#xxx mature forced

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[hhighkey]

Taken // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: Stockholm syndrome, implied past kidnapping, reader kidnapped by stalker!hunter, attempted force marriage, attempted sa, violence, injuries, murder, I mean phantom troupe, time skips and flashbacks, unprotected sex, uvo is a manhandler, size kink, emotional reunions, nobu may be ooc, female reader Note: this mayyy be 14k words, edited for grammar, ao3 link: xxx , link for part 2

It was a night like any other whilst Uvogin was away on Troupe business. You were left to your own devices as your body slowly healed. Sensitive lungs and throat from all the coughing, chest weak with each breath- even going from one room to the next pushed your limits. But you still insisted that Uvogin needed to begin partaking in Troupe business again, that you'd still be alive when he'd return. No need for his excessive worrying. 

Your fingers graced gingerly along the dimly lit screen on your lap. Curled up on your bed with a multitude of plush blankets atop, stuffed animals at your side, a glass of water on the side table. This was contentment. Peace and quiet, not that you didn't miss Uvogin's loudness as he stomped around the apartment. It feels empty when he's gone and normally you'd count down the hours till his return, but this was your first night without him in months. Your overly clingy brute of a boyfriend, once former captor, that owned your body and soul. The man you gave your love to. 

The sound of an unlocking door was amiss to you. You were lost in your own world of the words on the screen that you don't hear the creaking floor boards as a multitude of footsteps creep about. Hushed whispers as weapons were drawn, all before the door to your room burst open. 

"Wha-" You shriek at the men storming into the room, tumbling out of bed as your head hit the wall. 

Backing into the corner, a man with curly blonde hair strides from the sea of darkly cloaked men. 

"W-Who are you?" You were shaking, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Practically able to feel your heart hammering out your chest, "Please don't hurt me," 

"We won't hurt you. We're with the Hunter Association, you know what that is correct?" The man began to approach you like you were a scared animal cornered in the wild. 

You nod hesitantly, but a twisted sense of safety comes over you until you remember that Uvogin and the others were criminals. 

"I understand you've been held here by a member of the Phantom Troupe?"

"I live here with my boyfriend." 

"How sad." The man stepped closer so much you could feel his breath- he grasped your wrist like you were nothing but a rag doll. Dragging you from the corner, making you stumble over your feet to the floor. Crying out in pain your knees burned from the contact, palms skidding as you were dragged right back up. 

"Leave me! I want to stay!" You pleaded. 

His eyes darkened, as he manhandled you, hand firm on your jaw forcing you to look at him. Yet his grasp was harsh and unflinching, a coldness shivered through you as your gazes connected, "I'm here to rescue you from that beast."

"I don't need to be rescued," You said meekly, a single tear running down your cheek.

Your body hurts. Lungs taut as if each breath was like intaking sandpaper against the meek organs you once needed medicine to keep alive. 

Looking around you let out a heavy sigh. Forced to settle into yet another room they've tossed you in, like a show pony for a revolving door of visitors. Poking and prodding at you. Talking down at you like you're a child— reprimanding each time you insist you love Uvogin, as if you couldn't possibly have genuine feelings. They'd get frustrated, throw things as you beg to be returned to the apartment you once resided. It confused you— why the head Hunter, Bates, who'd carried you out of your home cares so much, you've never met him! 

How long has it been? Maybe a month you assumed from the glimpses of changed calendars you caught sight of. But your senses were dulled at this point, from constant moving and drugs forced into your system to keep you pliant. They keep you confused about your location as they thrust you from each hiding spot to keep going forward. 

But you were fully awake now though, on alert with the knots in your stomach wound tightly. Staring at the same cream walls with crude art for the last two days, the books at your table side ones you have no interest in. You're thankful to have a window in what you imagine is a small fortress of a house. The air is too cold for you, for months Machi insisted you needed warmth and no fresh air, your lungs couldn't handle it. So you think you're relapsing somewhat as you feel your stomach grumbling. 

Food comes at the same hours of the day. A random Hunter sets it down with an emphatic smile and locks you in the room once more. But this time, lunch isn't dropped off for you to be left to your own devices. Because someone else is walking through the door frame that leaves you with a bad feeling in your gut screaming at you to run. 

It's him. Your throat went dry, a lump forming as you attempted to speak, to argue for him to leave. The sound of the door slamming behind as he walks over with a plate in hand, makes you flinch. 

"Morning," Bates smiled, an empty grin that sent a chill down your spine. You hadn't seen him since he'd taken you from Uvogin, though as his eyes bore into you, you know they've been on you. 

You only nod, shuffling further back on your bed until you've grabbed the blankets to your front like a shield. You're up against the wall at the head of your bed, sitting upon plush pillows with dilated pupils carefully watching him approach. 

He's too close for your liking. And every inch of you freezes as Bates reaches out to rub his thumb along your cheek, and when you shy away, he frowns, "why do you fear me? Fight us trying to help you?"

"I didn't need help," you murmur, voice gravelly from the lack of using it. 

"It's sad, really." Bates sets down the plate of food on your side table, then pulls a chair over from the small table in the corner. It dragged, loud and destitute to your ears as you scowled, "why'd you have to give in?You can't really love him can you?"

"I do." You want to put up more of a fight but your hoarse voice and dimmed eyes do you nothing. Your response reeks of pity. 

"All the therapists from the Hunter's Association I've brought in for you- why don't they help? Why do they keep telling me they think your feelings are real? It's only Stockholm syndrome, you know."

"You don't know anything." you snap. 

"I don't?" he responds condescendingly. 

And he doesn't. 

Your mind goes rampant with memories you've shared with Uvogin, the only thing keeping you sane. Just daydreaming about how he cares for you with that shit eating grin, how you watch ridiculous reality tv together after a cooking fail. How since falling ill he never left your side- staying up with you through bloodied coughing fits, rubbing your back as you finally drift off to sleep. You miss his calloused, large, thick fingers prodding at your soft skin. You miss his gargantuan body compared to yours and how he envelopes your entirety. And you all but shudder thinking how you miss his giant cock filling you whole, turning you into nothing but a babbling, overstimulated mess. Now you're left falling asleep to his phantom touches praying you'd dream of him— that you'd awake to him saving you. 

"If he can take you and have you fall for him, then the same can happen for me. For us."

Your eyes widen, as dread whooshes through your body, "What are you talking about?" you sniffle, knuckles turning white from your involuntarily tightening grip on the blanket. 

"I'm going to marry you." 

"You don't know me.." 

Bates lets out a heavy sigh as he begins a monologue that seems to make matters even more real for you, "me and my men, we're not stupid. Five years ago we were formed to take down the Phantom Troupe, spending our lives training to amount to their skill. But to run in blind? Never. Three years now, we've followed them, learning all we can without them finding out. Shouldn't that show you why they haven't found us yet? We've outsmarted them, and you'll never see the monster that took you. That I can protect you."

"What.." 

"I had just started working as a Hunter with our group, on my second month tailing Uvogin when he took you. I was surprised that I hadn't known about you in my time watching. I felt as if I failed you, we should have been able to be more proactive to keep you from him. You're beautiful Y/N, so small and ethereal, kind and loving, and too good for that beast. He took you from all you know and love, I'll gladly bring you home to your family as your husband and make sure you keep the freedoms you once lost."

His words shake your core. "Y-you're insane." is all you manage to mutter out, "you've stripped me of my freedoms when you took me."

"This is all to keep you safe. Just give it more time, yeah?"

"No.."

"But isn't this what he did with you? Locked you away and now you gladly spread your legs for him?" Bates spat bitterly. 

"No, it's different." Maybe it wasn't. And that makes your chest tighten even more as you recount your first few days, to weeks to months with Uvogin. How scared you'd been while he was nothing but accommodating, gentle— patient. How he'd buy everything you loved from ice cream to books, desperately trying to gain your attention. But you enjoyed his humor, his roughness that made you find comfort in him. You're one who doesn't need human contact, you had no issue spending months in a room with no one but your books. And you did that for a while. Until, you found yourself enjoying his company. Uvogin's stupid commentary on movies or intrigue about your books, begging you to read to him. He gave you your space, let you do all your own cooking and tasks. Even let you out once in a while as long as you stayed by his side. Uvogin was different from the others with those they'd taken- he let you keep yourself- you. You remind yourself you love him, that it's genuine, especially based on the multitude of reactions from recent professionals coming by. Nothing had ever been forced between you and Uvogin after he'd taken you, which you battered him for occasionally, that he could have whisked you away in a more natural sense of things—

"It's not!" His anger from your sudden silence makes you jump. You hadn't realized minutes had gone by that he watched your frozen face with eyes seemingly miles away. "You're thinking about him."

"Let me go. Why risk all your lives for me? You know what's going to happen." You wanted to put on a brave face, trying to reason with him that the reality of this was bad. 

"Because I love you." 

Your mouth suddenly had a sour taste in it as your tongue licked along the backs of your front teeth. Holding your tongue you feel dejected, looking down, "Then let me go."

Bates's skin on yours felt wrong. You felt gross as his fingers danced along your skin, the wall behind you not letting you escape. With a knee on the bed, he's leaning over to you too fast for you to respond. His eyes hold nothing but disdain, a sickness that not even members of the Phantom Troupe hold. Or maybe you view them with rose colored glasses at this point as they're the ones Uvogin lets you around the most. But these Hunters, you hate them. 

"Get out." You try to say with as much strength as you can muster. Trying to make yourself appear angry, scary. 

He sighs, "No, not until-" and he kisses you all sloppy and wet. Trying to force his tongue into your mouth as you clamp your lips tight as possible, pushing against him, kicking at him. You're on fire as he tries to push forward, licking and nibbling along your bottom lip with grunts, unpleased grounds. He was stronger and tried to grasp parts of your body, tried to pull at your nightgown and you're suddenly able to pull yourself together. The adrenaline that courses through you allows you to kick him as hard as possible in the gut, the wind stolen right from his lungs as he stumbled back. Piercing eyes meet your gaze and as Bates struggles to breathe, he's back on you. 

Hand on your neck, fingers squeezing so the corners of your vision begin to blacken, throat wheezing for air. Your eyes spasm as you see a nasty grin go across the Hunter's face until— he lets go, suddenly, backing away. Like a switch was flipped he looked as if he was in despair,

"I- Y/N, I'm sorry." what the fuck, "I promise you this," His eyes narrowed, "I won't touch you until our wedding night."

And he spun on his heels, stopping only because you called out to him, "Hey! When.. When will we marry?"

"Hm, it takes a bit to plan a wedding and we need time to get further from the Troupe. Few months." He said it so casually, you hated it. 

You were breathing hard as he left. Your hair clung to your face and neck as sweat moistened your skin. Finally relaxed from the sound of the door locking from the other side. But you were far from safe. 

It was hard to focus. All you can do is think. Not caring for the food sitting just a foot away, your hunger is gone anyways. You feel invaded and hurt. Confused. Your mind is racing from the news you've received, at the worst case scenarios of it all. Imagining walking down the aisle to a man you don't love shakes you to the core, has you slumped over with half lidded eyes staring down. You'd anxiously bitten and torn your nails until they bled, your fingers looked ugly, you thought as you peered at them.  

You're tired, oh so tired. Your body needs the sleep that it's blatantly screaming for as it shuts down. The lack of sleep was getting to you as you worried your body is giving into your illness you worked so hard to rid of. You don't count the drugs they pump into you as a form of sleep. So when you're awake, you're vigilant and scared so you're forcing yourself to stay up until you can't any longer. The hairs stood tall on the back of your neck with nerves swarming in your stomach. 

Funny, maybe you're even flattered that two men have gone out their way to stalk you, to learn all about you to fall in love. To even kidnap you. But it was such a stark difference between Uvogin and Bates, at least in your mind.

Or is your mind playing tricks on you? The air that leaves your lips feels thick, your heart plummeting. No. It's different. It has to be. Because you're going cold, palms clammy as you're running through memory after memory. You hadn't doubted your feelings for Uvogin or the situation in years, not since the first time you told him you loved him— When you were 21, Uvogin took you when you were 20.

As you eventually give into sleep, you were left wondering when Uvogin or another Spider was going to come traipsing through the door. To take you back to the life you were beginning to mourn for.

-

Uvogin hit rewind once more; watching the video footage for the nth time with brows furrowed, and a silent rage evident through tensed muscles. Over and over Shalnark told him to quit how harshly he jabbed down on the mouse and keyboard alike, that he'd break them. But all Uvogin cared for were the figures on the dimmed screens. The ones clad in uniform that whisked you away. 

You begged them to leave you. Begged them not to touch you, that you were confused and scared of them bursting in. How you pushed them away shrinking into the corner of your shared room. The fear sparkling in your eyes evident even from the camera and it twists his chest tight, makes the air thick as if he's losing the will to breathe. The hairs of his skin stand tall, limbs shuddering in vexation that could not be calmed. 

How dare they. He'd kill every last one of them, let their blood stain the ground as their heads would ooze brain matter.

You were still recovering from a months-long battle with an illness that had you both nervous for your health. You needed your sleep, food even if you couldn't keep it down, and certainly no stress— in hindsight Uvogin knew he shouldn't have left for this job, Chrollo told him you came first but you were on the up! It was only supposed to be a few days! And now these mystery figures- he assumes Hunters- have taken you from him. 

And hours turned into days. Days that Shalnark, somehow, couldn't find you. Nobunaga had no leads from acquaintances of his. Others ranging from Feitan to Phinks to even Chrollo pitched in, but nothing. 

Which then turned into weeks. 

Fucking weeks that brewed a hatred— something worse than anger, or rage inside of Uvogin. 

The idea of a group of Hunters competent enough to outwit them, stay from their unending wave of influence— left unease in the air. Chrollo's priority shifted from treasure hunting to tracking the group. Day in, day out. All attention on the matter. As the Phantom Troupe was to be feared, to be untouchable from their heists to massacres.

"Uvo."

What date was it? Time mixed. He can't keep it straight. Another day that Uvogin sits in front of the damned computer watching the footage, his only way to keep your voice fresh in his mind. 

"Uvogin."

"What." He snapped. 

Nobunaga stood with sword at his side, clearly worried for his fellow Troupe member- and friend, "Ready to head out? Heard some rumblings from some acquaintances who are fighting their way up Heavens Arena. Figured we'd go."

And he's jumping at that, "Damn right. I'll let the boss know."

"Going to talk to Shal, see you in a few." The swordsman remarked, secretly glad to see a fire back in the beast of a man's eyes. The loud brute, someone passionate about a fight, had become a shell of himself.

"What are you readin' baby?" Uvogin gruffly asked as he watched you with a bored expression. 

You're focused on the e-reader he got you that he had Shalnark jailbreak, "Mm," You finish the page before setting it down, "A book Paku recommended, a romance actually."

"What'you need romance books for? You got me!" He teased.

Rolling your eyes you give him the most innocent look you can muster, "Because it's interesting, fun."

"Yeah yeah," and his focus went back to the television, adoring the moments he could catch you entranced by your books. Always looking so adorable as your eyes scanned the words- an occasional reaction to whatever was happening in the story. 

But you didn't return back to the e-reader. Your attention was on him, a pink blush rising to your cheeks as your core burned. The vivid imagery of the smut you'd read minutes prior burned into your head, affecting your body as your thighs rubbed together. Seeing Uvogin manspreading on the couch shirtless, without a care in the world, had you eating him alive with your eyes, wanting one thing. 

With a smile you pad over to him, him raising a brow as you dragged your right leg over his waist. You pushed against his chest to steady yourself, now straddling him. He looked at you with amusement in his eyes, his hulking hands pushing up the edges of your shirt to feel your skin. 

"Whatcha doing little one?"

"Who says I'm doing anything?" You giggle, fingers tracing his thick pectorals, "Wanted to see you."

"Could see me from your place over there," He was being difficult on purpose you know, it just made you more determined. 

Faking an annoyed sigh, you lean down to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, squeezing his shoulder to ground yourself. Your fingers cupped the side of his face tugging at his sideburns, letting the scratchiness take over your senses as your hips buck. You sighed out so sweetly and cutely each time your lips separate with his, and as you feel his cock grow against your warmth, electricity shudders through you. And you're now certain he knows what you were up to, as if he didn't know from the start. 

"Want something girl?"

Uvogin knew exactly what his little baby wanted. How your eyes were half lidded as your hips moved against him with silent pleas escaping the back of your throat you couldn't stifle. You were a needy thing, hazed with lust for him, wanting to be his little fuck toy. So he readjusts you on his lap so that you're cradling one of his large muscled thighs against your cunt. 

"Awh- Uvo!" you gasp from the contact, "pl-please want-"

"Don't worry not gonna torture you tonight with that," He lived for your reactions to him. Lived for how flustered you got from the idea of riding his thigh, but he had something else in mind, "love when you get so desperate for me, lucky for you I don't wanna wait."

"Uvo~"

"Now now," He grinned mercilessly as you gasped his name when he flipped you two, all 400lbs of muscle and 8-plus-feet of him towering over you, large palms on either side of your head. You were desperate for contact. Legs wrapping around his waist, just trying to buck your hips up against his growing bulge, "I know how pathetic you get once I got you like this, yeah?"

You nod shakily.

"And that's just how I like you, takin' me all desperate and stupid on my cock. You want that huh?"

"Yes yes Uvo," You stammer, tears welling in your eyes as he pushes his groin into you for friction. 

"Mm," He grunted as his gruff hands stripped your shirt from your tinier frame, tossing it to the side. Smirking at your lack of a bra, he began his slow onslaught of kisses along your chest, making his way to your breasts. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth, you're whimpering as he rolls the tiny bud along his tongue, swirling and sucking, nibbling. With a grunt he gives the other the same attention, pools of spit streaming down your chest as his spit laminated you, all warm and making your head swirl. 

All you can think about him. Him. Him. Him. Bucking your hips and mewling wildly, nothing on your mind, everything a blank white as you desperately require more contact with his cock on your core. 

"Stop moving." Uvogin grunted as your nails dug into his shoulders, "Gonna take these off." And he ripped the boxers that adorned your lower half, uncaring if the fabric took damage. He'd get you more if you wanted. Anything you wanted. 

Uvogin licked his middle finger as he fell back to his knees, leaving you naked to the elements and him alone. Carefully he runs the digit along your glistening wet slit, watching how you shiver from the ghostly touches. Already a mess for him, dripping onto the couch as he decided he'd start with two fingers now, you seemed wet enough! Just two fingers stretch you completely, one finger of his alone was larger than the cock you had for your first time as a teenager. So you were sobbing by that point as his two fingers slid in and out of your cunt, lewd squelching noises filling the room intertwining with your moans. And it was music to Uvogin's ears. 

You were melting like molten lava, the knots in your stomach unwinding as you felt a rush of a heavy orgasm coming over you. Your pussy spasming around his fingers, a cry leaving your lips as slick gush rushes from you and onto his hand and the fabric you lay upon. The joy you felt as he laughed calling you cute, made you feel good. So good your lips part and tug up at the corners.

Uvogin's next movements had your mouth watering. He slips off his shorts, his long and thick cock springing up into the air slapping against his upper stomach. Pre-cum leaks from the bulbous tip and you were suddenly reaching for it, to squeeze and tug to get him closer. 

"Wanna stuff you all full of my cock, need to." He grunted as he lined his thick cockhead with your entrance, prodding at it and teasing your clit with slick motions. Uvogin knew he should have prepped you more but a big piece of him lost control when you initiated sex. His mind goes blank over the fact your perfect self wants him. Put him in overdrive and he wants you to fill your pussy with his girthy cock that barely fits, bulges your stomach out as he has to force it to the hilt because his size shouldn't fit inside you. And oh how you cry so sweetly begging for him. 

"Please- please-" and he hasn't even begun to thrust into you and you were crying for him! 

Opening your legs further, resting the backs of your upper thighs onto his biceps he began to push his throbbing dick into your pretty, puffy pussy. Your tight walls always try to push the invasion of his thick length out, the intrusion breaking you down as tears felled from your lash line. Your legs shake, "Thank you Uvo- thank you- please fuck me- need your big cock in my tiny pussy-" 

"I know baby," Uvogin cooed, lining his hips up for a better angle before he finally slams all the way in. You stifle a silent scream, a pained yet pleasured moan as your eyes roll back in your head, a stupid, lips parted smile growing, "So fuckin' tight little girl, feel ya squeezin' me so good."

Uvogin leaned forward and tilted his head in such a way to capture your lips in a heated kiss through your whines. Your fingernails dug into his skin with more force as you tried to relax around him, though you knew it was futile, it always took your breath away expanding your insides when his cock entered you. Your poor gummy walls spasming around him trying to get his length out of you, your bundle of nerves on fire as you feel it down in your toes. 

He let you breathe for a second, giving you time to adjust. Because he knew you were all full of cock, probably feeling him in your damned stomach, oh how he smirked at the outline of himself in your abdomen sending chills down his spine. Even his cock still inside you, your lower stomach was expanded. You'd spasmed around him whining and whimpering, begging as flutters of pleasure shudder through your nerves, top to bottom. He loves admiring you like that. Being able to look at where you two are conjoined- seeing your tiny hole all stretched around him at your core- it doesn't look right. As if he'd split you in two with a dick with more girth than parts of your legs. 

"Breathe baby," Uvogin chuckled as he saw your eyes going white, tapping your cheek with his index finger to get your attention. 

So he pulled out just an inch, letting you gasp for air as you came back down to earth with his bulbous tip no longer forcing its way into your cervix. Blinking furiously, your breathing returned as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "You can move- need you,"

"That's my good girl." Immediately he braced himself as his hips rose, cock just pulling out of you as your gummy walls clench back to normal. Feeling empty you go to whine in discontent, but his cock slammed back down into you, splitting you with velvet wrapped steel as all that can escape you is empty moans. The pace was faster than normal, that had you seeing stars. Crying how it was 'too much!' 

Your poor overstimulated cunt convulsed around his cock as an orgasm ripped through you, moans and the sound of slapping skin ringing in the living room. Uvogin was practically pleading about how well you took him, how tight you were, as he drilled into you fucking you through your high. 

With hazy eyes you look at him as you clench even more from all his praises. His cock felt so good throbbing inside your soaking pussy that coated him in your cream due to the bliss filled pain.

"Fucking cockwhore, you know that? Just a dumb little fuck toy for me to use. You love this don't you?" Uvogin grunted, losing himself in the pleasure of your clenched gummy walls around his hard length. He was doing everything to keep himself from finishing right then, wanting to enjoy this a bit longer. But you were practically comatose- with tears falling down your cheeks and dumb cries falling loosely out your lips. He was sure you don't even know what's going on at the moment, the pleasure overwhelming your shaking form as he forced another orgasm out. Uvogin knew all your spots- knew how to curve his hips in every position to hit just the right spot, that sensitive bundle of nerves that was always your undoing. And how you silence with a scrunched nose and spasming eye, he knew he was doing his job. 

You mindlessly nod, bliss painted on your fucked out face as you hoped it was enough of an answer. Because you loved this. Wished he could fuck you until you were a babbling incoherent mess all the time— because you didn't need to think or worry, just feel the pleasure he gives you while his lips pattered your skin with sloppy kisses.

"Gonna cum baby, gonna cum in my pussy," Uvogin fell forward onto his forearms as he crushed his mouth against yours. Giving several long thrusts more only to break away as he cums so hard his vision whites out, grunting like he was seeing heaven. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim; hot, thick liquid coating your insides as your hips jerked against his. He rested his forehead to yours, both your heavy breaths intertwining, "I love you," Uvogin whispered, "And I love you," you return, hugging him close and tight as possible.

Uvogin missed you. He heard your voice everywhere. Saw your beautiful face everywhere. It was naive of him to daydream about you walking back through the door and into his arms. The way the Hunters handled you, uncaring for your safety from the start, he knew they'd never let you go back to him. He needed to get to you.

He honestly thinks he's dying. As if a piercing blade traced along every inch of his skin in an itchy fury, and a hole permanent in his chest. A piece of him was quite literally missing. You. 

A trail of bodies have since been left in the wake of your kidnapping. Anyone with deduced association to those who took you were found, tortured by Feitan, and eventually killed when they had nothing useful. Anger was something Uvogin was known for, his brash personality, and that devilish smirk. He never backed down from a fight and that included finding you. So nobody had seen him like this. Stressed. Lashing out at his fellow members in ways he would never have dreamed. An empty shell. As if having you taken from him set him on a path of chronic suffering, a chest as if its heart had been ripped out. 

"We'll find her," Nobunaga's voice finally reached Uvogin's ears. 

Uvogin laid on a small cot staring up at a cracked popcorn ceiling, eyes tracing the zagging dark lines. He's too in his head, he knew it, "Yeah, today wasn't too bad." 

It took the pair a week to get to the Republic of Padokea, then a few days to arrive in the city where Heavens Arena was housed. The bustling city could have been a risk for the two, but it was the crowds of bizarre people alike heading to watch battles that helped blend them in. No one bat an eye at two men who looked to be fighters- and no one batted an eye when bodies randomly showed up. 

"Mac said he's gonna keep his ears open. Never know who comes through that Arena," Nobunaga said, referring to their productive conversation with an old associate, "We'll get back and let the boss know."

For the first time they had a trail to follow giving the large man hope during a time of unending night.

-

THREE MONTHS LATER

There was a heavy thickness to the air as you were prepared for the night. Sitting upon a stool as hair and makeup was tended to, whilst you're adorned in a white dress that engulfs you in tulle flowing about. As if it weighed a hundred pounds, it was a burden upon your shoulders even from the light fabric that went down your arms. You can hardly breathe from the tight bodice that forces your cleavage out the top. The image of yourself in the vanity mirror is someone you hardly recognize— a bruise along your cheekbone, heavy bags under your reddened eyes, pale skin from lack of sun. The only signs of life on your face was the blush painted on your cheeks and the shimmer on the corner of your eyes. Your eyes sting from the white liner drawn onto the waterline, and from the prior attempts at eye shadow. With each movement of the lady that stood above you, more of your hair tugged at and curled causing pain to your scalp. Everything was on fire inside of you. Everything hurt, a dread— a deep depression of abandonment and the reality of being left. 

You can hear commotion all around, rushing footsteps and commanding voices. Occasionally from the corner of the mirror you can see a Hunter peak in, nodding and speaking into what you imagine to be a phone. For all you really want in the midst of the wedding day preparations is to cry. You don't want to be in the gaudy-fucking dress Bates picked out that makes you look like a ridiculous fairy, with makeup and hair you despised. You're backed up against a wall, hopeless and preparing yourself for a life of misery- as dramatic as it seemed. Each day your hope of Uvogin being your knight in shining armor dwindled. Every loud noise you'd think it was him bursting in to save the day. 

You're scared. Fingernails digging into your palms, uncaring if you drew blood. Because with each passing moment pushed you closer to walking down the aisle to Bates. 

How could you feel pretty like this? All done up in something you'd have never chosen, all for a reason you didn't want. You felt ugly, a horrendous monster up on the hill to be ogled at. 

Each step you take as you were ushered out of the room, is a step further into the unknown as your pulse races. Your eyes frantically look for signs, for anything, for anyone. 

The last three months, four months total, with Bates and his Hunters had been your own hell. Constantly dazed and confused- vulnerable. Sick, lonely, forced to move constantly. Surrounded by weapons and learning intimate details about yourself that Bates knew- was terrifying. How obsessed he was with you, clear he had zero respect for you, viewing you as nothing but a possession. The bruise on your face showed such, and it was only the tip of the iceberg of the ones hidden by your dress. For his promise to never touch her until their wedding had been a lie, though never sexual, you were assaulted at any turn where you messed up. A thin scar along your left inner wrist furthermore proved the pain you'd endured. 

Tears well in your lashes as you descend a grand staircase, how you ended in this abandoned castle in the countryside in good shape, was beyond you. With hushed voices and rushed movements under the guise of night, you awoke in a canopied bed within a stone walled room with tattered tapestries.

Feeling as if you're walking to your death, you frantically look for a way out. If you had the chance to throw yourself over a balcony or out a window.

Eyes were on you. 

People turned away to whisper. 

You recognize nobody. And all you want to do is shrink into your wedding dress to disappear. A part of you wondered if your family would actually be here like Bates promised- you doubt it though. You hadn't seen them in years. 

"Miss Y/N," a Hunter approached you and the women leading you through the castle. You'd seen him plenty before, and you didn't like him, "come with me," his tone serious and you can't argue. 

The Hunter shooed the women from you, telling you to follow him through an onslaught of maze like hallways. You can't keep track of where you came from anymore. Stomach to the floor, legs like jello wondering what the stoppage was. 

You'd normally be more conscious, but you'd been broken down to where your senses no longer proved helpful. Once able to memorize footsteps and the simplest of movements from a person- you were too exhausted now. As if your fight / flight left. 

A section of the castle you hadn't seen before, it's back at the top where you seemingly started. Hunters lounging in what felt like a tower where someone would be left to rot becoming a shell of themselves. The week they'd spent at the once abandoned, hauntingly huge stack of stones- the poor maids must have been worked to death to get it to the level of clean it was currently at. You felt terrible. This was all because of you. 

"In here." 

"I- don't want to." You mustered to say. 

"In." A command. 

You hate how pathetic you'd become. But you were smart to know obedience meant surviving. A tiny room with armchairs and an empty armoire, dimmed and flickering light. 

Head in your hands, defeated, but more relaxed as this change in plans was pushing back your impending marriage... nonetheless you felt defeated. Numb. Tired as your eyes felt heavy. You'd come to terms primarily, or were forcing yourself to all whilst dreaming of Uvogin day and night. You'd suffer if it meant living another day with the possibility of seeing him one more time. 

As your mind raced, overthinking into the abyss and not catching onto the previously panicked voices before you'd been locked away in that room— you weren't prepared for the sudden assault of commotion. 

BANG. 

You flinched brain rewiring, mind on high alert within seconds, dizzied from how quick you rose from the armchair. With vision spotted black, you attempted to open the door that kept you from the noise. What was that? It was silent now aside from the clacking of the lock that wouldn't budge no matter how hard you tugged. 

With a determination to figure out what it was, you raced to the barred window as if there'd be clues outside. But nothing. Just dark clouds with a looming moistness to the air, signifying a coming storm. 

Gunshots. It had to be. Because your blood ran cold the instant you heard the loud clap and then the cries. Loud yells of shrieking girls and of commanding booming voices. Panic ensued outside. 

Then it hit you. 

Is it them... Him? 

Hope rushed into your core. A gleeful explosion in your chest as a giddiness shuddered through you from head to toe, nerves making your stomach drop. The sudden need to get out of the room had you desperate looking for anything to aid you. Though you freeze, knowing better. Uvogin always warned you to stay put if something ever happened with you around, explaining he'd be devastated in himself or any Spider accidentally hurt you. So like the obedient girl you always were for Uvogin, you go back to sit, and listen.  As if your brain and body acted out of an involuntary familiarity. 

Listening to grunts, hacking up of what you assumed to be blood- the whipping of thin metal had you sitting on the edge of your seat. Thuds and squelching make nauseas and bile rise in your throat, that you desperately tried to swallow down. Your stomach lurched as footsteps sounded from the opposite side of the door. And it was then you wonder, if this would be your end or your rescue. 

Holding your breath, you wait, the air around you going numb as a high pitched buzzing takes over your senses. Heart thumped in your ribcage as the door rattled, only to slam open with a flash of orange and smoke. A tall, thin figure was all you could make out as you squint. 

Your eyes widened, it took you a second to recognize the dark haired man that was now showcased from the small light of the room, "Nobu?"

"Well shit," He smiled, relieved and surprised as he re-sheathed his blade, "Look at you all dressed up!" 

You couldn't even begin to try to stifle your smile, "No way.." You want to cry, cry and throw your arms around Nobunaga to thank him over, and over. But your thoughts were on your lover, "I-is he here?"

"Yep, so let's get you out of here and to him." But then his brows furrowed, "Your cheek, who did that?"

As he approached, offering a hand to help you up, you were springing with joy that you didn't even feel or care about the marks all over your body, "Bates." 

"The Hunter trying to marry you?" Nobunaga does a once over of you, needing to know how many of the Troupe members needed to hold Uvogin back based on how many marks were visible. 

"You know about that?" You whisper. 

"It's how we found you. He got lazy, Shal got a hold of a wedding invitation." 

"I see.. there's more bruises that my dress covers." You wouldn't lie. Couldn't lie. This was Uvogin's closest friend, someone you trusted implicitly as well. 

"Uvo's trying to find Bates right now. He's.. uh, not one you wanna deal with right now."

"How is he?" 

"Fucking terrible," For a second you'd have thought Nobunaga was trying to crack a joke, but his eyes were dark, "He's been looking for months, losing his mind, worried." You nod, sadness fills you, but Nobunaga grabs your shoulders forcing you to look at him, "I know you're probably angry, but don't be. He's ran himself into the ground to get you back. Eventually started down the road you'd died until Shal got a breakthrough basically saving him from destitute..."

"Y-You don't know what's happened to me here to just be okay..." You sniffled, as if trying to argue that you had a right to be frustrated and you should be able to express it, not stifle. 

"Then let's go give Bates and his Hunters what they deserve, what they get for messing with the Troupe." 

Were you ready to see him? You had many questions. Then there was the part of you that was angry, betrayed in a sense, but overall feelings of relief overwhelmed you. To know Uvogin never gave up made up for the last four months, that he hadn't forgotten about you. So your core welled with excitement, a rush of electricity that made your skin crawl. 

Has Nobunaga always been this gentle with you? Or had you not realized how bad of a state you were really in. Because you'd changed. And you never realized it, never given the opportunity. You were skin and bones at that point, cheekbones sharp, any fat was gone as your body used all it could for energy. Flushed skin- sickly. Your movements slower than you'd realized as the swordsman had to guide you beside him, help you keep your footing. And it was when you see Feitan, Phinks, and Machi standing yards from the door outside- you realize it was bad. Because they looked at you as if you were a ghost, in a way that made any remaining color drain. Because Feitan would never show surprise with how his eyes widened then brows furrowing. And Phinks stopped himself mid sentence it seemed as his mouth hung open. 

Machi was at your side immediately, as she'd been the one to care for your health throughout the years. Once you had weekly check ups where she'd investigate your body to tell Uvogin you were healthy and not hurting yourself. You'd hated those checkups, hated how it took away any options of self harm because Uvo made it seem like the consequences wouldn't be worth it, that it was only to be careful. Then somehow you'd managed to grow closer to the closed off woman when you fell deathly ill. She'd stayed in the guest room and suddenly having a girl around seemed like the greatest gift. You wanted to hug her as she grabbed your wrist with pursed lips.

"Where are you hurt?" Machi demanded. 

"I don't... know. Everywhere?" You stammered as your eyes grew moist. 

"You're not well.. at all." She said under her breath, "need to get you out.."

"What?"

Machi never answered many questions in general so you realized she wouldn't now. But you felt an odd sense of comfort that you assumed to be her nen, "Nothing. Come on." 

Your surroundings moved quickly. The four members of the Troupe that'd found you surrounded you in a protective manner. Your body felt so heavy, your legs like molten lava that wanted to sink to the ground. Oh- The ground sounded so good. Cold. A place to fall in a heap, let the ceiling swirl. Your thoughts grew oh so hazy as you were about to trip when- 

Phinks suddenly grabbed you, pulling you behind him as Nobunaga's sword unsheathed. In horror you watch as he effortlessly beheads two men with guns, Feitan following suit snapping the neck of someone else. You think you're going to hurl. Uvogin never lets you see violence to this level. Legs wobbling, you want to hide. The corners of your vision is bubbling with black spots. 

"Hey don't give out on us now, don't wanna get my ass chewed out by Uvo if you get hurt on our watch." Phinks grunted, his rough hands pulling your bicep hard enough to shake you back down to earth. 

You nodded slowly, "I-" 

"We're moving too slow." Feitan snapped. 

Nobunaga shot the short man a look, "I'll carry her,"

"No.. m' fine-"

An explosion shattered the air. 

"Shit."

"Y/N, stay here. Don't move." Nobunaga demanded as the others darted off with lightning speed. 

"What was that?" You asked as your heart rate spiked. 

There was turmoil in Nobunaga's eyes as he tried to decide his best course of action, "Stay here, we've already cleared surrounding areas so nobody should stumble on you. Besides doubt they want you dead." And he left you on that note. 

Left you standing there in a circular opening of a hallway feeling ridiculous. Alone. Vulnerable as you rubbed along your arms glancing around. A stench came from the far side which you caught red out of the corner, and against your better judgement you moved closer. Human remains smashed to mush. Bile rising up in your throat as your body swayed, you desperately tried to stay conscious. Until-

BANG. Then a roar- a resonating battle cry that made the ground shake- and a smile split your lips. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. A chorus of sweet symphony tickled the back of your brain. Like a hundred pound weights lifted off your chest for the first time in months. 

Uvogin. 

For a second you weren't sure if you should continue. Each step forward brought broken walls and destroyed bodies, old paintings smashed into the floors. Blood smeared and spattered. Your stomach churned, but the thought of seeing Uvogin allowed you to continue moving with a false sense of bravery. You weren't scared of him but you were scared of coming into contact with someone you shouldn't. What awaits you past each corner's a mystery, one that'd make your heart leap from your chest, you'd jump at each noise cursing yourself for not listening to Nobunaga. Because maybe you are scared to see Uvo. To see him in his element as the giant monster who reveled in violence. 

Your lungs hurt as the air grew dense. You felt a coughing fit coming over you as searing pain like a hot iron branded your chest. 

Heaving as you stumbled down a flight of stairs, heart pounding trying to keep your footing to not end up at the bottom of the staircase. Landing as gracefully at the bottom, pushing yourself up against a banister that looked downwards to an open foyer, you choke back a sob as you finally see him. All 8 feet 6 inches of him with flexed muscles, hair back in a messy bun- and you didn't care in the slightest about the blood soaked into his white tee-shirt. A devious, murderous aura surrounded him as a sickening grin was on his face as he had a group cornered. But all you saw was the finest man the world could offer as your breath was whisked away. To know you weren't scared of him like this made your heart alight with intense love- 

"Uvo!"

You'd just celebrated your 20th birthday last night with friends, wobbling into work later than you'd have liked. The bakery you worked for smelled of fresh bread, tart cherries, and an overly sweet note that made your stomach churn. You wrinkled your nose through the fog of your state, rubbing at your eyes and not noticing a familiar figure. He frequented your place of work, was large and you're not sure how a person like him exists. You brighten as you see him, his smile making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Uvogin wandered in one day and you hadn't realized that months down the line it would change your life. 

Because it was when the man you were seeing came in, unfortunately at the same time as Uvogin. Uvogin's smile faltered, chest alighting in flames of anger as his fists clenched. He didn't know about this boyfriend. And how he wished you a late happy birthday, brushing hair behind your ear set him loose. 

Blood splattered. You were shocked, frozen as you attempted to register what'd happened. Mind and body working overdrive to comprehend, but before it set in, your body went limp. 

That wasn't how he wanted to take you. He wanted you to fall in love with him naturally, then keep you close and safe, and happy. So he winced each time you screamed and cried, yelling at him that he was a monster. Uvogin was lenient though, understanding and more aware than most- a smart man who wanted you to realize you had your basic freedoms to be yourself with him. That the man you'd gotten to know at the bakery was still the man you kidnapped you! He believed you'd see it soon. 

And you did. You were clearly independent, uncaring if you had human contact he learned quickly. Which he hated as he'd sit outside your door just to get a glimpse of you- he was the desperate one. It took him bringing you an ereader for you to converse with him. Small thank you's or telling him about the current read. 

Soon you were craving his touch, his large hands along your skin, massaging your scalp— even kissing down your shoulder. Your mind blocked out all the kitchen utensils you'd once thrown at him in a futile effort to hurt him. Your mind blocked out the way you kicked and screamed when he locked you in his room so he could watch you finally sleep with danger in his eye that made you shrink. Your mind blocked out the emptiness and the fear he made you feel whilst you learned of his profession. And yet it was all replaced by the laughs he gave you, the presents, the tender touches, all the love- because no one ever made you feel as wanted or as loved as Uvogin did. He genuinely cared for you and you soon realized your feelings were the same, your life without him would be full and without meaning. 

A year since he'd taken you, you'd tell him you loved him after baking his favorite pastries. You'd always remember the way his pupils dilated and mouth dropped open, the flakey dough in his hand falling to the table top. How he was across the kitchen to capture you in a hot kiss, mumbling sweet nothings as he took you to bed for your two's first time together.

You were already sobbing as you willed yourself to get his attention, trying to call out his name louder than prior.

"Uvo!" You yelled, voice too scratchy that it hardly carried with the chaos amongst them. 

He couldn't hear you, you were far up and he was too focused on killing the men in the corner. And you realize something that brought you joy, one of them had curly blonde hair- Bates.

"Where is she?" Uvogin's voice booms up, sounding like music to your ears, "M' losin' my fucking patience here. Got me on the hunt for months."

"You won't have her," Bates was shaking in his boots but still attempted to remain stoic, strong, "She's mine now."

"Yeah yeah, yours. I'm sure." Uvogin laughed from the deep of his belly, "Give me a break. How well ya work with me here will depend on how you meet your eventual end. Slow and painful, or nice and quick?"

Bates motioned for the two Hunters besides him to move forward, to close the gap to entertain a fight. No longer do you see the confidence the cocky group who took you once had. Reality finally set in with what they'd gotten involved with- because you'd learned their bragging of stalking the Phantom Troupe was embellished to an extent. The reason the Phantom Troupe couldn't find them was because they'd been that irrelevant, the only reason the game of cat and mouse went on for so long. 

You don't want to watch but you can't bring yourself to tear your eyes off of Uvogin. How big his muscles were as he flexed, grabbing one of the hunter's heads, slamming into the ground, a ghastly crunch as blood splattered up. He was a graceful predator as he lunged at the other, who was then dead within seconds from the same. Your knees locked, wishing you'd looked away as you slowly sank to the ground. Fingers trembling as you stare through spotted vision. Tears stream down your cheeks as you hiccup out pathetic sobs. Gasping as you clutched at your chest, crumpling into a ball on your knees. It hurt. So much. 

What made you stand to continue, to find a way down to him was the fact you realized it hurt more being away from Uvogin. You couldn't handle another moment outside of his general proximity. 

A narrow hallway leads downwards a spiral stairwell, which you take one step at a time letting your fingers glide against the cold wall as if keeping you steady. Your body is hot and it's that coldness keeping you grounded as your footsteps echo, eyes darting about to look for a way to the room where Uvogin and Bates were. Uvogin's voice made it easier, never once could he be a quiet man and it made your heart swell. You'd be back in his arms in moments! And you weren't sure from how full your chest and lungs were if you wouldn't make it mere seconds more. 

Time transfixed as you stepped into a room reeking of iron and musk, your tiny heels clicking on the tiles, heavy pain shooting up your legs begging for reprieve. Your exhausted body from the months of wear and tear felt like it'd give out any moment, only your will keeping you upright. 'Uvo, Uvo, Uvo,' your thoughts chanted over and over. You dreamed of you two reuniting. Dreamed of him saving you like a knight in shining armor, how emotional and loving it would be. 

The two men don't notice you right away. Uvogin had Bates by the neck, pushed up against the wall with a menacing look pulling at his lips. 

You collapsed for what feels to be the nth time, overworking your body down to the bone. Pure adrenaline and emotions being the only thing to push you through. But you think you've gone and run out, all empty. With a huff you wipe at the tears still falling, just praying he'd notice as you whimpered his name over and over. But Uvogin was hot in the face, seething and speaking murderous nonsense to Bates, waiting for his fellow members. 

"I ain't killing you yet, you're gonna be spending some sweet time with our number two," Uvogin chuckled, his words sinister.

You know what that means. 

Palms flat on the ground as you regulate your short gasps. 

Uvogin's body tensed as a chill ran down his spine, he'd gone deathly silent amongst the chaos. Grip on Bates's neck loosening just a smidge to allow a ghastly noise from the hunter's throat. 

"Uvo.." You mewl silently, silently begging him to see you. 

Uvogin's eyes were on you, finally. His hands let go of Bates, who fell to the ground with a loud crack as he shrieked from a newly broken ankle amidst gasping for air from a bruised trachea. 

"Y/N?" Bates' screams were lost on Uvogin as he took slow, heavy steps toward you. There was disbelief on his face twisted with utter sadness. As if you were a ghost, he was scared, hesitant to approach you, slowing limbs. He towered over your frame, a moistness in his eyes as he looked over every piece of skin he could see. 

"Hi," You shakily sigh, relief filling your body up like it'd spill over. Looking up at him attempting to muster the cute smile he loved so much while seeing the devastation written across his. That pang in your chest knowing, but thankful, he suffered like you. 

Uvogin dropped to his knees, you in arm's length to him as inches of air exist between you, as if he was nervous to touch you. But he couldn't wait any longer as he knew it was you in front of him and not some apparition. You relax, shudder out an 'oh' as his calloused palm rests against your cheek, his thumb stroking your soft skin. His touch set you aflame as you whimpered, pushing your head further into his hand. 

"Oh my girl- my sweet baby," Uvogin grabbed your waist, finally, pulling you to his lap to hold you close with speed and little strength so as not to harm you. He could feel your increasing amount of tears through his shirt as your fingers gripped the fabric, "M' here now, I got you."

"U-Uvo!" You weep into his chest. Hiccuping and sniffling as tears soaked the large man's shirt. 

His large hand pets your hair, his other cradling you to him like you'd disappear any second. Large muscles corded so tight he may explode, emotions that'd been pent up for so long expelling. Uvogin's nen aura raged around him, around the room and expanding past the perimeter of the old castle. It was all enough to kill anyone who felt it out of fear, but in a way it was a comfort to feel his intensity, to know your protector was holding you. 

You're shaking; cold and exhausted, and finally your body and mind knew it was safe. Subconsciously, in the sense that it could finally shut down. Finally leave its survival mode you'd been running on for months. 

Through all the joy blossoming in your chest your limbs felt like lead. Your mind began to whir a million different ways like you were stuck in place but jostled around at the same time. 

"Uvo?" You sound so meek, so sick to him that as he cradled your cheek he could feel, see the weight loss and starvation that had set in. The sickly tint to your skin. Chapped lips. Dead eyes. 

His gaze fierce as he took in your limp state as you numbly stared at him, a crooked grin on your lips as your consciousness began to lull. 

"Hey, stay with me." Uvogin couldn't demand that of you but he still did. He still pressed his warm lips to your frigid ones, electricity igniting in both of your bodies. Desperation as your lips mesh and tongues entangled before your head nods back, eyes fluttering closed. 

But soon his voice goes gruff, hoarse as he calls your name. Trying not to shake you. Trying to stay calm as he cradled you bridal style, picking you up because he needed to get you out of this wretched place where another man tried to marry you. Were you breathing? He was hooked on watching your chest rise and fall, certain death gnawing at his mind if the time between breaths went too long. Only you could make his bloodlust become irrelevant towards the hunter as Nobunaga took over to haul Bate's limp body. 

Uvogin ignored the pitied looks from the other members. He only found reprieve as Chrollo expressed his support to do all in his power to help. And the understanding between him and Feitan that the normal torturer who worked alone would allow the brute to sit in.

-

When you slowly came to, your eyes burned and your lungs cried out for reprieve as you clawed at the air. Your fingers caught with something long as a sudden jolt of pain from your arm traveled upwards. It was dark, but a single light served as your beacon back to the land of living. Gasping for air, like breathing was a chore, like it hurt your lungs and heart and throat to do so. Through blurry vision you're waving a hand in front of your face trying to count the fingers.

The ground comes too fast and too hard. You'd overestimated trying to gain composure upon where you laid and overshot it. Now you laid on cold tiles pushing up to your knees.

Where are you? Was this a room at the primary Phantom Troupe base? You'd been once prior out of pure necessity. The lack of a window in the room seemed to support your thoughts. Because it came rushing back as soon as you thought about the Spiders. Uvogin. That whole sham of a wedding they'd stopped. Sobs wrench from your throat at how you were saved and somewhere the man you loved was doing gods knows what.

Why wasn't he glued to your bedside? Frustration bubbled up your chest and into your throat, a sour taste left in your mouth. There you stood taking count of yourself, only in socks and a thick cotton gown, blood trickling down your arm from where the discarded IV had been. 

On replay was 'to find Uvo.' Nothing else mattered. So clumsily you began your search, opening the door with a creak, a cold moist air hitting you smack in the face. Dim lights line the dark stone walls and faintly, so faintly you wonder if you're imagining it, you hear noise. If this was the same Base Uvogin once brought you too, it felt uncanny and more off-putting, like you were deeper underground. A sense of entrapment and claustrophobia setting in as you padded along the cold cement, clearly that of a basement. And clearly you'd been kept in the only semblance of a normal room to receive medical attention. The air grows evil- the only way to describe it as a chill runs down your spine. Your gut feeling is you're walking into a dangerous situation, forcing you to wonder some more if you really did get rescued. 

A flickering lamp. Dingy paint job spattered the walls that already began peeling. A lone door calling for you to come closer. 

There were voices on the other side of the steel door. A door where blood stained the ground heading in, where nail marks tainted the stone making your stomach churn. Beyond that door must have been where torture was conducted, by Feitan, so you assume he'd kindly point you in Uvo's direction. 

The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. Your insides screamed at you to turn, to run, not to open the door that reeked of death. 

But you did anyway. 

Five bodies turn upon the sound. There was a man tied to the chair in the center, one that's almost unrecognizable. Almost. A litany of strange devices and tools sit strewn out throughout the room; on walls and tables. 

Uvogin stared wide eyed, "Fuck. Fuck." His confusion morphed to utter joy. A giant grin pulled at his lips as your gazes connected and it was as if the universe collided at that moment. One big galaxy of sparkling stars that shone around the man you loved. 

"Uv-" The reunion as Uvogin began his way over to you was cut short as you took in Bates, Feitan stood next to him with pliers. You gag, clamping a hand over your mouth. Skin, bones, some teeth, hair, and god knows what more litter at Bates's feet pooled in both dry and fresh blood.

Strong arms scoop you up and soon you're rushed out the room, the door reverberating on its hinges as it slammed. The medicinal scent you missed earlier became overwhelming as the surroundings you woke up to, surrounded you once more. 

Uvo was laughing at that point, hugging you as he spun your weak frame. "Y'finally awake baby thank fuck. Been goin' stir crazy."

You're swirling, nauseas, "U-Uvo," You squeak and your voice hardly sounds like your own. But you try to hug him back around his neck, your legs flailing before they connect with the ground. 

Uvogin dropped to his knees to be closer to eye level with you, his warmth enveloping you so intently you moved closer. Close as you could physically be as your hands comb along his shoulders- to his neck- to his cheeks where you squish and trace along his features. He watched you so patiently with a soft look, smirking as his hands squeezed your waist in reassurance. It grounded you, let you forget about the gruesome scene you'd walked in on moments ago.

"You're here." You whisper. 

"You're here." He countered. 

"I'm here." A large hand engulfed the side of your face, you nuzzled into it, "I'm not dreaming?"

"I fuckin' hope not."

Letting out a shaky breath you murmur, "Missed you. I stayed strong."

"Damn proud of you. Did so good."

You almost keel over at his words as they send shivers down your spine. His praise was music to your ears. Pink washes over your cheeks, flushing down your neck.

"Let's get you off your feet, Machi will kill me if she finds out you were up and walkin' around." Uvogin's world revolved around you from the second you met. He knew every tell of yours and how to make you tick. He knew when you were genuinely happy or sad, or even when you were holding back. Like a line tethered you two he could almost feel your exhaustion and worries. He saw the sickness wreaking havoc on your smaller frame, one that was all bone and skin. 

Uvogin situated you in his lap where he perched on the bed leaning against the wall. Your side glued to his chest where your head could slot perfectly into the crook of his neck. Yet you opted to stay looking at him to take his face in like you'd never see it again. His eyes intently staring into yours speaking a thousand words that could never be relayed by mouth. 

"I started worrying," He clicked his tongue, "That you wouldn't wake up, no matter what Machi said. Seeing you laying there like a fuckin' dead person killed me because, how's some pathetic hunter gonna claim he loves you but let you rot away. Machi said you were pumped so full of drugs over the months waiting for them to be flushed out was gonna take awhile."

"How long was I out for?" You cringed, remembering pieces of what you'd endured. 

"Week, Machi thought it'd be longer. That's why... thought I could step out for a few hours..." You knew he was referring to the torture session, "Of course you'd wake up the one time I leave for more than 30 minutes, sorry you had to see that babe."

You shake your head, "S'Okay. I'm okay, don't want to think about it."

"You don't gotta right now but- I wanna know everything they did to ya. We're keeping him alive til' we know."

Want fills your core, bursts of warmth within you and you're pressing your lips to his. You choke out a pleasured sob from the feeling. From the delight. From your shivers of emotion you couldn't understand. "Want to know about everything you did too. Thought about you so much, imagining when you'd come and get me. I worried- I know you're strong but couldn't stand thinking you got hurt somehow and I wouldn't know."

Uvogin pulled you back in by the back of your neck, his kiss bruising compared to your delicate one. A kiss filled with desperation and fear, that Uvogin needed to feel to taste that you were in his arms. He needed you to feel through the kiss how much he loved you, how thankful he was. 

"You don't worry about me." He pressed his forehead to yours, "I would have turned every city upside down to get to you. Nothing would have stopped me, only death. I feared the state I'd find you in..." 

Tears drip down your lash line. 

"I won't fail you again." He said with determination that made you shiver, that nestled so deep down into your bones you knew it to be true. God bless anyone's hearts if they try something with you in the future. 

"It wasn't your fault." 

"But it is. Supposed to protect you, didn't realize we were targets. Got too comfortable I guess." His large hands prod and stroke along your skin. 

You watched the storm that raged within his features and you allowed him to think while you went back and forth within yourself. Do you admit you felt abandoned at times? That you're angry? Or would that upset him and he'd punish you... That struck a nerve. You couldn't remember the last time you worried how your words or actions or feelings would lead to a punishment. Your mind swirls about the things Bates said to you but a wall stacks right back up, you push the intrusive and wrong thoughts away. Bates had tried to plant little seeds of doubt within you, because you'd been so happy with Uvogin prior. That was it. 

"You tensed up baby, what's wrong?" 

"I-"

"Take your time."

That was the Uvogin you knew. Not just the rowdy big man. One that understood, was patient with you. "I just... So many thoughts keep coming at me. Haven't been in my right mind in so long, I was always being forced to take things so I wouldn't know my surroundings. Half the time I felt empty like... my head was empty."

Uvogin's grip tightened, "Bastard."

"I don't even know if I can tell you everything, because I don't know if I know it all. If that- makes sense."

"It does. Maybe it'll come back, maybe it won't but nothing is too insignificant."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not sure yet. But it don't concern you, you're safe and I'm keeping you out of it. I ain't leaving your side unless absolutely necessary." 

You could only nod, butterflies flitting in your chest as you reached to grab his right hand, pulling it to your lap. He let you trace along his palm, squeeze and massage his fingers until you deemed it enough. His fingers engulfed yours as they intertwined. 

"They primarily left me alone." You wanted to, no need to tell Uvo the things on your mind while they were fresh. So then later if you remembered more the pieces could fall into place and you didn't want to carry it alone, "At first Bates tried- he tried to be with me, told me I couldn't truly love you. I tried so hard to get him off me but he kissed me and I just remember flailing and eventually he backed off. Said he wouldn't touch me again until our wedding night." If words could kill, Uvogin would have been broken on the ground from the anger that overwhelmed him. Such a petrifying aura but you squeezed the hand in yours as tight as possible, but easier knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. "Otherwise they only ever got violent when we switched areas, like I was the plague or something they needed to eradicate how I felt about you." You move your arm to show him the scar on your wrist, then next the litany of bruises your dress covers.

"Saw all that." Uvogin grumbled. 

"Uvo?"

"Yeah?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Course you can, just me."

"I..." You closed your mouth, you still had time to back down. But you couldn't. You suffered. You'd been violated in more ways than one and he needed to know your fears, your current grudge. "Thought, at times, after so long you... weren't coming." Your words were hardly above a whisper, your insides thrashing as you slowly said a feeling that persisted during those four months.

He was almost too quiet for your taste. Left you chasing your panic on how to fix the situation, how you'd calm him down. 

His jaw locked. 

"I'm sorry baby." 

You could breathe. A comforted exhale of your distress leaving you, made you feel foolish for ever doubting him. 

"I assumed you'd feel that way, much as it hurts me because I'd never leave you. Four months was too long and I'm sure those fuckwads were trying to fill your mind with nonsense. If I got to spend the rest my life makin' it up to you, I will." Once Uvogin had his mind on something, he rarely could place it elsewhere. Made you think back to how hard he tried to make your favorite cake for your birthday, even trying days afterwards to get it right. He was stubborn and needed someone to ground him more often or not. So you wonder if Nobu stayed by his side during your absence, because you were sure Bates would have told you if Uvogin went on a murdering rampage; To turn you against him. 

But Uvogin was your savior, was the one who cared for you for years. Yes things were rocky at first, he'd gone about things all wrong he even admitted to it. But he hadn't hurt you, he loved you. You loved him. Loved him. Loved. Him. Right? Right? Right? Right?

The sudden build up in your chest, the ringing in your ears came to a staggering halt. Yes, you did. 

-

With every movement you had a larger shadow for all 24 hours of the 21 days since you woke. For when you coughed or let out shuddered breaths, he froze. When you cried, he held you while rubbing your back, reaffirming you were his. Apologies would fall from his lips day after day as his fingers touched every inch of your body- 'I'm sorry for not keeping you safe,' 'I'm sorry for not finding you sooner.'

There you sat in Uvogin's lap, clad in an overly large t-shirt of his that you swam in. One of his arms locked around your waist whilst the other traced circled on your bare thighs. You could hear how his heart beat meticulously and soothed, his breaths light, and it calmed you. Some days have been harder than others- you'd wake up in a panic, scared you were back in captivity with Bates. And each time Uvogin would trap you taut in his arms cooing to you sweet nothings that you were safe. That no one would ever take you from him again. 

"Eat more of your dinner baby, need to get some meat back on those bones," Uvogin pressed a finger into your thigh to get your attention, nodding to the half eaten meal on the coffee table. 

"I'm full," You responded swatting at his hand, "Will make me nauseous if I have any more."

"Oh, yeah. Well, guess we'll give it an hour or two then I'll heat it up for you unless ya want something else." 

"It'll get better, Uvo.. I know you're worried, patience." 

"I know I know. Just can't believe how damn boney you are now, I miss all that pudge I could grab and squeeze." He pouted. How funny to see such a monstrous man take on the form of an upset child. 

You turned your head to stick your tongue out at him, "Not you preferring me chubby,"

"What? I like fuckin' you in front a mirror seeing your tummy fat fold, so beautiful. And miss squeezing your thighs, too tiny now." Uvogin reminisced jokingly. 

"That's cus' you're so big."

"Yeah but you love how big I am, n' I love you my tiny little girl no matter what." He began to pepper kisses against your neck as his grip tightened.

Uvogin had a way with words that made you brain dead- and with that gruff, sultry voice of his never helped as it entranced you no matter what the conversation was. The way he made you feel so small and so cute, that he was your big strong man, your protector that loved you to death. That would search to the ends of the world for you. You just adored the way he made you feel- he was exactly what you wanted, needed, and more.

You grew warm with need, leaving you flustered on his lap. Unable to control your racing heartbeat, you pressed a kiss to the corner of Uvo's mouth and retreated to the bathroom. You pranced away leaving the big man to groan out, playfully calling for you to come back.

But you only rolled your eyes giggling, prancing into the half bathroom of your new place. 

Uvogin made the decision, which you agreed with, that going back to your old home wasn't a good idea. The possibility of panicking upon being in the place you'd been taken by Bates was high. You adored the new townhome Uvogin picked in a city where privacy was king and no one dared venture if they didn't have the money. But still isolated enough for Uvogin to blend in and leave on a whim. And smack dab next to Phinks and a girl he'd taken to. 

Splashing cold water on your face, it helped calm down the heat rising up your neck. 

But suddenly the smile you adorned fell flat. 

Hands trembled. Gripping the sink counter, the reflection you see staring back was one you liked. Life returned behind your eyes, cheek bones weren't as sunken. Yet the moment you close your eyes it was like ugly flashes of a dark room, swirling rooms, and a gaudy wedding dress took over. With a jolt you jumped back. In and out.  But your breathing doesn't slow, not as your legs crumble, pushing yourself against the back wall. Over the toilet you empty the contents of your stomach, painful gagging and heaves. Tears streamed down your cheeks. A pulsing prodded behind your sinuses, contorting features as you internally begged for it to stop. So much pain. Even when you slept you saw Bates and his men, forcing you to live through each needle they stuck in your arm. Forcing you to feel the physical and emotional pain all over again until you woke up screaming. 

"Babe?" Uvogin's concerned voice sounds from outside the door.

"I'm.. okay." You croak, sounding significantly worse than you felt. 

Immediately the door banged open, Uvogin through the doorway in an instant. His fear settled as he saw your form curled over the toilet, staring up at him with red eyes. 

"Ah shit." He dropped down next to you, massaging his fingers along the nape of your neck, "Did'ya get it all out you think?"

"Yeah, it wasn't much." You shakily reached to flush the contents, "I keep seeing them."

He frowned at your omission, unsure what to say. He continued to prod at your skin, attempting to bring you any sort of comfort. His pointer finger dug into the ridges of your spine, hearing your soft mewl for him to continue. 

"How do I get better?" You asked, though it was a question neither of you could answer. Uvogin was the furthest from a qualified therapist, his recommendations ranged from murder to... well murder.

"Time?"

You laughed quietly at his attempt at advice, falling back against Uvo. His giant body grounded you, he was your shield. If only he could be a mental one. "I know I'll be okay. Just want to go a few days without flashbacks or reminders, or nightmares. Can't wait to eat a normal meal."

Quiet fell over you. Solemness as your eyes connected. What was he thinking?

"Uvo?" You watched him nod, "I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckled warmly, kissing the top of your head. 

Strangely enough that incessant ringing in your ears was back. Like that phrase triggered something. But you stared at Uvogin through the numbing noise, trying to fight through it as you cupped his cheek. Right? His forehead fell to yours. Right? His lips met yours uncaring for the fact you'd just thrown up. Right? The large man descended on you like prey, tugging at your clothes, a whine elicited from the back of your throat. You think he mumbled something about how much he missed 'fucking you' that he needed to be inside you. You wanted that too. Right? Clawing at his back as his fingers coaxed their way inside you after he tore off your shorts. Your groans of pain quickly mixed into pleasure before you began to chase your high, before he let you drop. Empty. Then you felt the head of his thick cock prod at your entrance and your shot alive with adrenaline and electricity up your core. He hadn't prepped you enough, it would hurt but it'd fill you and stretch you so good how you liked it. And like that you became one with him again after five months.

Right?

[lvis44]

Freak Like That // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Angst, Kind of Cheating? (depends on how you look at it), Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Not Edited/Proofread

Word Count: 8.9k+

Summary: Seeing him again shouldn't be as hard as it is, but the universe has funny ways of making sure you end up back in his arms.

Notes: I'm aware I said this was coming like 3 weeks ago but your girl has her first corporate job that has been much more demanding week by week so I've been busy!! I toyed with turning this into more of a fic so if you're interested in a pt.2 of them LMK. Sweet Escape Epilogue is still on its way but has turned into a bit of a stand alone fic within a chapter, don't hate me, or maybe you'll love me for it. I didn't proofread this and wrote part of it while I was a tad bit drunk, oopsie! Love you all!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

It had taken everything in you to move on from Lewis. You had done everything in your power to forget him, how he felt, how good he was to you, but the thought of him always lingered. You would have been a fool to ever think that anything could ever truly happen between the two of you, you were mature enough to know it was always just sex, it would always be just sex. That didn’t mean you never fantasized about how it would feel to be loved by him. It was never a relationship between the two of you, there was never any commitment from him. He had been more of a fuck buddy, a sugar daddy in many senses. He was older than you, detached, and loved to shower you with gifts. You only ever had his attention in private, and when you did he made you see stars. Lewis had always managed to unlock something within you that you didn’t know existed, bringing alive senses you’d never felt. He taught you things about your body and needs that you had been so naive to. No one had ever been able to compare to him. Parting from him had been one of the most difficult tasks you had ever been faced with, but you knew the agreement between the two of you wasn’t sustainable, you were only ever destined for heartbreak if you continued with him. You had done so well for the last year, ignoring his texts, doing your best to avoid his heavy presence online. Him being in the same room as you however, was something that you were not prepared for. He looked ethereal, his beige suit jacket showing off just a peak of his chest, enough to force the images back into your head, his tattoos glistening above you as he wears you out. He has one braid hanging perfectly in front of his face, all you can think of is how his braids felt tickling your neck when he would pant dirty words into your sticky skin.

“Y/N? You okay darling?” The voice that came from beside you startled you. When you looked to your side, your boyfriend was looking at you with concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry about that, just zoned out for a second.” You try to fake laugh it off, not wanting him to pry.

He continues to look suspicious but doesn’t press any further, instead seamlessly transitioning into a conversation with one of the businessmen standing with him. You find your attention returning back to where Lewis had stood, his attention now fully on you. His smirk is knowing as he drags his eyes shamelessly up and down your body. You have to use every ounce of power in yourself to pull your eyes away from him as one of your boyfriends business partners directs a question to you. You put your fake smile on, engaging in boring conversation as you do your best to ignore the strong presence that is Lewis. You had been worried that one day you would run into him, your boyfriend working in the fashion industry made it almost inevitable.

You managed to stay relatively strong throughout the night, the champagne helping immensely. Lewis had disappeared into the crowd and you had done your absolute best not to look for him. You spent your evening tailing behind your boyfriend, being introduced to random men that you assumed worked in the same circles as him. Your boyfriend kept his hand on your lower back throughout most of the night, the only acknowledgement that you were even really there. He was a fine man, he had taken his time winning you over, taken you on romantic dates, but the spark still wasn’t there, and the arguments were becoming more and more frequent. You knew he cared about you, treated you well, but he was simply the safest option, and he was getting sick of your lack of interest in his work. You were growing increasingly tired of being his arm candy, using you to show off to his business partners. The intimacy lacked passion, nothing matched the raw passion you had with Lewis once upon a time. It wasn’t fair to compare him to Lewis, he was actually there to be your partner, not just a fun time, but it was almost impossible. 

“There’s only a few more people I need to talk to and then I promise we can go.” Your boyfriend whispered into your ear. You couldn’t wait to get out of your heels and be in a quiet room, away from the people faking sincerity in hopes of investments and business opportunities.

You grab another glass of champagne as your boyfriend orders an Old Fashion before once again pulling you along through the crowd of people, evidently in search of someone.

“Ah, there he is.” You hear him exclaim, not yet able to see who he’s approaching.

When you come out from behind him you want to scream, he has approached Lewis, completely unaware of the situation he has just put you in.

“It’s so fantastic to meet you, I’m Brian, we work with a lot of the same people around here. It’s an honor, I’m a big fan.” Your boyfriend extends his hand to Lewis eagerly.

You can’t help but be confused, your boyfriend has never once mentioned racing, you can only assume he’s a fan of his work in fashion, or he’s lying.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis responds politely with a small chuckle, returning the handshake before turning his attention to you, “and always wonderful to see you Y/N.”

You want to melt into the earth below you. You can see the devious look in his eyes, blatantly announcing your familiarity, you thank god your boyfriend doesn’t know the depth of familiarity you have with the man in front of you, not yet at least.

“You two know each other?” Your boyfriend asks, confusion covering his face. 

“Oh yeah, we know each other well. Y/N hasn’t told you?” Lewis continues, a wide smile across his beautiful lips. To anyone else it would look kind and genuine, but you know he’s playing at something else, daring you, challenging your boyfriend in the simplest of ways.

“No she’s never-“ Your boyfriend starts before you cut him off.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other well, we’ve just met at things like this before.” You rush out, it’s not entirely a lie, that is exactly how you first met him. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know the rest.

Lewis sends you a smirk, cocky and mischievous.

“All I can say man is you landed a very talented woman.” Lewis says to your boyfriend, the words falling off his lips in such a tone that your stomach flips.

“She is pretty incredible.” Your boyfriend smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist, completely oblivious to the meaning behind Lewis’ words. You can see out of the corner of your eye how Lewis glances down at the action, his jaw tightening momentarily.

Your boyfriend is on a mission, immediately transitioning into talking business with Lewis. You do your best not to undress him with your eyes, opting to look down at his feet throughout most of the conversation. You can feel Lewis glance at you every once in a while, trying so hard to ignore the way his gaze makes you feel. As you hear someone calling your boyfriends name you think you are finally free from the situation.

“So sorry, it sounds like I’m needed elsewhere, it was truly great meeting you, it was an honor.” Your boyfriend says to Lewis, shaking his hand once again before turning to you. You're ready to follow after him, happy to be dragged into yet another boring conversation, “Why don’t you stay here and catch up for a moment, I’ll find you later.”

He doesn’t give you even a moment to object as he presses a kiss to your temple and quickly makes his exit. You both watch as your boyfriend walks away, you in fear of the situation he’s left you in, Lewis in excitement of the exact same thing.

“Soooo,” Lewis draws out, finally looking directly at you, “how have you been?”

“Seriously?” You bite at him, unamused by his behavior.

He just shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, the glass barely hiding his amused smirk.

“What the hell was that? There’s no reason he needs to know anything.” You say, your tone low and harsh.

He just laughs, “There’s no way youre fucking that dude. I doubt that square can make you cum. Not the way I did.”

“Lewis,” You hiss at him, looking around hoping no one heard him, “he’s good to me, leave him alone.”

“So I’m right, he can’t make you cum can he.” His words come out as a statement not a question, so confident in himself, in his knowledge of your needs.

“Untrue, he’s perfectly fine, and he offers so much more than you ever did.” You throw back at him, not happy at his assessment of your relationship, he has no right to assume anything. Even if he’s partially correct.

“He might not break your heart baby, but I doubt he can break your back the way I did.” He’s gotten closer to you, his voice lower, seductive.

You can feel your breath hitch, the familiar smell of him engulfing your senses, his words going to your core unwillingly. He notices it too, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. All you can think about is how that same tongue has felt in your mouth, all over your body, inside of you, so many times. He chuckles as he watches you get lost in thought, knowing exactly where your mind has wandered.

“He’s gonna be busy for a while, we could relive some old times.” Lewis says quietly, his head gesturing back toward the hall where the bathrooms are.

“Lewis, no.” You say against your will, desperately wanting to follow him mindlessly down the hall and let him have his way with you, but you can’t let yourself do it to your boyfriend.

“Offer stands, always, ya know when you finally get sick of him.” Lewis says casually.

Within moments your boyfriend has appeared at your side once again. You worry that he’s heard something but he seems unbothered, unaware of what you were just offered.

“Vance and I are going to go grab drinks down the street, talk about the contract somewhere a little quieter.” He says to you, ignoring Lewis entirely.

You sigh, realizing just how much longer your night had just gotten, “I really just want to head back to the hotel.”

“Really? You know these meetings always go better when you’re around. You take the focus off of me.” He half complains half laughs.

“We’ve been here forever babe, I really just want to get out of my dress.” You say softly, trying to get out of the boring boys club meeting.

“You’ll be fine, besides how would you even get back to the hotel? I need to have the car take Vance and I and you’re never going to find a cab with all of this going on.” He gestures back towards that large party, his voice starting to sound annoyed.

“I’ll figure something out, I really just want to go back to the hotel, the day has been long enough as is.” You sigh, hoping he lets it go.

“C'mon babe, we’re supposed to be a team.” He continues to try to convince you. 

Never have you been part of his business ventures, only the arm candy that he  brings to meetings when he is trying to show off to someone.

“And we are, I’m just not up to staying out so late tonight.” You say, growing agitated, embarrassed that this conversation is happening in front of Lewis.

“We won’t be out late.” Your boyfriend continues to argue, “And how are you even going to get to the hotel?”

“I’ve got a car coming in just a little bit, I’ll get her back.” Lewis pipes up before you can respond, not looking at you but directing his attention to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend lets out a frustrated huff before conceding.

“That would be great, I appreciate it man.” Your boyfriend agrees without asking you, shaking Lewis’ hand.

“Anytime, don’t worry, she’ll be well taken care of.” The smile on Lewis’ face is so sweet you could almost believe he is just being polite.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even say another word to you, walking away toward his business partners after patting you on the shoulder.

“He evidently trusts you.” Lewis says, raising his eyebrow at you.

“He has absolutely no reason not to.” You fire back at him, feeling defensive.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Lewis ignores you, wiggling his now empty drink in the air. 

“I thought your car was going to be here in a second.” You say, raising an accusatory brow at him as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I said it would be here in a little bit,” Lewis starts, taking note of your eye roll at his words, “It will be fine, I’ll have you back before Prince Charming gets his drunk ass back to your room.”

“He’s not drunk.” You defend him unnecessarily, making Lewis laugh.

“If he’s getting drinks with Vance, he definitely will be by the time he’s back. Come have a drink with me, I’ve missed you.” Lewis shakes his head, evidently familiar with the man your boyfriend is getting drinks with.

“You’ve missed me?” The words come out of your mouth without meaning to, you’re genuinely surprised he’s even thought of you since you parted ways.

“Yes, of course I have,” He laughs, directing you toward the bar, “I always enjoyed myself with you. I still don’t get why you left.” His voice sounds vulnerable as he lets the last bit slip.

“You know exactly why I left.” You say, mindlessly following him to the bar against your better judgment.

“No I really don’t, you never really gave me an explanation. You just disappeared.” Lewis argues with you, keeping his voice low as he directs you onto a bar stool.

“Lewis, we both know nothing about what we were doing was sustainable. There’s no way you could have ever given me what I need.” You sigh, not wanting to have this conversation, especially not in public.

“And what is it that you need? Some guy that can’t satisfy you? You’re really trying to tell me that you’re happier with him than you were with me?” Lewis continues to push you, waving down the bartender.

“Lewis, I was never with you, and besides that, you have no idea what our relationship is like.” You defend yourself, not directly answering him.

“I think I saw enough to know that you’re not having fun.” Lewis shoots back at you, waiting for the bartender to make his way over to the two of you.

“It’s not about fun, it’s about stability.” You say, trying to stand your ground.

“You deserve both.” Lewis mumbles as the bartender appears in front of you.

Lewis orders for you, not needing to ask what you want, confident in his prior experience with you.

Your mind wanders back to the rare times that you would go out in public with him, hidden in the back corner of dive bars. The two of you getting tipsy off of shitty drinks before falling into bed together. It was rare times like those that made you fantasize about actually being in a relationship with him, dream about what your life would be like with him giggling through kisses as a permanent fixture.

“What have you been up to?” Lewis pulls you out of your thoughts, thankfully changing the subject.

“Just the usual, not much has changed.” You shrug, taking a sip of the drink in front of you.

“Descriptive,” Lewis teases you, “nothing new? How’d you meet your square?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “You really want to talk about my boyfriend?”

“I need to know what I’m up against.” Lewis shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re not up against anything because it’s not a competition.” You deadpan, annoyed with his confidence.

“Everything’s a competition babe, that’s life.” Lewis laughs, taking a sip of his drink,

You can’t help the way your stomach flips at the familiar pet name, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it fall off his lips, it came so naturally to him.

Somehow you find yourself engaged in a normal conversation with Lewis eventually, discussing his race season and other projects he’s been working on. You’ve always loved to hear him talk about the things he’s passionate about, easily getting lost in his words. You stay with him, enjoying the shockingly easy conversation, indulging in more drinks than you should. It’s not until you see him check his watch do you think about how much time has probably passed.

“So is your car here yet, or are you planning on holding me hostage?” You ask him, filling the momentary silence.

“Not used to many hostage situations that include free drinks,” Lewis laughs, “but we should probably head out front, car will be here soon.”

“Thank you for the drinks by the way.” You say quietly, sliding off your stool to follow him out of the venue.

He just smiles, no words leaving his mouth as he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you out with him. It doesn’t take long before his car is at the curb, his hand not having left your back as he urges you into the car. Despite the multiple seats available, he settles into the seat directly next to you, his thigh touching yours sending electricity through your whole body. You curse yourself for how simple it is for him to draw a reaction from you. 

“So where’s the square got you staying?” Lewis asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up.” You mumble before giving him directions that he relays to his driver.

There’s a large part of you that’s surprised he seems to actually be taking you back to your hotel, expecting him to try so much more before actually granting you your freedom. You can’t help but be slightly annoyed with your boyfriend for putting you in this position, even if he doesn’t know your history with Lewis, the rumors surrounding him should be enough to keep your girlfriend from being alone with him. Even if your boyfriend trusts you, why does he trust Lewis so much?

The drive is mostly silent. Lewis has his arm up over the back of your seat and as much as you want to fight him on it, push him away, you can’t bring yourself to do so, you enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. His body heat is intoxicating in the worst way, you can’t help but relish in the familiar feeling, so used to being cocooned in his arms. You can tell that you’re getting close to your hotel by the familiar streets, Lewis still scrolling on his phone as if he could care less that you’re sat next to him for the first time in nearly a year. Maybe he’s given up, you think. Maybe he’s finally respecting your boundaries. All of that is thrown to the wind when the car begins to slow down. He scooches even closer to you, his head dropping to your neck.

“My offer always stands, I meant it when I said I miss you.” He whispers in your ear before placing a kiss to your throat.

A small whimper leaves you involuntarily, secretly missing the way that his lips feel on your skin. You can feel a slight smirk on your skin as he pulls away, not far. His face comes up, directly in front of yours, his nose just grazing your own. Everything inside of you is screaming at you to get out of the car and not turn back, but your body is drawn toward him, he can feel it too. One large hand finds your thigh, running up the outside of it, just under the hem of your dress. You relish in the feeling of his calloused fingers on your skin for the first time in far too long. His eyes are heavy as he stares at you, hooded and darkened with lust. He leans forward just the slightest bit, ghosting his lips over yours. When you don’t pull back or fight him, he takes it as a good sign. His grip on your thigh tightens as he leans forward and properly connects your lips. The second his mouth is on yours he lets out a deep groan, one that seems to have been locked inside him for a long time. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue finding yours mindlessly. His tongue swirls against yours as his other hand comes to find the back of your head, pressing you harder against him. Your hands have a mind of their own, coming up to find the sides of his strong neck, not even thinking, you’ve been in another world since the second his lips found yours. When he finally departs you find yourself chasing his lips, making him peck yours once again.

“Come back to mine, babygirl.” He whispers, out of breath.

You let out a small whimper, your brain clouded by all of the ways you could explore him tonight, let him explore you.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, his head dropping back to your neck, “We can have so much fun babe. Everything you’ve been missing this last year, I promise.”

“Lewis, I can’t,” You just about groan, frustrated but sticking to your guns, “we’ve already crossed too many lines. I can’t do that to him.”

You try to push Lewis away but it’s worthless, his light assault on your neck is welcomed despite your words.

“Yeah, maybe we crossed a line. Why not cross some more? Hmm?” His words are spoken through kisses trailing up your neck and across your jaw, slowly making his way back towards your lips.

“Lew,” You breathe out, pushing at his chest once again, finally he disconnects from you, just barely, “I shouldn’t. I can’t, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s really not fair is it.” Lewis shakes his head, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, a whole different meaning to his words.

“I need to go.” You whisper, moving to get out of the car.

“Hey,” Lewis stops you, a hand on your wrist, “you still have my number, let me know if you change your mind. I’m only a few blocks down.”

You offer him a small smile, not sure how to respond and not able to be in his presence any longer. You slip out of his grasp, closing the door on him as you do. You can feel the heat from where his fingers gripped you, a burning sensation on your skin. You try to shake the sensation from your body as you make your way up to your room. You can hear his car drive away in the background, having to stop yourself from turning around and going back to him. When you arrive back to your room, its empty, your boyfriend nowhere to be found, evidently still out at drinks. You sigh, flopping down onto the mattress. You want to scream. It’s so unbelievably unfair that someone can still have such a hold over you, despite having not seen him in a year. Lewis is addictive, and reintroducing an addictive substance to someone who has just barely become clean is always dangerous.

It’s a few hours before your boyfriend finally returns to the hotel. You’ve long since changed into comfier clothes and are lounging on the bed watching a random show, grateful to finally be out of your heels. When he finally arrives you can tell he’s beyond wasted, just like Lewis had predicted.

“Hey hun.” He slurs, swaying in the hallway as he tries and fails to steady himself.

“Hi,” You giggle, “have a good time with Vance?”

“Yeah,” He laughs back, “woulda had a better time if you had came along though.”

“You look like you had plenty of fun,” You raise a brow at him, “go change and come to bed.”

“I just don’t get why you didn’t want to come, honestly I would have closed that deal so much quicker” He says as he goes into the bathroom 

“I told you I wanted to get back to the hotel, I was tired.” You sigh

“Not too tired to hang out with Lewis Hamilton.” You can hear the anger in his voice and it makes you want to laugh.

“Really? You’re the one who told me to stay and hang out with him, not only that but you trusted him to take me home. How is that my fault?” You’re already annoyed as the words leave your mouth, already frustrated beyond belief in so many ways.

“Jesus Y/N, if I knew getting drinks would put you in such a mood maybe I would have come home sooner.” Your boyfriend says from the bathroom.

You have no idea where his sudden attitude has come from, you refusing going to drinks should not have put him in such a mood.

“I’m not in a mood, I just don’t appreciate you implying that I turned you down just to hang out with Lewis.” You argue as he exits the bathroom, his shirt now off, just in his suit pants.

“I know you didn’t leave that gala for quite some fucking time.” He spits at you drunkenly.

“What are you even talking about?” You ask him, confused how he even knows, not that it should even be an issue.

“You were too tired to come get drinks with me to help me with an important investor but you can stay and have drinks with Lewis Hamilton for another hour?” He accuses you, not taking into account that it’s partially his fault.

“We were waiting for his car so we got a drink,” You defend, “and how do you even know how long we were there?”

“People know you're my girl Y/N. Apparently people find it a bit strange when they see my girlfriend drinking at the bar with one of the most notorious playboys in the game.” His voice is slowly getting louder, putting you even more on edge.

“Oh so you have people keeping tabs on me now?” You question him.

“I don’t need to ask, they just do it. It’s embarrassing Y/N. I don’t need people thinking that my girlfriend is out fucking athletes.” He throws at you, rolling your eyes.

“All that should matter is that you know!” You yell at him.

“Do I?” His voice is laced with venom, a sudden distrust that you’ve never seen from him before.

“Well you certainly fucking should.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“How do you know him?” He ignores your argument, taking a step closer to you.

“I told you.” 

“Yeah you told me how you met him, sure. How do you actually know him, because you seemed to be pretty fucking close.” He fires at you.

Your anger has reached a peak, not wanting to deal with your boyfriends drunken anger, you let the walls down.

“You really want to know how familiar I am with him? Hmm?” You challenge him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, he fucked me for a year straight. Best I ever had.” You shrug, your voice venomous. You have let all of your cares slip away.

“Excuse me?” Your boyfriend is seething, your last comment sticking with him.

“You heard me.” You say, your voice eerily calm. 

“You say that and then expect me to believe you didn’t fuck him tonight? How stupid do you think I am?” He sounds almost amused as he asks the question.

“I could have, oh god I could have, I was this close,” You hold up your fingers to emphasize your point, “but I didn’t. Ya know why? Because I’m in a relationship, I fucking you! I couldn’t do that to you. Yet here you are accusing me of going behind your back. You left me alone with him, you let him take me back to the hotel. Why? So you could prove a point about what you think of me?”

“If you were so close to fucking him, why don’t you go do exactly that?” Your boyfriend just about screams at you.

You’ve never had a fight of this magnitude, especially over something like this. Hearing his distrust and anger makes you rethink everything about him. Your mother always told you that drunk words are sober thoughts and you can’t help but feel that in this moment. In that moment you give up, why even try to convince him to trust you, if he thinks you’re going to cheat on him now why would he ever think differently.

“Fine.” You shrug, your voice calm.

“Seriously?” He’s taken aback, clearly not thinking you would act on it.

“You obviously don’t trust me so why not.” You say, not looking at him as you gather your things. You have no real plan about where you’re going to go, sure you are leaving things behind but not caring, just needing to get out of the room and away from his vile behavior.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re literally proving my point right now, you’ll fuck anyone who gives you attention. I thought I had managed to tame that shit in you.” He spits, watching you pack your things.

“Tame me?” You whip around at his words, “First of all, I’m not a fucking zoo animal. Second of all, if you’ve never trusted me why the fuck are you even here?”

“Jesus, I thought you could be better, you had so much fucking potential.” He sounds remorseful and it makes you want to scream. How dare he think you needed fixing.

“Fuck you, I’m done.” You say, your things finally zipped in your bag as you put on your shoes. 

He’s still yelling things at you as you make your way out of the room, not caring to stick around to hear what other awful things he has to say to you. You don’t properly breathe until you’re in the elevator, finally sure he’s not following you. That’s when you realize you don’t have anywhere to go, a lump forming in your throat as you think of everything that was said. Mindlessly you take out your phone, hesitating for a moment as you look at Lewis’ number, blocked for so long. You unblock him as you step out of the elevator and into the lobby, walking out to the street as you call his number, praying he’s not asleep. Going to him is probably the last thing you should be realistically doing, but he’s the only person you want to see right now.

“Hey stranger, I knew you’d end up calling.” His voice is cocky through the phone, you can hear his smirk.

“Lew.” You croak out, your tears finally coming to the front.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his tone changing drastically, immediately aware that something isn’t right. 

“You said you were staying nearby, can I come over?” You almost want to laugh at how desperate you sound.

“Of course, I’ll send you a car. Are you still at the hotel?” His voice is laced with concern and care and it makes your tears fall harder. It’s ridiculous that someone who had never been emotionally available could care for you more than your boyfriend.

“I’ll walk, just tell me where you are.” You shake your head as if he can see you.

“Y/N, it’s too late for you to be out walking alone, I’d be worried the whole time. Let me send you a car.” He argues.

“I need the fresh air honestly, just tell me where to go. Please.” Your voice breaks at the end of your plea, convincing him not to argue with you more, he can tell he won’t win.

Against his better judgment he finally tells you where he is, offering to stay on the phone with you while you walk. You’re tempted to take him up on it but you need the time to yourself. You’re still not sure why you feel such a desperate need to see him but it’s all you can think of at the moment.

The walk helps your head immensely, your agony switching to anger. Part of you wishes you had just gone back with Lewis when he offered, you would have proved your boyfriend right and still had a good night. If he doesn’t trust you, why be good for him?

When you arrive at Lewis’ hotel, he’s waiting in the door to his suite for you, his suit from earlier still on. He immediately takes note of your scowl and bag, his eyebrows raising. He doesn’t say a word as he steps aside to let you enter the room.

“That fucking asshole.” You say, dropping your bag as you finally turn to face a very concerned Lewis.

“What happened?” He asks you, cautiously approaching you.

“He doesn’t trust me! I could have come here and fucked you hours ago, but no, I stayed in his room and waited for his drunk ass to get back like a good little housewife. What do I get when he gets back? Accused of fucking you.” You let out in one big breath.

Lewis’ eyes widen, a slightly amused look on his face underneath the concern.

“So he accused you of cheating on him?” He questions, still trying to fully figure out what he’s dealing with.

“Oh not only that, he said he thought that he had tamed me, told me I embarrassed him.” You let out a bitter laugh.

“So he’s a square and a dumbass.” Lewis states with a cock of his head, frowning.

“Oh fuck you.” You spit at him.

“I’m just saying, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” He says softly, approaching you to put his hands on your arms gently, rubbing up and down softly in hopes of calming you somehow.

The gentle action makes you want to cry again, fall into him and never let him go. As if he can tell, he pulls you into his chest, holding you tight. You wrap your arms around his neck. You let yourself revel in the feeling of being in his arms, holding you so tight you almost can’t breathe, but you welcome it, you’ve missed it for so long.

“So why are you here baby, to piss him off?” Lewis asks quietly, loosening his grip on you slightly to get you to look at him.

“I don’t even know, I think I just wanted you.” You sigh, embarrassed by how needy you sound.

He smirks, pleased in the knowledge that you may want him in any way shape or form.

“Why the hell are you still dressed up?” You suddenly ask him, confused by how much time has passed since he left the event.

“Had an after party I had to go to, just got back a little while ago.” He shrugs, his arms still wrapped around you.

“So why the hell were you trying to get me to come back with you if you had things you had to do?” You question him.

“If there was any chance in hell you would come back with me I was blowing that party off in a heartbeat, don’t care if I pissed anyone off. Haven’t seen you in ages, couldn’t let the chance slip.” He explains, looking you dead in the eye.

The thought that he would have rather spent his night with you than going out and networking makes your heart clench, it’s something your own boyfriend never would have done, evidently. His admission makes you throw caution to the wind, missing the feeling of being wanted, you pull the back of his neck so you can connect your lips to his. He seems almost surprised for a moment, not expecting anything to happen due to the state you had arrived in. He only hesitates for a moment before responding with full force, his lips fully claiming yours like they’ll never touch another set.

He groans into the kiss, the sound going to your core immediately, its always been one of your favorite sounds. You take your hands from around his neck, pawing at the button of his jacket, desperate to feel the smooth skin and hard muscle he has hidden underneath. The second his jacket is open, running your hands up his torso, reveling in the strength, your lips never parting from his. He pulls back slightly, a cocky smirk spread across his swollen lips, his hands firmly on your backside.

“What do you want, baby?” He questions, his tone knowing.

You whimper in response, trying to catch his lips again as you work to push the jacket off his shoulders.

“Words Y/N, you know that.” He reprimands you even though he is reaching behind himself to pull his jacket off, throwing it over the nearby chair.

“Fuck, I want you, please.” You whine out, annoyed you even have to ask. 

His hands come back to your ass, taking greedy handfuls as his lips drop to your neck, brushing over the skin as he speaks, “You want me to show you what you’ve been missing out on? Remind you how good I can make you feel?”

All you can do is nod as you brace yourself on his large biceps, a panted ‘yes’ falling from your lips. Within seconds his hands have fallen to your thighs, scooping you up to walk you towards the bed in the large suite. He drops you down on the bed, letting you bounce as he stares down at you with hungry eyes. The mood has shifted so drastically since you arrived, the whiplash is making your brain spin. Within moments he’s on you again, his lips hungry against yours as his large hand trails up under your sweatshirt. You wished you were wearing something cuter but the feeling of his hands on you threw every thought out the window. As his lips trailed down your neck you explored every inch of his muscular back under your palms, feeling the way the muscles flexed every time he adjusted his position. Wordlessly your sweatshirt was thrown up and over your head before his lips attached to your bare breast. The moan you let out was something you didn’t recognize from yourself anymore, a sound you hadn’t made since the last time you had him.

Over the course of your relationship with your boyfriend, sex had become more of a chore, something you knew you needed to do to keep the relationship working, it obviously didn't work. Your boyfriend tended to rush through things, chasing his own high with yours as more of an afterthought. Lewis however, he took his time with you, he always had, he would never be done until you were absolutely wrecked beneath him.

Lewis’s lips were trailing down your body, his tongue tracing every inch of skin it could reach. Hot, wet, sloppy kisses being left against every dip and curve of your figure. When he reached the waistline of your sweatpants, his eyes flicked up for a moment, locking with yours. There was a faint question in them and all you could do was nod, bucking your hips up towards him, urging him to take them off. 

“So eager.” Lewis just about chuckles, pulling down your pants and thong in one move.

You can’t help but squirm when his eyes lock onto your heat, staring at you like he’s going to destroy you. His large hand splays across your bare waist, keeping you in place as his other holds one of your thighs out to the side.

“Patience babe, don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.” His voice is teasing but you can hear the tension behind his words, he’s just as worked up as you are, the evidence is visible in his dress pants.

He leans down, pressing soft kisses along your hip, making his way further down slowly, much too slow for your liking.

“Lewis, please.” You whimper, hoping he will speed up the process and ease the ache between your legs.

He smirks, locking his eyes with yours as he latches his lips around your clit with no warning. You shriek, the sound turning into a guttural moan as his tongue laps over your nerves. You can feel the stubble of his beard on the inside of your thigh, his eyes still have left your face. You can feel the cocky smirk that spreads across his face as he lowers his face, lapping at your drenched entrance.

“Fuck baby, you really needed this didnt you?” He taunts you, breathless.

All you can do is whine his name as his skilled mouth returns to your core.

“God I missed you, always taste so fucking good.” He murmurs against you.

His tongue makes his way inside of you as his thumb comes to rub at your clit, making your back arch. Finally having him inside of you feels so good, but you need so much more and he knows it.

He pulls his mouth away, his thumb still tracing patterns across your nerves.

“Need you to come for me babygirl, could feel you clenching around my tongue, I know you’re close.” He’s out of breath and when you finally look at him you can see your arousal glistening on his lips.

You writhe on the bed as he presses a finger against your entrance, teasing the slightest bit of pressure before inserting the thick digit deep inside of you. His tongue comes down to replace his thumb against your clit as he slips another finger inside of you, massaging the spongy spot inside of you just right that you scream. The sound rips out of your body coming from deep in your throat as your pleasure courses through you. You can feel yourself soaking Lewis as he laps up your release, humming contentedly, like youre the best meal he’s ever had. You barely have the ability to push him away, too sensitive and he knows it, that cocky smirk plastered across his face as he finally sits back. You barely even register that he’s moved back over you until you feel his fingers on your bottom lip, your own pleasure covering them.

“Open up babygirl, need you to taste just how amazing you are.” His voice is soft yet strained as you let his fingers slip past your lips, swirling your tongue around them. He lets out a soft groan, his eyes locked on your mouth as you put on a little show for him, still half delirious. 

When he finally slips his fingers from your lips he trails them down your chin and across your chest, leaving a trail of moisture that makes you shiver.

“Think you can take more? Hmm?” His lips are near your ear, you can feel the hot air of his voice against your humid skin.

“Please, god please.” You beg him, desperate to feel him again after so long.

“Been dying to be inside of you since the second I saw you tonight.” He admits into the skin of your neck as he works on the button of his dress pants. You attempt to help but its useless, you’re a useless pile of mush at this point.

He moves himself to stand at the end of the bed, finally kicking off his pants before grasping himself in his large palm. Your lips part inadvertently at the sight in front of you. His bare chest is glistening with sweat, making his tattoos that much darker and showing off the prominent shape of his pecs, his tattooed bicep is flexing ever so slightly as he slowly strokes himself, his eyes wandering over your naked body. When you finally trail your eyes down, your breath hitches in your throat. You’ve been with him countless times, but nothing can ever prepare you for just how thick he is, just how long he is. He has a cock that most men would pay to have and he knows it. He notices your staring, one side of his mouth curving into a knowing smirk. You’re sitting up, crawling towards him mindlessly, desperately trying to get your hands on him. You don’t even have time to properly register it when all the sudden you're being picked up like a rag doll and maneuvered onto all fours in front of him. You’re not even sure how he did it, his strength and your delirium making everything happen so fast. Within moments you feel his body pressed up behind yours, his mouth coming down next to your cheek.

“Gonna make sure my girl knows that no one will ever make her come like I do, gonna have you screaming my name baby.” He whispers, his voice sounding like pure sex. Your stomach clenches when he calls you his girl.

You feel him lining himself up with your entrance and all you can do is whimper into the pillow below you. With one hand grasped around his cock and the other a bruising grip on your hip, he takes a second to tease you, giving you the slightest pressure at your aching hole before slipping out and thrusting forward to nudge your clit. He’s leaving you a whining mess before he’s even inside of you and he’s absolutely loving it. He stills momentarily, lined up with you again before thrusting into you all at once. The force makes all the air leave your lungs as you slump even further forward. You hear a loud groan leave his chest and you wish you could see him, see the ecstasy across his face. His large palm soothes down your spine before pushing down, making you arch your hips up toward him even more. He barely gives you a moment before he’s rocking his hips, your body still working to accommodate the size its gone so long without.

“Good girl, you can take it.” His voice is low, demanding yet endearing. He’s the one that taught you about your praise kink, always so vocal about how good you make him feel.

His pace slowly starts to build, his thrusts becoming harsher as he keeps pressure on your back, keeping you just how he wants you. You can feel yourself getting even wetter as you listen to the moans leaving his body, your own sounds being nothing but gasps and whines. He’s hitting the perfect spot, over and over, and you can feel your stomach start to tighten. Rarely have partners even been able to make you come with just penetration, but everything is different with Lewis, it always has been.

“Fuck, already?” Lewis asks, his voice sounding almost amazed from behind you, “Fuck babe, I can feel you clenching my cock already, you gonna come again? Gonna fucking soak me like a good girl?”

His pace picks up, determination behind each thrust as his grip on your hips becomes even tighter. His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge again, the sound of pure sex. He groans loudly as he feels you come around him, working you through it but collapsing over you. He lets your hips go and you're dropping down flat on the mattress as he continues to pound into you from above. You can hear the slick sounds of him fucking into you and it makes everything so much dirtier. You’re moaning his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever learned.

“That’s it baby, just like that.” He coaxes you through a groan.

He doesn’t let up, the new angle making your toes curl as his weight bares down on you. He has one hand on your hip once again while he leans on his forearm next to you. You feel him start to move himself up, hooking your legs over his hips, your back bending backwards for him. He slows his pace ever so slightly, adding more force behind every thrust, making you squeal and grab at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, Lewis, I can’t, I-“ You whimper, too sensitive and too fucked out to properly string a sentence together.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can, go ahead and give me one more.” He soothes you, slapping your ass in contradiction to his kind tone.

You blindly reach your hand out behind you, wanting something to ground yourself on. He grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze before pulling out of you entirely. The sudden loss of contact leaves you confused before he’s flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs and sliding home once more. This time he grabs both of your hands, lacing your fingers with his as he braces them next to your head. His pace is still slow but unforgiving. His pupils are blown out and hooded as his eyes bore down into your own that are now teary.

“I got you, m’right here, let go, I know you can.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s trying to hold his own release off, desperate to feel you come again.

His lips attach to yours, sloppy and wet as he sucks on your tongue. One of his hands lets go of yours as he trails down to your cores, gently flicking at your nerves to feel you clench before settling on a relentless speed that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Say my name baby, tell me who’s making you feel this good.” His tone is possessive and cocky as he pulls away to stare at you, obsessed with your face as you climax.

You scream his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling like a tidal wave that has washed away anything but him and the ecstasy youre floating in. You hear him let out a deep guttural groan as his hips falter, trying so hard to fuck you through your own climax but the feeling of you squeezing around him is too much. You feel like you're floating when you feel him twitch inside of you, coming for longer than he ever has with you. You revel in it as he collapses down onto you, a comfortable crushing feeling that makes you never want to leave the bed.

You’re not sure how long you laid there, letting him pepper your neck with sloppy kisses as you tried to stroke his sweaty back, your efforts not the most successful as you felt like jello. You could feel the comforting feeling of him softening inside of you, still so big. You still didn’t feel like you were inside your own body when he finally pulled out and cleaned you up. It wasn’t until he was turning off the light and climbing into bed next to you, still naked, that you really felt human again. As he pulled you into his chest you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, knowing there was no good way for this to end. You were silent, nuzzling into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible.

“For the record, I meant what I said, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” Lewis says, tightening his arm around your waist.

You don’t respond, just press a kiss to his chest, enjoying the scent of him.

“I should know, I fumbled you pretty fucking hard.” He continues, much to your surprise.

You lift your head to look at him, shock written across your face.

“I’ve missed you.” He says, staring into your eyes in the dark room.

“I’ve missed you too.” You admit, laying your head back down to rest on his chest.

“I’ve got some other events to go to this week, come with me.” His words sound less like a question and more of a statement.

“Excuse me?” You look at him again, once again surprised.

“Come with me and let me show you off how you should be. I fucked up once, not doing it again.” His words are confident, sure of himself in every way.

You’re not sure how to respond, elated by the fact that this is exactly what you’ve wanted for so long, and terrified by the same thing. Words don’t come to you, all you can do is stretch up to kiss him, your mouths frantic against each others. His arm tightens around your waist as he pulls you up to lay on top of him, your legs falling around his waist. You kiss him mindlessly, brain dead at the feeling of his lips.

“Like I said, my girls gotta be taken care of.” He says against your lips as he moves you to slip himself inside of you once more.

As you slide down onto him once more, feeling him fill your heart and your core, you know no one else will ever be good enough for either of you again.

[child-of-helios]

hello. I've a rather stupid question. I've only read the books once, as a kid, and I don't understand why people hate calpyso x leo. whys it so bad? why does everyone seems to hate it on here?

xxx,

eurydice

First of all, this is my first ever ask, I've made it mother :D Secondly, I'd gladly explain! Though please note that it really has been a good while since I've read the books too, so my memory is kinda foggy :] Warnings for: Slight mentions (but not too much) of rape, pedophilia and mental illness (oh boy this is a tough one)

So, I have made a post abt this before, but it was written in a fit of rage so not my proudest moment (but my most popular post, oops). Anyways, I feel that the hate towards Calypso x Leo is because of a few reasons. 1. It simply didn't get enough development to feel worth it imo. Similar to Jason x Piper, I felt like there wasn't enough there to warrant a canon ship. There is also the fact that personally, I thought that their dynamic was more of a familial or that of siblings, which made me uncomfortable. I would've much rather have them be friends. 2. The uncomfortable age gap. It feels very weird because while yes, Calypso was depicted as a teenager, she is thousands upon thousands of years old. The fact that she fell in love with a literal child is incredibly weird. It was weird enough with Percy, but at least they didn't end up dating. With Leo though, she did end up dating him and the age gap feels very odd. Its even weirder knowing she had a relationship with Odysseus, who by that point was a pretty old dude so she was probably very mature and an adult (though she doesn't act like it). 3. Calypso is kinda a rapist. In the Odyssey myth, she forces Odysseus (a married man) to sleep with her. I'm sorry, but I can't support any relationship involving a rapist unless its rapist x prison cell. It makes me uncomfortable because she could very well take advantage of Leo, a mentally ill teenager with self-esteem issues. 4. Her toxic treatment of Leo. Calypso was very pissed when Leo arrived on her island, rightfully so after what she had gone through, but even then her treatment of his was outright cruel, especially compared to that of Percy and Odysseus. She made him sleep outside, exposing him to the elements after he got flung through the air and ended up on her island, which must've caused some damage. Then after they started dating, I still felt uncomfortable reading about the two, because their dynamic just didn't work, and I don't recall her apologizing to him for her treatment of him. 5. Leo's arc was thrown away. I think the worst of all, is how this impacted Leo's character. He should've had an arc where he learnt to love himself, but because of Calypso he didn't. I think the moral was supposed to be: 'even if you're mentally ill or have problems, you still deserve love!' but it came over more as: 'ignore your issues and get all your love from someone else.' Isn't it more important for kids to learn about self-love? And as an extra: what could've been. I think that Leo shouldn't have gone back for Calypso, that that ship shouldn't have happened. I prefer him going back to Echo and them learning about self-love together as buddies (and maybe evolving into more than that). Echo was stuck in an abusive relationship with the Narcissist, so I think it would a good arc for them both. I also think that if you really wanted a romance, Jason x Leo would've been much better. We know that Rick can write good gay romances, we know that Piper turns out to be a lesbian, so why not make Jason and Leo gay? I think it would add much more to the tragedy of Jason's death, but that's for another post (and this one is getting too long already oops). In conclusion, I think Caleo is bad for many reasons, but especially because it didn't have enough time to develop and the dynamic was simply too creepy for me to get invested in. Sorry for the super long post- Have a lovely day :D

[lilystyles]

bloom.

part four of the no strings attached series by @lilystyles

no strings attached masterlist & main masterlist xxx

authors note part four is hereeeeeee!! IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS. i was drowning in assignments these past few months which is why it has taken me so long. i am now on my winter break yay, so i should be able to update more regularly thanks for the patience and love XXXX

brief description y/n and harry go to dinner and something stronger blooms between them.

warnings! smut (f!receiving, blowjob, sex, cumplay, loss of virginity but is all very romantic) unprotected sex (pls wear a condom), swearing, alcohol abuse, overall just a mature read. around 11.6k words. (she's longggg omg)

inexperinced!virgin!reader x fwb!harry

* * * * *

Harry and Y/n had managed to keep their new ‘relationship’ a secret for a little over a month which Y/n was very proud of, normally she couldn’t lie to save her life. He’d come over most weekends or she’d go to his and they would eat food, sometimes they’d cook sometimes they’d go out, they would watch films, sometimes at home sometimes in the cinema. But by the end of the night after a few wines and with an old soul record playing in the background they’d pleasure each other. 

It was simply perfect. Whatever, wherever they were at was the happiest they had ever been. Except maybe the few Christmases they’d had together as roommates.

Y/n had never thought she could enjoy someone else’s company this much. Within time she grew the most comfortable she ever had been with someone. He’d seen her naked, he’d seen her cry, he’d seen her bleed, and he knew all of her secrets. She felt so free around him. It was a wonderful feeling, she only wished she could tell her other friends about it and how great it was. How happy she was, how happy he made her. This free feeling? Did they have that too? Is that why they’d always encouraged her to get a boyfriend and put herself out there?

But she knew it was just easier this way — their own little bubble. Keeping it their little secret. Sometimes things went to shit once they were said out loud. She’d noticed that and was worried if she shared it with them he would disappear.

They still hadn’t had sex yet, Harry wanted to wait for the right moment for that. He knew that virginity was a silly construct but he still wanted her first time having sex to be something she wouldn’t regret. He couldn’t live with himself if he ruined that for her. He didn’t want it to feel forced and corny and like it was this dramatic live changing event but he didn’t want it to be in the back of a car in a dark car park either. He wanted it to be a nice moment. She’d been ready for weeks, since that first night even. But when Harry told her waiting was the right thing to do she listened and was grateful for his delicate handling of the situation. He was more experienced so she listened.

She trusted him.

When Harry got a text from James that day that the guys all wanted to go on a camping trip for a long weekend in the middle of spring, he called her immediately. 

After a few rings, she answered. “Hi, Haz!” She sounded breathless but chirpy.

“Hey, Lovie.” He could hear clatter in the background. She must’ve been up to something. A loud bang echoed in his ear.“What are you doing, Cheeky?” He said in a playful tone.

She giggled. “I’m attempting to perfect a cookie recipe. I had a bit of an anxious day, so I needed a distraction.”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I’m happy to distract you.” He said softly, grabbing a jumper from his cupboard. He was about to ask if he could come over, not that he needed to at this point.

She wondered for a moment if he meant that in a sexual way or not. Because everything had begun to blur. Sure most of the time when she saw Harry they’d pleasure each other, but sometimes he just held her warmly in his arms. Sometimes they did nothing at all. What did it all mean? Sometimes he felt like a boyfriend, most of the time actually.

“I’m sure you have a life outside of being my distraction.” She said stubbornly, mixing the batter in the large bowl. Her arm was aching. The smell of spices and ginger filled her nose, her biggest struggle when baking was usually not eating all the batter.

“Not really. So, can I come over?”

She giggled again, softly. “Of course. See you in 20.”

“Getting in the car as we speak.”

“Drive safely please.”

He smiled. “Always, Bun.”

When he arrived at her apartment he barely had to knock before she had already opened the door. 

“Hi, H!” She chirped.

“Hi, Petal.”

She opened the door wide for him. “Come in.” She was in a pair of boxers he had left behind a few nights ago they were dark blue and a tight old One Direction shirt. She’d supported them in the early stages of their career, that shirt was from way back when. She was covered in flour and other cooking ingredients, looking as adorable as ever. Wearing those ridiculous bunny slippers of hers.

He shut the door behind him following her to the kitchen where something good was cooking. She was making another batch of her cookies (she was famous for them).

“I thought you could give these to Gem and Anne when you see them, you said they were coming down last time you were ‘round. Of course, you don’t have to. But I miss them, and they used to like my cookies.” She said shyly, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He never took his eyes off her.

He grinned stepping closer to her with his arms wide. “You are the cutest.”

She blushed. 

“You should come to dinner.” He pulled her into his chest, chin resting on her head. Smelling the scent of her delicious shampoo as he squeezed the plump flesh of her arms and shoulders.

She looked up, arms still wrapped around his hips, “That isn’t very friends with benefits of us though, is it?” Tucking her head into his chest, he smelt so good today. Like every day. The woodsy fresh bodywash he used was still very strong on his skin and his hair was extra fluffy. He must have showered this morning.

“I’d have asked you, either way, Love. Y’know Mum adores you. Gem too.”

She looked up. “Okay….When is it?”

“Tonight, that’s sort of why I wanted to come over. And, did you see the text James sent?”

She shook her head and walked over to the living room and found her phone buried underneath the dozens of blankets. She now saw the chat flooded with texts. 

JAMES

Hi guys! Is everyone free next weekend for the long weekend? Me and Daisy have planned a lil getaway at the beach. We would love to go all together like the old times. Bring a tent and gear. X

DAISY

 and bring your party pants!!

OLIVE

I’m so there. :))

FINNLEY

I’ll check, I’ve got exams coming up. 

But fingers crossed.

PENNY

i am definitely coming !!!

MICHAEL

Yes bet bet. Sounds like a plan

JAMES

Harry? Y/n? U two in?

She looked up. “Sounds nice, a lil’ getaway.” She liked the idea of doing nothing with Harry by the beach and amongst nature.

“I’ll go if you go.”

That made her smile and she looked down before typing.

me and harry shall be there xxx

After that, Harry managed to get roped into helping finish the cookie decorating before Y/n rushed off to get ready for dinner. Harry had booked a swanky restaurant, so Y/n felt like she had to dress up just a bit more than their usual dinners.

Once she was out of the shower, she stared annoyedly in her towel at her options. 

She remembered when Harry used to come home from touring and Anne would throw these big but intimate dinner parties and invite all his family and friends. Y/n could just wear jeans to that and they’d all bundle up around a bonfire after dinner and look at the stars. Harry and her would share a wine or two and it was simple. Harry loved how normal he felt with Y/n, even the memory of her was enough to ground him. He was glad she was back in his life, and he felt now he was ready for it and ready for her.

Harry came down the hall to her room and sat down on her bed grabbing one of her teddy bears and cuddling it in his big arms. The sight was rather funny, this big tattooed man and a little pink teddy bear cuddled up in pretty feminine soft-looking bedsheets. “I’ve got to change and pick some gifts up from back home before we go, is that okay?” He asked watching her dig through her clothes.

She nodded. “Of course! But what should I wear? What do you think?”

She was oddly nervous about tonight even though every Christmas when she went home to Holmes Chapel she went over to Harry’s Mums house for a drink and sometimes had the odd text with Gemma. She was still in contact with that side of her life it was just now she was Harry’s date to dinner. But she wasn’t his girlfriend but they’d think she was and what did that mean? Anne and Y/n’s mother had wanted them to get married for years now since they were around 10. Would this be the new talk of the town between all the mothers? She knew it was likely. Gemma was probably bringing her partner Michal, so it felt really official or something. 

He watched her, her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she stared at her cupboard. 

“I’m just wearing a shirt and slacks. Simple.” He replied. “Don’t think too hard about it, you’ll look pretty in anything, Bun.”

“Harry, I bet all of your outfit is custom-made Gucci. I can’t compete with that!”

He bit his lip to hold back his laugh. “Lovie, calm down. Don’t work yourself up. Just wear somethin’ you feel nice in. If yeh’ worried about me caring that’s silly, I like yeh’ in anythin’.”

She remained frowning and started to dig through the dresses she had. She found one hidden amongst them, she wore it to her birthday once. It was a long golden slinky dress with lace detail on the hem and neckline. It was very delicate. And even though it was spring she knew it would still be chilly that evening so she grabbed a long brown coloured coat from off the door that she had been wearing most days to Uni. It was warm and woollen and she loved it.

Harry busied himself by scrolling through his phone while she got ready. It didn’t take her long, once she was happy with her outfit and had added a light pink scarf, a handbag and some shoes she went to the bathroom to do her makeup and hair. 

She had already blow-dried her hair before and it was in a lovely natural state so she didn’t bother changing it. For makeup she kept it simple, only enhancing her features. When she was ready and came out Harry looked up upon the clicking of her heels. 

His cheeks turned pink at the sight. Jesus. “Beautiful, Bun.” He felt no words could do it justice.

She blushed a bit too at those words and that admiring expression of his. “Thanks, Harryyy. Ready? I’ll get the cookies and lock up and then we can go, okay?”

He nodded at her standing up and following her lead as she’d put the cookies into a tin. 

Once she grabbed everything else she needed they got in Harry’s car and headed to his house.

Y/n was browsing Harry’s playlists and noticed a new one in there which was unnamed only with a pink heart as the title. He wasn’t really paying attention to her on his phone, his hand was carelessly thrown on her thigh and the other the wheel, they were both pretty silent, it was calm. So he didn’t notice her scrolling through the songs — it was this soft, romantic, sleepy, soul playlist. Full of a lot of her favourites and it felt like a cosy evening. So she put it on and placed his phone back into her lap. 

Harry’s ears pricked up at the sound of the song, she’d found the playlist. Was it obvious it was for her? Well, about her?

“You found it.” He whispered, the song was only softly playing as background noise. He didn’t have the radio up loud. So she heard him.

“Yeah, it’s like all m’favs.” She said, smiling gently. 

He contemplated saying it, feeling his heart speed up as he spoke, “I made it f’you.”

She finally met his eyes and gave him this dazzling toothy grin. “Aw, that’s nice, Haz. Really sweet.” She leaned over kissing his cheek. She laughed when her lipstick left a stain and she rubbed it. “Sorry.”

He just gave her thigh a squeeze in reply worried he might reveal himself if he said anything else and a few songs later they arrived at his house. He told Y/n she could wait in the car because it would take him 10 minutes max to get dressed. 

She nodded and scrolled through her Instagram while she waited and then replied to a text from her Mum before she turned her phone off and waited in silence. He was quick as promised and when he came out the door he was looking devilishly handsome. 

She felt her body react to it. Her cheeks turned pink, her pupils grew in want, and her hands itch to touch him. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she felt a familiar twist of want in her stomach. He was in a silky black shirt that was long and tight on his muscular arms, his buttons were undone and showed off his tattoos. Which reminded her of when he had his long hair and he was this pure sex god rockstar of a man. He had a pair of black flared pinstripe trousers to match and a pair of black boots with red detailing. He looked so good she wanted to faint. She felt her thighs squeeze in want and she sighed at herself, don’t be such a perv!

He had added some extra rings and jewels from his usual bundle. Something caught her eye. It was this golden pendant with a moon and star on it, she’d bought it for him for his 19th birthday, when they first started living together. She hadn’t seen him wear it in a long time, she’d forgotten she’d even bought the thing. Y/n remembered buying it. Harry had been with her, they were at a market full of random things looking for cheap furniture for their place. 

They were walking past this large jewellery stall and both admired the rings and style. It was different from the normal places they’d seen. They had tonnes of it. A glint of something gold had caught her eye, it was that pendant. It was one of the only gold among the silver. She touched it in admiration and Harry peered over her shoulder, saying it was pretty and he liked it. Harry said he thought it was cool and matched a lot of his other jewellery. But without much thought, he walked off to look at some couches in the next stall. 

Y/n knew his birthday was coming up and asked the jeweller how much it was. He was this eccentric gentleman, who smiled at her. Showing the matching ring to her which was very dainty and feminine that she didn’t even think would fit Harry’s fingers. She explained that she just wanted the necklace as a gift for someone. But he said that he would not sell either piece without the other. At the time he explained it was made for two lovers, so they’d always be together, but Y/n replied it was just for a friend, truly believing he was just trying to get more money out of her. But now looking back she and Harry loved wearing them and matching. It cost her more money than she could afford at the time but she was drawn to it. Something magical in the crafting of them.

Her hand reached over to touch his neck fingers touching the chain. “Oh, my god. I forgot about that.”

He grinned. “Found it the other day.”

She wished she knew where the ring was. “I remember that ol’ thing.” Sometimes when she was in the crowd or if Harry knew she was watching the show, in the early stages that is, he’d lift up the pendant and kiss it or touch his heart where it lay. Especially if he was playing a song Y/n liked (or that was secretly about her). Sweet Creature was one he wrote for her.

When they arrived in a rather fancy area of London with very expensive restaurants and hotels, Y/n could’ve laughed. They’d both grown up okay, but they were just normal working-class families and they weren’t spoiled. She wished she could go back and tell young Harry who was always working away on his singing that’d he’d be here. She wished she could run into the bakery and tell him he’d be the most famous man ever. Tell both the young kids who were working selling pastries and bread that they would be here in a short time, together.

The valet collected the car and Harry slinked his hand into hers when they stepped out, and Y/n thought she spotted someone giving them a double-take. They quickly entered the restaurant, and the concierge took their coats for them. 

The restaurant was warm and heated, with all these crisp white tablecloths, mood lighting, and crystal glasses. The waiter immediately guided them to their table which was a fancy booth and Anne was already there waiting. She got up and instantly pulled Y/n into her arms. 

“I’m so glad Harry brought you, Darling! It’s so good to see, look at that gorgeous face of yours.” She squeezed her cheeks and kissed her forehead leaving a big mauve-coloured lipstick stain there. Y/n grinned so big and pulled her back in for another hug whispering sweet comments.

Anne was so lovely, Y/n had always loved her. She made one of her favourite people, and it made sense why he was so respectful and kind. So perfect.

Harry was next to be welcomed, bending down to be fussed over in her arms. Anne questioned if he’d been eating enough and began a tangent of worried remarks. He was such a momma’s boy, he could only smile gently at her.

When Gemma and Michal arrived they greeted Y/n too with hugs and kind comments and once their meals arrived all her tensions eased. She now knew she had been silly to worry. Harry’s family were just as lovely as him. She knew that already and this pressure of her being his date was stupid. They already liked her, they knew her, and they’d seen her grow up beside Harry. She was just Y/n and he was just Harry.

They ate wonderful dinners and drank expensive brands of champagne, along with some fancy French dessert Y/n had never tried that Harry insisted she ate. It was a perfect night and she was sad to say goodbye to them all. When Harry dipped to the bathroom for a minute Anne pulled her aside. 

“I’m so glad you two are getting closer again, you’ve always been my favourite of his girlfriends. And these cookies! So delicious, I love when you send them over at Christmas time. Harry steals the whole thing of them, usually. No one can keep their hands off them. Ever thought of selling them?”

“Thank you, Anne. Thanks for letting me come, I hope I didn’t intrude on your family night.” She didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. She wished she was one of his girlfriends and she was glad someone appreciated her cookies.

When Harry back came from the bathroom he saw Y/n hugging his mum, and his heart melted at the sight. 

Y/n was good with people, and his family had always loved her. She was so gentle and well-mannered. Their Mums were very close too which helped. When they had drifted Anne still updated him that Y/n was doing well, and he was always pleased to hear that.

Harry said his goodbyes too and promised them something about bringing Y/n to another family catch-up, she just smiled warmly with pink cheeks at the idea. She was leaning into his side, his big arm draped over her shoulders as he kissed her temple. 

The valet handed Harry the keys and they slid into his car before driving back home finally. It was around 10 in the evening and Y/n was absolutely blissful, her hand had found his lap stroking his thigh gently as a light patter of rain began to fall down on the windows. 

“You were wonderful tonight. Mums’ always loved you though, Petal.” His eyes were on the road but he was grinning anyway — unable to contain it. He felt so fucking happy.

She grinned softly. She was pretty sure she was all heart eyes for him right now. She imagined she probably looked like one of those cartoons where the guy sees a pretty woman walking down the road and his eyes pop out and his head starts spinning. 

“Thanks for bringing me, Harry. It was lovely. I had a really nice night.”

He looked at her as if to say ‘duh’, “Of course, I’d bring ya’ I know we didn’t talk for a while there, but I thought of you a lot. And y’know Mum, loves ya’. You’re very important to us all.”

She looked away from him blushing down at her free hand before nodding, and softly replying. “I thought of you too. Why didn’t you come to Mum’s New Year’s party? I waited for you the whole night…”

He sighed thinking back to what she was talking about. 

“I was in Japan.” He replied. “I really did contemplate flying back just for the party, but I wasn’t sure if y’wanted me too.”

She looked over at him. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know.” He replied softly.

The rest of the car journey was quiet, the gentle hum of the radio played along with the sound of rain softly hitting the glass. Harry didn’t speak he just moved his hand onto his thigh where hers rested, giving it a squeeze.

It didn’t take long to arrive back at his house, Harry opened the door for her and they quickly rushed inside to avoid the rain it had grown heavier and more wild. Y/n stepped inside first with a sigh, and Harry was not far behind. His hands slid onto her hips and lower stomach, and he kissed her neck just below her ear. 

She giggled, her hands finding his. He began to whisper sweet nothings to her but was cut off by her phone ringing. He grunted in annoyance but she said she had to take the call. 

He didn’t let go of her, clinging to her childishly and nuzzling his head into her soft shoulder. 

“Hi, Mum.” She said into the phone, Harry paused his touch.

He could hear the sound of Y/M/N over the phone muffled.

“Anne already told you?” Y/n wanted to laugh. She looked at Harry who sighed, of course, Anne had already rung Y/n’s Mum. 

“No. We aren’t dating Mum. We are just friends.” She sighed. Harry chuckled. 

They weren’t just friends now. Friends don’t make each other cum, they don’t kiss, or see each other naked, friends don’t do what they do. They were way past that line now. He knew her inside and out and now he knew her more intimately than anyone ever had. Harry wondered if he’d ever have the balls to approach the subject of their relationship and where he stood.

“Mum, we were never dating. Please stop telling people he’s my ex-boyfriend.” She laughed. Her Mum was a funny old thing.

“Okay, I gotta go now. Bye, Mum.”

The muffled voice spoke again.

“Yep. Yep. Okay. Love you too. Bye.” She let out a big sigh hanging up the phone. 

Harry was taking off his shoes and belt, he seemed sleepy but content. He was sat on the couch, he’d turned the mood lighting on. It was this warm glowy orange hue that washed over the room. He looked up upon hearing the end of the conversation.

“What is it with Mums?” He teased her as leant back against the plush white sofa. Y/n described it as sitting on a cloud. She napped on it all the time. His legs were all spread out and his head was thrown back.

Harry was so fucking hot. All the time. Did he never get tired of looking so handsome?

She shrugged, walking over to sit beside him and threw her legs up so she was laying on his lap. Her cheek rested on his thigh, and Harry’s painted fingernails scratched the roots of her hair. She made a little content sigh, letting her eyes flutter shut. Him touching her was like heaven.

“Mm. Feels nice, Harry.” He let out a little chuckle. She was practically purring from his touch, all curled up on his lap. Her hands were resting on his knee, and he found himself admiring them. So dainty and delicate. Sometimes he pondered adding a ring to that finger of hers. He thought she’d be a very good person to grow old with. She loved routines and nights in, but she was witty and intelligent, though she loved simplicity she was definitely not boring. She kept you on your toes.

He wanted to stay like this forever. She was practically falling asleep in his lap, like putty in his hands. She made the odd sigh or moan in contentment every now and then as he let her destress. 

She had been a bit stressed with Uni and her life at the moment, the work of it all was hard right now, so he wanted to do anything to help her calm down. The dinner had been a nice distraction for her, and she seemed a lot happier that evening than the text he had received from her that morning. 

She rolled over to her other side so her face was near his hip nose grazing against his skin which smelt so fucking good — he used this expensive woodsy cinnamon soap it made her want to lick him all over. He continued his slow and delicate scratch on her head and his other hand rubbed her exposed back. Her hands moved to under his shirt, trailing along his fern tattoos and grazing the wisps of hair that lead underneath his waistband. Her nose grazed his skin as she tiredly nuzzled into him, feeling her eyes shut. She felt so safe in his lap and arms.

It was so domestic. They had become so domestic. He wished every day he could come home and say something cheesy like ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and scoop her up into his arms and kiss her silly. He longed for nights like this watching TV as she rested on his chest, moving with the rise and fall of his chest. He wanted the mornings too. When she grumpily didn’t want to wake up unless it was from kisses and a coffee.

“Do y’want some wine?” He asked her, his voice all raspy.

They’d only each had a glass of champagne with dinner which had long since faded. Leaving them very sober.

“Sure. Red?” She asked sitting up. Her hair was slightly messy from his playing with it.

He nodded his hand finding her chin and lifting it up. “Whatever y’want, Lovie.” He kissed her forehead before getting up and moving to the kitchen. She finally took her heels off and removed her scarf placing them on the floor. She stood up, feeling the soft rug on her sore feet. 

She leaned down to the coffee table lighting some candles of his. She lit a soap-smelling one and then a lavender one. Then once she was happy with that she walked over to his records and looked for something nice to play. 

She stumbled upon a Marvin Gaye one and she giggled to herself. It was kind of cheesy love making music, so she picked that one. She placed the record down on the turn table part and placed the stylus down. It began to hum a gentle sultry song and she moved back to the couch. 

When Harry came back she was laying on the couch, spread out as she hummed along to Marvin Gaye. In his hands, he had a bottle red all the way from New Zealand and two pink-tinted wine glasses. 

He laughed at her. “Look at yeh, Minx.” He teased. 

She smiled up at him, her dress was hiked up and she looked like the embodiment of idleness. She sat up so he could join her and he poured them both a glass.

They only had two glasses each before Y/n started to droop tiredly against his shoulder. He found her particularly adorable like that. When he finished his final sip he helped her up so they could go to sleep, he blew out the candles too. She followed him lazily up the stairs and into the bedroom, arms wrapped around his waist and tummy. 

He found a random Fleetwood Mac shirt and some grey tracksuit pants for her to wear in one of his messy drawers.

She changed out of the dress and was so happy to get her bra off. It was this pretty lacy one that had Harry frothing at the mouth. Her undies followed once he began to change as well. He found a pair of black silky sleeping pants and didn’t bother with a top.

She followed him to the ensuite and found the cotton pads and makeup remover he had just for her. She began to wipe off the makeup and was glad to be rid of it. He was brushing his teeth silently beside her and she watched him through the mirror. He caught her and gave her a wink. 

She just made a little kissy face in response. He smiled against the toothbrush, a rim of foam around his lips. Once she was done with all that she threw the rubbish into the small bin beside the toilet. 

“Do you have face wash?” She said quietly.

He nodded, spitting into the sink. “Just up there.” He pointed to the cupboard which was also the mirror. 

She opened it, rising on her tip toes for a second.

“Blue.” He replied. She squinted trying to find the blue bottle, he had an array of skincare products. She saw a big dark blue bottle, she reached for it and he nodded showing her that was the right one. 

They both washed their faces together and he smiled watching it foam up against her skin. Once they had washed their faces Y/n finally brushed her teeth and they went to bed. 

She sighed slipping into the big fluffy bed. He had some pale blue sheets on this week. He slid in beside her wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her into him. He nuzzled his face into her neck and shoulder, the very slight stubble nipping her skin.

The backs of her thighs pressed against the front of his, her bum pressed up nicely against his soft silky pants and his hands squeezed the soft plump of her tummy in comfort. It wasn’t particularly late, but they loved to be inside Harry’s big bed and just cuddle.

“Y’were just perfect tonight. How someone hasn’t swept y’up and kept yeh I dunno…” He whispered kissing the top of her header, nose brushing against her hair, inhaling her shampoo. 

She flushed. “No one’s really tried, H.” He made her heart pick up at the comment. This man and his flattery.

“Lucky f’me. Means I can have ya’ all ta’ myself.” It was meant as a joke, but honestly, he selfishly did want her all to himself. She was so perfect.

She giggled. “Lucky you.”

He squeezed her closer and tighter. She giggled some more, wriggling in his grip. One of his hands moved to her upper thigh. She stopped and leaned into the touch. They didn’t talk they just started to relax into a sleepy silence, the chilly air making them want to bask in each other’s warmth even more.

He kissed her shoulder every now and then soothingly and Y/n shut her eyes. Basking in the feeling of him. His presence made her feel so safe she wanted to sleep often.

“Harry, do you ever think about how long we’ve known each other?” She asked randomly, as his hands continued to rub her body feeling her soft skin against his palms.

“All the time, Petal. Why?” He said softly, his voice was all raspy and gravelly. It made her feel something in the pit of her stomach. He made it even harder for her not to beg for him, this waiting game felt like edging.

“It’s just funny to me how much we have changed, but also how little we have too. I mean we’ve known each other since what? Daycare? And that little boy is still you…”

He understood exactly what she meant. Some things would never change about Harry even with age. Like, he would always be kind and always make an effort. He would always have 3 sugars in his tea unlike, Y/n who would prefer none. He would always enjoy cheesy romance films and love the idea of love. He will always admire old couples walking down the street. And she would always see the more practical side to love. 

She thought back to when they were younger teenagers and how he was rather distant from her in the sense that they were in the same friend group but funnily enough never really talked alone. Then she remembered that in their final year at school Harry, who had refused to dance with anyone else, asked Y/n to dance with him because he knew she’d been waiting for the boy she fancied to ask her all night. Sitting all pretty by herself, feeling like her efforts had been a waste. Only to find herself in the hands of him, spinning and laughing underneath the disco ball.

Then in University when they found out they were going to the same place they naturally found an apartment together, with a slight push from their mothers. Who felt at ease knowing their babies would have each other. Which was weird at first but soon they were at a furniture shop testing mattresses and giggling. 

She never felt uncomfortable around Harry, but once she was close to him she knew she was done for. She knew that for the rest of her life, she’d want him. Crave him close to her. He kind of felt that too, but in a different sense. 

It was more like they kept finding each other unplanned. During school they’d had so many lessons together, sitting with each other quietly. After school, his Mum had her family over for a meal. Then sometimes at the bakery, where they served familiar faces, and between breaks they sipped hot chocolate together. At the end of year dance Y/n and Harry were the only two without dates, and so he danced with her. When University rolled around no one else was going, and of course, Y/n had accidentally by luck of the draw picked the same school as him. They both happened to need a roommate and then they were roommates, then finally best friends. It was as simple as that, it just fell into place with her. He never forced anything. 

Oh, how he loved those memories of being her roommate and best friend. Whenever he thought back to those times he couldn’t help but grin. Neither had ever anticipated anything that would happen — him famous, and her here with him, cuddled in bed.

“It’s like we can’t not be in each other’s lives. You’re always there for me, showing up.” Was all he could manage to say. 

It’s true, when they had drifted and he did a tour for his first album she came to a show with her own money. 

Anne had called her up explaining in a panic how nervous he was for this tour. It was his first without the band. So, with little thought Y/n went in support because no one else could make it, Anne and Gemma both had stuff they couldn’t back out of. Anne knew Y/n would do it for Harry. Everyone knew she’d do just about anything for him except, well, him.

She was in the front row, dressed in a familiar outfit that took him back in time. It was this lavender dress from their school days. She’d worn it to the dance. It was bouncy and had big puffy sleeves, all short and fluffy.

He hadn’t expected it at all.

He came out, dancing and going wild for one of his louder and more upbeat songs. When he finally greeted the crowd he scanned them and said politely. “Hi, I’m Harry!”

She rolled her eyes. How was he still so devilishly charming?

He spotted something familiar, someone, familiar. Her eyes, her smile, and that dress took him back. Suddenly he felt like he was at home, in Holmes Chapel and he was just singing karaoke with his old friends. 

“Y/n?!” He said with a grin. Completely shocked, he shook his head in a puppydog like manner. The few longtime fans in the crowd cheered loudly, knowing her from photos off his Instagram. Anne had a few up on her Instagram too and they seemed to love Y/n in the comments (mainly).

She waved at him. Mouthing, “Hi, H!” She couldn’t contain her smile.

She could see in his eyes how much it meant to him. They got all glassy and soft. Even if they hadn’t spoken in a while she calmed him down immediately. He hadn’t realised how much having her there would calm him. 

She was like chamomile tea, a warm bed, all things nice and calming.

“Thank you for being here, for those of you who don’t know, Y/n is a very old friend of mine. We worked together in a bakery.” He jested.

Y/n giggled.

It felt right for him to sing this song next, “This next one is Sweet Creature.”

“I’ll always be there for you, H. You know that.” She said tenderly.

He rolled her around to face him so he could see her pretty face spewing these kind words. This deep pensive look in his eye. “I’m…I’m really glad you’re here with me…in this moment…this time in my life. I never really noticed how mundane life felt until you came back into mine.”

She felt herself melt like ice cream sitting in the blistering sun during a summer day. She kind of wanted to cry at how sweet he was. Harry wasn’t even her boyfriend but shit these feelings. They were real. Her body went even softer in his arms.

She lifted her hands up from her sides to his cheeks pushing his head down so she could lean in and place a kiss on his forehead. His hair smelt delicious like soap and peppermint.

He hadn’t expected that but he felt himself flush pink. The innocent touches are what made him blush the most. She was so gentle with him. 

“Oh, Harry.” She sighed, pulling away and tucking a stray curl of his behind his ear. “Me too.”

He smiled leaning forward. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly. “Of course.”

His hands slid around to her back, blunt nails scratching her skin perfectly underneath the Fleetwood Mac shirt. He leaned forward into her lightly pecking her puffy lips, remaining very gentle at first. Her hands moved to his neck fiddling with the hair that rested there as she leaned into him. She threw her leg up to his hip and he moved one of his hands to stroke it gently. It was so soft and romantic. 

As the kiss began to deepen she gripped his shoulders trying to press her chest even closer to his wanting to be as close to him as possible. He hummed softly, feeling her tits press into him. Her nipples were hard and he wanted them in his mouth. 

“Mm, you’re perfect.” He muttered against her lips.

She smiled into the kiss, and he used that as an excuse to slip his tongue in ever so slightly. That’s when the kiss began to grow more fiery and passionate. He nibbled her lip and pulled her body even closer letting her roll on top of him as she mewled. 

Her hips rocked needily against his silky pants and he moved his kisses down her jaw and neck peppering them frenziedly, loving the little whimpers and whines that escaped her lips. Which only spurred him on to continue further down to the top of her chest.

The way she was rocking against him was making him lose his mind. Her hands clawed his chest as she whispered quietly. “Please, Harry.” 

This tension had been building for weeks. She wanted him so fucking badly. It was always on her mind, and it was honestly distracting. She’d been trying to write an Essay that morning and all she could think of was him, and in a horny flurry, she imagined him bending her over the desk. Making her scream with pleasure as he often did.

“S’good f’me, Baby.” He breathed out. Hands finding her hips now, forcing them harder against him. Thinking filthy thoughts of him burying himself in her dripping pussy. 

Her lips pressed into his shoulder and then slowly moved down the side of his body, kissing along his tattoos, biting and licking some parts of his tanned bare skin. Until she was finally by his waistband, her pink chipped fingernails teased his snail trail of hair that led to underneath the silk. His skin was so soft there.

His eyes became all hooded, animalistic-like. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her. But he remained calm and gentle with touches. His hands found her hair, all his rings were off so she felt no sting of metal on her skin. His fingers were running through it delicately and moving it away from her beautiful face.

“Prettiest girl in the world.” He muttered and she blushed resting her cheek on his thigh. 

“Thank you, Baby.” She sighed. 

She only ever let those pet names slip during these moments and it made him so fucking needy for her. He just smiled softly, at ease. “Of course.”

“Can I taste you, H? Please?”

He let his eyes shut and he softly whined as her hand palmed against his pant-covered cock. He was stiff beneath her touch, and she could feel him throbbing at the contact. “You can do whatever you want to me, Angel.”

She giggled teasingly giving his prick a firmer squeeze. “Don’t promise me that. We’ll never leave this bed.”

He took a shaky breath at her words, she was just so fucking hot without even trying. She literally just spoke her mind, and it had him frothing. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He replied breathily.

He opened his eyes, thinking back to all those nights in school when he’d dreamt of her sexually. He’d felt guilty a lot of the time for it of course, but she was just so fucking pretty and sexy without realising it. Like when they went swimming during the summer and she wore this cute little pink floral bikini, he would go home and in the summer heat, he would imagine it was her wrapped around him. He’d probably wanked to every filthy fantasy he’d ever had. Her sucking him off, maybe him fucking her throat watching tears spill from her eyes. Him eating her pretty pussy and making her feel so good she saw stars. Making love to her softly and romantically as she deserved, and sometimes he thought of fucking her roughly and needily. In different positions for hours. All the ones he could think of. But every time he came, he’d come back to and realise it was just his fist and not her mouth, hand, or precious pussy.

But now she was here in front of him, eyes all big looking up at him, ready and eager to take him into her mouth. She was real and she wanted him.

“Yes, Angel.” He rasped.

These moments always felt surreal to him. Especially because of how well they knew each other, now that they had started to explore each other’s bodies it was the most vulnerable they had ever been. No one would ever know them better than each other. 

Which is why her hand that was ghosting over his thick cock made him feel so close already from a mere touch.

She was dream-like.

“Mmm.” He whined. He was sensitive to her touch always, but tonight it was more than usual. They both pulled his pants off together so she could rest between his thighs, her mouth right in front of his leaking pink tip.

She was feeling a bit more vocal tonight. He loved it. “You have such a pretty dick, Harry. So big and veiny.”

He laughed softly, his hand running through his hair which had fallen into his eyes. “You think so?”

“I never really thought I could actually feel that way until I saw yours. It’s so pretty like the rest of you. It makes sense you have such a nice cock, it matches.” This new side to her had him dying in want.

God, he just wanted her so badly. He wanted to feel those pink slick lips around his cock, and watch her take him into her tight throat. Last night he’d even cum to the thought in the shower.

“You’re so sweet to me, Bun.”

She gave a gentle smile in response before shuffling closer to his glistening prick. Pursing her lips slightly as a string of spit dripped landing on the ruddy head, his breath hitched at the contact. His hands gripped the sheets roughly. When she finally leaned down close to him she did a signature kiss like always. The sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“Such a good girl for me, Baby.” He muttered his hands coming up to her hair pulling it away so he could see her adorable face as she kitten licked against his slick shaft. Her face was flushed pink like always when they’d been kissing, so pretty. She clenched her thighs at that comment and he noticed, very well aware now how much she loved his praise. Loved being told she was good for him, because she truly wanted to be good for him.

Leaning down further she fully enveloped his tip into her mouth, her tongue was a welcome contact against him and he whined loudly. “Fuck.” He said softly and involuntarily throwing his head back.

She had gained more confidence since that night on New Year’s Eve, she knew how he liked and had learnt to make him cum in mere minutes now. She had learnt to take most of him in her mouth too. Which she was surprised she could do considering how large he was.

As she swallowed him deeper into her mouth he heard a little choking sound as she went deeper than usual. Her nose grazed his navel and he cried out. She was taking him so fucking deep, the trail of hair tickled her noise.

“Shit, just like that sweet girl, so fucking good, deep. Fuck.”

She began bobbing her head faster and could feel him throb against her tongue, she would never be used to how large she was ever but she had started to learn ways to take him. He moaned loudly, unable to contain himself at her rapid pace. She pulled up for air for a second her hand coming down to stroke his slick cock at the loss of her throat so he wouldn’t miss her touch.

“H, y’can guide my head, it’s okay. I wanna make y’feel good. Move your hips too if that’s what you want.” She said slightly out of breath, spit and precum dribbled down her chin.

He looked at her eyes for reassurance and he saw a content look in them. “Okay, Love, just tap my legs if it’s too much.”

She nodded. “Ok, H.”

He smiled and she moved back down, taking a deep breath before she took him back into her mouth. He sighed, “Ah, mm.”

His hands had moved into her hair holding her head soft yet firm on his cock, when she made it to about halfway around him her tongue was swirling delicately against his engorged prick and he felt so close to cumming already. It had only been a few minutes.

She was struggling to stop her legs from squeezing together, his sounds made her so wet she felt herself dripping down her thighs. He began to gently guide her head into a bobbing rhythm and he felt a drip of precum fall out his head and he knew if they’d kept this up in another few minutes he’d cum. 

“Oh god, Y/n, your so fucking perfect taking me like this. Letting me use you.” He uttered, “Such a good girl letting me take your mouth like this. So filthy. My filthy girl.”

She moaned softly against his twitching cock and he whined, pulling her head up off him. She took a large breath in. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” She said quickly. 

He shook his head quickly. “No, you were fucking perfect, I just don’t want to cum yet.”

She looked at him, eyes all doe-like and lips sticky with his slick. Cocking her head to the side, “Why not?” 

He moved his hands to her shoulders. “Let me take care of you, I wanna make you feel good. You’ve been so good for me today. Such a sweet little thing. Let me take of my sweet girl.”

My sweet girl. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat.

She listened but pouted at his request. Sad his cum wasn’t down her throat. “Harryyy,” She whined. 

“What is it, Love, hmm?” But he knew full well what she was whining about. It had been apparent from the first night that Y/n loved his cum. She loved making him cum. In her mouth, on her tits, whatever he wanted. She often daydreamed of it in other places. Harry knew this.

She just continued to pout. “Enough whining. Be good f’me.” He ordered. “Let me take care of you. ”

Her face remained pouty but she spread her legs for him anyway and he yanked her pants down in one motion, she opened her legs for him widely and his hands stroked her thighs feeling the soft skin there. He motioned for her to take her shirt off as well. She threw it across the room.

He moved his hand up to her mouth tapping against her wet lips, he did that when he wanted her to suck on them.  She opened her mouth for his fingers making sure to swirl her tongue around them just to tease him a bit. He moved his eyes from her glistening pussy to her mouth and cheeky expression. He pulled them away. The popping noise made him smirk. 

“I don’t exactly need the help, you’re already dripping for me.” He teased, running his newly lubricated fingers against her puffy clit.

She moaned as her hips stuttered against his gentle hand. He laughed at her.

She wanted to be embarrassed but this being the millionth time Harry was between her legs she had given up hiding how wet he made her. Most mornings he wanted to start the day that way, right between her soft thighs pressing into his cheeks. 

“How could I not be, Harry? You drive me mad.” She replied her hands moving to his hair.

He smirked biting his lip. The heat of his breath made her squirm against him and his nose bumped her swollen clit. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss there. The taste of her was sweet and tangy on his tongue, and he was addicted. He began to lap up all the leaking arousal, making a filthy sound in his silent room. 

Her moans were soft and freely escaping her mouth, thighs squeezing against him as she tugged on his soft hair. She felt at complete ease underneath his harsh tongue. 

All her stress was melting away with his lick and suck, this was such a good outlet for her worries. She only thought of him. His mouth, his moans, and his prick.

“Harry,” She whimpered at the feel of his firm tongue. “Shit.” She breathed throwing her head back into his pillows, screwing her eyes shut. 

She felt his fingers glide up and down against her weeping hole until he finally slipped one inside. Feeling her clench against him firmly, he wished he was inside of her right now. Her velvety walls were so wet against his hand and he felt her dribble onto his hand as he began to speed up his thrusts. He added another finger.

His tongue didn’t stop suckling on her clit and curled his fingers against her, feeling the way her pussy stuttered against his fingers in an irregular clench. A telltale sign she was getting close to the brink of her orgasm.

“Jesus, Harry, how are you s’good at tha’? Think m’gonna cum soon.” She purred as her hips lifted up and her back arched off the bed.

He pulled his mouth back for a moment, his fingers speeding up and going deeper, as he rasped from wet lips. “S’okay Baby, cum for me, let go. Be good n’ cum f’me. I want it.”

She let out a mewling whine, tugging his hair harder. It was as if his words was the final thing she needed before she felt the start of her pleasure rise in her stomach.

He quickly moved his mouth back down and felt her puffy clit throb against his tongue and a drip of her slick fell down his chin as she let out a guttural cry.

A wave of bliss spasmed from her stomach to her stretched-out pussy, and she felt it pulsate over her entire body. Her eyes squeezed shut and she tugged his hair hard enough that he grunted against her.

“M’cumming! Fuck!” She felt lightheaded.

He pulled up for air, pumping his fingers quickly. “Good girl.” He praised breathily. Spent from working hard to make her cum.

When he felt her come down fully from the high of her climax he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. “Mmm. I love how you taste, Petal. Sweet.”

She let her thighs drop in fatigue and she lifted her hand to her sweating forehead. Her blissed expression made him grin.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” Her tummy clenched at his words.

Her hand grabbed his shoulder and he moved back on top of her pulling her into a chaste kiss. She could taste the tang of herself on his lips. His tongue slid against hers and he tasted of her. She moaned softly into his mouth. He pulled back, “You’re so beautiful.”

She bumped her nose into his. “Harry?”

He kissed her jaw, “Yeah, Love?”

“I want you inside of me. Please.” She sighed, pupils dilated. “I want to be close to you, Harry.”

“Are you sure?”

She mewled. “I want you so bad, Baby. Please.”

How could he say no to her? She was all sweet and whiny, and her naked in his bed. “Okay. I want that too.” 

He pecked her lips softly before pulling away. “Gimme one second.” 

He got up off the bed and moved over to his bedside table finding a box of matches and lighting the few candles he had there.

She giggled at him. “What are you doing?”

He just grinned, “Making it special, Lovie.” 

She felt her chest flutter and a big toothy grin made its way to her face. Harry knew that Y/n was more practical, he was the hopeless romantic out of the two of them. But he wanted to make Y/n feel special, he wanted to be sappy for her.

He got up again walking into his cupboard.

“What else are you up to back there?!” She said with a giggle. 

When he came back out he had a bag with something in it. It was hard for her to see because it was dark. She squinted trying to understand. 

“Hold on stay there.” He said nipping his lip, he grabbed a handful of contents from the bag. Before throwing them onto the bed around her.

She opened her eyes looking to her sides under the dim light, plucking one up in between her fingers. “Is that rose petals?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, scratching his neck nervously. “I know it’s cheesy, but I wanted you to feel special.”

She couldn’t believe he went to all that effort. 

“Anything else?” She prodded.

He smirked. “One more thing.” He pulled something out from behind his back. It was one of those cheap plastic roses and he put the stem in his teeth and raise his brows. 

She laughed loudly, gently pushing his shoulder. “You are so corny!”

He pulled the rose out of his mouth, offering it to her goofily, feigning a gentlemanly gesture. “Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of being the first. I feel so lucky. It’s truly a privilege.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh shoosh.”

“I’m serious. I know it’s silly, but I feel grateful that I can be with you in this way. You’re my best friend. You’re very special to me.” He said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into the warmth of his palm.

“You’re my best friend, H. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my first. I trust you.”

He felt his heart swell and he moved back on top of her. His arms were straight beside her head. 

“Kiss me please.” She said breathily.

He moved his face closer, nose bumping into hers as he pecked her top lip. She met him in the kiss her hands glided over to his shoulders. Both their eyes fluttered shut. 

There was little urgency in their kiss, though Y/n felt herself ache for him but she felt no urge to rush him. Harry always liked to take his time. He used his free hand to slide down to her hip gently squeezing the flesh there. 

He started to scatter his kisses down along her jaw and nipped her ear. She sighed softly letting a moan slip in contentment. Her hands moved to his hair softly massaging his head. 

His kisses travelled further down to her neck and he sucked harshly against her nipping the soft skin, she hissed in pleasure and he licked back over the spot to soothe her. Her pretty sighs of contentment made him smile against her skin.

His lips grazed further down across her chest and he could hear the pounding of her heart. 

“Are y’nervous, Bun?” He asked, eyes looking up to meet hers.

She looked down at him. “A little but, I don’t need to be do I?”

“No, it’s just me.”

She smiled, moving a curl away from his forehead, “Just Harry.”

“Exactly, just me. But you know that if you wanna stop at any time you tell me. Or if it hurts, or for any reason just say it and I’ll stop. We can just cuddle, I won’t mind.” He replied. 

“I know, I will.” She said.

“Good girl.” He kissed her heaving chest as he moved further down lapping her nipple up into his mouth.

She squirmed her hips against the thigh that rested between her legs, he could feel how wet she was against his bare skin. “Ah,” She cried softly.

His free hand massaged the tit that wasn’t in his mouth softly. Her back arched into his touch. “Oh, Harry, you are so good at that. Fuck.”

He chuckled lightly moving back up to her face. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Mhmm.” 

He kissed her forehead in response, pulling off her.

“Where are you going?” She grabbed his arms. 

“To get a condom.”

“No, it’s okay,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” 

He felt his prick twitch at her words.

“Okay.”

Her legs wrapped around his waist and he moved his free hand down to grab ahold of himself. She felt the head of his cock pulsating against her sensitive clit. “M’ gonna go slow, okay?”

She nodded, her chest heaving into his. “Mmkay.” She breathed.

He dragged the tip down to her weeping hole, hissing at the contact of it.

“You okay?” She asked.

He pressed his forehead into hers. “Yeah, you?”

She nodded. 

That was enough reassurance for him to start to slip inside, his cock was so heavy in need. Even though he had gotten her more comfortable and stretched for him with his fingers it still stung as he pushed inside. 

Only the head of him was inside and she already felt so stretched. 

“S’big.” She muttered.

He was going very slowly, his eyes trained on her face, and the pinched expression she was sporting. Worried that it was too painful. Knowing he was rather large. 

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and she squeezed back. “Keep going, please.” She said.

He nodded in reply, slowly pushing his hips further. She sighed in discomfort, feeling the veins of him against her. She clenched and he hissed. Pushing further, he felt his cock splitting her open.

He noticed her eyes were glassy and a tear slipped from her eye as she bit her lip.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked rushedly. 

She shook her head. “No, keep going, just stings a bit.” She tried to explain. 

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Mhm.”

He rocked forward and he felt him slip into her further. “M’nearly there, Love,” He soothed, kissing her temple.

When he rutted one final thrust his balls pressed against her ass. They both whimpered at the contact. 

Her eyes were dilated as she felt completely full of him. “Shit, Harry.” Her legs were wrapped around his lower back holding him close. 

“You’re so tight, fuck me,” He whined. She was clenching rythmically around his throbbing prick.

“You can move,” She knew that soon the pain would become pleasure, it would melt away soon, it was already beginning too.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, smelling her perfume and natural scent as he moans grew louder muffled by her shoulder. His thrusts began shallow and slow and she whined loudly. Her arms wrapped around the expanse of his back and she scratched along his shoulderblades.

He hissed at the pain, loving the sting.

“Harry,” She cried out when he started to speed up into her, ramming against her sensitive spongey spot that made her lose her mind, he was the only one who could reach that deep inside of her. She felt him all the way in her stomach. She was already sensitive from her previous orgasm and was keening at the feeling of his slow needy rutting.

He whined at the feel of her clamping down on him. “Fuck, Y/n.”

The pain had subsided to pleasure, the sting hardly noticeable now. She squeezed his shoulder, “Feels good, H.”

He started to speed up now, pounding into her at a ruthless speeed. “Shit, Baby, feel s’good on m’cock.”

He was needily moving into her, as his head remained buried by her neck breathing in the delicious sent of her. It had been a long time since he’d had sex and since he had only been with Y/n for these few months now he’d only had blowies or handjobs, which were great don’t get him wrong, but nothing and I mean nothing compared to her wet tight pussy. God, he’d dreamed of it. Nights and nights he’d lay awake dreaming of it. Dreamed of burying himself in there deeply, and the little sounds it would make.

He knew the right thing to do was to wait, and he was so glad he did. But it meant he was worried he might cum inside her already, the tension building all this time meant he was so pent up. He just wanted to release all his sexual frustrations from these past few months. She was so perfect against his cock, like it was made to wrap around him. 

“Like this pussy was made for me.” He rambled.

“I can feel you in my tummy, H.” She whined shutting her eyes, and he pulled up from her should moving his hand to press onto the now bulging flesh of her tummy. With each pump he felt her clench against his prick and saw the faint bulge of his cock. He could feel himself with each thrust, as they both moaned.

He moved that hand from her tummy down lower to her swollen clit that was begging for attention. Rubbing harsh circles and her hips twitched. “Oh god, Harry,”

He wanted to feel her cum on his cock, he was desprate for the feeling, he could already tell she was getting closer to the brink from the stimulation on her puffy senstive clit and his thick prick pounding into her. The clamping of her pussy was growing irregular and when his thrusts went particularly deep inside of her, her eyes rolled back.

She felt euphoric, this white blistering hot feeling was shooting through her from head to toe. 

She was honestly surprised how good he made her feel, when she was younger and all her friends were losing their virginities they told her it hurt and that it was awkward. Or that they didn’t cum, and there was no foreplay. She had expected that Harry would know what he was doing, but even that didn’t live up to this moment. She had also known that it may not be as pleasurable until later on but she was feeling like she was on cloud fucking nine.

“You’re so pretty, such a pretty little thing.” He mumbled as he placed some kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

She mewled her back arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered with a slight disbeleif in her eyes, “think you’re gonna make me cum, Baby.” 

He watched her with a sultry grin, as her eyes screwed shut and the hands that were on his back started to scratch along the tan flesh once again much sharper. “Don’t stop,” She panted. 

“Such a good girl f’me. Y’gonna come on my cock?” He asked teasingly, with a pant.

She could only whine in response, biting her lip at the intensity. 

“Atta’ girl. Be a good girl and cum on m’cock.” He praised. 

She started to shake, the feeling of his fingers still on her clit was pushing her to her orgasm. Her tummy clenched and she couldn’t contain her hips from squirming up into his. This intense wave of bliss rushed through her as waves of pleasure melted from her chest to her stomach all the way down to her throbbing pussy that was wrapped around him. 

Her heart was thumping in her chest as her entire body twitched in delight and climax. His prick never stopped it's pounding as he let her orgasm ride out. It was longer than the first one and like nothing she had ever felt before. She’d only dreamt of this kind of pleasure and usually Harry was the one giving it too her. She felt like it was an out of body experience, her head became lightheaded and stars appeared in her vision. She hadn’t even heard her self crying out, until she came back too. 

He slowed down to allow her a moment to catch her breath. Her pussy felt so senstive that even these more gentle and tame strokes had her basically sobbing with pleasure. 

“I’m close, Sweet girl,” He hissed and he began to speed up once more now his thrusts were sloppy and an uneven rhythm. Her orgasm had made him lose any last bit of control he had.

She could barely speak she was so spent. “Please,” She didn’t know what exactly she was begging for.

He pushed his lips into hers and trapped her in a kiss, her hands found their way into his thick hair which was coated in a light dampness from sweat. She moaned against them and he was whimpering into her swollen lips. He pulled his lips off hers for a moment as he whimpered a desprate, “Gonna’ cum.”

She managed to breath out a soft, “Cum for me Harry,”

The delicacy of her voice made him lose it and he felt his cock twitch in release, hot spurts of his cum shot up inside her and she felt him fill her up completely. He whimpered the most despratelty she’d ever heard and his head fell into her neck. “Fuck,” He breathed. 

Her pussy was still clenched around him tightly. “That was…wow.”

She giggled. “That was perfect.”

He lifted up from her shoulder and captured her lips into a kiss. It was long and tender and much softer than then the urgent act they’d just comitted. He itched to say it, those three words, but all that came out was. 

“You’re gorgeous, Y/n.”

“Thank you, Harry,”

He kissed her forehead. “Come on, let's clean you up.”

if you enjoyed please follow me to see the next parts coming soon ily 🫶 feel free to check out my masterlist xxx & feel free to request me too!!

[mixelation]

reborn au; itachi pov ->

NOTE: my headcanon is that people didn't immediately connect the dots between naruto and his parents in part because kushina actively hid she was pregnant. i forget the exact wording, but biwako tells kushina off for talking to mikoto in a way that implies kushina was meant to keep her pregnancy on the down low. so my hc is that once the baby bump was too big to hide with clothing, kushina started limiting public appearances. so there's a line in here where she says she disappeared bc the pregnancy left her bedridden-- that's her cover up story

(no proofreading we die like men)

***

Itachi was four when his father brought him to a battlefield. 

He remembered this happening, the first time around. It was one of his earliest memories. This time around, he was just starting to become aware of himself. The entire lifetime shoved into his little head had been confusing and upsetting, and his first few years of life had felt like a blur. 

But now he knew with vivid clarity who he was. He was Uchiha Itachi, murderer, criminal, and traitor, and he did not want to go. But he also did not know how to make his father stop. 

“I don’t like this,” he repeated again and again. “I want to go back.”

“That’s good,” his father told him, his grip tight on his arm. “You’re not supposed to like this.”

Itachi stared down at a man gasping at his feet, and he remembered his father lying dead on their floor. He remembered his mother, his auntie, his cousin… 

The dying shinobi made a pathetic attempt to gouge a kunai into Itachi's tiny leg, and he stepped back. The man’s breath was a horrible rattling, and he was going to die if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. No help was coming for him. It would be more merciful if Itachi killed him. 

I think I hate him, Itachi thought of Fugaku. He bent to pick up the dying man’s kunai. Fugaku didn’t even wince as Itachi dug the blade into the man’s neck. Quick and painless. 

Fugaku looked… almost approving. 

“War forces us to make hard choices. Sometimes impossible choices,” he said. “Remember that.”

Perversely, Itachi felt the urge to laugh. 

Maybe he hates me, he thought. 

xXx

Itachi hated the Academy. He hated the chatter of other children, their looks of awe and jealousy and fear in turns, and he hated the way teachers looked at him. He thought about playing at being average, at grasping for the childhood he never had. But every conversation he had with a child annoyed him, and every patronizing look from a teacher made his eye tick just a little more. 

“You did what?” laughed Shisui, the only child Itachi could stand. “Genjutsu? Itachi, they’re going to notice.”

Shisui was deep in the woods, practicing with kunai. Shisui was three years older than Itachi and also still in the Academy, but Shisui had permission to skip lectures for personal training. Itachi did not. Instead, he had placed an illusion on his teacher and all his classmates to think he was still there. 

“They won’t notice,” he told Shisui. “They never do.”

“Well, whatever,” Shisui replied. “You can practice with me, but I’m not gonna bail you out if you get caught.”

Itachi knew this was a lie. Shisui would lie for him. He lied to Itachi's parents for him all the time. 

This Shisui was not old enough to dole out the comforting pieces of wisdom of Itachi’s old life. But he was clever and mature enough to hold a real conversation, and he never looked at Itachi like everyone else did. His smile always cheered him up, and he occasionally told a joke bad enough to get Itachi to crack a smile. 

Shisui threw more kunai, and Itachi knocked them out of the air with shuriken. Shisui frowned and tried a more complicated throw. Itachi purposefully missed one of the kunai, just to let him see how off his aim was with this throw. 

Shisui groaned. 

“You don’t have to look so happy,” he chided, stepping forward to pry the stray kunai out of the tree bark. It wasn’t anywhere close to the target. 

“It’s not that,” Itachi replied. He hesitated. “I got some good news this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Shisui asked, flipping the kunai in his hand with a thoughtful expression on his face. Trying to recalculate what had gone wrong with his throw, no doubt. 

Itachi was sure he wasn’t meant to share this secret, but also it was burning its way through his heart. 

“I’m going to be a big brother,” he said. 

Shisui blinked, his face filled with surprise. Then a broad grin spread across it. 

“That’s awesome, cuz. Congratulations.”

Shisui shoved the kunai back into his weapons pack before throwing his arms around Itachi. Itachi leaned into the hug, gripping Shisui back tighter than he needed to. Every hug terrified him with the thought that it could be his last. 

He’d been terrified that Sasuke somehow wouldn’t exist in this timeline, that maybe his even stranger personality would poison his parents for more children, or that any minor change in his actions might cause some other younger sibling to be conceived at a different time. But his mother’s projected due date was close to Sasuke’s birthday. Itachi was now more terrified that Sasuke would exist, and then Itachi would lose him anyway. 

xXx

Sasuke’s birth was almost exactly how Itachi remembered it. The date and time were the same. The squashed little baby face was the same. The weight of him in Itachi’s arms was the same.

My little brother, Itachi thought, Sasuke cradled to his chest. So you made it too. 

Itachi’s parents let him take two days and a weekend off of school to be with his new brother. He asked to hold Sasuke whenever he could. On the Monday he was meant to go back to school, he went to the Hokage.  

Itachi barely remembered Namikaze Minato. But he’d gathered his family was friends with him somehow, and he used this to get into his office. 

“Early graduation…?” Minato looked exhausted. Itachi did not remember this from his previous life’s memories, but then again those memories were the faint ones of a true child. “Itachi, you're a very talented student, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Minato lectured him about social bonds and having time to grow. Itachi pointed out he didn’t have friends and wasn’t sure he could make them, when he was intellectually on a much higher level than other children. For some reason, Minato didn’t like this argument. 

“I want to have more time with my new brother,” Itachi admitted. 

“Being a genin is busy work,” Minato warned him. 

“I know,” Itachi replied, “but I could have a more flexible schedule, and eventually I’ll be able to pick my own missions.”

Minato’s lips thinned, unconvinced. Itachi considered genjutsu. But he wasn’t sure how resistant the Hokage would be, and if he didn’t do it flawlessly, he absolutely wouldn’t be getting anything he wanted out of him ever again. 

“I’m just so bored,” Itachi tried, mimicking the way Shisui would complain. It sounded foreign and bizarre on his tongue, but it did make Minato’s lips quirk up. 

“I’ll think about it,” Minato allowed.

Three weeks and two interviews with the headmaster to test his skills later, Itachi was a genin after only four months at the Academy.

“That’s my son,” Fugaku told him, and his mother cooked all his favorite foods for dinner with a placid smile on her face, like she also wouldn’t burn the village down and tear her family apart. Itachi tried not to vomit. 

For Sasuke. 

xXx

Itachi did not care about breaking records. He did not care about accolades or prestige. He did not care about his new genin team or saving the Hokage’s soon to be cut short life. He only cared about Sasuke. 

And so, as far as he could see, he had a choice come October tenth. He could attempt to interfere with Obito when he came to attack Konoha with the Kyuubi, or he could stay by Sasuke’s side. 

Itachi knew he could not take Obito as he was. Itachi was brilliant for his age and could take on most adult shinobi, but his chakra reserves were low and his physical prowess was limited by his age. He could not engage Obito in combat or take control of the Kyuubi with his own sharingan. He could not do what the Hokage was about to die trying to do. 

He considered spying or trying to gather new information. But he already knew a great many things about the man pretending to be Uchiha Obito, and he would not risk Sasuke’s life by abandoning him. He was an officially recognized shinobi now, even if he was only six and only a genin. He would have access to some avenues of shinobi gossip and records he hadn’t had in the past, and when he inevitably flew through the ranks, he’d get more.

On the night of the Kyuubi attack, Itachi made sure to stay home, with baby Sasuke. 

Curiously, nothing happened. 

Nothing very important continued to happen for several weeks. It bent Itachi out of shape, not knowing what was happening. He snapped at his teammates and skipped practices to hover over Sasuke’s crib. How could he defend Sasuke from danger, if he didn’t know where danger was coming from?

His Jounin sensei reported him as unstable, paranoid, and uncooperative. Whatever. 

And then one day he came home to find the Hokage and his wife in his living room. 

“Our babies are going to be best friends, you know!” the Hokage’s wife was yelling. Mikoto had her hand over her face to hide a giggle. They’d propped the babies against each other to sit up for a photo, like balancing two cards to make a house. 

Minato was sitting on the couch with the camera in his hands. Fugaku sat at the other end, looking less stern than usual.  

“Oh my gosh, Itachi-kun!” Kushina yelled, whipping around as he stepped into the room. “You get in the photo too!”

Itachi sat dumbly while Kushina piled babies onto him. He had not planned for this at all.

[thesweetestdevotion]

i've seen tarot on as boyfriends,husbands and crushing too. I'd like to ask thoughts on kids or being a dad. (But not too detailed) just wildly curious on how they see this stuff. The request is for jake of Enhypen

*just asked for fun and entertainment only, if its too uncomfortable, please ignore this. Thankyou🍭

Enhypen Jake Thoughts on Parenthood:

Dice: Sun, Aquarius, 11th House

Tarot: Three of Swords Reversed, Eight of Wands Reversed, Six of Wands, The Fool Reversed, Three of Coins, Five of Swords, Five of Wands, The Hermit, Four of Coins Reversed, The Sun, Three of Wands

I think he’d be a very involved hands on parent. I dont know if he has little siblings or cousins, but he may be familiar with being around children and he feels like he knows a lot, but still wants to learn more about parenthood and children before he commits to having one. I think he feels like children should be raised in a collaborative environment, where not just the parents but the community can come in and help the child grow and develop. He wants to have a good community, or live in a good place to raise children. I think he really seems very knowledgeable about it hehe. He’s very aware of the negative sides of parenthood, like the chaos and the heartbreaks that can happen while raising children. I think he feels like he would need to slow down before settling down to be a parent, he doesn’t want his hectic life to affect the children in any way. Overall he seems optimistic about it though, he might think about the possibility of parenthood constantly because he seems very mature about it. he’d be those parents that are strict, but also encouraging. Not someone to stifle the children or force them to fit in a box just to please him and others. he wants to nurture individuality and uniqueness, whilst also allowing room for growth. He definitely seems like he’d be a good parent, he’s very realistic about it. He could choose to have children when he is older though, and the arrangement might not be the most traditional if that makes sense. He’d be like those cool dads that take you to the museum, teach you cool skills, is strict but not unforgiving. He does seem a bit cold hehe, like he’s not sure if he’d be able to be super nurturing or affectionate, but he wouldn’t be standoffish either. Maybe he’s just not that good at showing emotion in general and the vulnerability is something that scares him. He’s very good dad material!!!

xxx

[namtanlovesfilm]

hello axelle, i am a long time listener first time caller! i don't know much about offgun besides the facts that i learned from following you and from time to time you mention off's toxic masculinity phase. i thought that at some point i'll just naturally learn about that period and why do you call it like that, or like i will stumble upon some funny moments from that era, but it still didn't crack it. if it's not a problem, could you tell me more about it? i am nosy! thank you in advance :)

hi hi! thanks for calling in to ryansjane radio lol! being nosy is a MOOD! so basically what I call off's "toxic masculinity era" is the beginning of offgun from 2016 to around 2018. tbh off has been evolving every year & becoming softer and *cough* gayer *cough* but in 2016 to 2018 that man was trying SO HARD to put on an uber masculine, kinda player, kinda frat bro persona. this is something you can witness in offgun fun night season 1 compared to season 2 where his energy is entirely different only 2 years apart. I'm gonna try to find the clips again but it's gonna be hard since there's so many offgun clips & compilations since they've been a pairing for over 8 years, but a few example of toxic masculinity off include:

him lowkey complaining his older pairings with women didn't get popular but his gay ship did

him not wanting to give gun ANY affection and looking hella distant

oh yeah CALLING THE PUPPY HONEY KISS DISGUSTING also 😭

literally him being forced to hold gun's hand for a live where he looks incredibly uncomfortable

this youtube video features good clips & this tiktok is a good summary of offgun's dynamic change:

overall it's pretty amazing to have witnessed off's transformation & change and it's frankly why I'm such a stan bc anytime off gives a more intimate interview you can see how much self-reflection & maturity this guy has and I love him so much 🥰💚

xxx

[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

SMB Author's Life Update part 2:

Well my dearest readers..... A discussion was had.....

I'm opening up here, because I just.... I don't know how my life is an actual cliche romcom plot.

So when I say " a confession was had" it was not the type of confession where one was asking for anything romantic or relationship wise. It was more like " You're my friend, but I'm getting super deep feelings that feel more-than-friend like and it's terrifying me cause I don't want to lose you. So I'm telling you now so you know where I'm at right now, but I'm not asking for you to be my boyfriend or anything more than your willing to give. I just need you to know this is what I'm feeling, and you need to put boundaries in place with me or I'll get even more confused and possibly blur my lines further"

I was mean, blurted this all out at the train station, 5mins before he had to catch his train (it was not as suave as I wrote by the way, I word vomited and was shaking like a leaf and then tried very hard not to runaway 😂). Then left him to think it over for a while 2days (the weekend).

But we did indeed talk about it and i am so very grateful...... That of all the guys for me to ever feel this deeply for the first time in my life it was for him.

We are not together, an honest blessing because I am very much not in a space for a relationship. I have only just gotten back to a healthy mind space. I'm still in the process of learning how to love myself.

He never thought of our friendship being anything more than friendly, but he loves how it's developing and he doesn't want to lose that either. (He's a bit sheltered if I'm honest, so kinda innocent and so very sweet. I call him Golden Boy in my writings lol).

We talked about our friendship and how important it is to the both of us because nothing about it's development was planned or ever felt forced it just fell into place.

We talked about how we wanted to see each other grow and thrive in life, and how neither of us plan to stop being an important person in each others lives.

And then we thanked each other, and proceeded to have a greeeeaaat laugh at how oblivious he was to my teasing/flirt comments, how I was fighting to be normal when he would talk to me etc.

We hugged it out and then we went Maccas for food 😂🤣🤣

I can't even begin to describe just how utterly happy I am that I haven't lost a friend, and that despite the romantic inclination of my feelings, our friendship is strong enough and mature enough to talk this through.

If I'm honest .... This didnt feel like a rejection, much like how I told him it wasnt really a question.... This felt like a "I'm scared of how important you have become to me so very fast, and I don't know if I'll survive if you leave" with a " I don't know where the future will take us but you're important to me too, and I don't plan on leaving".

Gaaaaaaah, now reading all that.... You bet I have sooooooo much inspo now for my writings 🤣😂

But thank you everyone who wished me luck and sent their support xxx

I greatly appreciate you

[afatlotofchance]

Commission-story 2: The Glutton's Way of the Cross

From a cute little teenage romance and slice of life story, we jump into a completely different territory. More mature. More brutal. Darker.

Let's go to the most fanatical and backward parts of the Middle-Ages. Let's have some non-consensual force-feeding, some brutal gaining, and some painful fattening.

Trigger warning for violence, brutality, torture, all the gruesome side-effects of force-feeding, and other nasty things.

XXX

The monk at the door of the monastery scrutinised the horizon, waiting for the cart to appear at any moment.

“Well, brother Francis?”

Another monk had just joined the first one. Taller, thinner, and definitively scarier.

“I don’t know, brother Gilles… He is late. The bells have rung, but I still can’t see him.”

“Lateness is a symptom of laziness, and laziness is the son of sloth. Sloth is the weapon of the devil.”

“Indeed, brother Gilles. Do you think our food will be poisoned?”

At this moment, a cloud of dust arose from the road as the cart filled with the weekly food delivery approached.

“He is driving faster than usual.” Brother Francis noted.

“Well, he knows he did wrong. At least he shows signs of repentance.”

“I would say he rather shows signs of fear.”

“One leads to the other, brother.”

The cart finally arrived in front of the two monks.

“Well, my son? What kept you so late?”

“I was attacked, fathers!”

The monks opened wide their eyes.

“Attacked, my son?”

“Yes! A robber pushed me out of the cart and tried to steal it, with all the food inside! I still have a nasty bump from the hit! Thankfully, he got caught: he couldn’t control the horse!”

Brother Gilles looked at the horse. He always disliked horses – he knew a devil could be in them at every moment, spying on his every move.

“Do you hear that, brother Francis? A thief tried to rob us of our food!”

“I heard that, brother Gilles… My son, tell me, what happened to said thief?”

XXX

The small delegation of monks travelled through the streets of the little town. Every one they met on their way saluted them with a deep respect. Much more than simple politeness and respect for the man of the cloth, they rather acted out of the fear of what they considered dangerous and disturbing.

The monastery at the edge of the town wasn’t really liked around here. Not that the people hated them, they had too much respect for the religion for that. And these monks weren’t the kind that would revel in money and power to drink, eat, and lay with women like so many others did. But they also weren’t the kind to preach kindness and generosity like they were supposed to. You certainly weren’t going to see these ones begging, preaching, teaching or helping those in distress. Oh no.

The monks came rarely in town. They liked loneliness and to be secluded, working on the constant repentance of their own souls, for they knew the rest of the world had fallen ill beyond cure. They were so strict, so devoted and so pious that it became sickening and grim; and it was all the more frightening because they didn’t seem to remember what virtues and goods their own religion revolved around.

They were pale of skin, for they fled the hard work in the sun and buried themselves under stone roofs. They were thin, almost skeletal, for it seemed they only gathered food in their home just to not eat it. Their eyes were small and squint for spending their time in darkness and reading too much. But the worst of it were the marks of their… very specific devotions. Bruises. Scars. Burns. Sometimes a finger missing. One of the monks couldn’t speak, for his tongue wasn’t in his mouth any more – but nobody knew if the muscle was removed before or after he entered the monastery.

As a result, it was understandable that the crowd amassed on the town’s square would part like the sea before the old prophet at the mere sight of them marching towards the gallows.

Today, there was only one man to be hanged. The thief, brother Gilles guessed. He stepped forward and looked at the criminal. A small man near him was shouting at the crowd, explaining the boy’s crimes. But the monk did not listen to him – for he knew the crimes of the mortals and the sins of God were completely different things. The thief was young, barely a man, and he looked terrified. His hands were behind him, probably with rope around them, and the noose was around his neck – nicely tight. His eyes were wide open, jumping everywhere like wild rabbits, searching for a bit of help or mercy. He was sweating a lot, and his face bore the marks of terror – marks the monks knew very well. And they knew that with fear came redemption, repentance and faith.

“Stop!”

Everybody looked at the monks.

“Are you going to simply hang this poor young man like that? Without any form of trial? Without any form of judgement? Without any form of advice from the men of God?”

The small man looked quite embarrassed.

“Father, this man was a thief. Not only is he a thief, he is a sacrilegious thief, for he tried to steal your cart of food as it was leaving our town. The law claims that we should hang him.”

“The law of men, my son, not the law of God. God never said anything about hanging people – hanging other people is pagan, and hanging ourselves is only worth of a Judas, not of a petty thief. Thieves are to be crucified.”

The young man gulped down despite the noose around his neck, and he became even more pale and sweaty. Brother Gilles smirked. That was the reaction he was waiting for.

“But, as you said, he stole our belongings, our property, our food. We should have a word about his punishment.”

The monk got up on the gallows’ platform, and close to the young man. He was without a doubt a peasant – shirt, pants, small vest, a strong lace instead of a belt. His clothes were still dirtied with the dust and the mud from his failed crime attempt. He was young, as the monk had already noticed – young but stocky and bulky. Broad shoulders, thick chest, strong legs. He definitely looked like a worker, a hard worker, a farmer probably, certainly not a blacksmith. However, some elements of his morphology clearly showed a propensity towards sloth and gluttony. A soft flesh. A big belly, not round but slightly more prominent than the chest (never a good sign, for it meant the man’s heart was in his belly). A baby-like face, with fat cheeks and a double chin.

“How many years have you seen pass, my son?”

The boy gulped down once more.

“I will soon be sixteen years old, father.”

“You stole our food.”

“I was hungry!” the man cried out. “My father is dead, the taxes are heavy, my crops all withered and died! I don’t have enough money to buy bread, I would have died, only God could help me, and I had to do it, I succumbed to the temptation, for I was weak, and my belly ached, but…”

The monk put a hand on his mouth.

“Your head is shaved.”

“Huh?”

The monk took his hand and touched the top of his head.

“Your head is shaved, like those of our orders. Why so?”

“Keeps… keeps the little biting bugs away.”

“I see… Clean. Do you regret what you did?”

“Yes! Yes, so much, father, I repent father, please, I don’t want to be hanged, I’m not a criminal, I’m a faithful good…”

The monk made a sign to make him stop his pleas. Then he got near the small man that was shouting the boy’s crimes earlier on. He took him by the shoulder, leaned towards him and whispered in his ear:

“What do you know about the young man? Is he gluttonous? Slothful?”

“He certainly is both, father, everyone knows it around here! His father kept complaining that he was a good-for-nothing, a big belly with legs and without a heart! And when his father died, he inherited his farm with his field, but he never managed to get anything to grow there! I think he never really put any real effort in it, he just wanted to eat his own crops and had no patience to take care of it as he grew! Just a big gullet with legs, as his father said! Good for nothing.”

The monk nodded and turned back towards the young man, speaking loudly for everyone to hear:

“Hanging a man is not a dignified or Christian way to make him die. You are young, terrified and repentant. You are a sinner, yes, but if God executed all of the sinners on this Earth, only the pope would be left! We, as men of god, offer you a way to be punished for your crime while staying alive. A way that would purify your soul, make you repent and become a better person! We offer to punish you, not with a vulgar execution, but with a penitence! We will punish you like God Himself would!”

The crowd started to whisper.

“You shall be punished by where you sinned. Your mouth, your throat, your gullet.”

He got closer to the boy, his cold icy eyes straight into his. The young thief shivered in fear of the dreadful punishment that was awaiting him.

“Do you know what they do in Hell to gluttons?”

The young man shook his head.

“They are fed for all eternity. And so you shall be.”

The boy looked at him strangely. Was it… a joke? He never heard of a monk making a joke, even in in-jokes.

Brother Gilles turned towards the crowd.

“We will punish him by feeding him! He wanted to eat, well he will eat, until he realises his mistakes and his sins! He devoted his soul to the false god Gluttony, but we will show him the truth behind the lies, we will make him realise that food isn’t sustaining the soul, that what evil can offer is nothing but sickness and death! We will show him that eating isn’t a proper way to honour God!”

The small man, uneasy, looked at the executioner, who simply shrugged.

“Father… You want to feed him? That’s not…”

The look the monk gave him silenced him in the minute. Brother Gilles’ eyes were gleaming with a spark of pure madness, of insane cruelty, of the twisted fanaticism the townspeople had learned to fear since decades now.

“We offer him a chance to redeem himself! Isn’t that good? If he wants to follow our path, we will prepare his punishment. We will give the orders and the food, for we have plenty to spare – all we would borrow from the town are guards to carry on our orders, and your stocks, to keep him locked. But it is not your choice or mine.”

Brother Gilles turned towards the boy.

“It is yours. You can choose to redeem yourself and follow us. But if you would rather die as a sinner take the rope then, be my guest.”

“No, no! I don’t want the rope! I want to live! I want… I want to repent!”

“Good.”

Of course, the boy was afraid. He knew the reputation of these monks. He knew they liked the whips and the blades as much as the crosses and the rosaries. But what was the worst they could do by feeding him? They said it themselves, they would give him their own food. So nothing rotten or disgusting. They will offer him on a plate what he wanted to steal since the very beginning. They were so nuts in the head they didn’t even realise that their punishment was a reward more than anything.

Anyway, nothing could be worse than the gallows.

XXX

Of course, the stocks were pretty uncomfortable – forcing Yvan to stay on his knees, preventing his hands from moving – but it was better than the rope. At least, here, he had enough space around his neck to move his head.

The monks insisted on using the stocks of the marketplace. They refused to use those on the outskirts of the town. As they said themselves: “Like this, not only will his humiliation be greater, but he will also become an example, a lesson, a living book for the people of this town. Every day they will come and see him being punished, and mock him for having fallen so low – but at the same time, they will shiver for the sake of their own soul.”

On the stocks, was nailed a parchment upon which had been written only one word: “Glutton”. And indeed, his punishment seemed like a demonstration of what gluttony was.

Just like the monks had said, Yvan was being fed and that was the only thing they seemed to do to him. No whipping, no bone-breaking, no flesh-burning. Just… meals.

They served him three meals, three enormous meals – at sunrise, midday and sunset. Yvan never felt so happy and satisfied in his entire life! He was treated like a king, had his belly full, and could taste better food than he could have ever grown out of his own field! There were fruits of all sorts, apples, peaches, berries, nuts, olives, pears, oranges, along with a rich meal, good bread, and tasty wine. And there was meat! Real, juicy meat, cooked, roasted! He gulped down everything with glee and smiles, for he wasn’t even bothering with feeding himself: the guards were feeding him! Like a king, like a pope, like a god!

People soon gathered around him to see how the monks had planned to torture him – some even had rotten fruits ready to be thrown – but they all stood wide-eyed and still upon seeing the young, brutish, gluttonous, lazy man they all knew being pampered like the child of some nobleman. Were the monks completely mad?

Outside of the stocks, the only thing that seemed close to a humiliation was after his last meal – as the evening left place to the night and everybody was going home. Yvan had to relieve himself and the guards lowered his pants and made him defecate and urinate without taking him off the stocks. But, while it was humiliating for Yvan to know that all the women, men and children of the neighbourhood could take look his parts and dejections, and while it hurt him to hear the people’s laughs and mockeries, he quickly forgot everything about it, for the taste of the exquisite foods was still lingering on his tongue, and that was enough to make him happy.

As new guards arrived at night to watch over the stocks, Yvan liked his lips (still covered in juice and milk) and let out a small burp. His belly was full and heavy – the first time since… Oh, since his birth, probably.

Someone up there must be looking after him, he thought as he felt sleepy. Someone who whispered to the ear of the crazy monks.

This night, Yvan dreamed of huge feasts and banquets.

XXX

“Hey! I already had my meal at sunrise!” Yvan shouted to the guards as they approached with more food.

It was the middle of the morning. The market was taking place all around the young man, and the people nearby, merchants or clients, turned their heads towards the stocks.

“The monks said you’ll have five meals a day!” answered the guards.

“But I only had three yesterday!”

The other did not answer. Not that Yvan was complaining. Eating so much yesterday had woken up his appetite – he had felt hungry ever since sunrise and his breakfast, while big, certainly wasn’t enough to make him full.

Yvan salivated upon seeing the guards drop in front of him beautiful, greasy pieces of meat, firm and plump pomegranates, brilliant and sugary grapes, delicious buttery bread!

“That’s a lot of food!” he snickered merrily, still chipped up from the morning wine.

The guards looked at each other with a smirk.

“It is, indeed. Now open your mouth.”

XXX

They came back at midday, then in the middle of the afternoon, and at sunset. They helped him to do what he had to do, and the guards shifted for the night.

While still smiling as the idiot that he was, Yvan burped, not without a slight feeling of unease. The guards weren’t bothering with cleaning his mouth, so all the grease and fat of the meat was still dribbling down his chin, mixing itself with the milk and the wine in a pool on the ground. He felt light-headed, due to having much more wine than usual – which made him quite red in the face – but all the alcohol in his blood couldn’t erase the heaviness in his belly. His stomach felt so tight, in fact, it was nearly uncomfortable.

It’s nonsense, he thought to himself. No one can grow uncomfortable from eating too much. It’s hungriness that makes you suffer. Famine is the true pain. Not eating like a king.

Yet, his bowels still hanged dully from his guts, still feeling puffed up despite being emptied of their content not so long ago, and his stomach kept gurgling and bloating itself with gases and bubbles.

You couldn’t get sick from eating too much food… could you? 

XXX

“Hey, could you… could you… just…”

One of the guards shoved a juicy and greasy chicken leg in Yvan’s mouth.

“What did’ya say?”

The young man munched and gulped down. “Could you slow down a bit? I’m starting to get…” An apple was put between his teeth. He had to bite. “… feeling really full now.” he said while munching.

“Don’t care.” the guard answered as he took a watermelon and cut it in big slices.

“I’m really…” Yvan let out a small burp. “If you go too fast, I might… choke you know?”

“The monks said nothing about you choking, or about us feeding you fast ofrslow. We just feed ya, and that’s all. The monks said: Feed him. And if he doesn’t want to eat…” The guard gave a violent kick to Yvan’s leg. The young man screamed, a bit of apple falling on the ground. “… then make him eat.”

Yvan ate the rest of the watermelon, but not without a slight nausea.

His stomach was so full he felt it could burst at any moment. Not that the food was bad – it was so delicious – and now he was getting kind of used to eating so much, even though it was really uncomfortable by the end of the day. It was the guards, they forced him to eat too much too quickly. He feared getting a stomach ache. He had one when he was little, after eating all of the apples of the neighbour's tree. But it quickly went away. He hoped this one will too.

Anyway, alcohol helped him soothe the pain. The wine they kept making him drink gurgled in his belly.

Another watermelon down, and Yvan burped again, but this time quite faintly, with a bit of saliva dripping from his lips.

He looked at what was left. Breads, several big pieces of bread. Anointed with oil and butter. To see them shine in the sun made his stomach turn and churn.

He could certainly do this. He wasn’t going to refuse eating some pieces of bread. Yvan, refusing food? That would be ridiculous.

XXX

“And that’s the last of it.”

Yvan gulped down what was left of the cheese. He burped and spat.

“I’m not feeling… good. Not at all…”

“You’re supposed to be punished, scum. You’re not supposed to feel good.”

Yvan looked at the guard. It was hard to look precisely at someone’s face while being drunk.

“I’m being fed. I’m eating. How is that a punishment? You can make me… hic! You can make me ache and sick and drunk, but… hic! It can’t be worse than the gallows, or starving in the street! Hic!”

The guard simply shook his head and went away, leaving the young man with his bloated belly and food-smeared mouth at the good hands of his colleagues.

If only this thief knew of the monk’s plan…

XXX

“Rise and shine! Time to eat!”

Yvan woke up. His stomach felt hard and heavy.

“What?”

He looked at the sky. It was dark blue, with barely a thin line of pink at the horizon.

“The sun’s not raising yet…”

“It’s the matins, my boy. Your first meal.”

“What?”

“Monks order. Make him eat at the matins. Bread, wine and fruit. Won’t hurt ya, right? Plus some nice cow milk! Fresh from the udder!”

Yvan didn’t feel like eating but… well, he had no other choice.

XXX

“Here’s the food!”

Yvan looked at the young guard that was bringing with him huge pieces of muttons, big apples and large pears.

“I just ate!” he said. “The matins are done!”

“Yeah, but the sky is all pink and the sun is rising, no? It’s the lauds.”

“The lauds?”

“Monks order. Give him food at the lauds. Come on, open up.”

XXX

“Food for ya, glutton!”

Another guard was coming, his arms filled with bread, quinces, plums and milk.

“I just ate… bwarp! Twice!” Yvan belched. “I’m full, really! I’m stuffed and not hungry any more!”

“But the sky is bright blue and the bells are ringing! It’s the prime, boy! The monks said you had to eat at the prime!”

“I’m full, I can’t eat any more!”

The guards gave him a kick in the butt.

“Come on, don’t squeal too much, you pig! You’re supposed to be a prisoner here. Don’t make me shove this food down your big throat. Come on, make some room, I’m sure you can.”

XXX

“I feel like… it’s so tight… I’m gonna burst.”

Yvan huffed and puffed. The young guard was back. He kneeled and looked at Yvan’s belly, opening a bit his vest and shirt.

“Indeed, I’ve never seen a gullet so round! Like a melon! The skin’s so tight I could play drum on it!”

“Please… don’t…” Yvan whispered.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry.” the young guard answered. “There’s lamb, and figs, and…”

“More… food?” Yvan cried.

“Yes. It’s the terce. The market is opening. Don’t you see?”

Indeed, the merchants had gathered on the market-place, preparing their stalls and stands.

“I… can’t eat. I… won’t eat. I don’t want… to eat. Stop.”

The young guard laughed.

“You know you can’t just ask that, right? If you don’t want to eat, you’ll be forced to. Please, show some courage. It’s not so bad, it’s just a big meal. Come on, open up.”

XXX

It was noon, now. The market was coming to an end, but a small crowd had gathered around the stocks to look at poor Yvan. He was as pale as his shirt, with a belly big and swollen. It kept gurgling, moaning and making strange noises. Sauces, juice, grease and saliva kept flowing from his half-opened mouth, staining his clothes and chins.

A guard appeared.

“It’s sext, my boy! Time to eat!”

“No… urg… no more…”

The gurgles were now coming from the back of his throat.

“Oh, you’ll eat, glutton. Open up, come on. Open… open. Open!”

The guard opened himself the boy’s mouth, forcing a piece of bread past his teeth. The entire bread finally went down, followed by some fruits. That’s when Yvan suddenly rejected the food he just ate, the fruits smashing on the guard’s chest. The guard recoiled with disgust.

“Can’t… I’m… urg…” Yvan whispered.

He vomited again, this time all the content of his previous meal. The guard looked at the slimy puddle of half-digested food.

“Oh, lad, you don’t know what you’re in for, do you? No matter how full you are, you’ll have to eat. Eat ‘til you burst. Monks orders.”

XXX

“Well, how is our little glutton?”

The head of the guards had walked all the way to the monastery. It was the smallest of the monks that had welcomed him – a weird one, with a sly smile, a dead eye and a missing finger.

“We did as you asked. Fed him at every service. Matins and lauds, prime and terce, sext and nones, vespers and compline.”

“Good. Is he regretting his actions now?”

“Don’t know. But he certainly regretted to eat. He puked it all out.”

The man nodded.

“Brother Gilles thought that it would happen. It means the boy is rejecting his sins. It’s not merely the food he vomits, it’s his crime. He’s expunging the Devil out of his own body. It’s good, very good. I hope you haven’t made him eat up what he vomited?”

“What? No!”

“That was the proposition of brother Francis. I’m glad to see you haven’t listened to him. Well, I’ll tell brother Gilles about our progress. I’m sure he is eager to share with you the next step of the plan.”

“The next step of the plan?”

“Yes, my son. Our little glutton is following his own Way of the Cross. And it means walking step by step. Each one more painful than the previous one.”

The little monk said that with such a childish glee that the head of the guards couldn’t help but shiver.

“My son… did you know we raised geese in the monastery, not so long ago?”

XXX

“Open your mouth.”

Yvan had no time to answer. The guards opened his jaws and put something in it. Something cold, metallic, long, that went down his throat. He wanted to gag, to spit out, to vomit, but he couldn’t. He squinted his eyes, trying to realise what had been put in his mouth.

The realisation hit his alcohol-imbibed brain.

It was a funnel.

Immediately, the food arrived. He couldn’t test it, but he felt it. Something soft, but heavy, that blocked his throat. He gulped down in order to not suffocate. And immediately something else came in, and he gulped it. The thing – food, must have been food – still came down his throat. It felt as something already munched and spit out. Must have been something mashed, grind, crushed. Probably purée or paste. Sometimes it was more jelly-like, other times it was a liquid. And of course, all of it had no taste, for not a single drop touched his tongue – all Yvan could taste was the cold, hard, nearly salty metal of the funnel in his mouth.

And said funnel was so big it blocked most of his view. The guards themselves wondered what kind of goose the monks could possibly feed with a funnel that big. But it was handy: everything slipped in it. The crushed nuts, the mashed fruits, the berries purée. They even pressed the meat, until it became a bloody and greasy pulp. It was still early in the morning, but they had a lot to do. The monks had warned them: more and more food will be added into the young thief’s belly, until food would take up so much space in his body the Devil would be forced to flee. Then, and only then, will the demonic sin drop the mask of pleasure and reveal its true face: that of a hellish torture, based on a ridiculous, base, pointless, unneeded material object. Food.

All day long the food kept coming. Now that the guards had to mash and prepare the food, each meal took twice the usual amount of time, and it had already been a lengthy process beforehand. Yvan felt like he was fed every minute of every hour of every part of the day, without any kind of pause or relief. Soon his belly felt full and round, but the food kept coming, making his stomach tighter and harder. Of course, all the food was pushed down to his lower parts – filling his intestines and gore, bloating the rest of his abdomen, until all of his internal plumber was clogged up. He felt like a sausage: a tight skin filled with stuffing. Half-sick, half-drunk, he daydreamed that if a butcher was to come and poke at him with his knife, his belly would probably slice itself in half, spilling everywhere the fruits and the meat and the bread he had been fed on, perfectly intact, still nice and shiny. But the mere thought of it made him sick again.

The nausea got so violent he tried to puke – but the funnel prevented such rejection. Worse, the small he had been able to get rid of was being forced down his throat once more.

By the end of the day, when they finally took away the metallic torture device, Yvan was crying.

He now understood how, exactly, being fed constantly could be, indeed, a true torture.

XXX

Brother Gilles followed the guard throughout the streets of the little town.

“And was there any other case of regurgitation?”

“It’s hard to tell with the funnel, father. But I don’t think so. I think he got used to it. After all, his stomach is twice as big – he can pack in much more than before.”

“What?”

The monk had stopped right in the middle of the street, staring at the guard with his icy stare.

“Well… yeah. He’s grown big. You’ve fattened him up real well.”

“He… fattened up?”

One of the monk’s eyes was wide open, expressing the most confused bewilderment. The other shone of some sort of dreadful angriness.

“Well… yeah.” the guard repeated, frightened. “Just like, you know… the goose. Like you said, how you’re feeding the goose. It’s fattening them up and… huh… he too.”

The monk ran towards the market place.

People had gathered around Yvan, smiling and quietly laughing at his ridiculous appearance. They talked to each other while pointing their dirty fingers toward him, clearly making fun of his situation – but Yvan had no ears for them. When he was being fed by the funnel, he could only think of gulping and swallowing so that he wouldn’t choke.

“We’ve stopped separating the foods.” the guards explained while catching up with the monk. “Now we mix all of it together. Fruits, bread, wine, meat, milk. It’all makes just one big goo. He takes him pretty easily. It’s just like a goose. And he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Apparently, he can’t taste anything. He just eats and burps in our faces. The old guards don’t like it – they sometimes smack him in the face – but the others don’t mind.”

Indeed, when the guards took off the funnel, Yvan let out a deep belch that made all the people around laugh out loud.

All the people around except the monk – who merely screamed.

“Open the stocks! Put him on his feet! Open the stocks, I need to see it!”

The guards, quite surprised to see brother Gilles, obeyed. Yvan could barely stand up: sitting for weeks on his knees had weakened his legs. The sudden shift in position made him nauseous, and green in the face.

The monk rushed towards him and grabbed his belly. His now wide, fat, round belly.

His torso had doubled in size since their last meeting. Fat had bloated up his abdomen, enlarging his waist, padding his behind, rounding his belly – in fact, his midsection was nearly the shape of a perfect globe. His chest had also gotten thicker and larger, his shoulders broader and meatier. This transformation had, of course, an effect on his clothes: the laces that tied his sleeveless vest had all snapped, while the tighter one that he used as a belt was certainly about to do so. His shirt, ill-fitting when he was on the gallows, had now its fabric stretched on his gut.

“The mockery! It’s an outrage! He is mocking our punishment, he is mocking our order, he is mocking our God!”

Brother Gilles turned towards the guards and shouted, eyes injected with blood:

“He grew fat on the food we cursed him with! He turned our punishment of both body and mind into a display of excess and laziness! Look at him! Where’s the suffering in his face? Where’s the vomit of his repentance? Oh, I should have listened to brother Horace! We should have put living rats in his gullet so that they would devour him from the inside!”

The monk ordered the guards to put Yvan back in the stocks, before addressing the crowd around him:

“Look at this glutton! A thief, a glutton, a slothful, a prodigal son that dilapidated his father’s property! He killed his mother at birth, he tried to commit a monstrous sacrilege by depriving men of God of their sustenance! He is in league with the devilish horses! And now, what is he doing? He is being fed all day long, doing nothing but sit there, enjoying it!”

Finally, the nausea had passed and Yvan found the strength to speak.

“I’m not enjoying it!” Yvan cried out. “It’s hell! My belly aches, it makes me sick, I puke and I shit! My limbs are sore, I can barely walk any more! I’m feverish and sweaty and I don’t want to be here any more!”

“I don’t see your tears, liar! Your flesh is fat, glutton, sign of your own sin! You revel in your own evil! You’re bloated up like a vampire! Shut your vile mouth and speak no more!”

Brother Gilles took a lemon from a nearby stand and shoved it into Yvan’s mouth.

“You, people, are faithful! You were baptised, you are part of God’s livestock! You should act on his name, be his voice, be his warrior! You maybe can’t lead a crusade, you maybe can’t kill the heretics, but you can at least punish the sinners on Earth – this sinner on Earth, so that he won’t go to Hell after his death! Be kind to thy neighbour! Help this lost sheep! Push him back into the path of God! Do it!”

“But how?” the crowd asked.

“He’s a pig, treat him as such!”

The monk was now red and sweaty, a big vein pulsing on his bald head.

“This is a punishment! Make him regret! Make him feel what it would be like to be in hell! Don’t let him be complacent, don’t let him! By the authority of the High One, do it!”

The monk ran towards a merchant nearby, stole his knife and cut the tip of his own finger. Then he ran toward Yvan, took the lemon and put his finger instead.

“Drink! Drink my blood, for I am a man of God, and my blood is pure! You are a sinner, not worthy of the blood of the Great Saviour, so for your communion, you shall have the blood of a lesser servant. Drink! Drink! Drink, my son, drink!”

Yvan, terrified, sucked the monk’s finger, the strange taste of blood spreading on his tongue. It was quite similar to the taste of the funnel. The monk finally groaned and took off his finger.

“Perfect. You are absolved of your sins and crimes in the past weeks. Your mockery of our order will be forgotten. But, make sure you repent and suffer. Else… I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to do anything more for you.”

XXX

Yvan punishment went on. Every day, from dawn till dusk, a gruesome mix of liquids and mashed food, once glorious and sumptuous meals reduced to a colourless ugly goo, was forced into the funnel, down Yvan’s throat, and the boy gulped and gulped until his stomach was bloated and ready to burst – which became less and less the frequent, weeks passing by. For indeed, his stomach slowly distended itself, and grew with this new amount of food. Thus, the guards needed more and more to satisfy him, and even more to actually make him sick. It became so bad that Yvan actually ended up feeling a bit peckish after each day of force-feeding. Hopefully, the townsfolk joined their effort to those of the guards.

The monks had ordered them to lash all of their cruelty and mockeries upon the glutton, and so they shall. Not directly of course, only the guards could hit him (even though many common people came to pat his firm and blubbery behind, saying how the pig was fattening up nicely). Plus, mockery wasn’t enough for them any more – they had done all they could, and they grew bored of it, especially since Yvan seemed to ignore them completely.

So, they rather decided to help the guards in their feeding duty. Each day, the scraps and rotten things they usually kept for their pigs or their dogs were given to the guards so they could add it to the repulsive mush they prepared. Sometimes, they even fed Yvan directly, steeping their own mashed leftovers down the funnel. Since Yvan’s stocks were on the market place, the merchants liked to get rid of their withered or ugly products by throwing it down his gullet. At first, it made Yvan quite nauseous to eat all of this bad food, his stomach churning and groaning as it had to digest elements too hard or too rotten, but he soon got used to it – he had eaten worse in his years. Anyway, the townsfolk understood that giving Yvan bad food only resulted in more violent and putrid public defecations, and deciding that their market place already stank enough without this gruesome addition, they decided to only give him scraps and discarded bits.

In a very strange way, Yvan’s punishment became the town’s entire distraction, a sort of communal activity that people watched and participated in like if it was some sort of play or game. When the market was held, people bought food specifically so they could feed it to Yvan, under the guard’s watch. They had invented, without knowing it yet, the concept of feeding animals in zoos, several centuries before any zoo actually existed.

The thief’s force-feeding became such an amusement, satisfying the perverse tastes and desperate craving for distraction of the peasants and common folk, that at night, some people bribed the guards, with either beer or money, so that they could “play” all by themselves with Yvan by feeding him.

The crazy monk had ordered Yvan to stop getting fat in order to show his repentance.

It obviously wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

XXX

“He’s choking!”

“What?”

“Look! He’s choking! He’s getting all red in the face! And his tongue’s all out!”

“Nah, he must be drunk.”

“No! Look, he’s coughing! He’s getting blue!”

“Blue? Get him out of here. We’ll see.”

The guards opened the stocks, freeing Yvan who fell on the floor, hissing and wheezing as he was able to breathe again.

“What, he choked on food?”

“No, I don’t think so… Oh, I think I found it! Look!”

The guard forced Yvan to get back on his knees and to put his head back in the stocks. The guard slowly lowered the top part of the wooden device, until it nearly closed itself on the man’s neck.

“His neck’s too big!”

“How can a man’s neck be too big for the stocks?”

The guards forced Yvan to stand up so that they could have a good look at him – something Yvan could barely do, his wobbly legs having a hard time supporting his enormous weight.

Indeed, Yvan’s neck was now too big for the stocks! If it was even a neck what he had now. A ball of fat had replaced what he had for a neck: between his cheeks that grew and fell over on each sides, and his goitre of a double chin that had blown up, along with the rolls of fat that piled up on his nape, his head seemed to now rest on a pile of lard, an enormous roll of flesh twice as big as his own rotund head, as plump as the full moon.

The guards, so used to seeing this big, round, bloated body kneeling on the ground, like a pig eating in his through or some fat cow munching the grass, understood with a great surprise and an even greater disgust just how big Yvan had gotten.

His torso, that used to be already quite spherical in shape, had now grown so fat, so wide and so vast that the sphere had fallen into a shapeless mount, overflowing from the sides of his over-stretched pants. The lace that he used as a belt had snapped one evening as the guards were feeding him and now was hanging pitifully. His shirt, too tight and too small for his new girth, rose up on the enormous hanging globe that was his belly, grotesquely distended after so many weeks of overeating. Above his belly, his chest had grown fat and soft, his pectorals now hanging like two huge slabs of meat. But it wasn’t just his head and his abdomen – the rest of his body had also changed. His arms, for example, were each so big they looked like two hams put together – they were even bigger and thicker than the arms of the strongest of the guards! And his legs had also gotten larger – his pale, fleshy, jelly-like thighs rubbing against each other like full, sloshing wineskins – and underneath, his calves, also rounder and thicker, tightened the laces around the legs of his pants so much the guards feared they would snap like those of his vest.

The man was now a beast, as heavy as a bear and as grotesque as a pig. Yvan looked at the guards, with his stuffed and round cheeks, his mouth dripping with food and saliva, with the enormous bulges that were now his chins, and with his eyes, his bagged eyes, so tiny inside the puffed-up flesh of his face, eyes haggard and nearly dead due to the town amount of pain, nausea, satisfaction, happiness, pleasure and sickness he had experienced these previous months. And the guards felt disgusted and uneasy by what they had just done.

People gathered around to see the monster Yvan had become, to look at his body that was now roughly the shape of a little mountain, and the guards rushed towards the monastery to warn the monks.

XXX

Brother Gilles, brother Francis and brother Horace arrived soon at the marketplace.

“You’ve freed him? What’s the meaning of this? You…”

The monk stopped speaking upon seeing the enormous young man.

“We can’t take it any more.” one of the guards explained nervously. “This all thing becomes perverted. He was punished enough, don’t ya think? His neck can’t even fit in the stocks! Just look at him! He’s like the old Eglon, I poke my blade in him, he wouldn’t feel a thing! He wouldn’t even bleed!”

Brother Gilles approached the boy. The dead eyes of Yvan were looking at something far away from here, something over the rainbow, that the monks couldn’t possibly see.

“My son? Are you here with us?”

The boy gurgled up something. He opened his mouth, drooling. He let out a half-drowned belch and gurgled some more.

“My son… have you repented?”

Yvan turned his eyes towards brother Gilles, eyes still dead and blank, without any light or spark in them. He smiled, exposing his crooked yellow teeth, worn out after gritting for so long on the funnel’s metal, his breath smelling of all sorts of foods and rotten things.

Brother Gilles suddenly straightened up his back, as immobile as a statue, and shouted: “He repented!”

The other monks cried in joy and applauded, soon followed by the cheers of the crowd.

Brother Gilles took some of Yvan’s saliva, made a quick cross over his forehead, blessed him, and after hearing more cheering, Yvan lost consciousness.

XXX

Yvan was woken up by a deep feeling of hungriness, and the loud wails of his own stomach.

Yvan was in a cell. His body felt heavy and sore all over, except in the area of his stomach, that felt painful and empty. It was like having a big hole in his belly.

Trying to get up, Yvan suddenly remembered everything. The monk, the stocks, the funnel… He looked down at his body and held back a horrified scream. He was enormous! He couldn’t even see his own feet past his gut! Was he really as big as a boar? That’s what the people said when he was in the stocks. His belly was even sticking out of his clothes!

He touched it, felt his fingers seek deeply into the flesh, and suddenly his stomach roared once more. He was famished.

“Oh, you’re up. Good. I wondered if you were dead.”

A guard was opening the door of the cell.

“What happened?”

“You’ve been there for days. Sleeping, unconscious. We thought all this eating had killed you. You know, something burst inside you. But you’re still kickin’, that’s good. The monks said your punishment was enough. You’re free to leave.”

Yvan, surprised to even be alive but joyful to finally leave all of this torture behind him, followed the guard in the street.

When he got out, the people in the street looked at him, pausing and snickering before returning to their activities.

Another loud groan got out of his belly.

“Still hungry, boy? We can get you the funnel, if you like.” the guard joked.

Yvan looked at him with spite and walked away. Or rather tried to. His feet were not used to lift such a mass, he stomped rather than walked, and with each movement his thighs rubbed against each other, his behind jiggling and trying to fit inside pants now too tight, his belly bouncing in front of him.

A woman looked at him and laughed. Yvan felt embarrassed. He must be a ridiculous sight to look at. He wasn’t even pleasantly plump, or round as a rich merchant. He was so big he looked like a beast, a hideous beast, a wild hog, a freakish animal!

Three kids ran towards him.

“Oh, look! It’s the pig! It’s the goose! It’s the glutton!” they screamed with glee.

They started running around him.

“He’s like a barrel! No, he’s bigger than that! Do you have grains? Feed him grains! Feed him scraps! Don’t forget the funnel!”

“Leave me alone!” Yvan screamed.

He tried to hit them, to smack them on the head or slap them on the cheek, but all this moving around and leaning forward ended up loudly ripping something behind him.

“He split his pants!” the kids laughed. “He split his pants! Look at his bum!”

And the kids smacked his behind. “It jiggles, it ripples!” the kids shouted.

Yvan became red and shouted back at the kids some of the worst insults he knew, but another one had grabbed his chest – or rather what his chest had become, wide rolls of fat hanging on each side of his body.

“Look, he has udders! He’s not a goose, he’s a cow! He’s not a pig, he’s a sow! Drink, boys, drink, I’m sure there’s milk in it, suck it!”

The boy who had grabbed Yvan’s man boob received a violent hit on the head. Yvan always had large and tough hands, and now, with the added weight of the meat that hanged around his arm, his fist was doing much more damage than before.

The kids ran away, but their screams echoed in the streets, and as to answer them, Yvan’s stomach gurgled once more.

XXX

Yvan finally arrived at his farm. His old dad’s farm, now his own.

He was huffing and puffing, red in the face and sweating between his rolls. Moving around was much harder than before. He felt like he was dragging a dead horse with him: he was hot, his heart was beating like a drum, and he had the hardest time breathing.

Passing by his field, he took a gloomy look at it. The few plants that had managed to grow in this weed-infested earth had all withered and died. Sighting, but happy to be back home, Yvan entered the small farm and sat on one of the old wooden chairs.

It cracked and Yvan fell to the ground. It would have been more painful without the extra-padding on his behind.

His stomach protested once more against its emptiness. Now hunger was becoming painful, like if his insides were sucked up and crushed.

Yvan wondered what he could possibly eat to ease the pain, before reminding himself that there was no food left. He had eaten everything already.

Yvan then wondered what he could buy – not at the market, for he couldn’t show up there after all the mockeries and humiliations – in one of the nearby shops, at the butcher or at another farmer’s house. He then remembered he had no money left. He had used all of what he had to buy himself food.

No money. No food. And now no clothes, for he doubted to find anything that would accommodate his gargantuan size.

His stomach roared once more, so loudly it seemed a lion had entered the room. Yvan patted his belly, only to feel how wide, round and fat it was.

The young man understood that his punishment was far from being over.

[little-diable]

A complicated man – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 5/?)

Chapter five, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, some heated making out, Aaron is a big asshole in this, mentions some typical CM violence

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

“Yes, Emily, I am on my way. I promised you I’ll show up, didn’t I?” A tired sigh left (y/n) as she watched the houses and streets blurr by, being driven to the BAU. Her heart was aching, mind racing, still hooked onto her last conversation with Aar- Professor Hotchner.

She wasn’t proud to admit that she had cried through most parts of that night, cursing herself, but mostly cursing the older man. Deep down she had expected the situation to go south, very well aware of his stoic self and the lines both had crossed.

And yet a small, pathetic part of herself had believed that everything would work out, that he’d want her as much as she wanted him. Fuck, how foolish she had been, how naive she had been, all because of a man who was almost twice her age. A man who should be more mature than how the professor was acting at the moment. 

Emily had called her a few days later, quietly begging (y/n) to find her way to the BAU, since JJ was sick and they were desperate for any help they could get. It hadn’t taken much convincing, even though (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how crossing paths with him would play out. 

The brown haired agent was waiting for (y/n) to arrive, smiling at the young woman with a visitor’s badge already in her hand. Both shared a bit of small talk as they made their way upstairs, momentarily managing to distract (y/n) from her nervousness. But the second they stepped into the office, (y/n)’s blood ran cold, eyes instantly drawn to Aaron Hotchner’s dark ones.

An expression of confusion, annoyance, and anger crossed his features, instantly forcing the young woman to slow down the speed of her steps. Of course Emily hadn’t told the others about her plan, a fact (y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised about, and yet her insides didn’t stop churning. 

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you.” Penelope was the first to break the few awkward seconds of silence, pulling the young woman into her grasp as Derek and Spencer also stepped closer. She tried to stop her eyes from searching his as her professor growled a loud “Prentiss, a word please”, but the second he had turned away, her eyes had snapped towards his frame once again.

“We missed you, sweetheart, you’re just the woman we need on this case.” Derek’s sweet words managed to make a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips, a smile that grew even bigger as Spencer quickly hugged her, and as Rossi squeezed her shoulder. But there was no time left to exchange any further pleasantries, falling quiet as the two others stepped back into the room. 

“Alright, let’s focus on our case. Reid and Morgan, I need you to go back to the crime scenes, go through the events that have happened, maybe we missed something. Rossi and I will talk to the people who worked at the slaughterhouse. Prentiss and (y/n) talk to the families again, dig deeper with Garcia's help."

……

“Why didn’t you tell him?” (Y/n)’s voice filled the car, fingers wrapped around her hot drink as Emily drove them back to the BAU. With a sigh leaving the agent she let her eyes flicker towards (y/n), taking in the sad expression the young woman couldn’t shake off.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he knows that we need you, we shouldn’t let go of this chance to have you on the team. But I knew he’d be too stubborn.” A laugh left the both in unison, momentarily taking some weight off (y/n)’s shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what went down between you two?”

“You can’t tell this to anybody, I need you to promise.” A hum left Emily, wordlessly promising that she wouldn’t spill (y/n)’s secret. “We, uhm, that night where we went to that bar and he picked me up, I stayed at his place. The next morning we did some things, but then he was called back to the BAU, and it was as if the switch had been flicked, he was such an asshole to me. Fuck, I’ve been crushing on him for so long and was so happy that something had finally happened, but now - I don’t know, Emily.”

It took the older agent a few moments to ponder over (y/n)’s words, letting the story sink in before she shared her perspective on Aaron’s behaviour. 

“He’s been hurt a lot in the past years, I can’t tell you what goes on inside his head, but I think he’s scared. He is clearly into you, we can all tell, but he’s your professor too, and probably your future boss. Aaron is very compliant to rules, I’d say he’s currently fighting some inner battle.”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do with Emily’s insight, didn’t know how to accept the truth the woman had just shared. Her heart was pounding, and yet it was weighed down by what had happened, unable to shake off the worries clouding her mind. Aaron Hotchner had her trapped, perhaps without fully realising what he was doing to her with the way he kept behaving.

……

“Let’s recap what we got so far.” Aaron's voice boomed through the room, drawing all eyes to his tall frame. With one hand he smoothed his tie, eyes focusing on the picture he was holding, avoiding (y/n)’s eyes at every cost. “We know that our unsub stabbed our victim in the slaughterhouse, but the victim tried to escape, making it about a block before our unsub stabbed him again and finally killed the man. His stomach was cut open and he was beheaded, the head was left at another man’s house. Prentiss, (y/n), anything you can tell us?”

Emily’s eyes met (y/n)’s, wordlessly encouraging the young woman to speak up, leaving her to clear her throat before she took over, “Nothing we weren’t already aware of, but to me it seems like this was about a love interest that connects our victim to our unsub.”

“We first need to rule out other options before we take that route.” It felt as if Aaron’s words cut through her skin, almost forcing bile to rise in (y/n)’s throat. His eyes were cold, now staring at her as if she was their unsub, interrogated by every single member of the team.

“But why? If I remember correctly you didn’t deny my theory the last time you presented this case in class, what changed?” The unfamiliar undertone of her voice even managed to surprise (y/n) herself, not used to hearing herself speaking this coldly, challenging the man. She was too focused on him to pay attention to the others, not feeling their curious eyes on her, wondering how this would play out. 

“If I were you I’d watch my tone, (y/n), you’re not part of this team, and if you keep on behaving like this, you’ll never be. Either accept my decisions or leave, I certainly won’t stop you from doing so, you’d all do us a favour.” A silent gasp ripped through (y/n), followed by the sound of David Rossi warningly murmuring Aaron’s name. For a second neither of them moved, till (y/n) pushed her chair back, rising to her feet with a trembling “Excuse me” leaving her. They watched her leave the room, back turned to them as she moved towards the bathroom.

(Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not wanting to give Aaron the satisfaction of crying over his hurtful words. A few deep exhales left her as she stepped into the bathroom, both hands placed down on the cold sink, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t tell what she was feeling, torn between anger, embarrassment, and heartbreak, hearing him speak to her like that had felt like daggers being pierced into her heart, tearing her last strings of hope. 

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes snapped up towards the mirror, finding Aaron’s frowning features. Without speaking another word, he stepped into the small bathroom, locking the door behind himself. She watched him approach, only turning towards him as he came to a halt in front of her. (Y/n) didn’t dare move as his warm hand slowly cupped her warm cheek, didn’t dare move as a deep sigh left the tall man, eyes burning straight through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be sorry for, if that’s how you feel I guess. I don’t understand you, and frankly speaking, I no longer want to. You’re too old for these childish games, professor.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t pull back, kept holding her as (y/n) rambled on. “You played me, but hey, I guess you got what you wanted, huh? It was easy, too easy, but you should know that breaking my heart-” 

She didn’t get to speak another word, shut up by his lips finding hers, silencing the young woman with a heated kiss. Almost instantly her hands found his dark hair, tugging on the roots to pull him even closer. (Y/n) melted against him, eyes fluttering close to relish in the feeling his touch elicited. 

With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) found herself pressed against the sink, small of her back coming in contact with the cold metal. The sounds he drew from her left the man smirking, tongue fighting hers to once again prove the power he held over her. She was his puppet, allowing him to toy with her how he pleased, pushing and pulling her around without caring about what he was doing to her – at least that’s what he wanted her to believe, not speaking on his true feelings. 

“Fuck, Aaron.” His name slipped from her lips as he kissed his way down her throat, hands finding her behind, squeezing the soft flesh. Both were panting, riled up by the still somewhat unfamiliar touches. And yet neither of them wanted to escape this very moment, finding comfort in the racing beats of their hearts, in the heavy breaths leaving one another. 

“I wish I could understand what you’re making me feel, but I can’t.” He kissed her once again, urgency dripped from his words, making her toes curl in excitement. But (y/n)’s mind was still hooked onto his words, wondering what he meant by them, ripping her out of her blissful state. Slowly she parted from him, hands placed on his chest, forcing them to give into the once again growing distance.

Aaron’s lips were just as swollen as hers, pupils dilated with lust swimming in them, but the glance she threw at him seemed to prepare him for the words that were about to roll off her tongue. With a sigh clawing through him, Aaron let go of (y/n), taking another step away from her.

“I don’t get you, I don’t get what you are trying to do, what you want me to do. You need to figure that out before you toss me around like that again. Do us both a favour and come clean with your feelings. Till then I’ll step away from this case, and the team. I can’t be around you, if you keep acting like that.” Wordlessly he watched her leave, not throwing one glance back at the heavily sighing man. 

……

The sound of her keys being tossed to the small side table placed near her door echoed through (y/n)’s dark apartment. Her heart was heavy, shoulders slouched, clearly projecting the emotional chaos she was fighting against. Deep down she had hoped that he’d stop her from leaving, coming clean with his feelings right there and then, but she knew him better than that, all too aware of the struggles he was fighting against.

She didn’t bother to light her apartment, glassy eyes unable to focus on anything as she poured herself a glass of water, drowning the sips one by one. Exhaustion clung to her, body tormented by the battle she kept fighting, hoping that she’d eventually get out of this very mess. 

A groan ripped through (y/n) as she pressed her forehead against her kitchen counter, palms pressed flat against the cold surface. Fuck, she’d do whatever she could to get rid of her longing for Aaron Hotchner, the man who had claimed her heart all these years ago. Nothing would manage to break the spell, chaining her to him as if she was the Titanic itself, sinking to the dark ocean ground without any help coming her way. 

Her exhausted body carried (y/n) to her bedroom, plopping down on the mattress the second her phone beeped, gaining her attention. (Y/n) reached for it with another yawn clawing its way through her throat, a sound that got stuck in her throat the second her eyes focused on the message that had been sent to her, from an unfamiliar number. 

It took (y/n) a few seconds to take in the picture that had been sent to her, some blurry screenshot that pictured a kissing couple. A gasp left (y/n) as her mind finally realised that it was a picture of her and Aaron, lips locked in the bathroom at the BAU. Attached to the picture was a short message, words that left the young woman shuddering. 

“You’re mine, you belong to me, (y/n). Now you’ll have to pay for betraying me with him.”

[hhighkey]

Taken, part 2 // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey's phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: stockholm syndrome, love??, implied past kidnapping, implied references to depression, suicidal thoughts, unnamed chronic illness, medical inaccuracies, marriage, rough sex, size kink, lots of come im so sorry, manipulation, female reader Note: about 17k words, ao3 link: xxx, link to part 1

The union could never be legal, technically Uvogin didn’t exist, but that didn’t matter. Not to you when he confidently proposed with the biggest grin months after getting you back from Bates, going on a ramble about the thought of you being someone else’s wife terrified him. To him, it furthered his ownership of you, and was another way to show his utmost commitment and love. Not that kidnapping you four years ago was a total display of it or anything… That it took someone else trying to marry you for him to think of it. 

Never sure what to categorize as the happiest day of your life, for now that day took the cake. How even on one knee he was taller than you, a gorgeous ring in hand (you could thank Chrollo for that as you found out later). The idea of being someone’s wife when you were little had been like a dream, you’d always gawk at wedding stores and the dresses on display. It was more of a fantasy to look the prettiest surrounded by even prettier decor, not necessarily about the concept of ‘in life and death.’ After so long with Uvogin you understood that marriage wasn’t about a gorgeous wedding but about the vows and status it brought. Because your relationship with Uvogin was the epitome of together until death. And with each day getting harder to get out of bed, blood painting your tissues after coughing, you realize that death is on the horizon.

However, for the last few weeks Uvogin was doing his best to avoid a certain group. The term ‘bachelorette party’ became a forbidden term to me murmured around him, it’d be a night where he’d have no control. However, three people weren’t letting him off easy as you found amusement in him trapped.

“Fuck no.” Uvogin grunted, eyes tensely looking over the three female Troupe members, “She doesn't leave my sight when I’m not workin’.” 

“It’s a thing Uvo.” Machi said, “You’re not supposed to see the bride a few days leading up to the wedding, especially the night before and day of.”

“Okay so you can have her tomorrow then.” He waves them off, going to grab your arm, but Machi cuts him off stepping in front of you.

“No, you can survive two days without her.” 

“Whaddya wanna do babe?” He focused on you, pretending not to hear the pink haired woman. 

Your mouth falls open as you glance between Uvo and Machi. Your chest flutters with discomfort being in the middle of a strange face-off, where you particularly didn’t want to see Uvogin perturbed with you if you agreed with the girls. “Um..” 

“The four of us are going to do something tonight.” Pakunoda steps in, her voice level like she were talking to an overly large toddler not getting its way. 

“Like what?” 

“None of your business.” She stared at the larger man down. 

“Well Y/N’s my business so, anything she does is my business.” 

“It’s bad enough we can’t force Phinks and Feitan to let us have their girls, but let the poor bride-to-be have a bachelorette party where nothing can possibly happen. Then she’ll be your wife in two days and you can dictate the rest of her life, how about that?” Machi huffs, annoyed, “Go bother Nobu if you get bored but we’re taking her.”

“Yeah, no you ain’t.” He went to push past her, but she shot a hand up pressing on his chest. 

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Machi asked. 

“I- Uvo I would really like to spend time with them.” With a slowly ticking clock on your life due to the state of your health, you think you should say what you want. For a second you remember, like a little flicker at the back of your brain, times spent with friends shopping, movies, gossiping about boys. Makes your heart yearn for that type of connection again. Clarity seemed to leak into the depth of your mind the sicker you got. 

He frowned at you and time seemed to stop until he nodded, “Alright.”

“That was easy, thought we’d have to steal her in the middle of the night.” Shizuku said absentmindedly, which earned her a few glares. 

Uvo fretted over you before he let you go, fingers prodding along your delicate skin as if you were the most precious treasure, as if you’d break from one touch alone. 

“Behave.” His words come across as a warning but you hear the depth to it, the worry rather than a threat. 

“I always do.” You tease, moving to hug his thick, muscular torso. A small part of you wants him to scoop you up and lock you away with him, your heart beginning to panic at the idea of separating from him. Yet your mind told you to stay strong no matter how badly you wanted to melt right into him. 

Uvogin made a few more tiny threats towards the girls before he finally left, telling you he’d be at the Base. For a moment your chest twisted in pain knowing he’d be hours away, not working. You could survive being without him due to his job, but not knowing he was free.

So you stood in your townhome with Machi, Paku and Shizuku watching you. Sure, you considered them your friends at this point, slowly considered most members of the Troupe your friends. Yet you knew their loyalty to you was really loyalty to Uvogin, the help protecting you, keeping you healthy, keeping you happy- was all for him. While you’re sure they care for you as a person enough to make small talk, you’re Uvogin’s property through and through. But this moment as you debated what to do, made you want to feel hopeful. The three of them didn’t need to do this. It made no sense for them to fight with Uvo for days to let them host something. 

How Machi’s fingers dug into your bicep as you involuntarily took steps forward, 

“Don’t.”

You didn’t know how to be without him. Your body was slowly dying, and not the dramatic bullshit of aging. So perhaps it was quickly dying. The ever exhausting fog you lived in where all you had was Uvogin to care for you. His warmth disappearing from the room settled a chill and awareness. 

Machi has her normal blank expression, but she seems pleased when you nod, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

The looks exchanged made you wary. 

The devilish upturn of Machi’s lips makes you wonder if you should go run back to Uvo. But the part of you, stuck oh so deep down, that couldn’t rebel for years was overjoyed as it wretched its way out. 

“We are going out.”

“Out..?”

“You know, what normal girls do, dress up and get drunk, flirt with men.” 

You cringe at the last part, discomfort swirling in your gut. Normality. Normal girls. You play the words over and over, hearing her words echo as a harsh reminder. But also self reflection as these three weren’t normal either. Farther from it and yourself. Perhaps you nodded, agreeing to the location they wanted, because you’d missed out on so much. Though the sour taste in your mouth lingers as you all get ready as if it were any other night- that everyone in the Troupe was all aware of the fact Uvo kidnapped you. No one told him that he should reconsider, that it’d be selfish. But did you even want that? Would you have wanted Machi or Nobu to tell him to let you go? Because the thought makes your stomach flutter with wrenching nerves you don’t want to think about, as society’s version of normal wasn’t yours. And like that, you snapped back to the image staring back at you in the mirror, the girl chronically ill yet irrevocably in love with someone they shouldn’t be.

You look- strange. Yet you’re taken aback by the beautiful girl Paku had turned you into, makeup breathing life back into your sullen state. A flash of somebody else, a younger version of you reflected, prior to knowing what you’d become and with who. It’s nostalgic almost, thinking about the minimal times you’d gone to a bar with a coworker or an old school friend, how you debated over what to wear or how to do your hair. With Uvo it was simple- he didn’t care what was on your body, or if you had makeup, he controlled everything you could and couldn’t do and it simplified everything. 

The dress fit you like a glove, pushing cleavage up and you wanted to retreat into yourself.

The night sky preys down on you. Buildings feeling like they were closing in, the openness of the town, the fresh air felt like a jail. The fact you were in the open with options was suffocating, but you walked with your arm linked with Paku’s trying to save face. Trying to push down your insecurities and thoughts of Uvo getting angry with you. He’d never have let you wear this, never had let Machi push a shot of vodka down your throat prior to leaving. Thrilling. Yet terrifying. The best way to sum up what coursed through your veins while wanting to turn around at the same time. 

The lack of alcohol the last five or so years was clear, the shot made your cheeks tinged pink and a dazed smile on your lips. You tried hard now to sway as you walked and luckily the cool breeze against you the last few minutes helped to bring you back down. The taste of it was exhilarating- dancing on the edge of inebriation and the thoughts that came with it!

“I- Can’t.” You take a step back, “Too many people- I can’t.”

“Hey- Y/N.” 

You stare at the ground as you stumble back to some steps, letting the cold pavement press against you. Stuck inside yourself as your world spun you began to ramble, 

“I- Only people I’ve been around are the Troupe. No more than 12, never more. A-And Bates kept people away from me. No- No, too many. Feels suffocating, like I can’t breathe.” You look at them with terror written across your face, “Why are you all doing this for me? Because you know I’ll die? Or because you feel bad for me? Y-You know he kidnapped me, I’m not allowed to use phones or see my old friends, my family thinks I’m dead. Yet…” 

Machi crouches down to get eye level with you, “You deserve a night of freedom and fun you should have had. You’ve given all of us more kindness than we deserve all these years. And Uvo has never been happier in all the time we’ve known him. We want to repay it back before you die as his wife.” 

“We’ll take any backlash that comes of this, with your state Uvo wouldn’t dare to upset you.” Paku said, correctly inferring the nagging at the back of your mind that this would make him furious.

“You could get away with a lot more than you realize because he’s terrified of you dying, remember that.” Machi’s intensity bores into you in a way that makes you sit straight up. Either from the fact her nen could kill you in an instant or she was trying to instill you with a backbone. 

“How much longer do you have, Y/N?” Shizuku asked. 

“I… Don’t know.” You push your fingers against your temple, trying to stifle the weight of everything on your shoulders. The sting of the vodka still in the back of your throat, your eyes focused on the heels you wore. 

“A year at most, probably eight months.” Machi replied.

“Why- Why would Uvo be scared to upset me? Hasn’t stopped him before.” You flinch at the reminder of your impending doom, no matter how much you were coming to terms with it; It was Uvogin’s karma.

“With my non-professional medical guess, who's been there since the start, is that there’s so much medicine can do if you’re giving up. Uvo doesn’t want you to want to die, selfishly wants you to hang on for as long as possible even if you’re in pain.”

Oh. It felt like you hit a wall. A harsh wave of soberness and the realization of where you were, “I wondered, why it took him so long to think of marrying me? Did Bates love me more to go through those lengths? What did I do to deserve all this?”

No one spoke. It would have been hypocritical for them to, they were just as big of monsters as Uvo. That they didn’t need you looking at the situation from an outsider’s viewpoint anymore, a discomfort settled within their guts. 

“Can we- still go to that bar?” You ask, breaking the silence you caused. 

As much as you spilled to them unprompted, knowing your words wouldn’t spur them emotionally to do anything, you were always smart not to let anyone in on the doubt you felt. On the anxiousness since Bates, on the second guessing if your emotions for Uvo were real. You knew everyone would take it wrong, that you’d been indoctrinated or rebelling. 

Because hadn’t Uvo washed away every insecurity that made you doubt your love? All this hushed proclamations whilst his cock was buried in your guts. The small touches and the fact you no longer had to lift a finger. His ever permanent seeming presence. Right? Ringing struck up in your ears forcing you to shake it off, Right. Right. No question about it as you stared at the ring on your left finger. You were excited to be his wife, to further cement your love. You had to be. 

“Of course,” Paku said, “Let’s go. You can hold onto us as much as you need.” 

Everything was a blur after they helped you up from the step, urging you to forget about your woes. The line wasn’t a long wait before you’re stepping into what felt like an alternate dimension. Thick sweat-infused-air with the smell of alcohol, bodies shoved like sardines, and strobe lights beamed around. 

Music. Music! Oh it made you sway in utter glee as the bass reverberated in the depth of your soul. You felt like a fish out of water with your fingers intertwined with Paku’s, looking around the room like an awe struck child seeing the world for the first time. 

A glass was shoved in your hand and you indulged, then again, and again. Uncaring for the strength of the liquor or the overly sweet syrups, the taste of freedom was absolutely addicting. How you’d missed alcohol in all this time, you’d beg Uvo to let you drink again. Soon your vision blurred along with your doubts. 

It was tiring always worrying. Always wondering. Being on edge. Doubting. It made you suffocate and being able to let go was pure relief. Giggle and laugh with the three Troupe members like any other friend group would. Even if they weren’t as into or as relaxed as you, watching your every move, you didn’t mind. They were doing this for you.

Any man that approached you was shooed off with a threatening glance from Machi. You were encapsulated in a perfect bubble as you bounced around sucking down another tequila infused drink. Not caring that you didn’t know any of the lyrics because this was music you’d never heard before. When was the last time you’d listened to music? You stop as you warm, bodies pressing to you, and you realize you don’t know. 

You tug your dress further down your thighs, attempting to cover more. You falter in your steps and arms are on your waist in an instant. 

“Ready?” Shizuku stares through her glasses at you.

You nod. Was it late? How long had you been inside the club dancing to your heart's content as your mind went to mush. 

The air outside was frigid compared to your body’s temperature, to the red flush along your skin and sweat beading at your hairline. Hair a frizzy mess. Mascara smeared under your eyes with the glitter from atop your lids. You hadn’t smiled so big in so long, to the point your cheeks ached as you tried to skip along the paved sidewalks, giggling like a madwoman. Pakunoda never let you get far though, listened and responded to your entertainingly slurred words and statements. And how you slowly began to wear down, to slow in your steps as you wrapped an arm around her. Contentment resonated from you. 

They’re on edge first, you not noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. That the aura around you all dropped, anger seething through it. Three forms stood past the turn. One particularly large. 

Uvogin. Flanked by Nobu and Phinks, who looked more annoyed than anything. Yet it wasn’t them that brought concern, because Uvo looked halfway ready to destroy the local buildings. 

“The fuck are you all doin’? Thinking you can take my soon to be wife out to get drunk, take ‘er somewhere I don’t fucking know.” He’s rigid, a murderous aura surrounding him. Muscles flexing as his jaw locked. Oh Uvogin was a big and terrifying man yet you looked at him like the dark, bustling city was naught. 

“Uvo!” You squeal, delighted, your core flush with warmth as you don’t notice his anger. Your thoughts are screaming for him, chanting his name like a prayer because there he is! He’s suddenly in your sights, though you aren’t sure why there’s two of him, but all you want is to squeeze him, take him for yourself. The way his thighs squeezed against the fabric of his shorts you narrowed in on, thinking about running your hands against them, prodding into the skin. Massaging and kissing and moving to his thick co- your core goes warm, such liquid goodness that you can’t fathom being away from him any longer, your daydream making you go numb.

You push off Paku and skip over to Uvo, practically throwing yourself into him. Which he caught you with ease even without prior notice. You nuzzled into his warmth, feeling his calloused fingers run along your arms. You don’t feel how he tugged down your dress as it’d ridden up, or as he checked for any marks. And you certainly didn’t feel the genuine panic, terror past jealousy of you drunk around others. The fear of you out without him. Finding someone else more interesting upon realizing how much he’d taken from you. Living a life that didn’t include him. And if you wanted said life back over what you two built on the cracked foundations only help up on your (possibly) messed up sense of reality. 

“Hi baby.” Uvo said in a fairly choked back tone; his attempt to seem relaxed towards you while he was really seething. In his mind he had to blame his fellow Spiders, that this was on them, not you. 

“Want you.” You whined softly, eyes filled with heated want that bore into him. Your palms flat on his chest feeling his erratic heart beat like it was your lifeline, “Missed you.”

You don’t remember much, not as you swayed in his grasp, vision splitting your environment from doubles to triples. The hazed joy settled into a comfortable exhaustion as your eyelids drooped, uncaring for the voices that argued around you. It doesn’t matter that it’s getting heated, not to you, this night has been better than the stars above. Topped off with Uvogin at the end. As your head falls limp, knees buckling, your last drunken thought is on the wedding. 

Feeling your body beginning to go limp as you mewled into him, Uvo picks you up cradling you into him. Your touch grounded him. Your excitement to see him might have been what stopped a possible massacre powered by his anger and fists alone. You’d missed him terribly even when you had the whole world at your fingers, and he loved that. Filled him with a sense of pride. 

“We’re going.” Uvogin nodded to Nobu and Phinks.

“Good fucking thing I didn’t let my girl come. Will have to tell Feitan ‘bout this.” Phinks grumbled under his breath.

“We’re heading back to Base.” Nobunaga tells the girls, “Come if you want, will be a tight squeeze.”

The group began their departure, silence amongst a still bustling town. Tension thick enough to cut with a knife, trepidation building within a few of the Spiders. Strange looks from some, especially at the large man carrying a girl who looked like she had a rough night out. 

Soon buildings died out. Lights limited. Roads turning to dirt, fences showcasing expansive private overgrown property. Countryside came into view with a car waiting, as Phinks pulled out the keys. For a second they all share uncomfortable glances unsure how they’ll all fit, but one person in particular had a dark cloud above her.  

“Uvogin.” Machi said dangerously low, fists clenched and Shizuku ready to grab her if needed. “How long have you had her now, four years, or is it five? She’s not going anywhere she’s in love with you, as much as she’s able. She doesn’t know how to think without you telling her what to think about, nonetheless run away anywhere. Where would she go? She relies on you for everything and more, you are her life. And she’s happy about it I guess, babbled about you all night. She doesn’t have long and you know it, don’t let her go it’ll do more harm than good but… let her say goodbyes. Proper ones to those you took her from.”  

“No.” He responded without pause, “You’ve gone soft, Machi I’m surprised. I ain’t letting her out my sight from here on out, I’ll let Chrollo know I need a fucking sabbatical or something. You’ll be lucky if I let any of you see her again.” 

“She’d be upset about that.”

“Whatever.” 

“You say that now.” She knew he was bluffing, and of course he was. 

He squeezed your sleeping frame before settling into the passenger seat of the car, keeping you tight to him. He stared at your angelic form feeling his heart squeeze, “Don’t do something like this again. And one day maybe you might understand a sliver of what I feel for her and why I do what I do.”

Uvogin couldn’t fathom missing another one of your breaths. Not a single one. Because from here on out he’d claim them all as his. 

-

This was how it was meant to be- your wedding day- you realize as you stare at your reflection. You remember the attempted one with Bates felt like walking to your doom, while this time around with Uvo? It felt like you were walking through a floralled field surrounded by a thick lavender odor, heading towards the rest of your life. It felt right. 

A white gown flows along your emaciated body that has a faint golden sheen from the joy swirling within you. Excitement coursed in your veins as you finished final touches for your hair and makeup, relying on Paku heavily for assistance. 

It’s Fall, the orange and red leaves falling delicately around you as you carefully walk along a gravel path with grass laying flat from overuse. The cooling air filled with a cinnamon spice odor so acutely that of the lengthening nights as Hallow’s Eve was around the corner. Feeling wrapped in the comfort of your favorite season, a molten liquid spread as you inched closer and closer to the altar. Arm looped in Paku’s, a smile lives etched on your face as tears prick at your eyes, swirling sentient settling within. After much convincing, Uvogin agreed to an outdoor wedding at sunset, not being able to say no to you. The Trope had done an immaculate job at setting up a cozy venue

It was a whirlwind. Walking down the aisle to Uvogin. How he looked at you with misty eyes and utter happiness, looking devilishly handsome in a tailored suit, something you never imagined seeing him in. He towered over you with a powerful aura that made you feel safe. Nothing else existed when in Uvogin’s orbit. How his hands held yours, staring so intently like you were the entire world. That you were all that existed on this plane, that all he wanted was to whisk you away as soon as vows were shared. 

You were always his, but to Uvogin this tied you to him forever. Emotionally linked your cute self to him in a way that meant everything to you, while to him the title of marriage did little to change his feelings. It made your heart swell and your face beam with love, making this worth it in his eyes.  

And it was worth it to see you walking down the aisle to him. His pupils dilated, shoulders dropping, mouth quirked up at the sight of you in a white gown. An angel. His heart soared and he stood a tad straighter beaming with pride. 

Closer. Closer to him. Time seemed to slow as you both became so consciously aware of the other, of how your hearts raced in rhythm combining. Circulating souls, winding and meshing, flowing together like pieces of twine twisting and twisting. Paku handed you off to him and he’s lit with a burning need as your smaller hands slot into his perfectly. A necessity so pure, like a starving man who’d kill for his survival, burn the world to the ground to have you. 

Nothing else mattered besides you; not Chrollo who began the ceremony, not the eyes and pleasant words of the other Spiders and their partners (who stared hopeful at their lovers). 

Only your tears of merriment as you peered up at him like he was your savior, mattered. He was your salvation. The sweet words that left your lips as you cried through your vows with breathy laughs, built him up more and more. Uvogin’s vows were strong, filled with his promises of protection and love, his thinly-veiled apologies for the past and the excitement to continue as husband and wife. 

A faint cinnamon smell wafted on the breeze, heavy earthy-spice amongst the falling leaves. The sun is setting beyond the horizon. Dimming violet skies flourished as the ceremony ended- you in Uvogin’s arms as vows sealed with a kiss. A symphony of harmonious noises blurred out your surroundings, a deafening buzzing that should have made your stomach churn and your instincts blare red. Instead it’s elation that spurred your tunnel vision as you kiss your husband passionately uncaring for anything else. 

Maybe you were too far gone from the clarity you’d had, from the questions of Uvo’s real feelings you once picked apart. All of it drowned and stamped out. Glowing delight crammed into every vein and bone, to your most miniscule of nerves. Plugged up so thick with the taste of Uvogin that you’re almost drunk off his scent alone, off the way his eyes raked along your body. The thought of him looking and touching anywhere else made you want to die. Like he was the oxygen you breathed. A fresh intake of air seeping with amber and intoxicating caramel, the taste of a maple tree’s smoky bark going up your nostrils to the tip of your head. 

Dizzied by his musk. Dizzies as your mind buzzed like a million honey bees flew about in crazed circles. Unable to wipe the grin off your face as Uvogin picks you up Bridal style to carry you off. Marital bliss is already consuming the two of you whole, Uvogin’s aura a violent red as his chest swelled with possession. 

Every inch of Uvogin; from his flexing muscles to his grueling height where his toes tingle with want. He was wounded so tight. Chords pulling and pulling, fraying as they did, and any moment they’d snap. He’d snap. Flustering begins to control him and you can see it in his eyes. The fire. The lust. All of it.

Uvogin wastes no time getting to his corridor of the Base, since everyone wanted the loud man in his own area to reprieve them of his usual antics. 

And he wasted no time placing you on the bed with a thump, your giggles music to his ears. Pure joy shimmered across your features and it had been far too long since he’d seen it. Uvo relishes in it as he helps you out of the wedding gown (tries to help while you beg for him not to rip it). Because for the rest of the night he has plans that will keep you a mess on his cock as you cry and scream for more, drunk off overstimulation, none of your innocent happiness to be found. Only your reliance on him. Your need for him. 

You’re on your back faster than you can blink, Uvogin pulling you to the edge of the bed. On his knees between your thighs you watch him with insatiable lust clouding your eyes, your senses, sending little volts of electricity up your spine as his rough fingers traced the skin of your inner thighs. How he kneaded and stoked, your mewls and constant jerking making a devious look fall over him. 

“I ain’t gonna be nice, gonna fuck my pretty little wife til’ she can’t take it. Then I’m gonna keep going.” His breaths fans along your clothed cunt, your liquids beginning to soak through the white fabric. 

You nod, feeling the numb tingle of anticipation wash over your body. Your mind as if it hung out to dry, lust dulling your senses. 

The sudden onslaught of his tongue has you seeing stars. He knows exactly how to tease your entrance to make you squirm and gasp, knows how you like how he oscillates his long tongue inside you to pull out an orgasm. Stroking your inner thighs so playfully and feather like, 

“Uvo- pl-please!” You beg, fingers yanking at his scalp. You need him like you need oxygen to breathe. Your senses are so dull, the air smelling thick of your juices and sex, a tangy musk that is sweet because it’s because of your love for him that you feel this way.

“Need somethin’?” The vibrations of his deep voice sent shivers up your spine, your mind spinning in lust as with a flick of his tongue, the way it then drags along your folds brings you back to your high. 

Sobbing for him as you snap, squirt dribbles and he laps it up, sucking your engorged clit to make you shake. To make you tremble and jerk and try to push his face away as slurping noises fill the room. 

“Ne-ed you!” You sob, “In me!” Your head is spinning and all you can think about is having his cock stretching you out. 

He relinquishes with a final kiss above your clit, pulling to strip himself of his clothes.

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between you two, you’re so small beneath him, just so cute laying in awe at his naked hulking body as his hand goes to stroke his godly length. You’re so tiny, so breakable and while he is always as careful as a man like him can muster, right now all he wants to do fragment you into a thousand little pieces. 

“You’re so damn tiny, wife.” Blood rushes to his cock, hardening it even more as the tip leaks precum swollen and red. The way his hand engulfs parts of your leg as he gropes makes him burn and he knows he can’t hold back much longer. 

“You want this fat cock in your tight cunt? You wanna be nice and full, all stretched out? Gonna take all I give you?” 

“God yes, Uvo.” You keen, “Please, fill me.”

“Who do ya belong to, wife?” His eyes darken as he lines his cockhead up to your dripping entrance. 

You squirm and moan lewdly, unable to focus as pleasure grinds at your core, “Y-You Uvo! My husband, I’m yours- your wife- yours.” You babble as his swollen tip continues to tease you. 

“Cunt is mine.” He thrusts in fully, a silent scream escapes you as your eyes roll back. Uvogin’s cock pulses and he groans in pleasure, muscled legs trembling as his nerves are shot full of an addictive high from your body, “Tits are mine.” He engulfs one of your breasts in his hand, thumb rubbing over a pebbled nipple. “Whole damn body is mine. Your fucking mind is mine, I own you.” His thrusts turn erratic, slapping skin reverberates in the room as your little pussy takes his ginormous size and violent force behind each fuck against your cervix.

Already a mess, you’re easy to move, easy to morph as Uvo adjusts you on the bed. Angle was just right, your ankles held down at your head and his hips just so to drive into you so deep you won’t be able to walk. Your orgasm blossoms as squirt juts from your hole as Uvogin’s long cock spreads you too wide and too deep, the pain electric and overwhelming but your hips shake. 

“You’re so pretty baby, so damn good takin’ me like this.” He grunts, throwing his head back as he continues to fuck into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “I love ya, love how you squeeze me. You want my cum this bad? I’ll give it to you, get you nice and full from it. Take me deeper now, you can do it, yeah?” 

His vulgar words are disoriented in your ears but they make you feel obscene, make you smile sordidly with tears in your eyes, and nod like your life depended on it. 

You’re lost in his wicked aura. Your wedding night lived up to all you would have hoped for it, as your dress lay discarded and you were folded in different positions as your husband drove the both of you to pleasured highs again and again. Heavy spurts of come coated your insides, too much so that it trickled out and painted your thighs, painted the sheets. Again and again he plugged you with his cock and filled you with heavy grunts, letting you feel the hot come shooting out from him for far too long, far too much that you could almost taste it in your throat. He hit every sensitive spot you loved that made you feel mushy and braindead, just a reliant little thing on him. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could barely hold your head up or moan how much you loved him and his cock. Your eyelids grew heavier, while your body shook from the continued rapture. 

Uvogin kissed you so lovingly, so much so that it hid his true malicious intents you couldn’t understand in your fucked out state, “I got you baby, gonna let me use you?”

You nod. Smile like a drunken idiot, and go lax. You feel every thrust, every pulse and curve of his cock, each slap against your ass, each kiss, lick, grope along every open inch of skin. You knew this was heaven. Heaven as he pushed you to your chest, hiking back your ass and slamming in. Your poor cunt quivered, gaping wide from his girth as his come leaked out, lower tummy inflated and Uvogin watched you with a glint in his eyes, and he couldn’t keep his emotions in. He let out a monstrous roar, one the brute was known for, and he let you take every inch of him uncaring if you broke or said it was too much. But you took it. You always did. Even if your gummy walls tried to force him out, tried to tighten up too much but he’d always push past the defenses to claim you and feel your clamping cunt as it came, as it squirted. And god as he’d toy with your aching clit he’d see you spasm even in your passed out state.

His fingers gripped your hips, they’d leave bruises he’d stare at proudly tomorrow. And he knows more marks will follow, he needs to mark you, to show anyone who you belonged to on all open parts of your skin. Your eyelids were finally permanently closed at this point, once done-up hair a mess, makeup all smeared. Tiny mewls all that escaped your parted lips. Yet your pussy still squeezed him like a vice, milking him for all it was worth begging for more, “Still so fucking needy for me aren’t ya? Don’t worry I’ll fill you all night till I got nothing left, you know your husband will always take care of you.”

-

Uvogin could never help himself when it came to you from the second he laid eyes upon you. His feelings are too intense and overpowering of his superb fortitude, years of destruction and rigidness in his work. And it took awhile the first few months before he took you because he adored who you were, and did not want you to become a shallow version of yourself. But he always knew it was his job to protect you as your friend turned captor, turned partner, turned husband. 

What type of man was he if he couldn’t keep his love safe? He’d spent years diligently watching over you, even going as far as to check your body for harm. Make sure you ate well, slept enough, and had a good amount of things to keep you mentally entertained. He knew you like the back of his hand and it was why he struggled from the start when you couldn’t get healthy. But with his mind set on it, it would happen, he was sure. 

Uvogin wasn’t always suited for tough conversations when it came to you, overall happy with everything. Never complaining about not being able to contact anyone outside the Troupe or go outside without him or an escort. You stopped going stir crazy after accepting your feelings for home were true all those years ago, loving his clingy touches and loud humor. 

But as the weeks went on after the wedding, your state got worse. And so did his helplessness, the gut feeling that he was still not doing enough. His optimism wore on himself as much as it did you. 

Everything about you makes his heart race at such a speed he wonders if one day you’ll give him a heart attack. Simply based on his overly obsessive actions and thoughts, his every waking being is all for you. 

“Uvo, stop it.” You swat at his large hand that held a protein bar, “I’ll just throw it up. Don’t wanna.”

So maybe it was all coming to head after almost two years. Exasperation with the situation that turned into taking it out on the other. More or less you wanted a break from the pity, the treating you like a little porcelain doll by your lover. 

“You gotta eat, babe. Can’t survive off that baby food shit.” He sighed referencing the nasty apple sauces, ground up food into weird shakes that made him gag. 

“Better than nothing.” You murmur, staring aimlessly at the blankets you sat under.

Uvogin ran a hand through his hair, feeling disgruntled by your frail form not even looking at him. He moved towards the bathroom, dropping the bar in the trash. He wants to scoop you up, pin your chest to the mattress to fuck into you to hear you chant his name. 

He doesn’t mean to snap at you. But god he can’t fucking stand to watch what you’re doing, because he’s not stupid. He missed his girl, her smiles and snark, how she’d be equally all over him as he was towards her. His best friend and lover wrapped up in one. While he wasn’t cruel, swore if you were in pain then so was he, but he was tired of this push and pull. 

“You’re giving up.” His words come out harsher than he intended, but the bitterness bubbling up his throat spurred them on.

“Stop.” 

You wipe at your eyes because of the sudden tear that fell down your cheek. His words feel like a painful stab to the gut. 

“I can’t- I won’t watch you die, Y/N. Not even thinking about what this is doing to me. I can’t be without you.”

Anger filled you but you couldn’t breathe, dry heaving through your sudden sobs that hit you like an avalanche, “Doing to you? I’m the one dying, Uvogin. I’m the one in pain every day and every breath.”

He flinched at the usage of his full name. 

“Let me die, please it hurts so bad and I have fought. Fought for you, for us but I’m so tired. You need to let me go so you can move on with your life rather than be stuck as my caretaker.” Desperation laces your words, all you want is for him to hold you in his arms. Not for him to stand by the door with a faraway look. The sorrow on his features and the regret swirling in his eyes. You know he’s hurting, but this is destroying you.

“Is that what you think?” His fists clench, muscles going taut as they strain against his shirt, “That you’re a burden? That I’m better off without you? I take care of you because I love you, not out of some stupid fucking caretaker duty I’m obligated to.” 

“But aren’t you? You are the one who kidnapped me, you have to care for me or throw me to the curb if I’m not fulfilling my duties.” You spat, and you don’t regret the words as they slap him in the face making it twist in a dark glare. 

His brows pinched together, lips purse as he exhaled jadedly. The fierce mocking chuckle spewing out made your blood run cold, “We going there?”

“Maybe we should. We never have properly, always joking about it because it worked out for us. I downplayed what you did because you always respected me, kept me as me. Didn’t force me to fuck you, or be with you. And we always had amazing rapport even before that.” The aggravation of talking to him like he was a non-receptive 8ft plus wall made you want to rip your hair out. Not a flash of any emotions on his face leaving you to reel and second guess. 

“What’s the point of this babe? Gonna start throwin’ shit at me again? Begging me to let you go?”

“No!” You sit up straight, rolling your shoulders back feeling frustration and the sudden want to rip your hair out, “I love you. Only way I’ll ever want to leave is if you no longer feel the same, or if you hurt me. But jesus Uvogin, put yourself in my shoes even with your limited fucking ability to empathise. Because sometimes I wonder if you love me the way I love you, or if I have fucking stockholm syndrome!”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth, how you really feel.” You press, almost as if you wanted him to snap. You’re tired of half truths, of him dumbing everything down like you’re a child.

“The truth?” His eyes narrowed as his chest thumped, felt like his insides were turning inside out in absolute agony, “Truth is I feel fuckin’ useless and you no longer care about living. You are leaving me, you’ll be dead. And now I’m hearin’ you think your feelings are fake? What a fucking time this is.”

“How am I supposed to not die, Uvogin? Tell me. I sleep all day, take handfuls of pills, IV for fluids. My body is rejecting it all and you don’t care that I’m in pain, you care more about having me around so you can get off.”

An explosion of red aura escapes him with a growl, his fist coming down on the closest piece of furniture. You gasp, heavy sobs returning as you recoil in ear. Realizing what he’d done, he tried to approach you, but you cried for him to stay away. Fear. Dizzied confusion written on you and Uvogin doesn’t know how to take it away. Not even the first few months after taking you, had you looked at him like that. And it made him want to die. 

“Y/N, M’sorry. Fuck. You’re my life, I love you. You aren’t some fucktoy to me, you’re the reason I breathe. And I’m so scared of the day I gotta live without you. It’s no excuse, but please. Would never hurt you, you’ve gotta know that right?”

You stare at him. Blank. Fingers gripping the blankets you used as a shield until your  knuckles turned white. Wet streaks falling down your face, off your jaw staining the fabric. 

“By begging me to stay alive… You are hurting me.” You whisper, but he can hear. 

“Fine,” He growls needing to leave your presence before he lashed out more, “Then you got my fucking permission to die, wife. I’m done.” 

He spares you no other glance as the door slammed behind him. You’re left trying to pick up the pieces, pick apart his words. Unable to hold back the flood of sorrow that seeped out, hysterical, airy cries as you heave. Pathetically quivering as you hugged yourself, slowly rocking back and forth atop the bed as it sets in. You think he means he’s done, he doesn’t want you, this is him washing his hands of you and your fate. 

You call for him, his name falling onto nothing, sniveling and blubbering like a mess. The air suffocates you, thick as it wrung you out. Dull skin prickling like a thousand needles inserting within you. Searing pain behind your brows and temples as it felt like your head was being crushed as your eyes went puffy and red.

Stuck in limbo staring at the wall. For months you’d been living under pitying glances, careful words, and locked up in an ivory tower of protection against the world. Even yourself. 

Your actions not your own as you move like a woman possessed, a ghost haunting the halls of its resting place. How you dressed for the colder weather outside the Base, discarding the disaster of splintered wood Uvogin left during his outburst. You moved with whimsical intent and glazed over eyes. In a trance as you padded along the eerily quiet halls then the main room, not a Spider in sight. Not that they could have stopped you, or even noticed as Uvogin’s screaming caused them to scatter. Pity as they had no choice but to listen as his deep voice echoed through every cranny spewing hurtful words.

Nobody stopped you as you opened the door to the outside. As you stand in the doorway contemplating stepping out, you realize it’s the first time you’ve been able to go somewhere without permission, with your own autonomy. With that you leave, crossing an invisible boundary that leaves you feeling lighter.

You walk, slow, stumbling as your lungs struggle to adapt. 

Unable to get far, you collapse unto a patch of grass, overlooking an expansive patch of trees overgrown with weeds and vines. 

On replay in your mind is the fight you’d just had with Uvogin, how his words sliced you deep. How he struggled with your pain, and how you spent too much time keeping your thoughts from him to ease his own. A selfish feat. But they were fearful, self deprecating thoughts that plagued you day in and out. The heaviness of accepting an eventual death that could be at any turn. The realization of your complacency and how the doubt Bates’s kidnapping of you set a spiraling turn of events. That you doubted your love feeling anxiety over his touch or telling him those three words- and how it made you selfish. More than ever. That you now saw Uvogin’s actions in the evil, manipulative light they were, and you did not care. Not anymore. His charismatic, strong nature over you was irrevocably his property, his wife, and this would have happened kidnapping or not. 

The cold, you feel yourself becoming one with it as your shallow breaths exhale fog around you. Your body feels numb as your pulse slows at an alarming pace. It’s comforting, serenely quiet before a high pitched noise sounds in your ears. The scenery is beautiful, you admire it as your eyelids droop, this was a good place to pass. To rest. The sky so blue, the sun high and bright, alluding to a perfect Summer day yet you shiver from the almost freezing temperature. 

You hear footsteps approaching and you hope it’s Uvo, that he’d get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, that he’d make it up to you. But it’s not and you almost laugh, maybe he really did mean he was done with you. 

“Chrollo?” You jolted back to reality at the sight of the Phantom Troupe leader, at first having thought the figure was imaginary. In all these years you never conversed much, Uvogin having said the passing of his wife permanently altered him. 

“Y/N, dear.” His tone is gentle. He approaches and you see the heavy coat and blanket he carries.

“Don’t.” You stammer, “I’ve made my choice, I ask you to respect it. Just make sure he’s okay once I die. I used to think he deserved it after everything, after taking me but- god,” You let out an insane sounding laugh, “I don’t want to leave him, but I can’t live like this. Coughing up my lungs, blood, always tired, unable to eat. My body is giving out on me.”

“When I lost her, I thought my life was ending.” Chrollo laments, closing in on you to wrap you in the warm fabric. He takes a seat beside you, “It did. I’m forever stuck, unable to move on. And truly? I am okay with it. But there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for any members of the Troupe so they never have to experience the magnitude of losing your wife.”

“I understand but-”

“I want you to tell me what it is you truly want. If you could have one wish.”

You respond instantly, not needing to think of your answer, “To be healthy and live the rest of my life with Uvo.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I believe you.” Chrollo sighed, “I wanted to respect your wishes but I had a feeling you were accepting the path of a martyr as all roads appeared exhausted. I found someone, a skilled doctor from another continent who has treated and helped patients with symptoms similar to or more extreme than yours. He likes the challenges of strange chronic illnesses.”

You straighten, an invisible weight feeling like it’d been lifted off of you. Your mind is short circuiting however, as if you’d been unplugged. You’d had to come to terms with your impending doom after a multitude of medical avenues were taken at no expense. But Chrollo’s outreach must have been intense, it must have taken ages to discover if you’re only now hearing of it. 

Hope rushed into you. A re-ignited fire burning bright within, making the idea of living another day plausible. Something you wanted. 

“Does Uvo know? Where is he? He left me I… Thought he was done. That he didn’t want me-”

“I sent Feitan to find him, I wanted to talk to you first. The doctor is already on his way. I did not want to waste time if you agreed. And if you truly wanted to rest for eternity, I’d have sent him back.”

“How.. But the Troupe- please don’t kill him after.”

“No, it would be a waste. He is miniscule as a threat to us, I actually thought him to be dead all these years. I knew him briefly in Meteor City, he would come to treat the children.”

“Ah.” Knowing the doctor wouldn’t die for helping you released you from any possible qualms you’d have had, “Chrollo?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate it, and I apologize for making you come out here.”

“Do not. Uvogin should be the one apologizing to you.” Chrollo stands with ease, then helps you stand, “I wouldn’t let him off easy, while we all deal with things in our own way, he’d have always regret walking out on you if it were the final time. We should never take time with our loved ones for granted. I am only glad I could find a possible solution for you.”

You’re swelling with appreciation, genuine happiness that you don’t think you’ve felt since the wedding. And before that? Prior to your initial pneumonia diagnosis almost 18 months ago. And definitely prior to Bates. With the burst of joy through your veins you want to throw your arms around Chrollo and thank him profusely some more, but that’s not something you’re physically capable of. Your legs can hardly hold you upwards as you two walk, him having to keep a firm grasp on your waist and arm in case. Slowly the path turned into the walkway for the Troupe’s base, the walking time taking practically double what it should have. But that’s okay, you’re too filled with ambition dreaming about having a normal functioning body once more even if Uvogin still wants to be done with you. 

Your teeth chatter, tips of your extremities a bright red from the chill. Unable to stop shaking even from the sudden heat inside. 

Chrollo helped you into your bed in Uvogin’s room, telling you he’ll have Machi swing by. The warmth of the room and the mound of blankets covering you, it’s suddenly easier to sleep than ever. For now you let yourself dream about good health, about treatments working, but still worry scraped the back of your mind when it came to your husband. Burning deep in your gut at the thought of your vows meaning nothing. As you begin to drift off–  

You hear a deep voice yelling laced with panic. Uvogin sounded ready to rage, to throw furniture across the room, you could picture the anger radiating from him through his tone. Because his words are hazy to you, and even as the door bursts open you’re unable to look. The feeling of large hands combing along your cool skin was the last thing you felt before falling into darkness. 

Uvogin shudders in relief as he watches your chest rise then fall. Your wind stained cheeks still pink as his thumb dragged along your face. He’s coming down from an intense adrenaline fueled high, his heart hammering in his chest ready to burst. How angry he’d been as Nobunaga followed hot on his trail attempting to put reason into him. And how Feitan appeared out of thin air with a look mixed with pity and contempt, saying Chrollo needed him for an emergency. How his stomach dropped filled with nauseating butterflies as his mind jumped to you, that him storming out left you vulnerable. That you fucking died somehow, as he’d let you think he was done. His selfishness towards his lack of control wracked him with guilt as he raced back to the Base. 

But instead Chrollo awaited him with a stern lecture even as he tried to push back yelling for you, body screaming for you to be against him. Yet Chrollo sat there amused over his idea to let Uvogin’s thoughts run rampant to a worse case scenario, sickeningly wanting him to feel the sorrow, the agony of losing you to get it through his thick head this wasn’t all about him. Then the leader informed him of the doctor on his way, giving one final effort to help you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

Uvogin repeated as he pressed wet kisses to your skin, inhaling your scent like it was his own personal drug. His addiction to your frame in his as the bed creaked when he joined you under the blankets. 

How tiny you are compared to his monstrous form, precious and fragile as you subconsciously nuzzled into his warmth even in a half conscious slumber. He can feel all the cold that rattled you melt from your body due to his own heat, how you no longer shuddered as you fell further limp with relaxation. Little mewls escaping your lips. The jerk reaction of your leg twitching as you murmured something under your breath. Not quite actual words but always made his lips quirk. 

“Uvo?” You exhale with a smacking of your lips, a whimper as you attempt to shift. Arms and legs trembling as you stretch out waking from your quick douse of sleep, “You’re back?” 

Your delicate lashes flutter as you languidly look about. 

“Do… You still want me?” 

Oh his heart shattered from your frail words as you rubbed at your eyes, eyes glittering from the wetness in your lash line. Your bottom lip trembling that all Uvogin can do to show you his devotion is press a chaste kiss to you. 

“Always.” He grunted before deepening his lips against yours with force, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste and to claim. 

You gripped his bicep, head spinning from the suddenness of his stealing your breath. Now suffocating in his warmth, his scent, and his touch as you lose yourself in the pleasure running down your spine. Emotions all over. Anger at him for leaving, for yelling. Relief he’d come back. His hands roam underneath your clothes to lay ownership over your body, a heavy groan vibrating into you as he tugged you closer. If it were even possible. He’d tie you to him if he could, keep you glued to him, be inside you to be molded as one. 

As you become more aware, your feelings of betrayal towards him coming back, you push on his pectorals. And when he doesn’t budge you push again harder, words laced with venom shooting from your mouth. 

“I want you off me.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, surprised as he pulled away. Someone so big with his bulking muscles looked like he wanted to shrivel up before he regained his senses, then attempted to entrap you in his arms.

“You don’t get to crawl into bed and kiss me after what you said. Would you have come back? Would you be this happy if Chrollo didn’t tell you about the doctor?”

“Baby.” He murmured miffed as you squirmed from his grasp, “I-”

“He found me outside, I was so cold and lost, going to just die there.” Uvogin’s face twists to something unreadable and devastating, but you continue, “He asked me what I wanted. If I would accept help from one last doctor, it would be okay if I said no. Uvo I’ve had to come to terms with all of this on my own, you’ve always been so convinced it would be okay. But don’t you understand we were out of options? We have limited time, all I wanted was to rest, to enjoy whatever I had left with you. Yet you storm off. I know it’s been taxing for you but I have tried so hard to stay alive.”

You don’t want to cry, you don’t want him to see you suffer more. You get up from the bed, seeing how his arm twinged as he held himself back from grabbing you, Uvogin was smart enough to understand times you needed autonomy to stick it in your head that you had a semblance of control.

“And I am going to do whatever it is this doctor wants to try, but if it doesn’t work you need to accept that I’m letting fate have its turn with me.” 

It felt like an eternity as you and Uvogin stared into the depths of the others eyes, watching every movement the large man could make. The apprehension in his body language as the gears turned in his head put you on edge. For he was stubborn. 

“Alright.”

Alright. He says it like it’s a defeat but offers a faint smile to follow it up. You sigh from the comfort it brought you, physically allowing your shoulders to relax from where you stood. The bed served as a thick barrier between you physically, but the expanse there mentally was like a cavern. 

“Uvo.” You sniffled, lips quivering as the necessity for him brought you to tears. But you couldn’t, wouldn’t as you remembered his words from earlier.

“C’mere baby.” 

“No.” 

He says nothing though you have ideas what he’s debating doing. 

“I can’t. Not after what you said. How willing you were to tell me to die, then walk away.”

From words spoken out of quick anger, Uvogin watched as the relationship cultivated between you two seemingly came crashing down. A thread wound so tight, pulling and pulling for months, finally snapped. And he knows he needs to patch it back up as quickly as possible, get you back into his orbit. 

He groans into his hands, pushing against his cheeks running his fingers against his skin down to his jaw, eyes moist. An incredulous look flashed across his face as his mouth opened then closed, then opened back up to speak but with no words to follow. 

A standstill, you wipe at your tears, “I think we need some time apart.”

“No. Absolutely not, you’re out your fuckin’ mind if you think I’m leaving your side.” From confusion to immediate discontent, his chest overflowing with annoyance at your stupidity thinking he’d give you space.

“But you did. Earlier.”

Uvogin had nothing to retort back for once as his brows pinched together. His thick fingers flexed as he focused on containing his growing temper he felt towards himself, the divide he put between you two. 

“And I fucked up. Got no excuse for my behavior besides I was pissed, I know I’m big and breaking shit around you isn’t the answer. Walking away won’t fix it but I had to leave before I did anything I’d regret. Couldn’t scare you further or risk hurting you. The thought of me being the reason you’re ever hurt makes me fucking ill, I’d rather break every bone in my body. I love you, and I’ll prove it to you every single day over and over if I gotta. But I’m not giving you space.”

It’s the most genuine apology that’s ever left his lips, has you warm inside and brain flitting to accept immediately. You see and hear the regret, it pulls at your heart making your stomach flutter with butterflies. He knew exactly what you needed to hear but this time around he said nothing he didn’t mean in an attempt to sway you back into his arms. He was a truthful, passionate man overall, only straying when absolutely necessary in keeping you happy with him. And he sees you perk up. Knows he’s got you.

“I’ll hold you to that.” It’s hard to hide the twinkle in your eyes, the involuntary upturn of your lips, or your reddened face because of him. How you know you’re giving in to him too easily and that you should make him work for it more. Get on his knees and beg, maybe do a few things while down there too. 

Because against better judgment you’re across the room and straddling the expanse of his large hips. Your lips desperately pressing into his uncaring for the way your lungs throbbed within you, not until you’re pulling back. A coughing fit comes over you, heavy and mucus filled, from the depths of you making you shudder. Uvogin holds you, petting your back as you hack against his chest. Burning. You felt so hot it was almost unbearable as the intake of any air was torturous for your frail body. 

He sighed into your hair, listening to your erratic pulse, “My sweetest girl. I got you. No matter what happens with this doctor, I’m here.” 

And you believe him, whether or not out of necessity. It doesn’t really matter anymore. 

You fall into a strange cycle with him the following days. Uvogin becomes your ever present, ever hovering gigantic shadow that moved precisely when you did. His intense gaze feels like a permanent fixture upon you, watching, assessing every move you made. From the food you consumed so that it was up to his standards of health, to taking over shaving your legs, to not letting a single person touch you besides himself… It brings you back to the first year you spent with him before the relationship blossomed, to how robotically he controlled your life. 

Pieces of you wanted to brush him off, punish him as exasperation boiled within you. Unable to push his hands away without a glare. His gigantic form pressing against you constantly.

But this was different, you had to believe so. He was scared to lose you. Bad enough you wandered outside with him knowing because he stormed off, almost leaving you to freeze to death. So day in and day out you're met with an onslaught of kisses and tender touches along with his over-protective barrage. In your soul you feel it though, the light at the end of the tunnel slowly approaching. Just what that light was- you weren’t certain.

-

Two weeks later on the dot does Chrollo arrive with the mysterious doctor in tow. You’re nervous sitting atop the table in the small infirmary in the Troupe’s basement. You remember the medicinal scent from the one other time you’d been down here and it makes you squirm, palms sweating as you fiddle with Uvogin’s fingers. . 

Uvogin had pulled a chair to be beside you, a large hand engulfing one of your own as the doctor carefully looked you over, taking vitals, and a few vials of blood. You’d pouted at the sight of the needles, begging Uvo for some help which only brought a wicked grin to his face. You knew he liked how hard you’d squeezed him as blood was drawn, making a face at the nauseous feeling it brought. He’s trying so hard to keep your spirits up and you daresay it’s working?

Things had been strange, more tense in some ways, Uvogin seemingly walking on eggshells around you. Scared to upset you. Overly doting if that were even possible for the clingy man who would choose to spend time with you over Troupe business. (Which took you far too long to realize how serious he was the first time he told you that.)

“I’m going to run these tests I need real quick. I need to be able to count out a few possibilities to confirm what I think our path is. My nen will speed up the process so sit tight.” The doctor, who was a short man with an overgrown beard, said offering a kind smile. 

“Thank you.” You take a sharp breath in and glance at Uvo. The door clicked close, leaving the two of you to sit in heavy silence.

You watched him slowly kiss your knuckles one at a time, expelling the unruly feelings of obsessive jealousy coursing through him. His overly possessive nature regardless of your health, hated the doctor’s hands on you. Was grounding himself as his lips dragged along your skin, “Feeling okay?” 

“Nervous. Hated describing everything I’ve dealt with, though I know he needed to hear it.” You sighed. The insurmountable effort to get out of bed each day was wearing you down, at this point you’re surprised you’re able to at all. Mornings begin with faint cries and whimpers as Uvo helps you up. Then you stay placated in the same spots, droning away at whatever is shoved in front of you. And night time was when your bones could relax and mind could have its reprieve from the constant synapses shooting aching pain through you. 

You didn’t speak much as butterflies spurred from Uvogin’s invasive touching, continuing to claim parts of you as his own as you wait. But there was a twisting past the sparks he made you feel, one dreadful and sickening. A wandering mind down alleyways of deceit telling yourself there’d be no magical cure or good news; that you’d spend your remaining time wasting away in suffering. 

Eventually the door creaked open and the doctor strode in, head stuck in a clipboard, “Alright.”

You’re sitting straight, electricity shooting through your spine. Uvo tenses next to you, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly.

The diagnosis was in the air of what you’d expected. Pneumonia from the time before Bates kidnapped you never properly healed. It expanded into more. Your respiratory tract was giving up and the rest  of your body did too. It wouldn’t be long before you’d begin coughing up blood per the doctor, the statement shaking you to your core.

“I see antibiotics have not done much, which are always the first line of defense. Which I believe a more aggressive track should be taken.” 

“And what is that?” Uvogin asked in a low voice, fringing on threatening. 

“I would like to put you into a medical nen induced coma.” 

“No.” 

“Uvo.” You grab his wrist as a silent plea, “He’d know better than us on treatment.” 

Your insistence has Uvogin backing down, as in his body physically relaxing. His muscles twitch in the arm you grasp. 

“I have seen and treated 3 cases of hemoptysis or pneumonia successfully this way. And have studied cases of past colleagues too. We are in the unique situation where my nen would be the driving factor rather than what a normal hospital would use. Your body would be given complete rest, no need to fight each day to walk or eat, or even rest. It would give your white blood cells the ability to fight this intense infection. This has turned a lung infection into something chronic, this is the only route that makes sense to take.”

“How long will the coma be for?” You race to articulate your swarming thoughts. They’re all jumbled due to your lack of medical understanding and the fear seeping in. But between you and Uvo, you need to be calm so he is. Because when it came to you, any sense went out the window. 

“Two weeks. But I would be able to tell from test results if you’d need longer. Then afterwards for 3 months there’d be a strict regimen of pills.”

You take a deep breath in, “And if this doesn’t work?”

The doctor gives you a solemn look, which you understand, “Then we’d want to make you comfortable.” 

It was a scary thought. Going to sleep and not waking up one day. One that you’d rather prefer than a malicious death, like torture at the hands of Feitan. While you feel confidence in this doctor, in that you’d wake up from the nen coma, it’s what comes after that makes bile churn in your gut. 

The doctor wants to put you into the coma pronto. 

Uvogin wants to argue, you see the fire in his eyes, the desperation on his face. The silent anger vibrates in him as he wants to scoop you, his wife, up and leave. His silent pent up feelings of failing you coming to the surface. 

He holds your hand as your body goes limp. The pink glow of the doctor’s nen cocooning you inside, not allowing Uvogin to touch you. He hates it. 

The days go painfully slow. 

An hour felt like twenty. 

The first week felt like a year. 

Uvogin was more combative than normal, aggressive with his words when he used them. Abnormally quiet but everyone knew to steer clear of him. Leaving your side was an absolute no-go for the large man, needing to watch every delicate breath to prove to himself you’re still breathing. 

If someone like Uvogin was truly capable of true self reflection- he probably would have during this time. Sure, his mind occasionally filled him with doubt, if his life choices were some fateful cause of your doom. Much like his thoughts had when Bates had you, at least this time he had his eyes on you. 

When the second week finally came to an end and the doctor confirmed it was safe for you to be woken up, that your vitals showed drastic improvement, Uvogin was elated. 

How endearing it was as you whined, eyes fluttering as you struggled to wake. Limbs heavy as you reach in the air through blurry vision, attempting to claw at your face. How you mewled for him relishing in his suffocating touch, fueling his protective instincts more than ever. 

You properly wake to lips against your own, stealing your breath before moving to your jaw. Through heavy eyelids you can make out the side of Uvo’s head, then threading a hand through his wild locks. You can feel his burning lips kissing, the nipping down your neck as he sucks the delicate skin between his teeth to leave marks. A fast sigh of pain leaves your lips as a jolt inside you grounds you to your surroundings. 

“Uvo?” You croak, voice betraying you as it doesn’t sound like your own. Throat dry and hoarse, it hurts to speak so you don’t. 

He doesn’t respond to you right away, Uvogin groping and squeezing at your skin. Swirling heat envelopes your weary limbs, sweat pooling along your hairline as your core goes flush with molten liquid. Sleep still dragged on your eyelids. You could barely move your own legs from the exhaustion and traces of medical nen pricking along you.  

Your legs move, Uvogin spreading your thighs wide. The bed creaks as his weight presses on it. His body exudes searing heat. Burning you as you squirm and mewl about the heavy fog weighing down on you. Chest heavy, heart hammering so much that you hear the blood pounding in your ears as you swallow in anticipation. 

The feeling of your nightgown hiking makes you gasp. Your panties peeled off your form felt like jabs of knives down your numbly tingling skin. 

Uvogin’s thick cockhead prods at your folds, “Fuckin’ hell your soaked. Thinkin’ of me in your dreams?” He chuckled cruelly. 

You whimper as a moistness between your legs fill you with shame, his words only prodding it further. 

Mind lit in static fire, blue and orange with smoke paralyzing your brain as your hips jerk to meet his involuntarily. Body blistering from head to toe, confusing lust settled in you as you feel a pained stretch through your smoky mind. 

“Fuck you’re tight.” Uvogin grunted as he sank his cock further. 

He’s splitting you apart. You cry out, a ghastly moan as your walls spasm around the large length forcing its way in. Dazed and overwhelmed. Impossibly full before you could properly register you were even alive. That you’d been in a coma for two weeks. That now, your poor cunt was shoved full of cock and your stomach expanded as Uvogin grunted with each vicious inch he pushed further in. Fingers seized at his biceps nails drawing blood, toes curled as your legs trembled with feathery pleasure whilst all you felt was unnatural. 

You’re being pushed and pulled every which way, caught in a dangerous undercurrent that shows no reprieve to let you swim upwards. Extraordinary pleasure blossoms within you, petal by petal unfolding and its bright colors glimmering in ecstasy. Ecstasy that choked you up to where you couldn’t breathe as tears brimmed at your eyes, desperately trying to gain senses.

Uvogin began to fuck into you slow, uncaring for the lack of prep, primarily driven by his insatiable want for you. Driven by the fear over your health and his lack of control. That shoving his cock into you to feel your poor gummy walls squeeze the life out of him, settled his churning emotions. That the incessant burn of anxiety in his chest was being snuffed out, and all because the electric pleasure of being one with you brought him. 

“Uvo!” You cry so sweetly for him, all hoarse and face filled with confusion. He was your lifeline in the storm. A storm he brought upon you. One that lifted you and dropped you as his cock hit your most sensitive spots, nestling up against your cervix only to pull out and thrust in again. 

Your lust filled whimpers only grow as Uvogin manhandled your thighs further apart, resting them on his biceps as he towered over you. His thick muscles corded with each push to the hilt of his hips flush to yours. Smacking of skin filled the dry air, your pain still twisting with rapture as his name repeats off your tongue. 

He leans to capture your lips, an inhuman-like groan from the back of his throat tickles your ears. It was one of desperation, higher pitched and letting you see him with shields down. His gigantic body practically trembles upon you as he picks the pace up, pistoning his hard cock over and over, and over. Mind blurring. Squirt dripples from your abused hole as you reach your high through a giant wave of pleasure. 

“Missed you.” Is all he moans. Again. And again.

Your arms move around his neck, legs attempting to wrap around his expansive waist. You can’t imagine him being any further, needing him closer, even closer than the part of him inside you. Because as you blink furiously, registering in your post orgasm haze, about the medical nen coma. That you don’t know the state of your health or the day of the month it is, instead all you can feel is your husband’s cock burying deeper into your guts like he’d never get to again. Overstimulated and too full, Uvogin roared as he came feeling your perfect velvet walls so tight, his vision whiting out. The way the bulge in your lower tummy inflated, the way he re-hardened in seconds to empty you to slam back in. A silent scream all that escapes you.

Fucking through each other’s highs there was nothing you could have ever wanted more than him like this. Maybe you would have wanted him to wake you properly to meet with the doctor to know whether or not you’d live or die. But you’d take this heated moment as you lose your mind as he fucks your sensitive nerves and toys with your clit, murmuring loving yet intense proclamations into your ears. 

Blissed-out face. Uvogin’s eyes burning into yours. Sweat falling from your foreheads. Cries of love. Heavy breaths. Electricity swarms you two, bodies lit in flames of passion and his possession over your body, mind and soul. As he comes again, letting your tiny cunt greedily take his warm seed, your chest sores and a pathetic smile tugs at your lips. You’re babbling incoherent words. Letting him grope you and kiss, and nip and play with your most sensitive areas even as you cried for a reprieve. His come leaked from your folds, an intense river of the warm seed trickling down to the bed, leaving you oh so empty from it and the aftermath of losing his cock. You cried for him to go back inside, that you needed to feel close to him to be one with him. Your hips bucked and jerked as tears fell, pitiful pouts before he laughed.

He sucks and licks along your cunt, slurping your juices and his own seed. Playing with your sensitive and enlarged clit as tingles shoot along your core, twisting so good in your belly. Sweet salvation as you sigh in joy and blurry vision from the pleasure his mouth gave you, collapsing further into the pillows and opening your legs further to welcome him. Fingers threading into his hair to keep his head in the very spot you needed. 

A whimper bubbles from you as he kisses up your aching slit, before leisurely dragging along your sensitive bud that feels just right. Furiously working you to another climax as he suckled your clit, a finger stroking inwards of your thigh. He pads along your sopping entrance and you shudder, watching as two fingers sink into your cunt. Two of his large fingers, which one alone bigger than most cocks. Stretching you out so good as he pumped and curled to your liking, stimulating all the spots that he knew made you go dumb. Uvogin thinks he wants to watch you lose yourself to him but he knows this is a fine line he’s on already, taking advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. But he can’t help himself! You’re just so cute and he’d been so scared the last two weeks. He needed to have his cock deep in your little pussy, the one he’d been so good not to fuck whilst you were in your coma. He wonders if you’d let him fill you again as he jerked his hips against the mattress as his cock began to harden again. 

You’re grinding against him, he smirks before latching back onto your clit and listens to every vibrato of each moan. Of each cry and beg as your slick rushes from your tight cunt, ecstasy blossoming inside you once more as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from you, him allowing your roadmap of pleasure to lead back to the thick tip of his cock prodding at your slit once more. You smile, so stupidly with a wet face and flushed skin, hardened nipples and asking for him to fill you up again. 

And he does.

Until you're leaking of him. Barely conscious and not able to even moan in pleasure. Until you're trembling and neither your arms or legs can support you anymore. Till he’s shooting blanks and still nudging himself back into you even as you drift off.

Uvogin ruts into your barely there form, pulling you to the edge of the bed so he can have a better view. His come dried and caked onto your skin. Hair a mess. Face swelled red and dried with streaked tears. He grunts as his feet garner support from the ground so he can pound back into you without worrying about the mattress holding him. He doesn’t care that you aren’t crying his name or begging for more. All he sees and cares about how you still squirt little streaks of juices from your hole and across his abdomen. How your body is so obsessed with his touch that he can still make you orgasm even as you lull in and out of sleep. Your clit is so engorged, pink and sensitive but he can’t stop playing with it, rolling it between his calloused fingers as you squirm. Or sucking on it so harshly you passed out earlier, only awoken by him tapping your cheek, pulling the back of your head up so you could watch his cock morph your insides to him as you barely understood what was going on before spasming and blanking out again. Staring into your blank eyes, mouth open in an O-shape, he tells you how much he loves you, and that everything is going to be okay. And of course you believe him, he’s your husband after all, the only man you’d let use you like a fuckdoll in your sickly state to the point your tummy inflated from his thick spurts of come.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself, you’ll come back to the reality of your situation. Tomorrow. For now you’ll bask in your husband as an escape.

-

It’s the next day, your legs and core are so sore, when you meet with the doctor. It felt like the pink blush was permanently painted along your cheeks as he checked over your vitals. Uvogin watched you smug, one hand tracing circles along the low of your back. The memories of yesterday are prevalent in the air, the thought of it makes you go flush. Uvogin knows the effects he has on you even in such a serious moment that you almost want to smack him for it.

This was it. The moment of truth. 

You're fluttering with anxious nerves, stomach churning and you’re eyeing the garbage can for the chance you puke. Thundering in your ears as your heart hammers and blood rushes. It’s like your surroundings were null as you carefully watch the doctor’s every move, listen to his every breath and word to analyze what they mean. Looking for any sign in his body language that you’re fucked, that it failed and you’re officially out of options. 

But it doesn’t come. He smiled warmly between you and Uvogin. 

“As I expected, my nen coma was a success.” 

As he expected? Had he seemed so certain two weeks ago? You didn’t think so, but apparently he believed off of past patients that you’d recover?

He continues, “Your body was able to replenish itself not having to strain itself the last two weeks. You’re out of the danger zones to where traditional medicine will be able to bring you back to around 90% of your strength. While it’ll never be completely perfect, permanent damage has been done, you’ll no longer be in chronic pain day in or day out, or worrying about coughing up blood. You can go up stairs without stopping and go for walks without needing someone’s assistance. You’ll have energy, an appetite, no longer with permanent symptoms of pneumonia, and excitement towards the future once more.” 

You immediately look to Uvogin, who for once looks pleasantly surprised. His eyes glitter as he meets your gaze, and he smiles. It’s genuine, not forced like everything had been at one point to keep your spirits high. Immediately, you fling your arms around him, tears prick at your lash line. Hugging him as tight as you can knowing you couldn’t hurt him, while his boisterous laugh is like music to your ears. 

The doctor sends Uvogin out of the room to fetch food, saying he’ll go over your medications now. 

For a second you stutter, your whole body short circuiting as you don’t want Uvo to leave. But his encouraging nod your way before he closes the door helps you relax. 

You quickly discover why the doctor wanted time alone with you.

“It’s fairly simple, these two bottles of faint coral-pink pills are for the next two months. They’re high dosages which is why they’re rather large pills, do your best to get them down. Take them with food as well.” 

The doctor grabs two other bottles, your stomach drops as you feel a change in the air. 

“Now, I’ll keep it simple. I can’t tell if you’re happy, what kind of doctor would I be if I helped you recover just to keep you with a dangerous band of criminals?” He laments, “The pale yellow pills are for the final month, they’ll cement the work of my nen and the pink pills. You should not regress for the rest of your life, they’re strong and will kill off any remaining infections or diseases. You’ll be lethargic so I recommend taking them at night.”

“What about the blue ones?” You ask, stomach feeling like it was in the pits of hell the way it violently churned within you. 

“They’ll undo mine and the pill’s work and will allow you to pass peacefully. Take them for a final way out.”

“You- How could…” 

“I’ll write down directions, yellow pills if you feel like the pink ones worked. Blue is needed if more aggressive medications are needed after the two months. At your discretion, who would argue?”

For a split second you wonder if this was a test. But you just smile at him, “I really appreciate your help. It’ll be nice to breathe normally again.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It took all your strength to not focus too intently on the blue pills as the doctor explained to Uvogin what they meant. He was completely bought in by the ‘deceiving’ explanations, no inkling present that one of the bottles could kill you.

You don’t want to think about it, not too much. You want to think about having autonomy once more. To breathe without hacking, to walk without needing help, to eat without getting sick. 

Month one- you take the bottle of pink pills. Each day, you aren’t sure if you’re truly feeling better or if it’s a placebo. A week of getting out of bed without tears or an aching body, is when you realize recovery was possible. You begin to enjoy full meals with Uvo, seeing the delight on his face when you bake for the first time in over a year. You two laugh at the mess, how half the pastries were burnt but it’s progress as you salvage the edible parts to feed the other. Your deep, nasty cough still surfaced each day. Less and less mucus each time. You’d sleep through the nights, once again becoming the one to wake up first like a waiting puppy for its owner, how expectantly you stared down at him nudging him to wake. How for the first time you were able to initiate sex with no worries of getting sick or him hurting you, as you took his swollen lengthy cock into your mouth. Him standing over you as he lets you explore him with your tongue. He’s so heavy and you giggle, warm and needy as you suck and kiss, lick along his thick veins to the point he can’t handle your teasing. You cry as he fucks your face but they’re good tears, and he watches as you swallow and then open your mouth to show him. Uvogin never leaves your side but for once you feel joy towards it, not frustration. 

Month two- you still take the pink pills and the improvement is astronomical. You giggle like a maniac as you skip about the fluttering grass outside the Troupe’s Base. Uvo watches you spin about before falling to the ground in exhaustion, he smiles as you bask in the sun. You’re breathing heavily but no coughing fits come. You’re bright red and clearly tired but you can still get up to keep going. He’s relaxing under a tree and you’re running around like your life depended on it, he thinks you’re just so damn cute. This is the month you return to more hobbies, become more talkative and want to watch more shows or finally give him back snarky remarks. Uvogin almost dies from the elation, the lightness of his chest at how life returned to you, how you were you. Not the husk of a person stolen away because of disease, you’re happy. Right? 

It’s now month three- you stare between the two bottles. ‘Take the blue pills for a way out.’ The doctor's words reverberate, you’d ignored them for the first two months not wanting to worry about it. Not wanting to get in your head before making a decision. 

You sit in the main room of the Troupe’s Base, Chrollo had called a last minute meeting the night before so Uvogin had to cart you out of bed, ruining a rather good dream. You’re staring at the medications on the counter, then eyes flickering to the clock. Today was the first day you needed to make your choice, the one you’d avoided for so long. 

Sickness numbed your mind at times, while at others allowed you to see things for what they really were. You think. You’d been ready to die, to be released from chronic neverending pain, but now having life back changed your mind. Little things you’d always taken more granted were now things you would never want to lose again. Maybe you’d lost yourself a long time ago, maybe you were always a horrible person to love Uvogin, but as you recount all these years with him you don’t want to lose him. Or the way he loved you. The doubt you’d had towards him after Bates was finally washing away, you walled all the incessant ringing you’d have in your ears off. No more were you susceptible to the common sense you had at the start of your captivity to always hang onto the truth about him. You walled it all off, brick by brick in your head. 

Maybe a part of you wants him to suffer. Wondering how he’d react when you suddenly fell sick again and passed, would he be ruined? Would he move on? You figured he’d do something dumb, find a way to get himself killed more likely. So you walled those feelings off too. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” You smile as Uvo walks out from one of the halls. You mewl into his large hand as he cups the side of your head before moving so you could lean back into him. He’s so large over you that when you lean back on the side of your chair that you only reach up to his thighs. 

You crane your neck to look up, “Everything okay?”

“Yep. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” He looks at the bottles on the table, “So, what ones you thinking? Can you mix them depending on how you feel each day?”

“Uh, don’t know about that, doubt it? I’ve been trying to recount everything to make a decision. Because I mean… I can’t complain, I feel good.” 

“Right.” Uvogin held a hand for you to take, then he grabbed your waist to help you up, “Up to you then, babe.”

The feeling of his thumb circling against your clothed side and the suddenness of standing makes your head spin. In a moment of striking clarity you reach to grab one of the bottles, certain in your choice.

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm.” You grin up at him, squeezing his hand as you lace your fingers with his. 

The bottle of yellow pills rattles in your hand as you two make your way to his room. The blue pills sit forgotten, almost screaming out for you to change your mind, to think things through again. That you needed to at least leave cracks in the wall you created to protect yourself, just in case. But you didn’t. You coated it in shiny protective layers of something in your mind, causing your chest to surge in feelings of love and all things gooey and over the top. Just stars left shining in your eyes as you look at him. 

The month of taking the yellow pills passed, they made you lethargic like the doctor said they would, causing you to get mass amounts of sleep. But he was right, they made you feel good as new. 

You sit cross legged in the townhome, leafing through pages of your book as Uvogin shuffles around in the kitchen. He’d insisted that he’d make dinner tonight, which you told him takeout would be just as satisfactory (and probably better anyways). 

After multiple interventions on your part you two finally sit connected at the hip as your weekly show plays, food in hand. When Uvo finishes he tucks an arm around your waist pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your hair. A heaviness in your chest suddenly becomes apparent, each time you swallow the food seeming dry and tasteless. 

“Uvo?”

He sensed the tension in your small body immediately, but didn’t say anything as he knew you were still adjusting. While physically you could handle a lot from long walks or eating actual food, mentally you were still catching up with the changes. 

“What’s up?”

“Can I tell you something?” You ask meekly. Your fingers feel sweaty, you have to set the food down on the coffee table immediately. A storm rages within you. One side telling you to spill, the other telling you to let this be a secret you die with.

“Anything.” 

“The- You remember the blue pills I could have taken instead of the yellow ones?” More screaming within you to stop. Like hands were physically trying to drag your voice back down, that this would only anger him. 

“I do.” 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, focusing on your hands in your lap. You’re more aware of his hulking presence holding you to him than before. You’re more aware of his steady heartbeat and breaths as you wait for them to speed up, to show his anger.

“You can’t get mad.”

“Mad ‘bout what? You end up taking any?” 

Your heart is hammering in your ribs, like it’d burst out ripping you and all your biggest fears into the open. It’s giving you away, you know it. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating you until you took a deep breath in. No lies. You were given a new chance at life and you would not keep this from him. Couldn’t. It was best it came from you rather than someone else somehow down the road. 

“They would have actually killed me.” 

Silence. 

“Uvo?”

“Yeah?”

He’s not reacting how you thought he would. He starts to fucking laugh and you’re staring at him like a deer in headlights. It makes feelings of annoyance bubble in your chest, anger as your nose flares and your pupils dilate. 

“Why… Are you laughing? It’s not funny.”

“Course it’s not, babe, but I already knew.” He shrugged. 

“How?”

“Shalnark. Guess he got curious what was in them after you said you wouldn’t be taking them. I said he could have ‘em to do whatever that tech freak does.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“Came to me and told me they would have regressed your pneumonia and caused you to pass in your sleep eventually. So I assumed you were aware of that, the doctor probably lied to me, and you made the choice to live. Of course I had to wonder what if you didn’t know and it was all luck you didn’t take them, now I know it wasn’t.”

“That’s why you didn’t say anything?”

“Yep, figured if you didn’t know you’d have flipped shit.”

“Why are you acting so calm? You’re freaking me out.”

Uvogin forced you to look up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “Because you chose me. You had all that time to think about it so you must have known for certain you wanted to be with me.” He grinned deviously, “Course I’m a little irked but, I do deserve some shit still for kidnapping you. I’d say it all worked out though, huh?” 

You playfully smacked his chest, unable to hide your grin, “You know I looked at the blue pills as a way out if the medical coma and pink pills didn’t work. That if I was back in pain, I couldn’t believe it almost, I was ready to suffer again. Not once did I want to use them because I wanted to be away from you. Sure I wondered if you deserved to suffer for the shit you do, but I love you. I wanted help from that doctor because I want more time with you, I could have said no to Chrollo three months ago. So I knew what my choice was from the start. You’re all I wanted those months with Bates, I had time to think, unravel my feelings yet you’re it for me Uvo. Guess you’ll get your karma in another way.”

“So fucking cute, wife.” His lips crushed onto yours again, his tongue shoving inside claiming you. He pulled you to straddle his lap before he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, “You had me believing in that stupid karma shit, you know that? Glad you’re finally passed me being a mass murderer and all that.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You groan, shame prickling the back of your neck making you go warm. The wall is still strong in your mind, keeping you happy, keeping you from fully feeling that shame that should have made you go comatose. Instead it allowed you to kiss him with all your might, tugging at the shirt he wore. A kiss turned to desperate chaos as teeth gnashed and lips fought for dominance, saliva shared and dripping as lewd moans began to fill the air. Carnal touches. Salacious grunts. Swirling hot sex filled air controlled you two as clothes thrown discarded and forgotten, unneeded. 

You’d made your decision. How much of it was really your own, was left up for discussion. You’d never know how much of this you really wanted, or if you’d fallen in love out of necessity for survival. Or if Uvogin really was who you were meant to be with. But all you knew as Uvogin forced his swollen cock passed your tight unprepped walls, you’d never want anything more than this man as you cried. You who practically passed out as he breached your aching cunt and to the hilt of your cervix, outlining your tummy and pushing to stretch you even more as he yelled out for you. This man who loved you furiously and would destroy the whole world for you if you asked. And that- wasn’t that the grandest declaration of one’s feelings you could receive? 

Right? 

authors note on an alternate ending— i view it as if reader were to die than this would head towards canon where uvogin dies by kurapika’s hand and he’s all content because he gets to see you again :))

[bellofthemeadow]

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Country Singer!Joel Miller x Female Reader

This is my entry for the 1k event found on @pedrostories

Trope: Forced Proximity

Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 12.7K (T.T Sorry )

Story Summary: Amidst a raging storm, an unexpected meeting thrusts you into forced proximity with former country sensation, Joel Miller, in the midst of an isolated nowhere. As the evening unfolds, filled with tension and vulnerability, both of you unveil the depths of your grief and heartaches. Through this shared journey of sorrow, an unanticipated bond forms, and maybe some light at the end of the storm.

Warning: Mentioned of death, TLOU canonical character death, mentioned of attempted suicide, depression, mental health struggle, referenced to cheating, angst, hurt and comfort, allusion of alcoholism, self hatred, smut, sexual intercourse, P in V, oral (female receiving), no protection, one night stand, age gap (late 20s/early 30s Reader with mid 40s Joel(No Minors Allowed! Thank you)

Notes: Hey everyone, I am taking a short break from my regular story to enter the 1K event on @pedrostories. What was supposed to be a short one shot, became an almost 13k word Behemoth! Although this is intended as a standalone, I found myself really liking the universe and the characters. If any of you would be interested to see more of the universe, I would be super open to making a second and a third part  😀 🤞 😀   

Let me know what you all think and if you'd like to see more of it and if you enjoy the story. I always love to hear what you all think!

Again, thank you to everybody, I love you all so much xxx Sending you all the love and support wherever you are ❤️ 

(SMUT BETWEEN **** SKIP IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT****)

Joel Miller sat hunched next to the large stone hearth, He carved a solemn figure in the corner of his secluded cabin. Far into the woods and away from the rest of the world, he had called this place his home for the past decade. Clutched in his hands was a photograph —a young girl, her long curly hair and dusky complexion frozen in a smile that still reached into his very soul and threaten to rip it out everything he looked at it. That smile, oh, how he longed to see it again, it had been his only wish for so long. Even for just minute, a mere second; he would gladly give his soul to have his life lighted by the smile of his babygirl just one last time.

With a gentle touch, Joel traced the delicate outline of his daughter, the girl whose absence had dug a profound whole in his heart. One that could never be mended again. It was ten years today, Joel thought bitterly. But still, he clung to her memory fiercely, fearing the gradual fading that time brings to everything. He dreaded the thought of losing the vividness with which he saw her now, a fear that gripped him tighter as the years moved forward. The details that once were clear as the early morning dew now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The echo of her laughter, the title of the last book she held in her hands, the subtle nuances that made her unique—he struggled to grasp them, and this realization filled him with fear and hatred. What kind of father forgot about his babygirl?

Was her sneeze loud as his own, or was it a delicate sound, more like a sweet whisper? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a relentless reminder of the gaps in his mind. Why couldn't he rememeber? What if a day came when he could no longer conjure the contours of her sweet face or the mischievous curve of her teasing smile? The thought was unbearable, the guilt consuming him more each days.

Joel’d never considered himself an exemplary father, he grappled with the weight of regret for being too engrossed in his career to give his daughter a normal childhood. The rhythm of their lives was not marked by little league games and playdates with neighbours; instead, it was deafining with the roar of tour buses and the pungent scent of roadies, accompanied by the loud cheering of fans all over the country. Sarah’s life had always been unorthodox and it had been his fault—home tutoring replaced high school classrooms, the lessons fitting in the gaps between Nashville and Austin, where he recorded albums to give entertainment to the world. Something that, looking back, seemed futile and completely stupid. He would give all of his money, awards and recognition away just to hold his Sarah one more time.

When she died, he was stripped bare, nothing left inside the whole where his heart had once been. And Joel found himself adrift, the passion for his craft evaporating. How could he make music without the sound of a heart that once beat in harmony with his daughter's laughter? The will to create, the desire that once fueled his artistry, had lost its pulse. The prospect of touring, once thrilling and freeing, now seemed like an empty road stretching into oblivion. What purpose did it serve if Sarah was no longer there to illuminate the stage of his life? The exhilaration of performance, the applause that once gave him purpose—these fragments of success had become hollow, devoid of meaning.

It was not all bleak though, amidst the darkness of his existence, there were moments where the good outweighed the bad. Nights brought dreams of Sarah, where her presence was vibrant and tangible. In those dreams, she would look at him with that familiar smile, and for a fleeting instant, the chasm between what was dead and alive seemed to bridged together. Joel would see her as clear as day, sitting together in their old house, the echoes of their conversations resonating through is sleeping form. It seemed like hours would melt away as Joel and Sarah would delve into discussions about music and school sharing stories that held a fragile thread between past and present. But in the end, dawn would inevitably break, and reality would reassert its grip. Joel would inevitably wake up, the cabin steeped in an unsettling silence, his heart laden with the guilt and grief of her absence. Those dreams were his sanctuary, a bittersweet realm where he could briefly hold onto the warmth of what once was. But he couldn't live in dreams, and now even those moments that seemed to make life bearable were starting to wade in their appeal; they appear more cruel than kind as every mornings killed him a little more.

A resounding clap of thunder reverberated through the confines of the cabin. In its wake, a brilliant flash of lightning pierced the darkness. Joel sighed heavily and the raindrops began their relentless descent upon the cabin's roof and walls. It seems like the world outside mirrored his internal turmoil, the tempestuous weather a reflection of the storm within. 3652 days had slipped by a relentless procession of time. 87,648 hours of unbearable absence. Each passing moment stretched into an eternity, a cruel reminder of how long he had been without his cherished little girl.

Immersed in this ceaseless torrent of sorrow, he existed in a realm of suspended animation. Every action felt like a monumental effort, and the concept of simply being felt like an insurmountable challenge. The world around him had dimmed, muted by the overwhelming weight of his emotions. In this somber existence, even the simple act of drawing breath carried the weight of an arduous task. The colors had faded from his world, leaving behind a landscape of gray and desolation, mirroring the emptiness within.

His hand reached out, fingers closing around the cool neck of the whiskey bottle resting on the low table before him. A pang of bitter guilt tightened within him—he could almost hear his little Sarah's admonishment, disapproving of the choice he was about to make. She always hated the strong smell of liquor that would linger on his old leather jacket when they would go on tour.  His eyes drifted toward the shotgun that rested next to the door, his heart seized tightly within his chest. Maybe tonight he would do it, he thought. Maybe tonight he would free himself from the pain and the guilt of an existence without Sarah.

In the stillness of the cabin, Joel's voice trembled with pain and longing as he whispered, "To you, babygirl, I miss you so much."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Loud knocks echoed through the quiet cabin, making Joel freeze in his tracks. Raindrops kept beating in a frenzied rhythm on the roof, their clamour joining forces with the unexpected raps. Joel couldn’t remember the last time someone had knocked on his door. With how remote cabin the cabin was, there was hardly any visitors, ever. Only his brother Tommy and his old manager Tess knew about this place. Tess used to drop by every now and then, hoping he'd start working on a new album (which would never happened). But now she knew better than that.

With slow and deliberate movements, Joel set the bottle onto the table's worn surface, his movement unhurried as if not to disturb the tension that now hung in the air. His gaze swept the room, his gaze landing again on the shotgun near the entrance. He grabbed it and made his way to the entrance. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a zealous fan who had somehow found his address. He really wasn’t in the mood tonight to re-enact Misery.

He swung the door open, his irritation peaking, prepared to confront whoever was bothering him on this day above all others.

"I don't know if ya capable of reading,", his voice dripping like venom, seeping with annoyance, "but in case ya missed it, there's a 'Private Property' sign right on the..."

You sat on the large leather couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible while your body shivered involuntarily as the chill from your drenched clothes seemed to seep into your very bones. You didn't want to be here. The man who opened the door for you certainly didn't want you here. But the violent storm outside had other ideas. The dirt paths of the forest had turned muddy and slippery and the force of the wind and rain had completely obscured your vision, there was no way you could have made it back to your car in those conditions. So when you had spotted the cabin as you were looking for shelter, you had almost cried in happiness. Now you weren't so sure as anxiety gripped you. You replayed the moments after the door swung open, revealing a stern looking man who eyed you with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. The hint of a shotgun nearby had done nothing but intensify your fear. For a second you had wanted to bolt from the place, but you had no other choice. In the end the man had let you in, simply introducing himself as Joel.

Clutching your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to generate warmth, you look around yourself at the interior of the cabin. Surveying your surroundings, the rustic charm of the living room did little to alleviate your anxious mind. The ambiance should have felt cozy, even romantic in any other circumstances, with the warm wooden decor and the crackling fireplace. But under the weight of your current predicaments, thoughts of roasting marshmellows and teasing kisses were at the back of your mind.

You were alone, drenched to the bone, in the company of a man you knew nothing about. Shit that was exactly how people died in horror movies. I am totally going to get myself killed, you despair frantically. They’ll find my body dismembered in a bunch of little pieces all over the forest, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

You tried to calm  yourself as best as you could, taking deep breath in an attempt to settle your mind. Frustated, you pulled out your phone. The meager 8% battery life and lack of data coverage was a sobering reminder of the shit you were in. If anything were to go awry, if this Joel turned out to be less than accommodating, you'd be stranded with no means of communication.

You had shared your plans for the day with your friend Chrissy mentionning how you were going to take the Broken Bow trails to. But even then, you two had been texting sporadically since you left DC so you were fully expecting her not to worry until several days had passed. Not ideals if you were to disapear without a trace. So, if Joel shifted from hospitable to hostile, no one would be none the wiser. And you would become forest fertilizer.

At this point, you were hoping that Joel would be more the flower and wine type instead of rope and chainsaws. Speak of the devil, the man appeared in the doorway, his large frame illuminated by a flash of lightning. In his arms, he was holding what you believed to be clothes "Got these for ya," he stated curtly, his gaze holding yours for a fleeting moment before he gestured vaguely toward the stairs. "Shower’s up those stairs. Go change and I’ll get some coffee on the stove. It'll warm ya up"

Your initial instinct was to decline, you began to stammer, only to be met with Joel stern gaze "I ain’t letting ya freeze to death in my livin’ room," He stated firmly his tone a command that quashed any protests. His words were spoken clearly, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. "Now go," he added, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Under the weight of his stern order, nervousness bubbled within you, mingling with a touch of gratitude. The contrast between his gruff demeanour and the kind gesture of care left you momentarily speechless. All you could do was nod, your voice silenced by his unspoken authority.

With a whispered "thank you," you accepted the bundle of clothes from his hands, your fingers brushing against his in a fleeting spark of connection. Without further words, you turned and hastened toward the staircase, his gaze lingering on your retreating form for a moment before he turned his attention to the kitchen where the coffee was. The stairs creaked under your hurried ascent, each step carrying you further away from the enigmatic man who had offered you shelter in this storm.

Twenty minutes slipped past quickly, after the hell of a day you'd just had, you felt like you were in heaven. The sensation of being washed clean, wrapped in warmth, and clad in what you swear were the coziest clothes you’d ever felt on your skin. A pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and a faded band shirt clung to you like a reassuring hug. You sighed contendly before meeting your own gaze in the bathroom mirror.

Looking back at yourself, you started to contemplate that you would soon have to venture downstairs to thank Joel. At the thought, a flutter of nervousness twirled in your stomach. The bathroom, with its locked door, felt safe, shielding you from the uncertainties of the rest of the night. Staying here, was tempting, at least until morning. Even if Joel had been nice so far, you didn’t know the guy from Adam. But in the end, you knew that you couldn’t just hold the guy’s bathroom hostage. Plus, practical needs called—you had to charge your phone, and the promise of warm coffee was hard to resist. Pushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear, you started to quietly make your way downstair. Praying to every Gods you knew that Joel was the good samaritan he seemed to be.

Returning to the living room, your gaze settled on Joel, perched on the same leather couch where you had sat earlier before he directed you to the shower. On the floor nearby lay some old rags, sopping wet with the water that had seeped in along with your drenched clothes.

Joel sat with a tensed back; his focus consumed by something he held in his hands. Tentative steps carried you closer, each one a whisper of uncertainty. Yet, despite your movements, the man remained oblivious, lost in whatever held his attention.

You approached with trepidation, your heartbeat quickening in the otherwise silent room. Your eyes flicked to the object in his hands, curiosity mingling with your apprehension. Peering over his shoulder, your breath caught as your gaze locked onto the image, he was engrossed in. A young girl, staring back at you with a bright, innocent smile that seemed to transcend even the still image of the photograph.

The room seemed to hold its breath, a moment suspended between your gaze and the photograph. "She's really pretty," you ventured softly, your voice a hesitant thread. Joel's response was sharp, almost as if you had slapped him. "... she was," his words carried a weight that hung between you both, heavy with a bittersweet melancholy. As your heart clenched at his words, understanding washing over you like a cold shower.

An awkwardness settled in the air, thickening the silence. You felt the pulse of your heart, its rhythm echoing the sense of disquiet that now swirled around you. Meeting his gaze, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sad brown eyes.

Summoning your courage, you utter "Thank you again for saving my skin out there," your words wavered slightly, betraying your uneasy timidity. "I put my wet clothes on the rack in the bathroom to dry. Hopefully, they'll be alright by morning, and I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible." The words tumbled out in a rush.

Joel's gaze remained on you, as if he was studying you intently, trying to unravel something beneath the surface. His response was measured, his voice carrying a southern twang "... 'tis no problem," he conceded after a beat. "Coffee should be ready," he added.

You nodded and followed in the wake of Joel's towering form. Along one wall, your eyes landed on an acoustic guitar that with the dust covering it, seemed to have remained untouched for a while. Intrigued, you couldn't help but point at it as Joel poured the rich black liquid into your mug. "You play?"

The response was understated, but you could tell there was more to say to this story. "... used to."

You took the hint, choosing not to pry further. At the very least, Joel didn't strike you as the stuff of horror movies; in fact, there was something about him that felt invitingly genuine. A warm and gentle gruffness that seemed lost in this day and age. As he poured coffee into your mug, your gaze wandered over him, observing the details that your earlier unease had masked.

Joel, in his rugged masculinity, demanded attention by his very presence. His size and broadness were emphasized by the worn flannel he wore, his biceps and shoulders hinting at strength beneath. Shaggy brown hair carried threads of white, suggesting a long life lived. You guessed he must be in his mid-40s. As he extended the cup toward you, his face once again came into view, and you couldn't help but acknowledge the magnetic allure he commanded.

But there was a sadness etched into those handsome features, an undertone that tugged at your curious nature. Your earlier observation seemed validated by his demeanour—tired and burdened. His reaction to the photograph had been a cryptic puzzle piece that hinted at a story you could only begin to piece together. Silently, you returned to the living room, the space that now felt familiar in its strangeness. As you both settled back down on the couch, Joel offered a comfortable-looking blanket, a gesture that warmed you in more ways than one. "Here, it's cold."

His soft gaze met yours, accompanied by a tentative smile. You felt yourself burned under his gaze, a response to the genuine kindness he radiated. Accepting the blanket, you cocooned yourself within its folds, savouring the moment with this stranger with a larger heart than most of your old friends.

A comfortable silence enveloped the room, your shared presence settling into a serene rhythm as you both sip your coffee. Then, Joel's voice cut through the quiet, breaking the spell. "I put your phone on the charge. I hoped it's okay."

The unexpected statement jolted you slightly, and you responded quickly, "Yeah, it's alright. Thank you so much." Your gratitude was met with silence from Joel.

His hand reached for a bottle of whiskey positioned beside the photograph you had noticed earlier "You mind?" he inquired, and without words, you extended your mug, a silent affirmation that brought a warm laugh from Joel. The sound resonated in the room, carrying a hint of teasing as he added a splash of whiskey to your coffee before topping his own. You found yourself loving the way he sounded when he laughed.

Your lips curved into a wry smile as you voiced the irony that hovered between you. "I know I shouldn't, a girl all alone in a cabin with a strange man who gets drunk on whiskey, its literally the beginning of a horror movie." Your words carried a touch of dry self-awareness. "But at this point, I guess that if you wanted to cut me up and dump me in your backyard, you would've done it already."

Joel's response was immediate, his words laced with dry amusement. "Not really my style. Too messy."

You met his words with a dry look, "That's good to know," the exchange drew the first genuine smile from Joel.

"So, what's your story? Why're ya in the woods in the middle of the night?" Your reaction was a scoff, a playfulness smirk edging on your face.  

"I mean, it's 9 pm. Hardly the middle of the night." However, your attempt to downplay the situation was met with an unimpressed eyebrow raise from Joel. He kept on looking at you, as he sipped his spiced coffee, a silent challenge written in his eyes. You wiggled under his stare feeling bare and open, your most secret parts expose for Joel's eyes to explore.

One part of your brain insisted that you shut up, keep the conversation brief, feign a headache, and retire for the night. However, another part of your mind encouraged you to confide in him, to share the minutiae of pain and heartache that you had carefully concealed since leaving DC. It urged you to unseal the chest you had locked away and pour out its contents – the essence of your soul – at his feet.The thought crossed your mind that Joel likely didn't receive many visitors in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, if any at all.

Leaning into the quiet intimacy of the moment, you found yourself opening up to him, allowing the words to flow from you like the torrential rain falling outside. "Well, I was a project manager back in DC, worked that job for about four years after college," you began. Memories of your time in the office flitted through your mind, remembering the long hours that stretched long into the night and the thankless faces you would see everyday.

You continued, "There had been some layoffs happening, but my boss told me I'd be fine." Your voice carried a tinge of bitterness, a lingering taste of disappointment. "Turns out I wasn't fine. She called me into the office last month, told me to pack my things, and said security would escort me off the premises." The raw frustration in your words was still palpable, "Like I was a fucking criminal!"

The expletive slipped from your lips, your emotions laid bare, you met Joel's gaze but he simply shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Like he was feeling the same emotions as you, like he was angry on your behalf. He then opened his mouth in a low whistle steeped in your shared indignation. "What a bitch," he declared emphatically.

A wry smile touched your lips as you continued, recounting the details of that shitty day that had changed everything for you.  "And that's not all," you added, "So, I'm hysterical, you know? I just lost my job and all." You took a deep breath, "I call my boyfriend, but no answer. I figure he's busy. It's the middle of the day, so I think nothing of it. So, I get to our apartment. I open the door, and there's clothes all over the place, like a goddam hurricane happened. And then, I hear that bastard going at it in the bedroom." A groan escaped you, still pained at what you had found that day.

Joel said nothing but extended the bottle to you, an unspoken gesture. You grabbed the bottle, the whiskey warmed your throat as you took a hearty sip, to settle your nerves and your heart.

All the while, Joel remained silent, his presence a steady anchor, "So yeah, he was screaming, she was screaming, and I was screaming," memory seemed distant, a scene from another life, like you were watching a movie "I was so angry. I could have throttled them." The bitterness was palpable in your words, "But in the end, the apartment was under his name, because I had moved into his place, and we hadn't renewed the lease yet."

So that was it, loss layered upon loss until even the space you had called home was stripped away. "So, he basically told me to pack up my shit and leave. Which mind you, I was more than happy to." you added.

 But then, you got quiet, That night, I found myself in a McDonald's drive-through, and it struck me that within a single day, I had lost my job, my boyfriend, and my apartment," your voice softened as you recollected everything that had gone wrong so quickly. "So, I made the choice to leave DC, to escape the city," you went on, "I suppose I was hoping to discover what direction I truly wanted my life to take."

"And now you're here," Joel supplied.

"And now I am here," you echoed.

Joel's hand reached out, his touch a silent comfort on your arm, skin raising under his touch as if he was setting it on fire. His voice was gentle as he spoke, his empathy evident. "'M sorry 'tis happened to ya sweetheart, it ain't right."

You felt yourself clench at the endearing word, a small timid smile tugged at your lips, "Yeah, that's life though," you replied, "Sometimes it hits you, and there's nothing you can do about it, My mom told me once that it's not about how many times you fall down, it's about how many times you can get back up. And even though all that's happened hurt like hell, I won't let that define who I am."

Joel's gaze bore into you, “You ‘ma seems like a smart woman.”

You smile a bit at his words, “She is, you'd like her. She isn’t the type to appear on people’s porches in the middle of the night.” You joke.

“Thought it was jus’ 9 pm?” Now you let out a loud guffaw, “Joel are you teasing me?” Your only answer was a sign of Joel’s hand motioning toward the bottle that you still held in your hands. You handed it over, watching as he took a hearty sip himself, copying your earlier movement.

"Her name was Sarah," Joel's voice was heavy as he uttered those simple words.

You watched him closely as he gestured towards the photograph with the smiling girl "She was my little girl," his voice trembled. "And I loved her more than anything in the world."

You let him continued at his pace, not wanting to spook the man "Raised her m'self, her mom didn't want nothin' to do with us," his words held a touch of resignation and a whole lot of bitterness. "She was the only light in my life." The pain in his voice was palpable.

His voice faltered, moved by the vulnerability he was showing you, you shifted closer, a gesture of comfort that mirrored the earlier touch he had offered you. Placing your hand on his knee, you offered a gentle squeeze, to reassure him of your presence and understanding.

Joel took a deep breath, "When she 'as just a baby, I was workin' construction, but it didn't pay much," he began, "So in the evenin', I would go to the bar and sing and play guitar. There I met Tess; she loved my sound and soon enough she became my agent. Next thing ya kno', Sarah and I 're in Nashville, and I'm recordin' music full time." you interjected raising your eyebrow with curiosity. "So, the guitar..."

He nodded, his expression softening as he continued. "Yeah, from when I was makin' music. Was a pretty big deal for a while."

"So, I would have heard of you?" you asked, your tone light earning a light scoff from Joel as he shook his head, a rueful smile gracing his lips. "Unless ya into country, I don’t think so."

You offered an apologetic smile, "Can’t say I’ve listened to much.”

His response was warm, reassuring. "It's okay." Joel continued, " Sarah and I did it for a while. The lifestyle. I would make music, tour, but she was always there with me. It was a lot of hours, and she was homeschooled so she could stay with me." His voice wavered, his gaze distant as he spoke, lost in the memories. "But we were happy. For a while anyway."

At his words, you tightened your grip on his knee, "One night, we had a big fight," Joel's voice carried a heavy ton. “Sarah, she was upset. Wanted a normal high school life, friends her age. But I was gearing up for a tour and we’d be on the road for at least six months. She wasn't having it. Said she'd rather stay with my brother, Tommy than go on another tour with me."

"I tried to make her feel better, promised her we’d have fun, that she could meet people her age at the hotels we’d be staying at" he continued, his voice filled with regret. "Told her this tour would be the last, that we'd settle down after that, somewhere quiet in the middle of nowhere.” His breath itched as he struggled to keep his voice steady, “And I promised I'd stop making music. But she didn't want to hear none of it." His voice quivered, "She told me she hated me." You winced at his words.

"I got angry and said things I shouldn't have," Joel's voice cracked, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Called her a brat." He sounded haunted by those words, like he wished he could take them back even after all those years.

His hands covered his face as he let his emotions and his tears flow freely for what seemed like the first time in a long while. Without thinking, you reached out, holding his hands to offer comfort and support as Joel continued, “So, I told one of my tech guys to take her back to the hotel, needed to get focused for the show. Next thing I know, I'm halfway through my set and I get a call. Sarah's in the hospital, the car got smashed by some drunk driver. I bailed the second I heard, but when I got to the hospital, she was already gone. My little girl died alone, and she thought I hated her. The last words I said to her was how much of a brat she was." Seeing him crumble before your eyes was heartbreaking. Tears flowed down his face as he clutched his head in his hands. Instinctively, you reached for him, gripping him firmly, pulling him close to you. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, holding him to convey that he wasn't alone, at least not tonight. "Let it out," your voice was a gentle murmur, encouraging him to release the pain and the sadness that had been locked inside for so long. "You're safe, Joel. It's alright, I'm here.”

And he did let go. Sobs racked his body as his emotions poured out like rain from the storm-clouds outside. You held onto him, providing a safe place for him to pour his grief into. Time seemed to blur as you clung to each other, your touch offering kindness in the face of his pain. Your fingers traced soothing patterns on his back, your whispered words a soothing lullaby, as you tried to ease his sorrow, even if just for this fleeting moment.

After what seemed like an eternity, Joel's sobs began to fade into quiet sniffles, and then, gradually, into the gentle rhythm of sleep. His exhausted body had finally surrendered to the emotional storm he had weathered. You held him tightly, letting him fall asleep in your arms, so he could rest.

Your gaze shifted to the photograph on the table, Sarah's smiling face looking back at you. With a soft tone, you whispered to the sleeping man before you, your words a tender balm to the wounds of his heart. "I might not have known her," your voice barely more than a breath, "but I can see the love between you two. In her eyes, in that smile." Your voice carried a quiet conviction as if you were reassuring both him and her. Leaning in, you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Rest now, Joel. You're not alone."

Unbeknownst to you, as sleep began to claim him, Joel was in that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep. Your words, like a soothing melody, reached him in his half-conscious state. His heart ached at your kindness, the unexpected solace you had brought him. His emotions swirled, a mix of sadness and gratitude, as your presence provided a momentary respite from the perpetual pain. For the first time since Sarah’s death, Joel fell asleep warm and comforted.

The harsh sound of rain pounding on the cabin's roof roused you from your uneasy sleep. Your neck and back protested, bearing the marks of an uncomfortable night spent on the small couch you had shared with Joel. You shifted, trying to find relief from the awkward position you had contorted yourself into. The darkness of the cabin wrapped around you, the only sound apart from the rain was the rhythm of your own breath.

You felt Joel’s absence from beside you, his warmth now gone. He had managed to slip away without disturbing your slumber, a feat that puzzled you considering his imposing presence. The darkness outside the windows hinted at the early hours, perhaps around 2 or 3 in the morning. You peered around the room, but the limited light prevented you from seeing much beyond vague shapes and shadows. The night seemed to have its own weight, as if time itself held its breath in the midst of the storm.

"Are y’awake?" Joel's voice cut through the darkness, startling you into a sudden yelp.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya," his voice held an apologetic note as he stepped into view, a flashlight casting a soft, warm glow around the room. "Lost power sometime in the night, didn't wanna wake ya. Seemed like you needed the rest." He settled at the far end of the couch, a few inches from your feet.

"Joel…" your voice was hushed, a mixture of emotions swirling within you.

"It was ten years last night," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of years of grief. "Ten years ssince my babygirl died." His words hung in the air, heavy and poignant.

"I've always felt so alone," his voice trembled, "like there was no way out, like I was as good as gone. For so long, I've told myself that I should've been the one to go instead of her." His words struck a deep chord, and tears welled in your eyes.

"Still think I should've, it ain't right for kids to die before their folks" he whispered angrily, the pain evident in his voice. "But Sarah… she was like an angel, always takin’ care of me. And on the night when I'm considerin’ takin’ that shotgun and finally goin’ to see her… you show up." His gaze met yours, his expression confused. You saw pain, sadness, anger but there was tenderness and hope etched deep wihtin in his eyes. Joel ran a hand through his hair frantically.

"It's like my Sarah is still lookin’ out for me," he continued, "Like she knew what I was plannin’, and she sent me another angel to be with me."

A warmth spread within you, blooming deep inside of you at his words. With a slow motion, you pushed the covers aside, the cold air prickling your skin as you cautiously maneuvered over the short expanse of the couch until you were close to Joel. The room was dimly illuminated by the soft golden glow of the flashlight, casting shadows that danced around you both.

In the velvety cocoon of the hushed darkness, an unspoken desire bloomed between you. You moved with a subtle grace, straddling his wide hips, your gazes locking in the dim, intimate light. The air seemed to crackle with a newfound tension as you whispered his name, a gentle invitation laden with longing.

Joel's hands moved instinctively to your hips, his touch both gentle and possessive, grounding you in him. "Yes, my angel?" his voice held a soft edge of anticipation, a promise hanging in the air.

****You leaned in, your lips finding his in a dance that transcended words. The kiss was a slow, intoxicating melding of souls, a harmony of sensations and emotions that seemed to surge through every nerve in your bodies. Joel's lips were warm and inviting, their touch conveying a mix of urgency and tenderness that ignited a spark within you.

Your fingers cradled the back of his head, tangling in the strands of his hair as you deepened the kiss. A low, throaty moan escaped him as he yielded to the sensation, his response igniting a fire of desire within you. The taste of his lips, the press of his body against yours, it all felt like a perfect symphony of your two body.

As the kiss broke, Joel's whispered words mingled with the soft hum of the storm outside. "Are you sure?" he asked a thread of concern woven into his tone.

A smile touched your lips, a mix of assurance and desire. "Never been surer in my life, cowboy."

His smile in response was like a sunrise, warmth and light flooding the room. Rising from the couch, he held you in his strong arms, your laughter echoing as he started to ascend the stairs with you in his embrace. The world outside was forgotten, eclipsed by this moment. Eclipsed by Joel holding you close.

As you reached what you assumed was Joel's bedroom, a surge of anticipation and desire compelled you to draw him into another fervent kiss. The soft laughter that escaped him was a melody that danced against your lips, and you responded with a mixture of eagerness and playfulness.

Joel's touch was both electrifying and gentle, he swatted your bottom teasingly, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips, "Patience, angel."

His words sent shivers down your spine, mingling with the electric tension that enveloped you both. The room seemed to shrink around you as desire flared, intertwining your fates in a web of longing and need. With a mixture of restraint and yearning, you allowed the dance between you to continue, each moment a step closer to surrendering to the consuming passion that had ignited between you.

With a gentleness that belied his strength, Joel guided you onto the large bed. Your senses were alight, every detail heightened as if the world had shifted into sharper focus. The bedding beneath you cradled your form, its softness embracing you like a lover's touch. The air around you carried a faint chill, a stark contrast to the heat that seemed to radiate from the space between you and Joel.

But it was his gaze that held you captive, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that set your heart racing. In his gaze, you saw a constellation of emotions, desire mingling with a hint of vulnerability, each flicker a testament to the depth of connection you shared. Time seemed to slow, the storm outside merely a distant echo as you were immersed in this moment, this charged space where nothing else mattered except the unspoken language of longing that passed between you. The room felt small, a universe confined to the expanse of the bed where you lay,

 And the dance began—a sensual rhythm that both of you instinctively understood. Joel's hands, firm and determined, reached for the fabric of your shirt, his fingers curling around the material before he tugged it away from your body. The garment was discarded to the side of the room, forgotten. A smirk graced his lips, his eyes alight with a mixture of desire and amusement.

"That was an old shirt from my '01 tour in California," he confessed playfully. "Seeing you wear something of mine stirs up all sorts of feelings, angel."

A breathless laugh escaped you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining in the sound. Joel's mouth descended with practiced skill, capturing your right nipple in a delicate play of sensations. His lips and tongue orchestrated a dance, alternating between gentle kisses and teasing tugs, coaxing your body to respond. Your nipple responded to his attentions, standing taut against the flicker of his tongue. His warm breath brushed against your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, a stark contrast to the cool air that surrounded you.

The torturous symphony of sensations migrated to your other nipple, the alternating rhythm of pleasure and tease sending shockwaves of need radiating from your core. Unable to contain your yearning, you whispered a plea, your voice a hushed prayer. "Please, Joel..."

His response was a gentle murmur, a tantalizing question. "Tell me what you want, angel."

A rush of arousal and aching need surged through you, and you implored him with a breathless urgency, your words carrying a plea for more. "More, please..."

Amusement danced in his eyes as he pushed you further, his own desire and anticipation evident in the way he held you, in the way he looked at you. "You're gonna have to be more precise than that, angel," he coaxed, his voice a seductive melody that echoed between you.

You suddenly grabbed Joel’s head and directed him towards your aching core, “Touch me here please Joel, I can't.”

“Whatever my angel desires.” And he bends his head down wrenching a scream of delight from your lips as he started lapping at your core with enthusiastic desire. You had never felt anything like this before, previous lovers have always been less than enthusiastic at performing this particular act, but it seemed like Joel reveled in making you squirm and he was trying his best to elicit as many breathless moans from you. And you were more than happy to oblige him. He started alternating between lapping at your clit teasingly and rubbing his fingers alongside your slit, all the while murmuring cooing words into your core “my beautiful angels, you are so good to me.”

With a surge of boldness, your hand darted out to grasp Joel's head, your fingers threading through his hair as you guided him to the source of your aching desire. A plea tumbled from your lips, raw and unrestrained, "Touch me here, please, Joel. I can't wait any longer."

A playful smirk danced across his lips, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of fulfilling your desires. "Whatever my angel desires," he responded, his voice a seductive promise. Bending his head with deliberate intent, he set forth on a way that was sure to send you in  a primal surge of ecstasy.

A passionate cry of delight erupted from your lips as Joel's skilled tongue found its mark, dancing across your sensitive core with an enthusiasm that set your senses ablaze. This was an experience like no other, a stark departure from previous lovers where enthusiasm had been scarce. With Joel, it was different—he revelled in your pleasure, his fervent devotion evident in every movement.

His lips and tongue worked in tandem, alternating between tender lapping and teasingly rhythmic motions that sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers joined in the sensual symphony, tracing delicate patterns alongside your slick folds, igniting fires of sensation wherever they ventured.

Amidst the heady sensations, Joel's voice reached your ears, a sweet and enticing serenade that whispered cooing words directly to your core. "My beautiful angel, you are so good to me," he murmured, his words like molten honey, dripping with adoration and lust.

Your moans and gasps crescendoed into a symphony of pleasure, each sounds a testament to the waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. As if guided by the melody of your desire, Joel responded with a calculated touch, slipping a finger inside you. A powerful scream of pleasure erupted from your lips, the sensation of his digit plunging deep within you electrifying your senses and igniting a fierce yearning.

"Oh my God, Joel, please!" Your words tumbled out in a jumble of incoherence, driven by an insatiable need that clouded your thoughts. The urgency in your voice spoke volumes, even if the words themselves were fragmented. You needed more, you craved more, but your mind was too consumed by the sensations to formulate coherent sentences.

Joel pressed on with his skilled ministrations. He gauged your need, asking, "You want more? You think you can take one more?" Your head bobbed in a fervent affirmation, your eyes filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation. Without hesitation, he introduced a second finger, and your body reacted with a surge of pleasure mixed with a hint of discomfort—a delicious sensation that heightened your desire.

Closing your eyes to savor the pleasure coursing through you, you felt Joel's fingers expertly moving within you. The sensation of them crossing and spreading you wide sent intoxicating shivers down your spine, a tantalizing preview of what was to come. His mouth remained devoted to your neglected clit, lavishing it with attentions that drove you wild.

"I've got to prepare you real good, angel," Joel breathed, his voice husky with need. "You've got to be spread wide to take all of me. I ain't like one of those DC boys you’re used to." His words, a potent mix of promise and possession, sent a thrill through you. "Yes, yes, yes, Joel," you pleaded, your voice aching with desire. "Spread me, make me ready for you."

A knowing smirk curved Joel's lips as he introduced a third finger, a hint of pain deliciously mingling with the intense pleasure, intensifying the sensations that rocked your body. "So good, angel," he moaned breathlessly. “Joel, I’m gonna…” “Yes, come for me, angel. Please come for me right now!" His encouragement was all it took, and you shattered into euphoria like never before. Explosions of white dusted your vision as you felt yourself gush around Joel’s fingers, which continued their relentless rhythm inside you. Your body tensed and then went limp, as if weightless.

When you opened your eyes again, Joel's gaze met yours. He was lapping at his fingers with an obscenely indulgent expression, making your body tingle with renewed desire. "You taste delicious, like the sweetest honey," he purred. A groan of need escaped your lips as you reached for him, your hands eager to explore. "Please, Joel."

"Do you want me, Angel? Do you want me to take care of you?" he asked, his voice a seductive blend of desire and tenderness. You nodded, and as Joel started to take off his shirt he suddenly stopped in his track “Fuck, I don’t have condoms.” He brought his hands to his face in a movement of frustration.

 A soft smile graced your lips as you moved closer to him, your face now level with his taunt stomach. With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss against his skin, just above his waistband.

"If you trust me, Joel," you began softly, “I got tested after I found out Bryan was cheating, and everything came back clear." Your words hung between the two of you as Joel realized what you were offering.

Joel's reaction was swift and intense. His hand gripped your jaw firmly, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness. "Don’t say that piece of shit's name when you're in my bed, angel," he growled, his voice laced with a raw edge. The shiver that ran down your spine was both a thrill and a reminder of his complex emotions.

"Come here," Joel commanded his voice a blend of authority and strength. Eager to comply, you shifted closer to him, a fire of anticipation burning in your veins. Slowly, Joel started to guide you back down onto the bed, his hands moving with a purpose that matched the intensity of his desire.

"I want to look at your face when you come on my cock," he murmured, his words sending a shiver of longing down your spine. Anticipation pooled in the pit of your stomach as you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

With deliberate movements, Joel began to undo his jeans, freeing his long and thick cock from its confines. The sight of him left you audibly gulping, a mixture of want and anticipation coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but wonder about the sensations, the weight, the pleasure that his size would bring.

"Can I put it in my mouth?" you asked, your eagerness apparent in your voice. Joel chuckled, his laughter a low and intimate sound that sent another wave of desire crashing over you. "Not tonight, angel," he responded, his tone both playful and commanding. "Tonight, I want to come in your pretty little pussy."

Joel's hands and lips explored your body with a relentless hunger, each touch igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Lost in the dance of passion, you found yourself swept away in a symphony of sensations, the symphony building to a crescendo of ecstasy that left you breathless and yearning for more.

In one swift, delicious motion, you felt Joel's firm length slip inside you. The sensation was both intense and electrifying, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and let out a loud moan of pleasure as he stretched you open in the most pleasurable way.

"Oh shit, angel, you're so damn tight," Joel groaned, his voice laced with desire and amazement at the sensation. You couldn't hold back your response, your own voice a mixture of bliss and disbelief. "Oh my god, Joel, that's because you're so fucking big!"

With deliberate slowness, Joel began to move his hips, creating a rhythm that was both torturously slow and exquisitely pleasurable. His gaze remained fixed on your face, his eyes locking onto yours with a passionate intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The intimacy of the moment, the raw connection between your bodies, fueled the flames of desire that burned between you.

"Please, Joel, you have to move faster, please, I'm begging you," you implored.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Joel's lips as he teased, "If I go faster, you're gonna make this old man come way too quick, angel."

"I don't care," you gasped, your need overpowering any sense of patience, "you have to move, please!"

"As you wish," Joel responded with a sly grin, and in the blink of an eye, the slow and deliberate rhythm transformed into a furious, unrelenting pace. His hips met yours fiercely, each movement driving you to the edge of your senses. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest like a wild drumbeat, and for this moment, nothing else mattered except the intense connection between you and Joel. The world outside faded away as you were consumed by the sensations of pleasure and desire, lost in the intoxicating dance of your bodies moving as one.

The tight coil of tension within you wound tighter and tighter with each fervent movement, aching to be released. The desperate need for release surged through your veins until you couldn't hold it any longer.

"OH MY GOD, JOEL, I'M GONNA COME AGAIN!" you cried out, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and urgency.

"Fuck, me too, angel, I'm gonna cum," Joel groaned, his voice heavy with need. "Please, you have to come with me, please, Angel!"

"Oohh my goddd, I'm cum..." Your sentence was left unfinished as the intense wave of pleasure crashed over you, shattering the tight coil and setting your senses on fire. Simultaneously, Joel's hips stuttered against yours, and you felt the warmth of his release inside you.

"Fuckkk," Joel whispered against your throat, his breath hot and ragged, as both of you rode out the waves of bliss, your sweaty bodies entwined and sated.

"That was..." you began, your voice trailing off as you searched for words to capture the intensity of what you had just shared.

"It sure was," Joel finished, his voice carrying a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. ****

You let out a hearty laugh, the tension of the moment dissolving into light giggles, as Joel momentarily left the room. While you lay there, still basking in the aftermath of your pleasure, he returned with a warm towel and a glass of water. He handed you the glass, and then, with gentle care, he began to clean you up. Your body was still sensitive from the climax, and you instinctively squirmed under his touch, but Joel held you in place.

"None of that, angel," he chided softly, his eyes warm and reassuring. "Gotta make sure you're all cleaned up. Lemme take care of ya."

His words and the softness of his touch melted away any remaining tension, and you found yourself yielding to his gentle care. You let go, allowing him to attend to you in this tender and intimate way. Once he was finished, he guided you back onto the bed and gathered you into his broad arms. A smile played on his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss against the nape of your neck. You closed your eyes, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you.

"Sleep now, my angel," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "We'll talk in the morning."

With his strong arms wrapped around you, you nestled into his embrace, finding comfort and warmth in his presence. Your eyes closed naturally, the weight of the day's events and the embrace of his body lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The morning greeted you with the cheerful chirping of birds, their song gently coaxing you awake. Blinking your eyes open, you realized Joel's form wasn't beside you in the bed. You reached for his discarded shirt on the floor, wrapping it around yourself before quietly slipping out of the room. As you stood before the bathroom mirror, your reflection showed the aftermath of a passionate night: tousled hair, eyes still bearing traces of desire, and lips that bore the marks of fervent kisses. A satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed the toothpaste, relishing the refreshing feeling as you brushed your teeth.

After tidying up a bit, you descended the stairs, your senses greeted by the delicious scent of cooking. Following the aroma, you entered the cozy kitchen where a rustic-looking pan held sizzling bacon and eggs. The scene was comforting, but there was no sign of Joel. As you scanned the room, the soft strains of a melody drifted in from outside, drawing your attention.

Curious, you made your way toward the source of the music, stepping outside to find Joel sitting on the porch swing. He held the acoustic guitar you had spied last night on the wall, his fingers moving deftly across the strings to produce a gentle tune that seemed to blend harmoniously with the morning breeze. You leaned against the railing beside him, listening intently to the music.

Joel paused his melody and turned his gaze toward you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "That was beautiful," you offered gently, "What were you playing?"

Joel's smile widened as he motioned for you to join him. "You inspired me last night," he confessed. "I had these melodies in my head, and I just had to play them." Your lips curved into a smile as you leaned in for a kiss. "That's unexpectedly romantic," you teased, causing Joel to chuckle. "Romantic, huh? Never been accused of that before," he playfully responded. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Starving," you replied, a rumble of hunger confirming your words.

Joel's laughter filled the air as he gently set the guitar aside and guided you back indoors. He motioned for you to take a seat at the spacious wooden table, his warm smile inviting. He playfully swatted your hands away as you attempted to help, his touch grounding and reassuring. "Let me serve you, angel," Joel whispered softly as he settled you into a chair.

As Joel expertly portioned out the eggs onto your plate, you admired the beautiful table before you. "This table is stunning," you remarked, inspecting the grain of the hard oaken wood "I've always dreamed of having a big wooden table. Somewhere to have all my family and friends and have big dinners." Joel's smile held a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, me too. That's why I built it."

"Wait, you built this?" you exclaimed, surprised. "Is there anything you can't do?" His laughter was infectious, and he shook his head playfully. “Just eat ya eggs." You smile happily in response before digging in.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you happily munched on your meal. "This is really good, thank you, Joel," you said with genuine gratitude. Joel's smile was warm, yet his gaze seemed to drift elsewhere, lost in thought. You observed him from the corner of your eye, curious about what was going on in his mind.

After a moment, Joel pushed his half-eaten plate of eggs aside and made his way over to you. Without a word, he grasped the back of your chair and turned it toward him, causing you to let out a surprised "Joel!" as you were suddenly lifted from the chair. He settled down, pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

You chuckled softly, noting, "Breakfast's gonna get cold..." But Joel's response was immediate, his voice a whisper against your collarbone, "I don't care. Need to be close to ya, angel." You felt yourself melting into his embrace, content and cherished.

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of being enveloped by Joel's arms. Inhaling his masculine scent deeply, you wanted to imprint it in your memory, wanting to hold onto every detail of this moment. You never wanted to forget the way he made you feel. As Joel's hand gently traced patterns on your back, his lips pressed soft, feathery kisses along your neck, causing a contented sigh to escape your lips.

In that instant, you realized that in just one day, Joel had managed to make you feel safer and happier than your four-year relationship with Bryan ever did. "Joel," you timidly began, your voice a fragile thread. "Hmmm, what is it, angel?" Joel's response was gentle, encouraging you to continue. "About what you told me last night… About Sarah…" His sigh against your neck was heavy, and you gathered your courage for what you wanted to say next. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened to her. It wasn't fair."

"Angel…" You guided Joel's face up from its hiding place in your bosom, holding it between your hands to meet his eyes. "Sarah loved you, Joel. And she knew you loved her. She wouldn't want to see her father suffer alone like this."

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration and protectiveness. "Angel, please stop." But you couldn't hold back; not after last night, not after seeing him this morning with the guitar, not after he pried open and emptied the chest of feelings that you had buried deep in your heart. "Joel, I don't want to argue. I know we've only just met, but I can see the kind of person you are. And I might not know a lot about you, but I know that you don't deserve to keep punishing yourself. You deserve to be happy."

Your fingers brushed against his face tenderly as your eyes glistened with tears, your plea carrying all the sincerity you could muster. However, Joel only gently lifted you from his lap and set you down on the chair. He turned to walk away from the kitchen, but before leaving the doorway, he paused. "Finish your eggs, and when you're done, it might be best if you leave." His words were heavy and definitive.

The atmosphere grew icy as your eyes welled up with tears. "Better for you, you mean," you muttered bitterly, pushing the plate of eggs aside and standing up. "I'll get out of your way right now, Joel. I'm sorry for overstaying my welcome." Without waiting for a response, you swiftly moved past him, your heart aching as the tears streamed down your face, not wanting him to see how vulnerable you felt. How much his words had hurt you deep within your bones. Not even your ex-boyfriend cheating had hurt as much as Joel’s words.

Hastily, you ascended the stairs, feeling a mixture of confusion, hurt, and urgency. Joel's shirt clung to your skin as you moved, a reminder of the passionate night you had shared. With hurried hands, you peeled the shirt off, folding it and placing it on the bed with a mix of sadness and longing. Slipping into your clothes, you realised how they were dry and carried a faint, comforting clean scent. It dawned on you that Joel must have taken the time to wash and dry them while you were still asleep. The small act of care spoke volumes, tugging at your heartstrings even harder as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

A soft sob escaped your lips as you quickly pulled on your leggings and t-shirt. The pain within you intensified, a heavy weight on your chest that made it hard to breathe. Your fingers trembled as you fumbled to button up your shirt, your mind racing with a mix of regret and confusion. Every touch, every moment, seemed to replay in your mind like a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't make sense of. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and the room felt stifling as you imagined Joel's hands, his lips, all over you.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity, the need to escape growing more urgent by the second. You couldn't bear the idea of staying in this place any longer, not when your heart and mind were in such turmoil. Your head spun as you gathered your belongings, your thoughts a jumble of conflicting feelings. With shaky hands, you grabbed your bag and moved toward the bedroom door, your heart racing and your vision blurred by unshed tears. It was as if the walls themselves were closing in on you, suffocating you with memories and emotions that you couldn't yet fully process.

You quickly made your way down the stairs and you quickly reached the entrance of the cabin, your hand gripped the doorknob, the exit just a twist away. But then, like a lifeline thrown to your drowning form, Joel's voice cut through the tension-laden air. "Wait," he implored. For a moment, you could have pulled the door open and walked away, sparing yourself the pain that seemed inevitable. But something in his voice, something in the way he had said it, made you hesitate, your fingers tensing on the handle.

"Please wait," Joel's voice, gentle and soft, reached your ears, halting your movement. His words were like a fragile confession, tinged with regret and vulnerability. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just... it still hurts so much, and I can’t do anything about it. I don't even know if I wanna do anythin' 'bout it! If I stop hurtin, it ain't fair to her, it's like 'm forgettin' her. My babygirl. I can't... I can't be the man you need me to be. You're young, and you'll find something much better than a washed-up singer, a father that’s always gonna be haunted by the ghost of his daughter. I'm carrying too much baggage, And I ain’t  worth the pain I know I’ll cause ya angel.” Frozen in place, you listened to his words, his admission of hurt and fear, his belief in his own unworthiness all washed over you, leaving you empty and oh so sad for the man in front of you.

With your back still turned toward him, your grip on the doorknob loosened. You could feel your heart aching for him. You closed your eyes, attempting to blink away the tears that threatened to fall, your breathing ragged and unsteady.

You took a steadying breath, turning slightly toward him, though you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. In a voice that was stronger than you felt, you spoke your truth "Joel, it's not about what baggage you have or don’t have. It's everything that’s happened since yesterday, how we make each other feel. And last night... it meant something to me. I don't need you to be something you're not. I just want you to be who you are, because that person is worth something to me."

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. "I can't pretend to understand everything you've been through, Joel. But I can see the person you are, the one who's been through pain but is still standing here. You deserve happiness too, Joel. You're not defined by your past, and you're not just a has-been singer or whatever it is you impose on yourself. You're Joel, and you're worth more than you realize."

A tear escaped your closed eyes, tracing a path down your cheek. With a determined step forward, you pulled the door open, your voice steady despite the vulnerability you felt. "Take care of yourself, Joel," you whispered. With that, you stepped out onto the threshold, the cool breeze against your skin offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin. The door clicked shut behind you, a gentle sound that marked the end of a moment that had touched your heart so deeply. And as you walked away, you didn't look back, hoping that Joel's own journey would guide him to a place of healing and acceptance.

Three months had drifted by since the night when Joel's presence swept into your life, like a gentle breeze altering the course of a quiet stream. The echo of his words still lingered in your mind, painting the canvas of your memories with vivid strokes of vulnerability and tenderness. As you slid into the cocoon of your car that night, the world outside felt different, as if reality itself had taken on a new hue.

Driving away from the cabin nestled in the heart of the woods, you found your plans melting away, leaving behind a blank slate that you were now eager to fill with Joel's presence. But you knew he had his own journey to embark upon – a journey toward reconciliation with his past, a voyage of healing that no one else could undertake for him. You couldn't help but hope, perhaps even naively, that the currents of life would someday guide him back to you. It was an uncertain prospect, but then again, your whole life had become a cascade of the unexpected.

After first leaving behind the familiar landscape of DC, and wandering the country for some time, you found yourself meandering down unfamiliar roads that led you to the vibrant city of Austin. Amid the soulful melodies and friendly faces, you decided to step into a music store, compelled by the yearning to connect with Joel on some level, even if he wasn’t physically there with you.

Inside, the air was stuffy as if the shop had been forgotten by the residents of Austin. Rows of albums beckoned to you, as you look around for the country section. Descriptions were exchanged with a middle-aged cashier, who turned out to be a rather passionate fan of Joel and who guided you to the shelves where most of Joel Miller's discography was. For you, it was like hearing the life of the man you think you might very well love. As you left the store, the weight of those albums in your arms was more than just a collection; it was a tangible piece of the bond you shared with a stranger who had become so much more.

With Joel's music filling the airwaves of your trusty Honda Civic, you embarked on the next leg of your journey, leaving Austin behind and setting your sights on the vibrant landscape of Los Angeles. The roads stretched out before you, winding through varied terrains like the unwritten chapters of a story waiting to unfold. Each curve and bend felt like a step toward a new beginning, guided by the soulful tunes that had become the backdrop of your life.

As you navigated LA's bustling streets, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The sprawling landscapes seemed to mirror the vast possibilities that awaited you in this city of dreams. The skyline glittered with promise, like a tapestry woven from the aspirations of countless dreamers who had walked these streets before you. With each passing mile, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the energy of the city, ready to embrace whatever adventures lay ahead.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, you found your place in a small yet energetic communication company. It was a far cry from the monotonous work you had left behind in DC. Here, you were tasked with crafting communication campaigns for non-profit organizations across California. The challenges were real and the work was hard, but the rewards were immeasurable. Your days were now filled with purpose and creativity, and you felt a genuine connection to the causes you were championing. It was as if you had finally found the missing piece that had been absent from your previous life. Like you had found your drive back.

2 months into the job, your coworker Amanda's loud shrilly voice pulled your attention away from your work, her words cutting through the office buzz. "Hey, you're the one who's into Country music, right?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. You chuckled softly, not exactly an expert on the genre but you supposed you did listen to more Country then you used to these days.

"Yep, that's me," you replied, offering a small nod.

Amanda leaned in a little closer, her voice lowered as if sharing a secret, "I've noticed you play Joel Miller's older albums. Is he your favourite or something?"

You smiled softly, realizing your tradition hadn't gone unnoticed. "Yeah, I have a soft spot for his music," you admitted with a shrug.

Her grin turned into a mischievous smile, "Well, guess what? He just dropped a new song. Have you heard?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "A new song?!" you echoed, genuine surprise lacing your words, heartbeat treatening to send you into a heart attack.

Amanda pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen before she handed it to you. The screen was illuminated by what you deciphered as some tweets and posts, all buzzing with excitement about Joel's latest EP release. Your eyes widened as you scrolled through the tweets, feeling a mixture of excitement washed over you.

With a grin, you glance at Amanda, appreciating her tip, before returning to your workstation. Settling in, you tried your best to steady your breath as you open the article on TMZ and locate the link that directs you to Joel Miller's freshly released track on his SoundCloud. Your cursor hovers over the link, anticipation rising making you feel buzzed. Clicking the link, you're instantly engulfed in a cascade of harmonies. The initial notes carried on the wings of a soft guitar, weave a delicate tapestry of sound that threads its way through your senses. It's like stepping into a forgotten memory, the strums of the guitar bringing you back inside the cabin and into Joel’s arms.

And then, Joel's voice joins the strumming of the guitar. A tender baritone, it carries the weight of longing and sadness, each note reverberating with the depth of his life. The rawness of it tugs at your heartstrings, and you can’t help the tears forming in your eyes. With each note, it's as though Joel is speaking directly to you, his presence palpable despite the distance. You close your eyes, allowing the music to sweep you away, the gentle strumming and resonant vocals painting a vivid scene in your mind;

I can’t stop thinking about you

I can't escape your memory's grasp,

My angel, you're etched within my soul so fast.

I yearn to become the man you envision,

Unveiling depths within, a heartfelt mission.

For you, for you alone,

This version of me, yet to be known.

As the soothing timbre of Joel's voice envelops you, he navigates the tapestry of emotions with his lyrics. His soft voice carries the weight of promises and aspirations, mingling with the bittersweet tinge of guilt and the fervent pull of desire. It's a symphony of feelings entwined in each note, a raw portrayal of the battles raging within him. He sings of uncertainty, a man grappling with the enigma of his own identity. Yet, amidst the chaos, there's a constant, an unwavering North Star – the presence of his angel. The lyrics paint a portrait of yearning and unspoken desires, his admission that even amid the turmoil, your memory is an anchor he can't escape. His voice, like a gentle hand, guides you through the labyrinth of his feelings, allowing you to glimpse the depths of his soul. And as the final note fades, it's as if his heart has been laid bare, an intimate portrait of a man searching for solace and finding it in the memory of his angel – you.

Tears gather in your eyes as the song reaches its poignant conclusion. Joel's heartfelt words resonate with the depths of your emotions, and the floodgates of your own feelings burst open. Each note, each lyric, is a testament to his pain, his struggles, and the love that has bloomed during the short encounter you had.

As the music fades, your tears flow freely, a river for the man who has touched your heart so profoundly. You could feel your coworkers casting puzzled glances your way, but in this moment, their opinions mean nothing. You wept for the unfairness of his life, you wept for the loss of his little Sarah, and you wept for the years he's spent punishing himself. You weep because you love Joel Miller. Your heart aches for the man who entered your life on that stormy night and left a mark deep within your soul. Etching his name into the very essence of your being.

Your mom had always said, "The future holds its secrets close" and now you couldn't help but agree. A year ago, you would have never imagined that you would find yourself in LA, away from old friends and family. Yet you couldn't remember a time when you had been more content. Except maybe when you had been in Joel's arms in the warmth of his cabin. But now, as you restart the song Joel had written and as you lose yourself in the warm timber of his voice, you feel happy. Joel's baritone promising that he would love his angel as best as the damaged man he was could love. As you let yourself be carried by the softness of his voice, you know that whatever happens, you'll never part ways with Joel again. You know that wherever he is, he will find you, and you’ll be able to take him in your arms and hold him close to you.

You smile; after all, Joel had just delcared his love for you to the world, his declaration intended for all to hear. And as Joel's voice serenaded you with vows of love and protection, soothing you to your core, you made a promise of your own to Sarah. You promised her that you would care for her father, that you'd stand by him and that you would love him until their eventual reunion, following what you hope would be a beautiful life richly lived.

[namjoonscoffeeshop]

Dear Namjoon | 12

✧ Pairing: kim namjoon x reader ✧ warning(s): explicit language, suggestive content, mature content ✧ genre: angst,fluff,smut,slow burn ✧ synopsis; You're sent to live with your father and older brother. only that your older brother is in a band called BTS. you meet jimin's friends and automatically get tangled with one of his band members. you're relationship has to be kept a secret but for how long can you keep it that way?

prev | index | next

Once you arrived at school, you saw that the rooftop was empty. You couldn't even find jimin. No one was answering your calls. So you went to the only people who basically knew everything about them.

Their fans.

since my brother and his friends were the pride and joy of the school, they allowed the fans to have a club room. along with allowing the whole letter exchange situation.

entering the classroom, i find boys and girls all together looking at their phones. walking up to the crowd of clearly very excited people I see the girl who always hands me the envelopes the period before lunch.

"Oh my god y/n" she screams and everyone turns to look at me. they all begin to walk towards me and are jumping as they scream

"w-what?" startled by the sudden mob

"you don't know? Your brother and the rest of the members signed under Big Hit Entertainment!" handing no more like forcing her phone into my hand I look at the article.

HEADLINES:

"THE NEW BEST THING: BIG HIT SIGNS 'BTS' "

Bang PD stated in the interview that he was astonished by the enthusiasm and surge of talent he witnessed during one of the their performances in XXX Club in last weeks show. The seven prodigies call themselves BTS, their leader is Kim Namjoon. Bang PD says that there is much potential in BTS. Probably debuting won't be a problem?

My jaw was touching the ground, Jimin got signed up?! I screamed on the top of my lungs as the excitement their fans were feeling was rubbing on me.

"if we write them their letters can you please give it to them?" the girl grabs on to your arm with pleading eyes, nodding at their request. they all rush to the desks grabbing envelopes and writing on the cards.

taking out your phone you text jimin, letting him know how proud you were. Opening namjoon's message something stops you before you begin to type. For some reason, jungkook's words played in your head. since trainee's sometimes aren't allowed to date, is your relationship with namjoon gonna cause a problem?

closing the chat, you walk to the table of girls as they begin to fill up a box with cards. "but how come they aren't here" I ask the fan club leader.

"they got a call and all left early" she smiles, putting another letter in the box.

after a long time of waiting you are standing in front of your locker with a huge box in your hands. jimin texted you to go home after school and didn't answer any message after that.

as for namjoon, you couldn't get in contact with him at all. It makes sense that he wouldn't be able to answer but you were kinda sad about it as well.

once you got home you took the box to your room, leaving it on the desk. the girls had given you, the same envelopes as always so you could write them letters too.

sitting at the desk, you stare at the empty cards. but for some reason. You couldn't bring yourself to write anything to none of them, not even namjoon.

The moment I heard my dad yell from downstairs that jimin was home, i jumped off the bed and ran downstairs screaming his name. as he entered the door I jumped into his arms

"look at you! i knew you could do it" hugging me tightly he whispers a thanks, jimin was nervous to be cut from the group or to not be taken all together. finally I pay attention to all the other boys entering through the front door, and my eyes wander to namjoon who was also looking at me. jimin puts me down, and pats my head.

as jimin walks to the living room I feel someones stare behind me, turning around I make eye contact with jungkook who looked displeased with me. Ignoring his stares I ended up talking to yoongi.

I was sitting on the floor in front of jimin as I listened to namjoon explain to my dad and me what happened at the meeting.

dad wasn't really happy with the whole idol idea but he was supporting jimin through it all. did he get lectured for playing at the club, yes he did. But he wasn't harsh on him since all the other guys were here too.

namjoon mentioned something about a letter, and it reminded me about the fan mail.

"oh right, you're fans heard about what happened and they wrote you guys letters today too. they asked me to hand them to you" getting up from the floor you walk upstairs to get the box of letters.

entering your room you grab the box, heading downstairs with the box in your hand.

hoseok was excited to see the letters. opening the box you see that they were all organized with rubber bands so you walked around handing everyone their pile of letters. once you got to jungkook, you didn't even look at him. namjoon slightly touched your hand as you handed the pile of letters to him, but you didn't react. you didn't want anyone else to find out about the two of you. you already had enough with jungkook.

they all went through their letters, and right after namjoon finished his pile he looked up at you confused. well why wouldn't he be, there was no letter from you.

this time you ignored his stares.

they ordered food after dad went to his office, wanting to give them space you went to your room. locking the door, you didn't want namjoon to walk in and cause someone else to find out. grabbing your phone you text namjoon telling him not to come upstairs into your room.

namjoon's phone rings in his pocket and he looks at it real quick, and discreetly. and as if you had read his mind, telling him not to come up when he was planning to get away right now. He was confused of why you were acting like that.

first no letter, now you tell him not to come up to your room.

putting his phone down, he tries to get back to the conversation. trying to find a good time to ask jimin if there was something wrong with you he waits a bit more.

"look at this letter" jin shows yoongi, and yoongi looks at him with a rested face "you've shown me the same letter over five times already" he says as he pushes the card away from his face. making jin pout.

"jimin, what's up with your sister?" namjoon asked nonchalantly he takes a sip from his drink.

"Nothing? why you ask?" jimin was confused as to why namjoon asked, he thought you were fine.

"oh i don't know, she left to her room right away. and she wasn't as talkative as before" he shrugs

jimin sighs "she acts like a child sometimes" but what he really wanted to say is that your an emotional mess when your period comes.

"that child could beat your ass if she head you say that" yoongi says, jin then says he'll bet five dollars that jimin would beat y/n's ass. everyone then continued to talk about it, while namjoon sat there uncomfortable.

he wondered if you were mad about him not answering you all day, but as the leader he had a lot to do compared to the rest. he stared at his phone, look at the messages between the both of you. wondering if he should just ask you whats wrong.

the idea of you ignoring him or avoiding him annoyed him. instead of messaging you he decided to leave you on seen. letting his ego take over, he wanted you to message him first.

what he didn't know was that you had already fallen asleep, and by not messaging you and by you not explaining why he couldn't come to your room. there is now a misunderstanding from his side.

once you woke up, you looked at your phone. expecting namjoon to have texted you but he didn't. not thinking much about it you got ready for school.

jimin now rides with you in your car, something about the company saying they should avoid riding their bikes due to the possibility of injuries or it just being dangerous in general.

you slept in the car as jimin drove to school.

you had to return the box to the club room. after saying goodbye to jimin you headed there.

"here's the box" you smile, handing it over to the leader.

"thank you for giving them the letters" she smiles.

bowing your head, you begin to walk towards the door, "wait...can i ask you something" stopping to her voice you turn to look at her

"uh..sure?" you sit down and she sits in front of you

"i don't know if you get questions like this everyday....but could you maybe get jimin to give you an autograph...for me?"

I was lost at words, I didn't know what to say. Jimin said their company told them something about giving autographs or taking photos with people. but you were too busy staring at namjoon's face that you don't remember.

"uh..sorry, but I don't really like um..asking my brother for things like that" your lips go into a thin line. trying to predict how she'll react.

"that's selfish"

"excuse me?" your eyes widen at her quick change of attitude. she scoffed and crossed her arms "i'm just asking for an autograph not his number or anything else"

"right...and I said no" you speak up at the same tone.

"hey, i gathered the letters." another girl walks in with the box that's always placed in the hallway. "do you think we should read the letters?"

"read the letters?" you ask confused, but anxious because you write...interesting letters to namjoon.

"we found out haters are writing letters to them too now. good thing we noticed someone who only badmouths them drop a letter into the box. thankfully we only deliver blank envelopes to does who sign up"

she picks up a envelope "the hater turned in a whole different type of envelope than the one we provide. we were able to take it out before giving the rest of the letters to you"

"what did they write" i look at the leader and she just sighed "nothing nice"

"so are you gonna read the letters?" i ask

"no, i'm thinking of getting a customized stamp. and only the envelopes with the stamp and those who are members of the club can enter letters"

maybe this girl does deserve a autograph....but I didn't like her attitude...

"just leave the letters here, let everyone know todays letters will not be delivered or any to be exact till we get the stamp"

the girl nods, leaving the box at the counter before walking out.

"thank you" you say

"for what?"

"looking out for the boys very carefully"

"people can have their own opinion, but it doesn't give them the right to make others feel bad about them selves"

you agreed with her and nodded "but you called me selfish" you chuckled

"i'm sorry..i guess that was mean"

"what's your name"

"eunsook"

"nice to meet you eunsook, i don't know about that autograph but i'll see what i can do" you smile as you get up from the chair "i have to go to class, so i'll be leaving first" she smiles brightly at you "thank you!"

you missed your chance to see namjoon in the morning so you headed to class since you were close to being late.

you didn't know not texting namjoon that morning was only throwing more wood into the fire.

once lunch came, just as eunsook said. there were no letters. getting lunch you walk to the rooftop, meeting everyone else there.

and a very very very angry namjoon.

you didn't give it much thought. thinking that maybe he was tired , he didn't glance your way and you were used to it because well. you were both trying not to make it obvious.

sometimes you couldn't help it but look at him, but today you felt like it was fine.

but to him, he felt like you were mad at him.

"there was no letters today" jimin says

"yeah, i didn't even see the box" taehyung talks with his mouth full, receiving a disgusted look from jimin

"they have to do some adjustments to the letters after what happened. before doing it again...don't expect any letters for a couple of days" you tell them as if it was nothing

"what happened??" jimin's asked concerned

"oh.." you couldn't bring yourself to tell them that people were already hating on them. and not even that but people were already starting to write hateful things to them.

"oh uh....they wanna make the envelopes cuter...something about labeling..i'm not sure honestly I wasn't paying attention" you stuff tteokbokki into your mouth.

"you know a lot about our fans huh" taehyung asks with his mouth full. "uh i spent some time with them yesterday and today..."uh by the way, are you guys able to write autographs?" you ask jimin

"not really..why?"

"oh..just asking" you smile at him

they all just stared at you confused, you were making no sense. none of your questions or what you were saying made sense.

"uh anyways.." hoseok speaks up

"we are gonna start practicing at our company from now on"

"really? that's awesome"

"you can come watch whenever you want" jimin smiles

"i'll make sure to visit"

you didn't get the chance to talk to namjoon all day, and not even to try and talk to him after school. jimin said they all had to go and practice. starting tomorrow they would be missing their last two classes to go train.

not wanting to bother namjoon or jimin, you decided not to text neither of them.

as you did your homework you kept thinking of namjoon, and how he looked down all day. maybe it was cause of everything that has been happening. your phone then rings, and picking it up you thought it'd be namjoon or jimin but it was a new number.

UNKNOWN

Hey, I hope you don't mind but I got your number from the survey you took. it's Eunsook btw.

CHANGE  UNKNOWN  TO  EUNSOOK

NO OR  YES

Y/N

I don't mind

Eunsook

I just wanted to ask you to not tell BTS about the letters.

Y/n

oh, don't worry about it. I didn't tell them they did ask about why there weren't any letters but all I said was that you guys were changing somethings.

Eunsook

Thank you! You were trying to figure out a way to tell her that jimin can't give her an autograph. you tapped your fingers on the table as you tried to think of how to even make a conversation. your introvert ass was horrible at this.

Y/n

I can't get the autograph for you... they aren't allowed to do those things

Eunsook

I figured they wouldn't... thanks for trying. I hope we can be friends.

Y/n

sure :)

how do you solve a conflict you had no idea was happening. namjoon was upset with you. you could sense how he'd stare at you as you sat the opposite side of him during lunch. neither of you had texted the other, you were going to call him yesterday but once jimin arrived home he was so tired you could only guess namjoon was too

you didn't know why he was upset with you, but all you knew was that jimin said he had been in a bad mood all day yesterday.

he was even distracted during the practice and got in trouble a couple of times.

you wanted to ask him what was wrong, and you wanted to ask him to meet you were you always did but you were nervous to get caught by someone else. especially now that they are one step closer to what they've always wanted.

jungkook's words were taking a toll on you. it was bothering you, everything.

if there is one thing you hated about yourself, it was the fact that you are an emotional mess when your period is coming. like anything can make you cry. and seeing that namjoon was upset with you didn't help.

once school ended, jimin invited you to the studio. said it would be fine if you just sat there and watched. apparently it was namjoon's idea.

something about, you telling them if they improved or not. and well, you honestly wanted to go home, but he was already mad so you didn't wanna give him another reason.

you watched them practice for a hour before they had a break.

"what do you think?" jimin says as he collapses next to you, handing him a towel and bottle of water "you guys look amazing, of course with hoseok as your your coach in dancing why wouldn't you look good" you giggle, hoseok who was laying on the floor shoots a thumbs up at you

"can you get us some more bottles" yoongi says to you, he's also laying on the floor. you look at all the members and all of them look out of it. they were out of breathe. even the mirror was foggy.

"sure"

"i'll help" namjoon gets up from the floor, as he walk to the door he grabs his bag. you were surprised, but followed him through the small narrowed halls silently.

he opens the door to a dark room, you walk in trying to look for the light switch. and just as you were gonna turn on the light, namjoon shuts the door, grabbing your arm he pushes you against the wall. his body pressing against yours. you could smell the Cologne mixed with sweat.

"namjoon?" you gasp once you feel his knee pressed against your heat.

"why have you been ignoring me" he's still holding onto your arm, as his other hand is on your waist "w-what?" you were completely shocked.

he puts more pressure on you with his knee "you're really gonna act like you don't know" you could feel butterflies in your stomach

you had no idea why he was upset. but he was hot.

"namjoon, i have no idea what your talki-"

"you don't text me anymore, you said no to go to your room, and you didn't even write a letter" he didn't know if you were just being bold acting as if you didn't know or if you were just that dense

moving your hair aside he begins to suck on your skin, harshly

"n-namjoon hold on" you try to push him away but he holds your wrist with on hand, holding them over your head "what" he says with a attitude

"i haven't been ignoring you, i just thought you would be tired after training" you hiss at the pain as he sucks on your skin harder "i didn't write a letter cause your fans might read the letters"

he stops sucking on your skin and looks at you confused "and why would they read the letters"

"just..because"

"what? that makes no sense" looking away you were mentally cursing yourself for even trying to use that as an excuse

"what aren't you telling me"

"nothing.."

"y/n, i swear" he growls

"nothing" you tell him again, he lets go of your hands and walks to the table where he had tossed his bag "why did you tell me not to go to your room"

"because we should be more careful to not get caught"

"why would they read the letters" you bite your bottom lip , trying to come up with an excuse but namjoon was just getting annoyed by your silence.

"fine" opening his bag he looks through it till he finds something. the room was dark, you couldn't see much, especially what ever he had taken out of his bag

"namjoon?"

"why would they read the letters?" he didn't believe that was your excused he thinks there's something more to it.

"why does it matter, i'll write you letters and just hand them to you instead"

"no, i wanna know why" he walks towards you, the little light that entered the room let you see he was smirking

you kept quiet, the moment he was near you. he makes you look at him as he lifts your chin "do you know how much of a toll you've had on me these past days. making me think you were mad at me"

"i didn-"

"shh" he brushes his thumb over your lips

"stop talking"his hand was caressing your thigh, and you knew what that meant.

"namjoon we cant have se-"

"didn't i tell you to stop talking" he grabs your chin harshly. you stare at him with widen eyes

"you need to get punished, for how you made me feel. and for keeping secrets"

"what secrets, i'm telli-" you squeal as namjoon slaps your ass suddenly "didn't i say something" he grabs your arm "come here" pulling you to the table he makes your sit on it, spreading your legs

you cover your mouth with your hand once you see him get on his knees. you wanted to tell him right now wasn't the time for this but he told you to be quiet.

pushing your skirt up, he right away moves your underwear to the side. he begins to leave long licks on your clit, making you bite onto your lip to try and not let out any noise. his hands gripping onto your thighs.

a few more licks and his tongue enters you causing you to squirm, his grip on your thighs tightening

just as you felt like you were about to cum he stops.

you stare at him in disbelief, mad that he didn't let you finish.

"don't pout like that babe" he smirks, satisfied with your reaction.

you stare at him, the way he was sweaty from the practice to how he was just eating you out made you more wet.

"i got something for you" you sit up, watching him taking something out of his pocket.

"what's that?" you ask as a small black thing but couldn't see clearly what it was. he chuckles, always amused at how this was all new to you.

"it's a vibrator"

"namjoon no" you knew damn well what that fucking was

"after what you've made me go through the past few days, this is your punishment" you close your thighs tightly, trying to think of a way to run away. but he gets up quickly holding onto your waist, keeping you on the table "y/n"

"no namjoon"

"y/n" he says your name with a husky voice, leaning in for a kiss but he only brushes his lips against yours. his hands move to your knees "no" you whisper against his lips

"y/n" he says once more before he kisses you, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth. you missed his lips against yours. he slowly opened your legs as you both kissed. you just couldn't say no to him.

"namjoon but"

"shhh, just trust me ok"

he turns on the vibrator with the control, as he rubs it against your clothed heat making you flinch at the sudden vibration

"that's the lowest setting" he chuckles

"i can't do it" you tell him

"yes, you can" turning it off he he sticks his finger into you "look at you, taking my finger so well, you're ready"

without even letting you answer he sticks the vibrator into you, your hands grip the sides of the desk, nervous at the thought of him turning it on.

"tell me y/n, why would they read the letters" he asked as he tugs the string into your underwear. he puts your skirt down, leaning on the table with both hands beside your thighs. his left hand had the control.

i'm sorry eunsook..."they found people writing hateful things, they mentioned something about reading them before giving them to you"

he didn't look happy about what you said, but he also didn't look surprised "couldn't you just say that"

"i promised i wouldn't.." he chuckles at how scared you looked as you glanced at the controller

"why did you avoid me"

"i told you, i thought you'd be tired"

"not good enough of an excuse"

"you know the phone works both ways, why didn't you text m-" you squeal as he turns on the vibrator, making you hold on to his shoulders

"i don't like your attitude"

"i'm sorr-ry" it wasn't high, but it caught you by surprise, he turns it off.

"we've taken long, lets go" he stands up, picking up his bag

"namjoon take it out" you whine, standing up. you felt weird.

"nope, this is your punishment. keep arguing with me and i'll turn it on" you follow him as he walks to the dinning area down the hall. he grabs some bottles of water. handing other ones to you. "when i turn it on, if you make noise i'll raise the level"

"what?" you were anxious

"lets go sweetheart" he walks out the dinning area and begin to walk to the practice room "think of an excuse" he says before opening the door, to let you go in first

"what took you so long!" yoongi yells, still tired from the training "sorry i went the bathroom.." you answer quickly, not wanting namjoon to turn it on.

you place the bottles on the table, rushing to sit on the couch on the other side of the room. it felt weird. or maybe you were just too conscious of it.

they all get ready to start practicing again, as they get to their formation you feel it turn on making you gasp loudly.

jimin turns to look at you "what"

you shake your head quickly, "nothing nothing" you stare at namjoon who's brow was raised. you feel the vibrator go faster and you just knew he kept his word and raised the level.

you press your thighs together, as you sat there trying to concentrate on watching them dance. but it wasn't helping. the feeling was new. and you were weak.

you felt how you were getting excessively wet making you press your thighs together even more.

as they dance, namjoon moves to the side waiting for his turn. watching you the whole time with a stupid smile.

you wanted to curse him out, but you felt a familiar knot in your stomach. and as if namjoon could read your facial expressions he turns it off before stepping out to dance his part. you sigh as you feet it stop.

you were drained, you wanted to take it out. getting up from the couch, you were gonna go to the bathroom but you sat instantly the moment you felt it turn on in a higher power. you lean on the side of the couch as you cover your mouth.

as for the guys they were too focused to pay attention to you, other than namjoon no one else was glancing your way.

you wanted to throw the bag at namjoon at this point

you just tried to make sure you wouldn't make any noise, the music that played loudly helped cover your heavy breathing

the music stops and you try to keep your composure. namjoon walks over to you, he had left the bottle by you. as he stands next to you. he has a stupid smug look, his hand in his pocket clearly holding the controller "namjoon i'm gonna go take it out" you were about to get up but you feel it go faster and it made to whimper loudly

namjoon choked at the water since he couldn't hold back his laugh. your underwear was soaked.

the practice finally ended and he hadn't turned it on. the guys mentioned going out to eat but namjoon decided to stay back "i'll clean up, you guys go ahead" you tell jimin you'll help namjoon, which was a lie. you just couldn't stand, your legs were too weak to walk. the moment everyone left to go eat you glare at namjoon who was leaning against the mirror.

"don't look at me like that, my finger might slip" he shows you the control, teasing you.

"please take it out" you whine holding onto the couch side with your life. "fine, you got punished enough" he walks to the door, locking it to make sure no one enters.

as he walks towards you, you spread your legs. you could've just yanked it out yourself but you were afraid to hurt your self.

he sees how soaked your underwear is and he looked at you "liked it that much?"

you wanted to tell him to shut up, but didn't want him to change his mind and not take it out, the moment he pulls on the string and takes the vibrator out slowly. you were exhausted, you body leaning back on the sofa .

your eyes were shut, you hear him opening his bag "i'm gonna put these on you, just tell jimin you bleed through" and as you sat there on the sofa, namjoon helped you put on his joggers, taking off your skirt and putting it in your bag.

everyone had gone to eat at a near by restaurant, you texted jimin saying you were tired and that namjoon was gonna take you home.

he insisted on taking you but ended up convincing him to stay.

"you're horrible" you mean mug him making him laugh "don't make me pull over and fuck you in the back seat"

"i'll seriously be mad at you if you do" he just chuckles, "did you hate it that bad"

you pout looking out the window "alright, i'm sorry" he puts his hand on your thigh giving it a small squeeze

"i don't wanna use it again"

"damn, really babe?" he gives you another squeeze

"yes really" you slap his hand, he glances at you as if saying 'did you just hit me'

"one more time, and if you don't like it after that then we won't use toys"

crossing your arms you stare out the window instead of answering him

"alright alright, we won't use it"

"fine we can, but you can't use it how you did today" you make sure to glare at him

"what ever you want" grabbing your hand, he gives it a kiss before interwinding his fingers with yours.

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 52

fandoms: hp, mdzs, svsss, tgcf

hp

evans by DragonflyxParodies

There is a picture in one of the books of a worn young man, heavily scarred with gentle eyes. Remus Lupin, he is identified as. The man who was watching Charles, and presumably Harry. The man who died defending them. Harry traces his fingertips over the man’s face and wonders.

And then he stops, and reels all those thoughts into a tangled knot and tucks it away.

They didn’t want him; that’s fine. He doesn’t want them either.

xxx

Alternatively; Harry James Evans is Sorted Slytherin, desperate to stay hidden from the family that gave him up so many years ago. Severus Snape owes debts to a child presumed dead and the child's tormented godfather; and now he has a cunning, paranoid snake to charm all without tipping anyone else off to the boy's true identity.

snaca by orphan_account

snake: a long limbless reptile which has no eyelids, a short tail and jaws that are capable of considerable extension. Some snakes have a venomous bite.

mdzs

D.C. al Fine by westiec

For a moment Lan Wangji thinks he is dead, and he is wracked with such shocking, unexpected grief that he stops breathing.

-

Wei Wuxian gets a second chance, just when he is least ready for it.

Alter by Solmae

(explicit) (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, underage)

Qishan Wen Sect's power is growing, overshadowing the land like the rising sun.

While other cultivation sects are becoming uncomfortable, they also want to avoid trouble. But Gusu Lan Sect has been a thorn in the Wen Sect's side for years, slowly growing isolated, until even the famous Gusu lectures are closed to outsiders. Until one day, Wen Ruohan decides he's had enough and sends his forces to Gusu.

The Cloud Recesses burns. The Lan Sect is slaughtered. The Twin Jades are taken prisoners, forced into impossible choices to protect each other.

And the uneasy peace shatters.

svsss

To Conquer an Emperor by zarasu

(explicit)

Transmigrating into the stallion novel he hates most is bad enough, but why did it have to be into the body of one of the protagonist's wives? Shen Yuan spends exactly two months dealing with harem intrigues, sullen maids and his husband utterly ignoring him before he decides to go on an extended holiday. Very extended. Surely no one will care if he just forgets about being married and becomes a cultivator, right?

(In which Luo Binghe goes on a quest to bring his errant husband home and Shen Yuan takes him on an adventure instead.)

Tarnished Gold by Prim_the_Amazing

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

Becoming emperor of the cultivation world will start with a first step as small and basic as becoming Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace. For that, he must steal the position away from the current Head Disciple. Luo Binghe will sabotage, upstage, and completely and utterly best him.

The road to destroying everything and everyone who has ever wronged him, to becoming the highest ruler so that no one will ever have the right to control him ever again - it will start as simply as ruining Gongyi Xiao’s life.

Compared to everything else he’s already done, this should be easy.

-

Luo Binghe brings all his skills of cunning and brutality to bear on Gongyi Xiao, Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace Sect. It… doesn’t go too well for him.

Every Gamble Has A Price by Lost_Starlight

(mature)

Shen Yuan’s careful preparations to fake his own demise are rudely interrupted by actual death, and that should be the end of his story.

But in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way, nothing is ever quite that simple.

Or: Shen Qingqiu dies while Luo Binghe is in the Abyss, and all his hard work goes to waste when the half-demon follows his original’s cold-hearted career path to the throne. However, fate (and the System) are not finished with the Demon Lord yet. And what better to throw at him than traitors, unknown diseases, and odd, suspicious civilians who know more than they should?

tgcf

Lost in the Tide by kianspo

(mature)

Once-upon-a-time an aspiring surgeon and now a down-on-his-luck vet Xie Lian is struggling to keep his little clinic open. He's not doing very well until one night a handsome stranger bursts in, begging him to save his dog.

of death, and love, and absolution by Naamah_Beherit

(mature)

Every year, a ghost king roams the night in search of lost souls and leaves only destruction in his wake. Every year, Hua Cheng's temples are burning.

Or: a story in which Xie Lian is a Devastation, Hua Cheng is a Heaven Official, and nothing is what it seems.

Torn, Trampled Flower by hoarder_of_stories

(explicit) (rape/non-con)

Xie Lian, cursed to be the target of any rape that happens around him, has what is unfortunately a fairly normal day for him. Hua Cheng finds him afterwards.

-

Stunned, he drops his bag of scraps. The flower in his hand flutters to the ground. He watches it fall, and resigns himself to what comes next.

He knows not to fight, by now. The curse on him is vindictive. He fought, at first. And then he learned about the people whose suffering replaced his own.

He fixes the image of the woman he’d found, broken and lifeless, all those centuries ago, in his mind’s eye, and forces his muscles to relax.

[bluestar22x]

Second Chance Proposal

Second Chances (Part 5): Second Chance Proposal

Summary: Marcus has questions to ask both Missy and Elena - Marcus POV

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Elena

Rating: 18+ series, 13+ rated chapter

Warnings: Fluffy fluff fluff

Word Count: 2,045

Author’s Note: We all know Missy’s the boss here but at least she’s a sweet one. I hope everyone who reads likes this one. I kinda had a rough go here.

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

He’d been thinking about it for a while, a couple months before he bought the delicate diamond ring hidden in his sock drawer and another month since then. Marcus had been dating Elena for almost ten months and he wanted more. He wanted to commit to her in the most official way he could. To put it simply, he wanted to marry her, and he was pretty sure if he asked she would say yes. He knew what it felt like to be loved like that (and wasn’t he lucky to experience it twice?).  

The only reason he hesitated was because of Missy. Getting engaged to Elena and asking her to move into the house wouldn’t just be an adjustment for him, it would also, arguably, be an even bigger adjustment for Missy. Missy and Elena adored each other but hanging out a few times a week was different than living with each other. The implications behind Elena becoming her stepmother were not trifle either.

So Marcus had sat on the ring and the big question for a while. But as Elena’s birthday neared, he got more conscious of it, like it was burning a hole in his drawer. Proposing to her on her thirty-third birthday would be too good of an opportunity for his romantic heart to pass up. But he knew the only way he’d get the courage to do it was if he talked to Missy about it first.

It was on the first of August, ten days before Elena’s birthday, after a Taco Tuesday supper, that Marcus sat down at the kitchen table beside Missy, who was busy reading a biography her English teacher had forced upon her class over the summer, and tried to figure out how best to start up the conversation.

Missy was bothered by his looming presence long before he could. She peered up from the book and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I have something…hypothetical to ask you,” he told her, letting the fingers of his right hand tap on the tabletop.

“Shoot.”

“Hypothetically, if I got married to Elena, would you be okay with that?” he inquired.

Missy’s eyes lit up. “You’re thinking of proposing to Miss Elena?”

Marcus was surprised by her excitement. “Yeah, I am. But I wanted to make sure you’d be okay with it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, beaming. “She’s great, and that’s an understatement.”

“I just thought,” Marcus paused, hesitated, “I just thought you’d feel like I was trying to replace your mom, and that’s not my intention.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “I’m not a little kid anymore Dad. I’m thirteen years old. And I’m the one who encouraged you to date her, remember? It’s cool. If I’m going to have a stepmother, she’d be my first choice.”

Marcus relaxed into his seat. He should have known Missy would be mature about this. She was wise beyond her years.

“I just have one condition,” Missy decided after a moment of contemplation.

Marcus arched both his brows. “Oh?” He had no idea what to expect.

“That I’m there,” she said, pointing to herself. “I’ve had a hand in this from the beginning after all.”

He chuckled, glad the condition wasn’t too serious, and lifted his hands up, feigning defeat. “Alright. Alright. I can work with that. Have you got any ideas how I should go about it?”

She sighed heavily and stared at him. “Do I have to do everything for you?”

He laughed harder. “I have some ideas!” he protested. “I just want to hear yours too.”

“Well then,” Missy mused, “I’ll finish this chapter and then we can talk. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook hands and he smiled at her as she returned to her assignment. He was lucky in so many ways.

X

Everything was perfect, or as perfect as it could get. Marcus had reserved a table at a semiformal rooftop restaurant in the center of the city and planned with Missy what he would wear (tan slacks with a button-down navy blue shirt) and what he’d do leading up to the big question. She’d suggested a vase of Elena’s favorite flowers (African Violets) for on top of the table and the restaurant owner had been more than willing to set it up for him after finding out his plans. They’d made other accommodations he hadn’t expected as well, one being that their table was in a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes, since he knew Elena wasn’t the type for big public announcements. She preferred inmate things. It had been easy for the restaurant staff to set it up with Elena’s birthday being on a Wednesday. The restaurant wouldn’t be jam packed like it was on the weekend.

Elena by coincidence matched Marcus that night, wearing a recently bought navy blue summer dress with white floral designs to the restaurant, while Missy had picked out a cute little white dress with laced edges, despite her declaration that she was NOT a lacy dress girl (she was making an exception for the occasion). Anita might have had something to do with that. Actually, Marcus was pretty sure she did. No one could say no to his mother.

The weather had been the most unpredictable thing in the entire plan, but that was why he’d picked a restaurant that still had an overhang to cover the outdoor dining area. He needn’t have worried though, the sky that night was clear, and as they finished their meals of steak, chicken, and salad, they were witnesses to the start of a beautiful sunset, several shades of orange light streaking through a few fluffy white clouds over the hills that surrounded the city to the west.

“Sometimes I forget how beautiful this city can be,” Elena had murmured, eyes staring into the distance in an almost dream like manner as they waited for dessert.

With her distracted, Marcus decided it was the perfect moment, and he signaled for Missy to excuse herself from the table to go get their unknowing accomplice to his staged proposal (Missy’s idea).

She quickly returned with a petite red long coated Chihuahua in her arms, grinning widely. “Look who I found.”

Elena twisted around to face her and lit up with surprise. “Ginger! How’d you get her in here?”

“The restaurant owner was nice enough to give us special permission,” Marcus explained. “And your neighbor Jamie was beyond willing to bring her over when I asked her to.”

He was pretty sure Jamie had a crush on him, even though she knew he and Elena were dating. When he’d shown up at her door she’d recognized him right away, because of his occasional speeches that were broadcasted on the news channels and the picture on the shelf in Elena’s living room. She had babbled a bit about how great he and the rest of the Heroics were before agreeing to drop Ginger off at the restaurant at eight o’clock, no questions asked. He got the sense she’d probably guessed what he was planning by the way he was acting (nervous), but luckily didn’t seem to care. When you were famous, whether you be an actor or a singer or a heroic, most fans thankfully tended to be that way.

Missy handed Ginger over to Elena and the dog licked her owner on the neck, exposing her own and revealing the black box that was taped to her green collar.

“What’s this?” Elena frowned, peeling the tape off and cradling the tiny black box in the palm of her hand.

“Open it!” Missy exclaimed, not being able to contain herself.

Marcus wasn’t sure if Elena had her suspicions at that point or not, but she still looked shocked enough when she snapped the lid open and the diamond engagement ring sparkled at her.

She covered her mouth with one hand and stared over at Marcus with wide eyes. He was already sliding down onto one knee in front of her.

“Will you marry me, Elena?” he inquired, his breath a little shaky. He’d done this before, and he was pretty sure he’d get another yes, but that didn’t make him a confident man. Not when it came to moments where he had to put his heart on the line.

Elena’s eyes were glistening a bit when she nodded. “Of course I will Marcus!”

He felt all his tension disappear at the words and he grinned at her, warmth flooding his chest. At the sight of his joy, she placed the open box with the ring still inside on the table and let Ginger down gently on the floor before throwing her hands around his neck gleefully. When she pulled away slightly it was to cup one hand on the back of his head and pull him in for a long, sweet kiss. She didn’t let him go until Missy cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” Elena said, blushing as she glanced up at her.

“Don’t mind me,” Missy told her. “I just have something for you too.”

Marcus grinned again, remembering what Missy had picked out last week at the jewelry store five minutes from their house.

“Oh?” Elena pushed herself back onto her feet and Marcus followed suit.

Missy dug into a sneaky little pocket in her dress (Marcus hadn’t known dresses with pockets existed until she had shown him it) and handed a black box - slightly bigger than the first - to Elena, who was surprised for a second time that night.

“Now what’s this?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“You have to look for yourself to find out,” Missy declared, gesturing for her to do so.

Elena lifted the lid up and plucked a silver bracelet out of it, examining it. “This looks like your bracelet,” she observed.

Missy gave her a curt nod and raised her arm to show off hers. “That’s because it is an identical one. I figured if you were going to marry my dad you should have one too. That way we can all communicate quickly if there is ever an emergency.”

Elena looked touched by Missy’s consideration for her. “You came up with that all by yourself?”

“She did,” Marcus confirmed. He was proud of his daughter for coming up with it first. He’d only bought Missy her bracelet after Reina had died, and he regretted not getting it before. It had been useful more than once, especially during times when carrying a phone around wasn’t convenient.

“Can I hug you Missy?” Elena inquired quietly, eyes brimming with tears.

“Sure,” she answered, flashing her a smile.

Elena leaned down and they embraced, Missy tucking her face into her hair and squeezing her tight. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Elena pulled away to look her at her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Missy parroted, a glint in her eyes. “You’re too nice to become an evil stepmother.”

Elena snorted. “We’ll see how you feel about me a year from now.”

Missy appeared a bit horrified by the suggestion, mind probably wondering about what Elena could have planned, but she relaxed again as soon as she saw her lips quirk upward. “Ha. Ha. Good one.”

Elena winked at her and dropped down to sweep Ginger back into her arms, kissing her on the top of her head. “They even included you in this conspiracy, huh?”

Marcus laughed. “Missy’s idea.”

“Of course,” Elena said. “She probably agreed to this for Ginger.”

“She is a benefit,” Missy agreed. “So, when are you moving in with us?”

Judging by her face it was clear Elena hadn’t considered that part of the equation yet, but she didn’t look the least bit hesitant or concerned about it. “Anytime, really. Are you two ready for me to move in?”

Marcus and Missy both nodded at once and she beamed at them. “Alright then. I’ll start packing and moving things over this weekend. It’ll take a month to get out of my contract with my landlord, but that doesn’t mean I can’t move in sooner, as long as you’re good with that.” She met Missy’s eyes again.

“It is,” Missy promised her.

Marcus felt his mouth pull upward at that, grateful as ever that Missy was who she was. He wouldn’t have had this second chance without her.