#things on jades bedroom wall

[aliengirl]

Jade had a tier 1 tiny home, later a tier 2 and then a tier 3. Now we are officially upgrading to a full house and instead of just expanding the original one or picking one already made, im decided to build one myself and IM IN LOVE

[rioromanoffroses]

Ovulation

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, masturbating, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), finger sucking, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), overstimulation

Summary: You're ovulating while on a mission, causing you to be uncomfortably aroused. Luckily, the agent with you is more than eager to help you out...

WC: 4.1k

The motel was just like any other – grey, dusty and lit only by dim off-white. You would only be here for a night and when you pressed your hand against the cold metal of the radiator, you were glad. You debated whether or not you ask the receptionist about it but keeping your head low was key when travelling on an undercover mission. The more questions you asked and the more times your face was seen and captured by CCTV, the greater the risks. You decided against it.

You inspected the bedroom, following safety procedures which included searching for signs of any electronic devices but luckily, there were none. The bed was a small double with beige, striped sheets that were thinner than you would’ve liked. The back wall was taken up entirely by a sturdy, wooden cupboard that matched the tawny-brown, bedside tables covered in dust. You switched on the lamp and ran your hand over the mattress, noting that you would need to wear thick layers of clothing to bed. You assumed the other bedroom was the same but didn’t bother checking. The other agent could do that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. One of the things you hated most about being a woman and a spy was the problems it caused when it conflicted with your cycle. Missions on your period were uncomfortable, draining and painful. Ovulation week was also a mess; you had no way of dealing with the surge of hormones it triggered while on a mission. You made a mental note to take a cold shower after the other agent arrived. 

You read over the intel for the upcoming mission while you waited for them, straining your ears for the door. It was a complicated mission; you had to infiltrate the base of a growing terrorist organisation and hack into their systems to gather as much information about them as you could. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew scarily little about the organisation so you were going in almost blind – anything could happen. 

The plan was for two agents, including you, to blend in as one of the terrorists to get into the base. You were unaware of the identity of the agent you were paired with. You were curious to know if they were someone you’d worked with before or a complete stranger. You assumed the latter – you were still young and hadn’t been assigned to many difficult missions yet. You tightened your arms around yourself, shivering as the light outside the window was sucked from the sky, the moon blocked out by an array of dark, restless clouds. 

“You look cold.” You jumped and leapt on your feet, spinning around to see a woman standing behind you. Her face was painted with a smirk and she looked at you with her hands on her hips, her jade eyes travelling up and down your body. You swallowed. How did you not hear her come in? S.H.I.E.L.D. weren’t exaggerating when they said she was the very best they had at espionage. You didn’t realise you were staring at her until she brought you out of your thoughts, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat, “Yeah, I am. East Europe is always freezing at this time of year.” You could feel sweat trickling down your neck. Not only were you ovulating on a mission but you were stuck with an extremely attractive woman during it. You were so fucked. 

“Mm, it is,” she said, stepping towards you and offering out her hand. You noticed the electrified branches of azure and emerald running down her arms up to her fingers, pushing up against the skin, your heart thundering against your ribcage. You quickly pulled yourself out of your trance. You were a spy for goodness sake, not the nervous wreck or helpless whore your elevated levels of estrogen were making you feel like. You shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I’m Agent Y/l/n.” You pulled your hand away from hers before she could pick up on your clammy palms but unbeknownst to you, she’d already felt them. 

“I know,” she said, “I’m Agent Romanoff but to you, it’s Natasha.” You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. Natasha. You could already imagine how those three, pretty syllables would feel falling off your tongue. 

You dismissed your dirty thoughts immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. She was a stranger and your teammate; you seriously needed to pull yourself together. She nodded to the file in your hand, “I see you’re already prepared for the mission.”

“I was just double-checking all the details,” you said. The tight, black shirt and jeans she was wearing hugged her in all the right places, her sculpted arms in full view to you. She must take her training seriously, you thought, I wonder how often she goes to the gym.

“Good,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor, “I already know I’ll enjoy working with you.” You placed your hands behind your back so she couldn’t see your fidgeting fingers. Your gaze fell onto the bag and you frowned.

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping in here?” You said, “I’ll move to the other room then.” She held her arm in front of you as you stepped towards the door. 

“There isn’t another room.” You felt your heart drop. You realised the other door must be to the bathroom. You couldn’t imagine how your situation could get any worse, “Are you unhappy with that arrangement?”

“No, not at all,” you lied, “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” You swallowed, hard. You started moving towards the door, “I’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled, not waiting for her answer. You fumbled with the handle, cursing under your breath and slammed the door shut behind you. 

You didn’t waste any time taking off your clothes and turning on the shower, sighing as the cold droplets collided with your burning skin. The water only offered you a few moments of relief, however. The more you thought about the redhead and how close you’d be together that night, the more you fed the raging arousal between your legs. It became clear that there was only one way you were going to calm yourself down.

You covered your hand with your mouth as you touched yourself, your mind overwhelmed by images of Natasha. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax and you were certain that the sound of the shower and your hand had muffled out all your moans. You cleaned yourself before stepping out, drying yourself with a towel and getting dressed, praying that your body would be satisfied for the night. When you returned to the bedroom, Natasha was on the bed facing you, resting a pillow on her lap.

“You’re even prettier in real life than you are in your pictures,” she said, the unexpected compliment drowning you in butterflies. You noticed that her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her breaths seemed more laboured than before. 

“Really?” you said in disbelief. You had never seen yourself as unattractive but you didn’t think you were anything special either. You were nothing compared to the Goddess in front of you, that was for sure. She chuckled.

“You’re a humble one,” she mused, “How cute.” You couldn’t quite believe her words. Natasha thought you, of all people, were humble? You searched the room, looking for any kind of escape from the conversation and spotted a clock hung above the bed.

“It’s getting late,” you said, trying to hide your stutter, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” You knew it would be uncomfortable but anything was better than being next to Natasha. You’d slept in awkward places before so you’d just have to deal with it.

“No you won’t,” she said, shuffling to the other side of the bed and lifting the sheets, “There’s room for both of us, see?” The amount of room wasn’t the problem – it was the proxemics between you and the internal chaos your body was experiencing. How were you supposed to explain that to Natasha though? You noticed the moment your eyes fell on her that her autonomy wasn’t the same as yours so she wouldn’t understand your dilemma.

“Uh, okay,” you said, knowing you had no choice. You never sounded nervous or vulnerable, not even with your close family and friends. If embarrassment was a type of poison, you’d have collapsed in agony by now. You climbed into bed beside Natasha, turning your back to her. You were reminded of how small the bed was when you shifted slightly and felt her hand brush against the small of your back. You took a deep breath. You were in for a long night. 

She switched off the bedside lamp and to your horror, you could hear her unbutton her jeans and discard them on the floor. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. You tensed your muscles, forcing yourself to stay as still as humanely possible so there was less chance of you accidentally making contact with each other again.

“That’s better,” she mumbled and you felt her leg against yours as she adjusted her position to make herself more comfortable. You didn’t know how long it took for you to fall asleep with her body so close to yours, her breath creating goosebumps along every part of your skin that it hit. Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that your head was the worst place to escape to you in your current state. 

You woke up, gasping and blinded by the darkness around you. You pushed yourself up, feeling the slick on your thighs from the filthy dream you had just experienced. Natasha’s head had been buried between your thighs and you had been an absolute mess beneath her. You could honestly die from humiliation – how could your mind conjure up something so vile while you were sleeping next to her? As you were about to move off the bed and sprint into the bathroom, a light was switched on and you felt a hand tighten around your wrist. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha said, a dark rasp accompanying her words, “You are not going into the bathroom to fuck yourself again.” Your eyes widened and you felt a tide of heat rush to your cheeks. She’d heard you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have, it was really inappropriate of me…” She silenced you by straddling your hips, trapping you beneath her on the bed. Before you could react, you were distracted by the feeling of something hard against your stomach. You looked down to see Natasha in only her boxers, the bulge pressing against your abdomen straining in its confines. Your jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to you that there was a chance she’d want you too.

“I was going to let you make the first move,” she said, “But you took too long.” From how the other agents described you, she had been so sure your boldness and confidence would’ve caused you to spring onto her immediately. She was annoyed that she’d had to listen to you pleasure yourself in the shower without her but at the same time, Natasha loved that her presence had changed your demeanour so much. 

You gulped and looked up into her eyes, seeing that her iris had shrunk into a thin line around her blown pupils. You drunk in the sight of her on top of you, placing your hands on top of her bare, supple thighs, her skin like velvet beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. She tilted up your chin, running her thumb over your bottom lip, wanting a better view of you.

“Tsk tsk. Such a dirty mouth.” You knew you shouldn’t be letting her walk all over you but you were enjoying it more than you wanted to admit. She lifted herself off your body so she could move her other hand to the waistband of your trousers. She hooked a finger underneath the material, “Can I?” You nodded and she dug her nails into your chin, “I want to hear you say it.” You weren’t used to this power dynamic – you were always the more dominant one. 

“Yes,” you said, “You can. Please.” She grinned at your obedience and slipped her hand into your pants, feeling you drip onto her fingertips. She groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so wet already,” she said, “I could stuff you with my cock right now if I wanted to.” She removed her hand from your underwear and brought it to your mouth, pushing her fingers past your lips. You sucked her digits hungrily, tasting yourself on your tongue. The sight only drove Natasha even crazier but she also felt a pang of envy, wishing it was her cock in your mouth instead. You felt so good around her fingers.

After pulling her digits out of your mouth, she lowered herself onto your body and she didn’t hesitate to connect her lips with yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Her lips moulded against yours perfectly and you moved in sync with her, your kisses becoming more and more desperate. She could taste your sweetness as she kissed you and she forced herself to forget about breathing, not wanting to pull away for even a second. Her hands cupped your face and you reached up to tangle yours in her hair, her lips staining yours with garnet lust. 

You pulled her even closer against your chest, your mind a buzz of her and her only. You let her tongue slide between your teeth when you felt it press against your bottom lip, making no effort to fight against it with your own. She swallowed your whines, her crotch grinding against your thigh. You had never hooked up with anyone before; you weren’t that kind of person. But you were willing to break all your rules for Natasha and give every part of you to her without hesitation. 

Her mouth moved to your jawline, littering your face with kisses, her hands trailing down your arms. You shivered under her feather-light touch, gasping as her teeth sunk into your neck, intending to leave a bruise that everyone else would see. She tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off,” she said. She leaned back to give you space to pull it over your head and unhook your bra before she pounced on you like an animal. She traced her fingers over your collarbones before venturing further down to your chest, her fingers circling your nipples. You arched into her touch as she caressed your breasts, her movements sending a spark straight to your core. You reached down to cup her bulge, noticing the wet patch on her boxers but she slapped your hand away, “No touching,” she snapped. 

“Please, Natasha,” you said, “I need you; it hurts.” She tutted.

“Patience,” she husked. She pulled away from you and started taking off her clothes, freeing her aching breasts before pushing down her boxers. Her erection sprang out from the material, the tip inflamed and ringed by an enraged red, pre-cum dribbling onto the sheets beneath her. 

She led back onto the pillow, giving you a full view of her body and you took a moment to admire her. Everything about her was a masterpiece – her facial features, her muscles, her curves. Her crimson hair was a mess around her shoulders and the front pieces had fallen forward, framing her face, “I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” You shook your head.

“No, Natasha,” you pleaded, “It’ll feel so much better in my pussy, I promise…” You fell silent as her eyes burnt into you. You reluctantly crawled over to her on all fours, hesitating before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You tried to irk her, moving as slow as possible but she grabbed a hold of your head and started pushing you down on her cock. 

“Suck.” You gagged around her length as she started bucking her hips upwards so she was fucking your mouth but the sound only drove her more. It didn’t take long for you to start moving your head up and down her cock without any guidance, guttural moans escaping Natasha’s mouth from the warmth and skill of your tongue, “Fuck, that shut you up.”

Tears spilt down your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat over and over again, the vibrations of your whines sending even more waves of pleasure through her body. She lifted her legs onto your shoulders so you could grab onto her thighs, spurring you on even more, “I’m so close,” she breathed. Her thrusts were messy and out of rhythm by the time she came undone, spilling her cum into your mouth. You made sure to swallow it all. 

She pulled her cock out of your mouth, a mixture of cum and drool coating her length, some of it dribbling down your chin, “You did so well. Such a good slut for me.” She took a moment to catch her breath, watching with eagerness as you pulled down your trousers and your panties that were positively ruined, throwing them on the floor. There were tears of white running down your legs and your clit was visibly swollen. She smirked wickedly, “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Please, I’ve been a good girl,” you whined. You tried to reach for her again but she caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Lie down.” You went to lay on your back but she grabbed your shoulders, her nails indenting crescent-moons into your skin before pushing you down onto your stomach. You gasped as her hand pressed against your cunt, her fingers running through your sensitive folds. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intending to increase your need but not give in to it.

“More,” you begged as her thumb massaged your clit. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and your senses were intoxicated by the vanilla and brown sugar fragrance of her perfume. She gave your clit a sharp pinch in response to your pleas, causing you to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, “You’re begging to be fucked by a woman you just met. Like a whore.” You started rubbing your crotch against her hand, your motions erratic and frantic. 

“More, please,” you cried, your thoughts becoming incoherent as the need between your legs started to burn, “Please, Natasha.” She pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching out your entrance but making sure to avoid your g-spot. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you inside of me,” you groaned as she added a third digit to your cunt. Natasha started to play with her breasts using her free hand; she was burning for you just as badly as you were for and the sound of your begging only worsened her desire. It took all the strength in her body to hold herself back and not ruin you right there and then. She was so glad you couldn’t see her.

“I am inside of you.” You whined.

“I want your cock. I need it inside of me, please.” She grabbed hold of your hips, smirking. As much as she enjoyed seeing you so needy for her, her patience was wearing thin.

“Then you’ll take it all.” She suddenly rammed inside you without any warning, not being able to resist you for any longer and you cried out in shock. Your initial discomfort was drowned by explosive bliss as Natasha filled you to the brim, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. She was met with no resistance as she rutted into you despite her size which stretched you out deliciously. Your pussy was so much better than she could’ve ever imagined.

She flattened herself against your back, needing to feel more of you. She grunted against your ear as her hips slammed into your ass with each powerful stroke. You were dizzy with pleasure as her speed increased, your moans intensifying as she started to pound into your sweet spot. She was older and more experienced than anyone you had been with before which was evident in how she was making you feel. Your body was coursing with more pleasure than you thought was humanely possible. 

The knot in your stomach was tightening fast and the sounds of your wet cunt were echoing through the room, “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Natasha said, not caring about her dignity anymore, too lost in the sensation of your warmth clenching around her cock, “Tell me how you feel baby.” 

“I feel so, so good,” you said, “Please, don’t stop.” You looked back at her and she tilted her head so your lips could connect for a moment before her mouth moved to your shoulder. She sucked on the soft skin there, slowing down so she could sink deeper into your cunt. She could feel your legs trembling beneath her own as you pushed back in rhythm with each of her thrusts.

“How close are you?” Natasha didn’t want to admit it but she was already teetering on the edge, struggling to hold back from how well you were taking her. You could feel her movements become sloppy as more and more of your juices gushed from your entrance. 

“So close,” you said, your walls clenching even harder around her cock. It only took a few more thrusts before you could feel gasoline flood your bloodstream, ready to be set on fire, “Natasha, f-fuck…” You didn’t even have to say it.

“Let go for me,” she commanded. You let the knot in your stomach unravel, screaming her name as all the nerves in your body were electrified, sparks of searing light shooting across your vision. No drug could replicate the state of euphoria you were both lost in as your walls were drowned by white, your cunt milking her cock dry until there wasn’t a single drop left to give. You had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so prolonged, so incredible. You expected Natasha to stop after fucking you through your high but instead, she picked up her pace again. You whimpered.

“Natasha, that’s enough…” She pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back before slipping straight back inside of you. Your eyes widened. 

“What’s wrong?” she mocked, “You begged for my cock, slut. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She smirked when you didn’t give her an answer, already drowning in ecstasy again despite the building ache between your legs. You were losing your grip on reality as the new angle gave her access to more places inside of you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were overstimulated. 

She didn’t take her eyes off you, wanting to see your reaction to everything she gave you. You were growing more sensitive by the second and you could feel her cock throbbing against your walls each time you squeezed her, drops of perspiration gleaming on every inch of your skin. You reached up to cup Natasha’s breasts, the extra layer of stimulation pushing her towards yet another climax in record time. 

She started to rub your clit, hoping to speed up your release but it was becoming evident she’d have to release without you. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer and for a moment, she forgot your pleasure, getting too lost in her own. She tore her eyes away from you and threw her head back, panting like a dog. 

“Cum inside me,” you said and at the sound of your words, she didn’t hesitate, letting her orgasm crash into her body with full force. She moaned your name between gasps as she was hit by waves of bliss that slowly decreased in intensity as the milliseconds passed, pulsing through her entire body. She finally pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You both gasped for breath, your thighs and the sheets beneath you stained with lust. You were glad you hadn’t climaxed this time – you didn’t think you’d have survived it. 

“That was fucking incredible,” Natasha admitted, turning her head to face you. You nodded in agreement, too fucked out to form a sentence, your limbs still shaking from adrenaline.

That morning, Natasha woke you up with her cock between your legs, already hard and ready for another round. Her hands only left your body during the mission and three days later after its success, she didn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless until you passed out.

A/n - I have an idea for part two so let me know if that's something you'd like.

[miniimight]

DISAPPEARING ACT . rindou often disappears for weeks at a time, showing up at home as if it's nothing. a brief exchange triggers a factory reset in him, but you're not as open to it as he expected you to be...

prompt used "better than me disappearing for good. / is it?"

with married!rindou + fem!reader

warnings cursing. a lot of cursing. angst? rindou is an idiot and possessive.

part two

you never got to see your husband anymore. so much so that you considered the chance of it happening next to nothing. you knew what you were getting into being in an relationships with him; lots of meetings and flights to other cities all meant extended time away from home.

you would've been a little more forgiving had he chosen to tell you these things. but no. morning after morning, you wake up to him gone without a trace, without consideration for how you feel. was he alive? was he with someone else? did he not care enough to call or even send a text?

it was as if you lived alone, and a stranger crashed at your place every once in a while. and while you shared polite exchanges, no amount of small talk could overshadow how bleak your marriage was.

it was eleven days before he showed up again. you were, surprisingly, awake when he returned. he was perfectly groomed, albeit a little jaded, but still regarded you with the same coldness you endured since he started leaving. you missed the warmth of your younger days, where he would hold you close and reassure you that you were meant for each other for life.

you decided today was as good a day as any. heck, he even might be gone tomorrow and it would be like you didn't say anything.

"i'm tired of you disappearing for days and then coming back like it was nothing." you said plainly.

he slipped out of his shoes, looking down at you. rolling his eyes lightly but sighing heavily, he started to pull off his tie. "better than me disappearing for good."

a wry smile spread on your face. oh, if he only knew. "is it?"

those two words sent an arrow straight through his heart.

rindou was silent, pretending as if he didn't hear what you just said. but when you scoffed and walked away, he knew it was too real for him to overlook.

"you don't mean that." it was less of a question and more of a please, don't mean it.

you shrugged and went back to your phone, too benumbed to even look at him.

he stared at you, utterly confused as to how to tackle this. "y/n." he said firmly.

you slowly raised your head to meet his eyes, void of any care. "what?"

"i said, you don't mean that." he stood like a tree in the middle of the living area, palms growing sweaty. he loved you. he couldn't lose you, not when you both went through so much to get here.

"don't i?" you responded, placing your phone beside you. not like i see you anymore, anyway. what's the difference?

"stop fucking talking like that and answer me." he snarled. you rolled your eyes, rising to your feet.

"look, rin. who the fuck cares what i think or say? certainly not you." you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "just—just forget i said anything." you turned towards your bedroom. "goodnight."

wait. he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and spinning you around to face him, backing you against a wall. caging you with arms on either side of you, he stared into your soul, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of you.

you just stared back.

his heart clenched. yeah, he was away for weeks at a time. of course he didn't tell you. why would he? why would he burden you with that information?

"you really think me going away forever is better?" his voice was a whisper, but held the sharpness of a knife. "huh? you want me gone forever?"

you sighed. "i didn't say i wanted that. i just meant that, either way, it doesn't matter. going away forever, going away for weeks and weeks but only staying for a night..." your eyes met his, glossy but fierce. "it's the same to me. i don't care what the hell you do anymore, rindou. just let me go to bed."

he studied the person he truly loved for so long, wondering when it all went downhill.

you were impatient, ducking under his arms. "shit..." you cursed, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked away.

he watched you go. and he never saw you come back.

the next morning he woke up, expecting to see you in the kitchen or watching tv, but his house was empty.

"y/n?" he called out. no answer. he pulled up his phone. no texts, no calls. he bustled around the house, looking for some indication of where you went and he found nothing.

he called his brother, thinking that he was the next best person you would've gone to, but ran had no contact from you.

rindou sat on the couch, nothing to do but sit and wait. he looked around. everything was well-kept, pristine, and sanitized. it was like no one lived here at all. no one except a lonely spouse in an eternal cycle of wait for a husband that wouldn't even give them the time of day to say, i'm heading out.

i love you.

goodbye.

he leaned back, closing his eyes. he doesn't even say goodbye.

he hated himself for it.

hours passed and he didn't move from the couch. he knew you sat there for much longer, day after day, waiting for him. no wonder you were uncaring. coming home meant nothing if he would simply leave again.

then he heard the click of the door. he practically jumped off the couch, racing over to the entrance. he saw you with a couple groceries hooked on your forearms, struggling to keep the door open long enough for you to slip inside.

he rushed over. yanking the door open with such force, it slammed into the wall causing you to jump. rindou winced a little, steadying the door from swinging wildly.

you eyes met his and your face immediately scrunched with confusion. "what are you doing here?"

"well... it's my house..?" he said dumbly.

you pressed your lips into a line. "hm."

you expected me to be gone again, he thought bitterly. he cleared his throat. "let me help you with these," he alleviated the weight off your arms, bunching up a couple bags and carrying them all in one go. "you know, you could just order them for delivery."

you sidestepped him and walked to the kitchen. "why would i do that?"

"so you can have them brought to you from the comfort of your home." he responded lightly. following robotically, he was unsure where everything was supposed to be put away.

you laughed, catching him off-guard. on closer inspection, though, he knew that wasn't a genuine laugh. "rindou, do you think i want to stay in this place any more than i have to?"

you said it so casually, grabbing a bag from him and stocking the cabinets and fridges.

his stomach swirled with much more unease than he'd ever experienced on the job. it was the way you simply didn't care anymore, talking about the rift between you and him as if you were reciting the weather report.

fight me, he wanted to say. kick, yell at me, scream at me, do anything at all to show me you're upset. he knows he fucked up. you definitely know he fucked up. so why weren't you telling him that? why weren't you cursing him out for being a bad husband? your nonchalance came from a long time being cast aside, so much so that you expected it to happen; so much so that you gave up on him.

indifference was the final nail in the coffin of your marriage, and you were about to bang it shut.

he observed you, thinking about how many times you'd busy yourself with mundane errands to feel like you were living. how many times you'd come back to this flat, putting away shit you'd probably never touch. how many times you'd listen to the silence ringing off the walls.

he set the bags down and held your shoulders, turning you to face him. "i've taken the next few days off."

you smiled insincerely. "great."

rindou felt like a kid again, when he had work up enough courage to ask you out. "we... we could spend them together."

your eyes squinted. "why?"

he spluttered. "what do you mean, why?"

you swatted his hands off your shoulders. "god, i shouldn't have said anything," you mumbled. "rindou, this is just you feeling guilty because of what i said last night, okay?"

he frowned. "it's not."

your eyebrows raised as you rummaged through another grocery bag. "it is. don't pretend like you're gonna change. what did you think we were going to do—go out together? like old times, when we were happy and in love?"

his face burned. anyone else—if it were anyone else speaking so flippantly with him, he'd have them beat til they're unconscious. and past tense? when we were in love? his brain was doing backflips trying to find a way to salvage the situation. "yes."

you laughed that fake laugh again. it grated on his ears. "that's funny. i was just feeling a little vulnerable last night, is all. had a couple of drinks and maybe was feeling sentimental about the days when everything was simple."

rindou stepped closer to you, ripping the bag away from your hands and towering over you. "it is simple. we can—"

"we can't do anything." you curled your hands into fists, your voice trembling. "can you just..?" go away?

rindou's breath caught in his chest, fully anticipating another heartless laugh.

he hated it when you cried. he hated it when you were angry. he would do anything for your eternal happiness, he realized, and he'd been falling short of his promises for far too long.

rindou leaned onto the counter, bending at the waist. his hand rested on your waist and his eyes were laser focused on your expression, a confusing mix of frustration, sadness, and the will to remain emotionless.

"baby," he whispered.

"don't fucking call me baby." you hissed.

he pursed his lips, unwilling to compromise. "pretty baby. i don't wanna go on like this." his fingers brushed your cheek. "i don't want to you to be sad anymore."

"well, isn't that righteous." you rolled your eyes though your heart ached. it ached for him, for the boyfriend he was and the husband he promised to be.

he glared at you. "would you just listen?"

"no, rindou." you shoved him away from you, despite the overwhelming urge telling you to pull him in and hug him tight. "stop acting like i'm the one making things difficult. like you're being a fucking saint trying to bring us back together when the only reason we're like this is because of you." your voice became watery, growing in volume as you finally succumbed to all the hurt and pain inside you.

"i tried to be understanding." you sobbed. "i did. i tried. you have your work and i know that it's dangerous. but seriously—you promised you'd make time for me. you promised." you sniffed, rubbing tears off your cheeks, ranting without any goal in mind. "you don't even say goodbye."

he stood frozen, your emotions hitting him square in the face and leaving him dazed. it was like the only thing he could do was stand and watch.

"i didn't want to do this." you said tearfully. "i'm sorry i said anything, okay? i'm sorry. just—leave me alone."

his eyes narrowed. "never. i'm never leaving."

your glassy eyes shot up to meet his with a hard look of their own.

"i love you, y/n. and i'm never letting you go." he said firmly, stepping closer and closer to you. he was done beating around the bush; you should know that no matter how many times you push him away, he will never leave you. he'd make up for his mistakes; all you had to do was give him a chance.

you scoffed. "love? you love me?"

he caged you against the opposite counter with two arms on either side of you. "yeah. i do."

you stared up at him, tears staining your cheeks. "you're a liar."

"y/n." he growled—a warning.

"can't go back into the world having the poor little wife weighing on your conscious, is that it?" you snapped. "never stopped you before."

"y/n."

"no." you ducked under his arm, leaving the kitchen. you evaded his attempts to pull you back, running to the closet. grabbing a coat and your purse, you slipped on your shoes.

"where the fuck are you going?" rindou yelled after you. "this conversation isn't over."

"it is for me." you mumbled, throwing the front door open and ignoring the fire in the pit of your stomach. you got into your car and started it up. the garage opened at an agonizing pace, enough time for rindou to come bursting out the door. he stood at your window.

"y/n, you are not leaving. get out of the car."

"fuck off." you grit your teeth, your eyes raising to the rearview mirror to reverse. you screeched to a halt when you saw rindou's purple hair in the reflection. you gaped, rolling down your window and whipping your head to face him. "are you insane? move!"

he shook his head, standing in all his glory right behind the car. his arms were crossed and his weight rested on one hip; the picture of stubbornness. "you're gonna have to run me over."

you scoffed, laughing breathlessly at the absurd situation. "i'll call the police."

"you won't."

you grabbed your phone. "i will, don't try and stop me from leaving."

"you won't call the police, and you wanna know why?" rindou let his head fall to his shoulder. "you love me. i know you do."

you opened your mouth to retort.

"don't even try to deny it." he chuckled lowly. "you're just protecting yourself, baby. you're protecting yourself from the nightmare you call a husband, right?"

your eyes rounded, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

he walked to your side of the car, reaching through the opening to flick the window button. he slipped his hand out as it began to slowly slide back up.

"leave, then. just know i'm not going to stop my efforts to get you back." he smiled as he went back into the house.

the window closed completely.

you were brimming with annoyance, yet you couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache when you pulled out of the driveway, leaving your house—and rindou—behind.

this was so self-indulgent lol. i know they mean well, but when people apologize so quickly and with such intensity, i just get frustrated that i had to get to such a low point to see any remorse or change from them. and of course, i can't argue without crying my eyes out. anyway, do we want a part two?

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[luveline]

hi jade! could i request a luna lovegood!reader x eddie munson blurb? maybe him feeling protective over her in a situation? thank you! congrats on 46k :)

You have a soft touch.  

“Hello,” you whisper, scratching your nails into the soft underside of your new cat’s chin, “hello, baby Teeby. You’re back.” 

“You gotta stop leaving the window open.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, scratching right where the cat wants it, his little black face twisting into your touch. “Really, Eddie, I don’t mean for him to get out, but you’re right, of course you are. I have to remember he’s here now. Anything could’ve happened when he got out.” 

He didn’t mean for you to take his reminder so hard. “Hey, it’s okay. I found him, didn’t I?” 

You hadn’t noticed the cat was gone. To an outside observer you seem irresponsible, but Eddie knows the details of the story. You opened the window to the bedroom to let fresh air inside, then someone knocked on your door and you left to answer while the cat escaped. 

You’re new to cats. You didn’t realise he’d be eager to leave, but luckily Eddie caught him scratching at the wall of your house trying to get back up again. No harm, no foul. A lesson learned. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, baby Teeby,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss his head gently. “I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’ll get you a screen for the window, alright? That way you can keep it open.” 

“You will?” 

“Babe, I love you. Getting you a screen for your window is the least I’d do, right?” He holds your cheek, kissing you while you’re not kissing the cat. Your lips are balmy, and you smell like lavender up close. 

“I keep forgetting he lives with me now, I just assume any noise he makes is my ghost upstairs.” 

“He seems like he’s settling in fine.” He means great. Baby Teeby couldn’t be happier, you’re a good match for one another, affectionate creatures with gentle dispositions. Teeby didn’t do much when Eddie grabbed him besides meow. “Do you like him?” 

“I love having company when I miss you, honey,” you say, catching his eye as you say that pet name. He never imagined somebody could look at him and think something sweet like that. 

“Yeah, but do you like him?” he asks with a laugh, nudging you over to squish next to you on the bed. 

“Obviously I like him, he’s gorgeous. His heart is beautiful. He reminds me of you.” 

“He’s not evil when my back is turned?” 

Your laugh is high-pitched from the suddenness of it, then everywhere. If you laughed like that in public you’d draw stares. “He sleeps on my chest like a baby, Eddie, he’s just like you.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Alright, awesome, you like him, can you stop with the comparisons?”

The cat slinks from under your loving hand into Eddie’s lap. He looks up at Eddie, so different from you, rougher and louder, and he squints his yellowy eyes. 

“Hi, baby Teeby,” he murmurs. 

Teeby relaxes, tail unfurling against Eddie’s chest. 

“See, you’re twin flames. You’re like my two soulmates.” You tap his jaw with the flat of your fingernail. “Though he’s a little more handsome.” 

“I never shoulda got you the damn thing.” 

[naturesapphic]

Hi I love your blog and this is actually my first time requesting so sorry if it’s awkward but can I request a intersex Jade West X girlfriend reader where she accidentally calls Jade “Daddy” during sex but Jade ends up loving it!

Day four: Daddy Jade

Intersex!Jade west x fem!reader

Warnings: daddy!jade, smut, intersex

Kinktober masterlist

Her hands were wrapped around your throat as she pounds you from behind. The slapping of y’all’s skin and the moans were the only sounds present in jades bedroom. She said her parents were going to be out of town for a while so you decided to stay with her until they came back which was fine by your mom as she loves Jade.

So when you grabbed your things and headed outside to jades car you knew that these upcoming weeks with her will bring your relationship closer. Which it definitely did since she has you bent over on the bed, fucking you from behind. She was pounding you so good that you were seeing stars and you couldn’t form a word.

“You feel so good babygirl. Your walls squeezing my cock so nicely.” Jade grunted as she grabs your hips harshly, digging her nails into your skin. You were trying to respond to her, anything but you couldn’t spit it out until you babbled something. “D-daddy!” You moaned out and you felt Jade stop her movements, making you whine out. She slapped your ass harshly, making you stop your whining.

“Say that again.” She said as she grabs you by your hair, pulling on it. “D-daddy…” you whimper and she groans. “That’s so fucking hot baby. Keep calling me that.” She demands as she starts to thrust into you again, grabbing onto your hips with force. With each thrust you felt yourself about to cum undone and Jade knew it too, she could feels your walls get tighter and tighter. “Gonna cum for daddy princess?” Jade said lowly by your ear as she keeps ramming into you.

You let out a quiet “yes daddy” and not long after that, you came hard all around her cock. Jade waited for a few minutes before gently pulling out, your cum leaking from your pulsating hole. Jade smirks as she watches it drip from your hole, her secretly loving it. After Jade did your aftercare, she was holding you in her arms in her bed as you laid on top of her. “You definitely need to keep calling me daddy. That was so hot.” She admitted and you giggle as you gently slapped her arm. “Oh I definitely will.”

A/n: thank you so much for your request anon! You did great don’t worry :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all :)

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 4) part 1, part 2, part 3

-

You remember the lock turning on the door of another room.

Ice flooding your veins. Heart suddenly tripling in speed, flush against your breastbone, close to snapping your ribs and pumping right out. A man standing in front of the locked door, barring your only way out. Petrified, but not confused; it’d always been an inevitability, something you’d long been waiting to happen, but hoping beyond hope that maybe you’d skirt by it unscathed. 

You’re in a bedroom, but you’re also in a study hundreds of miles away, cabinets along the walls filled with jade carvings and porcelain trinkets, bookcases filled with untouched first editions with the spines still stiff, a leather chair tucked into wide mahogany desk, and a grandfather clock ticking ominously in the corner. And you’re watching a man come into the room and lock the door, shutting you both inside. 

There is a bust of the same man in the corner of the room. When you sink into the memory, your eyes drag there and hold.

“Honey? Honey, are you alright?”

You come back to yourself at the sound of another man’s voice. When you blink, the memory leeches out of the corners of your eyes and you find Price looking down at you with some concern, a slight furrow between his brows. You shudder out the memory until it’s wrung out, until you’re dry of it. Sweat cools on the back of your neck. There’s a tremble in your hand that you notice when you go to rub your forehead, a shake that even Price notices, taking your wrist and pulling it to his chest.

There is no bust in the corner of the room here. The man that locked the door holds your wrist tenderly to his chest and waits for you to answer, his lips still sloped down. The black spots fade from your vision one by one, panic retreating back into your bones. It leaves a too big hole inside of you. 

You know it’s still within you. It slumbers in the marrow of your bones; it cowers in there, sometimes close enough to kiss or close enough to cradle your head and crack it against the nearest ledge. 

“Honey?” he asks again. The deep tenor of his voice moves something back to life inside of you, as much as it pains you to admit. Even to yourself. 

You blink up at him, only realizing how dry your mouth is when you croak out, “I’m—I’m alright. Apologies.”

He doesn’t seem much convinced. Perhaps he has a right to doubt your words. You can’t see the tormented thing staring back at him. 

“I’ve given you a few too many frights today,” Price sighs, head dropping towards you, like drawing a curtain around the two of you. “Thought maybe you needed a bit of a push, but you’re not quite there, darling, are you?”

“Not where?” you ask, lost. “Where am I not?”

For once, he doesn’t answer, doesn’t try to force his vision into your head. It shocks you when he dips his head to press his lips against your forehead, lingering there for several moments. Breathing you in. You let him linger there, half-curious yourself, a softness suffusing into you like breath. 

“Are you hungry enough to eat? Or straight to bed?”

His words give you a nervous thrill, but when you catch his eye, there’s nothing to read there. Absent of double meaning. He’s asking you if you’re hungry and if you’re wanting to eat. 

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m still…well, I’ve had a bit of a cramp all afternoon. I don’t think I’m up to eating.”

“Not even tea or cake?”

The thought intrigues you, but not enough for your stomach to untwist. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

He hums against your forehead, then presses another kiss there, then a third on your temple, breathing out a puff of air that blows across your face and tickles your nose. “Not hungry for anything then,” he surmises, and you hear it there, the silvery flipside of an innuendo. You scrunch up your nose and flinch when he chuckles. “How about just a bath then? And then we’ll tuck in for the night.” 

“That sounds nice. Do you, um…I could help if you want?"

“Already fetched the water earlier today. Wash tub’s downstairs. You can stay here or come down and wait until the water’s warm.”

Finally, he pulls back and puts some space between the two of you. Something buried deep in your chest clicks when he unlocks the door and steps out. You try not to look at it too hard. 

You follow him downstairs, more out of habit than anything. With the water already fetched from the well and Price starting a fire to heat it up enough for a warm bath, there’s not much for you to do besides wait, but you join him downstairs anyway, taking the time to look around. 

“Toothpowder, brushes, and mint are in the drawer under the sink if you need any,” Price tells you. You don’t bother with the mint, but you use the rest to clean your teeth in the bathroom sink, a bowl of water already waiting for you to help rinse your mouth. You rethink the mint afterwards, chewing on a couple of leaves to rid your mouth of the chalky aftertaste. 

It takes awhile to heat up enough water for a bath, giving you time to peruse the rest of the house. After spending the bulk of your day locked up in his room, it’s nice to stretch your legs and move about. The rest of the house is fairly typical, barebones; Price heats up the water in a stone fireplace in the main room and at the other end of the house, you find the kitchen.

The crickets in the bushes out front are louder than you’ve ever heard them. For a moment, you stand alone by the front door, fingers twitching by your sides. It wouldn’t do you any good to run, but your feet feel quick now, light after hours of rest. You could bolt like an Appaloosas if you wanted to. 

Then Price calls your name and you drift back to the other room.

Steam billows off the water in the metal tub. It’s only halfway filled, which makes you frown; you have no right to be picky after the days you’ve spent cleaning yourself with a damp washcloth over a porcelain bowl, but you can’t help thinking that it’ll hardly come up to your waist. Still, staring at the warm water makes your skin itch; you could practically kiss the bar of soap sitting on the floor next to the tub. If there wasn’t a man in the room, your dress would already be on the floor. 

“Are you still waiting on more to heat up?” you ask, casting a glance at the fireplace where a small flame still burns. There isn’t a bucket of water hovering over it though, just a poker stowed back in its place. 

“Any more and I’ll be mopping up water for the rest of the night,” he huffs. “That’s more than enough for us.”

“Us?” you repeat. 

It only makes sense when you turn around and stare wide-eyed at Price as he untucks his shirt and starts at the buttons, each one slipped through the hole exposing a new inch of chest covered in dark hair. You make a noise at the back of your throat, half-aghast. The other half, indeterminate. If your feet weren’t glued to the floor, you’d stop him or grab his hands. Instead, you watch mutely as he pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his pants, mouth drying at each new slab of muscle revealed.

You swallow reflexively when his pants pool around his ankles on the floor. You catch a glimpse of thick thighs covered in dark hair and something heavy dangling between his legs before you avert your eyes, staring straight up at the ceiling. Sure to give yourself a kink in your neck, but perhaps forgivable this time. 

“Us?” It comes out squeaky this time, high and tight in your throat. Price laughs.

When he moves towards you, you can hardly so much as lift a finger to keep him at bay. Your body feels tethered in place, sluggish and inert. The world moves around you instead, doubly so when Price fits his hands at your waist and twists you to face away from him. 

Big hands ruck up the fabric of your dress, slowly pulling it over your head. You lift your arms for him on command, the whole time baffled by how little struggle you put up. You imagine him telling that deputy of his what an obedient little bride he’s found for himself. 

“Us,” Price confirms, emphasizing the word the same way you did. “We’d be here all night if we took turns. Water’d be ice cold by then too. You’d rather I freeze my nethers off?” You open your mouth to reply but he cuts you off. “Don’t answer that.”

That pulls a real giggle from your chest, shocking you both. Breath sits like a bubble in your chest. You feel his fingers still at the ties of your corset before pulling it through. 

He loosens each lace slowly, giving each a gentle pull. It’s nerve wracking, nail-biting tedium, the corset gradually giving way to his touch and drooping into your waist. You let him undo each of the hooks and unwrap it from your torso before pulling off your chemise underneath, flesh chilling in the open air. Even stationed behind you, you feel his stare like a heavy, weighted thing. His fingertips trace over the naked skin of your back, looping small circles just for the pleasure of touching your skin. 

Gooseflesh runs down the length of your arms, shivering from his touch as much as the cool air. You tell yourself that it means nothing just to put it all away.

“Alright, let’s get you washed up,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat. “Been awhile since you had a warm bath, I bet.” 

You turn part way around, watching him from the corner of your eye. If only he knew. 

Price gets in the tub first and it’s immediately obvious to you why he hardly filled the tub. His body takes up so much room that you frown when you realize that he expects you to get in next. It’s one of the bigger tubs you’ve ever bathed in and yet he still has to bend his knees. The sigh he lets out after relaxing against the back of the tub makes you shiver. 

When he glances up at you swelteringly, you hear the evocation unspoken. 

“If you’d just give me a minute,” you snap. 

“Darlin’.” 

The note of warning in his voice finally tips you over the edge of hesitancy where you’d been precariously balanced. 

The water is still warm when you dip a foot tentatively in. It’s easier to ignore the indulgent smile on Price’s face than engage with it, sure you’d shout yourself hoarse if you finally let your composure crack. 

You think it vaguely humiliating to have to turn around in front of Price in the tub in order to lower yourself to sit. He doesn’t touch you yet, but there’s no way to avoid the weight of his eyes on your backside. It’s not something you’ve thought about much before. A man’s hands on you, stripped bare for him, lowering yourself into a hot bath with him. 

You peek over your shoulder. “Do you ever stop staring?”

A pointless question. He doesn’t even meet your eye to respond, just stares at the curve of your ass with heavy lidded eyes, the faintest pink hue high on his cheeks. He hums instead. You purse your lips.

The water sloshes up the side of the tub when he pulls you down abruptly, settling your back against his chest. You stiffen in the cradle of his arms and chest, acutely aware of every point of your body pressed into his. When Price sighs now, it reverberates through your back and chest. 

“Why does it feel like you’ve been run against a whetstone?” he asks. The sound drips heavy from his lips because the room is silent apart from him, apart from the gentle lapping of the bath water against the sides of the tub and the water trickling from the washcloth when he lifts it out of the water and gives it a wring. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, frowning. 

“You’re all sharp, all hard edges. If I’m not careful, you might run me through.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you married me,” you huff. 

That gets another laugh out of him, raising your hackles. It’s hard to differentiate between ridicule and endearment. You opt for the former to guard yourself, to keep yourself safe. 

“I’ll take my chances.”

You can’t think of a way to respond to that. It’s loaded in an uncomfortable way. It’s easier to just let it pass into silence. Price doesn’t seem anxious for you to respond anyway, thankfully, instead reaching out of the tub to grab the bar of soap still on the floor. The movement pushes his pelvis into you, the length between his legs pressing against the small of your back. You jolt forward only for him to wrap an arm around your waist and haul you back. More water splashes over the rim.

“Christ, you’re skittish,” he gripes. 

“What do you expect me to do?” You squirm in his hold, which only makes his arm constrict tighter around you, drawing you even closer. 

“Sit there and let me wash you, for one. What’s got you all riled up?”

“You know exactly what,” you say, face hot when you feel it press against you again. 

“My—”

“Yes, that,” you hiss, digging your nails into his forearm. 

“Squirming around isn’t gonna make it go away,” Price teases, squeezing once before finally letting you go. You scoot forward as much as he allows, but it’s for naught; you can feel it press against you still. 

In the brief silence, Price lathers up the cloth until it froths, then puts the bar of soap back down on the floor. You almost stop him to say that you can wash yourself, but he starts on your arms before you’re so much as able to part your lips. 

Your nipples bead when he drags the washcloth over your chest. The material is coarse, almost abrasive, and when you wince, Price murmurs a soft apology into your ear. He’s softer when he pulls your legs one after the other from the water and sets your foot on the rim of the tub, dragging the cloth over your calves and up the inside of your thighs. You shake when his hand disappears under the water, biting your lip until it hurts.

You sit with the silence instead of electing to fill it. It’s better that way anyway; words can unravel so many interiorities that long for stasis. And what has the man at your back done to earn your words anyway, besides lock you up and throw away the key?

You’ll figure your way out eventually. It’s only a matter of time. 

His own washup is perfunctory, performed only to get it over with. None of the affection reserved for washing you. He barely makes you lean forward before dragging the cloth haphazardly across his chest, getting a few good scrubs in before calling it a day. 

“I can’t imagine why you’d spend so much time filling a bath just to wash up in five minutes,” you say, peering over your shoulder at him. Expressly not focusing on the pillowy muscles of his chest or the dark, wet hair now flush with his skin. 

“Haven’t used the tub in months,” he grunts, dunking the cloth in the bath water until it comes out clean. He wrings it dry before hanging it over the rim. “There’s a creek out back, ‘bout a ten minute walk from here.”

You frown. “You usually bathe in a creek?” 

“What’s the point in spending time heating up enough water for a bath when there’s a perfectly good creek nearby? Water’s water.”

“You did it for me.”

“That’s different.”

You roll your eyes. “It shouldn’t be.”

“You like to fuss over nothing, huh?” Price remarks. Again, it’s said so earnestly that it makes your skin prickle. 

When you stand, the water rushes off you in a wave, leaving you slick and cooling rapidly in the air. Your teeth clatter until he steps out of the tub to fetch you a towel, wrapping you up in it and patting you dry. You get a bit dizzy when he kneels before you to dry your legs, swaying on your feet. Under your breath, you mumble something like, you don’t have to. 

He ignores you. For reasons unbeknownst to you, you let it go. 

Your bare feet pick up stray dust and debris on your way back up the stairs alone. You wipe them off on the mat at the door before changing into your shift while Price empties the tub downstairs. The oil lamp on the bedside table illuminates most of the room when you light the wick and delicately put the chimney back in place, apart from the elongated shadows that hang from the corners like spiderwebs. 

The bed looks different when you know you’re meant to share it. You try not to tense up too much when you hear Price come up the stairs, eyeing him nervously from the other side of the room. 

“You’ve got that look again, darling,” he says, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t lock it this time. The knot in your shoulder aches when they untense. 

“What look?” you ask, averting your gaze when he drops the towel to change into his nightwear.

“Like a doe.”

You snort, distinctly unladylike. “Like a deer before it’s shot?”

“The very same. Didn’t I tell you it’d be straight to bed?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. In the back of your mind, you must have assumed he was placating you, saying words just to soothe. It’s rare that men speak plainly and mean it. Over the years, you’ve learned to read into second meanings and real intentions couched in soft words. Men like to think themselves simple, but you know a vast underground world. 

Some part of you grows anxious with your own inability to play the part of his simpering wife. He must have thought he’d be taking to bed something nurturing and with wings. It’d be easier if you just acquiesced; you can’t imagine he’d worry so much about his doting wife fleeing in the middle of the night. Not the wife happy to spread her legs for him.

“Why are you so patient?” you ask him outright instead. 

He takes a moment to answer, studying you. His face by lamplight is inscrutable. “Nothing good comes plucked too soon.”

“You don’t think that God gave you the right to—” You can’t say the words, but he understands. 

“The methods of God take pickaxes and shovels to uncover,” Price says, so simply, so plainly. You hardly understand what he means. “It’s not a man’s place to rush to understand His intentions.”

You think it’s almost unfair for a man to say those words to you when you plan on running away from him. It makes you dig your nails into the palms of your hands. 

You’re still nervous when you crawl into bed, eyeing him when he settles on his side and turns the lamp off, cupping his palm around the glass and blowing out the flame. There’s little to worry about though. Price doesn’t so much as shift from his side of the bed. 

The world outside is beyond gold and red now, when you stare out the window from where you lie on your side. When you think of the past, it comes with a searing pain. Then, it is no more.

[lorelune]

(minors & ageless blogs dni. a piece for @ainescribe for helping me with my theme 💓 cw: predator/prey, hints of dubcon)

"i'll give you a head start."

jing yuan tells you this with a pleasant, easy smile and his hands behind his back. and no context. you cock your head at him from across the little table you share, and take a sip of your cold tea.

"come again, dear?" you knock your ankle against his under the table.

"i'm giving you a five minute head start." jing yuan leans closer and rests his chin his palm. his eyes take on a cat-like glint. "i've already started counting. i'd get going if i were you, sweetling."

you only want more of it.

your chest feels tight all of a sudden.

"jing yuan—"

"i won't be going easy on you." his smile verges on smug as he leans forward. "and i would advise to take full advantage of this time. i think you'll need it."

he leans away from you and tilts his head. it would be cute if you couldn't see the rapidly darkening mischief in his gaze. you jolt up from your little table, clattering your chair on the cobbled walkway. he eyes you up and down like a big cat sizing up its next meal as you step backwards, nearly stumbling.

something in your gut twists, like a hot iron.

you turn on a heel and walk as fast as you can without drawing too much attention to yourself. weaving around the late-night crowds and ducking around street vendors and their burning latterns, your heart pounds. faster and faster.

this had been your idea originally. you just hadn't expected jing yuan to entertain it (though on some level, he entertains all of your ideas.) this desire of yours seemed too risky, too innately... unlike him. at least to you.

this game had been a fantasy. one you'd confessed your interest in a few weeks prior, while luxuriating in a pleasantly steaming bath together. you shared a glass of wine, passed between sips after a slow, tender evening. you'd playfully started a conversation about things to try in the bedroom, and somehow, the Divine Foresight and honey wine managed to wring a few previously unspoken desires out of you.

this is the result, you suppose, as you stumble around a corner, toward jing yuan's estate.

you should've known that jing yuan would spring this fantasy on your unexpectedly. that was part of the allure. the hunt, the chase— you're just prey now, with no time to prepare or plan. the innate helplessness has already stirred something in you, even though jing yuan hasn't done anymore than send you hungry looks and promises.

you're sure five minutes have passed. you're positive that the man is trailing you, even if you can't hear or see him. you don't have the military prowess that he does, you're just a civilian. your footfalls are loud as you break into a run near his estate and its towering walls.

your hands shake as you hold your jade abacus to its lock. the slow 'clunk' of gears opening the gates feels like it goes on forever. your heart is pounding in your ears, like a drum that won't stop. you're out of breath, but force yourself to sprint the moment the door swings open.

you hide in one of his gardens.

jing yuan has many green spaces on his estate. it's situated on a large enough space to allow for a small stream running through the largest garden into the front yard. ponds gurgle nearby, filled with fat, sleepy fish. you wake them as you dash around the greenery and shrubs, uncaring of the dirt that is staining your shoes. the bottom of your outer most garment must be getting torn as it snags on the brush below.

the gate of the estate opens and closes once more, somewhere not far behind you. your heart lurches, your stomach feels cold and hollow and you run.

jing yuan knows his estate better than you, clearly. you don't know where is safe, but in his largest garden, there are large gingko trees and stones that seem okay to hide behind. maybe. you are too anxious, too out of your fucking mind, to use sound logic at this point. you scramble behind a smooth quartz boulder and lay a hand on your chest. panting. tears sting your the corners eyes as you desperately try to catch your breath.

you listen the best you can to see if you can hear him follow you. it's hard to pick up every little sound, breeze shakes the tree branchers into a late-evening song. cicadas chirp to disguise any potential footfalls. it would probably be best to hide somewhere on the edge of the garden. you're in the center of it, not far from the stream. you don't dare peak out from your hiding spot, but you should move— you feel so exposed—

a floorboard creaks nearby. you freeze.

the wind almost stills with the sound. you can't breathe as you strain to hear more. it came from the west, where you know there's an entrance to this garden. you think. probably. your heart pounds so loudly, you can barely hear anything over the roar.

you do another sound, though. the sound of a boot fall, onto stone. there's a path laid with them not far from where you are.

something white-hot, old and feral burst in your chest.

you need to fucking run.

with a burst of energy that makes you feel light-headed, you push off the ground and throw yourself over the rock you were hiding behind, away from the sounds that are surely jing yuan stalking you.

your feet hit the ground and you run. run, run, run—

you swear you can feel more footfalls than just your own, but you can't look behind you. all of your focus is on weaving through the gardens trees and shrubbery, to gain and sort of ground.

you stumble, eventually. it's inevitable that you lose. the game is set up that way.

you trip over your own feet as you near the little stream that cuts the garden and gurgles. your momentum ruins you; you can't right yourself fast enough.

a hand catches the back of your collar and pulls. your breath catches, caught in your throat by the pressure. an arm, his arm, bundle you up at the waist and slams your body into his. your back to his front. the force of it knocks the air out of you.

you still scramble, you can't help it. squirming and kicking, you fight against the unyielding grip he has on you. he's hot against your back, scalding even. the metal bits of his armor and belts dig into your as your struggle fruitlessly.

"what's this?" jing yuan says into your ear, soft and curling. "i thought you would do a little better than this."

you whine. your stomach feels cold.

jing yuan laughs then, rich and low like he always does. but there's a darker edge to it now. you can feel it spread down the back of your neck, your spine, drenching you down to your toes. he squeezes you, and you feel yourself get wet.

(you're fucked.)

"you'll have to try harder next time." jing yuan says. "maybe i did go a little easy on you."

"s-sure you did—"

jing yuan nips your ear. "what was that? i didn't realize prey animals were capable of speech."

you crane your neck, ready to snap at him, but you don't get the chance too.

in a single motion, jing yuan has you thrown over his shoulder. blood rushes too quickly to all of the places it shouldn't be. you feel dizzy with it and whine and sputter with it.

jing yuan doesn't yield, only laughs again, and gives your bottom a few firm (very firm) pats. you gulp.

(lucidly remembering the other details you revealed to jing yuan in the bath that night. all of the filthiest bits of your fantasies. jing yuan hardly had to ply you for them.)

and jing yuan is a strategist. you should have known he would use this new information advantageously against you in such a way.

as you enter his manor, heart still pounding, palms clammy, and feeling like a rabbit in the jaws of a lion, you feel foolish and turned on all once. jing yuan so easily catches you off guard when he chooses. he so easily undoes you, puts you in a place of his choosing and let's you fester there just enough that he can remedy it— either with sweetness or, as he now so adeptly showing you, with something an edge darker.

you gulp, light-headed.

[meiluu]

Dreamin’ about cowboys

Tyler Owens / Reader(Female) cw: SMUT 18+, FLUFF, domestic, pregnancy. a.n: no joke after I came home from watching the new twisters movie I took a nap and had one of the most vivid dreams about being pregnant on a cute cottage/farmhouse while being cuddled by Glen Powell/Tyler Owens. So uh, that’s the main inspo for this, give thanks to my weird but amazing subconsciousness.

*not edited, sorry for any mistakes*

The warm rays of sunlight kept you comfortably cozy while you sat in a rocking chair on your front porch, nursing some homemade sweet tea. And there making his way to you was your handsome cowboy. Cheeks flushed from the rush of adrenaline he’d gotten while chasing his latest tornado. Signature smile across his face as he quickly made his way up the steps of your beautiful home.

With a bit of difficulty you’re able to get up and meet him halfway. Strong and familiar arms wrap themselves around you, Tyler’s stubble tickling your neck as he buries himself into your embrace. “Missed you, how’re my girls doin’” pulling away, Tyler’s warm and calloused hand gently cups your rounded stomach, softly caressing the bump.

“Oh you know, constantly hungry for the weirdest of things and aching in places I didn’t know I could ache in.” Your words elicit a laugh out of the cowboy. “But besides all of that, we're good. Just missed you.” Reaching a hand up to his stubbly cheek pressing a kiss to his warm skin. One of his hands linger on the small of your back while the other pushes a rebellious piece of hair behind your ear, gently cupping your cheek. Leaning down to you, lips meeting your own. Your heart flutters within your chest, no matter how many times you kissed it still felt like your first time. Mouths dancing together, your hands reach up to tug on his soft wind tussled hair. A soft groan rumbles from within his chest, and as your kisses deepen Tyler is quickly lifting you off your feet so effortlessly.

House memorized like the back of his hand, he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Setting you down with the utmost care on the plush comforter below. Pulling away from your mouth, you watch as Tyler leans back a stares at you. Jade green eyes roam over your figure, "God its like you get more and more beautiful everyday." His words are nothing but honest, full of adoration for you. You feel your cheeks blush at his words, upon seeing your pink cheeks a mischievous smirk makes its way onto his gorgeous face. Rough hands caress your body's newfound curves making their way to the front of your simple milkmaid dress. Undoing the little bow keeping your breasts from spilling out.

The soft fabric gives way and is pushed aside by Tyler's hands, leaning back down he kisses every inch of skin within reach. Leaving behind little love bites for you to admire in the mirror tomorrow morning. Making his way up your chest, to your neck then taking your sweet lips back to his. His hands continue to lovingly massage your sides, paying extra attention to your hips that spend all day holding and cradling your baby girl.

One hand wonders downward, going underneath the skirt of your dress going right where you need him most. Pulling off your panties, throwing them over the side of the bed. A whimper tumbles from your kiss swollen lips as Tyler begins to swirl your clit, fingers gathering your embarrassing amount of slick. Then he is sinking a finger inside, then two. Your left hand tangles into the comforter while your other tightly grips onto Tyler's arm that still dutifully holding onto your waist.

"Tyler, I need you." you can't help the desperation within your voice. "I know baby, but I gotta stretch you out first." a needy whine leaves you at his words, a pout forming onto your lips. And its takes everything within Tyler to not immediately give into you. But it wouldn't be long before he'd have you moaning and panting out his name as he gave you everything you wanted.

Fingers rubbing up against your sensitive walls, curling up perfectly to hit the one spot within you that has you keening out in pleasure. A soft groan leaves Tyler as your walls clamp down upon his fingers, a telltale sign that you were close. "Come on baby, need you to cum around my fingers. Then I'm all yours." Voice husky with strained lust.

Tyler watches with rapt attention as your hips grind down onto his hand, fingers going in and out of your pretty cunt. The noises from your squelching cunt fills the air around you, accompanied by your breathy moans and Tyler's muffled groans. You feel that all too familiar heat creeping down your spine, twisting that metaphorical ball of pleasure that sits so heavily down past your navel. Then not a moment later are you baring down upon Tyler's fingers cunt clenching rhythmically around him as he continues to fuck his fingers into your spasming cunt.

Tyler watches as your breathing slowly evens out as your come down from your high, then he's slowly pulling his fingers from you. Then he's tearing off his clothes carelessly discarding them to the side, with nothing left to take off he helps you out of your dress. Crawling up to where his face is right above yours, muscled arms boxing in your head. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him, shielding you from the chill from your bedroom.

"Ty please."

"I know baby, I know."

Green eyes watch as his precum covered cock, sinks into you. Eyes rolling back into his head at the euphoric feeling of your warm and wet cunt that welcomes him so perfectly. Hips picking up into a deep and measured pace, perfect for pushing those heavenly moans from your lips while also giving just the right amount of pleasure to both of you. Your hands abandon the comforter to latch onto Tyler's strong back, relishing in the warmth he brings as you fingers feel his muscles tighten beneath your palms. Tyler lets his head fall to rest right beside your ear, filling your head with his filthy words and noises.

"Always take me so well."

"Just like that baby."

"Fuck, baby can you hear just how wet you are?"

Each husky phrase that tumbles from his mouth has you arching your back up into him, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. With every thrust in and out of you, your cunt squeezes down on him trying to keep him in. Your sweet sounds of pleasure ring through Tyler's ears, lighting a trail of white hot pleasure down his spine leading down towards his heavy balls that are just begging to fill you up. As if you weren't already pregnant, if Tyler could he'd get you pregnant again. Seeing you so beautiful with your belly swollen with your baby had lit an insatiable fire within him that would probably never be snuffed out. You were always breathtakingly gorgeous but when you had gotten pregnant it was game over, Tyler didn't know you could get more stunning and yet you always prove him wrong.

"Ty- I'm close." a moan interrupts your words halfway through saying them, but good thing Tyler knew your body just as well as you and could already feel your cunt getting tighter and tighter as you neared your second orgasm of the night. "I'm right there with you." rushing his words out as he groans out as you tighten up again around him. One of Tylers hands leaves its spot beside your head quickly bringing it down to swirl your clit, not a moment later are you falling in bliss as you cum hard around Tyler's still pistoning cock. A waterfall of curses leaves Tyler as feels himself swell then cum just right behind you. Warmth fills your lower belly as Tyler continues to slowly grind into you, riding out both of your highs, eventually coming to a stop.

Your eyes hazy with leftover pleasure watch as Tylers sculpted body rises, watching him watch as his spend dribbles out of you as he pulls his softening cock from you. Pupils blown wide as a hearty groan fills the space around you both. The vision in front of him is seared into his mind, and he'd make sure of it. His eyes take in you flushed face that traveled to the tops of your swollen breasts, kiss bitten skin, tussled hair, you were a fuckin vision he'd spend the rest of his life admiring.

Giving you a sweet kiss, he announces that he's going to the bathroom. A little while later does he come back with a warm wash cloth, with gentle hands does he wipe you down. Getting you comfortable in bed, he grabs one of his large pj shirts for you and a pair of boxers for himself. Grabbing you, Tyler tucks you beneath his chin as your face rest against his chest. Sleep quickly lulls you both under, as the moon rise higher into the night sky.

As the sun peaks above the horizon are you waking up, your little one seeming hellbent on rising along with the sun. Shuffling with sleepiness still clinging to you, you head to the bathroom then back into your bedroom. Pulling on some panties and a loose pair of shorts, muffling a laugh at the utter disarray you and Tyler left behind last night. Somehow your cowboys boxers had ended up hanging off your vanity, deciding to just leave it there, knowing that when he woke up he'd get a good laugh out of it.

With soft footsteps you head towards the kitchen, prepping up a cup of warm tea. Something you've had to switch to while being pregnant, no coffee until after giving birth. Once the your warm cup is in your hands do you head out back to your couch swing that Tyler had set up last spring. Settling down into the soft cushions, watching as the sun begins to rise higher and higher above the horizon. When you're halfway done with your cup do you hear Tylers footsteps making their way to you. Turning your head, you can't help the wide smile that pulls at your cheeks. Tylers hair looks like a tornado has hit it, clad in some baggy sweatpants. "Good mornin'." his voice is still husky with sleep, "Good morning." Your eyes follow him has he sits down next to you, then he's pulling you into his lap wrapping you up in his embrace. Snuggling deeper into his warmth, you both sit in the quiet of the early morning watching as the sun announces to the world that a new day has started. And you wouldn't wanna be anywhere but right here in your home with the man that you love with all your being right next you. With a warm and protective hand caressing your baby pump, your daughter fluttering beneath the familiar hand of her daddy.

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘’𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

and their wives were asked the mostly random places where they did it.

pairing: husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x fem! reader(s)

cw: they're just talking about places they had/have sex. mdi. not beta-read.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 (𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐔) 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

𝐍𝐕!𝐖: His main seat in the court at the Opera Epiclese. We also do it in his office but Neuvi prefers to do it at home... Although I must say that in our dating days, there wasn't a single room in our house that hadn't remained... untouchable.

𝐖𝐑!𝐖: Our office. Whenever we can, of course. We've fucked several times at some expeditions to the abandoned zone of ​​the fortress as well. We were never caught. But if we're going to talk about our most unusual experiences, I can only think of the memorable time Wrio pressed me against the wall behind Wolsey's cafeteria during dinner time. We had to silence one of the guards that night.

𝐍𝐕!𝐖: My my. That's so scandalous. I like that.

𝐊𝐙!𝐖: During my husband's pirate days, we used to escape to the crow's nest a lot. If there were some goods to be transported, he’d pull me behind its boxes. I have to say that living a nomadic life taught me to overcome the fear and shyness of having sex outdoors and enjoy the excitement the environment provides. Liyue has some perfect hiding spots for this. 

𝐊𝐕!𝐖: I agree. Although I haven't had any crazy adventures like you, I must say that it was quite thrilling to seduce Kaveh while we stayed at my sister's Jade Chamber. She had given us the suite with the biggest balcony and… well… You can imagine what happened after that. The height and high exposure help to increase the adrenaline. 

𝐂𝐘!𝐖: Now I understand why you guys have such exhibitionist nighttime adventures. Thank you for enlightening us, my dear. But anyway. Just like our dear friend Lady Kaedehara, it isn’t uncommon for Cyno and I to have our intimate moments outdoors since we travel to the desert quite often. You can say that we already know the right caves and ruins where we can make it without getting caught in any inconvenience. However, my favorite adventure of ours would be that one where I rode him in the Grand Sage’s office. 

𝐊𝐕!𝐖: Damn girl, you are just as shameless if not more than me. 

𝐀𝐇!𝐖: I'd say the two of you are more similar with each other than you let on. Well, you see, Alhaitham prefers to have sex in environments where we won't be caught much less interrupted. That doesn't mean we haven't had our intimate moments outside of our bedroom, of course. I think the most frequented ones in this regard would be his office, my classroom, and the restricted book aisle in the House of Daena. Oh, and there was also that time we escaped out of the tavern to somewhere outdoors when we had that group dinner. 

𝐊𝐕!𝐖: I told you she wasn't feeling sick. 

𝐂𝐘!𝐖: It surprises me how you can say such filthy things with that innocent face of yours. 

𝐖𝐑!𝐖: And you, my dear? I believe that Lyney is a very romantic partner just because of the way he looks at you. 

𝐋𝐍!𝐖: He is. Although he is also a little… unpredictable. I believe it won't even surprise you if I say that we've fucked several times behind the stage or in our dressing room. Plus, Lyney likes to eat me out in places we visit for the first time so not even the office at his Father's orphanage escaped that. 

𝐍𝐕!𝐖: My goodness. Appearances really can be deceiving. 

𝐋𝐍!𝐖: Tell me about it. I couldn't have a proper conversation with his Father for an entire month without remembering her showing up at her own office and finding her son with his head between her daughter-in-law's thighs. 

𝐊𝐙!𝐖: Her? 

𝐋𝐍!𝐖: Long story short his father is a woman. 

𝐀𝐇!𝐖: Interesting.

𝐖𝐑!𝐖: Well. Needless to say we're having a pleasant talk here. I must say though that we had some very unusual experiences and others full of twists. I think we should make a toast. To our passionate adventures and for those yet to come!

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒

𝐖𝐑: The girls are quite noisy today, huh.

𝐂𝐘: Definitely they are. What do you think they're giggling about? 

𝐊𝐕 & 𝐊𝐙: You'd rather not know.

[merakiui]

wait wait wait wait gimme a sec……big bad wolf Jade and Red Riding Hood reader 😳 going to visit your granny but ending up banged and stuffed by this big wolf guy (maybe even +hunter Floyd)

AAAAAAA OTL OTL down tremendously bad for wolf Jade,,,, so scummy…… such a silver-tongued wolf, trying to tempt and stray you from your path to grandmother’s house. >_< he’s so hungry, you see. :< won’t you find some kindness in your heart to stop and lend him something sweet from your basket? That jar of homemade strawberry marmalade looks particularly delicious. :) but you rip it away from his clawed hands and insist that you must be on your way, for your grandmother is expecting you. He smiles like he understands and he doesn’t follow you, but you can’t stop looking over your shoulder the rest of the way.

Can you truly blame a ravenous wolf for making a meal out of your grandmother? You make it to her small cottage to find a smattering of blood soaking the walls of her bedroom, staining the wallpaper, the linen sheets, everything in sight. And who should be waiting for you, licking that same blood from his fingers, but that terrible wolf!!!! It truly is a shame, he tells you, for if you had just shown him an ounce of pity he’d have left perfectly satisfied. Alas, he’s still craving something sweet and you smell very appetizing, even more so when you try to flee. <3

Maybe you’re a virgin,,, the village sweetheart praised for being so pure and kindhearted. You don’t quite look like one anymore, though, with your tear-streaked expression and the way your lips have been bitten and bruised from so many hungry kisses. orz he could be merciful and kill you here, but then he wouldn’t have the chance to savor this sweet treat.

Thick wolf cock bullying its way into your tight pussy….. claws scraping at the pudgy flesh of your hips and inner thighs, drawing pinpricks of blood that make you wince and cry out. His thumb grinding harshly against your clit,, a slobbering, bloodstained mouth at your throat, whether to taste your pulse or rip out your jugular with those sharp teeth of his. And such big, calloused hands—big enough to grab you and slam you back down on his knot when you try to escape, pinning you there so you can take all of him inside.

It’s just too much for your little womb to handle, but it satisfies the wolf and his big, bad appetite for fragile things like you. You’re lucky enough to escape with your life, but you can’t say the same for the rest of you. :( you’re only given the opportunity to escape because he allows it—and there’s some lesson to be learned about being kind and generous to those less fortunate, or whatever he’s pretending to be—because he expects to cross paths with you again, and surely then he’ll take what he believes to be his.

And hunter Floyd….. maybe he’s also a wolf, but he likes living amongst humans in this quaint village, so he’s taken to disguising himself. Hiding his ears under a hat or hooded cloak. Stuffing his bushy tail away so no one sees it. Taking care not to show off his teeth so much, or else overly suspicious townsfolk might start crying wolf. Hunting the other beasts in the forest is no problem for him, and the villagers absolutely adore him and his silly, boyish charms.

But Floyd only has eyes for Little Red, and ever since you returned to the village a right mess, tattered, crimson cloak barely covering anything, and looking like you’ve just tussled (and lost) with quite the formidable monster it’s given him an opening to cozy up to you. He’ll hunt the beast who slaughtered your grandmother! You needn’t fear.

Unfortunately, Floyd isn’t the strongest man wolf, and it’s getting harder to do everything the human way when the wolf way is so much easier, if not particularly brutal. But he’ll endure and he’ll be patient because when he takes down that beast you’ll appreciate his efforts and sheer loyalty, and maybe then you’ll stop scoffing every time he tries to strike up flirty conversation with you. Maybe you’ll finally take him seriously and see him as a man wolf worthy of your love.

[princessbrunette]

Step bro John b got me thinking, what if John b didn’t take up the offer to bone his step sis because he is too much of a problem solver to create more problems so jj gives her what she wants, fucking her realll good he would so be like “John b is mean huh? Doesn’t wanna take care of his lil sis” while balls deep inside you. His so pervy

ต( ິᵒ̴̶̷̤ ﻌ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ )ິ王女୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

“somethin’ bout this bein’ a secret really turns you on, huh?” jj winces, voice low and husky in your ear as he grinds his dick through your walls, all but dropping his weight on you in your bedroom. john b was off chasing some lead across the water, stupidly leaving jj to ‘keep an eye on you’ as if you were the troublemaker out of the two.

jj had wanted to be a good friend, but the opportunity presented itself — being you walking around a bikini top and the tiniest skirt to mankind, and unlike john b jj wasn’t one to waste perfectly good pussy being dangled right below his nose.

which is how you ended up with him inside you, unable to resist his charms. “just wanted to feel good, jayj.” you mewl, voice trembling with each fast and sudden thrust of his hips, drilling into you. by instinct, you throw a hand back to push against his tummy and he lightly smacks it out the way.

“move that hand, mama. you wanted this.” he drawls, that charming southern twang making your walls flutter around the shaft that you had glossed with your arousal.

“are—are you g’nna tell john b?” you whine, and to be honest — you’re not sure what you want the answer to be. you keep this little rendezvous to yourself and stay turned on by the idea of being a sexy little secret — or you face the consequences of a jealous and jaded step brother, who could potentially take that frustration out on you. you always did find possessiveness sexy.

“hey i’m not a snitch.” he adjusts his hands, one arm sliding beneath your stomach to hoist your ass up a little higher, the other hand coming to affectionately wrap around your throat. he presses a kiss to your jaw and his lips linger there as he stills inside you. “unless, like… you want me to tell him. in which case you’re naughtier than i gave you credit for.”

you groan, wriggling until he got the message and helped flip you on to your back. he didn’t let you off easy though, pinning your knees up onto your chest leaving you spread and exposed. instead of getting shy, you giggle, almost evil and doll-like which only approves his suspicions about you being quite the little nympho. “but we’re doing such a bad thing, jj.” you bat your eyelashes, faux innocent and he smirks at the audacity, licking the cut at the corner of his mouth.

“look, all i know is john b sent me over here to look after his little step-sister,” he explains as he lines himself back up with your needy hole and pushes back in, making your face twist in pleasure. “and that’s exactly,” he punctuates with a hard thrust that bounces you off the bed. “what— i’m— doing.”

ต( ິᵒ̴̶̷̤ ﻌ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ )ິ王女୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

[thefallennightmare]

The Coyotes Cry-Two

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: reverse harem/why chose in most parts of this story, violence, death, swearing, angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist, smut(very mature: P in V unprotected, masturbation, oral with male and female receiving, dry humping, knife play, blood play, period sex, Dom! Noah, mask play, choking, degradation, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, reverse harem which means one woman with multiple partners, sometimes together.)

Summary: Saoirse "Scar" McManus's life is turned upside down when her father and uncle marry her off to Noah Sebastian, the Ruler of The Concrete Jungle and Leader of OMNS, her old high school crush. A marriage based on secrets and lies comes back to destroy OMNS and The Concrete Jungle from within. When Scar has no choice but to step foot into the The Grey looking for help, she realizes the price of love comes in a nest full of darkness.

Authors Note: Well after four months, we FINALLY have an update! It is a very long one so buckle up. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning! This one probably wont be updated nearly as quick as JP will be. Maybe once JP is finished, I'll have more time to update this one!

*I do not own the rights/names of Connor and Murphy McManus. Or anyone mentioned to the Boondock Saints.

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SAOIRSE

Everything was so fucked. 

How was my life bartered for a way of peace without my consent? 

I understand it was something I had to do, for the family. But surely there had to be another way, right? 

Wrong, if there was you wouldn’t be standing next to Noah Sebastian in an elevator as he was about to show you your new home. Not to mention, sharing a bed with him. 

I nearly fell onto my ass when he told me that there was only one bedroom in his penthouse and we would be sharing a bed. I grumbled at my thoughts, crossing my arms over my chest; something Noah picked up on with a raised brow. 

“Everything alright?” 

“No,” I scoffed while facing him in the small elevator. “Everything is not alright. I have to get married to you without a choice, I have to share a bed with you, and not to mention, you just told me I have to work in your tattoo shop. In a matter of minutes, my entire life changed!” 

My screechy voice echoed in the small confines of the elevator and Noah leaned against the back wall with a smirk on his face. 

“You think this is funny?” I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest. “My free will is gone and you’re laughing.” 

Suddenly, his face sobered as he stood tall, with dark eyes staring down at me through even darker tendrils of hair. 

“Let me make one thing clear, Scar. You have free will. You can come and go as you please but need to return. Just because we’re going to be married that doesn't mean you’re signing your life away.” 

I blinked, mouth agape. “Scar?” 

“I like it,” Noah shrugged as if he really didn’t see the problem with shortening my name. 

“And if I don’t like it?” I still had my arms crossed but now I had my left hip popped out, showcasing the attitude I’ve had since birth. 

Something flashed in his eyes just as the elevator doors behind me opened. 

“Too bad, it stays,” he muttered before grabbing my bags and walking past me. 

Turning slowly on my heels, I noticed that the elevator opened to a vast darkness, Noah’s footsteps echoing. I didn’t move, not even when he turned on the bright lights showcasing his large penthouse. 

Our large penthouse, I corrected myself. 

Slowly stepping off the elevator, I peered around my new surroundings. Currently, I was standing in the foyer, and to my left was a long hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms. To my right was a wall that had two large bookcases built into it. I quickly made a mental note to browse Noah’s large collection and then took a few tentative steps into the open space before me. 

It was an open concept of a kitchen and living room combo. To the left was the kitchen and I sucked in a breath at the gorgeous design. Black cabinets with gold fixtures. A kitchen island in the middle big enough to fit two Thanksgiving dinner spreads. I noticed that he didn’t have a dining room table, only eight stools that lined the kitchen island. 

The living room was simple with a large forest green sectional couch, a fireplace, and a large television above it. Although it was still nicely decorated with fine things, there was still an empty feeling that crept over my bones. 

“I find it hard to believe that this huge place only has one bedroom,” I said with my hands on my hips. 

Noah, who was leaning his lower half onto the back of the couch with his arms over his chest, gave me a sly smirk. 

“I never said there was only one bedroom.” 

I stared at him with wide eyes. “So then why do I have to share a bed with you?” 

He pushed himself up so he could look down at me. “There are three rooms. Besides our bedroom, one is my office, and the other is locked up. No one goes in there.” 

“Are you hiding dead bodies in there?” I teased with a raised brow. 

“No, that's what the room underneath the shop is for,” Noah deadpanned. 

My lips parted, mimicking a fish, as the words died on my tongue. I knew given his line of work that Noah undoubtedly killed people. The rumors around town told me. I did my best to not be involved in my father's and uncle's nefarious dealings, but every so often my uncle would bring me in during one of their meetings, much to my father's dismay. My uncle thought I needed to know the inner workings of the Irish mob since I would take over one day. While my father didn’t want that for me. He wanted me to stay in the family home and continue to turn a blind eye to everything. 

In the meetings I was brought in on, many of the men who worked under the McManus twins would tell them everything they knew about OMNS; which wasn’t a lot. Noah had done a fantastic job of keeping his dealings quiet, that was until recently when his friend Vincent showed up on his doorstep dead. After that, Noah made it his mission to find out who killed him by kidnapping my family's level drug dealers for information. None gave anything up until recently when Barry somehow managed to get OMNS a meeting with my family. If it wasn’t for that kid, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

I never fucking liked that kid. 

Every time Noah’s name was brought up in those meetings, my stomach would flutter and my heart would hammer hard in my chest; exactly like in high school. From the moment my eyes landed on him freshman year, I knew that would sink his teeth in. We never ran in the same circles but when they did cross, I was rudely reminded by my mother of the reason why during graduation when she caught me staring at Noah from across the gym.

“Saorsie, stop ogling that boy. The Sebastian men are only trouble, he will hurt you the first chance he gets.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t ogling him, mom.” 

She grasped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “I’m serious, stay away from Noah Sebastian. You’re too good for him, he would only lower your stature.” 

I took those words my mom said to heart because I knew Noah didn’t feel the same. The only time he ever looked at me was with distaste because of our family's long-standing history. The McManus and Sebastian rivalry would be told in the history books one day but now it seemed as if the rivalry had ended with or upcoming unions. 

To keep the peace. 

“So the wedding.” 

My eyes snapped up from admiring Noah’s long legs. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I figured you’d want to plan it since you didn’t get a say in the groom,” he jeered while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

“Honestly, I’d be fine going to the courthouse and signing the needed paperwork. Get this over with,” I admitted. 

This made Noah’s usual stone face falter, his eyes softening. “If that’s what you want, Scar. I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Clearing my throat, I stood up straighter after grabbing my bags. “Can you show me to our room? I’d like to unpack and go to sleep. It’s been a long day.” 

“Yeah-,” Noah’s words were cut off by his phone ringing which he pulled out of his pants pocket. 

His brows furrowed at the caller's I.D and when I peaked down at it, my heart dropped into my stomach. 

“Who’s Lana?” I asked, my voice thick with jealousy. 

His eyes flicked up from underneath his long lashes, a foxy smile playing on his lips. 

Those lips that I’d been craving to taste ever since freshman year. 

“She’s my assistant,” Noah informed. 

“Does your assistant always text you this late?” 

He brushed a loose strand of my fiery red hair behind my ear and chuckled. “Nothing is going on between Lana and I. She’s dating one of the artists in my shop. She was letting me know that my morning meeting was canceled.” 

My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and I suddenly threw a thumb over my shoulder. “I think I’m going to get my stuff unpacked and head to bed.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you-.” 

Suddenly the elevator to his penthouse made a loud ding before the doors opened, revealing a man I didn’t recognize.

Noah, who was still towering over me, snapped his head up and his shoulders fell. 

“Jesse? What’s going on?” 

The man, Jesse, brushed back the curls from his face and sighed. “We need you at Limits. There’s a problem.” 

My eyes bounced between the two men. “Limits?” 

Noah ran a hand over the few hairs that peppered his jawline. “My nightclub.” 

“I didn’t know you owned a nightclub,” I said. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Scar,” he shrugged with an indifferent look in his eyes before glancing back to Jesse. “Can you handle it? It’s why I made you the manager so you can deal with these kinds of things when I’m not there.” 

Jesse hesitated for a long beat, his gaze flicking to me before settling on Noah. “You know I usually do, Noah. But there’s someone that is refusing to leave unless they talk to you.” 

“Have Ash force them out,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes shut. 

“It’s Vincent’s sister. She wants an update.” 

His body went rigid, hands dropping to his sides, and I felt my heart drop slightly at that name.

Vincent. 

Noah’s friend who was murdered. 

“You should go,” I spoke softly after a few long moments of silence.

Eventually, Noah nodded and he caught the jacket Jesse threw him mid-air, slipping it over his thick shoulders. 

“I won’t be long, I promise,” he assured me. 

Suddenly, all of the anger I felt about my situation faded, knowing that there was someone somewhere else dealing with something worse; a murdered brother with no answers. 

“I’ll be fine,” I gave him a small nod.

“Bedroom is the last door on the left. Make yourself at home.” 

Noah and Jesse were gone in a flash, leaving me alone in the quiet penthouse. It was an eerie silence, the one that made your ears ring, and I let out a long steady breath. Even though this was my home now, it didn’t feel like it. Everything here felt like Noah, which wasn’t a bad thing. His scent lingered in the air and it brought a faint smile on my lips. 

Snap out of it, Scarlett! Noah doesn't think of you that way. 

My brain practically screamed at me and with a shake of my head, I gathered up my bags to find the last door on the left. My eyes darted into the open door of Noah’s office and briefly could see a large black desk, a computer set up that seemed to fit a gamer, and red neon lights. 

I came to a halt in front of the closed door and curiosity peaked in my mind so I tried the door knob. 

Locked. 

“What the hell are you hiding, Noah,” I muttered to myself before finally reaching the last door on the left. 

Now there was resistance filling my veins, making me unable to cross the threshold into the bedroom. While I was interested in seeing how Noah had decorated the bedroom, I was nervous because it would mean that everything was about to become real. 

The second I stepped into that room and unpacked my things, this marriage was going to happen. 

Before I could make my final decision on whether to run or stay, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

Noah Sebastian: Hi, it’s Noah. I wanted to let you know that I cleared out some space in the closet and the bathroom for your things. I mean it when I said make yourself at home, Scar. What’s mine is yours.

I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips while I replied. 

Me: I know it’s you, Noah. I’ve had your number saved since high school.

Before I could pocket my phone, a new text came through. 

Noah Sebastian: You had it saved? I thought for sure my number would have been blocked. 

Me: Tell me what’s in the locked room and I won’t consider blocking your number. 

Noah Sebastian: Not a chance, Scar.

Rolling my eyes, I pocketed my phone and gathered up all my courage with a deep breath before walking into the large bedroom. 

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Who needs this much space for one person?” 

The king size bed was directly in the middle of the room, up against a wall painted black. On either side of the bed were end tables, each with their own lamp. There were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle and now, with the late evening,  it casted the room in a glow of moonlight. 

There was a fireplace and what I thought was a picture above turned out to be one of those televisions that you were able to use like a picture frame. It was of some abstract colors, nothing that seemed to make sense to the human eye. 

The hardwood floors creaked as I walked farther into the bedroom, noticing that there were clear walls where the fireplace was, showing the bathroom on the other side. I could see straight into the shower and bathtub from my spot in the bedroom. 

On the other end of the room was a little sitting corner, made up of a long leather couch and two chairs. 

The walk in closet was behind the couch and when I stepped inside, I let out a choked gasp. 

“This closet is bigger than my bedroom at home,” I shook my head in disbelief. 

Noah was true to his word. 

There was more than half of the closet space empty, his clothes and shoes only taking up a small section of the closet. 

With a sigh, I went about unpacking all of my things, spending a few hours arranging my clothes by types of shirts and pants. Shoes by heels or flats. Jewelry by necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 

Rings. 

Glancing down at my bare left hand, I tried to envision how it would look with a wedding ring and I couldn’t help but shudder. Everything was happening so fast and I didn’t even get the chance to let the news settle in yet that this whole arrangement was made without my consent. 

Carrying my bag full of toiletries over to the even larger bathroom, I made a mental note to take a very long soak in the deep jacuzzi bathtub as I went about putting everything in its place. There were two sinks and with Noah already taking over the one on the left, I chose the one on the right. 

As I was about to leave the bathroom, I caught sight of Noah’s cologne and pursed my lips. 

Sauvage by Dior. 

After spraying a quick spritz on my sweater, I went back into the closet to put away my suitcases. There was a small area in the far back that took a few finessing to make them fit but it caused something to fall off of a shelf next to me. 

Miracle High School. 2013-2014.

It was Noah’s highschool yearbook. 

“I haven’t seen one of these in so long,” I said while kneeling on the floor of the closet, opening the book in my lap. 

Familiar faces stared back at me as I slowly flipped through it but came to a stop at one picture. 

Me. 

I was with my old group of friends, most of whom I didn’t talk to anymore, and the smile on my face was so fake. I thought I was happy back then, the facade I put on tricked even me. But after I graduated, I realized how much of a liar I had been. I had to put on this show of the privileged rich girl to appease my mother when in fact, I hated who I was. I despised being in the popular group and desperately wanted to hang out with the artsy kids because that's where I felt my heart deserved to be. 

Just as I was about to flip the page, something else caught my eye; a written note next to my picture. 

One look at your eyes and I cave in. One taste of the life now I crave it. So give me something beautiful. So give me something else. I need another miracle. I really need some help, I need a miracle.

I frowned, feeling my heart sink to the depths of my stomach, and looked for the picture on the next page. 

Noah Sebastian. 

Back in highschool, his hair was longer, down to the middle of his back. He did have tattoos, not as many as he did now, but the snake and apple tattoo on his neck poked out from the collar of his shirt. It was customary that all seniors took professional pictures for their yearbook photos but that wasn’t who Noah was. 

His senior picture was one of him sitting in a computer chair with a gaming headset on and those adorable gold round glasses while throwing up the peace sign; showcasing those hand tattoos I spent countless hours staring at during our history class together. 

Slowly closing the book, I set it back in its place on the highest self before leaving the closet. With a quick glance at my phone, I noticed it was nearing nine in the evening and even though I was exhausted, my stomach growling reminded me that I skipped dinner earlier.

Once back in the large kitchen, I found the remote for the television and turned it on. I had to flip through the channels until finally landing on The Crow and then went about searching the cabinets and fridge for food. 

“Does this man not eat?” I groaned when I saw how bare everything was. 

Me: You have nothing to eat in this big ass penthouse. 

I expected Noah not to text back right away, figuring he was busy dealing with what was happening over at Limits, so when my phone buzzed a few seconds after I sent the message, my heart fluttered. 

Noah Sebastian: What are you in the mood for? Indian? Italian? Greek? 

You. 

Shaking the thought from my head, I typed out my reply. 

Me: I’ll just run out and pick something up. 

Before I could even lock my phone, Noah’s response appeared on screen. 

Noah Sebastian: The Concrete Jungle is not safe at night. Please stay inside. I’ll order whatever you want. My treat.

Pursing my lips, I glanced up to the window, seeing the tall buildings outside, and thought about it for a moment. The Concrete Jungle was Noah’s domain, he created it. But if he said it was dangerous in the dark, I had to believe him.

Me: Greek. One gyro. Hold the veggies. Extra feta cheese and tzatziki sauce. 

Me: Large fries and a Dr. Pepper. 

Me: We also can’t live off of fast food every day. How can I cook something with one cracked egg, baking soda, and stale ass bread?

While I waited for his reply, I decided to snoop around the penthouse. Off of the kitchen was his laundry room and for a moment, I thought about switching his loads but decided that I should leave it. A guy like him had someone come clean and do his laundry. Just as I was about to take a shower, my phone went off from its spot on the bathroom counter. 

Noah Sebastian: I’ve made more with less. But we can go shopping tomorrow, you can get whatever you like.

I thought about replying with a witty remark but knowing that he was probably dealing with something deep at Limits, I decided against it. 

Me: You’re going to regret saying that. 

Noah Sebastian: So far, when it comes to you I haven’t regretted anything. 

My heart jumped in my throat as I read those words a few times over and with a sigh, I locked my phone. I didn’t bother asking him when he would get back because I had a feeling whatever was happening, it wasn’t something that was considered a quick chat. 

By the time I was dressed in my pajamas, there was a loud buzzing coming  from the elevator of the penthouse. For some reason, there was a fear that filled me from being here alone and not knowing who was slowly rising up the elevator. 

Me: Were you expecting company? I think someone rang the buzzer for the elevator. 

My bare feet padded down the long hallway and once I stood in front of the elevator, my heart began to beat wildly. I wasn’t exactly dressed for company, wearing a pair of white cotton shorts and a loose tank top. 

Noah Sebastian: It’s your food, Scar. 

Oh. 

Me: Oh, right.

I wasn’t sure why I was so on edge about the possibility of someone coming into Noah’s penthouse without me knowing. Maybe it was because no one knew about our arrangement so it could have been a late night fuck buddy? Maybe it was because Noah was one of the most feared mafia bosses and ruled the Concrete Jungle so someone was coming to get their revenge. 

Noah Sebastian: No one can come upstairs without the code. The delivery driver left your food with Gary, the doorman. He’s been working at OMNS Legacy Villas for years and he’s the only one with the code. You can trust him. 

I snorted at that word; trust. There were only two people in my life I could trust and they sold me off for a peace treaty. 

Me: Trust isn’t a word that’s in my vocabulary. 

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a paper bag in the middle of it. With a quick swipe, the scent of Greek food tickled my nostrils and my stomach grumbled to life. I spread everything out on the large kitchen island and went about eating in silence while watching the movie. It wasn’t until I noticed the time on the large clock on the far end of the wall that it was almost eleven in the evening and without a new text from Noah, I thought about texting him but figured I’d be bothering him. 

Once I cleaned up my mess from dinner, I stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle. Bright lights bathed over the dirty streets, littered with not only trash but crime as well. On the far end of the corner, I watched as a drug deal went down followed by an attempt at a carjacking. With the angle of how high up the penthouse was, I could see down to Under The Right Lights Tattoo; closed up for the night.

“How did I go from studying animal biology to working in a tattoo shop?” I grumbled to myself while pushing off of the windows. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Whirling around, I saw Noah standing in the middle of the living room with his hair a disheveled mess and blood splatter over his shirt. I blinked rapidly, trying to assess the situation in front of me. 

“I-,” I pointed to the elevator. “I didn't hear you come up.”

Noah had his hands hiding in the pockets of his black dress slacks and I couldn’t help but picture how they were covered in blood. 

“I took the back staircase,” he shrugged before gliding over to the kitchen and popping a few of my leftover fries in his mouth. 

I shifted on my feet, watching how unbothered he was. 

“You have a back staircase?” 

Noah’s eyes flashed to me. “We have a back staircase for times like this. I can’t exactly walk through the lobby looking like this.” 

“Right,” I pursed my lips while nodding. 

A weird silence fell between us, I was unsure what to do or say, so instead I continued to stand there watching him as he watched me with his nostrils flaring. 

“Why do I smell my cologne?”

With a red hue covering my pale skin tone, I cleared my throat. “How did it go at Limits? Get everything sorted out?” 

Something flashed in the darkness of his eyes as they flicked over my body. “Are you unpacked?” 

“No, we’re not doing that,” I said while stepping closer to the kitchen island so I could stand across from him. 

It created a barrier between us. 

“Do what?” Noah asked while leaning his long arms over the edge of it. 

I did my best not to gawk at his muscles as they rippled and the way the tattoos just seemed to fit him. 

“If we’re going to be married, you’re not going to hide anything from me. I grew up in this life, Noah. You don’t need to keep me away from it.”

A sly smile spread to his lips. “We are getting married, Scar. There’s no if.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not asking to be a leader next to you but all I want is honesty.” 

Those almond eyes watched me for another long beat before he gave a curt nod. 

“Tonight went south; fast.” 

I pulled out a stool to take a seat, resting my elbows on the counter. “Were you able to give Vincent’s sister any answers?” 

“No,” Noah pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “When I told her the only information I have is that someone in the Irish mafia killed him, she wouldn’t listen. She’s insistent that it’s the Italians.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

I leaned back into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest which made my breasts perk up over the top of my shirt; something Noah tracked intently with his eyes. 

“The Italians haven't stepped foot in your or my territory in almost a decade. They know it would start a war,” I explained. 

“You seem to know a lot,” he raised a brow, still standing across from me. 

“While my father did his best to keep me out of it, my uncle constantly brought me into meetings. He wanted me to take over when they’re gone,” I said. 

“Well, Vincent’s sister surprised all of us when she told us she had some Italian tied up in her trunk,” Noah grabbed water from the fridge, popping it open with an attractive ease. 

My eyes doubled. “How did she manage that?” 

“No fucking idea. This guy had no ties to the mob, nothing. So I had to pay him a lot of money to keep quiet,” Noah said with a grimace on his face. 

“Where did the blood come from?” I pointed to his shirt. 

That earned a slight chuckle from him. “Fucker had a nose bleed when I tried to scare him off. All over my good shirt.”

Noah’s words prompted him to slip into the laundry room off the kitchen and return with a basket full of his clothes. As he spread them out on the large counter, I watched in surprise when he began folding them. 

“Is it the housekeepers' day off tomorrow?” I joked. 

“No housekeeper. I do all the cleaning and cooking,” he informed me.

Well don’t I feel like a judgemental asshole.  

Drumming my fingers along the marble, I motioned to the bedroom. “I’m going to head to bed, since we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” 

Noah paused the folding so he could gaze up at me through his long lashes. 

“Noon at the courthouse. Are you fine with going out to Limits for a small celebration? The guys were adamant on it.” 

I shrugged while hopping off the stool. “That’s fine, I guess. Gives me a reason to get all dolled up. 

“I’m going to finish up the laundry then go into the shower. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Noah smiled. 

My heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of it so all I did was nod before retreating down the long hallway towards the bedroom. 

Even though it was a comfortable bed, I found it hard to sink into the black sheets because of the new place. Any time I slept away from home, it was a restless night. My brain couldn’t calm down and tell myself that I was safe. So I lay there with the forest green blanket pulled to my chin and eyes screwed shut hoping it would help the sleep take me. 

Noah’s quiet footsteps echoed on the hardwood as he stalked inside of the bedroom. I watched as he disappeared into the closet and reemerged with a pair of pajama pants. The confidence that radiated off of him as he stepped inside the bathroom was one that made anyone envious. Due to the window that peered into the bathroom, I could see Noah beginning to strip out of his clothes, oh so slowly as if he knew I was watching him. He didn’t bother to turn on the bathroom light, the moonlight breaking through the windows casting him in an aura made for the Gods. 

I sucked in a breath when he stepped into the large shower, his large back and perk ass on display for my eyes to drink in. The large Jesus portrait tattoo that lined the entirety of his back glistened as the water droplets fell down to the swell of his ass. 

“A Thiarna cuidigh liom,” I groaned while dragging a hand down my face. 

I was supposed to be upset with this arrangement and I probably would have been if my future groom wasn’t built the way Noah Sebastian was. 

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve had a huge crush on him since freshman year. 

Grumbling at the voice in my head, I forced myself to face the other way in bed in an attempt to get some sleep. While floating in and out of consciousness, I swore I heard the softest melody emanating from the walls of the bedroom. It wrapped around me like a blanket, cradling me with endless comfort, and I felt every worry slip through my fingertips. The weight shifted slightly to pull me in closer but did nothing to disturb the comfort.

NOAH

My knee bounced with so much agitation, I feared it shook the entire penthouse. I sat in my computer chair with my fingers steepeled underneath my chin, memories of earlier replaying in my mind on a constant fucking loop. 

The slight hesitation in the ballpoint of the pen before she signed her name on the marriage certificate. 

I knew Scarlett wasn’t too fond of this arrangement but there was a part of me that wasn’t expecting the hesitation, especially after last night. 

“Scar?” I asked, just above a whisper. 

Her sleeping form held the pillow close to her chest but I frowned, not getting into bed yet. She was asleep in my spot. I chewed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not to wake her because I slept in that spot every single night for the last eight years of living in this penthouse. 

But standing there at the end of my bed, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath and the soft snores emanating from her plump lips made everything I’d formally known change. 

I slipped into bed behind her with every intention of lying opposite of her but almost immediately, her hand found my bicep in a soft embrace and I vowed not to move at all that night. It was a simple touch but enough to make my heart race. 

It was foolish to think that it meant something. Scarlett didn’t feel the same, she’d made it clear that she was here against her will. The first chance she had, she would take it to run off with someone more qualified for her love. It didn’t matter for me to try because I’d never been worthy of Saiorse Scarlett McManus. 

Saiorse Scarlett McManus-Sebastian.

I glanced down to my left hand, the black band a sight I was still getting used to. I wore rings all the time, just never on that finger. While she had been getting ready for tonight, I had Matt run to the best jewelry store in the Concrete Jungle to pick up the sets of rings I had put a rush order on. My ring wasn’t anything special, and to be honest neither was Scar’s. Due to the short time frame, I had to make due with what I could. A simple gold band with a small marquise diamond.  I knew it wasn’t her style but for now, until I could get her something better later on, this would be fine. 

The small velvet box weighed heavy in the pocket of my pants and I knew if I didn’t give it to her soon, it would burn a hole. 

A soft knock at my office door pulled me from my thoughts and when I peered over the computer at who stood in the doorway, my heart felt heavy in my chest. Scar stood there with her hands behind her back, almost shy as I drank in her appearance. 

Her red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing the sharpness of her cheekbones. 

Her make up was minimal but dark enough to make her green iris shine bright. 

The dress she wore managed to hug her figure perfectly. It was a deep olive color that stood out against the paleness of her freckles skin and cut low enough at her breasts that it didn’t leave too much to the imagination but somehow covered her modestly. My gaze traveled up the slit on the dress where her toned legs poked through. 

“Noah?” 

I snapped my eyes up to her face, a low hum rumbling in my chest. “Yea?” 

“Is this alright?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I frowned. 

Scar shrugged and in that moment, I could tell by the pain she held behind her smile that she was struggling with something internally. 

“It’s stupid,” she sighed, ready to leave the room until I grabbed her hand. 

“Hey,” my voice was soft. “Nothing you say is stupid, alright?” 

Those emerald eyes bounced between mine. “With Cory, he didn’t like me wearing things like this.”

The ex. 

“You can wear whatever you’re comfortable with,” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, electricity shooting through my system before reluctantly dropping it. 

Scar cleared her throat before rubbing her palms on the side of her silk dress and motioning to me. “Ready to go?” 

I peered down to my black pants and plain black shirt, suddenly self conscious I wasn’t dressed up enough for her. 

“I can change if it’s not-.” 

“No!” She said quickly before catching herself. “You look good.” 

A sly smirk came to my lips and with this sudden surge of confidence I pulled out the velvet box from my pocket and heard Scar suck in a breath. The prior nerves were back and I couldn’t stop the way my hands shook as I opened it. 

“It’s not much,” I sighed. “Given I had less than twenty four hours to get you a ring, this was the best I could do.”

Scar didn’t say anything as her bright eyes watched me slip the ring on her left hand. 

It may have been small but it fit her like a glove. 

“It’s fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a quick smile. “I’m not into gaudy and unnecessarily huge rings.” 

We stood there in the ever growing silence of my office, the roaring flames from the fireplace the only thing that eased my worries. The orange hues of the fire casted Scar in a golden halo, the sight of the angel in front of me enough to still my heart. 

Angel. 

“An-.” 

“Noah!” 

Both mine and Scar’s head snapped over to the hallway right outside the door to my office, seeing Matt standing there. 

“Everything alright?” I asked, knowing the panicked look in his eyes. 

They shifted to Scar’s where they lingered for a moment too long. 

“Matt,” I called his name softly but with enough force; a warning. 

“Sorry,” he shifted on his feet. “There’s an issue downstairs in the shop. A client that won’t leave.”

My shoulders fell with an exaggerated groan. “Can’t you handle it? 

He rolled his eyes, almost insulted that I doubted his ability. “You know I have no problem with that but they’re not here for us.” 

My brow peaked. “Then who are they here for?” 

Matt’s eyes darted to Scar who pointed at herself, dumbfounded. “Me?” 

“It’s your dad and Uncle. They’re here with some asshat named Cory, who is the one refusing to leave.”

The all too familiar feeling of anger and jealousy festered low in my gut at hearing not only where her father and uncle downstairs in my shop, but so was the asshole ex. 

“What are they doing here?” I asked her, trying hard to keep my voice calm. 

She shrugged. “I have no idea! I talked to my dad earlier and told him that the papers were signed. He said congratulations and he’ll send a gift at some point.” 

Rubbing a hand on my jaw, I gave a curt nod urging Matt to lead the way. The heels of Sacr’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed behind me. The ride down the elevator was quiet, filled with my deep and even breathing. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed a few things. 

Matt’s eyes darted over to Scar, lingering on the side of her face. 

Scar played with the new ring on her finger while she muttered something to herself. Something plagued her mind, it was clear in the way her shoulders were slumped and something continued to twitch in her cheek. 

“Did you want me to handle him?” I asked once the elevator stopped at my shop. 

Her head tilted up to me, my question lingering in her mind. I found myself getting lost in the greens of her eyes, swimming in the pool of the gold specks in them. 

“No. It’s probably better I do,” she sighed. 

When the elevator doors opened revealing the closed tattoo shop, I extended an arm to let her walk ahead. We walked down the back hallway, passing my office, the gym, and bathrooms before the sight of all of the closed down booths appeared. On the other side of the front counter stood the McManus brothers and Cory, who was red in the face due to screaming about something. 

“She was mine!” 

“Calm down, son,” Conner McManus lit a cigarette, puffing out the smoke. 

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said with a stern tone. 

His dark eyes snapped over to me before tossing down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

“Cory, what are you doing here?” Scar asked after her father left a soft kiss to the side of her head in greeting. 

“Your dad told me you’re married?” 

I took a deep breath, trying to let Scar handle this on her own, but both Matt and I flanked behind her; just in case. 

The McManus brothers shared a look before Conner threw a thumb over his shoulder. “He showed up at our place drunk rambling about wanting to see Saorise so we brought him here. He’s your problem now.” 

“Congratulations on your nuptials. Let’s hope for a time of peace,” Murphy reminded, giving a small smile to his daughter. 

With a nod, I dismissed them from my shop and soon it was Cory alone with the three of us. 

“I told you I was to be married off,” Scar’s brows furrowed. “I called you earlier this week to tell you and your exact words were,"What do you want me to do about it?””

Cory chuckled darkly. “I thought you were fucking with me to get back at me for Tory.”

She flinched. “Tory? What does Tory have to do with anything?”

Cory held a bottle of vodka loosely between his fingers before bringing it to his lips, downing the rest of it in one go. 

“Because I fucked her,” he replied while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

I took a large step towards him, not being able to hold back my anger any longer, but Scar’s soft gasp halted me. 

“Yo-You what?” 

Cory snorted when he took in the look of hurt on her face. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious. Just a good fuck, something to pass the time while you were in school.”

My hands shook at my sides, something Matt noticed because he rested a hand on my shoulder. 

“She wants to handle it,” he uttered in my ear, reminding me. 

I snapped my eyes over to him but it did nothing to deter the hand on my shoulder. The gun in the holster of my pants began to get heavy. I kept a hard gaze over Scar’s head, directly at Cory, who seemed unphased by the scene he was beginning to create. 

“You fucked Tory?” 

Scar’s voice and face were unreadable which caused me great panic. I wasn’t sure how she would react or if this news even bothered her. I knew they didn’t date long and according to my intel it didn’t seem to mean much. But even so, finding out you’ve been cheated on during your relationship hurts. 

Cory snickered at the distressed look on Scar’s face. “You have no right to act like this, Saorise. You married another man.” 

Her eyes flicked over to me but mine never left his face, watching him through the thin slits. 

“I didn’t have a choice! My father and Uncle made me. If I did have a choice, I would have moved far away from here years ago,” she sneered. 

My heart sank low and my shoulders fell slightly when I gazed down at her. Deep down, I knew she still wasn’t happy about our situation but to hear her continue repeating it cut deep. It was like I was in highschool all over again, fawning over the popular girl who didn’t bat an eye. 

“I was going to marry you, Saorise. I had a ring picked out,” the bottle slipped from Cory’s fingers and clattered to the ground at our feet; the leftover alcohol splashing on my shoes. 

I grumbled in displeasure. 

“Was that before or after you fucked Tory?” Scar took a step towards him. 

“Scar,” I warned.

“Scar? What the fuck kind of name is that? Her name is Saoirse,” Cory laid a hand on my shoulder, trying to push me. 

Ultimately failing as I barely moved. My veins were filled with hurt from her constant reminders that she didn’t want to be married to me but now, I was filled with sheer anger.

“We call her Scar,” I informed him through gritted teeth. 

Cory rolled his eyes. “You guys are all fucked up. I’ve heard the rumors about OMNS. You think you can keep Saoirse safe from that?”

Matt took a large step toward him but was halted with my hand to his chest, both of us sharing a look; one that we’ve shared many times before. 

“Take Scar upstairs,” my voice was low and even. 

Some would say it even scared them. 

Matt gave a curt nod and gently grabbed her elbow but she ripped it from his grasp, those green eyes shooting daggers into me. 

“Excuse me? What happened to me handling it?” 

I ignored her, letting my stubborn side win, and motioned towards Cory all while keeping my hands in my pockets. “You can leave through the same door you stepped through.” 

“Fuck you!” He spat, now pushing me in my chest with both hands, causing me to stumble slightly. “Saoirse is mine! You can’t just fucking take her because you signed some bullshit paper agreement with her father.” 

My left brow raised. “Last time I checked, a marriage certificate isn’t a bull shit paper agreement.”

“Noah!” Scar stepped in front of me, blocking my path to Cory. “I told you I can handle this myself.” 

“Then why is he still here? Did you invite him?” I asked, eyes flicking down to her and doing my best to keep my composure.

“Fuck off!” She stomped her foot, showing how angry she was getting. 

I had to admit, it was kind of cute seeing her bratty side come out.

“You said it yourself you won’t dictate what I do in this marriage. I am my own person.” 

The way she said marriage caused something to stir low in my gut and I knew it wasn’t anything good. That all too familiar feeling of my hands shaking in my pockets and my heart beat wildly in my chest usually ended in one way. 

Death. 

Matt knew this. He’d been by my side since the early days and he’d seen first hand what happened to the people that were on the receiving end of it. 

“Alright, time to go,” Matt said before picking up Scar, tossing her over his shoulder. 

“You mother fucker! Put me down!” She thrashed in his arm, her no match for his strength. 

As her screams faded down the hall towards the elevator, I looked over my shoulder to call back to them. 

“Keep it up, Scar. Matt has permission to smack that pretty little ass.” 

They stood in the middle of the elevator, her still thrashing about on his shoulder, so Matt gave a wicked smirk with a wink just before the doors shut. 

“It’s not even worth it, man. Her holes aren’t even that fuckable.” 

My eye snapped back to Cory, who was slightly swaying on his feet, and now one hand rested behind my back to graze over the handle of my gun. My voice wavered only slightly, going undetected by the drunk man in front of me. 

“What did you just say?” 

He hiccuped, the vodka now settling in his bloodstream. “Her cunt isn’t that great. She just lies there like a board. You’re better off fucking a pillow.” 

I swallowed thickly with a finger now on the trigger. All I could see was red. 

Blood. 

His blood staining the floor of the underground and hearing his pleas of sorrow as I dragged the knife across the flabby flesh of his throat. 

“You should have come to me to talk about marrying her!” He poked a weak finger to my chest. “She’s mine.” 

I blinked for a long moment, letting out an even longer deep breath in the exact exercises my therapist taught me. I couldn’t do anything up here due to the cameras I had littered throughout so instead, I cleared my throat while extending a hand behind me. 

“We’ll, why don’t we step into my office to work out a deal,” I suggested with a playful smirk. 

Cory smiled with triumph and straightened out his polo. “The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

The knife hidden in my sock itched with the need to slice flesh.

SAOIRSE

“You mother fucker!” I pounded on Matt’s broad back as we rode the elevator back up to the penthouse. 

“Try all you want, Saoirse. But did you forget Noah’s warning?” He teased me. 

My face was directly in sight with his round ass and with a playful smirk, I pinched it, causing him to yelp out and dropping me to my feet. 

“Did you just pinch my ass?” He asked dumbfounded while rubbing the spot I pinched. 

I shrugged. “It was right in front of my face. I can't help it if you've got a nice ass.” 

His face flinched, not expecting my boldness. “Noah definitely has his hands full with you.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave him my back to finish the ride up in silence. I could feel him behind me, eyes burning over my entire body, and my tough resolve began to slowly slip away. The day had gone straight to hell the second I woke up and found myself wrapped in Noah’s warm embrace. I spent an excruciating long moment tracing over the tattoos on his chest with my eyes, burning them into memory. 

Ever since I watched him in the shower last night, I felt this undeniable burn between my legs that needed to be touched, licked, bite, and fucked. Not even the moment in the shower this afternoon while Noah was running a few errands before our courthouse appointment extinguished this burn. 

When I cried out his name as my orgasm engulfed me, it made the flames burn higher. 

“You seem on edge,” Matt’s deep voice pulled me from thoughts of Noah naked. 

“I wonder why,” I grumbled under my breath. 

He chuckled, the sound bringing an ease to the tension around us. 

“Noah will be fine,” he assured me. 

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I admitted while stepping off the elevator when it opened to the penthouse. 

Turning on my heels, I noticed Matt still standing in the elevator, unmoving. 

“Are you not going to come inside and watch me?” I teased. 

His eyes raked over me from underneath his hat, a sly smirk playing on his lips. 

“Tempting. But I’ve got other things to do.”

I didn’t have time to think of what that other thing was before the doors shut, leaving me alone in the large penthouse. I continued to grumble obscenities under my breath as I stalked towards the bedroom, ready to change into a pair of sweats and spending the rest of this awful day on the couch reading a book. 

And not think of your husband’s ass in the shower. 

Groaning at the little voice in my head, I threw on a pair of sweats, not bothering to take my makeup off, and dragged my feet down the long hallway again to the large bookshelves that were right next to the elevator. Noah had a large collection, might as well help myself to one or two.

Black fingernails skimmed over the spines of the large collection, humming a soft tune to myself, until one caught my eye. 

A New World.

When I went to pull it out, excited to read my favorite book, it wouldn’t budge. Instead, the bookshelf began to creak and groan before slowly opening into the wall. 

“No fucking way,” I scoffed. “He would have a secret door that leads to a dark staircase.”

I thought about it for a moment; go down the stairs to see where it led or play dumb to the fact that I ever saw it. But suddenly, something from yesterday popped in my brain. 

“I took the back staircase.”

Noah made it a point to say that he takes this staircase when he’s unable to walk through the lobby of the penthouse. Meaning wherever his staircase led, it was meant to be hidden. 

“Fuck it,” I muttered with a shrug before taking the stairs, one step at a time. 

It was lit with a muted yellow glow so I had a hand on the wall to guide me in case I were to tumble down. With each tentative step, voices grew closer and closer until I heard what sounded like flesh on flesh and then pained cries. 

When my footsteps halted at the bottom of the staircase, I felt my heart jump into my throat and stomach fall out of my ass with the sight in front of me. 

“What the fuck!” 

NOAH

“Wait please!”

Ignoring the pathetic cries falling from Cory’s mouth, I sunk the knife deeper into the already gaping wound in his thigh, twisting and turning it in all different directions. The sound of blood squelching brought a sinister smile to my face as I watched the sheer pain on his face. Tendrils of my dark hair fell into my eyes but I didn’t dare brush them away. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming into my shop and talking about my wife that way,” I said. 

Cory did his best to thrash in the chair he was tied up in but ultimately failed. “Fuck you!” 

I cocked my head to the side, still having a tight grip on the knife in his thigh. I felt a presence behind me as I was crouched at the knees, knowing Matt was also watching with his own sinister smirk. I’d done a number on Cory already, his face barely recognizable from the blood that covered it and not only did he have a wound in his thigh, his arms and chest were littered with small yet painful slices from my blade. 

“I’m done with him,” I said while slowly rising to full height, aged knees popping in and out of place. 

Matt handed me a small handgun from one of my large collections and when I cocked it, Cory’s eyes went white as a ghost. 

“Wait!” He choked on his own blood. “I have information!” 

The grip on my gun never faltered but I did raise a brow at him. “What could you possibly know that would interest me?” 

Deep, uneven breaths fell from Cory’s lips and I knew that I only had a short window with him before he succumbed to the wounds; more importantly, the one on his side. Matt made a comment of how deep I went with the knife but all I saw was red, Cory’s comments from earlier urging the knife deeper. 

“The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

“Its-,” he coughed up blood, spewing it all over himself and at the ground near my shoes. “About Saoirse’s mom. Her death.”

That made my gun falter a bit but I kept my tough resolve apparent. “Her mom died years ago. Why do you think I would spare your life when it was already a solved case?”

Underneath the blood that pooled from Corey’s mouth was a sinister smirk as he leaned his head back. 

“That’s what they want you to think.” 

Matt, who had slowly slipped behind Cory, and I shared a look before he asked the next question. 

“Who’s they?” Matt wondered. 

Cory did his best to shrug due to being tied up. “The ones who did it.”

I let out an agitated groan before dropping the gun onto the metal table next to me, the noise caused Cory to jump. It had been an extremely long day and the last thing I wanted to do was stand here while he ran us in circles with this so-called information. There were many things I would much rather be doing. 

My wife. 

Shaking the thought from my head, I stalked over towards the far end of the underground to where I held all of my variety of tools; immediately reaching for the pair of rusty pliers. 

Twirling the tool in my hands, I noticed a look of fear flash in Cory’s eyes just before I flicked my own towards Matt, giving him a silent order. He wrenched Cory’s head back by the roots of his hair, keeping him in place, gloved fingers smearing his own blood all throughout. 

It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to start wearing gloves during these kinds of meetings. Not only for the fear of leaving fingerprints behind but because blood was a bitch to wash off. 

“Cory,” I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “I’m getting really fucking tired of your voice.” 

He blinked, trying to fight against Matt’s grip on him. “Wh-what are you going to do?” 

I sinisterly looked at the old pliers in my hand and shivered with delight. “I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

Screams of pain echoed loudly in the underground, but never making past the concrete walls, as I yanked his tongue out of his mouth. Cory writhed in the chair as his words were muffled as I nearly clipped the pliers with his tongue. 

“One last question,” I said without an ounce of waver in my voice. “Does Vincent’s death have anything to do with Mrs. McManus’ death?”

The pupils of Cory’s eyes bled black and even with both mine and Matt’s grip on him, I felt the softest of nods. Something inside of me burned low with the revelation that my best friend was possibly killed by the same person that killed Scar’s mom. 

“This is for everything you said about my wife.” 

With the pliers clamped around Cory’s tongue, I ripped it with such force, blood spattered across my shirt, down to my shoes. His cries sounded like pure bliss to my ears as I let the limp muscle and pliers clatter to the dirty ground at my feet. 

Matt pushed himself away from Cory, wiping his hands on the back of his sweats, before tossing me a rag. 

“You got some blood on your face,” he pointed to his cheek. 

With a disgusted groan, I wiped the blood away and ripped away the destroyed shirt now. It would have to join the burn pile. As I discarded my gloves into the same pile, I continued to ignore the mess of a man in front of me. Blood pooled down Cory’s chin and over his bare chest. But the satisfaction I thought I would feel after causing him this much pain was non-existent. I wanted him to suffer for everything he said about Scar but mostly the fact he had the nerve to cheat on her. 

Matt immediately noticed the look in my eyes, having seen it one too many times before. 

“Noah, let’s end this. It’s not like he’s physically able to tell us anything else,” he suggested. 

I scratched at the tattoos on my chest absentmindedly, doing my best to calm the beast inside of me. I was alway calm with dealings like this, the more level headed one of our group. But Cory’s words about my wife continued to tease me and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Rage consumed me as I laid fist after fist into Cory’s flesh; anywhere I could. 

His stomach. 

His chest. 

His face, over and over again. 

It was as if the rage had blinded my vision, making the only thing I could see was pure darkness. His muffled groans and the sound of flesh on flesh was muted by the pounding of my heart in my ears. 

“What the fuck!”

Chest heaving, I whirled around on my heels to see Scar standing on the far end of the room where the hidden staircase led. The soft features of her face were contorted with agony as she took in the sight in front of her.

Cory’s near lifeless body at my feet, still tied to the chair. 

Matt sat on the metal table, dangling his legs in the air, as he browsed something on his phone. 

And me, standing above the mess I created with blood on my hands; literally. Scar’s lips were parted, the softest off breaths falling from them, and her pupils were dilated with sheer fear. 

No. 

Not fear.

Arousal. 

“Cory!” Scar bellowed before taking a step towards him, causing me to block her path. 

“Now you care for him?” I sneered, wiping his blood over my chest. 

“N-no,” she stammered while shifting on her feet. “I just-. I didn’t expect to see this when I came down here!” 

Matt snorted from his spot on the table. “What did you expect to see, Scar? Us having a picnic?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck off, Matthew.” 

“It’s Matt,” I corrected. “You need to go back upstairs.” 

Now her fury was directed towards me and she poked a nail into my bare chest, doing her best not to gawk at the tattoos and blood. 

Ultimately failing. 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Noah!” She poked me again. “You brought me into this fucked up world, the least you can do is let me see it!”

I cocked my head to the side, slowly licking my lips, and took a tentative step towards her. The chill of the underground brought goosebumps to my skin but the reminder of how her finger felt poking my skin bathed me in warmth. 

“Does this turn you on, Scar?” I teased with a low voice. 

There was a slight hesitation before she scoffed, locking her hands on her hips. “No!”

Her voice was high pitched, almost scratchy, and it was something I remembered from highschool she would do this exact thing when she was lying. I raised a finger to her, twirling a piece of auburn hair around it. 

“Admit it, Scar. Even you’ve thought about it. Dragging your knife across someone’s flesh. Their screams of despair and pain bring a sense of comfort, maybe even arousal,” I breathed into the crook of her neck. 

She swallowed thickly and I tracked the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth, desperately wanting to know how they tasted. 

“You’re sick!” her eyes snapped up towards mine. 

I grinned, dark tendrils of hair falling into my even darker eyes. “If I’m so sick, then how come your hand is reaching for my belt?” 

Scar cursed when she realized her fingers were brushing against the buckle of my belt and hurriedly jumped away from me. Her eyes darted back to the scene behind me, lingering on the slowly dying body at my feet. 

“Did you rip out his tongue?!” She gasped, covering her mouth. 

I kicked the limp muscle on the other side of the room carelessly. “Bastard kept talking about you. I needed to teach him a lesson.”

Matt slipped off of the table and reached for one of the smaller pocket knives we had hanging on the wall behind him. Twirling it between his fingers, he nodded towards Scar. 

“Do you want to finish him off? A little payback for him cheating on you?” 

For the briefest of moments, she thought about it with the way her gaze lingered on the sharp blade before falling down to Cory, who had passed out from the pain. Scar was facing an internal battle inside of her between what was right and wrong. Well, what she thought was wrong. Nothing I did in the undergrounds of the Concrete Jungle was wrong. I did it to protect what I’ve created here and to protect the ones I love. 

“What do you say? Or are you too much of a pussy to get the job done?” I taunted, hands buried deep into the pockets of my dress slacks.

Scar’s lips recoiled as she violently shook her head. “If I would have known you were like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage!” 

My heart sank to the depths of my stomach but I continued to hold my demeanor, not allowing her to know how her words continued to affect me. 

“Fine,” I shrugged with a sigh. “You have two choices. Stay here and watch or go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Wait for you? For what?” She blinked. 

Not uttering a word, I turned on my heels back towards Cory and kicked his abdomen, waking him from his slumber. Words were muffled as he tried to fight against the binds, weakly due to the blood loss, so Matt bent at the knees next to him.

“We’ll make it quick,” he shook the knife in front of Cory’s face, whose eyes flared with fear. 

I didn’t have to see if Scar went upstairs, I could feel her presence behind me as she stalked closer. The ghost brush of a hand on my lower back made my spine stiffen and when I glanced over my shoulder, I raised a brow at her. 

“Curious cat, eh?” 

“Fuck off, Sebastain!” She pushed away from me and I could hear her footsteps amcking against the concrete as she ran up the hidden staircase. 

“Did you want the honors, boss?” Matt’s voice caused me to turn my head back towards him. 

“He’s all yours,” I said, the urge to hurt him not present. “Have Ash help you clean up. But once you’re finished, do me a favor and look into what he was rambling on about earlier.”

Matt gave a quick two finger salute. My heart was no longer in this game of torture and mutilation. It was vying for the woman upstairs and wanting to make things right with her. The usual sick thrill I got from watching a kill meant nothing as I followed Scar’s footsteps. 

SAOIRSE

I lay in bed with my back turned towards the door, trying my darndest to erase the image of Cory on the flood from my brain. While I never loved him, it still struck something inside of me to see him so broken on death's door. Yet, the way Noah looked towered over him, shirtless and the blue lights of the underground emanating him in neon glows now made something burn inside. My pussy ached as I remembered how the blood looked smeared across Noah’s tattooed chest and for the quickest of moments, I wanted to lick it off of him. 

“You’re so fucked up!” I groaned while pressing my palms into my eyes, hoping to rub away the vision from my mind. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Snapping my eyes open, I saw Noah leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, thick arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a dream with the setting sun's rays blasting through the large windows and casting him in a peachy glow. His belt and button were undone, showcasing the hard V line of his hips as his pants hung low, and I found myself staring at the few dark hairs that peaked out from the waistband of his briefs. 

“If you want it, Scar. All you need to do is ask,” Noah teased while pushing himself off the door frame and stalked into the bedroom. 

Rolling my eyes, I sat up in bed and pulled my knees to my chest as I watched him walk towards the bathroom. 

“Did you kill him?” 

My words made Noah pause, the muscles in his back flexing, but he didn’t look towards me. “Will you cry if I tell you the truth?”

“I don’t love him. Never had. But that doesn't mean he deserved to die, Noah!” 

Now he whirled around on his feet, dark eyes staring daggers into me. 

“He cheated on you, Scar! Bragged about how the only good hole you had was your mouth. Claimed you would lie there stiff as a board,” Noah ran a hand through his hair. 

I pulled my lips in a tight light after I was about to say something but when he took a large step towards me, I realized he wasn't done yet.

“Did you really think I would let him get away with talking about you like that? My wife. In my shop?!” 

His eyes were wild as he loomed over me in the bed and my stomach flipped at his words. 

My wife. 

“I-,” my voice faltered, unsure what to say. 

Noah’s nostrils flared, his anger radiating off of him in droves, and he leaned farther over me causing my body to fall to the bed. Tattooed arms locked me in on both sides of my head and I felt his scorching breath fanning over my lips. We were so close that if I titled my head up just a tad, I would finally be able to figure out what he tasted like; a thought that had been plaguing my mind since highschool. 

“Let’s make one thing clear here. You’re mine, angel. Anyone who disrespects you will pay a price, regardless of who they are,” Noah pressed his hips against mine. 

I sucked in a breath when his cock brushed along my pussy, over the silk fabric of my pajama shorts. I’d change once I came back upstairs, ready for the day to be over, not caring it was just before six in the evening. My hands shook at my sides, unsure what to do with them, so Noah grabbed them and pinned both of them above my head; both wrists fitting in one of his hands. 

“Wh-what did you call me?” I choked out, suddenly realizing what he said. 

His nose brushed along my jawline, breathing me in. 

“Angel,” Noah almost purred. 

I swallowed thickly, doing my best to keep my strong hold against him even though it was faltering with every brush of his cock against me. He was slowly dry humping me and I was giving back to him with even strokes. There was still dried blood across the tattoos on his chest, painting them in crimson, and I could still smell the lingering copper scent. 

“What if I don’t like it?” I panted, nearly gone in bliss. 

He groaned while grazing his teeth along my jugular. “Too bad because it stays. Angel.”

With one of his hands still keeping mine locked about my head, his other slipped underneath my nightshirt to graze over my blazed skin. We were like a couple of horny teenagers that found their first moment alone with each other with how frenzied our movements were against each other. My orgasm was building slowly, the familiar tingling sensation in the base of my spine. It was so close, I could taste it on the tip of my tongue and I wanted nothing more than to scream out his name as I came undone underneath hNoah. 

“How wet are you, angel?” He flicked his tongue against my earlobe. “I bet you're soaked just from this.”

I nodded, too far gone now to try and fight against him. I needed this release more than oxygen and it was almost as if Noah understood because his hand slipped between us to tease my folds over my shorts. 

“I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly. “How bad do you want my cock, Scar?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to give away how bad I actually wanted or how I’ve wanted it since freshman year. Instead I raised my hips up towards his hands, a silent beg falling from my lips. 

“Use your words,” Noah demanded before smacking my pussy. 

“Shit!” I cried out. “Fuck you.”

He wrapped one of my legs around his back so he could press his clothed cock over my core at a different angle and it was everything I needed for the coil to snap. 

“Oh god,” my body convulsed underneath Noah as I let my orgasm overcome all of my senses. 

White hazy stars danced at the edges of my vision. 

I could taste the blood from Noah’s chest as I lapped at it, unknowingly. 

All the noises around me seemed to fade away. The only thing I could hear was Noah’s grunts as he continued to dry fuck me. 

At some point he let go of my hands and my nails scratched at the large Jesus portrait against Noah’s back, working myself through the aftershocks. 

The scent of his cologne hung along the edge of my nose as I breathed him in. 

“That’s such a good girl, Scar. You sound so pretty when you cum,” Noah praised while dragging his teeth along the side of my neck. 

My jaw fell slack when I finally came down from my high and Noah began rising the hem of my shirt up over my stomach. 

“You can lie all you want, Scar. But what you saw downstairs turned you on,” he flicked his eyes up at me from his new position over my belly. 

“You’re crazy,” I breathed, letting my eyes flutter shut. 

“For you-.”

“Am I interrupting something?” 

My head snapped over towards the doorway where I saw one of his men leaning against the same spot Noah had been minutes prior. I vaguely recognized him as one of the members of OMNS; his long hair down past his shoulders and the cross earring hanging from his ear. The accent immediately told me who it was. I tried to scurry away from Noah, only for him to hold onto my hips with a vice grip, him sitting up against the back of his calves. 

“Need something Joakim?” Noah made no effort to fix his pants or briefs as they were askew. I didn’t miss the agitation in his voice. 

Joakim's eyes lingered at us for a moment before he motioned towards me. “Her fathers estate has been calling the lobby of the apartments. Apparently, her uncle wants to have her over for dinner tonight to celebrate the nuptials.” 

Both Noah and I shared a look, knowing that it couldn’t be true because we saw my dad and uncle a few hours ago and neither of them made it known they wanted dinner tonight. Plus, if they did, they would call my cell phone, not the lobby. 

Smacking his leg, Noah reluctantly rolled off of me allowing me to sit up and fix my hair and hopefully cool down my heated cheeks. I wasn’t sure how long Joakim had been watching us but from the sly smirk on his lips, I had a feeling it was before my orgasm.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Scar,” Noah sat on the edge of the bed, hair a disheveled mess and pants still unbuttoned. 

While I expected to see his cock thick and hard, it nearly shocked me to see a faint wet spot staining the gray briefs; not from my arousal. 

“I’ll be fine. Maybe it was a last minute dinner he wanted to set up. I’m sure he’s curious about the Cory situation,” I said. 

Noah’s brows peaked. “What are you going to tell him?” 

I shrugged. “It was handled. They don’t need to know the details.” 

“Let me come with you. Since it is a dinner to celebrate us,” he spoke while rising from the bed, however Joakim shook his head. 

“You’re needed at the M.I.N.D Clinic. Something happened with one of our extended guests.” 

Noah sighed with even more agitation than before and pinched his eyes shut. “Fine. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you in the living room in ten minutes.”

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm before he could retreat into the bathroom. “The M.I.N.D Clinic is real?”

“Yes,” his lips pulled down at my surprise. “It’s been a running establishment for the last three years. How have you not known about it?” 

I shrugged. “There were rumors in my neighborhood about what you do in the Concrete Jungle but none of us knew for sure. The M.I.N.D Clinic allows you to go through your memories, right? Relieve them?” 

Noah nodded but then his eyes widened when he realized what I was getting at and firmly shook his head. “Absolutely not, Scar. It can be a dangerous place there. We’ve had a resident with us for the last 118 days because he’s trying to remember his wife who is currently on her deathbed. The M.I.N.D program, while it is one I’ve programmed myself, still has its flaws. If you find yourself too deep, you won’t be able to pull yourself out.”

“But-!”

“No, Saoirse. Do not ask again,” Noah snapped, using my first name to let me know he meant what he said.

Holding up my hands, I nodded. “Fine. I’m going to change and head to my dad’s. I’ll be back later.” 

“Take Joakim with you,” Noah said as I walked away from him. “I’ll bring Nicholas with me.” 

Joakim nodded towards him but gave me a playful wink as I walked past him towards the walk in closet. “No offense, Joakim. But I can take care of myself. It’s just a dinner, no need for protection.”

Waving off Noah’s protests, I closed myself inside of the closet to get ready. 

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering to get dressed up for this last minute dinner, and drove down the familiar but darkened roads back to my fathers estate. I tried calling him once I got in the car to confirm but got his voicemail after three rings. Even though I knew it was nothing, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart beat increased the closer I got, something not sitting well with me. I couldn’t even enjoy the earlier thought of me coming apart for Noah without the fear of what I was about to walk into looming. 

How could I allow myself to let Noah take that part of me? I had told myself over and over again before moving in that I would not fold that fast for him, yet there I was begging for his cock like a horny teeneager. 

I mean, you were horny. You did love what you saw in the underground. 

Grumbling at my thoughts, I took the familiar turn around the bend, my old neighborhood less than a mile away. Yet I was blinded when a pair of bright headlights came barreling towards me. 

“Shit!” I cursed before wrenching the steering wheel to the side, causing my car to skid close to the edge. 

Right in perfect sight of the car that t boned into me. All I could remember was the sound of metal on metal and glass breaking before being plunged into darkness.

JOAKIM

“Did she make it?” I asked Noah who had stepped inside of his office at the M.I.N.D Clinic. 

While he was busy tending to the resident and his wife, I’d been sitting at his desk, looking over the numbers in the books. We had made a decent increase in revenue the last six months, along with a lot of our other businesses. We no longer had to worry about where money was coming from to cover the expenses of the underground, yet it was still nice to be aware of where the money was going. 

Noah shook his head and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his black jacket. His black turtle neck had been pulled up high, covering the snake tattoo on his neck. 

“She didn’t make it. He claims he kept having visions of her dying over and over again while he was under,” Noah fell into the chair across from the desk with a deep sigh. 

“What happens now?” I wondered while leaning farther back into my own chair. 

“He paid out for 150 days, he’s going to honor the rest of his contract. To be honest, I don’t think we’d be able to make him leave,” he ran a hand through his locks, brushing them away from his face. 

We sat in silence for a moment until his deep voice reverberated in the air. 

“How much of that did you see? Back at the penthouse?” 

I gazed away from the computer screen to see a faint redness creeping along Noah’s defined cheekbones and snickered. 

“Enough to know why Scar has been on your mind since highschool,” I clicked off the program before shutting down the computer. 

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t expect to fall into her so quickly, Jolly. She has this way of pulling me in and I’m so afraid that I’ll fall even harder than the last time when she realizes I’m not what she wants.” 

I kicked my feet up on the desk, ignoring the way Noah glared at the action. 

“She doesn't have a choice, Noah. As long as both sides want to keep the peace and stop a war from breaking out, she has to remain married to you.” 

I could tell my words did nothing to ease the anxiety in his mind so I continued. “Plus from what I saw and heard, she’s into you more than you think.”

Noah’s lips parted to speak but was interrupted by the constant shrill of his phone ringing and he dug it out of his pants pocket. 

“It’s Scar,” he muttered before answering. “Hey, did you make it-.”

It was silent for an eerily amount of time and with the way his face changed from neutral to fear to pure anger made me sit straight up in the chair now. 

“Where are you?” Noah made a simple motion with his hand, one I understood, and quickly I made my way over to the other end of the office, yanking one of the books off of the book shelf. 

The shelf next to me creaked open from the middle, showcasing a large array of different kinds of weapons. After I grabbed one of the handguns, making sure it was loaded, I grabbed one of Noah’s favorites and tossed it to him. He caught it without even looking, still on the phone with Scar. 

“It’s alright, angel. Joakim and I can be there in ten minutes. Have you called the cops?” 

Angel? 

Cops?

What the fuck was going on?

“Don’t. I’ll call the guys to meet you there. Folio can get there in five with his bike. Just stay out of sight, alright?” Noah said while grabbing another gun, giving me a sideways glance. 

You can never be too safe. 

Once he hung up, he worked out a text message, no doubt to our group chat, and then slipped on his leather gloves. 

“Is she alright?” I asked as we made our way through the hidden door of the office that led to the back alley. 

“I don’t know,” he spat out through gritted teeth. 

Neither of us said a word as we slipped inside of the sleek black car, Noah speeding off before I even buckled my seat belt.

SAOIRSE

The sound of metal scraping along the concrete was loud in my ears as I stood frozen, gazing at the sight in front of me. In an instant, everything changed and I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if I didn't make it out. 

If I was at the bottom of the ocean with what was left of the crumpled piece of metal. The face behind the mask was the last thing I saw before swerving my car out of the way and tumbling over the edge. 

I let out a choked sob as the tears finally fell from my eyes and I didn't bother to wipe them away. Fear etched its way deep into my bones and my body shook uncontrollably. Until a faint shadow in the darkness appeared through the fog and the fear stilled, only for a moment. 

"I-I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, cradling my arms to my chest, hoping to hide the injuries from him. "I didn't know who else to call."

Noah stepped out of the thick fog and immediately cradled my face, eyes scanning for every visible injury he could see. 

“Are you alright, angel?” 

The tenderness in his voice did nothing to ease away the pain weighing my body down. I shook my head, tears still falling. 

“I should have called someone else. I know you’re busy and you wanted me to be with a guard but I didn’t want to be a bother,” I rambled on. 

Noah’s thumb grazed over a deep wound on my cheek, gathering up the blood. “You always call me, Scar. Always.”

I blinked through the tears but eventually nodded. 

“The car came out of nowhere! The only thing I could see was a masked person driving before it crashed into me,” I sobbed but then pointed a shaking finger towards the cliff edge twenty feet from us. “My car hung on the ledge for a few minutes and I climbed my way out, barely making it out before it fell into the water.”

Noah’s grip on my face tightened before he pulled me into his chest, large hands leaving soothing circles against my back as I cried. 

“It’s alright, angel. I’ve got you. You’re alright,” he cooed. 

“Everything hurts. I think my arm is broken,” I continued to sob. “I should go to a hospital.” 

“No,” he pulled away from me slightly so he could glance down at me through the darkness, only illuminated by the lights from his car. “Hospitals will ask questions. I’ve got a doctor on call that will meet us back at the penthouse to look at that arm and stitch up your wounds.” 

Suddenly exhausted from the aftermath of the crash, I numbly nodded before collapsing into his arms. Noah cursed before picking me up bridal style to carry me over to Nicholas’ SUV. He arrived seconds after Noah did. 

“How is she?” Nicholas wondered while Noah laid me down in the back seat. 

“We need to get her back to the penthouse, now. Have the doctor meet you guys there. I’m going to see what I can find,” Noah ordered. 

I reached for his hand, keeping him from leaving. He stood in the open doorway of the car and peered down at me with concern in his almond eyes. 

“Please don’t leave,” my voice shook. 

While I did grow up in the mob life, I never was exposed to it in this kind of magnitude. There wasn’t a doubt in any of our minds that this whole night had been a hit on me or Noah. But we weren't sure who had set it up. 

His clenched jaw eased before letting out a tender breath. “I need to figure out what happened. I won’t be long.” 

“Folio is already looking,” I explained while slowly sitting up, grimacing at the pain that shot through me. 

Just then, Folio popped up behind Noah, a cigar hanging loosely from his lips. 

“What did you find out?” He whirled around, fanning out the smoke. 

“The driver,” Folio adjusted his leather cut off. “Put up a nasty fight at first, damn near scratched my eyes out.” 

At the mention of the scuffle, I did notice three red marks down the side of his face and over the Jesus tattoo on the side of his neck. 

“So is he dead or alive?” Noah asked, aggravated. 

I could tell in the way his shoulders tensed underneath his jacket that he was ready to take care of this by himself. 

Folio smirked before pulling the cigar from his mouth. “She is alive. Got her in the trunk of your car.”

Very quickly, Noah barked out orders to all of his men before they all piled into their respective cars. He motioned for me to lay down again, resting my head in his lap as Nicholas drove us away from the scene. I could hear the rumble of Folio’s bike next to us while Joakim and Matt rode in Noah’s car that had the culprit tied up in the trunk. I knew that there were other cars behind us but I couldn’t care at that moment because Noah’s fingers worked through the blood matted knots of my hair. 

“We’ll get you cleaned up and looked at. I’m going to have a conversation with this driver,” he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the car in front of him. 

“I want to be the one to do it.” 

Noah’s eyes fell down to mine, heavy with exhaustion, but I forced them open. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

It nearly took me off guard that he didn’t argue with me but I recovered quickly. 

“She nearly killed me, Noah,” I squeezed his knee, adjusting myself so I could take a small nap. “I’m going to find out why.”

SAOIRSE

I stood in front of the woman who lay slumped in front of me, her words replaying in my mind over and over again. None of it could be true. There was no way; not possible. 

We all arrived to the penthouse about an hour ago and while Noah brought me upstairs to get checked out and cleaned up, the rest of OMNS were busy dealing with her. I had a broken arm that was currently being held up by a sling and a wound on my forehead that needed to be stitched up, covered with a bandage. Besides those and a few bumps and bruises, I would live; much to the dismay of the woman at my feet. 

It wasn't easy for me to shower by myself but I made due, not wanting Noah’s help. Even with our moment earlier this evening in bed, I wasn’t ready for him to see me naked yet. 

The doctor prescribed me some meds for the pain but I declined, never liking the idea of pain meds after seeing my friends in high school abuse their parents. I’d gladly suffer for a few weeks rather than get addicted. As soon as I was dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top, I had Noah help me back into the sling before both of us took the hidden staircase down to the underground where my prey sat waiting for me. 

Nicholas and Folio had already roughed her up a bit for me and I couldn’t ignore the way it brought a giddy smile to my face seeing the woman a bloody mess. When she saw both Noah and I descended the stairs, pure ice cold fear filled her pupils and began rambling off nonsense. 

Nonsense about my mother. 

Once we arrived, Noah dismissed Nicholas and Folio, leaving just us three alone. 

"Pl-please," she blabbered while spitting out blood. "You have to believe me! I saw it!" 

“That’s not possible. She’s been dead for years. You saw her doppelganger or some shit,” I sneered while kicking her in her face, watching her rear back against the chilled concrete floor. 

Thankfully I remembered to slip on my black boots before coming down here. 

“I know what I saw! She was seen with Vincent!” The woman continued to spew bullshit. 

According to Nicholas, he found out some details about this woman. She worked for the Italians and was set out to veer my car off of the road because they were upset that the deal for my hand in marriage was made with Noah and not one of their prospective sons. 

As if I would ever get in bed with the Italians. 

“You’re saying whatever you can think of to prolong you walking out of here alive,” I rolled my eyes before reaching for the knife that Noah had laid out prior to us coming down here. 

I told him that I wanted to be the one to integrate her, he could hang back and watch in case things got out of hand. But before we came down here, he showed me how to properly use a knife. 

“Keep a light grip on the handle but firm with the blade against their skin,” he breathed against the back of my neck as he stood behind me in our bedroom. 

He held the blade against the sensitive skin of my neck and I held my breath, not due to fear but arousal. The scene also had an effect on him because I could feel Noah’s cock against the swell of my ass. 

“It’s all true! Two weeks before Vincent showed up on OMNS doorstep, I saw him with your mother! At some sleazy German bar, they wanted to meet on neutral ground to discuss something.” 

I paused twirling the knife in my hand and watched as the woman rose to her knees, holding out her hands. 

“Discuss what?” I questioned, absitmindly playing with my wedding ring. 

I couldn’t believe that it was still the same day that Noah and I signed the marriage certificate. It felt like days ago. 

The woman hesitated before wiping the blood away from her broken nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t exactly know.” 

Sighing, I yanked her head back by her hair, exposing her neck to the neon lights adorning the ceiling. I had no plans on killing her, that wasn’t me. Yet again, this whole torturing of a victim wasn’t me either, but given the circumstances I allowed myself this. 

But realizing I could only hold her head back with my good arm, unable to hold the knife against her throat, I groaned before pushing her down the ground again. 

My eyes snapped over to Noah leaning against the concrete wall, the bottom half of his face covered in the black mask. Dark tendrils of hair fell into his face but his hands were covered in blood so he refused to push them away. 

“I’m suddenly bored. There’s no need to question you any longer. Have fun with her, Noah. I’m going to bed,” I grumbled, slamming the knife on the table as I walked past him, who still hadn’t uttered a word or moved a muscle. 

“Noah looked into your mothers death! He sent Matt to find out more information,” the woman called after me, halting my footsteps. “It’s all over the Concrete Jungle that your mother was seen with Vincent. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift. 

My head snapped over to Noah, ignoring the suddenly sinister laugh falling from the woman's mouth. 

"Is it true?" I asked him, venom in my voice. 

All he did was blink once but that was answer enough. 

Yes.

I scoffed. “Were you planning on telling me?” 

One blink. 

Yes. 

I pointed to the woman. “Does she have anything to do with my mother?”

This time, Noah didn’t blink which again told me his answer. 

He didn’t know.

The woman watched the interaction between Noah and I, shaking her head wildly. "You can't believe him! He's lying!" 

I cocked my head at her with narrowed eyes. There was a large and warm presence behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, Noah was now standing behind me; physically and metaphorically. 

"Noah's my husband. He has no reason to,” I said. 

The woman's face was covered in blood, her right eye swollen shut but I wasn’t sure if it was from our beatings or from the car accident she caused. But I could see the briefest hint of fear in them when my fingers grazed over the handle of the gun Noah extended towards me. 

"No, you're not like him. Please!” She begged while wrapping her arms around my hips, holding onto me. 

The part of me that didn’t like the dark side of the mob life called to me, overpowering the thrill of seeing her weep at my feet and gently, I removed her grasp around me. 

“I’m done,” I spoke flatly, pushing her away from me. 

Mentally, I was exhausted from the everlasting day and was ready to call it a night when dark laughter pulled me back to the pathetic excuse of a woman. 

“Your mother was right. You never could hack it in this business. I’m shocked your father signed you over to Noah Sebastian. He needs someone that can get their hands dirty. Maybe he’d be better off with me-.” 

It all happened so quickly, barely having time to actually register what happened until it was too late. Me scurrying back over towards Noah, who still held the gun outstretched and my finger on the trigger, firing off two rounds directly into the woman's skull; right between the eyes.

The ringing in my ear due to the gunshot was deafening as I stood there motionless, unable to process any coherent thought or word. It wasn’t until I felt callused fingers around my wrist, pulling my attention away from the dead body at my feet and to the dark eyes of Matt, filled with concern. 

“Let’s get you upstairs, Scar,” he gingerly led me back towards the hidden staircase, too far gone in a state of shock to realize Noah had begun cleaning up my mess.

NOAH

“Scar?” I called out into the dark penthouse. 

After I finished cleaning up the mess in the underground thanks to help from Ash and Bryan, I made my way upstairs to check on Scar. Matt had taken her upstairs over an hour ago but I hadn’t heard how she was doing. It’s never easy, your first kill, so I knew the feeling of disgust and dread she had to have been feeling. 

As I walked down the long hallway towards our bedroom, ignoring the one room that always remained locked, I paused momentarily just past the doorway of the bedroom when I heard soft cries echoing from the shower. 

“Scar?” I called out again, this time with more fever as I ran into the bathroom, the sight stalling my heart. 

She was curled up in a ball, still in her clothes and sling, soaked to the bone as she cried out. There was a frigid chill in the air, indicating she’d run through all of the hot water, but that didn’t stop me from kicking off my boots and stepping into the shower with her; clothes and all. 

“Noah!” She cried, immediately pulling me into her, burying her face in my soaked black shirt. 

“Shh,” I brushed my lips across her forehead, the bandage covering her stitches barely hanging on. “I’ve got you.” 

“Am I?” Scar choked out, fisting at the fabric. “Am I a monster now?” 

My heart shattered, pieces falling into the depths of my abdomen but I shook my head. Cupping her cheek, I forced her to look up at me, water droplets hanging onto her long lashes. 

“No, angel. You’re a fighter. You did what needed to be done,” I held her closer to me, allowing her to cry out the guilt and anguish she felt. 

She might have felt like a monster right now but I knew that she would evolve into something greater, far exceeding the expectations her family set against her. They were right when they thought she couldn’t run the McManus empire. Because she was made to run OMNS with me by her side. 

First things first, however, we needed to have a talk with Matt and figure out what he found out about her mother's death.

[pearlessance]

32:1 - Idle Threats [x]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel builds the heaven you've granted him.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap(32yrs), mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, themes of forgiveness

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

Blessed is he whose disobedience is forgiven.

Ellie stays at the farmhouse for the first couple of weeks and Joel’s grateful for it. The two of you get along so well that he can even hear you both laughing in the front yard from the bedrooms upstairs. And Joel knows you need it; the laughter, the company, the distraction. 

Because every night, he holds you in the bed you’d taken from Jackson and lets you cry into his shoulder over your loss. 

Maria’s decided to let the both of you come and go from the commune as you please, but she refuses to say a single word to you. It’s her who gives the silent treatment, now. And although you’re aware the traumatic bond the two of you formed is better off severed, Joel knows it must hurt regardless.

“She was all I had for such a long time,” you whisper into his shoulder on the fourth night. “I know it’s for the best but I…I miss her is all.” 

Joel helps you through it as best as he can. He listens to you whenever you’re ready and willing to speak, and remains patient with you when you grow angry and lash out at him over small things that don’t truly matter. 

“It’s okay to miss her,” he says gently. “But I’ll never let her hurt you again. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, little girl.”

You and Ellie get the front porch fixed up and find a set of old, rickety rocking chairs in the attic in the barn. Ellie paints a meadow of lavender on the freshly painted white siding. She’s showing Joel all the small details, the stems that alternate between the colors of jade and emerald, telling him how she’d painted it first in blue to set the undertone when a familiar truck pulls up the long driveway with a trailer hitched to the back. 

Tommy is a welcome sight, in truth. Because the house needs a lot of work and his brother’s hands will cut the time in half. But, more importantly, his presence will cut Joel’s stress in half, too.

Still, he catches the way you look at the passenger side of the truck with hopeful eyes and watches your face fall when you notice it’s empty.

Tommy hugs you and Ellie and lets out a deep sigh when he wraps his arms around Joel’s shoulders and claps him on the back. “Good to see you, brother,” he says. And it is. “Brought y’all some things. Come take a look.”

The trailer is packed full and so is the back of his truck. You and Ellie tear into its contents, giggling all the while. Most of it came from the white house on the corner in Jackon, Joel knows. Most of it’s yours.

Not much work gets done on the first day. Joel and Tommy work on carrying in the heavier stuff; the weathered, handmade dresser, the round mahogany table with matching chairs, and the box full of kitchen utensils and towels. Joel’s most excited about the generator, though. They bring it out back and vow to hook it up first thing tomorrow morning.

The four of you split the two rabbits Joel caught in his snares and you and Ellie throw strands of pasta at the wall to ‘check if it’s cooked,’ but Joel thinks it’s just for your own amusement because the both of you laugh maniacally every time it sticks to the wallpaper.

You eat together and laugh together and for the first time, Joel feels warm. He feels whole. Complete.

After you and Ellie both go to bed, it’s just Joel and his little brother sitting at the table. Tommy stares hard at the glass of iced tea in his hands and says, “I know it’s, uh…I know it’s just a short drive, an’ Ellie’s got the guest room but is it cool if I crash on the couch for a while?”

It feels like old times. Feels like before. Joel knows there’s something left unsaid in Tommy’s words but thinks he might already know. It’s not his place to force the words out of him, though. So Joel just nods and says, “You’re always welcome to it. You know that.”

“Maria an’ I…we talked. She, uh…told me what happened. Told me the full truth. About what he…what he did to…”

“You see now, don’t you? Why I couldn't let it go on? Why I couldn’t let Maria look at her like that? She didn’t do anything wrong, Tommy. Compared to what we’ve done…she’s innocent.”

An innocent little girl who’s only ever harmed those who’ve harmed her first. Self-defense isn’t malice. It’s not rage or wrath. It’s a learned trait, a taught skill.

Tommy nods slowly and takes a sip from his glass. “I, uhm…need a place to crash for a few days. Some space.”

“Like I said, you’re always welcome here.”

When he crawls into bed that night, Joel holds you extra tightly. Because the moment he snakes his arms around your waist and you turn to face him, your eyes well up with tears as you say, “She’s only sending him with my stuff, Joel. She’s trying to erase me like I never mattered.”

He didn’t see it at first and is a little surprised to admit it. But hearing the words come from your mouth clears the fog in his brain because you’re right. Joel can see the subtle stroke of manipulation when he imagines that house in Jackson you lived in for so long, sitting empty. 

There’s nothing he can do but hold you and let you cry and promise it will be okay, so he does. He tells you he’s here with you, reminds you that you’re a person and not some mistake made on paper, reminds you you’re not erasable. But when your breath evens out and you fall asleep, Joel leaves the bed to open the window for some fresh air to soothe the anger that rises up in him. 

Still, even miles away, even after this big, impactful change of life, Maria has still managed to hurt you in a fresh way. Joel knows he can’t protect you from everything. Knows that being hurt is inevitable, but he wishes so badly that he could take it all on for you. Shoulder the burden to ease your strain.

He’s only just begun creating this life with you and already he begins to wonder if he’s failing. If he’s already failed.

Joel hears your bare feet pad across the creaky wooden floor seconds before he feels the palm of your hand against his spine. You slide your fingers gently beneath his t-shirt and the touch grounds him, brings him back, reminds him he’s doing what he can and that it’s enough. Reminds him that no matter where he goes or what he does, you’re with him. 

His.

You press your cheek to his shoulder and he turns to pull you in close. When you tilt your head back to look up at him, he knows what you’re asking for, knows what you want. He presses his mouth to yours and thinks you taste like sleep and sunshine and solace.

He finds his own sort of peace in your body, in the way you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper, in the way you press your lips to his shoulder to quiet your moans. He tells you he loves you while he’s deep inside you and knows without a single doubt that you’re the one salvation he’ll ever be allowed but knows, too, the sin of taking you has been worth it.

When he finally falls asleep, it’s to the rhythm of your heartbeat. He can feel the steady thump, thump, thump through your sternum that’s pressed up against his ribcage. The vibration of your mercy, your clemency, your forgiveness reaches down to his bones. 

Tommy stays for seventeen days. 

They finish repainting the siding, fix up the plumbing and electrical, patch the holes in the drywall, repair the gate in the back yard, build a water system connected to the river in the woods, and start cleaning out the barn in preparation for livestock. 

You and Ellie make a run to an abandoned hardware store for gardening tools and return with an entire stockpile of seeds and rakes and hand-sized tillers. The two of you are mapping out the size of the garden when Tommy says to Joel in the back of the barn, “Been a long time since I’ve seen that look on your face, man.”

He knows exactly what he means but asks anyway. “What look?”

Joel follows his brother’s gaze that lands on you. He watches, in complete awe of you, as you throw your arm around Ellie’s shoulders and smear the dirt on your forehead against her cheek. She’s laughing and trying to push you away and all Joel can do is smile, feeling himself settle, feeling roots growing from his feet into the very ground he stands on.

Tommy shrugs and uses his shovel to lift more stale hay into the wheelbarrow. “Since I’ve seen you happy.”

At first, the urge arises in him to argue with his brother on this. But then he realizes that Tommy’s right—because Joel has never felt anything like this before. Never changed his course so dramatically to make room for someone else in it.

Not since Sarah was born. Not since he met Ellie.

He swallows and says with his eyes focused on the rake in his hands, “I see so much of myself in her at times. Angry at the world, at what it’s become. She might not remember things like they were before but she’s had to go through hard lessons like we all do and it’s made her do cruel things. Violent, even. That’s not the only thing she is, though. Never been the only thing she is.”

Tommy stares at his brother for several seconds without saying a word. And then he confesses, “Never thought she was in the wrong about it, y’know. About Thomas. But I wasn’t…uh, I wasn’t there. When it all happened, you know. Can’t say much about somethin’ I didn’t know much about. But with what I do know now, I can’t say I’d do anythin’ different. If it were…I mean, if it were our Sarah. If it were Ellie, you know?”

The sound of her name feels less like a knife these days. He finds instead it feels good to hear it, feels like remembering, like healing. And though Tommy doesn’t say the words directly, he understands what his brother’s trying to say. Knows Tommy, too, would kill the man who tried to harm an innocent little girl.

Joel thinks about those men in the warehouse. Thinks about what he would do if it were you in your sister’s place and knows he would’ve killed Thomas even slower than you had. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Ellie returns to Jackson with Tommy a few days later. It’s a bittersweet moment, in truth. Because Joel knows she needs to do this, needs to get out on her own, become her own person now that she has someplace safe to do so. But he can’t deny the urge that rises up in him to ask her to stay.

He doesn’t, though. He lets her go, knowing she’s safe in Tommy’s hands, knowing she’s safe because Joel taught her to take care of herself. He has full faith in Ellie and he has full faith in the two of you.

There’s still a lot of work to be done. Seeds to plant, rooms to clean out, wiring to the generator, walls to paint and pictures to hang. The two of you settle into a routine.

Somehow, you’re always awake before Joel. And every morning he makes his way downstairs to find you sitting on the porch with a warm cup of tea in your hand and the sunlight casting shadows on your face. You always smile when you see him and stand to your feet to give him your chair. 

There are two of them, but only one ever gets truly used. You sit in Joel’s lap, and he holds you and the two of you talk about your plans for the day. You’ve been working tirelessly in the garden, hanging flowers and herbs to dry over the porch railing, making lists of canning supplies to pick up from Jackson or on your next run. Joel’s been repairing the barn, sawing down trees in the forest and rebuilding cracked beams to restabilize the structure.

On one morning in particular, you let him sip from your cup and say softly, “Thank you.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw and wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist. “For what, sweetheart?”

“This,” you reply. “For the home we’ve built. For…I don’t know. For you.”

“Me?” He doesn’t understand, but he tries to.

“Just for being who you are. For loving me still. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know that it’s ever been a choice for him. Joel thinks he’s loved you since the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, thinks it was always meant to be his fate to find you. “I always will,” he promises. And he means it.

When the barn is fixed Joel builds you a greenhouse. 

You’re more than happy to assist him when needed, and listen to him talk about this, that and the other. Once, without even realizing, he talks to you about how drywall is made and why it’s sometimes called gypsum board or sheetrock for an entire afternoon. You don’t complain, not even once, and he wonders why but then realizes he’d let you talk about anything under the sun for an entire afternoon, too. 

In June, Ellie and Tommy visit and they bring guests. In the back of the truck is Bonnie and her son Sam, as well as Greg, Mike who has a ziploc bag of coffee grounds,  and his wife, Stella, who carries a plate of strawberry scones. 

There’s also the addition of four lambs and six chickens. 

You greet and hug and thank everyone for coming but when you hug Ellie you let out this girlish giggle that brings him so much joy he thinks his chest may burst with it. The two of you bring the lambs and the chickens to the barn and Sam and Bonnie help you set out feed and fill a trough with water from the stream while Joel and Tommy start a bonfire in the backyard. 

Everyone gives the two of you updates on Jackson. They tell you about how Miley’s made a full recovery and Maria’s due within the next week. They tell you that Kelly and Abel are an item now and they like to flaunt it for all of Jackson to see, that the Tipsy Bison is getting an upgrade after Jesse had discovered a distillery on a run.

You and Joel both are showered in compliments about your new home. About the garden and the greenhouse and the barn. Mike and Joel talk for an hour about Joel’s newest project, inspecting the half-hollow body of an acoustic guitar.

Tommy and Greg leave the group for a short hunting trip and in the twenty minutes they’re gone manage to return with a deer. You roast venison over the bonfire and everyone eats standing with their plate balanced in one hand, talking and laughing.

Joel catches your eye in the cacophony, and for a moment you just stare at each other from across the yard with mirrored grins. You look so beautiful in your pretty sundress and bare feet. There’s a leaf suck in your hair and venison grease on your fingers and Joel fights the urge to kick everyone out early so he can lick you clean.

He loves you more than he’s loved anything in all his life, and it’s this precise moment where he thinks maybe there is no such thing as acceptance into heaven. Maybe the devil and his pretty, perfect Judas possessed enough love for one another to create it on their own with greasy, calloused hands and broken hearts. Maybe he’s been wrong this whole time and he’s never been cursed, never been punished for his sins. 

Because how can he stand here in this home he shares with you, surrounded by the people he loves, feeling the presence of those he’s lost in the wind, and say he’s cursed?

Joel Miller feels like the most blessed man on the face of the planet.

Just before dark, they all pile back into Tommy’s truck with full bellies and smiles on their faces. 

And the minute they’re down the long drive way and the lambs are safely in the barn, Joel’s hands are slipping beneath your dress. He squeezes the soft flesh of your thigh and you giggle into his mouth, kissing him deep, letting him invade your body, your mind, your soul. 

He lifts you into his arms with the intent to take you to bed but then you wrap your legs around his waist and rut your hips against him. Pretty, desperate little girl wants him just as bad and who is he to deny you?

Joel lays you down in the grass, pulls your panties to the side, and takes you right there beneath the summer sun. He pushes your legs up to your chest and holds your knees apart, watching himself disappear inside of you, encouraged by the sweet moans you make.

“Gonna take real good care of you, little girl,” he says, circling your clit with his thumb. And he means it now and forever. No more silent vows, no more internal battles—you’ve become everything. “Always gonna take care of you. Keep you real safe, baby. Make you feel real good.”

Your pussy constricts around him as your orgasm feathers through you and he follows you off the edge at the sound of the words I love you in your mouth.

When he pulls out of you, Joel uses his fingers and pushes his spend back inside. And even though he knows it’s impossible, for the first time in the last thirty years he wishes it would take. Wishes he could get you pregnant, wants to see you barefoot in the garden with a belly rounded with his baby.

But it’s impossible and he knows it. This is enough, though. The two of you and a couple of lambs.

Even though your thighs shake, Joel fucks you with his fingers until you’re writhing again before he helps you to your feet and heats up water for a bath to get you clean. 

Joel finishes constructing his guitar. He plays the chords to Stairway to Heaven from the backyard and can see you begin to sway in the kitchen through the screen door. He plays a little louder and swears he can hear you humming the lyrics and the elation hits him like a fucking freight train. 

Because when he’d first met you, you’d been callous and rude and brash. You’d lashed out at him and Maria and Tommy and anyone else who stood in your way. You’d bitten off every hand that tried to feed you because those that tried had never tried again after feeling the sharpness of your teeth. 

But Joel had. He tried a hundred times and still kept coming back for more.

And now you stand in the kitchen you built together, swaying your hips while canning the vegetables from the garden you watered to feed your family through winter. The sun is shining and he’s playing his guitar and you’re singing.

It took blood and guts and tears, it took a war to get here, to find peace, but you did. Fought tooth and nail for it, bled and lost and died for it.

Joel had done all he could but it was you who held the cards, who had all the strength. Not him.

And you’re singing.

Joel’s eyes fill with tears before the song’s over and when he goes to sleep that night he finds he can breathe a little easier. 

He learns that Stairway to Heaven is your favorite song because you ask him to play it all the time. Joel never gets tired of it. 

On the first day of August, Tommy comes to visit. You come rushing out of the front door, excited for Ellie to see how big the lambs have grown. Only, this time, Ellie isn’t sitting in the passenger seat. But Maria is and she’s holding a bundle of blankets close to her chest. 

You freeze on the last step of the front porch and Joel stands from his chair, on the defense before the truck is even in park. 

When Maria sees you for the first time in months, her face falls and she begins to weep.

No word is said, but you’re suddenly running through the tall grass in the yard and you’re throwing your arms around her and her new baby, an immediate exoneration that Joel’s not sure he trusts.

It’s a girl. They name her Olive. “Like that olive tree in the bible mama always used to talk about. It means forgiveness,” Tommy says.

You’re infatuated immediately. Olive’s a smiley baby, just like Sarah was. She doesn’t cry even once while they visit, while you give Maria a full tour of every room in the house and of the garden and the greenhouse and the barn.

“She’s been wanting to come for a while,” he tells Joel. “Just wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. It’s been real hard on her since you guys left. I didn’t wanna say anything, cause, well…you know.”

He does know. Tommy didn’t say anything because Joel had no interest in hearing it. No sympathy at all. “Look, I’m…I’m real glad they’re getting to see each other. Even happier to see my niece. An’ you know that Tommy, but…they can’t ever go back. Not to the way things used to be. I won’t allow it.”

Tommy’s eyes soften. “I know that. Maria knows it, too. I’ll admit, I wasn’t always the loudest advocate for you two but I’m glad things worked out the way they did. Glad she’s got you. Glad you’ve got her.”

Tommy takes his daughter from you with some convincing to give Joel a turn.

He cries when he holds her.

She’s so small, so soft and delicate in his arms. Olive reaches a hand up and tugs at the wiry hairs of his beard and he laughs until his stomach hurts. He bounces her in his arms and gently runs the pad of his index finger down the bridge of her tiny nose.

“We should talk,” Maria says after some time.

Tommy takes Olive from Joel’s arms. “I’ll, uh…give you guys a minute.”

Maria sits on one side of the table and you and Joel sit on the other. The tension is thick in the air, so much so he thinks he may be able to cut it with a knife. She clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

Joel wonders how hard an apology could be for something so horrific. If he were in her place, he thinks it would come easily. He knows his face is contorted into a scowl but he can’t bring himself to smooth it.

She tries again. This time, her voice is successful. She looks only to you and admits, “I want you to know that I have never blamed you for the loss of Sarah. I feel that is most important for me to say.”

His jaw ticks.

“It always felt like you did. I blamed myself enough already.” Your voice is so timid and mousy, such a stark contrast to the confidence he’s grown used to.

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry for it.”

A start, Joel thinks.

“I know I didn’t want to believe it at first,” she says. “About…about Thomas. I never would have imagined he’d ever be capable of such a thing, but I…looking back, I see there are things I’ve missed. And I hope you know that if you had just come to me before you…if you had—”

“Careful,” Joel says lowly.

You take his hand in yours beneath the table.

Maria swallows and straightens her spine. “I’m sorry,” she says again, tears welling in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt. My entire world had imploded and then to lose Sarah, too, I couldn’t…” She shakes her head. “I needed you after losing them both. But I was furious with you for not trusting me enough to believe you.”

“You didn’t believe it,” Joel states. “And you made her out to be some sort of villain in front of everyone. Being angry is not an excuse.”

“I know,” she says. “You’re right. And I admit, sending you out on these runs was selfish and horrible. I know it. But I do love you like a daughter. I love you as much as I ever loved Sarah, more, even because of the loss we share. Your absence has been…catastrophic. Please, I…I know I can never take back the things I’ve done but I would like to work towards something. If you’ll let me.”

“I didn’t deserve what you did to me. The burden you put on my shoulders,” you say. The confidence has returned to your voice, the surety. It puts Joel at ease to hear it.

“No,” Maria says. “You’re right. You didn’t.”

“But she would hate us for this.” Your hand trembles in his. You reach your other hand out and lay it on the tabletop, palm up and open. “I have to cut some vegetables for dinner tonight. Would you like to help?”

Maria takes your hand and a tear slides down her cheek.

You turn to Joel then, and ask, “Can you and Tommy bring in some rosemary and thyme from the greenhouse? I’d like a second alone with Maria if that’s okay.”

He doesn’t trust it. Not at first. Because without him at your side to mediate, to keep you safe from the harsh things Maria has proven herself capable of saying, who will protect you from her manipulation?

But then you squeeze his hand in yours and Joel reminds himself that he has faith. Faith in you, in what the two of you have built. He knows you’re capable of fending for yourself. And, more than that, he knows should you falter, he’ll be wherever you fall to pick you back up.

Should you forgive her, he’ll be at your side. And should you decide to keep your distance, he’ll be there just as well.

He finds Tommy and Olive near the barn. The two of them talk over how the conversation went and Joel admits he’s weary of the truce the two of you’ve come to. He holds Olive while Tommy picks a handful of herbs.

When they return to the house, Maria takes the infant from Joel’s arms and says softly, “Thank you. For making me see the error of my ways. For being for her what I never could be.”

It’s going to take time for him. You might be able to forgive her after a long talk and some time away, but Joel isn’t so easily swayed. 

And he thinks Maria knows it because as they’re leaving to return to Jackson that night she nods and says, “I’m really sorry, Joel. To you as much as to her. I’m going to try and make this right. For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

He looks at you as Tommy holds you in a tight embrace, at the way the two of you have such an ease with one another. He looks at Olive and the way she stares up at her mother as if she put the stars in the sky. “It’s not me you’ve gotta make it right for,” he tells her.

“I know. I’m going to do everything I can to prove it,” she says. “You’ve built a beautiful home here.”

When they leave, you melt in Joel’s arms and he carries you to bed and rubs your back as you cry.

But Maria keeps her word. She brings Ellie and Olive to the farm twice a week every week. Sometimes they bring trinkets or gifts or supplies from Jackson, other times they leave with vegetables from the garden or fresh baked bread. She never raises her voice at you, never asks anything of you other than, how can I help? Tommy becomes Jackson’s most frequent runner, but he oftentimes will stop out to see the two of you before he goes anywhere and the farm is his first stop on the way back. 

It takes time, takes a bit more watering and sunlight, but eventually trust begins to take root.

A snowstorm hits in December. It takes out the generator, leaving the farmhouse dark for most hours of the day. Joel tries to fix it but after a few hours in the cold, you tell him to come back inside, that in a few days you’ll take a trip to Jackson to get tools to repair it. 

You make the most of the darkness. You light a fire in the hearth and sleep on the living room floor. You play rummy a hundred times and Joel lets you cheat for every game just to see the smile on your face when you beat him. He teaches you how to play poker and you use walnuts as chips.

He discovers you have the best poker face he’s ever seen. And when he’s backed into a corner, unsure whether to fold or to put in all his walnuts, Joel gives up and throws his cards down, and crawls to you instead. He pushes you back against the mass of blankets and pillows brought down from the bedroom, forces your legs apart, and devours you. He licks and sucks at your clit until you’re crying out for him. Until you’re crying out for God.

He doesn’t know why he chooses this moment, but he does. 

“I want to marry you,” he says with his head between your thighs.

“What? What are you…?”

With his mouth pressed to the inside of your thigh, he says it again. “I wanna marry you, little girl.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back down and runs his tongue through your wet heat, delighting in the way you shiver and shake with just a single touch. “Want to give you everything.”

“You’ve already given me everything,” you say. Your hands tangle in the roots of his hair. “This is everything. You are everything, Joel.”

He slides his finger into you with ease. You’re dripping for him, slick coating his knuckles and spilling out of you and onto the blankets. “Wanna give you my last name, too,” he says. “Want you to be my little girl forever.”

“I already am,” you say, and it sounds like a promise.

The words make him groan against your skin. I already am. Of course you are. You’ve always been. 

Joel makes you finish on his mouth one more time before crawling up to you and pulling you close. Before he has a chance to lay his head down you’re asking through panting breaths, “Did you mean it?”

“‘Course I did.” He presses a kiss to your hairline that’s dotted with sweat. You stay silent for a moment, and Joel finds that it doesn’t frighten him. Whatever your answer may be he’s content with. Satisfied, happy. As long as he gets to hold you like this there’s nothing else he’d ever need. 

Still, he can’t deny the excitement that courses through him when you say, “Okay. We’ll go to the chapel when we get to Jackson.”

While you sleep, he carves two identical oak rings to perfectly fit on your ring fingers. He stains them black, seals the wood, and fries eggs for breakfast to present them with. He asks if you’d rather wait and put them on during the ceremony or if you want to do it now. 

“We should do it now, don’t you think? Just the two of us.” 

He puts yours on for you around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and a smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. When you place Joel’s ring on his finger, it doesn’t feel out of place or foreign on his hand. It feels like taking off an uncomfortable piece of clothing after wearing it all day, like kicking your feet up and laying your head back. It feels like coming home.

The moment is intimate and he knows he’ll always remember it, always hold the memory close. He finds himself missing it even while still living it, finds himself wanting to stay in this little happy bubble with you forever.

After breakfast, you’re readying yourself for the journey to Jackson. Bundling up in warm clothes, tightening boot laces, filling canteens. But then the front door is ripped open and on instinct, Joel grabs his rifle from the side of the bed. 

“Joel!”

Tommy’s voice is frantic. The both of you are at the bottom of the stairs in a second. 

His brother lets out a sigh of relief and doubles over with his hands on his knees. “Oh, thank God. I thought the storm might’ve taken out the farm.”

Joel doesn’t understand it at first. But when the three of you climb into Tommy’s truck and head to Jackson, he realizes just how fortunate you’d gotten. 

Less than a mile away, there are downed trees on every side of the street, thousand-year-old trunks severed in half. The abandoned buildings between the farm and the commune have been demolished, splintered into a thousand tiny pieces. 

Somehow, you’d been left untouched. The generator was the worst of it.

For the first time, he wonders just how safe you really are. He’d brought you to the farm, away from Jackson, to protect you. But there are things he can’t fight against. Beasts he has no business battling. He wonders if the two of you should abandon the home, the heaven you’ve created in order to ensure your safety.

You’ve gotten lucky twice now. He knows there won’t be a third time.

You reach through the space between the driver and passenger seats and grip Joel’s hand in yours. He can feel your ring press against the palm of his hand and it grounds him, pulls him out of his head. With your free hand, you hold the cross necklace you’ve never taken off since he’d given it to you in that church and say, “I know you don’t believe in God much anymore, but I think something has been looking out for us.”

At the chapel, Tommy stands beside Joel and Ellie stands beside you. Dina takes pictures on an old Polaroid camera. Half of Jackson sits in the pews and there’s so much joy and laughter in the day that Joel wonders if he deserves it. 

But then you look at him, slide your hand into his, and press your cheek to his shoulder. You say, “I love you,” as if it’s the simplest, easiest thing you’ve ever said. As if it’s second nature. You don’t fight it, don’t hesitate or second guess. You say it because it’s true. You, an innocent, love him.

Joel Miller thinks he might be worthy of forgiveness after all.

[part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

[masterlist]

[realcube]

kunikida + work stress

things at the ada have been heating up, from what you've heard. your boyfriend speaks little of his work, but it doesn't take a psychoanalytical genius to figure out by the way he grinds his teeth constantly and the perpetual look of discomfort on his face that he might be stressed.

and unless it was your relationship that was straining him — which it's not because you're an angel — the only other viable option is his work.

he doesn't like to divulge information about his job too much so whenever you ask him about the issues going on, in hopes that talking about it might alleviate his worries, he finds a way to skirt around the details and essentially tell you nothing.

not bothering to pry any longer, you give it a rest and leave him to sort it out on his own like he usually does. however, you realise that his stress may be a cause for concern, when you begin to smell burning in your bedroom on a tuesday night.

having not lit any candles, naturally you were worried. though you were instantly relieved when you noticed your bedroom window was open, and the source of the scent was definitely coming from outside.

promptly, you shut the window to prevent the smell from infecting your room, then rush downstairs to inspect it further. without searching for long, you find the back door is ajar and through the slit you can see outside, and there is a figure looming by the wall which you immediately recognise as your boyfriend, kunikida.

however, it was what he was doing that came as a shock.

you watch as he brings a cigarette up to his lips, and takes an extended draw; huffing out the smoke in a deep, jaded sigh, allowing it to sink into the crisp night air. the lit tip glowed a fiery orange, which reflected in his glasses as he stared down at it. cigarette held between his two fingers, one arms was crossed over his chest and the other held it to his mouth, then lazily dropped back to his side as he exhaled.

as a grown man, he could do what he wants so it wasn't nessecarily off-putting to see him smoke — especially not when he does it in such an alluring manner — but it simply surprised you since you've never seen him do it before, nor has he ever mentioned it.

you pad over to the door and poke your head out, "are you okay?" you ask, quietly.

when he fully registers your presense, he is quick to try and hide his cigarette by throwing it on the ground and stomping on it, then crossing his arms over his chest and awkwardly looking up at the sky as though he was just admiring the moon all along. "oh, yes, dear." he stammered, trying to create the most believable pose, but they were all rigid, "i just needed some fresh air."

"you know i saw you, right?" you giggle, while he sighs from defeat.

"(y/n), i'm so sorry. the pressure from the ada has been severe so i—"

you hastily interupt him before he commences a long-winded, solemn apology, "you don't need to be sorry. do what you like. i'm not your mother, or your doctor."

eyebrows furrowed together, he nods.

"but i do feel a bit bad," since he didn't have anything to add, you continue, "that you'd rather stand out here in the dark with a cigarette than talk to me about your work stress. but whatever helps, i suppose."

his breath hitches, and all he's able to do is offer you a weak smile, "may i do both?"

you reciprocate, and with a small shrug, you whisper, "sure."

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Warnings: mentions of sex, SB bringing home ladies, reader is still pretty young in this part, HL having to educate his sister on what cheating is 🙃, Soldier Boy continues to mentally scar his children lol, mentions of infidelity/cheating

Words: 1314

Summary: While Soldier Boy entertains ladies in his bedroom, Homelander shields you from their moans and takes you outside to look at the night sky.

btw, happy new year guys! :)

🌸Did you get enough love my little dove 🌸Well you do enough talk my little hawk

When Homelander started hearing the moaning coming from the other side of his bedroom wall, he immediately swings his feet out from under his blankets and bolts out of his bedroom and over to your room. Within the next few minutes Homelander knew that the moaning and other noise will just get louder and louder. He had a short amount of time to get you out.

Over his arm is hung a bulky pair of headphones and a warm blanket.

You stir when you hear your door open, lifting your sleepy head up from the pillow. "What're you doing?"

"Dad has one of his. . . lady friends over. So you know what that means."

All sleep evaporated from you when you register what this entails. "We're gonna go visit the stars!"

He has to stop you in your excitement from running out of your room. "Hold on. Slippers and coat." Homelander forces you back around after he puts the headphones over your small ears.

You follow him out, unaware of the sound of skin smacking against skin that made Homelander's eartips redden from sheer embarrassment. Children shouldn't have to hear that. And damn his enhanced hearing that picked up every sharp note and shrill moan.

Outside was cast in a dark blue tint with just the moon and stars as the only light source. That was one of the good things about living further from most other neighbors. Less light pollution.

The woods in the back of your house was your playground. Countless hours spent out there with Homelander, living in your imagination and being just kids for once instead of weapons of mass destruction. You were free out there. The two of you could be whoever you wanted to. Vogelbaum, Edgar, not even Soldier Boy could follow you out there. Towering trees and scattering bushes was your sanctuary.

In the heart of it stood the little wooden shed you and Homelander had built as a type of playhouse. That was where you stored things that Soldier Boy would otherwise deem as nerd shit or something only pussies would do. Which you never understood what he meant by that and Homelander was never privy to tell you. You didn't need the same mentality that Soldier Boy had. Homelander wanted you to have an open mind. To not become a jaded person like their father.

There were folded blankets stacked off to the side for when you and Homelander have picnics or star gazing nights like this. Hidden between two blankets was the dismantled telescope Homelander had smuggled in as well as a few books on astronomy.

Homelander easily locates the bulky flashlight that they used to read their books late at night. While he's grabbing the books, you gather the blankets and telescope.

Shuffling out with arms full, you ask "Do boyfriend-girlfriends usually have lady friends?"

He frowns, really not wanting to answer. "What are you talking about?"

"Well" you smartly start, as if you knew all about the adult world "Dad is boyfriend-girlfriend with Crimson Countess, right? But then he has over his lady friends. And they make the same noise Crimson Countess ma-"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Hurriedly cutting you off, Homelander decides right there was a good enough spot to settle down in as he drops his books. He doesn't want to look at you as he fidgets around; pulling the telescope from the safety between the blankets. "No. Usually couples only see one another. No one else. It's called cheating when someone isn't loyal to their partner."

A soft breeze rustles the leaves around Homelander's ankles, startling him for a moment. You're seated on the blanket with another wrapped around your body to offer you warmth and watch him. "So dad is cheating on Countess?"

Damn Soldier Boy for making Homelander have to tell you these things that you shouldn't know about. With a meticulous touch, he connects the telescope's sleek metal components, each piece fitting together like a perfect puzzle.

After extending the tripod, Homelander bashfully nods. "Yeah. He cheats on her. . ."

You're quiet, ruminating over what this meant which your brother is grateful for. He hated ruining the tint of your rose colored glasses. If Homelander had it his way, you would always stay sweet and innocent with no bad thoughts in your head.

Adjusting the focus on the eyepiece, Homelander tests it out on the starry spectacle above. "It's all set. Here, look. I think I see the sagittarius constellation. Or. . . maybe its scorpius. . ." He balances the flashlight in the crook of his arm to reference the book he held with his hand.

"Is cheating normal?" Sounding so small in that moment, he turns his attention over to you. Your little brows were scrunched together. Disney princess movies definitely didn't involve this. The prince always got with the princess in the end. They never divulged what happened after the movie was done. Did Prince Charming actually cheat on Cinderella after that beautiful ending?

Firm hands land on your shoulders and looks you square in the eyes, holding it with sincerity. "If a guy ever cheats on you I want you to laser his face off. You want someone who'll be utterly devoted to you."

"Oh, so someone like you?" You instantly come to that conclusion with a bubbly smile. He was the only person to ever display such characteristics in your life. Soldier Boy tend to leave you and Homelander to your own devices many days of the week. In the morning sometimes there'd be signs that he hadn't come home at all. Homelander was all you had.

He wants to agree with you, wants to tell you that you should just stay by his side for the rest of your life. That was his ultimate dream. For the two of you to always be together.

There were always moments in his day when Homelander would be looking at you, the apple of his eye, and remember that once you grow up you may decide that it was time to part from your older brother. Get out from under his protective wing to explore what the world had to offer by yourself.

A day where you would no longer need him.

Out there by yourself there was potential for harm to befall you. Not physical harm, he doubts you'd let anyone lay a hand on you. Emotional harm was what worried Homelander most. If a guy were to break her heart, he'd pulverize them without question.

You were like his bright moon among a never ending void of darkness.

"Yeah. Someone like me." Homelander finally replies, hoping his melancholy didn't surface to his face.

Looking through the telescope, you marvel at the shimmering lights of the stars that hung over you. "Some day I want to try flying all the way up there." Your breath comes out in a small white puff from the cold.

That was something you always said. "I know you will."

Pulling away from the telescope, you have a hopeful smile lighting up your face. "And you'll be there with me, right? I don't want to do it alone."

Before he could reply, a haunting melody emerged—a distant echo that had you forgetting about the telescope and running to Homelander's side.

"What is that?" you whisper into his arm.

Homelander had heard the call before though and simply chuckles at your cute reaction. "That's from a loon."

"A loon?"

"It's a type of bird that sometimes likes to come out at night." Homelander motions for you to be quiet so you could hear the mournful symphony as another loon adds it's voice somewhere in the distance. Each call was a lyrical punctuation.

He lets you marvel in it before the calls died down, returning the forest once more to a still quiet.

I'd go to the moon with you, my little loon.

Thanks for reading!

[bobbithewriter]

Miller's Secret

Chapter 1: Cafe Kisses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 5058 Series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] You don’t know how or why but you find yourself drawn to an older man. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and pepper gray hair drive you wild. But there’s one problem: he’s your professor. Unsure of how to get over this crush you decide to apply for a mentorship… under him. It could all go horribly wrong, or it could be just the thing you both need.  Series warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, this is so smutty I’m not even sorry. Very veryyy brief mentions of Y/N (if any). Age gap- reader is in her 20’s while Joel is in his late 40’s/ early 50’s, it’s not specified. Student/Teacher relationship but it’s not what you think. Inappropriate relationships, yearning, tension, sexual tension, sarah doesn’t exist here (sorry girl), secret relationship, cursing. Chapter summary: After crafting the perfect schedule for your last year of college, you find out that one of your classes in your first semester got dropped. Forced to find a replacement, you settle for Intro to Philosophy with Professor Miller. You’re in for a big surprise. Chapter warnings: 18+, Smut, fem!reader, professor!joel miller, sexually explicit thoughts, cursing, age gap, inappropriate thoughts/dreams, oral (f receiving), sexual tension, secret relationship.

A/N: This is the first chapter to what I hope will be an interesting series. It goes without saying that this is all FICTION. enjoy:))

-

The heat is stifling outside, the sunning blazes down, scorching the Earth beneath it. It’s nearing the end of summer and you just can’t believe it’s gone by as fast as it has. Although you’ve spent most of it working, like today, there have been a few moments of relaxation sprinkled in, but not nearly enough for your liking. 

Making your way into your two bedroom apartment, you toss your keys on the coffee table near the door. You kick off your shoes and rush to turn the A.C. on hoping to be rescued from the heat. The apartment is silent, your roommate, Jade, is most likely at work giving you time to decompress from the very tiring shift you’ve just had.

You enter your room and are welcomed by your cat Lulu whose orange fur shines thanks to the sunlight passing through your window. Clothes litter the floor, books and magazines lay scattered on your nightstand and desk, your room is a proper mess, but it’s your mess. You make your way to the rickety wooden desk that sits against the wall closest to your window, pulling the near see-through curtains together in hopes of keeping some of the sun out. 

You open your laptop and look up your school’s student sign in, hoping to review the courses you’ll be taking this semester. Although you’ve grown to love school and love the structure it provides you with, you feel an immense relief knowing that it’s your last year in college. The parties and events are fun but you finally feel ready for more, you’re hoping for something more worthwhile. Lucky for you, your last two semesters are light ones since you’re not taking nearly as many classes as usual- you shudder thinking back to your freshman year when you thought taking seven was a good idea. Last spring, when registering for classes, you crafted the perfect schedule: four classes fall semester, three classes spring semester- easy. 

You scroll down to the bottom of your schedule only to find that one of your classes, an elective, has been dropped. Confused, you grab the notebook from the shelf above your desk and flip through the pages until you find the schedule you outlined back in April. Sure enough you see that your photography class has been dropped due to them not finding a professor for the course. You check your student email and find that you were sent a message back in July notifying you of the change. Frustrated at yourself for forgetting to read your emails, you return to the school’s registration page. Unfortunately, with classes starting next week, you know that the chances of you actually getting a class you’d find interesting are slim to none. You scroll and scroll until you’re able to find a class that fits with the rest of your schedule: philosophy. Great, you think, two hours a week dedicated to listening to some old guy drone on and on about ethics and morals and what the meaning of life is. 

The cursor hovers over the register button. Do you really want to do this? You have two options: you could always take photography next semester with the professor you like, or, you can suck it up and get this elective over with and earn another three credits but be forced to listen to a bunch of existential nonsense. You, for whatever reason, pick the latter. You rationalize with yourself that it’s only one class and it’s just one step closer to graduating. You decide to mull over the syllabus jotting down a list of school supplies you might need for the upcoming school year when you get a notification from your email. 

Professor J. Miller

Fall A- Tuesdays and Thursdays 10:30-12:30- Office hours: TR 1:00-3:00 or by appointment 

Welcome to Intro to Philosophy! Like the title suggests this course will be the most basic introduction to philosophy and its integration into our society. No textbook is required for this class but I do expect you all to come to every class prepared to discuss the handouts I give you. Participation is a requirement for this class and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts and opinions. Looking forward to meeting you all next week!

Best, JM

Although you won’t have to spend even more money on textbooks for the class, the prospect of having to show up every other day for weeks on end just to earn a participation credit is enough for you to groan aloud. 

-

The week goes by quickly, between work, getting ready for the upcoming semester, and hanging out with Jade, you’ve barely had any time to yourself. Lucky for you, you don’t have any classes on Monday giving you time for some much needed self care. You complete your yearly before-school-starts-self-care-routine, trimming your hair, painting your nails, shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows- the works. 

You spend the day lounging about your room, playing your favorite albums on your record player to fill the silence. You try on different outfits feeling totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. As if on cue you get a notification from your phone. Opening your email you find a message from Professor Miller with a full copy of the syllabus and a short article to read. 

Good afternoon everyone! Below I have linked a copy of the syllabus and an article for you all to read before class tomorrow. I hope to spend less time going over the syllabus, only answering questions you might have, and more time talking about the contents of the paper. Please come prepared!

Best, JM

Great, homework before you even start the class. You move to your bed where lulu is sprawled out and begin reading the article. You read paragraph after paragraph discussing value theory and metaphysics, taking notes as you do with the hopes of actually understanding what you’re reading. You finish and decide that you’ll review the notes tomorrow before class. Surely it won’t be that bad.

-

You wake up later than you intended and realize you don’t have nearly as much time to get ready as you wanted. You get ready quickly knowing you’ll have to stop by your school’s cafe since you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. The drive is a short one and eventually you’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Grabbing your backpack and keys you enter the cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils. Looking at your watch you realize you have 20 minutes till class starts and relax a bit. You order your usual, a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a chocolate croissant, and wait for your name to be called. Behind you you hear the bell on the door jingle signaling that another customer has entered the already very busy cafe. 

As you wait you can’t help but look around at the cafe’s patrons, some are clearly students while others are harder to discern, maybe professors, maybe alumni, you’re unsure? Your university is located at the center of the city so many alumni linger around, finding jobs after graduating but still gathering at some of the college’s most popular cafes and restaurants. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the barista calling out names and orders. 

“Large six shot quad espresso with extra ice for Joel”, shouts the barista.

Your eyes first land on the very large cup filled to the brim with espresso and then to the person picking it up from the counter. Your eyes trail up from his hands, to his arms, and finally to his face, ogling him unintentionally, and you’re met with a sly grin from the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry for starring”, you laugh, “I’ve just never seen someone order that many shots of espresso in a single cup.”

“What can I say, I like my coffee strong”, he laughs. “I’m Joel”, he says, extending his hand out for you to shake.

The man before you is tall, six foot if you’d have to guess, with broad shoulders and large arms. He’s sporting a light blue button down and navy blue trousers that make his already tan skin seem impossibly warmer and brighter. His dark brown hair is peppered with grays as is his beard- though you wouldn’t really describe it as a beard, more like scruff. His hands are large and pretty much engulf your own as you extend your hand to shake his. His shake is firm and you find the handshake lingering longer than you both probably anticipated. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”, you reply. From the looks of it he’s anywhere between his late 40’s or early 50’s, but you’re not really sure. His brown eyes hold your gaze momentarily and you notice that he too is sizing you up. You snap out of it when you hear your name called.

“Small vanilla latte with two shots of espresso for Y/N”, the barista shouts again. 

“Ah I can see why my six shots would scare you”, Joel jokes, keeping his body facing you as you reach for your breakfast. 

“Yeah well caffeine tends to make me jittery and I’ve got class in a bit so I’m trying to keep the coffee to a minimum”, you respond. “Anyways, I better get going”, you say, “It was nice meeting you, Joel.”

Before he has a chance to respond you find yourself walking to the door but not before turning back around and giving him a small smile. As you make the short walk to your first class you find yourself thinking of him. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a guy and maybe that’s why you find yourself still thinking about this stranger but a part of you also knows it has more to do with his good looks. You’ve never really found yourself attracted to older men like that, partly because you live in a college town where most of the guys you interact with are no older than twenty five and partly because you’ve just never met an attractive older man in person.

You think back to his face, a blend of strong, masculine features but with a much softer side as well. The slight curve of his nose and edge of his jaw seemed almost drawn with charcoal, and you can’t help but think back to the warmth in his eyes.

God it’s been too long since you’ve been with a guy, now you’re replaying a five minute interaction with a total stranger. Great. You take your phone out to text Jade.

Y: Dude I just saw the cutest fucking guy, too bad he was like 50:/ It’s actually concerning how touch starved I am bc im literally daydreaming about this guy and we said like five words to each other LMAO J: OUUUU DILF DILF DILF Girl go for it, who cares if he's old, hot is hot Did you get the sexy strangers number?? Y: NO our interaction lasted maybe two minutes  J: Too bad:(  It’s okay bc I hereby declare that we are officially going out this weekend and you’re gonna get laiddddd Y: okay this conversation is over J: this. weekend.

You smile despite yourself and fasten your pace hoping to leave any thoughts of Joel in your wake. You take the stairs up to the second floor and enter the room. Although it’s not quite as big as a lecture hall, there are a decent amount of students already there waiting for class to start. You take a seat in the middle of the third row, your usual spot since it’s close enough to seem engaged when you want but also far enough away so you’re not in the direct line of crossfire when it comes time to participate. 

You’re too distracted getting settled to notice him walk in but when you look up you see Joel… in your class… walking to the podium? You’re struck with the sudden realization that he’s your professor. Your professor is Joel. Oh my God. The sexy stranger, as Jade put it, is literally your teacher.

It seems that he notices at the same time as you do and he gives you a warm smile. Okay, there’s no need to freak out. He clearly doesn’t care so why should you and really there’s nothing to even care about right. It’s fine, he was clearly making normal conversation and you just happened to be the sex-deprived stranger he gave his attention to. There is absolutely no reason to overthink this. So what your teacher is cute, it won’t make a difference, you’re here to get your credit and go.

He makes his way around his desk and podium and begins, “Good morning class, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the room. It’s good to see you’re all here so let’s get started shall we. If you have any questions about the syllabus now is the time to ask, I want to get started on dissecting the article I had you all read.”

His voice is clear- confident- and you can’t help but to hold onto every word he says. He looks around the room, waiting a beat to see if anyone raises their hand and moves on. 

“Okay great, now I want you guys to first raise your hands and tell me your thoughts on the paper itself, did you like it, did you dislike it? Feel free to get as specific as you want.”

Around you, your classmates raise their hands and participate, voicing their opinions on the paper. Some thought the paper was interesting, others didn’t, but there seems to be a universal agreement that the paper was difficult to really understand, a fact your professor seems to catch onto.

“So it seems as though the room is pretty split between whether the paper was good or not. That’s fine! Philosophers have disagreements all the time. But how many of you really understand what Value Theory is, hm? Can someone explain what it is to the best of their abilities, it’s okay to be wrong, that’s why I’m here”, he says. 

You raise your hand, “Value theory is, at its core, worried about justifying our value judgments and the actions that follow. It basically tries to answer hard questions like what it means to pick between the ‘lesser of two evils’ or what it means to be a ‘good’ person.”

“That’s exactly right”, he says, holding your gaze for a moment and giving you a small smile. 

You return his smile with pride, happy to have gotten the answer right. You’ve always excelled academically and although you would never admit it to anyone else, you crave the validation you get from your professors and peers. 

The rest of class continues on like normal with Professor Miller explaining the differences between Value Theory and Metaphysics and how they might help us answer some difficult questions. 

Class continues as normal and just as he’s about to dismiss everyone he gives a few housekeeping reminders: two papers to read before next class, office hours are Thursdays after class, and mentoring?

“Like the syllabus says, I do mentor a small group of students each semester who want to get a more in depth understanding of philosophy. Unfortunately I cannot mentor every single one of you so if you want to be one of the lucky students please submit a one-page proposal of sorts by the end of class Thursday. If you have any questions feel free to email me. You’re dismissed”, he says.

Packing your things you’re left with this new idea to ponder. It might be good to have Professor Miller as a mentor so you can get another letter of recommendation, but you’re not even sure you even enjoy philosophy like that. You have a couple days to decide anyways, who knows what you’ll end up doing. 

-

The rest of your day drags on slowly and by the time you finally get home you can’t help but sink onto your carpet floor and just lay there. Lulu hops off the bed and curls up next to your side. You let out a groan thinking about just how much homework you have to do and it’s only your first day. Two papers to read, a proposal to write- you decided you’d take a shot at it, there’s no guarantee you’ll even get picked so who cares- a four page research paper due, and an online quiz. You mentally thank yourself for only having picked three classes this semester. 

After eating dinner and showering you decide to start on your proposal. You rack your brain trying to come up with at least three different reasons you want this mentorship. One: you need another letter of recommendation- you plan on applying to graduate school or law school and both require amazing letters of rec- and one from your philosophy professor would look good. Two: you find philosophy interesting (sometimes) and maybe one on one sessions with your professor will strengthen that interest. And three: it doesn’t hurt that your would-be-mentor is easy on the eyes. Okay that third reason isn’t really a reason it’s more of a plus but it’s still valid. 

It takes you longer to submit your proposal than it does to actually finish it. You deliberate the options: you could submit it and work closely with Professor Miller, if you get picked that is, or you could never submit it and never have to worry about being in close proximity to that man. Fuck it, you think, and click submit. You hope you don’t end up regretting that. 

-

Thursday comes and goes pretty uneventfully with the exception of Mr. Miller telling your class that he would release the names of the students picked for the mentorship by the end of the weekend. You, surprisingly, aren’t at all nervous. You know that if you get picked it will look great on your resume but if you don’t it won’t really make much of a difference. 

Unsurprisingly you spend the rest of your day studying and going to work, it seems as though your days consist only of those two things now. When you get home you find Jade sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. You decide to join her seeing as you both have seen so little of each other because of all the craziness that the start of the semester consists of. 

You guys quickly stop working on any actual homework and start talking about random stuff, friends, boys, work, and school. Eventually the conversation shifts to your professor.

Jade gives you a smirk, nudging your arm, “So how cute is he really? Do you have a picture of him or something, I’ll be the real judge.”

You open your laptop again, scrolling down your course page until you find his picture. Zooming in, you turn your computer towards Jade.

“Sweet baby Jesus, that is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Oh my GOD! Is it too late to register for this class?” she laughs. “If you don’t make a move I will.”

You laugh, snatching your computer back from her. “You know I can’t do anything, he’s my professor. It would be totally unethical”, you say.

“It would be totally fucking hot”, says Jade. “Come on it’s not like you’ll get expelled or anything, it says nothing in the Student Code of Conduct about it so you’re fine.”

“Have you ever even read the Student Code of Conduct?” you retort. 

“Well no, but I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about that”, Jade laughs.

You both stay there talking for another hour or so, taking turns telling each other about how your days have gone. Eventually Jade decides that Saturday night is “the night” as she puts it. 

“We are so getting you laid, you need it more than anyone I know, no offense”, she says.

You give her a glare but ultimately give in. You haven’t gone out since that one night last semester that ended with you holding Jade’s hair as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet. You’ve never been much of a partier, much less someone who enjoyed one night stands but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a barren few months and you haven’t had much company with anyone except Bertha, your vibrator. Maybe it was finally time to give into the college craze and sleep with a random person, no emotions, no strings attached, just sex. 

The thought stays in your head throughout the rest of your day. As you’re getting ready for bed you open your laptop and can’t help but look at the picture of Mr. Miller there. He really is sexy, you think, as you’re reminded of his broad shoulders and strong arms. You fall asleep with the thought of him in your mind.

-

You’re sitting in his office, nestling yourself further into the wicker chair. You close your eyes taking in the smells of his office, rich mahogany, oak, and leather. You feel him behind you, his presence close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Your heart seems to stop, anticipating his next move. His hands trail up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He lowers his head down to your shoulder and you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down to the base of your spine.

“Do you know how wrong it would be for us to do anything? Hm?” he whispers. 

His voice reverberates through your entire body, straight to your core. You feel the familiar flutter in your lower abdomen and the way your heart seems to start beating again but this time impossibly fast.

His lips press a kiss to your shoulder and you instinctively move your head to the side, hoping he takes it as a sign that you want more. His fingers trail up your arms again but this time to your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the skin he just kissed.

“Your heart’s beating a little fast there sweetheart, you alright?”

You nod, silently praying your body doesn’t betray you again. 

“Hm. Are you lying to me now? You know”, he says kissing your neck again, “good girls don’t lie. Are you a good girl?” he asks.

You think you nod again but your mind is so out of it you’re not sure if you actually do or not. His scruff lightly scratches against your smooth skin as his left hand wraps itself around the base of your left shoulder and his lips make their way up and down your right, your breath hitching as he does. 

Against your ear, he again whispers, “Tell me the truth, baby. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to take you right here?”

Your mind is reeling from his touch, his lips, his words, you’re struck silent for once.

“You know baby, if you’re honest I might just give you what you want. C'mon darlin’ be a good girl and tell me how much you want it.”

You open your mouth and pray that your voice sounds stronger than you feel right now. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me”, you whine. 

“Where do you want me to touch darlin’? Your breasts? Want me to play with your nipples? Or your cunt? I bet it’s already so wet for me”, he whispers against your skin. 

“Both”, you cry out, spreading your legs apart praying he gives you what you most crave.

He lifts you up from the chair and spins you around, pressing you firmly to his front. He moves one hand to your hair and pulls it gently, angling your face to his. His eyes have gone from brown to nearly black and it sends another shiver down your body. His lips crash into yours in a kiss so earth shattering you feel yourself turn to mush, leaning against the desk for some support. With one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his front, you finally get to feel the hard dent in his pants. You moan into his mouth and regain some sense. You kiss him with a newfound intensity, pawing at this chest hoping to feel some of the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He smirks against your mouth, chuckling at your urgency. “You’re so damn cute when you’re desperate, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want”, he says before his hands begin exploring your body even more. You feel the hand that was on the base of your back move down your ass and give it a hard squeeze, that familiar flutter in your abdomen returning. His lips once again move to your throat and down your chest; you feel your face getting hot and your breaths getting more rapid because of the lack of oxygen. He begins unbuttoning your satin blouse, replacing where the buttons were with kisses. 

He moves you so your back now rests flat against his desk and you feel him kiss lower and lower down your body. He kisses his way down to your naval and begins unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly, taunting you. 

Just when you think he’s going to give you what he wants, his lips start going back up, following a similar path as before. He kisses your breasts over the mesh balconette bra you’re wearing, your nipples hardening as he does. You’re moaning wildly at this point, never having been this turned on before. His hands move to your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side. He begins attacking your chest with a fervent need, softly biting your nipples, forcing a moan from deep within your chest. Your hands make their way to his hair and you tug at the base of his curls needing an anchor as you feel yourself slowly begin to lose it. You’re desperately trying to find some friction between your legs and you start grinding your still covered cunt against the dent in his pants. 

“Look at you, such a sweet thing grinding against me. Cmon baby, tell me again how much you want it”, he says as his lips make their way down your body again.

“Please” you beg, “I want it so bad, please just fuck me.” Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and you’re almost certain you look fucked out of your mind even though nothing’s even happened yet. 

“Oh I’m not going to fuck you here, honey, though I bet you’d fucking love it”, he says.

Your chest deflates a little from disappointment and you can’t help the low whine that comes out of your throat.

“I will, however, give that pussy the attention it deserves”, he says again, this time pulling your pants down past your hips and off your legs. 

Your heart begins racing as he kisses his way down your stomach, stopping right at the edge of your panties. He looks up at you and sees pure desire written all over your face. He kisses your center over the fabric of your panties, making you jolt from the sudden contact. Moving to kiss along the inside of your thighs, his scruff scratches harshly now against your skin. His fingers wrap themselves along the sides of your panties and he slowly peels them off of you. 

You look down at his kneeling figure, fully clothed with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a stark contrast to your entirely naked form spread out for him on his desk. 

“So fuckin beautiful”, he says against the skin of your thighs, peppering kisses there at random. Just as you're about to beg for the fourth time, he wraps your legs over his shoulders and dips his head between your thighs. He licks a long strip up to your clit where he starts sucking relentlessly. Your fingers find themselves digging into his hair, holding on as you grind yourself further into his mouth. He licks your cunt until you’re writhing in pleasure, holding onto the desk and his hair for dear life. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to form and you chase it. You’re a moaning mess when he starts to tongue fuck your pussy, so close you could scream. His nose continuously bumps against the hood of your clit and you think you see stars.

“Fuck I’m close”, you moan, your back arching against the cool wooden desk.

One of his hands comes up to tug on your hardened nipples while the other finds refuge between your thighs. You feel him smirk against your skin and you realize why when he dips a finger into your spasming hole. His large finger works itself in and out of you, pushing you closer to your release. 

“You like that baby?” he asks. “Cmon I want you to come for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” 

Not waiting for your response he adds another finger, fucking you in tandem with his mouth. With every stroke you feel yourself getting closer, your juices gushing down your inner thighs, producing a sound so obscene it’s bordering pornographic. It’s only when he curves his finger, hitting your g-spot that you feel yourself lose it. 

“Oh my God-”, you cry out, “Fuck I’m cumming.”

Your legs shake beside his head but he doesn’t stop fucking you through your high. Your mind is blank and your thighs are sticky from your release and you think you might have just gone to heaven and back.

-

You wake with a gasp in your bed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel your shirt sticking to the skin on your back. The boyshorts you’re wearing feel wet and sticky from your release. You sit up trying to momentarily catch your breath and you stare in the mirror directly across from your bed. The skin on your chest is red and blotching and your sheets are rumpled.

God, did you really just have a wet dream about your professor? Maybe applying for this mentorship was a mistake.