don’t get too comfortable—you won’t win. People like you never do.”

“And people like you…” you start, biting the inside of your cheek; debating whether it’s worth stooping down to this woman’s level. 

Himari freezes in place, her lips curling into a sneer. “And people like me?” she asks, her voice sharp and challenging.

“People like you,” you say, stepping forward again, close enough to reach out and slap her, your voice unwavering, “think the world owes them something just for existing. You walk around acting superior, but all you’re doing is hiding how insecure you really are. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because deep down, you know Satoru isn’t yours to keep.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. She clenches her fists, but her laugh is bitter and hollow. “Insecure? Please. I have everything I need, and I definitely don’t need to play house with some random ex to prove my worth. Satoru’s with me because he wants to be, not because he feels sorry for me like he does for you.”

You take a deep breath, steadying the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. But let me make one thing clear—you don’t get to stand here and insult my son or me. Koji is Satoru’s priority, not some trophy you can use to boost your own ego. So if you’ve got something to say, make sure it’s worth my time.”

Himari’s face twists in frustration, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she straightens her posture, her mask of composure slipping back into place. “You have no idea what you’re saying, do you?” she says coolly, her tone a forced calm. “Someone should really teach you what happens when you fuck with the wrong people.”

“Then teach me.”

You don’t want to egg her on, you didn’t even want to see this girl in the first place. But nonetheless, the things she’s saying��how she’s acting, it’s bringing out a side of you that you try to keep hidden. Composed under years of self-calming techniques and resilience. Maybe it’s just adding onto the extra shit going on right now, but the fact that she’s managed to anger you this much in such little time is infuriating in itself. You don’t want to give her the energy or time of day. But, you also don’t want her to think she can get away with speaking about Koji like this—about you like this.

You two are engaged in a heavy staring contest, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Facing each other with an equal stance of hostility. The air between you is thick with tension, every second stretching like an eternity as neither of you breaks eye contact. Himari’s jaw tightens, her polished exterior beginning to crack. It’s subtle, but you catch it—the slight twitch of her lip, the faint waver in her composed demeanor. For all her bravado, she didn’t expect you to stand your ground.

“What’s going on?” Satoru’s worried, but quick and abrupt voice interrupts the moment. Coming in through the still-open door, closing it behind him, and meticulously placing himself between you two. He looks at you, checking to make sure you’re okay but focusing on his girlfriend. “Himari, what are you—”

The sound of a palm smacking hard against his skin reverberates throughout the place, cutting him off with such force that it leaves a stunned silence in its wake. Your eyes widen, watching as Satoru doesn’t move his head for a moment from the side it has just been slapped to. Looking closer, red already begins to break out on his pale cheek. Your jaw clenches.

He slowly looks back at Himari, who faces him with an angry look. Satoru’s face hardens as he does so, his eyes narrowing slightly. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, a sharp edge that doesn’t appear often but sends a chill down your spine when it does. His voice is low and measured, a stark contrast to the tension radiating off him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm but laced with steel. 

Himari doesn’t flinch, her fury unabated. “For letting this—this circus go on!” she snaps, gesturing between you and him. “For embarrassing me, for letting her waltz in and ruin everything we’ve built! How can you stand there and not see what she’s doing to us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He huffs out, straightening his jaw out.

“You lie to me, you dodge my questions, and now I find out you have a fucking son? And with a woman like her?” She points to you, scoffing at the idea. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of levity, are clouded with frustration now. “Himari, stop,” he says firmly, his voice low but commanding. “You’re crossing a line.”

Himari laughs bitterly, her voice dripping with disdain. “Oh, I’m crossing a line? You’ve been lying to me for who knows how long, and I’m the one in the wrong? I think I have every right to be angry, Satoru!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “You’re angry, fine. But don’t you dare talk about her like that,” he snaps, nodding toward you. “This isn’t her fault. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

You’re the last one to blame, Satoru. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of the moment radiating off them both. Himari’s sharp gaze darts to you, her lips curling in disdain. “Of course, you’d defend her. She’s nothing but a leech, clinging to you because she has no other options. And now you’re letting her use that kid to worm her way into your life.”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, startling both you and Himari. He steps forward, his towering presence imposing as his icy glare fixes on her. “You don’t get to talk about her—or my son—like that. Ever. Do you hear me?”

Himari’s eyes widen, a flicker of shock passing through her anger. But she recovers quickly, her voice lowering to a venomous hiss. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re ruining everything for someone who’s nothing to you. Do you really think she’s here for you? She’s here for your money, your status. Wake up, Satoru.”

“Himari, you should go now.”

“Oh, I will,” She tilts her chin up at him. “My parents have a lot to say to you and your own. So be ready for that. If you think I’m bailing out on this relationship, I’m not. I am not letting you ruin this—ruin us.”

She speaks with finality, practically pushing into him as she heads for the door. Not even sparing another glance back before exiting, the door slamming after her. All that’s left behind is an uneasy silence. Satoru stays frozen in place for a moment, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the frustration, the exhaustion, the lingering anger. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his snowy hair before turning to face you. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low, almost defeated. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Your lips form a faint grimace, your head slowly shaking. “No, don’t apologize. I–I’m sorry.” You pause again before carefully asking, “Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes momentarily with a sigh, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Does she…slap you like that, like—usually?” The question feels nasty to ask, but you can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of seeing your ex and father of your son being so carelessly and almost nonchalantly hit like that. No matter who did it.

“Well, no,” he says. “But when she gets really pissed at me, well—she lashes out.”

Your stomach churns at his words, and despite the tension that still hangs between you two, your heart feels heavy with a mix of concern and unease. You want to reach out, but you’re not sure how, not after everything that’s happened. “That’s not okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. No one should. I don’t…like seeing you get treated like that, Satoru.”

Satoru’s gaze softens, though he quickly brushes it off with a wave of his hand, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “It’s fine, really. It’s just how she is when she’s angry. I’m used to it.” The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes your chest tighten. You want to argue, to tell him that being used to it doesn’t make it right, but you hold back. He’s not a child; he doesn’t need to be coddled. But the way he brushes off the situation, like it’s no big deal, makes it hard to ignore that maybe he’s been through this for far too long. You almost start wishing you could go back in time and slap her instead. 

“Still,” you say, taking a cautious step closer. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve that.”

Satoru finally meets your gaze, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. He seems grateful, but there’s also a wall behind his expression, a part of him that refuses to acknowledge the pain beneath the surface. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “But I’m okay. Really. I just…I know how to deal with her.”

The words seem rehearsed, like he’s convincing himself as much as anyone else. You can tell he’s not fully okay. And, despite the atmosphere between you two, you know he’s not asking for your sympathy. But you can’t help but feel like there’s more beneath it all that he’s not saying, things he’s kept hidden far too long. “It looks a little swollen, do you want to ice it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He agrees, walking to his freezer and getting out a small icepack. You hover awkwardly, unsure if you should leave him be or offer some strange sense of comfort. But it feels wrong to just leave like that. Sure, there’s a certain line marked between you two, but you still have empathy. Morality. You’re still a good person, and so is Satoru. So, you step forward slowly, still leaving enough room for him to deny you.

Satoru doesn’t protest as you move closer, but you notice the way his body tenses just slightly, a subtle indication that he’s still not entirely comfortable. He continues to press the icepack to his cheek with a quiet sigh, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The sound of the ice against his skin is the only noise filling the silence between you. You can’t help but feel the weight of it all—the tension, the unresolved emotions, the hurt. You know he’s not the type to open up easily, but something about the way he’s holding himself, the guarded look in his eyes, tells you he’s struggling with more than just the immediate confrontation with Himari.

Your hand reaches up and tentatively replaces his own on the pack. 

Satoru tenses again for a moment at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. He lets you take the icepack from him, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. The warmth of his skin against yours lingers, and you feel a shift in the air between you, something unspoken, yet palpable. You keep the ice gently on his swollen cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure. Your eyes meet his, the proximity somehow making everything feel more intimate than it should be, and yet, in that moment, it feels right—like you’re not just helping him physically, but in some quiet, emotional way too. His gaze softens, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his usually guarded expression. The situation reminds you of the past.

Nights when he was too sleep-deprived to function, the times when he accidentally cut himself with a knife while making dinner, or the times you used to apply face masks together during your sleepovers. It all feels like how it used to.

"Let me," you say softly, a quiet reassurance in your voice, though you’re unsure why you feel the need to offer it. Maybe it’s because, despite the complicated history between you two, in this moment, it feels like you’re more than just the roles you’ve played—more than the messy entanglements that surround you both.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a few seconds, his eyes focusing on the ice as you hold it against his cheek. The silence between you is no longer uncomfortable, but rather, it feels like a rare kind of peace, a brief respite from the chaos. "Thanks for doing this," he says eventually, his voice softer than usual. "I know it’s not easy, dealing with all the shit going on, but... I appreciate it."

You nod, unsure of how to respond to that. It’s strange, helping him like this, especially considering how much tension has been between you two recently. But the act itself, simple as it is, feels like a small moment of clarity amidst all the confusion. "You don’t have to thank me," you say quietly, looking up at him. “I’m here. For whatever you need. Just…don’t blame yourself. It’s all my fault.”

You both stand there for a long moment, neither of you moving, just sharing the space. No words are needed, the action itself speaking volumes more than anything you could say aloud. He looks like he wants to protest, to say that you’re wrong and that he has some blame in this giant mess too. But he stays silent, enjoying the comfortability of a life that seems to offer none of that so far. It’s like he still—after all this time—finds his peace with you. 

That thought makes him feel put off.

Because while he can’t stop how his heart feels and force it to feel the opposite, there are still lingering emotions of annoyance. Of how this all could’ve been avoided. Of how he still hasn’t completely forgiven you. Of how that small part of him hates you. Hate? Does he hate you? It seems like he has an answer to that question when you gently place a hand on his chest. Head leaning up like it’s ready for something, your eyes flickering down to his lips. He sees it; knows it’s coming. But he doesn’t move, for some reason. 

Your hand freezes the moment you realize what you’re doing, quickly stopping yourself from leaning up anymore. Though it’s a little too late for that, considering you’re this close to his lips. You hadn't even noticed it at first, your body moving on instinct, closing the distance between you two. But now that his chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, the weight of your action feels impossibly heavy. 

“I…” you stammer, the words getting caught in your throat. You glance up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, searching for some kind of response. But his expression is unreadable, his pale lashes half-lowered as he looks at you with something in between confusion and guarded curiosity. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, and you can tell he’s trying to process what just happened—what’s happening now. His lips open like he’s about to say something, but the silence stretches between you both instead. Finally, his hand moves, brushing lightly over your wrist, a cautious touch, testing your reaction. “Why did you do that?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual, yet laced with an edge of something you can’t quite place. It’s not anger, but it’s not entirely calm either.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pull your hand back quickly, as if you’ve burned yourself, clutching it against your chest like it might shield you from the tension. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry.”

“No,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “You were.”

His words send a jolt through you, and for a moment, you feel exposed, like he’s peeled back a layer of your defenses you weren’t ready to give up. He doesn’t break eye contact, but there’s a shift in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper—conflict, maybe. 

“Satoru,” you start, but the name sounds so small, so uncertain, even to you. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re making this complicated,” he cuts in, his tone sharper now, like he’s trying to create a barrier between you again. “I’m trying to figure this out. Everything. And you…you can’t just—” He stops himself, exhaling harshly, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “You can’t just do things like that and expect me to know what the hell you’re thinking.”

You flinch slightly at the bite in his words, but you don’t back down. “I’m not trying to complicate anything,” you reply, more firmly this time. “I just—I don’t know how to act around you anymore. It’s like I can’t get it right.”

Satoru takes a step back, putting more distance between you, but his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

A silence befalls you two. One that threatens you to curse yourself for ruining something so small and tender because of your own selfish desires. What reason was it for? Why did you do that? Maybe it was just a small moment of hallucination. You weren’t thinking right, only your body was. Or maybe it was the peacefulness that tiny moment brought you, or it felt right and nostalgic. Your feelings are already all jumbled up, this situation didn’t make it any better. 

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as you both stand there, neither daring to speak or move. You feel the weight of your own actions crashing down on you, each second of quiet like an accusation. What were you thinking? The question echoes in your mind, louder and louder. Was it a lapse in judgment? A selfish impulse? Or something else entirely—a longing for something that no longer exists? 

You glance at Satoru, his expression unreadable, the cool mask he wears so well firmly in place. You wish he’d say something, anything, even if it was to scold you or tell you to leave. But he doesn’t. He just stares, and the silence twists deeper into your chest. 

Why did you do that? you wonder again, your thoughts spiraling. Maybe it was the way his presence felt familiar, and comforting, even after everything. Or maybe it was the way the tension between you two softened for just a fleeting second when you held that ice pack for him. Or, it could’ve been just the nostalgia—a memory of a time when things were less complicated when you didn’t feel so distant, so broken. 

But now? Now it feels like you’ve ruined even that small, fragile thread of peace. The silence between you isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s damning. You’ve crossed a line, one you didn’t even realize was still there.  

You open your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, to apologize again, but no words come out. Because what could you possibly say? That it was a mistake? That you weren’t thinking? That for just one moment, you wanted to feel close to him again, even if it wasn’t real?  Satoru finally exhales, breaking the quiet. His gaze flickers down, then away, like he can’t look at you anymore. “I think…” He trails off, his voice quieter than before. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t… overthink this.”

You blink at him, unsure if he’s trying to offer you an out or protect himself. “Overthink what?” you manage to ask, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks at you then, his expression softening just slightly, but there’s still a wall between you. “Whatever this is,” he says, gesturing vaguely between you two. “I’m trying to figure things out, and this...it just complicates everything.”

Your chest tightens at his words, but you nod, forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “I get it.” But do you? Or are you just agreeing because it’s easier than admitting that you don’t know where the lines are anymore? Or if they still exist. Or that you don’t even know how you feel—let alone how he feels.  

“I should go,” you say finally, your voice steadier now. You grab your bag again that you set on the table haphazardly after the girlfriend run-in, avoiding his gaze, and head for the door. But just as you’re about to leave, you pause, turning back to him. “Satoru… I’m sorry.” I really didn’t mean it.  

He doesn’t respond immediately, his hand lifting briefly as if he’s going to reach for you but dropping back to his side. “Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Me too.”

You don’t waste time in making your departure after hearing his words. The door closes behind you as you briskly make your way to the elevator. Letting out a breath you must’ve been holding the whole time once you’re in. Watching yourself drop floor by floor, each thought sounding louder than the previous one. Questions of why bouncing off the walls of your brain. You don’t know why; or maybe you do, you just can’t face it yet. 

You’re not sure you want to face it. 

You can only hope Satoru is right about all this and he stays true to his word. Don’t overthink it, pretend it didn’t happen. That should be easy, right? It should be simple, just forget it. 

The elevator doors slide open, and the cold air from the lobby greets you as you step out. The stillness of the afternoon settles around you like a blanket, thick and suffocating. You pause just outside the building, inhaling deeply as if the fresh air will help clear your head. But it doesn’t. The questions still echo, louder now in the quiet of the world around you. Maybe the answer, it’s been there all along, waiting for the cracks in your armor to show. But facing it means confronting feelings you’ve kept locked away for years—feelings you’re not sure you’re ready to admit exist.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence. You pull it out, and Hana’s name lights up the screen. Guilt instantly knots in your stomach. You’ve been so caught up in your own whirlwind of emotions that you completely forgot about your shift. “Hey,” you answer, your voice tight but steady.

“Y/N? Where the hell have you been?” Hana’s voice is sharp but concerned. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stammer, forcing a calm tone. “Just… had some things to take care of. I’m sorry for being late, I’m coming right now.”

There’s a pause on her end, and then she sighs. “Look, just get here when you can, alright? We’ll talk about this later.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, already walking toward the nearest bus stop. “I’ll be there soon.”

As the line disconnects, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and quicken your pace. Hopefully, work will be a distraction, something to keep your mind from circling back to Satoru, to what happened, to everything it could and couldn’t mean. Because right now, pretending it didn’t happen feels safer than admitting that it did. And you can only hope—pray, even that Satoru is doing the same. 

Satoru had barely even eaten the lunch he grabbed from his fridge. Driving back to the office in complete silence, not even putting the radio on as background noise. Now, he’s just staring down at his food on his desk, finger tapping against the armrest of his chair. The food sits untouched in front of him, its aroma barely registering as Satoru leans back in his chair. His finger taps rhythmically against the armrest, an unconscious outlet for the storm of thoughts swirling in his head—an unusual quietness for someone who usually thrives on noise.

But now, the silence feels deafening.

His jaw tightens as he replays the scene in his apartment, your expression when you left, and the weight of your hand on his chest, the way you leaned in so casually, so instinctively. He lets out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair. “Get it together,” he mutters under his breath, glaring at the half-eaten sandwich sitting before him like it’s the cause of his current turmoil.

He’s angry—not just at you, but at himself. At the way his heart reacted in that split second, betraying him when he was supposed to have control. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, not after everything that had happened between you two. But that small moment—the fleeting touch, the look in your eyes—it’s left him shaken in a way he can’t quite articulate.

The sharp knock at his office door jolts him out of his thoughts. He straightens, hastily pushing the food aside and clearing his throat. “Yeah, come in,” he calls, his voice a little rougher than intended.

A junior colleague pokes their head in, a stack of files in their hands. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but these need your signature before the end of the day.”

“Just leave them on the desk,” he replies, barely sparing a glance.

The younger employee hesitates, sensing the tension in the room, before quickly placing the files down and retreating. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his desk as he buries his face in his hands. He knows he won’t get anything done like this, but his thoughts are relentless. And no matter how much he tells himself to let it go, he can’t shake the memory of your hand, your eyes, the way you looked at him as if you were searching for something he’s not sure he can give. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, shoving his chair back and standing abruptly. Maybe he needs to walk it off, clear his head, do something—anything—to stop thinking about you.

A few minutes pass, busying himself with the signatures before the doors open again, this time with no warning knock. “I’ve had people look into the leak, it was an anonymous source. There’s a group of men your father sent to scout out the possible places the picture was taken from.”

His mother’s voice is a small distraction from his inner turmoil. Of course it’s not the exact thing he’d like to hear and discuss right now, but anything to take his mind off today's earlier events. “Any luck?”

She sighs, rubbing a hand through her greying hair. “As of now, no. But we’re narrowing it down. Your father believes the leak came from a possible rival.”

Satoru sits up straight. “Like the Zenins?”

Grimacing at the mere mention of that family, Akane frowns but shakes her head. “No, surprisingly. They were out on a family vacation to Italy. I got word they landed back last night.”

“Still, it could’ve been from them. Maybe they hired someone.” 

The Zenins and the Gojo Group have been rivals for a long time now. Though most would probably consider them to have a “frenemies” sort of relationship, some of the people in that family are just…horrible. Not all, but almost all. Satoru lets out a low breath, leaning back in his chair as memories of past encounters with the Zenins flash through his mind. He’s been forced to deal with them more times than he can count—at corporate events, business dealings, even unfortunate leisure events—and each time, their games get more infuriating.

The Zenins own a massive real estate and infrastructure business called the Zenin Development Group, or ZDP for short. The ZDP hasn’t shied away from the use of rumors in the past that attempted to damage the Gojo Group’s image. Satoru remembers one incident where word had been flying around about the Gojo Group “losing its footing in certain markets”. A sorry try at weakening their investor confidence. The head of the Zenins, Toji, is usually the more critical and logical man. His cousin however, the man who was supposed to be in Toji’s spot, isn’t. That cousin, lacking Toji’s cunning and restraint filled nature, remains a wildcard Satoru would rather not deal with. 

Still, their family name alone is enough to make Satoru’s jaw clench.

Akane pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “It’s a possibility, but your father’s men are thorough. If the Zenins hired someone, we’d have a trail by now. And honestly, Satoru, with the way that family operates, they’d have made sure you knew it was them. Subtlety isn’t exactly their strong suit.”  

Satoru lets out a dry huff, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re right. They love to flaunt their chaos.”  

“Exactly,” Akane replies, crossing her arms as she paces. “This is different. It feels… personal. Whoever leaked that photo isn’t trying to start a war—they’re trying to cause damage. To you specifically or the company name, either or.”  

He tilts his head, processing her words. “Why would it be specifically me? And not the family, not the company?”  

“Well right now, it’s focused on you. It’s not the usual business sabotage we see with rivals.” Akane’s tone is pointed as she stops pacing, fixing him with a meaningful look. “They knew about Koji. This wasn’t some random slip. Someone wanted that information out in the open.”  

Satoru’s chest tightens, his mind flickering to you and Koji. It hadn’t been long since his son came into his life, and now—now everything felt like it was spiraling faster than he could keep up.  

“You think it’s someone close,” he mutters, not quite phrasing it as a question. “A partner?”

Akane’s silence is enough of an answer.  

Satoru pushes a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “If it’s personal, then who the hell has it out for me like this? Himari’s pissed, but she’s not stupid enough to—”  

Akane cuts him off with a sharp look. “Don’t rule her out just yet.”  

Satoru scowls. “Come on, you really think—”  

“I think people do crazy things, no matter if we think they will or not,” Akane interrupts firmly. “And she’s been in your life for years now, Satoru. She’s close enough to pull something like this without you suspecting it.”  

Satoru is quiet for a beat, his mind whirring. “And if it’s not her?”  

“Then it’s someone else in our circle,” Akane says, her voice cool and confident. “Someone with access. Someone who knows where to hit.”  

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His world already feels like it’s splitting at the seams, and now someone is actively trying to make it worse.  

“What do we do now?” he asks finally, his tone subdued.  

Akane straightens, her expression hardening with resolve. “We tighten security, keep this contained as best as we can. Your father will expect you to do damage control. In the meantime, I’ll keep digging to find out who’s behind this.”  

“And what’s his plan if we find the source?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

Her lips thin into a straight line. “We’ll handle it as we always do. Quietly. Efficiently.”

Satoru nods, his jaw set. “Good. Do whatever you have to. I want answers.”  

Akane turns to leave but pauses at the door. “And Satoru—be careful who you trust.”  

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Satoru alone once more, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the silence.  

Someone close to him betrayed him. Someone knew about Koji. Was he getting followed again? It couldn’t have been the informant his parents sent after him when he was gone, they already checked in with him and scared him to keep his mouth shut about anything. 

Satoru swivels the mouse to his computer, lighting up the screen once more. An article he had stopped reading a few minutes prior appears. The Zenin Development Group, of course, had been the first to make a comment. Within hours of the news breaking, they released a veiled statement—dressed up as “a comment on modern family values”—that clearly took aim at the Gojo Group. The implication had been clear: Satoru Gojo, the golden heir, had secrets. Unpredictability. For a family like the Gojos, where control was everything, it was a calculated jab. The Zenins would never miss an opportunity to capitalize on a weakness. He laced his fingers together as his mind runs. 

The real estate moguls weren’t the only ones circling, though. Smaller partnerships had already started asking questions. He was hoping that deals that were already set in stone wouldn’t suddenly slow to a crawl with poor excuses of  “we’re just waiting to finalize a few details” piling up. However, investors did send cautious emails, politely “checking in” to ensure the Gojo Group was still on track.

And the last thing the Gojo Group needed were foreign partners—companies Satoru and his father had worked years to solidify relationships with—showing even hints of hesitation. People wanted answers, of course, clarity. How does the man who’s heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates have a child hidden away? And more importantly, what else don’t they know?

Satoru exhales sharply, his fingers pressing harder into each other. It had taken everything in him not to lose his temper in the initial meetings of this morning. The entire damn building practically gawked at him more than usual when he strutted in. He felt their silent questions, their shock and confusion. None of them voiced anything, but that didn’t stop them from secretly whispering to each other when they thought he couldn’t hear. He kept his voice steady, his demeanor calm—like none of this mattered, like he wasn’t feeling the weight of it all pressing against his ribs. To his credit, most of the major deals were still holding. The Gojo name was far too powerful to be shaken by one scandal, but that didn’t mean cracks hadn’t appeared.

There were still murmurs, even within his own company. Executives muttering over coffee, wondering if the family would take action to “correct the situation.” His parents had already made their stance clear—they wanted this “mess” cleaned up quickly. A statement. A press release. Something that would sweep the story under the rug.

But Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he? What would he even say? That he’s sorry?

His son wasn’t a mistake.

He glances over to the untouched lunch on his desk, appetite long gone. Koji hadn’t asked to be born into this family, into this life of scrutiny and power plays. And yet here he was—thrust into the spotlight because of some unruly person who doesn’t give a damn about anything. The Gojo Group would weather this storm—he’d have to make sure of it.

Still, it’s the moments between all the business calls and the carefully crafted emails that gnaw at him the most. When he catches a glimpse of Koji’s face in the news coverage, or sees your name being dragged into articles alongside his. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be shocked at how quickly the public found that out.

It’s just business, he reminds himself.

But Satoru knows better than anyone—nothing about this has ever just been business.

He rubs his face again this time harder, checking the time.  

Distraction, distraction, distraction. He takes his phone out, going to his messages. Hovering his thumb over your name, before biting the bullet and sending you a text. 

I’m picking up Koji today.

A few minutes later…

Y/N:

Are you sure? I can

Already decided, don’t worry about it

Satoru pauses again, his thumbs doing circles over the bright screen as he thinks of the correct way to articulate his next text. 

You should probably stay over again. I’ll watch Koji but if you’re working late, he’ll end up falling asleep. I don’t want you guys out alone at night.

Is that too forward of him to say? Truly, he does mean it for your protection and safety. He’s willing to look past whatever it was earlier today, just as long as you and his son don’t accidentally get ambushed by reporters or strangers. Besides, he’s making up for lost time, remember? 

Another few minutes passed with no reply. Assuming you’re busy at work right now, he’s about to shut his phone off and stand up when you say…

Y/N:

Oh, okay. Just one more night

He wishes he can read your tone better through text.

“Papa.”

“Yeah, buddy?” Satoru wipes a small stream of chocolate ice cream from his son’s mouth. He wonders if you’d scold him for giving him ice cream on a cold day. But hey, his son did ask. And who is he to say no?

“On January 5th, it’s a special day.” Koji grins, little legs swinging back and forth over the bed, watching his father clean up the room his son will be sleeping in again tonight. Another reason you’d probably be mad at him for eating ice cream, it’s night time and he’s about to go to sleep. 

Satoru had gone to the store after picking up Koji from school to buy a quick set of pajamas and tiny underwear for the boy after realizing he had absolutely no spare children’s clothes laying around. 

Why would he?

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” 

Koji’s grin widens, his little hands clutching the edge of the bed as if he’s holding onto the excitement bubbling inside him. “It’s Dad Appreciation Day at school!”

Satoru freezes mid-motion, Dad Appreciation Day. He turns slowly, trying to keep his voice light and teasing even as something twists in his chest. “Oh, is that so? And what happens on Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji beams up at him, oblivious to the subtle tension in his father’s stance. “It’s a day where we get to bring our dads to school and show them all the cool stuff we made! Mr. Ito says we’re gonna draw pictures and talk about how awesome they are!” He pauses for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. “And I already told everyone my dad is the coolest of them all.”

Satoru swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “You did, huh?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, his little legs still swinging. “Yeah! ‘Cause you are the coolest, Papa.” He says it like it’s the simplest truth in the world, his voice full of innocence and pride.

Satoru stares at him for a beat too long, that twisting feeling growing stronger. He crouches down in front of Koji, meeting his son’s wide, expectant eyes. But he can’t hold back the warmth that blooms in his being. “So, you want me to come to this Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji nods again, so quickly it looks like his head might fall off. “Yep! And I want you to meet my friends! And—” he pauses suddenly, glancing down at his hands as if shy about what he’s about to say. “And I want them to know you’re real.”

The words hit Satoru harder than he expects. He blinks, his heart stuttering in his chest. “What do you mean, buddy? Of course I’m real.”

Koji fidgets, his fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “Sometimes the other kids say I’m making stuff up. That I don’t really have a dad ‘cause they’ve never seen you. But I told them you’re real! And you’re awesome and tall and can do anything. I don’t have pictures of you either to show them.” He lifts his head again, his little face hopeful. “So…you’ll come, right?”

Satoru feels something ache deep in his chest—a mix of guilt, pride, and something he can’t quite name. This is what he’s been afraid of. The impact his absence might have on Koji, the doubts his son has had to defend himself against. Although it’s not his fault, he still feels awful over the fact that his son is getting criticized by other little shitheads for “lying about his dad”.

Again, who is he to say no?

Satoru musters a soft smile, reaching out to ruffle Koji’s hair. “Of course I’ll come, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Koji’s face lights up, a pure, unfiltered joy spreading across his features. “Really?! You promise?”

“I promise.” Satoru’s voice is steady, despite the weight of the promise he’s just made. Because for once, he isn’t thinking about the scandal, the headlines, or what his family might say. Right now, all he sees is his son’s smile—the only thing that matters.

Koji throws his arms around Satoru’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Papa. You’re the best.”

Satoru wraps his arms around the little boy, holding him close as he presses a kiss to the top of his head. “No, Koji. You’re the best.”

At this moment, Satoru feels like he’s doing something right.

Satoru sits back, still holding Koji close as the boy relaxes in his arms, content and unaware of the complexities that hang over his father. For a few moments, the weight of the world feels light, and the chaos of his personal and professional life fades into the background. He can’t help but wish he could bottle up this peace and take it with him everywhere. 

Koji yawns, his little body starting to slump against Satoru’s chest, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. Satoru gently shifts him back onto the bed, tucking the covers around him. Taking his ice cream from him, the room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. He watches as Koji’s eyes flutter closed, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips.

Satoru stands up slowly, lingering for a moment to make sure Koji is comfortable. He reaches for the nightlight switch, casting the room in a soft glow, then turns back to the door. His thoughts are no longer on the promises made to the company or the looming questions about his future with his family. It’s all about Koji, about being the father his son deserves.

As he steps out into the hallway, Satoru feels the familiar weight of the world returning, just a little. There are meetings tomorrow, more calls to take, and a whole slew of problems waiting for him. But tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, he has something to look forward to. A chance to be present, to be the kind of parent he knows he can be. And that’s enough for now.

He takes a deep breath, letting the silence settle around him as he heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. Tomorrow will come with its own challenges, but tonight, he can rest easy knowing that for once, he has what he wants within his grasp. 

Despite his long day, Satoru feels a small obligation to stay up for you. Ensuring you make it back safe and all. You had insisted on using the bus back home, but he sent you money for a cab instead. Sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating atop. Still in his white button up and black slacks, white socks on. Once you knock on the door, he’s answering. “Hey, how was work?”

“Okay,” you mumble, walking past him inside. From your demeanor, you look tired. Maybe even still awkward. He locks the door shut and walks over, hovering next to you as you did your body of your coat and shoes. 

“Koji’s asleep.”

You nod. “Okay, thank you.”

“No problem ,” he lightly shrugs. “Um…are you hu—“

“No, no. Not really. I think I just want to shower and sleep.”

Satoru watches as you slip off your shoes, your shoulders heavy, and your movements slower than usual. He can tell you’re not in the mood for any more conversation, and he doesn’t want to push. The tension between you both is still there, unspoken but present in every glance, every word. But he’s trying to keep the peace, trying to respect the distance you’ve put between the two of you.

“Alright, well, if you need anything...” he trails off, not sure what else to say. He knows he could offer more, but right now, he’s unsure what would make you feel more at ease. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like he’s prying.

You glance over at him for a brief moment, your face unreadable. “Thanks,” you mutter, the words soft but genuine. 

He hums back, putting his hands in his pockets. “And he told me about the Dad day. I’ll clear my schedule and go.”

You glance up at him, a surprised but relieved expression flickering across your face. You hadn’t expected him to follow through so easily, but the way he says it so matter-of-factly makes you believe him. “That’s… that’s really great, Satoru,” you say quietly, trying not to let your gratitude sound too heavy. You didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. But deep down, you’re thankful. For Koji’s sake, for his happiness, and maybe for yours too.

Satoru gives you a small smile, almost like a silent reassurance, though his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty, as if he’s still unsure of how to navigate all the unspoken words hanging between you two. “It’s nothing. He’s my son, after all. I wouldn’t miss it.”

You nod, giving him a small smile back, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease. 

“I should let you get some rest,” he adds, his voice softening, almost like he’s giving you an out. “I know you’ve had a long day. I left some of my clothes out in the bathroom for you, if that’s okay.”

You nod again, appreciative of his understanding. It’s strange how he can act so distant and yet, in moments like these, he can be so… present. For once, you don’t feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. Maybe it’s because of Koji, or maybe it’s because Satoru’s actually trying. “That’s okay, thank you again.”

“Stop thanking me so much,” he shakes you off, walking over to the sink to begin washing the dishes. For a second, you watch his back, seeing the muscles of his firm skin through the almost dangerously thin material of his shirt. You look away, realizing you’ve been staring for too long and head over to the bathroom to begin your shower. 

Once again, the water feels warm and comforting against your skin. It’s what you look forward to after your days. Relaxing and letting loose, letting your shower ease your tension in your shoulders. Freeing your body of the day’s dirt and oil, feeling an ungodly amount of clean. Maybe it’s Satoru’s detachment shower head, or his lovely smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, but it makes you sight wistfully. 

You allow yourself to bask in it, longer than you would back at your place because it’s not your water bill. As you step out and dry yourself off, the clothes that are left are a simple white t-shirt with boxers. Probably the only thing he has that can semi-fit you. 

However, you can’t resist the urge to bring the soft material up to your nostrils, eyes closing as you inhale deeply. It fills your senses with a strange, but familiar twist. Oh god, how you love his smell. 

That’s okay to admit still, right?

It’s not even just his cologne, but him. You’ve always loved it, always sniffed him and his clothes randomly. He’d make fun of you sometimes for it, just light teasing. Of course, he also was in love with the idea that just his scent alone can get you going. 

Inhale after inhale, practically stuffing the clothing in your face before taking the moment to actually put them on. Still big, but manageable. Besides, it’s just one more night. You and Koji will be back to the apartment tomorrow. 

After a good 45 minutes in the bathroom, you step out and walk in the direction of the room Koji’s in. But, you bump right into Satoru as you do so. He’s holding his own pair of pajamas in his arm. “Oh, sorry,” you quickly apologize and step back, voice low in effort to keep your son asleep. The dim lighting of the hallway almost makes his features even more pretty. “Did I take a long time? I thought you showered already.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replies, the bright hue of his eyes moving up and down. “You look…” He pauses, and there’s something in his gaze that’s hard to place, but you can feel the weight of it. “Comfortable.”

You feel your cheeks warm under his attention, but you don’t say anything in response. “Yeah, I am.”

He nods briefly and in silence. Once again, it’s like that moment from earlier today is making an appearance again. But this time it feels a little more electrified. Maybe it’s from the way his Adam’s Apple visibly bobs up and down like he’s gulping hard. Or the way his mouth has suddenly dried out. Or the way he has sudden invading memories of you wearing his shirt with nothing else after a passionate moment. Suddenly, he feels a problem. 

“Goodnight,” he swiftly utters, walking past you into the bathroom. His movements are hurried, turning the shower back on, putting his clothes down onto the sink and ridding his current wear. By the second, a knowing throb is taking place, one that almost causes him to groan out when his hand accidentally brushes against it. 

The water’s still cold as he gets in—he figures that’s a good thing. 

As the water splashes over his skin, Satoru tries to focus on the cold, the sting of it against his flushed skin, to fight off the growing tension that is so hard to ignore. His thoughts are a blur—memories of moments with you, your laughter, the way you’ve always looked at him, the touch of your skin, your smell. They all collide inside his head, each one triggering the next, until it’s impossible to escape the warmth of his desire. He tries to shake it off, tilting his face up to splash cold water onto it, breathing heavily as the icy droplets hit his skin. But the image of you wearing his shirt, the softness of the fabric against your bare skin, refuses to leave his mind. It’s maddening. There’s a part of him that feels guilty, like he’s crossing some boundary, but another part, the part that craves the connection with you, is too strong.

The tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, feels like it’s pulling him in two different directions. The man he’s supposed to be—focused, disciplined, in control—and the man who craves more than just physical closeness. 

“Get it together, idiot,” he mutters under his breath, the words coming out as a sharp reprimand, though he knows it’s easier said than done.

The water begins to warm, slowly, but he doesn’t notice, his thoughts swirling like a storm. What the hell are you doing to him?

He takes a deep breath and turns the temperature up, letting the water envelop him, hoping that it will cool the fire inside of him. But somehow, it just feels like the heat of the moment is following him everywhere. 

What was he thinking letting you wear his clothes again? He’s practically asking for it. He should’ve thought more about his decision. But at the time, he was thinking with his brain, not his hard cock. 

Sparing a small glance down, his lips downturn. The tip is already an angry red and he’s barely touched himself, his veins becoming more prominent by the second as the blood rushes up and up. It’s practically begging to be felt, begging to be released. 

He feels like such an idiot. A perverted idiot. 

But with each blink, he’s getting flashbanged of past memories. The way your moans sounded heavenly in his ear, the way you squeezed around him that had his eyes rolling back. When you’d make that cute little noise when he’d circle a thumb on your pussy clif, simultaneously bullying your hole with his cock. The way you’d hold onto him. The way you—oh god. 

His body has such a mind of its own. 

He’s twitching in his hand, achingly so. Forcing down the surge of sudden need and focusing on the now. Willing his body to stop reacting so…blatant. It’s hard. In both ways. Satoru’s a grown man. He’s not used to such childish behaviors like this anymore. Keeping the lewd noises that threaten to leave his lips down like he’s a teenager all over again, scared of getting caught jacking off in his bedroom while his parents were down the hall. And he especially didn’t think he’d react like this all over again, and so damn easily too.

That’s what pisses him off most. Aside from the fact that you seemed so nonchalant. As if you didn’t know what was happening. That, or you’ve just become a good actress.

The water pellets down on him, hoping that the sound of his warm shower is enough to drown out the noise of the shaky moan that accidentally slips from his lips. This is bad; you and his son are sleeping peacefully in the other room and he’s here doing this.

But he just can’t help himself. His cheeks are flushed red, not just from the water. Head tilting back as he lays his left palm flat on the shower wall. For a second, he lets himself indulge in his selfish desires. And for a second, he doesn’t mind the fact that he just came to the thought of another woman and not his current girlfriend.

Jesus, he’s fucked up, isn’t he?

The next day proves to be busy. With the sudden influx of customers, everyone has been practically busting their ass off. You’re happy to go home, no longer dealing with that hustle and bustle. 

Hana stays for another couple hours until she too will be saved. She can’t even count on her hands how many times a customer or customers have asked for you. She feels bad, of course. You seem to be handling it, but at the same time, you’re not. 

She’s learned her lesson not to pry anymore when you seem close to the edge, that doesn’t diminish her worry as your friend. 

It’s slower as the day continues, the sun beginning to set and paint the sky with pretty shades of orange. She’s cleaning the tables, humming a small tune when the ding from above the door sounds. 

Like clockwork, she stops her cleaning and goes behind the register, planting a customer service smile. “Hello, welcome in.”

The man smiles back, though his seems more fake. Stepping upfront in front of her, looking over the menu placed above. He hums and talks his chin with his pointer finger. “What do you recommend?”

“The cookie butter latte is our best seller,” Hana replies. 

He nods again, his feline eyes flickering back down to her own brown pair. “That sounds wonderful, can I have that?”

“Of course.” Hana taps the order into the screen of the register, looking back up. “Anything else?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” He smoothly says. 

Hana blinks in surprise, momentarily thrown off guard by the man's sudden compliment. She forces a smile, not quite sure how to respond. Compliments were part of the job, but this one felt a little too close for comfort. She can feel the warmth creeping up her neck as she tries to keep the conversation professional. "Thank you," she says, voice even and polite. "Anything else I can get for you today?"

The man tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Maybe just your name?"

She offers a small, practiced smile, hoping to keep things casual. "Hana," she replies, maintaining eye contact but not giving away too much. "Now, would you like anything to go with your latte?"

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning the pastries behind the counter. "A chocolate croissant, please."

"Great choice," she says, quickly adding it to the order. "That'll be all?"

"For now," he says with a slight nod, but there's something in his tone that makes her wonder if it's really the last time she'll hear from him today.

Hana nods. “And a name for the order?”

He pulls out a crisp total of one thousand yen. “Naoya.”

a/n: writing the "kiss" scene made me think back to a time I dodged my ex's kiss b4 we started dating and I felt so embarrassed for him

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[monstersholygrail]

Could you please do something with Ghostface and any Monster bf?

Your Tentacle Monster bf didn’t really know what the whole deal was over Ghostface or why people were going so wild for them. Especially you, his most precious human. What was so great about a black robe and a mask when you had dozens of tentacles at your disposal that could fill every single one of your holes? Each tentacle has the ability to fuck you absolutely brainless on their slick lengths and yet you go feral over this?

Tentacle Monster bf just doesn’t understand. He stands in the costume shop, a grimace on his face as he fiddles with the plastic bag holding the Ghostface costume. But he plucks it off the rack anyway. He’d do anything for you, and when he saw you like all those videos of other monster bfs getting dressed up as Ghostface, he wanted to be able to give you that too. In fact, he wanted to be the only monster you liked doing someone like this.

He figured it must be a human thing too based on the knowing look the cashier girl at the counter gave him. As she rung up his purchase she kept glancing at him, her grin growing wider. His tentacles wrap around himself more tightly, somehow feeling exposed under the girl’s all-seeing eyes. He quickly grabs his things as she hands him back the costume.

“Don’t forget to have fun with the chase! The fear is the best part,” the cashier girl calls out as he begins to walk out.

Tentacle Monster bf stops short in his tracks. He glances over his shoulders, features drawn tight in confusion. But the girl merely winks before looking down and messing around with the cash register. Just when he thinks he’s figured this whole thing out, a whole other twist comes along to sweep him off his feet.

A chase. Is that why people went so crazy over it? Is that what you wanted from him? A wicked smile begins to overtake his features as he steps out of the shop. He could chase you… Oh, he could definitely chase you. A shiver of anticipation courses through him at the thought.

Standing outside your shared home, your Tentacle Monster bf situates his costume and puts the finishing touches on it beside the mask. He thought it would be best to surprise you with it. It would make it more fun!

Walking up he knocks on the door, not bothering to use his key. He hears no response from you despite knowing you’re home. He knocks again, a little harder this time. This time you call out his name, wondering if he’s lost his keys. He doesn’t answer now but knocks again, even harder. He imagines the tension growing within you, and how it’ll burst into a sea of arousal the moment you see him.

A second later the door swings open, revealing your wary face. Seeing its only your bf, relief starts to pour over your form. That is until you see what your Tentacle Monster is wearing and you pause, eyes widening. Your bf flashes you a grin that all fang.

“Get ready to run, baby,” he growls and slips the mask over his face.

Realization dawns on you quickly and you immediately turn and bolt down the hall. Tentacle Monster bf feels the thrill of the chase shoot down his spine and he snarls as he runs after you throughout the house.

Your body grows hot as you run from room to room. And it isn’t the exorcise but the arousal blossoming and coursing through your veins. Your core pulses with need as you loop around a bend, feeling your bf gaining speed and closing in on you. Letting out a fierce shriek you bolt into the living room. The chilling roar your bf releases as sparks shooting straight down to where you need him most. You don’t know what made your bf do this but god are you glad for it. You always fantasized about being chased but you didn’t know it would be this damn hot.

Just as you’re about to pass the couch, your bfs tentacle shoot out and curl around your ankles. You release a mix of a yelp and a moan as he forcefully swings you onto the couch, the furniture sliding back with the momentum. Tentacle Monster bf growls as he quickly mounts you, ducking his head close to your neck. Your holes clench around nothing as the Ghostface mask invades your space, terror and arousal building higher within in.

Tentacle Monster bf doesn’t say a word and it only makes everything that much more intense. All you can hear are his throaty growls and harsh breaths. More of his tentacle slip past the costume robe and up your legs. Before you can even adjust to the tantalizing sensation, your bf slams, not one, but two of his tentacles deep inside you with a solid stroke. A fierce scream echos off the walls, your back arching as he immediately begins pounding away at you.

Gasps and moans spill from your lips uncontrollably. You weakly try and meet his thrusts but it’s like something’s taken over him as your bf ruthlessly plunges his tentacles as deep inside you as they can go. Your eyes roll back as he keeps adding more, stretching you beyond the limits of what you thought you could take.

Tentacle Monster snarls at you as you keep trying to move. More of his tentacles whip out and wrap around your limbs, pinning them down on the couch. Forcing you to take what he gives you. And you love it. Your body in a constant stats of ecstasy. The never ending pleasure has you shaking as his merciless thrusts bring you closer to the edge.

He continues to pound away into your sloppy hole, the loud squelch of your bodies meeting only turns you on more. When you finally cum on his tentacles, clenching around him tightly, you swear for a moment you see white. A silent scream leaving you. And Tentacles Monster bf just keeps going, working you through one of the most intense orgasms of your life. He follows you in release after a few more erratic thrusts of his tentacles and you moan weakly as you feel them spurt his hot cum deep inside you.

His tentacles stay nestled in deep inside you as he collapses on your spent form. You reach up and carefully slip off his mask, warmth filling you as you can see his face again. Contentment washes over you both as the adrenaline of the chase begins to fade.

“I think I like this human tradition of dressing up in the costumes,” your bf rumbles, his tentacles twitching inside your hole, showing you just how much he likes it.

A soft moan leaves you and his tentacles move around a little more. You can’t help but chuckle, a dazed smile forming on your face as you realize you’re not gonna be going anywhere anytime soon.

[wandaslittlebird]

Confessing (Alternate)

Mean!Stepmom!Wanda x Pervy!Reader

After months of spying on your stepmother, you’re finally caught and made to confess far more than you’d expected.

CW: Non-consensual spying, underwear stealing and other nefarious acts, mentions of masturbation, stepmom/stepdaughter, intense questioning, dacryphilia (kinda), humiliation, spanking, mommy kink, accidental orgasm, arousal tasting, allusion of oral (W receiving)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: This is literally the exact same fic I posted yesterday but with a non g!p reader. The only things that have changed are the reader’s anatomy and the ending.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, still mostly naked from the long shower you’d just taken. You stood up on your tippy toes in order to highlight the main attraction: your new lacy thong underwear.

You’d stolen them from your stepmother Wanda's wardrobe earlier while she was busy making dinner. When you’d found them, you just knew you had to have them.

It was the first time you’d ever stolen her panties to wear, and the act both scared and aroused you. It was one of the boldest moves you’d ever made in your months of silent admiration of Wanda.

Not to say that the stuff you’d been doing up until this was innocent or tame, by any means. This was just the furthest you’d ever pushed the envelope.

It’s not that you wanted to get caught, per se, but the risk was enticing. It was sort of like exhibitionism. The risk of being in public added excitement, but that didn’t mean you wanted to get arrested for public indecency.

“Honey! Dinner’s ready!” Wanda’s voice cut off your thoughts from the dining room.

You frowned, not ready to get dressed quite yet. Nonetheless, you shouted from the bathroom, “I’ll be down in a second!” before slipping on your plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt. It’s fine. You’d be nice and quick with dinner, then you could slip away to the privacy of your room for the rest of night. You had a better mirror in there anyway: a full body one that would solve this tip toe problem. Maybe you could even put on a bit of a fashion show for yourself, trying on all of your favorite bras and deciding which one made for the best set.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask your excitement. It was going to be a perfect night. All you had to do was make it through dinner first.

You walked nervously down the stairs into the dining room where you found Wanda dishing out pasta onto each of your plates. She offered you a gentle smile upon arrival. “Oh good, you made it. I was worried for a second there you’d make me eat alone. Just pasta tonight, nothing fancy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem at all,’” you assured. “Anything you make will surely be delicious.” You tried to offer her the same smile she’d offered you, but it came out awkward and uneven. It was clear you were nervous. You cursed yourself for your inability to hide your feelings from her.

She tilted her head in slight confusion. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I… uh… yeah I’m fine. I must’ve just taken a really hot shower,” you attempted to explain. She clearly wasn’t buying it. You shrank back in your chair a little bit. While it was sexy, the thin cut of the underwear wasn’t exactly comfortable. You shifted around as the fabric crept up into uncomfortable places.

“Are you sure?” she asked, unconvinced. “Let me feel your head.” She leaned over the table, giving you a clear view down the front of her shirt. Fuck. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath her blouse. You inhaled shakily, shifting even more obviously as you felt yourself grow wet at the sight of her.

She touched your head with the back of her hand. Her brows furrowed in confusion as your uncomfortable wiggling became more pronounced. “Darling, you seem terribly restless. What’s going on?” She was starting to catch on, at least, to the fact you were keeping something from her. Though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, she was certain she could get it out of you. You were never very good at keeping secrets, especially not from her.

You scooted your chair backwards, determined to escape this situation as quickly as possible. “I… uh… Actually I am feeling a bit poorly. I better go up to my room.” You made a move to try and get up, but she grabbed your wrist before you could escape.

You turned to let her and you were met with a glare that nearly made you crumble. She looked at you like she was looking into your soul, like she was some sort of omnipotent goddess that already knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep. “Honey,” she said, voice even and emotionless, “I think we need to have a talk.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed back down into your seat. “I’m sorry, mommy,” you whispered tearfully. How could she possibly know? Did she see something by accident?

She smiled knowingly. She had you now. That poor little head of yours couldn’t come up with a lie right now no matter how hard you tried. She circled the table and squatted down next to your chair, squeezing your hand and soothingly rubbing your temple with her thumb. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s not mad. I just need you to tell me what happened, okay? It’s okay, you can tell mommy.”

You swallowed. So she didn’t know. If you played your cards right, you could still make it out of this. Subconsciously, you crossed your legs, squeezing them tightly together to hide yourself from her. It was a painfully obvious move, but her soft voice and her hand on your head were making it so very hard to think clearly.

Wanda smirked and ran her hand up the side of your hip. Whatever you were hiding was somewhere in here.

Her hand slid over the fabric of your baggy pajama pants. Oddly enough, she couldn’t feel any underwear underneath the pants. Your secret wasn’t just that you weren’t wearing underwear, was it? No. As her hand got further up your waist, she felt them. It was different from anything she’d ever known you to wear. The fabric didn’t make its way around your waist until it was up over your hip bones.

“Honey,” she said calmly. “What are you wearing under your pajamas?”

Your mouth went dry and you froze, unsure how to answer her question. You decided it was best to play dumb. “W-what do you mean? Underwear.”

“Oh come on now darling,” she said, voice soft but slightly perturbed. “You know what I’m talking about. What underwear are you wearing right now?”

Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze at all cost. She wasn’t going to check if you lied, was she? “Just my… white cotton ones.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, unconvinced. “Do you mind if I lift up your shirt so I can make sure?”

Your hands flew to your waist, pinning your shirt to your body. “I… uh… I don’t feel comfortable showing you my underwear.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed with your evasiveness. She had started to believe that her soft mommy act wasn’t going to cut it, if she really wanted you to confess. “Darling, I’ve seen you in your panties countless times before. Hell, I probably bought you those underwear. Why are you getting so bashful all the sudden?”

You curled up tighter. You knew she was on to you by this point, but the humiliation of revealing yourself was too much. “I just… I don’t wanna show you, okay?” Your bottom lip quivered, tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Wanda stood up, pushing your chair back until it hit the wall. You gasped, looking up at her, frightened as she loomed over you menacingly. “Alright, darling. If you can’t be a good girl and tell mommy what’s going on, I’m going to have to pull you over my lap, push your pants down to your ankles, and spank you in whatever panties you’re wearing, okay? So I’ll ask you one more time. What. Underwear. Are. You. Wearing. Right. Now?”

Your eyes went wide. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your entire body started to shake as you stared up at her, frozen. Her gaze was harsh now, face unmoving as she waited on an answer.

Finally the dam broke. A cry ripped from your throat and tears poured down your face. You crumbled to pieces underneath her. “I’m not wearing my underwear, I’m wearing yours! I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have done it. And I know I shouldn’t have lied! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sobbed.

She shrunk back down, squatting again on the floor in front of you. She could hardly hide the pleasure she got from watching you shake and sob underneath her. She took your hand in hers, wiping away your tears. “See, baby? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You melted into her hand. You were truly hers now. No more lying, no more games. No more thoughts in your precious little head aside from “do exactly what mommy tells you to do”. Any resistance you had had melted away.

“Can you tell mommy why you were wearing her panties, sweetheart?” She asked softly.

“I wanted to be pretty,” you cried weakly. “Like you.”

Wanda tilted her head. You had plenty of underwear of your own. She even let you get the fancy stuff sometimes. Certainly your own underwear collection was more expansive than hers. “Were your own pretty panties not working for you? You just had to steal some of mommy’s?”

You nodded. Your head was so jumbled it felt like the confessions were spilling out of you. “I see you through the door sometimes, when you’re getting dressed. You just look so… perfect with your matching bras and panties,��� you confessed.

“You see me through the door?” She asked, noting how you had said ‘see’ rather than ‘watch’. “Do you spy on mommy while she’s naked? Do you watch me when I change my clothes?”

Your head lulled to the side. “No! …yes… sometimes.” You confessed, getting quieter with each statement.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised and amused by your unswerving honesty. She’d known, of course, about your little habits. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. However, having you blubbering under her, confessing every little thing you’d ever done, brought her immense satisfaction.

She ran her hand up your upper thigh again, lightly tracing shapes with her fingers. “How long have you been spying on mommy, huh?”

You sighed, feeling the wet spot on the underwear grow. Her touch was so memorizing you nearly forgot to answer the question. She pulled her hand away, grabbing your face and raising her eyebrows expectantly. You snapped out of your haze. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it started! Please! I promise I’m not a naughty girl!”

Her hand moved up to your hair, gently wiping it from her face. Her rapid switching from gentle to harsh was making your head spin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not mad. You’re doing a very good job being honest with me.” She leaned forward, so close you could feel her breath against your ear. “How does it make you feel, watching me in my room like that? Watching me change my clothes and seeing my pretty lingerie?”

“G-good,” you answered hazily. “I just… I like to see, sometimes.”

She was slowly climbing up your body, almost in your lap now. “You just like to see sometimes, hmm?” She repeated. “Is that all?”

“Sometimes I-I like to… um… to-touch my… in the hallway while I watch,” you confessed, too scared and hazy to lie to her anymore.

A faint smile grew on her lips. She could hardly believe how vulnerable she’d made you. She’d never quite seen you like this before. “That’s quite naughty of you, darling. You can’t just touch yourself in the hallway like that. Someone could catch you, you know.”

“Dad almost… one time he saw… but he didn’t know what I was doing and I pretended I was waiting on you.”

She sat on your knees, rubbing soothing circles on your collarbones and shoulders. “Dad almost caught you, huh? And what were you doing, exactly?”

“Just… rubbing… on the outside. I didn’t have my h-hands in my pants or anything,” you stammered.

She leaned forward again, moving her hands down to your hips. “That was a very very naughty thing to do, little girl. I better not catch you rubbing yourself in the hallway again.”

You shook your head. “It will never happen again! I promise!”

She grabbed your face again, significantly softer now that she’d already broken you. She simply lifted your chin to look her in the eyes. “No more lying, darling. I want to know the truth. Are you going to stop spying on me?”

You nodded frantically, determined to never find yourself in this situation again. “Never! I swear!”

“Good girl,” she cooed. She gently rubbed your cheek with her thumb. “And no more stealing my underwear, agreed?”

You nodded again, driven to yet another confession you hadn’t planned on making. “No more! And no more stealing the dirty ones either. I won’t even snoop again! I promise!”

“Oh?” Wanda purred, “So you’ve been stealing my dirty panties too? Not just the clean ones?” Once again, she had been noticing her panties in your laundry instead of hers for months now. She was under no illusion that they were ending up there accidentally.

“This… this was the first time I stole any clean ones! I’ve never worn them before either!” You defended.

She hummed softly, pretending to ponder your confession. “Hmm. And what, exactly, do you do with my dirty panties?”

“I just… smell,” you confessed. “Some I use them to… t-touch myself with.”

“You use them when you touch yourself?” She asked, her voice still gentle and sweet. She ran her hands through your hair with an air of possession.

You nodded. “One time I had… I had a taste. But just one time!”

She chuckled smugly. “Oh?” She smirked down at you. “You took a taste, huh? Just once?”

You nodded. You were so terribly embarrassed. You wanted to throw yourself into her and beg her for forgiveness, but you doubted it would help.

“And how did I taste, darling?” She asked.

You moaned a little at the memory, hips bucking up as you felt yourself grow even wetter. “Really g-good. I’d never… finished that much before.”

“Aww,” she chuckled again. “Did you cum really hard when you tasted mommy?”

You nodded. Her hands traced light patterns on your hips, making their way to your stomach. “Just from a little taste?” She asked again, egging you on for more details.

“I… it kinda sprayed everywhere,” you explained. “I’ve never done that before.”

You were so wet now, you’d soaked through both the thin fabric of the underwear and your pants, leaving a wet spot on your chair. Wanda looked down at the spot and smirked smugly.

“It looks like maybe you enjoyed it, huh?” She lightly traced the waistband of your pants, getting close but not quite touching the wet parts of the fabric.

You whimpered and bucked your hips up, trying to get her hand closer to where you needed it. “Y-yeah. I didn’t know it could… happen like that.”

Wanda hummed, pondering your words. “Yeah, sweetheart. It happens like that sometimes when you feel really really good.”

You nodded, still sniffling. The whole ordeal had you beyond embarrassed, yet you noticed that your arousal persisted through the embarrassment. Perhaps it was even worsened by it.

“Can-can I go to my room?” You stuttered. You had to get out of here, to somewhere more private before your humiliation and arousal bubbled over.

“Aww, sweetheart,” she cooed with fake sympathy. “Did you really think after all of this I would just let you go to your room?”

Your eyes went wide with terror. There was only so much more of this you could withstand before disaster struck. “B-but you said you weren’t mad!”

“I’m not mad, honey,” she reassured. “But what you’ve done was very very naughty, isn’t it?”

You nodded, another wave of tears threatening to fall.

“And when little girls do naughty things they have to be punished, don’t they?” She said, affectionately combing through your hair.

You nodded again, whimpering under her gentle touch. “But you’ll go easy on me, right? Because I was a good girl and I was honest and I told you everything?”

She chuckled. Your description wasn’t exactly accurate, but she couldn’t help but take at least a little pity on you. You had confessed in the end, even if it took a little pushing. “Of course, baby,” she soothed. “Now go upstairs and wait for mommy. I want you over the end of the bed in nothing but mommy’s panties, okay?”

You nodded frantically, running up the stairs and assuming the position as soon as she got off your lap.

She chuckled, amused by your eager obedience, and boxed up the pasta she’d made so she could easily heat it back up after this was over.

It only took her about five minutes to make her way up to the bedroom, but to you, bent naked over the edge of the bed, it felt like hours.

You had to fight to keep your head down on the mattress when you heard her open the bedroom door. You whined as you watched her pull the wooden hairbrush from her nightstand. “No mommy! Please not the hairbrush! Please I was so honest and-and I answered all of your questions-“

She cut you off by rubbing gentle circles on the swell of your ass. “Shshsh,” she soothed. “Mommy’s only doing this because she loves you, okay? I have to remind my sweet girl what happens when she’s naughty so she’ll remember to be a good girl, right?”

You whimpered and squirmed under her, trying to be patient and still but also desperate to get away from the hairbrush. The thin fabric of the underwear offered you little to no protection.

“I want you to count for me, okay?” She instructed. “If you can keep count like a good girl, we’ll only do 15, but if I have to count for you, I’m gonna have to do 25, okay?”

You nodded, determined to be good and keep count. However, you weren’t traditionally known for keeping a clear head during your punishment. “Can-can I hold onto a pillow, please?”

You couldn’t see your face, but the tears in your voice made it hard for her to deny you anything. “Of course, baby,” she said, pulling a pillow from the headboard and tucking it into your arms. She kissed the side of your teary face. “Mommy loves you very much, princess. It’ll be over soon.”

She tapped your ass twice with the hairbrush before placing the first smack firmly on your left cheek. You cried out, wailing more with overwhelming embarrassment than pain.

“One!”

She hit you again with perfect precision in almost the exact same spot.

“T-two”

She switched sides, smacking you again on the other cheek.

“Three!”

You made it to seven before you inevitably lost count. She waited for a moment after the strike before she decided your wailing was not going to give way to a number, and she officially started counting herself.

By ten, you had resorted to begging. You knew better than to flail and kick your legs, she’d have you pinned over her lap with a far worse punishment in store, but you were allowed to cry and plead all you wanted. “Please mommy! Please, I'll be good. I learned my lesson mommy please no more!”

You sounded so pathetic she was tempted to have mercy on you. You weren’t even halfway through your punishment now that she’d pushed it to 25. But she would stick to her word. That was, after all, what was most important when it came to discipline.

It wasn’t even so much the pain, you were trying to escape, but something far more alarming that boiled in your lower belly. Having her, a commanding force over you was awakening something in you. The humiliation of a confession, matched with wearing her underwear and being spanked like a child over her bed had a coil building in your lower stomach.

By 15 spanks, you realized it was inevitable. You were pleading with her more quietly now. Your hips bucked against the bed in what she thought was an attempt to get away, but by the 20th spank the coil snapped. In a humiliating display of desperation, you came, all over the sheets.

She stopped spanking you, taking a second to realize what just happened. “Did you just…?”

You wailed into the pillow, burying your face into it until it nearly suffocated you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry mommy I didn’t mean to! I’ll clean it up! I promise! Please no more spankings mommy! Please, I'll be a good girl!”

Wanda laughed sadistically. “Good girls don’t have little accidents when their mommies spank them, do they?”

Your voice trembled. You could hardly breathe. “N-no.”

Wanda tapped your sore ass twice with the hairbrush. It hurt worse than when she’d done it earlier. “Get up, sweetheart.”

Reluctantly, you got up, standing naked at the foot of the bed next to a clothed and composed Wanda. Every bone in your body wanted to run out of the room, but her intimidating demeanor had you locked in place.

She grabbed the back of your hair roughly, causing you to gasp. “Do you like it when mommy spanks your little ass?” She asked.

“N-no,” you whimpered.

“Really?” She asked before roughly pushing your face down until it was hanging just above the mess you’d left on the bed. “It sure looks like you did. Tell mommy the truth. Do you like it when I spank you?”

You whined, tears falling from your face and mixing with your cum. “Yes! Yes I like it when you spank me! Please mommy!”

“Lick it up,” she commanded.

“W-what?” You stuttered. She couldn’t seriously be asking for what you thought she was asking.

“You heard me. Lick. It. Up.” She repeated. “If you wanna make a little mess on my sheets, you're gonna clean it up yourself.”

You stuck out your tongue, licking the cum from the mattress. It was disgustingly salty, mixed with the tears that were continually streaming into it. You sobbed in embarrassment. You were certain you’d never been more humiliated in your life. Yet, you still felt your arousal growing.

“Oh?” She said, presumably noticing the arousal still building between your legs. “Is my little girl enjoying this too? Do you like it when mommy gets rough with you?”

Deciding this couldn’t get any worse, you just nodded.

Her grip on your hair loosened, switching instead to a soft stroking. “That’s a good girl,” she praised.

She gently pulled you back up from the mattress when she deemed it sufficiently clean. She pulled you to face her. “Let mommy have a taste.”

You hesitantly parted your lips, slowly meshing them with hers. She hummed contentedly, running her tongue along your own.

You grabbed her by the back of the neck, losing yourself in her. You stopped caring that you were naked and sobbing and pathetic.

Her hand fell from your hair to your chest. She pushed you backwards so hard you crashed on to your back on the mattress.

She crawled on top of you, kissing you again. You could feel her hands reach down to unbutton her jeans. You moaned into her mouth as her smooth bare legs met yours.

She straddled your waist, breaking the kiss to crawl further up your body.

“If just a taste from my panties made you squirt before,” she started, “I wondered what I can make you do with the real thing.”

[flowerandblood]

White Marriage (2)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: fingering, virginity loss, sex content, poetic smut, angst, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After their nuptials, the court becomes even more divided. The King, however, wishes to spend the last years of his life experiencing the joys he finds in the closeness of his wife. His bride was never to lose her maidenhood, however, is what the King has proclaimed to his subjects what he really craves? ]

Author’s Note: After the warm reception of the first part, which I didn't expect at all, here is the second part of their story! I have to admit that I had a great time writing it and I love them. I tried to leave some realism and not forget about his illness and the fact that it is contagious.

Part Two of Paradise Fruit. Can be read as a standalone story.

Word count: 4.600

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Their nuptials were humble – apart from the Archbishop, who gave them his blessing, uniting them for eternity, they were accompanied only by Sibylla and her husband, enraged, thinking that the King was just fulfilling his sneaky plan.

He truly believed that he would have exposed her to such danger, condemning her to the cruel disease that tormented his members to try to beget an heir.

She was grateful to her Princess for lending her one of her beautiful, gold-embellished robes that day – Sibylla knew what purpose this marriage was intended to serve and that it would not change the order of succession.

She was to be his comfort, a moment of relief and solace, nothing more.

Nevertheless, she smiled, feeling happiness filling her heart, her king's gaze tender and full of affection, from which she felt warmth in her chest.

She thought that she had fallen in love with him.

Their marriage was announced to all and sundry, and she became a king's wife, but not a queen.

She was not bothered by this.

She was assigned a chamber right next to his – she could now visit him whenever she wished and did not have to worry about the King's honour.

As she walked into his quarters, clad only in a thin night robe, a smile of happiness adorned her face. Baldwin, though tired, also seemed pleased and rose at the sight of her.

"Wife." He said, entwining his hands behind his back.

His figure was all clad in white as usual, though the material of his wardrobe seemed thicker to her, a silver mask on his face.

To her surprise she noticed that his gloves were black, apparently made of leather.

She bowed to him, recognising that she was not intending to think about it now.

"My King. My husband. You are the man of your word." She whispered warmly, looking up at him from above her long lashes, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen meeting his gaze, hot and dark.

"I am." He replied. "I couldn't deny myself this pleasure. It was an act of my selfishness, not my greatness."

She blinked, cocking her head, feeling for some reason amused by his words.

"Does it matter now?" She asked lightly – something flashed across his gaze, she thought he smiled.

"No. Not in the slightest."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his orders – he had announced that because of his disease he would not take her maidenhood and their marriage would be white, however, after what had gone on between them earlier, she did not think her husband would want to remain an ascetic in every aspect.

"Let me see you." He said finally, his voice like a sigh.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he wanted – she could see it in his gaze. Her hands rose to the small knot above her breasts, untying it, slipping the thin material of her nightgown off her shoulders in a light, gentle motion, remaining bare before him.

She shuddered, feeling the chill of the chamber surround her body despite the flames burning in the fireplace beside her, her lips parted as she noticed her king's gaze shift, misty and filled with a familiar, hot desire.

For a moment he looked at her with his head tilted, as if he was simply admiring her, nothing more.

"My physicians have said that the leather material, as opposed to linen, will ensure that you are protected from the touch of my bare skin and what it may cause." He said, tentatively extending his hand to her, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chest with joy.

She could touch him.

They both drew in a loud breath as she placed her fingers on his palm, letting him pull her a little closer, the spot between her thighs all swollen with desire, slowly growing moist with her wetness.

Her lips parted with her gasp of surprise as his other hand touched her cheek – she snuggled her face into it, placing affectionate kisses of her lips on it.

"I would give all the treasures of this chamber, my possessions and my gold coins to feel the taste of your lips on mine." He gasped, looking at her as if she were a precious jewel, a spring water that quenches thirst, an olive tree that feeds whole nations.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the sizzling fire and their hitched breaths as his thumb ran over her full, lower lip. She parted it before him and let him slide it deeper, between her teeth. Her lips clamped slowly around his finger, looking up at him with desire as she began to suck.

A low groan escaped his throat at the sight, clearly imagining that he was forcing something completely different down her throat.

He placed his other hand on her back, at the same time pulling her closer and holding her at arm's length, apparently afraid that even his breath was dangerous to her, possibly dooming her to his fate.

She moaned when he gave in, when his mask pressed against her forehead, his eyelids all red around his bright pupils.

"– forgive me –"

She didn't know why his words, filled with so much sadness and desire, made her throw her hands on his shoulders, her lips clinging greedily to the unpleasantly cold, silver structure of his mask.

She closed her eyes, hearing his gasp of surprise, placing lingering, hot kisses full of her saliva and tongue on the surface of it, imagining he was able to feel it, his hands sinking into her hair.

"– touch me, husband – I crave you –" She mewled helplessly, running her hands over the material beneath which was his head, his hair, his jaw and neck.

She squealed when he lifted her suddenly by her buttocks, the quiet hiss that escaped his lips made her understand that this sudden movement must have caused him pain.

She stroked the back of his head as he moved towards his bed with his face nestled between her breasts, not wanting to show him any sympathy now that he wanted to be a strong man in her eyes.

He let out a breath as he laid her down on the soft sheets, his gaze full of tenderness as he looked at her face.

"– lie on your stomach and spread your thighs –" He said calmly and gently, however, something in his words and their undertone made her feel a heat in her lower abdomen and a wonderful tickling sensation.

She obeyed his command immediately, feeling her legs become stiff as he caught her around the waist and lifted her hips, forcing her to buck her buttocks in front of him in a shameless manner.

She heard his heavy breath as he positioned himself behind her on his knees, running his leather-gloved hands over the soft skin of her buttocks, herself panting hard, knowing where he was looking now.

"– the reason why Paris abducted Helen of Troy – the cause of the downfall and delight of all mankind locked deep between my wife's thighs –" He whispered in such a sensual way that she moaned pathetically, clenching her eyelids as his thumb ran over her leaking, throbbing womanhood.

Apparently he liked the sound she made, because one of his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place, reassuring him that she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness and try to expose him in an act of pleasure, endangering him and herself.

"– lie still – shhhh, my love –" He whispered, hearing her innocent cry of desperation as his fingers began to trail around her oversensitive, swollen bud, waves of tingling and tickling sensations spreading through her body dulling her mind, causing her to emit uncontrollable sounds.

She could hear him panting as she watched what he was doing to her, his fingers digging into her delicate folds with a loud click of her wetness, barely teasing her – her hips began to roll back and forth, responding to his treatments, trying to find a better source of rubbing.

"– have mercy on me –" She mumbled with difficulty, her lips parted wide in a girlish moan when, at her request, the tip of his middle finger burst into her fleshy, hot interior.

The experience was at once full of discomfort and delight – at first the material of his glove was cold, but in time her body temperature enveloped him with its heat.

"– God – so warm –" He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion, in some involuntary, primitive reflex forcing her to take his finger deeper inside her, meeting resistance.

"– yes or no –" He breathed out, making her gasp.

Yes or no.

She froze, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, knowing that he had lied: he had only declared their marriage as white so that after his death his sister's husband would not attempt to kill her out of fear that she might be carrying his heir.

The future King.

"– yes –"

Her fingers clenched on the fabric of the sheet beneath her as he pierced something inside her in one aggressive motion, along with her squeal taking her maidenhood.

She began to wriggle under him with sweet whimpers of delight as his first finger was joined by a second, opening her wide for him only to fuck her before his eyes.

Tears of pleasure and shock ran down her cheeks as she moaned like a mere whore, spreading her thighs wider, his fingers thicker and longer than hers, stretching her so wonderfully.

"– please –" She whimpered, responding with her hips to each thrust of his hand, the tips of his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside her with startling precision again and again, while his thumb teased her little pearl between her folds with reluctance.

She bucked up more, panting loudly along with him, feeling the drops of her own wetness begin to run down her thighs one by one, soaking his hand, the fingers of his free palm clenched in her hair.

"– go on – please your King –" He commanded in a low voice from which her weeping cunt clenched around his fingers in convulsions of ecstasy, the sweet, stupefying pleasure making her cry out loudly, her legs bent at the knees quivering all over from the exertion.

"– a-ah –" She mumbled out, her face red with emotion as her body shook with a fulfilment so strong that her leaking, hot walls began to simply suck him inside. He felt it and moaned in a boyish manner, stopping moving, keeping his two fingers slipped deep into her body, just wanting to feel how it pulsed around them.

"– yes – just like that – easy now – easy –" He praised her, slowly sliding them out of her, and she swallowed hard, letting her body fall back onto the bed, panting loudly.

She sighed as he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs, looking at her with eyes black with desire, his hand slipped under the material of his robe.

Only then did she notice that his garment had a slit in the area underneath where his manhood was.

Although he had not allowed her to look at it then, now that he had grasped it in his hand and directed it at her throbbing womanhood, she saw the fat, pink head of it, dripping with his desire.

His hand clamped down on her soft breast, careful, however, not to cause her pain as he began to squeeze his swollen erection in his palm, with sharp, aggressive strokes from the very base to the tip chasing his fulfilment.

She moaned innocently, surprised, tilting her head back as his thumb ran over her hard, sensitive nipple, playing with it, something like satisfaction flashed through his gaze when he saw that this kind of touch was giving her pleasure.

"– my wife is so eager – so devoted to her poor husband – hm? –" He gasped, his breathing heavy as he accelerated, already squeezing only the base of his manhood, rocking his hips back and forth, struggling to restrain himself from opening her up, from sinking into her, from feeling her.

She rolled her hips forward encouragingly, rubbing her moist cunt against the thick head of his erection, drawing a low, almost animalistic groan from his throat, his silhouette moving slightly away.

"– no –" He growled with pain and anger, involuntarily returning again and again to her warmth, letting the tip of it push against her swollen, thirsty slit.

"– please, my King – put inside me –" She begged, but he shook his head and simply came with a loud moan of pleasure, his pearly, sticky spend spewing onto her womanhood.

He stared at this shameless sight, his head bowed low, his breath heavy as if he had just accomplished some heroic feat.

"– you need to bathe in hot water – immediately – dress yourself, I'll call the servants –" He exclaimed, rising abruptly from the bed, covering his manhood back with his robe, wiping his hand sticky with her wetness into its material.

She stood up quickly, horrified that he was surely angry with her for not listening to him, hastily dressing her nightgown over her shoulders, bursting into sobs.

"– forgive me, my King – forgive me, do not send me away –" She begged, but he did not listen to her, ordering his servant to immediately bring the tub into his chamber and fill it with hot water.

Although it slightly burned her skin when she stepped inside, her husband-king explained that the heat killed whatever was spreading his disease, and the oils and herbs that were thrown in were to prevent any other infections.

She looked at him with big eyes as he sat beside her, dipping his leather-gloved hand into the water along with a piece of cloth, sinking it then between her thighs, making sure not a single drop of his seed remained on it.

"– will you forgive me, my beloved? –" She muttered pleadingly, watching his face. He looked at her with a chastising look and sighed heavily.

"– it is I who should beg your forgiveness – I have allowed myself to be carried away by my desires, which have suppressed my reason – do not fear, it will not happen again – after your bath you will return to your chamber and will no longer visit me in the evenings –" He said calmly, looking away.

Her heart stopped in her throat, her brow arching in pain and disbelief at his words.

"Are you sending me away?" She muttered with difficulty. He looked at her, surprised apparently by her question and reaction, his hand froze in mid-motion.

"You can't sleep here because I am here. My breath, my proximity are deadly. I am exposing you even now. Before sleep, my physicians pull off most of the fabric that covers my body. I will never let you see this." He said and swallowed hard, seeing as tears one by one began to run down her cheeks.

"You break my heart. At least let my bed be placed next to yours. Drape it with curtains so that I may not see you or your body at night, but that I may at least hear your voice, hear your presence in the same chamber." She said pleadingly, touching his beautiful silver mask with her hand, his gaze tired and sad, filled with pain.

He hesitated.

"The chamber is not locked. Place my bed by the windows, by the fresh air. Do not condemn me to solitude, show me mercy, my King." She whispered, once again placing a kiss on his mask, on his cold, silver lips, his sigh testifying that he pressed his lips on the other side, reciprocating her caress.

"You are my doom."

At his command, her bed was moved to his chamber, raising voices full of resentment from some of the monks and priests, commenting on the fact that her maidenhood might be called into question.

"White marriage, to my knowledge, does not mean that husband and wife live separately. On the contrary, we should indulge in prayers together and be each other's comfort by day and night."

Honour Knights and Lords were concerned about what kind of comfort his little wife was to him.

Each day, the physicians sent by King Saladin checked the condition of her body and whether there were any signs of infection – her husband watched it from the sidelines in horror, relief in his gaze each time he heard from their lips that his wife was in good health.

However, taking advantage of the fact that the King had left the chamber after her examination, returning to his duties, one of his medics approached her, pale.

"My Lady. Spending so much time in the King's company, you will certainly contract his disease. Often its first symptoms do not appear until years after infection. It is possible that it is already too late." He muttered, bowing before her.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him calmly, feeling discomfort in her stomach.

"Would my husband live to see the time when the first symptoms could be apparent? If it turned out I was infected." She mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No, my Lady."

She smiled at his words and nodded.

"Thank you. Assure my King that I am well and can abide with him as before."

The man looked at her, in his eyes disbelief but at the same time a kind of admiration, compassion and warmth from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"My Lady."

The days in Jerusalem were often sunny and hot, and as her husband rejoiced at the sight of her bare body, she walked around his chambers naked, feeling like a Greek goddess, Aphrodite or Artemis.

She would read old volumes, play the lute or embroider while spreading out comfortably on large cushions so that he could see her, and he would admire her from afar like a nymph.

"– my wife is like a fruit of paradise – like a goddess born of the sea foam –" He murmured, looking at her contentedly, bent over the dozens of parchments spread out on his table.

The servants knew that they could not enter his quarters without permission, for although he was gentle and affectionate in his manner, he did not wish to share this shameless sight with anyone.

However, what most of their days consisted of were conversations.

Her husband was a great speaker – they were discussing the Bible, faith, philosophy, poetry, art, war and history for long hours.

At nights, when he couldn't sleep from his pain, hearing his sighs and quiet moans that he tried to suppress for her sake, she would ask him questions.

She couldn't touch his hands or embrace him – his body needed rest, to breathe to keep from rotting and for at least a few hours a day it was supposed to be uncovered.

"Christ says to the adulteress: go and sin no more. However, he knows, as God incarnate, that this is not his command, but a recommendation. Sin is the fatal disease of every human being and we all sin in thought, in speech, in deed, in neglect. This is no reason to be sad. Christ is merely saying: live in such a way as not to cause yourself or others suffering, try to live with dignity, in harmony with yourself and your Father in Heaven."

"Is it known what happened to her afterwards?" She asked quietly, looking at his silhouette, seeing only its outline on the other side of his bed.

"Some identify her with Mary Magdalene or Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. But it could also have been a person not mentioned by name in the Gospel. She certainly followed Christ and became one of his disciples." He said, his voice clearer without his mask, calm and soft.

"Do you think God considers me an adulteress?" She asked in a trembling voice and heard him shift restlessly in his bed.

"Why should such an unjust and harsh judgment fall on my wife? Because she is devoted to me with her soul, heart and body? Haven't you done everything I asked of you and even more? You are as pure as the sheet I lie on, as the delicate fabrics I wear on my skin. Your beauty makes me even more aware of my ugliness." He whispered with pain that made her swallow hard, shocked by his words.

"To me, you are the most beautiful of men. Before I met you, I swore to God that I would never marry, that I would not share Sibylla's fate. He showed me mercy, filling my heart with a burning feeling for you, my beloved."

He was silent, but she heard him exhale loudly, his trembling sigh full of suffering.

He cried.

"If only you could look at my face, see what a disgusting caricature of a human I am, you would understand what a great mistake you made." He howled, choking on his own tears, clearly letting out what had been weighing on his heart for weeks.

The fear that if she accidentally saw his face, she would scream in terror and run away.

"Is your faith in me so weak? I hoped you think of me with respect." She mumbled, heartbroken, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She heard him swallow hard at her words, clearly terrified that he had offended her.

"I do, my love. Forgive me."

"I fell in love with a human, not an earthly shell." She said, but he didn't answer her.

She watched the silhouette of her husband and his physicians each evening through the curtains, seeing them only as through a fog in the candlelight, their shadows dancing around her.

She could hear his hisses and cries of pain as they treated his wounds, see the outline of his head, always with his back turned to her.

When they were finally left alone and he lay down on his bed, she heard his sigh of relief, his face, though she couldn't see it, turned towards her.

"My sweetest?" He whispered, and she smiled warmly, feeling a wonderful delight in her heart every time he called her that.

"I'm here, my love." She murmured, twisting comfortably in her bed.

"I desire you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her warm womanhood throb around nothing.

"I desire you too, my beloved."

They were both silent for a long moment, the tension around them palpable in the air.

"– one of my physicians –" He began in a trembling voice. "– at my request, he created something that I can – put on my length so as not to touch you directly – from what I understand, he made it from the intestine of some animal and disinfected it – he assured me that it would be safe for both of us, but –"

"– yes –" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like crazy at the thought that he wanted to do this to her.

"– you know it's a risk –" He said, his voice quivering with longing, the shadow of his silhouette turned towards her.

"– I knew it from the very beginning – I don't care what happens to my body – I just want to feel my beloved husband inside me –" She whispered with embarrassment and that seemed to be enough for him.

She heard him stand up, quickly putting the cloth and mask over his head as he appeared on the other side, beside her bed, looking as he usually did – the same black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers clenched on a small wooden box.

"– undress –" He commanded, and she did so, literally ripping off herself her nightgown, laying down on her stomach.

His silhouette was instantly next her, kneeling behind her buttocks, his breath hitched and quickened when she heard the rustling of something and another strange, sticky sound.

After a moment, his fingers tentatively and gently ran over her swollen, pink folds, collecting her wetness, which had already managed to trickle down her thigh.

"– no other treatments are needed – my sweet wife is leaking like a forest stream –" He hummed with delight and admiration, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment.

They both sighed as she felt something thick and hard begin to push against her puffy slit, opening her wide – despite her lack of preparation her cunt pulsed in delight, moist with desire.

The feeling of him deep inside her, so intense and definitive, of how hard his long, thick erection stretched her fleshy walls was shockingly pleasurable and terrifying at the same time, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

"– yes, yes, yes –" She mewled as she felt his hands clamp down on her buttocks, spreading them apart as if he were tearing a piece of fruit, another determined thrust of his hips sinking him completely into her hot core with their moans of pleasure.

"– fuck –"

She wasn't sure if he had ever cursed before, but then, as his hips immediately began to pound into her with loud slaps, nothing more than their panting, grunts and words insulting to God left his mouth.

"– we'll do it frequently – so that you can remember this feeling well – your husband deep inside your warmth –" He exhaled in a way from which her little cunt began to squeeze him greedily, sucking his erection inside, her lips parted wide in a loud, helpless whines of pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes, her hands clenched on the bedding.

His gloved fingers dug into the delicate structure of her hips, imposing a more aggressive pace on her, his fat manhood bursting deep between her fleshy walls without slipping out of her, hitting again and again her sweet little spot.

"– yes – yes, I love you, I love you, I love you, please –" She cried out, feeling the tension in her silky womanhood reach its zenith, the pleasant tingling in her belly testifying to the fact that she was about to reach her peak with him and dreamed of nothing else.

He moaned low, slamming into her like mad, feeling her weeping core clench around his twitching length more and more, his manhood hard as a rock with desire.

"– G-God – oh, fuck, yes, yes, my sweetest, let me, ah –" He gasped in delight, coming deep inside her, filling the thin material overlying his manhood with his release.

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted wide as her peak came down on her like a thunderbolt, shaking her body with convulsions of delicious delight.

They both moaned and panted, rocking their hips for a moment more with the loud click of her slick cunt, his hands soothingly kneading the skin of her buttocks.

"– I will order more of this to be prepared – so that I can fulfil my marital duty every night –" He sighed with satisfaction.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath, looking up at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining outside the window reflected in his mask.

"– what kind of white marriage is this? –" She asked teasingly, rolling her hips, feeling his half-soft manhood pulsate inside her again.

"– our kind – do not fret – I will explain it to God once I am before him – I will tell him that I loved my wife too much –"

_____

Author's note: Between their wedding day and this next act, weeks actually pass during which he doesn't touch her (she mentions the days spent in his company and how she is examined every day, how he watches her naked, but apart from that nothing happens between them). He is afraid that if he tries to touch her again, he won't hold back (he had already had difficulty not taking her on their wedding night), so he tried to think of something so as not to touch her directly with his manhood. Their intimacy is an act of their desperation, the pain of knowing that their marriage will last a year or two at most. The desire to touch her and feel her is as strong in him as the desire to protect her and push her away. Their love is tragic and complete to me, and she knows what she is risking (she knew from the very beginning).

[kingkat12]

seven minutes in hell (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, public sex(??), voyeurism, emotional extortion (Roman is such an ass omg), groping, foul language, smoking, angst, mentions of sex

summary: after you made out with Roman during a game of seven minutes in heaven, he insists that you owe him for not telling Letha about it-- how can someone so beautiful be so evil?

word count: 8,192 (yes I know lol)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: after having my inbox flooded w sweethearts asking for a part two, here you go!! I do advise new readers to read the first one before this, because idk how much sense this is going to make without it lol, but enjoy!!<33

Paranoia. That was the only word that could describe the week that followed the party where Roman and I had kissed.

I had spent every waking moment wondering when Roman would show up to cash in his debt or prick me with a goddamn needle. His words lingered in my mind, haunting me; "Fine, I'll be nice. But you owe me," The reminder of those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder how I could've been so stupid as to rope myself into something like this.

Roman knew I liked him. In fact, he knew it very well. I couldn't even mask my feelings with hatred anymore, and everything about that made me want to throw myself off a cliff-- that would probably be more merciful than whatever it was that I had in store. 

After we had made out during seven minutes of heaven, I had to tell my best friend, Letha, that nothing had happened. If she found out that I had made out with her cousin, I doubt she'd want to have me hanging around any longer. And quite frankly, Letha was my favourite person in the whole world, so it was detrimental that she stayed close. She was like a ray of sunshine peeking out through heaps of stormy skies; there was no way in hell I'd lose her without a fight.

Which is why I needed to keep Roman in check, along with my body un-pierced by any incoming needles. 

The first time I saw him after the party, was a few days later in the cafeteria at school. I had stopped in my tracks, completely turning to stone as I watched him with his friends. It was almost as though I was afraid he'd see me if I moved, and to my shock, that's exactly what happened-- as I shifted my weight from one foot to another, harshly gripping my tray of food, his eyes landed on me with a quickness that immediately threw me into a state of panic. I bolted with speed I didn't know I had, not stopping until I reached the other end of the school, panting. 

The second time had been at the library. I had been looking for a specific book that was quite old, meaning I had to do a lot of searching-- the librarian had been of no help, of course. As I scoured the shelves of endless books, crouching down to get a look at the lower sections, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me from above.

I looked up to find Roman's green eyes staring at me from the other aisle; his height made it ridiculously easy to lean over, having no visual obstruction of my side of the shelf. Something about the smirk playing across his lips made me freeze up-- it felt like I was prey, about to be eaten whole. I let out a squeak of horror as I grabbed the first book I saw, not letting him get a word in before I dashed towards the exit without a second thought.

The third time was the absolute worst; I had been walking down the stairs with Letha, on our way to our shared history class, as we suddenly encountered Roman on his way up. I felt my heart beat against the books I now pressed tightly against my chest, holding my breath as he neared us with a conniving look on his face-- I was quite sure I had lost all the blood in mine.

As Roman and Letha had a conversation about some sort of family dinner later, I did my best to make myself as small as possible; I wondered whether I should slip away into the crowd or just throw myself down the stairs. 

I was quite sure that it was clear to Roman why I was avoiding him, and I was even more sure that it also was amusing to him. It was rather obvious, with the way he obnoxiously eyed me up with a growing grin. "You okay?" he asked, nudging me. "You look spooked."

Asshole. Just the slightest touch was enough to make me flinch, and my words came out in a breathy mumble; "I'm fine," 

Roman nodded, exchanging a look with Letha. He grew taller when he took a step up, inching closer as he leaned over to check which books I had pressed up against my chest. His long, slender fingers reached forward to tug at one of the books to get a better look, and I would've missed the note he slipped down along the front of my history book if I had blinked. As Roman pulled away, dragging his fingers through his hair as though nothing had happened, I held my books as tight to my chest as I possibly could to not let the note slide down to the floor. 

My heart was beating harder than ever as Roman made his way past me, his familiar cologne lingering in my system as Letha and I made it to class five minutes early. As she left to use the bathroom, I could finally put away my things, inhaling a shaky breath as I checked the note;

meet me behind school in an hour, or I tell Letha everything

I couldn't help the groan that escaped me, ripping the piece of paper to shreds. This was not going to end well.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Somehow, I had managed to pry myself away from Letha for long enough to make it in time for my meeting with Roman. I was tugging at the sleeves of my jumper, anxiously ripping at the fabric. Wondering whether I should've worn protective gear to shield myself from any needle-kinks he might impose on me, I trembled with fear-- I didn't want to see him. 

Despite my wishes, Roman eventually came around the corner, a rather mischievous smirk spread across his soft, pink lips as he neared me. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall next to me, his green eyes etching themselves into my skull. His usual cardigan was draped around his shoulders and over his white shirt, tied in the front, as he crossed his long legs in the classic Roman Godfrey stance. "I'm glad to see you came,"

"As if I had a choice," I mumbled, glancing at our surroundings, not wanting to be caught alone with him here. I had to do everything in my power not to look at the casual swoop of his hair, not wanting to think about how handsome he looked right now. "What do you want?"

Roman blinked twice, almost as though he had expected me to say something else. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was afraid my heart was pounding audibly in my chest. "No," My gaze darted down to my shoes, kicking away a nearby rock. "Can't we just forget any of it ever happened?"

"Well, that was sort of the draft of the original plan," Roman said, shrugging. "But you've clearly not been able to forget it, with the way you've been avoiding me for a week now... So it seems we have to resolve this, somehow."

Did this mean that I had only made things worse for myself? I wanted to hit my head against the wall and bleed out-- that would probably feel better than what I was feeling on the inside right now. "The actual kiss hasn't been on my mind much... Mostly just the needles,"

Roman let out a huff-- was it a laugh? "I'm not going to fucking poke you, could you calm down about that?"

"I can't be sure when it comes to you, Roman!--"

"So you haven't thought about it?" He cut me off, eyes sparkling with the need to know. "The kiss?"

If I'd had something to throw at him, I would've done so in a heartbeat. Why was he so keen on knowing that? "Not much,"

"Only at night?"

I couldn't even hold back my grimace, listening to him snickering like a proud toddler. "Definitely not," I grumbled, now kicking at another rock. "Why does it matter to you?"

Roman shrugged; "I don't think you understand how intriguing it was to find out you've liked me all this time," He watched as I continued to tug at the sleeve of my sweater, looking like a nervous wreck. The image before him made his grin widen. "You've been the biggest bitch ever, do you know that? I was dead sure you hated my guts until you begged me to fucking kiss you!"

"I didn't beg!" I exclaimed, protesting. "In your fucking dreams, Roman!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. Feeling his presence inching closer, I stopped kicking the scattered rocks around me, looking up to meet his gaze.

Roman leaned down, matching himself on the level of my widening eyes. He studied me as I froze to my spot like an icicle, holding my breath to not get swept up in thoughts of how good he smelled and how soft his lips looked up close. "You're still running your mouth," he mumbled,  and I felt his eyes fall on my lips as well. "I thought you might get a little nicer if I complied with your little kiss."

His way of thinking had me furrowing my brows, confused. Was that why he kissed me? A tiny piece of my heart broke, the hope I had buried deep in my gut dissolving. Why had I ever hoped that his reasons for kissing me the way he did had been different? "I'll be nice if you agree that I don't owe you anything anymore. It's been driving me nuts,"

With this, Roman broke out into a rather abrupt laugh; "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd absolve you of that, anymore,"

The laugh felt so damning, I couldn't help but shudder. I was two seconds away from kicking him instead of the rocks. "What do you want, then?"

Roman straightened up, the look on his face giving away that he was debating what to choose. "It's probably not something as bad as you expected it to be," he said, nodding to himself as he no longer met my hard gaze. "I'd just like it if you told me why you like me."

What? I stared up at him in disbelief, lips parting in shock. Had I avoided him like the plague over a simple question? Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable one to answer, but my mind had already concluded that he would stick me with needles like a voodoo doll and leave me for dead on a road somewhere.  "Uh... Could I ask why?"

"Nope,"

I nodded; "Okay...?" Clearing my throat, I pondered where to start. I hadn't actually thought about this question, and I had to scour my brain for the answer. "I don't know," I eventually mumbled. "I guess I just think you're handsome." Saying it out loud physically pained me, but I knew I had to get this over with.

Roman blinked twice, meeting my gaze with a rather empty look about him. "That's it?"

"I don't know? I think so," I shrugged, searching through my mind for more. "You're my type, I suppose. Tall, brown hair, green eyes... And unattainable. I guess that a part of me likes that you'll never like me back." Saying this out loud, however, was even worse. I hadn't thought about it like that up until this moment.

Roman seemed even more confused than I did. "So it was nothing that I did?"

Something told me he was searching for something more meaningful, but I had always known that my crush was superficial. "I don't think so..."

What followed would haunt me for days on end; Roman broke out into a rather maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair in clear denial. "So it's just the same, then," he said in between hiccups of laughter. "It's not about me at all!"

I could only watch as he went into some sort of a mental storm, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the noise. "I don't think you quite understand how it is for no one to like you for you," Roman continued, now pacing back and forth as his trail of words sped up; "You've probably never had that problem, right? Guys probably like you because you're nice to them, I've seen that multiple times. Or that one guy that just hasn't left you alone since you sat together during assembly that one time-- what the fuck was his name?"

I held my breath; what on earth was I witnessing? "Roman, I think you're spiraling, let's just breathe--"

"Daniel, wasn't it?" Roman finally looked back at me, a cramped smile on display along his lips. "He definitely likes you for you, right? Not just because you're cute? That must be fucking nice." 

I had never imagined that I would pity someone for only being liked for their looks. Somehow, I found myself wanting to comfort him, and I had to fight that instinct. "It would probably be easier for you to find something real if you weren't such a prick," I mumbled. "If you didn't tug people's hair, throw stuff at them, or stab them with needles?"

That seemed to be enough for Roman to take a step back from his weird state, his pacing coming to a halt. Something seemed to be dawning on him, a crushing realization that should've come about ten years ago, but instead of taking it like an adult, he retaliated; "Well, you're not exactly doing any better than me! You've liked me for God knows how long, and you've treated me like utter crap!"

"Because you did the same to me!" I said, feeling my voice raise with my emotions. "You've had no interest in me, along with all the bullshit you've pulled all year! Don't you think it would probably be easier for me to like you for who you are if you had been a pleasant person to be around?"

Groaning, Roman turned his back to me, ready to walk away. After taking a few steps, he turned on his heel, facing me once more. Fury was burning in his green, green eyes, fists balling up as he spoke; "This is not over. You tell anyone just a tiny fraction of this conversation, I'll tell Letha I fucked you raw," 

My jaw fell in complete and utter shock as he walked away, cursing myself to the heavens and beyond. How had I managed to make this an even bigger mess than it was before I came? As I went back to kicking rocks, trying to catch my breath, bits of the conversation suddenly came back to me; did he just say that I was cute? That he had seen me with Daniel during assembly, and that he had spotted me talking to my previous flings?

This only made everything furthermore confusing; it was obvious that he didn't like me, either. But what on earth was going on in that brain of his?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next time I saw Roman was a few days later in the hallway during rush hour. I had spent several nights tossing and turning, trying to decrypt the conversation that continued to haunt me. The conclusion I arrived at, was that he might be lashing out with the needles and the childish behaviour because he didn't know how else to express interest. 

But then again, that would mean that he was very interested in me. I was sure something was wrong with that conclusion, but I couldn't pinpoint any other possible theory at this moment. I also couldn't shake how upset he looked when he found out my crush was purely superficial; was his need to be seen for who he was so overpowering?

So when I finally flagged him down, Roman was in a rush, and this was rather unfortunate; my legs were much shorter than his, and I had to go into a jog to not lose sight of him. Eventually, I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

Roman seemed rather confused, glancing down at me with a wild look in his eyes which quickly died out when he saw who it was. "What are you doing?--"

"You smiled at me in class," I confessed, feeling my cheeks redden. "The sun was hitting your eyes in a way that made them extra green, and you smiled at me and handed me a pencil. That's when I knew I liked you." Slowly, I pried my fingers away from his wrist, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. It felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders, like the anxiety that clung to me had been washed away in a calm stream of water in the mountains.

Why did I feel such a strong need to tell him my crush wasn't purely superficial? That it had stemmed from the simplest act of kindness? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Did I pity him that much? 

Roman's pupils expanded, and he stood as if glued to his spot. People kept passing us by, but it was as though all the surrounding sound died out. It was clear that his mind was racing, his brows drawing together in confusion-- or was it disgust? I couldn't be sure. Either way, my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that it hurt. 

I cleared my throat; "Have... a nice day," Before he could answer or make fun of me, I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, knowing my heart wouldn't be able to take it if he shut me down once more. 

I couldn't take any more of this. Clutching my heart as I made it to my locker, I knew I had to get ready for class and that I didn't have time for the crushing feeling taking over my chest. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A big part of me had hoped that our last interaction would be the end of it all. That I wouldn't have to owe Roman anything anymore, that he wouldn't be threatening to tell Letha that we kissed or fucked or whatever-- I should've known that was an unattainable reality. 

I was practically falling asleep at the end of a long day of school. Exhausted, I allowed myself to close my eyes as I leaned my head against my palm, elbow at my table, waiting for class to start. A worrying thought popped into my head as I realized that chemistry was the only class I shared with Roman, which meant that he would probably be showing up any time soon. 

With a yawn, I blinked several times, hoping to wake up as I sat back in my chair. I was about to do some stretches, but as I turned to my right, I let out a yelp, nearly falling off my seat.

And I would've fallen right down to the floor if Roman hadn't grabbed the edge of my chair, holding me back with one hand as though it was nothing. "Careful, there," 

That's exactly what he had said when we were in that damn closet playing seven minutes in heaven. I shivered, getting a severe case of deja vu as I looked back at him in disbelief. "When on earth did you show up?"

"Right around the time you nodded off," Roman's books were already on the table-- had I genuinely slept for a minute or two? How could I have missed this? He let go of my seat with a snicker, shaking his head; "You're quite the case, aren't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want? Why are you sitting here?"

"Could you relax?" Roman rolled his eyes, his mood worsening by the second. "Look around, Sherlock, there's nowhere else to sit."

It pained me to realize he was right. With a huff, I fought the urge to kick him under the table. As the teacher finally entered the classroom, excusing himself for being a few minutes late, I let out a sigh of relief; I hoped to avoid talking to Roman as much as possible from now on. After I had confessed to him and gotten nothing in return again, I was dead tired of seeing his gorgeous face-- it was physically painful, at this point.

As class started, I reached into my bag to find a pencil. A good minute passed by as I rummaged around, which eventually garnered Roman's attention; he immediately knew what I was looking for. He turned to me with a spare pencil which he had lying about on his table, holding it out in front of me.

Someone up there was definitely playing pranks on me-- I was sure of it now. With an embarrassed smile, I watched as the sun hit the green of his eyes, illuminating them further as I reached for the pencil. The tips of our fingers touched, just for a few seconds, but it felt like I had almost burned myself with how my nerves reacted to the nudge of his hand against mine. 

Roman seemed to understand the irony of the situation, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a dizzying look of kindness. 

There it was. The root of all my problems-- the simplest act of warmth along with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The bullshit that started it all. 

I hummed to myself as I broke eye contact, crouching over my table to start taking notes, desperate to distract myself. Every fibre of my being felt like it was buzzing with electricity, unable to calm down. 

It didn't take long before Roman shoved a small note onto my part of the table. I gave him a look before I opened it, sighing.

we need to talk. meet me by my car after school

Turning to Roman, I couldn't help but glare; this again? But his smirk melted me in more ways than one, and I knew that it could have consequences if I didn't go. 

Fuck.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I waited until there were almost no cars in the parking lot in front of the school, hiding away in the library in the meantime. I didn't exactly want to be seen talking to him. As I finally walked out past the front entrance, I held my breath as I spotted Roman leaning against his red jaguar, typing away on his phone. I wondered who he was texting-- was it Brooke from the cheerleading team? No, it couldn't be; unless she still wanted to be with him after he pricked her with the legendary needle.

It didn't take long for Roman to put away his phone, watching me as I neared him. Something about the way his hair lay in waves over his forehead made him look like even more of a heartbreaker than he already was. "Long time no see, hm?"

I didn't even want to fake being entertained by that-- we both knew that we'd seen each other in class less than twenty minutes ago. "What do you want?"

Roman rolled his eyes; "Can't you at least act like you like me? We both know you do,"

Something about being called out like that didn't sit right with me, but I swallowed my curses. I had to be on his good side, after all, so that he wouldn't turn around and tell Letha what had happened between us. "Did you want me to come skipping down the stairs and run to you?" I asked, getting a good look at him. "Or maybe a blowjob before I bake you a pie?"

A humoured smirk spread across his lips, giving in to a chuckle. "You could at least start by standing a little closer?" Roman put his hands up in the air as though he was surrendering; "Look ma, no needles!"

I huffed, complying. I took a few steps forward, watching the last car leave in my peripheral view. It was definitely not a good idea to be alone with him like this-- I should've known better. 

This didn't seem to be enough for Roman, who proceeded to tap the spot next to him on the hood of his car. 

I groaned; "Roman, come on--"

In a swift motion, he hooked his fingers inside my front pockets, dragging me forward as I yelped. Roman grabbed my hips, forcing me down on the car with a soft thud. With wide eyes, I turned to him, watching his hands disappear back into his pockets. 

"You're infuriating," Roman mumbled under his breath, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his right pocket. He held it out in front of me; "Want one?"

Honestly, I had only smoked once. It had resulted in me coughing up what felt like half a lung. "No, thanks," 

He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he hummed. This little dance around why he had told me to come made me further nervous, once again reaching for the sleeve of my sweater, tugging at the seams that had come loose. The smell of nicotine infiltrated my nose, and I turned to him just in time to watch him exhale a few rings of smoke, eyes transfixed on them as they evaporated into thin air. 

Finally, Roman spoke up; "I'm calling for a truce,"

What? My eyes widened, scanning him for lies. "... What's the catch?"

Roman turned to me, a slight smile splayed across his lips. "You know me too well," he said, chuckling as a light breeze passed us. "I want us to play a game, and then all is forgotten."

"Oh no," I blurted out. "What kind of game, Roman? Can't you take pity on me just once?--"

I immediately shut up as I felt his arm wrap around me, holding out his cigarette in front of my mouth between his fingers. I wasn't about to start fighting him in an empty parking lot, so I parted my lips, accepting the cigarette despite knowing I would cough up everything I had eaten for lunch if I inhaled properly. 

Roman's face was suddenly very close to mine; "Ever heard of this game... Wait, what was it called? Seven minutes in hell?"

For fuck's sake. I watched as he laughed, amused by his joke. Still, my eyes darted down to his bouncing leg, watching as he gave away a sliver of nervousness. I reached for the cigarette, getting it out of my mouth; "Sounds about right," Balancing it between my fingers, holding it out in front of his mouth just as he had done to me, Roman hummed as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette, taking a puff.

Before Roman could take it back into his hand, I pulled the cigarette away from him, putting it back into my mouth. Something about sharing the cigarette was making a familiar ache between my legs throb, which in turn made me cross my legs. I didn't inhale the smoke into my lungs, keeping it in my mouth before breathing it out, knowing it was hard to differentiate between that and the real thing. "Where would we play?" I eventually said, glancing at him.

Now that we were sitting like this, Roman's arm around me, I realized we hadn't been this close since that party where we had kissed. Something about his embrace was comforting, despite me knowing that he was doing it to take the piss out of me. However, my steadfast belief in his reasons became shaky as I met his eyes, watching how unusually big his pupils were as he looked down at me, a certain calmness about him. "My car?"

I couldn't help but giggle as I handed him the cigarette, our fingers meeting in the exchange. "I'm not making out with you in your car,"

"Why not?"

"Every single cheerleader slut at this school has been in the back of that thing," 

Roman shrugged; "Not everyone. Eleven out of fifteen,"

"Ew, you're not making it any better!--"

"Fine!" he huffed, giving me a squeeze with the arm he had around me. Roman put out his cigarette by throwing it to the ground, giving it a proper stomp before he turned to me, a mischievous smirk on display. "No one has been in the front, though."

It was hard to say no when he looked at me like this; how was it possible for someone so conniving to be so beautiful? I had to look away from Roman-- it was getting impossible to breathe. Tugging at my sleeves once more, I realized I had ripped out a new seam. "Look, I have to say I'm a little confused... You're not even into me, so I don't get why you'd want to kiss me again," I let go of my sweater, realizing I would probably manage to rip it all apart if I didn't calm down. "It really is a power thing for you, isn't it?"

Roman hummed, rubbing my arm in a soothing manner as he stared out at the parking lot with a rather hollow look in his eyes. "Yeah... That's definitely what it is,"

I didn't have time to wonder why he didn't sound so convinced. As I dared to look at him again, I watched him lost in thought, pondering something. I took that as my cue to get out of playing his game; "Making out would probably be fun and all, but don't you think it is more beneficial for you if we maybe got to... I don't know, know each other?"

Confused, Roman's gaze darted back to me. "Why?"

"You seemed to be a little upset that I didn't like you because of you, remember?" I gave him a playful nudge, drawing forth a smile. "Instead of imposing your weird dominance kink or whatever it is on me, wouldn't you want to prove that there's more to you?"

This seemed to strike a chord with Roman, who slowly started to nod in approval. "That... doesn't sound so bad,"

I damn right hoped so-- I let out a shaky breath, relieved to not become the twelfth girl to end up in Roman's car.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I couldn't believe that I had managed to fix myself up with a date with the Roman Godfrey. He was practically known for never going out on dates with anyone, but here I was, running around my room trying to find something nice to wear.

However, there was one tiny hoop I had to get through-- Letha was on speaker phone as I rummaged through my drawers, and my heart was racing as I tried to avoid her questions."I still don't get why you can't hang out today!" Letha whined, clearly upset with me. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some shoes down at the sale!"

I grimaced, feeling like the biggest prick on the planet. "I'm sorry, Letha, I'm just not feeling too good..." With a heavy heart, I could hear her sulk on the other end as I finally found the perfect bag. 

"I've barely seen you this week... You've been so jumpy, I just feel like you're avoiding me. Did I do something?"

No, no! I was about to protest until I heard a sound coming from my driveway; I made my way to my window, glancing down at Roman's red car, watching as he parked. Clearing my throat, I rushed to my phone; "Letha, I'm so fucking nauseous, I think I need to throw up... I'm so sorry, could I call you back later?"

I heard her sigh; "Get better soon, okay?--"

As Roman started honking outside, clearly impatient, I had to leave the call without even saying goodbye. Groaning, I gathered my stuff, making my way down the stairs and outside with hurried steps. "Stop that!" I said, trying to steady my breathing as I approached the car. "My parents are inside!"

"So what?" Roman's cocky smirk was on display as always, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Whatever dumb fuck told you I'm a patient man, is a dumb fuck." Roman got out of his car to open my door on the other side. It was nice to see that he had a gentleman bone in him-- it gave me hope that this date wouldn't crash and burn. 

And weirdly enough, it actually went quite well. I had been worried that he'd take me out shooting or whatever it was that he did in his free time, but Roman settled for something simple-- we were currently sat in my favourite café in the city, having the most normal conversation we'd ever had. 

"You're kidding me?" Roman said, putting down his coffee with a look of shock on his face. "You've never seen The Godfather?"

I couldn't help but huff-- this was a solid reminder that he still was a guy at the end of the day. "I haven't gotten to it, I guess,"

"Well, you have to!" He ran his fingers through his styled hair, shaking his head in disapproval. Roman was wearing a different shirt today that I hadn't seen before, and I was getting the feeling that he had actually dressed up a bit despite how casual this date was. "What else haven't you seen?" 

"Uh, I don't know?--"

"What else haven't you done, is probably a better question," Roman was grinning from ear to ear now, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "First kiss?"

"David Parker, eighth grade," I put down my milkshake with a smirk, happy to be sizing him up. "You?"

Roman seemed beyond amused; "Amanda Reiley, sixth," He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intrigued that I wasn't backing down from his intrusive questions. "First time?"

I had to suppress a cough, feeling as though I was choking on air. There was no way in hell I'd tell him I hadn't had sex yet. "... Some guy I met on vacation last year in Greece, don't remember his name,"

"Really, now?" Roman hummed, leaning back against his chair. "Not buying it. You squirm like a virgin every time I look at you."

My breath caught in my throat-- "Pardon?"

It seemed that my reaction only amused him, but he still spared me by brushing over it. "My first time was with Denise Campbell, ninth grade. Was really sweet, actually,"

I tried to shake off the fact that Roman had been right in his deductions. The story of his first time was unexpected, and he had been quite young-- concerningly young. "Roman Godfrey and sweet don't usually go together, in my book. Did you light candles or something?" I took a sip of my milkshake, watching him break out into a smile. 

"Honestly? I think she lit one," he said, a soft chuckle following.

 I had forgotten how beautiful his laugh was. Flustered, I put away my milkshake, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gorgeous, green eyes. There was a calmness about him now, something I had trouble getting used to. It was a big contrast to the way he had looked at me while we played seven minutes in heaven, or the way he had been looking at me the whole week I had avoided him. The usual feeling of unease that crept up my system whenever he was around was long gone-- it was almost as though we were friends. 

Nervous about my next question, I started picking at my nails; "So where did it go wrong?"

"Pardon?"

I didn't meet his gaze anymore. "When did it become casual to you?"

"Sex?"

"Sex,"

Roman hummed, taking a rather long sip of coffee. I wondered whether I had gone too far with the question, but he didn't seem fazed. "Didn't get too far with being sweet, I suppose,"

This was definitely a chapter in Roman's life that I hadn't expected to hear about-- who had broken his heart? And why was it comforting to know that he'd had that experience? Something about it made him more human. "That's sad," I mumbled, forcing myself to leave my nails alone. "Sweet usually gets you quite far."

Something about that seemed to intrigue him; he moved to the edge of his chair, closer. "Don't you girls usually like the bad guys? That seems to work well, in my experience,"

I shrugged; "It can be fun for a week or two. Any longer than that, and your heart starts to tire,"

"Ah," was all Roman said, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient manner. "Would you want to get ice cream? It's on me."

This conversation was starting to give me whiplash. "I'm sold," I eventually answered, shooting him a smile. It was nice to know that he wanted to continue the date despite my intrusive questions-- I couldn't lie; I was rather enjoying myself. And my ego was getting the biggest inflation it'd had in a while, remembering he didn't usually go out on dates at all.

About half an hour later, we were now walking down the street with our ice cream, once again debating why I hadn't watched The Godfather-- boys really love that movie, don't they? I took the liberty of looking up at him as he explained the plot to me in excessive detail, watching his hands flail around in excitement as he spoke, eyes round and green, and the way a single strand of hair lay in front of his eyes, straying from his stylings.

The man I had hated this whole year suddenly became a person to me. A person with interests, quirks, and feelings-- weirdly enough. Roman didn't come off as a spoiled brat right now, and I could barely remember a time when I would run away from him and his needles. Like this, I could imagine sweet moments with Roman, possibly even holding his hand as we walked down this street, doing normal stuff together. 

In another lifetime, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

However, I was quickly yanked out of my daydreams when I spotted a familiar figure leaving the shoe store across the street. With a panicked yelp, I grabbed Roman, dragging him down the nearest alleyway as I felt my blood run cold. 

Roman looked beyond confused; "What are you?--"

"Letha!" 

His mouth formed an 'o', watching me press myself up against the wall. "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath. This was definitely not what I needed right now. If she found out I was here with Roman and that I had lied to her, I was sure she'd have my head. Why couldn't I just melt into the wall and become immaterial? 

With ease and calm, Roman grabbed my finished ice cream, putting it down on the ground along with his own before nearing me. "We'll wait it out,"

What? "Thought you were ready to rat me out?" I leaned forward, glancing past the corner of the alley, making sure Letha hadn't seen us. 

"Well..." Roman put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my back to the wall once more. "I know she'd kill you, and you can't die before watching The Godfather."

Had I not been preoccupied with being quiet, I would've groaned right in his cocky face. The hand he had on my shoulder burned against my skin, and I was getting flashbacks to our time in the closet at the party where we had kissed. "I've repaid my debt to you now, anyway," I mumbled, warily glancing past the edge of the corner where we were standing, watching Letha from afar. 

Roman's hand on my shoulder quickly made its way into my hair, fingers twisting themselves into the nape of my neck, forcing me to face him. I let my breath escape me as my lips parted, watching him with big, wide eyes; what was happening? It was at this moment that I realized how close he was standing, how he was practically pressed up against me.

There was something sinister about the look on Roman's face-- it suddenly dawned on me that he was still the same person, even though he had buried this side of him for a few hours. He would always thrive when seeing someone in an anxious state, feel joy at any visible conflict or misery, and it dawned on me how bad of a situation this was when his next words came out in a dangerous whisper; "I could just call her over here, do you know that?" Roman's grip on my hair tightened, almost enough to make me wince. "You've made quite a mess of yourself, sneaking behind her back. I could ruin you in a second."

"You won't, though," Fucker.

Intrigued, Roman's green eyes sparkled; "And why are you so sure of that?"

My chest was heaving against him, hating every second, every minute of this encounter. When had he turned into such a sadist? Was it after Denise Campbell in ninth grade? I wanted to make sure I asked him that next time. "Because this gets you high," I hissed. "This feeling that you get from watching me get scared? You're addicted. You're a fucking junkie." 

I felt Roman breathe out against my lips, leaning closer, eyes burning into mine. I could see the flickering flames in them, and I knew that I had set them alight-- I was quite literally playing with fire at this point. "Well, this is who I am," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

"Why no one likes me," Now, the fire died out, turning into an unintelligible emotion swimming in the green of his eyes. I didn't need to be a specialist to understand that he was baring his coping mechanism for me to see. "Why no one ever will. And why you will go back to hating me once we're done here."

It felt as though I had finally finished a puzzle with five thousand pieces. This was it. Had Roman made himself so unlovable to protect his feelings? Were all his stupid quirks just means to scare away girls so that they would stop liking him? I couldn't help but pity him-- beneath his harsh exterior, I could sense who he was beneath all of it. In a flash of emotions, I reached out to touch his face with a wary, gentle touch. 

Roman's eyes widened, confused, as I moved away the strand of hair that strayed from the rest.

"I know you said this wouldn't be easy," I said, voice soft. "Whatever would ensue between us. And I spent a lot of time thinking about that, actually, and I think the answer is that you just make it hard for yourself." Sighing, I let my hands rest against his shoulders, watching his every move and reaction. It was obvious that he was caught off guard. "I pity you, Roman. But I thank you for making me realize how much guts one must have to feel... Why are you so scared?"

Roman just stared at me, his breathing coming out in shallow breaths through his nose. He stood as if frozen to his spot, and his hand left my hair, falling to his side as his eyes never left mine. "I'm not scared," he eventually said.

"You're terrified,"

"No,"

"There's no point denying, it's really fucking obvious--"

"No, it isn't!" Roman snarled, grabbing my hands, and prying them off of him. "Maybe I just don't like you in that way, have you ever considered that?"

I shrugged; "I have. But it still doesn't change the fact that I can read the fear on your face like an open fucking book,"

Groaning, Roman let out an exasperated sigh. He let go of my hands, the fury apparent in his unsteady breathing. It was obvious that he had never confronted his issues head-on, and that he didn't like the process one bit. "You need to watch your mouth,"

"Or what?" It was as though my fear had escaped me, staring him down with challenge burning its way through my veins. "You're going to tell Letha we fucked or whatever? Go ahead, see what I care! Just know that I will be telling the whole school that your dick is smaller than my pinky if you do."

Roman's eye twitched as he let out a guttural growl, body tensing up as he balled his fists, one of them returning to my hair. It was clear that I had angered him; he grabbed a fistful, yanking my head upward with a force that made me wince, pulling me flush against him. It was at this moment that I felt something press up against my stomach-- my eyes widened with the realization that he was hard. "Do you still like me?" he asked, his breath tickling the underside of my nose. 

When I refused to answer, Roman took my silence as a yes. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue to,"

"Wasn't it you who proclaimed me a masochist?" I answered, a smirk forming on my lips. Something told me that I had him cornered. 

And I was right-- it was Roman's turn to go silent, staring into my eyes as multiple emotions flashed before him. Standing like this with him was almost comforting; I had finally deciphered him. I knew that he had practically built himself a fortress of hate and fired the canons at any signs of intrusions. He was so desperately human right now-- it was making me dizzy. Or was that just his harsh grip on my hair? 

"Roman?"

A hum.

"You can kiss me now if you want to,"

The hand in my hair loosened its grip, and I watched as Roman inhaled a long breath, no longer conflicted.

And so our lips came together in the alley, a rather hungry kiss ensuing. My hands went up into Roman's hair, letting out soft gasps against him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him with a burning need. I could taste the remnants of the chocolate flavoured ice-cream on his tongue, the sweetness mixing in with the roughness of our kiss. I wondered whether he could taste the vanilla on mine-- chocolate and vanilla were my favourite mix, anyway.

I knew there was a possibility of Letha spotting us if she walked our way, but it only made me more desperate for Roman. I had missed him dearly, the memories of our last kiss having haunted me through every hour of every day. There was no doubt in it now-- he wanted me too. It gave me such an immense rush, along with the satisfaction of feeling how hard he was against me, the throbbing of his cock continuing against my stomach as he pressed me further into the wall behind me. Something felt wrong about him being aroused after our fight, especially now that we were practically in public, but I knew I didn't want to push him away just yet. 

I was completely breathless by the time Roman shifted, his thigh now pressing up against the apex of my own. Caught off guard, I whimpered as he grabbed my hips, moving my hips against him as the kiss deepened, growing further needy. I could feel it in my bones; not only did he want me, he needed me. This was just about the biggest high I had ever had. Roman Godfrey-- all mine in this moment.

The friction between my legs, feeling his cock continuously brush up against my stomach through our clothes, had me gripping his shoulder, disconnecting our kiss to catch my breath. My head rolled back against the wall behind me as I pondered how I had allowed this to happen, not used to pleasure caused by others. 

Roman's fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as we rocked against each other, lips hovering above one another before they came crashing together once more, unable to keep away. I let out a broken whimper, my hands flying back up into his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure coursed through my veins in a way I hadn't ever felt before. I couldn't quite put my finger on what this was, but I had never been this certain that I liked it.

I let out a broken moan as my head rolled back once more, which in turn had Roman connecting our lips, muffling any sounds. This was where I was reminded that we were in public, wondering if I had gone absolutely mad-- I blamed it all on him. His beautiful eyes, his strong arms, and his addicting, soft lips. As Roman continued to grind me up against his thigh, pulling away to watch my lips part and my body squirm in pleasure, I gazed up at the way the corners of his mouth turned up into his signature smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing-- messing with me like this, practically in public. 

It took a lot of willpower for me to push him away, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact. "We-- We can't," I said, catching my breath. 

Like this, I could see how disheveled Roman's hair was, how his lips looked swollen with kisses, and it made my stomach flip-- how was it possible for someone to be so beautiful, even when completely unraveled? 

Roman shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. It was clear that he was scanning my look of arousal; "My car is right around the corner,"

"Okay...?"

Leaning forward, Roman captured my lips in a short kiss. "I can park it somewhere desolate," he said, nipping at my lower lip. 

I couldn't help but shiver-- that sounded really fucking nice at the moment, but I knew I had to control myself. And I wasn't about to lose my virginity in a car? "Another time," I mumbled, struggling to catch my breath. Who would've known that arousal could cloud the mind like this? 

Roman nodded, accepting my words as a promise. "I'll hold you to that,"

Oh no-- This again? Great.

Just great.

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10!<33 thank you for reading!!)

[cupidhoons]

REMINDER ✶ LEE HEESEUNG

( M.LIST ) ╱ f! reader 𓈒𓈒𓈒 slightly toxic & suggestive themes skinship kissing ─── wc 1k> : sum. breaking up with your ex & going to a party was one bad idea enough, but going back to him for what seemed like the millionth time after seeing him with a girl that wasn't you was a story on its own.

YOU AND LEE HEESEUNG WERE SO OVER. At least, that's what you thought. After breaking up with him for the ninth time this week and constantly having an on and off relationship with him for the past month—you believed that this was the last and official breakup. Not a chance were you going to settle for a man who didn't know exactly what he wanted, and nor was Lee Heeseung going to settle for someone who loved to toy with him. 

It was a push and pull relationship, to say the least. Though, most times it seemed like there was more of a pull than push. It felt as if every time you saw him—or even near him for fact—you got into a zone. But not this time. 

Or so, that's what you thought.

Maybe you were just greedy for his love, but seeing him enter the party with a girl that wasn't you two weeks after the breakup was driving you insane. You eyed them from across the room, burning holes into the back of Heeseung’s head.

The music thrummed in the air, drowning out the noise of conversation and laughter. Your fingers tightened around the cup in your hand, crinkling the plastic till it seemed unusable. Heeseung was laughing, his head thrown back slightly as he leaned in closer to her. 

You told yourself you didn't care. That you wouldn't let him get to you anymore. But the way his hand rested so comfortably on her back, guiding her through the crowded room and how his arm snaked around her waist pissed you off.

You observed them closely, your eyes never leaving their figure even as you ordered another shot. Your friends could tell that you were so out of it, and they know the exact reason why, but all you said to them was “Everything is fine.” 

Lie. Nothing was fine, and seeing Heeseung give her a kiss on her cheek was enough to send you spiraling. You had enough of his bullshit. 

Setting down your drink on the nearest table, you straighten your posture as you take out a mirror for touch-ups before walking over to them. Each step felt heavy with jealousy and frustration, masked with your self confidence. 

Heeseung’s laugh faltered when he noticed your walking figure. His smile stiffened, his hand immediately slipping away from the girl’s waist to rest at his side. You could only widen your smirk. 

“Hey, Hee,” you said, your voice honey-sweet, as you placed a hand on his chest, making him flinch. “Can I borrow you for a second?” 

It was as if you didn't even notice his date, until she cleared her throat, catching your attention. “Oh, I’m sorry! You don't mind if I steal him for a moment, do you? We just have some…things to talk about.” You smiled. 

His date took a glance at you, then at Heeseung, sensing the tension between you two. “Uh…I’ll just…grab a drink,” she mumbled, stepping away from the scene. 

Heeseung turned back to you, his jaw tightening. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. 

You leaned in slightly, letting your hands trial lightly over the fabric of his shirt, resting just above his heart. The warmth of his skin seeps through the material as his breath hitches at the sudden contact. 

“Remind me why we’re taking a break,” you muttered, tilting your head as if you were clueless to why.

His brows furrowed as he tried pulling away, but your hand stayed firmly on his chest, following the movement like a magnet. “We talked about this,” he said, his voice firmer than before, though the way his gaze flickered to your lips gave everything you needed to know. “You said it was better for the both of us.” 

“And you agreed,” you countered smoothly, your tone low and intimate as you closed the gap again. “But does it really feel better, Heeseung? Because it doesn't for me.” 

His eyes searched yours, conflicted. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted. Your thumb traced a small, absentminded circle against his chest, and you could feel his heart racing beneath your touch. 

“We’re not good for each other.” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than you.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips curving into a sly smile as you trailed up to his jaw. “But that's never stopped us before, has it?” 

Heeseung exhaled shakily, his hands twitching at his sides as if debating if he should pull away from you or pull you closer. His gaze flickered down to your lips for what felt like the tenth time, then back up to meet your eyes. 

“Come on, Hee.” you whispered, almost like a plea as you leaned in your head closer to his. “Show me why I can’t seem to let go of you.” 

That was it. His hands finally moved—not to push you away, but to grip your waist, pulling you against him. His lips crashed onto yours, the kiss desperate, almost punishing. It was messy and filled with all the unresolved emotions neither of you had dared to admit aloud.

Nothing else existed as his lips were on yours. Not the party, not the girl he’d been with earlier, not even the reasons you’d broken up. Just the two of you, tangled up in each other once again.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “This is a mistake,” he murmured, though his hands on your waist told a different story.

“Then let’s make it together,” you whispered, pulling him back in before he could change his mind.

[burning-academia-if]

Burning Academia [Play Here]

Demo Updated: June 7th, 2024 (Prologue-Chapter 2)

Current Word Count: 91.4k (w/code)

Word Count per Play Through: ~34k

F.A.Q | Navigation | Bonus Content | Pinterest | Spotify | Character Quiz |

You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real. To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with. Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years. Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.

Customize the MC; gender, appearance, personality, etc!

Romance six questionable love interests, or not!

A morality system which changes how your story will go. Do you belong to the day, the night, or somewhere in between?

A complicated family, which you've been shackled to your whole life. Will you ever be able to escape them? Do you even want to?

Survive college, your job, and attempt to not have a quarter life crisis.

Avoid getting devoured by all the things that go bump in the night.

Retain your free will.

Dawn: The world has never been kind, but that hasn't stopped you from giving up. You'll run through the night and embrace the rising dawn. A path of becoming hope.

Day: There's light in the world, if one only knows how to look. As long as you hold on, the light will find you, too. A path of finding solace.

Dusk: All you've known is suffering, and you won't stand for it any longer. Regardless where that leads you, or the choices you need to make to save yourself. A path leading to freedom.

Night: There's no hope here, not as things stand. You'll change it all, even if you must stand in the darkness. A path of destroying everything which has sought to destroy you.

More simply: Dawn/Day: traditional good paths, Dusk: anti-hero path, Night: "villain" path

Rook Bellerose [M]: A "best friend" you've known for almost a decade now. He's never let you get close even after all this time. He's the king of jokes and immaturity, but after the events which led to your enrollment at Vales Grove, something's changed. Maybe it's the guilt, or maybe it's the mask finally slipping.

Beck Castro [M]: Rook's detested roommate, although you aren't sure why. He's the kind of guy who likes to hear himself talk, and he's pretty good at it. He can captivate a room or get himself out of any situation. For whatever reason, he's taken a keen interest in you, and has offered his help for whatever you might need.

Rhea Windsor [F]: The Headmaster's daughter. Everyone who talks about her often complains that she's the traditional prim and proper young woman one would expect from a Headmaster's daughter. However, the more you talk to her, the more you realize she's the exact opposite with a dorky personality and a streak of clumsiness.

Zoe Ripley [NB]: A loner who hides in the library to avoid people. They saw what went down the day you were forced to attend Vales Grove. Despite their prickly attitude, you get the sense they aren't a bad person, and despite how they act, they've never refused to help you. If anything, you seem to be the one person on campus who doesn't get on their nerves, professors included.

Lars Angel [M]: The most exhausted person you've ever seen, and that's saying something. He's a grad student, and one you keep running in to. He can't stand you, and you can only guess at why. With a sharp tongue and a bitter disposition, he tries his best to avoid you. Too bad you both keep running into each other. It looks like fate has other plans.

??? [M/F/NB]: The thing which haunts you. You have no idea how the two of you got connected, but you can feel it in your blood, organs, neurons, synapses. You know it's evil, you know it wants to consume you, but tell me? Has anything ever cradled your soul so gently before?

Poly Route options:

Beck/Rook [triad]: Dawn or Day Path

Rook/??? [triad]: Night Path

Rhea and Zoe [V]: Dawn or Dusk Path

[RO Portraits]

CW: Gore, violence, discussions and depictions of death, parental neglect, emotional abuse, parental abuse, alcoholism, depression, classism, mtc

RO Route CWs (contains spoilers): Read here

[loverafey]

PIERCE MY HEART ! a rafe x f!reader series.

          ⤿ chapter one : a new girl, a sweet stranger and a horrible roommate — your goal of spending the first day of your college without socialising much anything but successful.

          ꕀ warnings - reader focused and a bit short (we'll get longer chapters trust), reader has paranoia and anxiety, rafe's an asshole to both the reader and sarah. wc - 2.4k. masterlist.

Texting your mother always filled you with an odd sense of guilt. Dread. As if any wrong move will make her go mad with despair, you too. You were barely keeping yourself stable as of now, but taking care of your mother had always been your biggest priority, not taking care of yourself. You felt as if you owed her a lot, a burden you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

People assume running away is a sign of cowardice, an excuse to flee away from the problem. No one ever took their time to think about the sheer strength it took alone to even come up with the decision to run away. Every second felt like a mistake, being hyper alert and looking around constantly. Anything to not catch a glimpse of that man.

For you, running away was harder than anything. Escaping felt like a sin.

You distinctly remember the first day of high school — the heightened nerves, excitement muddled with fear — you’d have assumed that it would be similar. Perhaps you were just more agitated due to the fact that it was an entirely new place, streets and places you weren’t familiar with, people you had never seen before.

A new life — that was your aim when you had applied to this college with your vision all bleary from tears, hands trembling, pain coursing through your body.

No. There was no point in thinking about all that. You had promised yourself and especially your mom after endless working shifts to afford a suitable flat, for your mother could live in, that this would be a new start for both of you. A chance to be happy. You’d never let anyone steal that from you.

Exhaling softly, you stepped into the campus, looking around and seeing people roaming around, mostly talking in groups of people. Fucking great. You felt out of place, clutching your bag tight as you tried your best to mask your confusion and not appear lost, cautiously walking inside.

Orientation, greetings, yada and yada — they passed by quickly and frankly, you wanted them too. Exhaustion from the last couple of days was still clinging to your bones, making you a tad bit cranky and unaware of your surroundings, too absorbed in the next task, not realising that someone was right in front of you until you accidentally bumped into them, hands quick to grab you before you could slip.

“Hey, are you okay?” She spoke, her long blonde hair falling down her shoulders, voice laced with genuine concern. That startled you for some reason, you hadn’t known what you were expecting.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” You replied sheepishly, averting your eyes mostly because you could feel her staring at you, trying to unmask you really. While there was obviously no malicious intent, you couldn’t help but worry.

“It’s totally fine. I’m Sarah!” A smile was quick to bloom on her lips, reminding you of the gentle noises of the water washing up against the shore one would hear on a pleasant day. Now that you think about it, you could comically smell the sea breeze too. You introduced yourself, returning the smile. Something about her was inviting, making it easy for anyone to talk to her. She was natural at this for sure.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious…?”

“Well, everyone’s new here but you look extra lost.” She chuckled lightheartedly. Great, you were totally being a little bit too obvious much to your dismay.

Both of you conversed for a while longer, Sarah insisting on exchanging contacts and you couldn't help but give in. Not only was it nice to have someone to talk to, your contact album was embarrassingly empty after you got rid of everyone’s numbers, which were like four people. Of course you didn't tell her that, you were never planning on telling what you’ve been up to before joining this college to anyone.

Somewhere during this, you had spaced out, thankfully unnoticed by Sarah. You hadn’t intended to, but you couldn’t help but feel an uneasy ache blooming within your heart. You wanted to text your mother again to check if everything was alright, but you knew she would disapprove of you checking on her every five minutes.

“Do you know what your dorm number is?” Sarah asked after a while, both of you walking on the campus, looking around. You nodded, showing her a poorly ripped paper where you had hastily scribbled it. You took note of the way her eyes widened, a gasp leaving her lips. It was nice to see someone so comfortable with expressing themselves, curiously gnawing at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

“What?”

“I know who your roommate is.” Sarah quipped, a big and almost playful grin soon overtaking her earlier calm smile. You couldn’t decipher if she was paying her condolences or genuinely excited for you — maybe both. “It’s my brother.”

Sarah was kind enough to drop you at your dorm despite your multiple attempts at reassuring her that you were perfectly capable of finding your dorm yourself, which you weren’t since you had no idea about the directions in this place, but still. You didn’t want to be some burden on her shoulders that she’d get annoyed of soon enough and drop it.

“See you soon, sweetie! Gonna hang out with you, ‘kay?” An unfamiliar warmth flooded in your heart as you shyly waved at her while she walked away, her figure soon disappearing. Sighing to yourself, you unlocked the door, finding your luggage messily dropped there. Excellent service. You supposed it was nice enough of them for not making you walk around with that heavy luggage of yours for the entire day.

Sighing tiredly, you plopped down onto the bed that seemingly was yours, eyes trailing over to the other side of the room. It was, well, something. Clean and someone had already unpacked everything. You could only pray that this roommate of yours was intent on being this clean for the entirety of the year. It was relaxing at least, the quietness within this room, the cold pillows and sheets. Perhaps you were a little too tired, eyes growing heavier and heavier until you eventually fell asleep, forgetting about all the problems for a while.

You were jolted awake from whatever commotion was taking place outside your dorm, your brows furrowing in confusion, vision still trying to adjust to the surroundings. The sky blue had soon dissolved into bleeding orange hues outside the window, some clouds lingering. You really did sleep a lot it seemed, stretching your arms up, a relieved groan leaving you. Now about the noises.

Reluctantly, you got up and opened the door just a bit too look outside, growing uncomfortable at the sight of some friends laughing around lightly and chugging down whatever it was that they were drinking. A part of you wanted to step up and tell them to stop disrupting your peace, but that thought alone made your stomach ache anxiously. Sighing, you closed the door back again.

A few minutes passed by until the sudden sound of the door opening made you flinch, eyes snapping over to the person who just walked in.

“Stop fucking around, Topper. Y’know my sister’s a bitch.” His voice was a bit slurred, just a little. You most probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for you seeing him drinking around earlier. His eyes were blue, hair short and a neat shade of light brown, combed back beneath his hat. Under the cozy dim lights of the room and the light coming from outside through the parted door where he stood, you could make out the warm flush coating his cheeks, lips slicken, some reddish marks peppered on his neck which were less like bruises and more like hickeys. Who were you even kidding? They are hickeys. His clothes were preppy, and normally you’d have gagged because he just grossly screamed rich, but he seemed attractive enough.

Though none of that really mattered. It soon dawned onto you that he was Sarah’s sister, so comfortably calling her a bitch. Quite the bully of a big brother he seemed to be in your eyes. You silently sat there, looking at him in confusion until he soon turned around to close the door, eyes widening at the sight of you. Was that a flinch?

“What the fuck?”

“Um… I am your new roommate.” You ignored his words, feeling embarrassed enough by even introducing yourself to him. His brows rose a bit, soon remembering that he indeed had a new roommate assigned. His roommates were always changing and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Not his fault that they were incapable of handling him.

“I see….” He trailed off, taking off his cap and tossing it on his bed, slumping down on the mattress as he groaned. “I’m Rafe.”

You hummed, an uneasy silence falling in between you which definitely didn’t affect him, already engrossed on his phone, mumbling silently and incoherently to himself.

“Well, you won’t see much of me. I mostly spend the nights at the frat house.” Ah. So he was one of those guys. You wondered why you hadn’t deduced that earlier, he was like a walking example of what a frat boy was like. Again, you hummed as a response, not really knowing what to say. It was clear that even in this factory, he was different from Sarah. Where conversations flowed easily with her despite it being only your first day, something about him was just so, well, unwelcoming. You giggled softly at the thought without realising it, causing him to glance over at you curiously, eyes squinting.

Strange, you were strange. Even if you were new, you just looked so out of place. Rafe knew a good couple of people to reach that conclusion, not caring if he was getting ahead of himself.

“So… ya new here?”

“Yes.”

“You likin’ this place so far?”

“It’s… decent.”

Short answers and pointless questions, Rafe internally groaned at himself for even trying. He was just so fucking bored, in need of something interesting in his life and new people generally were quite interesting. Perhaps you were the exception.

“Not much fun are you, huh?” He couldn’t help but scoff, slightly annoyed. He tossed his phone aside and sat up on the bed, scrutinising you with his stare alone, as if trying to unravel past the bars you’d build around you. “Y’know we’re roomies now, We should get along.” He added, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips.

“Maybe if you hadn’t called her a bitch.” You blurted out, eyes widening at the slip of your tongue, quickly looking at him. It was easy to decipher who the ‘her’ was, his jaw clenching and brows drawing together. The way his body fidgeted at that made you wonder if he’d say something aloud, if he’d get angry. you weren’t great in reading body languages, but for some reason, you were inquisitive when it came to him.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about. You are my sister’s friend, huh? Well that explains it.” He scoffed bitterly, disappointed as he rubbed the side of his neck, right where those hickeys were, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’ at all. Just don’t bother me, ‘kay? I’ve got stuff to do.”

The passive aggressiveness was starting to piss you off, soon wondering if this really was the worst possible roommate one could have. While he seemed to keep the surroundings clean to your liking — for now — his attitude was meant to intimidate you. Setting his control, a line between you both — his class.

Tension hung in the air, your fingers tightly clenching into the hem of your shirt, aching to grab your phone and break out of your frozen state but you couldn’t, eyes fixated on him which stared right back at you. Not particularly a staring contest. It was something else, something that made you want to throw a pillow at him out of frustration. You’d have assumed your first day would pass by calmly, that everything will turn out to be alright. But this fucking-

Rafe clicked his tongue and rolled over, laying down on his bed once again, his back facing you. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding in, laying down to grab your phone.

Oh yes, Sarah. You remembered that you’d saved her number. After a few minutes of hesitation and not wanting to disturb her, you gave in.

Something deep within gnawed at you for not telling her about what Rafe was talking about behind her back, but maybe that was a norm for them. You didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to step foot into unknown territory that’d cause havoc to the peace you’re desperately trying to build up.

No, it was much better to just observe from afar. Plus the thought of hanging out with new people seemed to somewhat excite you. If they are Sarah’s friends, they must be nice too.

Though her words kept playing in your head. He’s trouble. Maybe you really were naive, walking into a trap without even realising it. But you’d always been like, hadn’t you? Even when you were young, even when you were in front of him.

“It’ll be alright…” You whisper to yourself. As long as that man stays away from your mother and you, everything will be alright. After all, that’s what it was for. To be safe.

As you drifted into sleep after a good half an hour of just thinking about everything, Rafe rolled over once again to stare at your back, eyes boring into your sleep form unbeknownst. Blank gaze, really, but something about you just seemed to tick him off, not in a threatening way. He couldn’t pinpoint it, which just heightened his frustrations. It wasn’t necessarily a stare with wrong intent, no. Simple observation, a need to know more about you.

Not that he was interested.

Maybe you were just another sweet bug he could hold in his palm and then squeeze a bit too tight.

[blckbrrybasket]

1. “Hotter Than A Burning Fire”

Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

꒰Face Sitting + Inexperienced꒱ - 1.6k

• oral (f receiving), mentions of fingering and masturbation, friends to lovers

kinktober m.list

Your hand swept over the wrinkles of the blankets, smoothing them down only for another ripple to appear where you couldn’t reach it. A groan erupted from your mouth, only silenced when Robin dropped her hand on top of the ripple, eliminating it. You snickered and turned to look at her lying beside you, “Thank you,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Yet, she didn’t look as amused as she usually would. In fact, Robin looked worried. “Robin?” She blinked at her name, snapping out of whatever daze it was. You had no clue her trance was due to the fact you had abandoned your shirt on the floor from the heat. Robin had done the same, severely underestimating what seeing you in your underwear would do to her body and mind.

Both of you had your feet propped up on your respective pillows, laying upside down in the heated room. The summer in Hawkins was hot, but the humidity was unbearable at best. Even with your ceiling fan at full blast you were sticky from the muggy heat. Robin was in the same boat, except her shorts were more uncomfortably syrupy when she noticed the outline of your soft nipples under your bra.

So much was shown yet not enough. Robin had opted for wearing a pair of your smaller shorts, the secure material making it hard to ignore the slick being pressed back up against her heated skin. “Huh?” Robin asked blindly, turning her head to look at you. “Are you okay?” Your voice was breathless, laughing out your question at her red face.

Her mouth felt dryer than a fucking desert when she studied your face. Robin’s eyes felt a magnetic pull to look at your chest again, but she held back, internally panicking at her turmoil. “Yeah. No, yeah I’m okay…totally fine. Why?” The corner of your lips curled up towards a smirk, “You look a little hot over there.” If her cheeks hadn’t been red before, they were one hundred percent cherry red now.

“What!?” She blurted out to your shock and bemusement, shooting up. “You look…hot? Ohhhh!” You erupted into giggles, sitting up after her. “No, no, like temperature wise, Rob. But I mean, sure that way too.” Robin had died and gone to heaven, she was sure of it. Sometime between you taking your shirt off and the both of you lying down she had succumbed to heatstroke. “You can’t say that!”

“Why can’t I? I just did.” You teased, leaning into her space when you sensed her fluster. It didn’t take a fortune teller to show how riled up she was, your words aside. You honestly didn’t know how she had figured you wouldn’t notice the way her thighs had been rubbing together for the past few minutes. Robin choked, leaning back when you leaned towards her, your arm slithering around her waist to pull her back onto the bed, and you, when she slipped. “Careful,” you murmured smugly.

Shit. If that wasn’t the hottest thing she had heard, she didn’t know what was. All she could do was nod at your warning, leaning back into you. When she noticed your eyes trailing down she let hers fall, looking at her thighs spreading over your knees. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a compromising position, not by a long shot. It also wasn’t the first time she felt like this.

She could go home and finger herself to quell the ache for a bit, but it always came back around you. Only you. She wanted you so badly it hurt, even without a notch of experience under her belt. You could take the lead, she wouldn’t mind one bit. Robin could sometimes mask how much you messed with her head, but watching a droplet of her arousal roll down her freckled thigh she knew there was no hiding that.

The click of your tongue had her perking her head up, lips parting in surprise when your fingertip swept up her inner thigh. “You’re that hot?” Your question was borderline a joke knowing it wasn’t sweat, but it offered her a way out. She felt the pause of your fingers, settling where you had smeared her wetness. However, your reaction spurred her on. You hadn’t seemed grossed out, the opposite of it with how your eyes were locked on the silhouette of her cunt in your shorts.

Robin couldn’t tear her eyes away from your face though, “No.” “Are you finally speechless?” The following silence answered your question, eyes finding her wide ones. “Need me to take care of that?” Surely, she was truly dead this time. Her slow nod wasn’t good enough for you, fingers sliding away. “Please,” she whined, face dropping to a pathetic pleading expression.

You grinned, all teeth when your fingers roughly hooked around the edge of your shorts, dragging her forward. “There’s my talkative girl.” Robin rewarded you with a shaky sigh, eyes falling shut as your fingers relaxed, turning to slide through her folds. You had no clue she had gone commando under your shorts, but the wet material you felt on the back of your knuckles removed any potential aversion to her choice. You’d use them later, but for now you needed to take care of her.

Robin’s folds were so swollen you could easily sink two flattened fingers between them and have them disappear without having to push them into her fluttering entrance. “Why don’t you get out of these?” If the offer wasn’t enough, the way your fingers curled to gently pet her pussy had her head reeling. “Good idea,” she rushed to bend over, your fingertips barely dipping into her cunt at the new angle, slipping out to give her space.

Her eyebrows pinched together when she whined, hurriedly shoving her shorts off. You watched as she squirmed in frustration, kicking them haphazardly. Granting her more room, you turned and laid back on your bed, licking your fingers clean. Her musk was tangy, wetness thick like molasses. Perfect.

Robin triumphantly let the shorts fall to the ground, slipping them off her ankle, when she raised her head to look at you. The shape of your fingertips poked at your cheeks as you sucked your fingers clean. “Jesus,” she sighed, stumbling to crawl over you. Robin seemed to realize what position you were in, pausing to hover over your abdomen.

You answered her before she needed to ask where to sit. Well…you answered in a way. Smirking, you tapped your lips with two fingers that still shone with your spit. “No way,” Robin gasped. “I’ll crush you!” You laughed at her statement, “Good way to go,” you murmured. The palms of your hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs, urging her up your body. Robin shakily moved up to kneel over your face.

“Are you sure?” Her voice came out as a squeak, cut off by you confidently pulling her down. The first thing you felt was the heat of her pussy soaking into your skin, the second being her actually soaking her skin. Robin whined, squirming as she tried to get used to sitting on your face while she held onto the headboard.

Only once she finally settled, did you draw your tongue up through her folds. Tasting her on your fingers was good, but nothing compared to it straight from the source. Instantly, Robin gave a wobbly mewl, not surprising you that she was loud. With how often she rambled on or was brash in day-to-day settings, it made it plausible that she was loud in bed. You definitely had never thought about it before.

Did it even matter to deny it anymore when Robin was humping your face so desperately? One second you were lapping languidly at her cunt, the next her hips speeding up newfound determination. Laying your tongue flat, you let her ride it as she pleased. “Oh shit, ohmygod. Thank you, thank you..” Any following words died in her throat as you flicked your tongue against her sensitive clit.

Something akin to a squeal left her lips, her hips jolting yet not moving far with your grip on her thighs keeping her to your face. Her hands clutched the wood of your headboard, straining under her grip and she knew she would be addicted to your mouth. Robin couldn’t find it inside herself to be embarrassed at the sounds her pussy made, molten on your mouth. You didn’t care either, pulling her down further to put your heart and soul into teasing her clit.

Swirling the tip of your sharp tongue around the bundle of nerves, your lips cupped it gently contrasting how you sucked adamantly. Robin fell farther into silence, at a loss for words, hips almost bouncing as she tilted her head back. Her blue eyes disappeared from sight, rolling back as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

She wished she could verbalize how good it felt, to keep doing that right there, but this was a rare occasion of her completely shutting up. The only indication of her impending release was her tensing body and the choked sound she finally let pass her chapped lips.

One, two, three sucks more and her thighs were clamped around your head. Your reward came as did she, salty cum dripping into your mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut at your happy moan when you hungrily drank her up. Stars burst behind her eyes at your continued ministrations, disgustingly loud sounds finally leaving her again.

You took the cue, reluctantly unlatching from her bullied pussy. Robin sat mounted on your face, head fuzzy until you tapped her thigh a moment later. She slowly moved back, sitting on your chest as she panted and looked down at you. “That good?” Even with her blurry vision she could see your wide smirk. “Shut up,” She smiled, leaning down to lick your soaked chin clean.

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @marirxse, @chx-rrryc0la, @adventures-of-impala, @shesadilema13

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Miguel O’Hara x spider-person!reader

Summary: Reader returns to the web of life after a run in with another spider person. Miguel of course isn’t too happy to hear about them interfering with other dimensions.

Warnings: smut- slutty smut | Miguel using his fangs and Talons to tease | Backshots? 🫶 | A little degrading | Choking | Kinda fluffy ig? | Miguel might be outta character but whatever

She gulped, hands fiddling with one another as she walked through the twisting cavern where all of the other spider people resided. She knew she had screwed up, but she wasn’t about to let someone punch her and get away with it. Even if it may or may not have screwed up a timeline or two. Typically she’d find a way to avoid such a thing, or at least fix it. But this time, he had found out before she could do anything.

It’s not as though she didn’t like Miguel. In fact, the two had flirted once or twice. But it would seem their little fling was merely that. A fling. Which is why she was expecting a harsh lecture from the man.

She entered the lab he stayed in, the bright red, blue, and yellow lights beginning to overstimulate her eyes. Yet the large dark figure standing amongst it all is what kept her attention. “How many times do I have tell you?—“ He turned around, the lenses of his mask narrowing as he glared down at her. “You don’t go off without back up. Now you’ve gone and messed everything up Y/N.” He wasn’t wrong, and she knew it. That was why his words irritated her so. Her brows knitted, her twisting into a frown as she spoke up.

“You go out without backup all of the time Miguel. So how is this any different.” Her snarky comment seemed to do something to the Spider-Man, because he now found himself curling his hands open and closed as he inches closer to her. “Is that your excuse Y/N?” His curt response didn’t come as any shock to her, and all she could seem to do was shake her head and cross her arms. “That’s what I thought.”

That little comment only added more fuel to the fire. Her eyes narrowed beneath her mask, her arms unfolding as she turned around and began to walk away. She wouldn’t listen to his idiotic comments. Not today. Instead she attempted to excuse herself before she said anything she would regret. Although it would seem to be too late for that. In an instant she found her body being pushed against a cluttered desk, her cheek smushed against the cool metal. Her wrists were pinned beside her head, large firm hands grasping each. “Miggy— what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m getting sick of that attitude Y/N. Always rolling your eyes and making stupid jokes.” She jolted, the soft graze of a needle drawing her attention. Except, it wasn’t a needle. It was the small talons on his finger tips gently pricking at her suit. The odd feeling brought an even odder feeling within her stomach. And soon she found herself trying to look back at Miguel who was currently teasing at her shoulder blades with his fangs. They were sharp and prickled her back in just the right way. “Miggy..” She sputtered as her back arched, hips curving up in an attempt to get even the tiniest bit of friction. “Sit still.” Was all she received.

His hands traveled down her body, slowly trailing down her back, following the slight curve of her spine until finally his hands remained firm on her ass. His thumbs grazed over her bottom, squeezing and fondling as his kisses along her back trailed down. “Oh crap—“ Cool air slipped into her suit as the crotch area was torn through the middle and something warm intruded. Miguel’s finger rubbed circles around her sensitive area, the soft fabric of her panties drawing a chuckle from him. “So quick with comebacks, and now you’re wiggling your hips for me like a slut. How cute.” The sarcasm in his voice almost made her tell him to shut up, but his tongue interrupted before she could get another word out. The warmth of his tongue felt unfamiliar, as did the resounding slap that echoed through the place. Her ass stung, a whine leaving her as his thumb rubbed circles around the stricken area. “You’ll be fine.” He grumbled before he began to lap at her cunt. His tongue worked at her clit, licking and slurping lazily. And while he wasn’t even trying, she found herself humming softly at his touch. He continued to lap at her while using his hands to keep her in place. “Damnit wait-“

For once Miguel actually listened. His tongue no longer pressed pleasantly against her body, and he instead stood from his knees. “I didn’t mean literally- I just-“

Smack

A yelp of surprise bounced off the walls, her head lifting as Miguel’s hand remained stuck to her behind. A small smile was on his lips, the lenses of his mask narrowing ever so slightly. She knew that look. Miguel lifted one of her legs, hoisting it onto the table so that one leg was up and the other supported her. The bottom half of his suit was pushed down to his upper thighs, his happy trail peeking beneath the upper half of his suit. His meaty thighs flexed as he moved himself closer, and that’s when she felt the soft tip of his cock. It rutted against the side of her thigh, precum sticking to her skin as his hands found the small of her back. “Keep your legs spread like that. It might be a tight fit.”

-

“Miggy please! I can’t-“ Papers that had previously been on the metal desk were low strewn about, littering the floor. Her cheek was pressed against the desk, Miguel’s hand tangling in her hair as his heavy thrusts drew a moan from her each time. She could hear his hot breaths, and feel the way his abs flexed against her back as he leaned against her. Miguel’s fangs pricked at the top of her ear, his harsh pants making her clit throb. His hand that wasn’t occupied with her hair came down to squeeze at her curves, just as her pretty cunt squeezed perfectly at his cock. She gushed around him, squelches filling the room as he continued to pound into her.

Miguel was growing rougher, needier. He slipped his cock out and lifted her from the desk. Her feet met the floor, shaky and uneasy. “Spread your legs a little more. I won’t fit if you don’t.” He demanded as he kicked her legs apart a bit more. His hands returned to her body, one finding her neck while the other rested on her lower abdomen. “God, I was hoping you’d act like a bitch so I could’ve fucked that attitude out of you..but seeing how you melt for me..” His cock slipped back in, his hand trailing down from her stomach to her clit. He gave it the occasional rub, synchronizing it with every thrust. The act only drew more moans from her, her head lulling back onto his chest. “If you keep groaning like that I might cum mi amor..” His words, while a warning, only lured her in. She began to roll her hips as best she could, the friction causing Miguel’s breath to hitch. “Fuck you’re really are my slut huh? Cmere.”

His hips fucked into hers, the resounding slaps of skin being drowned out by their moans and groans. His cock throbbed inside of her as her orgasm caused her to tighten up. “Oh crap miggy…” She cursed under her breath. “Yeah I know baby..” He responded as his lips found hers, a slow sensual kiss ensuing. His finger swirled at her clit as he slipped his cock out, now fucking her thighs instead. The combined stimulation had her hunching over, her legs shaking as her orgasm crashed over her. “Y/N you’re spilling all over..fuck me.” Miguel groaned out, his head falling back as he bit back a moan. With his jaw clenched tight and sweat sheening his forehead, he came. Spurts of white decorated the messy desk, along with Y/Ns spider suit.

“Well fuck..if I would’ve known that was all it took to get you to fuck me then damn..” She chuckled breathily, her hands grasping at the desk as she attempted to steady herself.

“Shush, don’t ruin the moment..” Miguel placed a gentle kiss on the side of her neck, a groan leaving him as he wrapped his arms around her torso. “You’re still in trouble.”

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt 4)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 7.9k (yikes omg)Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, fluffy and softness, Logan gives you a bath and also makes food, Wade is so gentle and cute, lots of kissing!!, descriptions of bruises, mildly horny? Author's note: Hi lovelies!! Take some intense fluff and softness! I maybe made Wade a little too serious in a spot but I just needed it, we all needed it after how intense that last chapter was <3 This is also an eternity long omg, but the comfort took me over, mind and soul. Next chapter is the last one :’( it makes me so sad to think that this will be over soon. But it’s going to be THE chapter. All the sexual tension is finally going to be resolved. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararosesblog @harryshousewhore @bontensbabygirl @belgium2 @g0ldenstarr @wolvndmouth @sseleniaa @reddesires

The next hours passed in a haze. A group of men in large cars picked us up. No flashing lights pierced through my closed eyelids, so I didn’t think they were police. Logan kept me in his arms, growls rumbling through his chest whenever someone came closer. At some point my numb hands pushed his mask away. I just want to see him, see the comforting lines of his face, finally be able to read his expression. But my brain was sluggish, unable to make sense of him as he blinked up at me. Instead, I nuzzled my face into his cheek, smearing blood on his skin, eyes drooping closed. 

 Then I was in a bright room and a woman was talking to me. She was wearing a lab coat but I didn’t seem to be in a hospital. Logan and Wade weren’t in the room with me. She told me she was a mutant that would be able to heal me, but not completely, that I would still be stiff and my wound would turn to a horrible bruise. I just gave weak acknowledgements to all her questions. I barely felt the discomfort of my skin and muscles knitting themselves back together. Her touch was gentle as she wiped away the gore from my face and hair, the same healing ability applied to my busted lip and aching cheeks. She handed me a bottle of painkillers, telling me I would need to rest for at least a week. I was grateful that she also gave me a pair of thin pants and slip-on shoes. She helped me hobble to the door and out into a bare hallway. That’s where I found a mask less Wade, bouncing his legs in a chair that seemed near breaking point, and Logan pacing, his hair messy from running his fingers through it. They both sprung toward me and I collapsed into Logan’s awaiting arms. Wade kissed my temple as his hand caressed down my back. The woman explained my situation to them before she disappeared again. 

“We’re going to stay over, at least tonight, okay sugar muffin?” 

“Can you stay longer?” The idea of being alone, especially in my apartment, made my head scream in resistance. My hands scrambled against Logan’s costume, trying to cling to him, to make sure he stayed right here next to me. 

“Of course sweetheart,” Logan murmured, “we can stay as long as you need us to.” His beard scrubbed at my forehead as he drew me close. 

“I’ll go back to the apartment and grab our stuff then.” Wade parted with one last peck at my cheek. Logan let me rest my head against him for a long moment. The fact that I was alive, that I had survived everything hadn’t settled in quiet yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I broke down. Maybe Logan knew it as acutely as I did because he lifted me into his arms once again. My consciousness blinked in and out. We were in a car that smelled of cleaner. We passed by the bright skyscrapers. Then I was being jostled once more as Logan stepped out of the car. He placed me on my feet before crouching down in front of me. I didn’t ask for an explanation and just climbed onto his back, arms and legs latched around him. He climbed the steps to my fourth floor apartment. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” I whispered, lips next to his ear. His hand squeezed my uninjured thigh. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I have plenty more that you can have.” By the time we exited the dingy stairwell, dawn was peaking through the hallways windows. Wade had clearly told him my apartment number, or I had in my pain induced delirium, because he found my door easily. I glanced down. 

“I guess my pizza actually was delivered. Probably bad now though.” I would have thought after two weeks it would have been taken away or would have started to smell. Odd. Logan jiggled my door open and brought us inside, catching the pizza box with his foot and bringing that in as well. My body felt lethargic as I let go of Logan. My healing leg felt far stronger than before, only minor tremors in the muscle. He was drifting through my kitchen, filling a glass with cool water from my fridge, grabbing snacks from my cabinet. “Can we take a bath?” He studied me, worry etched onto his lined face. “I don’t think I have the energy to do it myself.” 

“Drink this,” he tapped the glass, “and eat this first,” he pushed a small packet of crackers toward me. I did as he asked but didn’t sit. If I did, I doubted I would get back up again. He watched me closely, like I had any reason to hide from him. Once the glass was empty and the crackers gone, I trudged to my bathroom. My leg was tense and hard to move. The doctor had done a good job healing my face, leaving me only with two twin bruises on my cheeks. They were already in the yellow stage of bruising and would be gone within a few days. I stood in the familiar space for a moment. Something soothed in my soul at the sight of my towels, the new ones that were like a cloud. I felt back to myself, if only a bit. 

While I waited for Logan to join me, I brushed my teeth. Twice. Then I raked a comb through my knotted hair. I started the bath, not caring about my neighbors and the early hour. When I turned, I found Logan in the doorway, naked. The small horny part of my brain shouted at the rest of it to take in every inch of his sculpted body. But I just didn’t have the energy. “Sorry,” he huffed, sounding a little self conscious. “The suits are hard to get out of without looking stupid.” 

“Hopefully you can help me out of these,” I plucked at my shirt, “without making me look too stupid.” Fine, a small win for horny brain. He approached me in tentative steps, like I was about to attack him or scream. “Logan, I’m not scared of you.” His face relaxed, if only slightly, but he didn’t seem reassured. 

His hands were gentle as he lifted the filthy shirt off me. The calluses whispered across my hips as he reached for my pants, thumbs hooked through my panties, and let them pool around my feet. I braced myself on his shoulders so I could remove my shoes. Logan’s eyes drank my body in before he closed them and shook his head once. “Not the right time,” he grumbled to himself. He stalked to the tub, sitting himself on the lip, before testing the waters with one thick finger. It was seemingly up to his standards and he shut the water off. He collected a washcloth, soap, shampoo, and conditioner before he lowered himself into the hot water. A little groan escaped his throat, neck bared as it fell back. There was a firm muscle in his jaw that relaxed as he sunk into the hot water.  Steam filled the bathroom, the mirror foggy. It made him look like something from the cover of a romance novel, too handsome and otherworldly to be real. He propped one wet arm up on the edge of the tub and I followed a drop of water as it traced down a vein. “You just gonna stand there and stare, princess?” 

I shrugged. “Nice to stare at.” I climbed into the tub, settling between his spread legs, melting into his comforting body. I watched as the blood coating my legs and torso swirled into the clear water, tinting it pink. We didn’t speak for several long minutes, the plunk of the dripping faucet the only sound echoing in the room. My thigh ached but the tight muscle started to loosen the longer I soaked. I absently rubbed at it, hoping to work the last of the soreness out, but only managed a wince of pain. His hair tickled my ear as he leaned closer. 

“Hurt?” I shook my head. His fingers outlined the injury, touch feather light. 

“If it means you keep touching me, then yes.” His chin notched itself between my shoulder and neck. But he kept up his soft touches, his other thick arm curled loosely around my stomach. It seemed like he was intending to let silence fall again. “Why the new nickname?” The question popped out just to give him a reason to keep talking. 

“Wade has a new one every time he talks to you, thought I would try. I thought sweetheart would be dull by now. Don’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that,” I teased, wet fingers running through his hair. “I figured you would be very old fashioned with your pet names.” I felt his chest rumble with a restrained chuckle. His chest hair tickled at my back. We lapsed into silence again. As it stretched, my mind started to wonder. 

The man’s brain splattering across my face. 

The crack of the wood seat as the knife drove in deeper. 

The creeping numbness in my feet. 

The sight of a man walking through my bedroom door. 

“Hey,” Logan whispered against my ear, “come back to me.” I shuddered and clutched at his arm, wrapping it tighter around me, nails digging into his flesh. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me. Good job,” his big hand rested on my chest, right over my heart. “Deep breath again, okay?” I did as he said. His hand pushed down against me in a comforting press as I breathed out. I took five more inhales before he removed his hand. “You’re safe, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” I said, trying to reassure myself. I knew I was. I trusted Logan and Wade with my life. But I felt a confusing mix of vulnerability and numbness. I wanted to cry, to break down at the injustices done upon me. I also wanted to retreat into myself and become nothing but a husk of my former self. Logan gave me a light kiss on the cheek. 

“Time to clean you up I think.” I nodded. He was, as always, gentle. He used a plastic cup to spill water down my hair, hand braced along my forehead to stop any from falling into my eyes. He shampooed my hair three times, trying to get every bit of blood out. His fingers massaged into my scalp and I let out satisfied sighs at the feeling. 

“You’re good at this.” The last of the shampoo was washed away, sending a cascade of soap down my spine. He pumped a generous amount of conditioner into his hand before spreading it along the ends of my hair. He worked diligently through the knots, never tugging or ripping. 

“I’ve had a lot of…” his voice trailed off, seeming uncertain. 

“Girlfriends?” 

“I was going to say practice.” My lips twitched. “Lean forward.” I drew my knees up and rested my head on them. I heard the squirt of soap a moment before the washcloth touched my back. He rubbed in smooth circles, just the right of pressure applied. Eventually his hand curved over my shoulder and I sunk back against him. He was thorough, scrubbing spots I often passed over quickly. The hollow of my throat, the ditch of my elbows, between each of my fingers, behind my ears. Something hard nudged against my back. I pushed experimentally back against him. He let out a hiss and stilled my hips with a single hand. “No. Not now, just relax.” 

“That usually does help me relax.” His hand disappeared under the cloudy water to scrub at my legs. I sat up suddenly and spun, a small wave of water spilling out of the side of the tub. My legs braced themselves on either side of his hips and my hands landed on his shoulders. I caught his hazel eyes flashing down to my breasts where they squished against his chest, before he looked back up at me. “You’re so handsome,” I purred, fingers mapping lines of his face. 

“Hey,” his tone was commanding, but not mean, as his hands latched around my wrists. I tried to catch his lips but he was able to avoid me. 

“Distract me,” I plead. 

“Not like that.” I struggled a moment longer and then I deflated. My forehead fell, landing against his, eyes shut tight. Self consciousness and shame bit at me. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t…I just don’t want to think about it anymore.” 

“Don’t have to apologize, princess.” He brushed my damp hair off my shoulders, hand trailing up my pulse point, before rubbing along my cheekbone. “Let’s get you in bed. I know all your emotions are keeping you up, but you’ll crash soon. You don’t have to worry about anything else until you’re ready.” I groaned.

“Shit, I have to call work. That’s assuming I’m not fired for being gone for weeks.” His thumb stopped. He drew back, pinching my chin, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“Weeks?” 

“Yeah,” I mumbled, looking at him with confusion. “Well maybe more, I was trying to count by the sun.” I pointed at the ceiling to convey the sunroof. He blinked, brows knitted together. “What?” 

“You were only gone for about half a day. Wade started panicking when you didn’t text him that you made it home.” My mind spun. “We would’ve never let you be taken that long.” 

“So, what, it was some illusion?” The water had grown tepid. My thumb nail broke easily when I began biting it after it’s prolonged soak. The fact I could track my days was one of my saving graces. It kept my mind anchored to reality as I sat, bleeding out. But it was all a lie. Why? Logan tugged at my wrist, taking the nail away from me, giving the abused finger a kiss. 

“That woman,” Logan hummed, voice slow as he thought. “She was a mutant. I think she could fuck with time or make us feel like she did. Wade said it felt weird right before he killed her, like he was moving too slow.” That would explain all the odd inconsistencies. The woman standing outside the door for weeks. Bleeding out for days without dying. Never feeling hungry or needing to use the bathroom. 

“Why? Why would they do that to…ah.” 

“What?” He was back to watching me like I was half feral, like I would attack him. It was a heartbreaking combination of weariness and open affection. 

“The man told me that,” my voice stuttered. His touch was light as it moved down my back, disappearing under the water to my waist. “He said that you guys wouldn’t-“ I hated that my eyes now decided to sting. That I was breaking at this, about him. 

“Don’t have to say anything sweetheart.” I shook my head, wet hair sticking to my shoulders. I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands that had curled from the hot water. 

“He said you guys didn’t,” I glanced down, looking at his chest instead, connecting the splatter of moles along his skin. “That you guys didn’t care or want me around anymore. That’s why you were taking so long.”  He growled, the sound reverberating through the water. 

“He’s wrong.” He aimed to reassure, but it was rough around the edges, anger tearing at the corners. It was very Logan. “We want you around as long as you’ll have us.” That mounting anxiety inside me began to dissipate. “Listen,” he squeezed my waist for extra emphasis, “don’t think of that waste of space. He deserved everything that happened to him and more. Everything he ever said to you was a fucking lie.” I nodded and leaned in for a kiss but paused. 

“Just one.” Logan hesitated. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He grinned and my heart stuttered at the sight. A true Logan grin was like spotting a shooting star, quick and stunning. 

“I remember what your last kiss was like, I’m not sure I’ll survive it again. Having you against me has been enough torture.” Pride made me smile at him. 

“Later then?” He nodded but gave me a quick peck anyways. I didn’t rush after him. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. He cleared his throat. “I promise, I’ll take care of you, do whatever you need, give you anything I can.” My heartbeat stumbled and I blinked back a wave of tears. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been there for you.” His fingers danced along my shoulders. The action felt a little shy, nervous even. But his gaze never left mine. “But I,” his voice died for a moment. He cleared his throat again. “But I don’t want to let you go, not anymore.” I opened my mouth, ready to say he already had me, that I was never going anywhere, but he covered it with his wet hand. “Don’t say anything sweetheart. Just let me help you.” Reluctantly, I nodded. 

He washed the long forgotten conditioner out of my hair before he rose from the bath. I nearly drooled at the sight of his thighs, thick with muscles and covered in a dusting of dark hair. I tried to avoid looking at his dick, it would only rile me up, but I caught a brief sight of it anyways as he stepped from the tub. The tip was a dusky pink and it looked wide. He padded over to my towel rack and grabbed one for each of us. He kept his back, and perfect bubble butt, to me as he dried himself off. While he did, I pulled the stopper from the drain and let the dirty water swirl away. He wrapped the towel around his waist before he turned back to me. 

Logan carefully guided me out of the bath, both hands gripping my arms. Being back on my feet reminded me of the wound on my leg and I grimaced at the tremble that went through it. “Need some of the pills?” I shook my head. I was tempted to look at the injury but my empty stomach lurched at the idea. 

“No,” he squeezed the towel over my wet hair, “the water just felt nice. Gravity is a bitch.” Logan chuckled but still looked worried. When my hair was only slightly damp, he moved to the rest of my body. I let him rub me down, giggling as he found ticklish spots in his thorough work. Occasionally his lips would ghost over where he had just wiped, my knee, my hip, the rib nearest my breast. They were always light and fleeting, but I relished them nonetheless. 

Once I was thoroughly dry, he hung my towel back up. He caught my shoulders before I left the bathroom. “Don’t panic, Wade’s been back for about thirty minutes.” I quirked an eyebrow. 

“And he’s just been sitting there? Without saying anything?” 

“Trust me it’s been hard! Just like me honestly.” Logan sighed, eyes flicking to the ceiling, asking anything that would listen for patience. But I smiled and walked into my short hallway and found Wade sitting on my couch. He was surrounded by an obscene amount of bags. He had changed into a pair of X-Men branded pajama bottoms. When Wade saw me, completely naked, haloed by the dawn light, he made a strangled noise. “Holy fuck, oh my god, shit.” He glanced down at his cock, which was indeed very hard, tenting in a comical way. It gave a noticeable twitch. 

“Calm down bub,” Logan growled, skirting around me to reach Wade and the bags. He glowered down at the other man’s pants. “She’s going to sleep and you,” he punched Wade’s arm for emphasis, “are gonna leave her alone.” Wade whined, head thumping against the back of the couch. Logan opened a bag, fishing out a shirt and boxers, along with a toothbrush. He dropped his towel, not caring that the blinds in the living room were wide open. Both me and Wade tilted our heads, gaze skating over Logan’s exposed body before he covered it with his underwear. He picked the towel up and went to put it back in the bathroom. He handed me the shirt, “don’t get brains on this one.” 

As I took the worn shirt, he turned, but I stopped him with a hand to his cheek. “Thank you.” His hazel eyes nearly glittered in the rising sun’s rays. I gave him a kiss, just on the heavy side of chaste, but not what either of us craved. I drew back first and left him lingering, eyes half closed. I turned on my heel and into my bedroom. As I was picking up a fresh pair of underwear, I spotted Wade coming into my room as well. The faucet in the sink began to run. Exhaustion was finally starting to prickle at me and I yawned so hard my jaw popped. 

“You’re so tired, let me help you.” Wade tugged the underwear from me before falling to his knees. He stared unabashedly at my pussy. I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. I was sure to give him a show, stepping into the stretched underwear one leg at a time, spreading myself open more than needed, my hand planted on his head for balance. He was slow to move it up my body, rising into increasingly hunched positions to keep the underwear level with his eyes. He left them down to reveal just a bit of myself to him. He leaned forward, a little point of pink exposed between his lips. 

Logan’s hand clamped around his neck, hoisting him straight, like a mama cat with her misbehaving kitten. “So bad at following directions. Go brush your teeth, asshole.” 

“Yes daddy.” Logan grunted in response. “You sound much scarier all growly like that. Much hotter too.” Wade dodged Logan’s fist as it swung toward him. He scampered away, winking, before the bathroom door shut. 

“Insufferable.” Logan scanned me and I hastily tugged the shirt over my torso. “Good girl, now get into bed.” I blushed but did as he said. Before I collapsed down, I snagged a hair tie and brought my still damp hair up into a haphazard bun. It would be a complete knot when I woke up, whenever that would be, but I just needed it out of my way. Logan climbed after me, the bed frame groaning under his weight. Movement outside my window caught my eyes. It was just a bird fluttering by but a sudden spike of fear rushed through me. There was a clear handprint on the pane of glass. Logan, perhaps hearing my heart rate increase, followed my gaze. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, going to my window to shut the blinds. The room dimmed, the blinds cutting off the bright morning light. “No one will be able to get in here without Wade or me knowing.”  

“I know,” I sighed, curling under my sheets. The bed creaked again as Logan joined me. His arms were like steel rods as they latched around me, drawing me flush against his firm body. He tucked his forehead against the nape of my neck and his breath tickled at the hair dangling there. His breathing was slow and even. My eyes drifted shut, chest synching with his. As if from down a long hallway, I heard Wade make some comment about how cute we looked. Logan’s chest rumbled in response. 

The first thing I felt when consciousness finally reached me was bumpy skin against my nose. I buried my face deeper into Wade’s chest, shifting my stiff legs to feel that ours had tangled together. My thigh twinged at the motion. “Good morning, my lovely sleeping beauty. Never thought you would wake up, thought I would have to do it with true loves fuck.” A sleepy grin tugged at my lips. 

“It’s true loves kiss, Wade,” I croaked, my throat scratchy. I must have been snoring. Cute.

“Not in the movies I watch.” I rolled to my back, stretching my body with a series of cracks and groans. Wade watched me with a hungry glint in his eyes, following Logan’s shirt drifting over my underwear and showing a sliver of stomach. I glanced at the window. With the blinds shut I wasn’t able to tell the time well, but judging by the burnt orange rays leaking through, it was either dusk or dawn. 

“What time is it?” I reached for my phone on its usual spot on my bedside table before I remembered it had been taken with me. It was probably on some long forgotten table or smashed to pieces in a fight. 

“It’s,” his phone flashed, “seven at night.” I scrubbed the lingering sleep from my eyes.

“Where’s Logan?” He wasn’t in the bed and I couldn’t hear any noise from the rest of the apartment. 

“He went to get food. According to him, you don’t eat enough protein.” I shrugged, stretching my hips open, face scrunching at the ache. My hands went to my thigh, kneading at the skin. Wade twisted, kneeling between my spread legs. His pajamas were low, the edges of his hip bones peaking above the waist band. The dim light danced across his stomach and my eyes followed along the ridges of his abs. “You have lotion?” 

“What?” I asked, half laughing, the question taking me off guard. A full giggle bubbled up inside me as his hands coasted along the crease of my thighs, fingertips catching under the elastic of my underwear. 

“Well, I can’t give you a good massage if you aren’t all slippery.” His touch drifted up, pushing farther along my hips, revealing more of my skin to him. “I know you have some, don’t get such buttery smooth skin without it.“ I pointed my thumb to my bedside table. He leaned over me, hips flush with mine, as he rifled through the drawer before he snagged the lotion. My arms snaked around his waist, pressing little kisses to his neck and cheeks. “Logan warned me that you would try to seduce me.” I gave a throaty laugh and it only seemed to rile him up, his hips adjusting between mine. 

“Do you want me to seduce you?” Wade groaned. His nose knocked against mine as he looked at me.

“No need sweetums, your snoring was as much of a turn on as I needed.” I rolled my eyes, pushing his chest back so he was kneeling once again. He grabbed the ankle of my injured leg, bracing my heel against his bare chest. 

“You sure know how to charm a girl.” He smirked and popped open the lid of the lotion with his teeth, squirting a generous amount into his hand, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up. 

“You’re still here aren’t you? Just can’t get enough of me.” I was going to give some sassy retort, but it was cut off by a surprised moan as Wade’s knuckles dug into my calf. The lotion helped his hands glide over my skin, working through knots with pressure that would have been painful without it. He moved in sweeping half circles, squeezing as he went. 

“Shit,” I mumbled, eyes drifting closed. The tips of his fingers worked at the back of my ankle with the last of the lotion. Wade’s hand disappeared before returning to just below my injury, slicked with more lotion. His motions were more controlled, the press lighter, dancing around the bruise. “How bad does it look?” I tried to keep my voice light but there was a faint shake to the words.

“It doesn’t matter how it looks,” Wade responded, fingertips brushing the damaged skin. “How does it feel?” His touch was light and nearly tickled as he doodled idly across it. 

“Doesn’t hurt, just feels numb in that spot. I can feel you touching the skin but it doesn’t feel…connected to me, I guess.” Wade hummed thoughtfully, lifting my heel to be over his shoulder, still damp hands going to the joint of my leg and hip, spreading my leg wider for him to massage. I sighed contentedly. “You’ve been holding out on me,” I teased, “should have made you give me back rubs anytime I saw you.” 

“Just trying to show you all my skills before you let me fuck your brains out.” I opened my heavy eyes to find him smiling softly down at me. I reached out and he met me halfway, resting his cheek on my offered hand. 

“We can add romance to the skill list. Who would have thought.”

“Hey,” Wade nipped my palm, sitting back on his knees. “I can’t do anything nice for Logan without him throwing a fit. So all my hopeless romanticism goes to you.” He lowered my propped up leg carefully before grabbing the other. He added more lotion to his hands. 

“Well I’m honored,” my voice tilted into a moan, back arching as he found a particularly sore spot on my calf. His eyes were glued to my torso, my belly button just peeking out from the bottom of Logan’s shirt, nipples hard enough to point under the fabric. His movement mimicked his work on my other leg, knuckles pushing deep into my tight muscles. He was able to be more thorough with this thigh since he didn’t have a bruise to dodge around. I gasped and moaned, being over dramatic just to see the look on his face. As his hands crept farther up my hips, I spread my legs wider, trying to entice him closer. 

The lotion faded but his touch didn't, fingers going under my shirt. “You’re quiet.” He nodded, middle finger dipping into my belly button and making me laugh. 

“Logan gets like this sometimes.” I cock my head in question. “He gets quiet and will just touch my face. Especially after we get back from jobs. I never really understood it.” He traced up my stomach in soft sweeps, catching the edges of my ribs. “But he’s a grumpy asshole so if I mention he’s doing it, he goes and pouts.” The shirt whispers up my skin as he exposes more of me to him, the bottom curve of my breast visible, and he takes the opportunity to run his thumbs along the sensitive skin. “I get it now though.” I wiggled my hips farther down the bed and Wade drew them higher, resting them on his thighs. “I’m not one to talk about my feelings, and if I do, it’s usually in ways that make people think I’m deranged.” 

“Well you are,” I teased. He pressed feather light kisses to my knees before throwing them over his shoulders. 

“But you love that about me, right?” 

“Ooh, throwing around the big L huh?” Wade grinned. 

“Why shouldn’t I? Life is short.” 

“Mine is, you and Logan will live forever, won’t you?” I reached up, mapping his face. 

“Logan will outlive the sun on pure spite. Who knows for me,” he inched my shirt over my chest, exposing myself completely to him. “I haven’t always been like this. I used to have to worry about my life. It always felt like I saw one wrong step away from dying. I used to be way more reckless.” I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. He tested the lengths of his healing factor beyond recklessness. “Let’s not point out my flaws while I’m trying to be sweet and open. I at least am guaranteed to live when I do dumb shit now.” I held up my hands in surrender and they moved to his forearms instead. “Even then I didn’t see a point in being guarded and ‘reasonable’. If I loved someone, I loved them.” I swallowed and I knew my cheeks were dusted with pink. “When you were taken, I realized I hadn’t told you. I don’t expect you to say it back but I just want you to know.” He circled my nipples, drawing them to peaks, and a soft sound caught in my chest. “Just think about it, yeah?” 

“I don’t need to,” I mumbled, pushing my chest into his hands. Wade’s mouth opened just as the apartment door was shoved open. My body goes tense for a moment, expecting an intruder, but Wade gave a playful tug on my exposed nipples. 

“Just the old man,” he reassured. I could hear the crinkle of paper bags being placed on my counter, the clink of my keys as he dropped them into my purse, then the light padding of Logan’s feet on the hardwood. 

“I see you’re awake,” Logan said. He strode to where Wade and I were tangled, leaning down to give me a brief kiss, his leather jacket creaking as he did. “You’re a nice sight to come home to.” I preened under the compliment. Wade tugs the shirt back over my chest with an overly jealous huff. 

“Am I not nice to come home to? And where is my loving smooch?” Logan rolls his eyes but gives in, grabbing Wade’s chin with a harsh grip and giving him a rough kiss. But Logan draws back before Wade wants him to and he chuckles at Wade’s pout. “You’re so mean to me.” Logan shakes his head, straightening, his arms crossing. 

“Uh huh. If you excuse me, I’m going to make us dinner since you,” he points an accusing finger at Wade, “would set the place on fire.” Logan, as if he couldn’t help himself, gave me another peck on the forehead. “Do you need anything princess?”

“Well for one, keep Wade out of the kitchen. I don’t have renters insurance.” Logan clicked his tongue, heading back out the bedroom. 

“You need that, especially if you’re keeping us around.” Logan disappeared around the corner. I slid my legs off Wade’s shoulders, sitting up to kiss his nose. 

“I’m going to go out by him, see if he needs any help.”

“Yeah, okay, are you sure you don’t just want to stare at his big bulging muscles?” 

“That’s just a bonus."

Wade signed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll come with you, can’t let him hog all your attention.” 

“I have to go to the bathroom first.” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed but paused. Wade slid off, offering his hands to me. I wanted to refuse, to try and do it myself, but I was afraid of my leg giving out from under me, so I allowed him to help me up. There was a dull throb but no stabs of pain or awful trembles. I appreciated that Wade let me lean on him and walk myself. I felt weak as is. These two men could heal from anything and didn’t seem to feel, or care about, pain and I was nearly debilitated by a thigh wound. 

“Can I come with you?” I walked on my stiff leg into the bathroom, flicking the light on. 

“No Wade, I can pee by myself.” 

“Aw come on, I can hold your hand.” I shook my head, closing the door on him. I took in my appearance reflected back at me in the mirror over my sink. I looked like a mess. There were lines from my pillow pressed into my cheek and my hair was sticking in every direction. I swallowed. 

I knew I needed to look, to get the anxiety out of the way. 

I nearly gagged at the sight of my thigh. The spot, about the size of my spread hand, was deep purple, nearly black. Green and yellow spiderwebbed across the edge. There were broken blood vessels across my entire thigh. I touched it timidly and scrunched my face at the odd numbness. It didn’t hurt to touch, the pain had settled deep into my flesh. The doctor had told me that it would heal from the outside in, so this bruise would be here for a while. The longer I stared, the more I grew to accept it. I had been fucking stabbed and walked away with just this nasty mark. It was the best outcome I could have. I quickly used the toilet and brushed my teeth before exiting to the living room. I found Wade on my couch, tv already switched on, scrolling through my last streaming app. He finally made his decision and I heard the recap of the previous week's Bachelor episode. I had been half way through a rewatch when I was taken. 

“Why am I even surprised you are a fan?” 

“Where else do you think I got my charm and narcissistic tendencies?” 

I found Logan unloading the three overflowing grocery bags into neat groups. There were packages of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, cookies, and of course, a six pack of beer. 

“No, no, sit down.” He hadn’t even looked up. I ignored him, limping closer. My hands traveled under his jacket, wrapping around his waist, laying my head between his shoulder blades. The leather was soft against my cheek, well worn and well loved. He stilled, one hand encompassing my overlapped wrists. “I don’t need your help.” 

“Perfect,” I hummed, “I wasn’t offering it. Just stand there and let me hug you.” I wanted to crawl under his jacket, to be completely flush with him, to pin him close. A blissful moment passed. 

“Your leg is shaking.” 

“I know.” 

“Then go sit down.” I lightly head butted his back. 

“Stop being bossy.”

“Stop being stubborn.” He turned in my arms, pinning me in place with an exasperated expression. He traced my face with his rough fingers, lingering on the bruises still on my cheek. Then he sighed, resigned. 

“Fine, you can stay over here. But I can’t have you latched on to me like a tumor. Go lean somewhere.” I knew that’s the best I would get. I picked a small section of my counter that would keep me out of Logan’s way. He had clearly inspected my cabinet layout before shopping as he put everything where I would. Eventually he started on dinner: steak, rice, and a salad. Wade was completely enthralled by the Bachelor, shouting dating advice at the tv to try and save the bachelor from his many mistakes. I watched Logan chop vegetables with rapt attention. He had shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him just in a tight t-shirt. Everytime his hand flexed over the knife or as he grabbed a pan, the prominent veins popped under his skin. I felt like I could watch him for hours. 

He drifted nearer to my perch, grabbing a beer from my fridge. I stuck my foot out to catch his thigh and guide him closer. Once I was able, I hooked my fingers through his belt loops, wedging his body between my spread legs. He took a large gulp of his beer before it clinked against the counter, his hands braced on either side of my hips. I could smell the lingering smoke of his cigar, the barest hint of a cologne. “Need something princess?” I bit my lip as I smirked. 

“Can I ask for that kiss now?” His thumb tugged my lip free of my teeth. I sucked it into my mouth, tongue brushing against the tip. A tiny moan caught in his throat. Just the sound, knowing I made the stoic man weak, shot heat through my veins. 

I drop his thumb and grab the neckline of his shirt, drawing him closer so our lips could connect. For a moment my stomach drops as he stays still against me. He exhaled, breath coasting across my face. Then he’s kissing back. It’s slow, long languid strokes against each other. His hand caressed the side of my neck, thumb against my pulse point, his calloused palm a pleasant scrape. There’s no rush, no desperation like before in the bathroom with Wade. That tension, his resistance to me wanting him, has seemingly evaporated. I plucked his shirt from his jeans, hands exploring his torso, tracing the lines and ridges there. His head tipped to the side and mine mirrored it. His tongue stroked against my lip, begging entrance, which I freely gave. The wheaty tang of beer is heavy on him and it never tasted so good. I wanted to sink into this feeling, this pleasant hum of contentedness, but his mouth moved too soon from mine. It traveled across my cheek, along my jaw, before hoovering over my ear. 

“You can get the rest of your kisses later, okay sweetheart?” I whined in frustration. “Do you want to eat burnt food?” He pressed one last kiss to my cheek before extricating himself from me. I wanted to draw him back, say fuck it to the food. But I just sighed. 

“Fine.” He grinned. He flipped the steaks, checking under the pot lid at the status of the rice. Well, at least I get to watch those hands again. Of course, I rarely ever get what I want. The food was done too quickly and despite my stomach feeling like it was about to eat itself, I mourned watching him. I accepted my plate gratefully, pressing my lips to his in thanks. My steak was cut into thin strips, perfectly done, while his and Wade’s were still whole. I noticed a lack of a knives on their plates as we went to the living room. 

“Not Victoria!” Wade cried, flopping back on the couch in defeat. I nestled next to him, plate balanced precariously on my knee. Logan, realizing we all wouldn’t fit on my tiny couch, sat on the floor in front of me, his wide back against my shins. To my horror, and amusement, both of them picked their steaks up with their hands and ripped into them. I watched a trail of juice run down Wade’s chin. He turned and smiled. “He’s rubbed off on me,” he nudged Logan’s shoulder with his knee. “He gets a hunk of meat in front of him and he just has to rip into it. When he first saw my ass, he tore a chunk out.” 

“I did not.” Logan grumbled. “I just bit you, it’s not my problem your skin is thin.” Wade shook his head in exasperation. 

“He loves downplaying his accomplishments.” I hummed, mouth still full of food. Logan was a great cook, the steak practically melted in my mouth.

“If I’m between you two, could we keep the stabbing and biting to a minimum? I’d rather not have to buy new sheets all the time because you two keep ruining them.” 

“Aw,” Wade cooed, his breath ghosting across my cheek. “Come on baby, you already stabbed me once. Don’t you want to do it again?” I spun to face him. 

“No,” my voice was louder than intended from shock, “didn’t it hurt?” Wade shrugged. 

“Yeah, of course it did. But if your wet pussy is around my dick, the pain doesn’t matter. Probably just make me come harder.” My face was hot and I squirmed. He changed in the most attractive way when he spoke about sex. A look of brazen confidence came over him, his voice smug. 

It turned me on. 

The idea of injuring him was unappealing and sent a wave of fear over me. But if it was something he would want… “I don't even need a super sniffer to know you want to try it out. I promise I fuck so much harder when knives are involved.” 

“Wade,” Logan warned. 

“Doesn’t she smell good? Good enough to eat huh?” My thighs squeezed together and I swallowed. Wade was leaning in closer, like a spring about to snap. Logan’s hand shot up, gripping the other man’s chin, and yanked him to face the tv. 

“Leave her alone. Don’t make me put my claws through your head.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. You know your claws just make me even more sensitive.” Logan slapped Wade’s cheek, not hard enough to injure, just enough to make a crack. Wade groaned but settled back into the couch, giving Logan’s hair a little tug. We finished dinner in relative silence, Logan and I were quiet while Wade continued his narration, critiquing everything from the fashion to the date ideas. With Wade’s attention off me, the sudden flash of arousal faded, but not totally. 

Once our plates were clean, I grabbed them before Logan could even attempt to move. “Hey, let me do that,” he grumbled, trying to grab my shirt to stop me. I evade his hand with a giggle. I run the dirty dishes under the faucet, putting them, along with the pots and pans Logan used to cook, in the dishwasher. “You should go and sit back down. Let me take care of it.” 

“Jesus!” I yelped, the edge of the knife I had been handwashing catching the tip of my finger. “Need to put a bell on you,” I murmured, letting the warm water from the faucet run over the cut. It wasn’t deep but stung like a paper cut. Logan removed my finger, examining the injury. A thin line of blood oozed from it. “It’s okay, just needs a bandaid. Should have seen it after I got a mandolin.” He grunts, kissing the cut, before letting my hand fall. I flicked the water off. 

“Have you taken anything yet?” 

I shook my head. “It doesn’t hurt Logan, just aches.” He drifted closer, our bodies flush to each other, my hips bumping the counter. 

“I’d much rather you take it now,” he nearly purrs, gruff voice tender. “That way it won’t hurt later.” His hands caged me in. 

“I think you just like telling me what to do.” 

Logan shrugged, “one of you two needs to listen to me.” I hummed, considering, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“Fine, you win.” It looked like he was going to pull away but my arms tightened in warning. “For being so nice and following your orders, I want another kiss.” He huffed a laugh. 

“Are we using them are bargaining chips now?” 

“Yes, you’re the one who keeps saying I’ll get more later. So I’m asking for at least one now.” 

“Okay princess, you get whatever you want.” He gently removed my arms, grabbing me a glass of water, as well as the bottle of painkillers. “Here,” he plucked one of the little pills out, holding it for me. I open my mouth in response, tongue out. “You and Wade,” he grumbled, “always trying to tease me.” His fingers graze my tongue as he puts the pill on it. “Now drink,” the command in his voice made my skin prickle. I take the glass dutifully, swallowing the pill down, making a satisfied ah noise once I was done. “Here’s your reward.” The kiss was so brief I thought I had imagined it.

“Hey,” I growled, “don’t be mean.” Logan was smug as he brushed some loose hair from my face. “Fine,” I wiggled from between his arms, heading back to the living room. “I’ll go ask Wade for some.” 

“Oooh smoochie time!”

[garciaasfluffypen]

the suit stays on (we're feral for you)

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 2.5k warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT. MINORS DNI. (we’re operating under the assumption that y’all have fucked or at least seen each other in various states of undress prior to being in an established polycule), toy usage, fingering (reader recieving), female terms of endearment -- "our girl", mentions of mental abuse/belittling in previous relationships request from this ask a/n: i have no clue if this stayed on prompt or not but its here and its all i could think about while i was at work today

gods, you looked good in a suit. 

you adjusted the jacket that tara had helped you pick out for the upteenth time, smoothing invisible wrinkles off the dark maroon fabric as you made your way to the door of the bedroom. well, technically it had become your shared office, but you knew your favorite women barely looked into the closet in this room unless there was a gala they had to go to. it was the perfect hiding spot. you ran into their bedroom real fast, hearing emily humming to herself in the bathroom as you went over to the bag you had brought over to grab your black pumps. you rarely wore them, but you figured since rossi was paying for emily to treat you and jj to an anniversary celebration it was only fair that you pulled them out. 

while it wasn’t jj and emily’s anniversary (considering they had been together for years and married before you came along) it had been five months to the day that they had asked you to officially join them, to be more than just a friend and a confidant. to be their girlfriend. sure, it had scared you, but now it was second nature. you had fit into their relationship like a hand sliding into a glove. it was so easy for you to find your place with them. they made sure you felt comfortable from the beginning- separating work from pleasure, each taking you out on separate date nights at least once every other week and a trio date twice a week. making sure to remind you every day that you were loved and appreciated. to let you know it was okay to not mask your stims or feelings- they were always making sure you felt safe. none of your previous exes did that, always belittling you when you would stim in public or forget to take your medication. but with emily and jj? it was easy. 

loving them was easy.

your feet slid into the pumps with ease, welcoming the extra few inches they added to your height. with a smile, you went over to the front door to scan the checklist jj had put up for you, reading it over. keys, check. wallet, check. badge, not necessarily needed but you had it in your wallet just in case. meds, which were only a morning thing, not including your magnesium that you took at six pm each day. you didn’t need to take them unless you forgot them, but jj and emily had been good at making sure you had taken them whenever you were over. the adhd brain fog you got when you don’t take your meds was rough, you’d hate for it to show up in front of them. 

“baby are you--” jj stopped in her tracks as she looked you up and down, her jaw dropping slightly. 

“do i look okay? i don’t, i knew the suit was a bad idea, i’ll go--”

jj grabbed your hand, turning you to face her. “absolutely not. you look….” 

“beautiful.” emily joined you two by the front door, slipping an arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. “the word she’s looking for is beautiful.” 

emily had put on a pair of slacks and a fancy blouse, one that she had most likely gotten from her mother at some point. you didn’t know much about ambassador prentiss, but you knew she almost always sent emily stuff that she barely wore. most of those clothing items hung in the guest room closet. jj wore a baby blue sleeveless top with black jeans, her hair falling down behind her in those beach waves that you loved and adored. you had no idea what they had planned for tonight, but all you knew was that they looked hot and you were in fact, very in love with your girlfriends. even if you couldn’t find the words to say it to them yet. 

“where’d you get the suit?” 

“uh, tara took me shopping the other day. when she heard about the date.” you swallowed nervously. “i hope thats okay.” 

jj stepped closer. “you should buy more suits. i can’t even put into words how hot you look right now.” 

you blushed. “are you sure i’m not overdressed?” you moved to take the jacket off. 

“absolutely not.” emily gave you a stern look. “the suit stays on.” 

“you’re not overdressed at all, lovey.” jj squeezed your hand. “you look amazing.”

“are you sure?”

“i promise.” she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “we got reservations at fiola, that italian place you wanted to try. you’re perfectly dressed.” 

the glint in emily’s eyes pointed to other undertones, but you kept your mouth shut. better to not start anything in case you were reading the situation wrong. you let them lead you to the car, making sure you were buckled in before heading out. jj leaned forward to rest her hand at the crook of your elbow, keeping light conversation with you so you didn’t get lost in your thoughts. the two women knew that you didn’t do the best with plans you didn’t know everything about, so they made sure to keep you in the loop as much as they could. granted, they didn’t even know the restaurant they were going to until this morning, but they told you what they were doing as they were doing it. it was a nice change, especially since in the past you would have to deal with your exes just scooping you up and taking you places without asking for your input. 

you enjoyed the meal, despite feeling out of place. rossi had made sure to get you a secluded corner booth, far away from everyone so you could make the most of your night together. after dinner, emily and jj took you for a walk through the georgetown waterfront park while you awed at the sights. they knew you would love it, since you always found beauty in small things like this. it was rare that you let your guard down like this, but they knew you trusted them enough to do so. even if these nights were far and few between, seeing you be your true self was something they adored deeply. to end the night, the three of you got ice cream at a little local shop before heading back to the apartment. 

minutes within getting inside, you kicked your heels off and went to take your jacket off, only to be stopped by a set of hands. emily walked in front of you, silently telling you to let her take care of it. jj had momentarily disappeared, and you searched for her as emily took your jacket off with care. it was folded neatly on the back of the couch before she ran her hands lightly over your arms again, stopping to hold your hands. you searched her eyes, attempting to figure out what your women had planned for you.

“how are you feeling, y/n?” her voice was low and husky. “are you up for more? if you’re not, you can tell us.”

“can we do whatever it is with jj?” 

“of course, lovey. she should be in the bedroom, do you care to join us?”  

you silently nodded, letting emily guide you to the bedroom. as she opened the door, you saw your favorite candles lit on either side table, with jj leaning up against the wall as she waited. her eyes practically lit up as she saw you and emily walk in, stepping over to you. 

“if you’d rather just curl up in bed, say the word and we can do that, okay?” jj gave you a smile. 

“okay. but what are we…”

your voice trailed off as you started to notice that jj had changed into a satin robe, one that she only took out for special occasions. you remembered buying it with her years ago, when penelope had invited you to girls night as a way to introduce you to emily before she had gotten with jj. before you had been asked to join the BAU, even. your hand ghosted over the satin fabric, subconsciously finding the string and fidgeting with it. your head fell to jj’s shoulder, slowly shuffling closer to her. 

“we couldn’t help but wish we could have you all night,” jj started. “you’re just so hot and all we could think about was you. we're feral for you." jj paused, looking at you. "is this okay?”

you nod. “more than okay.” 

“you’re in control, tonight is about you. you want us to stop, you tell us.” 

a noise fell from your lips. “mm”

“i need words, y/n.” 

“yes.” 

within seconds, jj’s hands started exploring your body, waiting for you to initiate a kiss. you leaned in, your hands wrapping around jj’s midsection and pulling her close to you as possible. emily came up behind you, her hands moving around your waist and starting to kiss your neck. your head fell back, giving both women full access to you. slowly but surely you feel yourself being taken to the bed, emily sitting down behind you and letting you lean against her knees. jj slowly started to undress you, taking her time and practically worshiping your body. emily placed kisses down your back, her hands exploring your upper body. they were taking care of you, taking their time and letting you know how much you truly meant to them. your hands found their way to the tie on jj’s robe again, un-tying it and pushing the fabric off her shoulders. with a swift movement, jj moved you so you were on the bed, emily shuffling to give jj room to adjust everything before continuing. you grabbed at emily, pulling her close and giving her a kiss while starting to unbutton her blouse, being sure to be careful. even if she didn’t care about it, it felt expensive and not worth ruining. 

emily helped you push her blouse off her shoulders before laying down next to you, the red of her victoria’s secret bra a stark contrast from her porcelain skin. you found your way to her breasts, kneading one with one hand while you pestered kisses all over the other one. emily’s hand made it's way into your hair, the other gripping the side of your arm lightly. moans fell from emily as you switched breasts, repeating the same process. as you did so, your free hand went down to your center, which was hot with need as your girlfriends took care of you. she slowly pushed you back onto the bed, pushing the hair out of your face and trailing her hand down to your jaw, turning your face to look at her. emily shifted so she could turn your head and envelop you in a kiss. as you kissed, her hand went to replace the one hovering over your center, easily slipping two fingers in with a smirk on your face as you moaned out. your head fell into the crook of emily’s neck, biting and nipping at the skin in an attempt to leave a semblance of a mark. 

“emmy… emmy please.” 

emily’s free hand grabbed your hip, holding you in place as you tried to move your hips. she was teasing the hell out of you, knowing you all too well. you mewed out as emily’s fingers slowed, the high you were chasing fading away. a pout flew over your features as you clawed at emily’s shoulders, silently pleading with her to continue. you finally regained movement of your hips as emily’s hand loosened, letting you find that high again at your own pace. noises fell from your lips as fireworks exploded all around you, the skin of emily’s shoulder becoming victim to yet another set of bite marks as you worked through your high. 

a blush crept up on your cheeks as you remembered jj had been there the whole time, now noticing the baby blue strap now situated over her hips. jj placed a hand on emily’s back and stood next to her, looking over to you to ensure you wanted to continue. you nodded, pulling jj closer so you could grab the strap. jj lightly moved your head to the strap, holding her hand at the back of your head while emily positioned herself behind you, her hands going to knead your breasts as you sucked jj off. 

“do you need more, y/n?” you nodded. “words.”

“yes. more.” 

 “so beautiful,” she placed a kiss on your cheek, then your neck. “our girl.” 

“what does our girl need?” emily looked at you.

“more, please.” 

you clawed at jj who pushed you down on the bed, hovering over your entrance as you nodded again as a signal for her to continue. slowly she pushed the strap into you, her hands going to hold you in place as she bottomed out. a moan of pleasure left your lips as she sat there for a second, waiting for you to adjust before she started pumping in and out. your hand reached for emily and went straight to her center, finding her clit and starting to rub. 

“look at you, taking me so well. laying there and taking me like a good girl should.” jj pressed into your hips. “getting emmy off while i fuck you so good, huh?” 

your free hand gripped at the sheets. “oh, oh fu--”

“yeah? jayje is so good to you, huh?” you nodded. “tell me, use your words.”

“so good, jay, so-- fuck-!” 

emily came to a climax first, with you following closely behind. jj smirked as the two of you rode your climaxes out together, both of you moaning out in tandem. as your high faded away, leaving you breathless on the bed, jj’s hips starting to stutter as her own climax hit her. emily slowly pushed your hand away from her and watched you through hooded eyes as you whined at the sudden emptiness you felt below. jj fell on the bed next to you, pulling you as close to you as she could before emily joined the two of you. 

“was that okay, y/n?” 

you covered your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “how are you so good at that?” 

“at what?” jj smirked. 

“oh shut up,” you playfully nudged her shoulder. “you know what i’m talking about.” 

“what can i say, the best of me comes out when i’m with you. the both of you.” 

you couldn’t help but blush. “really?”

“really. we wouldn’t have asked you to be ours if we didn’t both adore the hell out of you.” 

emily wrapped her arm around your midsection. “you mean the world to us, y/n. truly. we’d do anything for you.” 

it felt as if your heart grew three sizes in that moment. you snuggled further into emily and pulled jj close, inhaling the subtle scent of sea salt from her shampoo. you closed your eyes and let the two women draw patterns over your skin, relishing in the moment before ultimately one of them got up to get a washcloth. your eyes started to slowly shut, the warmth of your girlfriends bodies engulfing you in a hug. 

you could get used to this. 

and maybe… maybe you were almost ready to say those three words.  almost.

[rosemariiaa]

~Lines We Drew~

part: 2

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: I was gonna post this tomorrow but today was a good day!

warning: language

Enjoy!!!

Azzi’s POV:

My first few days at UConn have been a whirlwind. Classes are intense but manageable, and my teammates have been great—well, most of them. Paige is a whole different story. She’s made it clear she doesn’t like me, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because of our past or something else I just don’t know of. Whatever it is, she’s not making things any easier.

Practice has been tough, and Paige seems to find every opportunity to make it hell. Most of the time the rest of the team just looks at her like she’s crazy because, honestly, I don’t know what I’ve done to her that bad to be treated like this, but I hope she knows she’s not just going to push me around like a dog.

This morning, we were running drills, and Coach decided to pit me against Paige. Of course, she couldn’t resist making some remark about my shooting form, which is actually perfect by the way. “Nice shot, Fudd, maybe next time try aiming for the basket.” Paige snickered.

I rolled my eyes and shot back, “At least I can make a shot without spraining my ankle.” Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the surprise flicker across her face before she masked it with a scowl. We kept bickering throughout the drill, and eventually, Coach had enough.

“Bueckers! Fudd! Locker room, now!” Geno shouted.

We both hesitated, but the glare he sent us had us moving. The walk to the locker room was tense, and the silence that followed once we got there was even worse. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, and it was only a matter of time before one of us snapped.

“What the hell is your problem?” I finally demanded, turning to face her. “My problem? You’re the one acting like you own the place,” Paige shot back, her tone icy.

“Maybe because I’ve actually earned my spot here.” I said throwing my hands in the air. “Yeah, because everyone just loves the shiny new recruit,” Paige sneered, crossing her arms. “But they don’t know you like I do.”

“Oh really , and what exactly do you think you know about me, Bueckers?”

“I know you’re all talk. You act nice, but deep down, you’re just as cutthroat as the rest of us. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The accusation stung more than I expected. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but before I could, the door creaked open, and Laila, a girl i met my first day at Uconn slipped in, casting a worried glance between us. “Hey, Az, you okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Paige’s jaw tightened as Laila approached me. Why did she care? It’s not like we were friends or anything.

Paige’s glare was sharp, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was angry at me or at Laila. But that didn’t make sense, I pushed the thought aside, focusing on Laila as she pulled me aside to talk quietly. Even though we were trying to be discreet, I could still feel Paige’s gaze burning into us.

“I’m fine, just… annoyed,” I muttered to Laila, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. Laila gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you. You belong here just as much as she does babe, you know that.”

“Thanks Lai,” I replied, though my mind was still partially focused on the fact that Paige had been glaring at us the entire time. What was her deal?

When Laila finally left, Paige and I were alone again, but the fire in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something unreadable. The silence stretched on until it became unbearable, and finally, she stood up, brushing past me without a word.

I watched her leave, trying to figure out what just happened. Why did she look so pissed when Laila showed up? Did she think I was going to talk about her? Or maybe… No. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Paige Bueckers couldn’t possibly care about me.

———-

Paige’s POV:

I never expected Azzi Fudd to get under my skin like this. I knew she was coming to UConn, but I wasn’t excited about it. Everyone was hyped up about her for god knows whatever , acting like she was going to be the savior of the team. I couldn’t stand it. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, and now, here comes Miss Perfect, just strolling in like she owns the place.

But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that everyone seems to love her. Even my own friends, who should be on my side, are falling all over themselves to help her move in, introduce her to everyone, and make her feel at home. What about me? I thought bitterly. Where’s all this support when I need it?

The accusation hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I thought she might actually cry. But then the door creaked open, and Laila walked in, instantly killing whatever momentum our fight had.

“Hey, Azzi, you okay?” Laila asked softly. Azzi nodded, but my whole body tensed up as Laila walked over to her. I didn’t know why, but something about seeing Laila with Azzi made my blood boil. Laila had a long kind of slim body, a little similar to mine, but of course I had the muscles. She had this long blonde hair dripping down her back..also similar to me. I felt this unfamiliar twist in my chest, like jealousy, but that couldn’t be it. Could it? No.

I watched as Laila reached out and touched Azzi’s arm, and I had to fight the urge to get up and push her away. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t my business. I didn’t care who Azzi talked to, or at least I shouldn’t care. But as I watched them whisper to each other, something ugly and possessive churned in my gut.

I turned away, trying to focus on anything else. The lockers. The floor. My shoes. Anything but the sight of Laila comforting Azzi. I didn’t care, I reminded myself. I didn’t care at all. But when I looked back, and saw Azzi smile at something Laila said, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. My fists clenched involuntarily. I hated this feeling. I hated that she could get under my skin like this.

When Laila finally left, the tension in the room was suffocating. I wanted to say something, to demand to know why Azzi even needed Laila to comfort her, but what right did I have? We weren’t friends. Hell, I didn’t even like her. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to scream at her, to demand answers to questions I didn’t even understand.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and stormed out of the locker room without another word, leaving Azzi behind. I needed to clear my head, to figure out why seeing her with Laila had set me off like that. This didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t possibly be jealous. Not of Azzi. Not over something as stupid as Laila talking to her. Right?

But as I walked away, the twisted feeling in my chest didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse. And I had no idea what to do about it.

———-

Back in my apartment, I tried to focus on my assignments, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the locker room. No matter how hard I tried to push the memories away, Azzi kept creeping back into my mind. Why the hell did I care so much? I asked myself this knowing why i did care. But It wasn’t like we were friends. We weren’t even close like that anymore. But everything about her now kept nagging at me.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Studying was pointless. All I could think about was the way she looked at me, the way her voice had risen when she confronted me. And that damn moment with Laila. Why did it bother me so much to see them together?

My phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of my thoughts. Nika had texted the group chat, suggesting we all head over to Aubrey’s apartment for a study session and hangout. I almost ignored it, but I figured it was better than sitting here, stewing in my own confusion.

When I arrived at Aubrey’s, the place was already full with energy, KK and Ice bickering, paying no attention to the work we’re actually supposed to be doing. Everyone else was scattered around the living room with their laptops and notebooks. I found a spot on the couch and tried to settle in, hoping the chatter would drown out my thoughts.

A few minutes later, the door to one of the bedrooms creaked open, and Azzi emerged, looking half-asleep with her curls falling down her shoulders and her eyes half-closed. She was wearing black Nike shorts and a tank top, and as she stretched, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach and that damn silver belly button ring, I couldn’t help but stare. She looked effortlessly beautiful, even with her sleepy face and bed hair. My eyes traced the length of her long, tanned legs, and I had to remind myself to blink.

Everyone greeted her with a chorus of “Hi’s,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was too busy trying to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat when she rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Azzi must have noticed me staring because she glanced in my direction, her lips curling into a smirk. “Like what you see, Bueckers?” she teased, snapping me out of my thoughts. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in my notes. “Whatever,” I muttered, but my mind was racing. What the hell was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, and I definitely shouldn’t be blushing because of some stupid comment.

Azzi disappeared back into her room to change, and I tried to refocus on my work, but when she came back out, looking more awake and dressed in sweats, I found myself sneaking glances at her again. This was getting ridiculous.

As the study session dragged on, I realized I was completely lost on one of my assignments. Everyone else seemed equally confused doing their own thing, except for Azzi, who was calmly working through her own tasks. I knew I had no choice—I had to ask her for help. But the thought made my stomach twist.

After a few minutes of struggling, I finally caved. “Hey, Azzi,” I called over, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Can you help me with this?” She looked up, surprised, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

I expected her to just explain it from across the room, but instead, she got up and came to sit next to me. My heart pounded as she settled in beside me, her shoulder brushing against mine. I tried to focus on the work, but her presence was overwhelming. We hadn’t been this close in years. She leaned in a little too close, her hair brushing against my arm, and all I could think about was the scent of vanilla and strawberries that clung to her skin. Get a grip P.

“See, this part here…” Azzi began explaining, her voice calm and patient, but I could barely process her words. All I could focus on was how close she was, the warmth radiating off her body, the way her pink and plump lips moved as she spoke. I almost smiled at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, supposedly hating this girl, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how good she smelled or how soft her skin looked. It was infuriating, and I hated myself for it.

I forced myself to concentrate, nodding along as Azzi explained the problem to me. I was determined not to let her see how flustered I was. But the more I tried to focus, the more distracted I became. Her closeness was driving me crazy, and I had no idea why.

Eventually, the study session wrapped up, and everyone started packing up their things to head back to their apartments. I was relieved when Azzi moved away from me to help clean up. I needed space to breathe, to get my head on straight.

As I stood up to leave, I caught a glimpse of Caroline teasing Azzi about how close we’d been sitting earlier. I figured what’s the harm in eavesdropping just a little. Azzi laughed it off, but her response made my heart clench.

“She still hates me, Caroline,” Azzi said with a shrug. “I have no idea why, but it’s whatever.”

No idea?

Caroline chuckled. “You sure about that? I saw the way she was looking at you.”

I quickly turned away, pretending I hadn’t heard anything, but my mind was racing. Azzi thought I hated her..well I guess that’s what it would seem like. I thought rubbing my temples. I wasn’t even sure anymore. All I knew was that something about her being here, being so close to me…was driving me absolutely insane and I needed it to stop.