#you can't tell if she's flirting with you or the gun | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-rigel · 5 months ago

Text

Admit Defeat

warnings: smut, facesitting, fingering, bottom! sevika (if you squint), lots of flirting, y'all are in love, sub! sevika (if you squint), yearning, lesbians being lesbians

work count: 4k

You don't remember who made the first move. You don't know what you had done to get Sevika to return your feelings. At some point, the two of you switched from only speaking in work-appropriate conversations to constantly flirting. The switch was far from gradual, a near overnight shift in dynamic. For weeks, Sevika has been laying the charm on thick and you've been returning the banter.

Tonight was no different. The two of you inside the near empty Last Drop, chatting over a game of billiards. Billiards isn't yours or Sevika's typical game but watching her bend over the table was too tempting a sight to pass up.

“I ever tell you about the time I almost bled out?” Sevika says, chalking up her cue.

“Just one time? That's a little boring, Sevika,” you tease.

“I'd have to be stabbed to be bleeding, and you know how often that happens.”

The answer was seldom. Sevika got into plenty of fights, but most ended with her mechanical claws in her opponent's gut. Never the other way around.

“Go on. Tell me,” you urge. She finishes chalking her cue and sets it down on the edge of the table. Your eyes follow her as she walks around the table, searching for her shot. She studies the eleven ball, considering the difficulty.

“Eleven, back left pocket,” she calls. She bends down to line up the shot. But instead of taking it, she begins her story.

“I was at the harbor, the smaller one, on personal business-”

“You were gambling,” you interrupted, leaning your weight to rest your hip onto the table. You watch Sevika's eyes follow your movement.

Sevika shakes her head, “It was for personal business. Needed new plating for my arm, one that can withstand higher temperatures. I heard from a trusted source-”

“At the brothel,” you interrupted again. She still hasn't taken the shot. Still bent over the table, cue lined to hit but her arm hasn't drawn back yet.

Sevika laughs at your correction, “I heard at the brothel that someone was looking to trade down at the harbor. I went down there with an alright gun. Wanted to be rid of it anyway. I get there looking for the guy and I find he's got four other people with him, fucking bruisers by the looks of it.”

Sevika takes a break in her story to finally take her shot, the eleven ball gliding across the felt and into the pocket she called prior. She stands, walking over to where you're leaning against the table. She smirks as she draws closer to you, stopping just close enough for you to feel her body heat. You look up at her, gaze dropping to her lips for a moment before moving back up to her eyes.

“It's your turn again,” you tell her. You tilt your head toward the table, not breaking eye contact.

“You're standing in front of my shot.”

“My bad,” you playfully shrug, taking a large enough step back. Sevika immediately fills the space, stepping even closer to you than she was before. Another centimeter and your chests would be touching.

Up this close, you'd have to crane your neck to make eye contact. But since you can't find it in you to look away from her lips, you don't have to look as far up. Her tongue creeps from her parted lips and wets her bottom lip, surely to tease you.

“As I was saying,” Sevika continues, aware you're watching each word, “I don't pay attention to the other guys, figured if I didn't treat them like a threat they weren't gonna fuck with me. And it worked for the most part. I get through the trade with my guy, no issues. I'm thinking it's over so I shake his hand, close the deal and wait for him and his goons to leave, cause I'm not gonna turn my back on them.”

You nod, trying to follow along with her story but your attention is divided between how her lips quirk up into a smirk every other sentence. You loved this side of Sevika, the side that can't stop talking. The side that loves sharing her time with other people. The side that is heartfelt and open.

“You still listening?” She says, pulling your thoughts away from her mouth and secret softness.

“Just skip to the good part,” you huff. You're not impatient and you could listen, and watch, her talk for hours. But the attraction between the two of you was a few degrees warmer tonight. You can't afford to overheat, especially since you work together.

“Right. The good part. They think I'm looking for a fight so they jump me. I handled them fine enough, taking a few punches. Was focused on keeping them off of me. One of ‘em came charging at me with a knife, no fucking clue where he got it from, and aims right at my ribs. I wasn't really thinking, I just pushed his arm down. Fucking slashed my thigh open,” she continued. She bent over the table again and this time you could see her back muscles ripple underneath her shirt.

You shift your hips slightly, so they brush against her side.

“Can I see?” You ask.

She stood up without taking her shot, taking a step to trap you between herself and the table, “I'd have to take off my pants.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She chuckles, “Thought you'd let me kiss you before trying to get me undressed.”

This was the moment one of you would usually chicken out, coughing up a practiced excuse. But tonight was different. Seizing a confidence you've never held in your life before, you close the little distance there is between you.

“Kiss me, then take your pants off.”

“Thank fuck,” she sighs.

She reaches her right hand out, cupping your cheek and guides you to her mouth. There is a moment of hesitation from her, when your lips are a hair away. A chance for you to withdraw. But you won't take it. You push up on your tiptoes, smashing your lips into hers.

Sevika hasn't felt genuine attraction like this in years. Her body feels like it moves on its own accord. Doing the opposite of what she usually does in situations like these. Fingers tracing over skin instead gripping. Tongue feeling the softness of your lips instead of claiming. Heart beating wildly out of her chest instead of being steady.

Her chemtech arm holds you by your waist. Between her hips pressing into yours, the table behind you and her arm holding you up, you still feel like you'll melt right to the floor.

Needing more purchase, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her hair tickles your fingertips and you need to feel more of the soft strands. When you tangle your fingers into her hair she shudders, her knees go weak and weight shifts to rest on you.

You take the time to kiss down her neck, feeling her breaths catch in her throat. Feeling her skin vibrate with her moans. When your lips press onto her pulse point you can feel her erratic heartbeat. It almost overwhelms you, how much she softens for you.

You're surprised when she guides your hands from her hair down to her breast. Without any hesitation, you fondle her breasts, thumbs rubbing over where you know her nipples are. She's letting out moans above you, the sounds deep and throaty.

She gasps out a ‘wait’ and you pull your hands and face away. After she catches her breath she asks if you want to go back to her place.

She's staring deep into your eyes and you regret having looked at her mouth so much tonight. She has the prettiest eyes you've even seen, the most enchanting shade of gray you've ever seen. Like a thundercloud full of heavy rain, her eyes always held back a rough storm. Usually she's unreadable, but right now you know exactly what she wants.

“Mine is probably closer,” you offer.

At that Sevika nods, muttering out a soft “Take me.”

You grab her hand and lead her out the Last Drop and in the direction of your apartment. It's far closer than Sevika's, hardly a five minute walk. Three minutes if you were really in a rush. You make it home in two and a half.

It's a simple studio apartment, small but well within your needs.

Once you step inside, she grabs you from underneath your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around her torso. Your hands find their way into her hair, fingers dancing on her scalp. You needed her weak for you, and she was falling apart at the seams the more you touched her. She carries you over to the bed, hiding in the corner of your apartment. She sits down on your bed with you sitting on her lap.

Her hands grab at your shirt, shoving the offending fabric over your breasts until you break the kiss to pull your top over your head. You return to the kiss the moment your shirt is discarded behind you, pushing Sevika down into the mattress. She gasps into your mouth as her back thuds against the bed.

Her hands are flat against your lower back, inching downwards to slip her fingertips beneath the band of your pants. Sevika guides your hips to grind over hers. You rut your hips into her, no rhythm or pace set.

"You've got such a pretty face," you tell her. "You wouldn't want me to sit on it, would you?" It's something you've been waiting to experience, waiting for the right person. If there was anyone you wanted it with, without hesitation, it's Sevika.

"I've been waiting for you to say that for so fucking long," Sevika laughs. You laugh with her, finding humor is how long you've spent dancing around each other.

You roll off of her lap onto your back to shimmy off your pants and underwear. Within seconds, Sevika is sitting up to help you out of your clothes. You lift your hips and she pulls your pants and underwear down on one try.

Seeing you near fully naked, Sevika admires your body. Every curve is in its perfect place. Every scar is like fine details painted into your skin. Each blemish makes you more and more of a masterpiece. She always thought you were breathtaking but the word felt much more literal now. Breathing was wasted energy, anything other than pouring her full attention into admiring you was useless to her.

“Sevika… you're staring,” you said under your breath.

“I- I'm going to die tonight,” she sighs, leaning down to press kisses to your shoulder. She kisses your shoulder until she's grounded herself, no longer lost in passion boiling over in her head.

“I need you on my face. Now,” she says against your shoulder.

“Patience.”

“Fuck that. I need you. I can't wait anymore.”

She grabs your hips, flipping you over to straddle her waist. She unclasps your bra, pulling the straps off your shoulders.

“You're still dressed,” you gasped, trying to find an excuse to slow her down.

“We'll get to that later. Sit on my fucking face.” She grabs at your hips trying to pull you up and shimmy herself down. You admit defeat when she pouts.

You crawl up her body and place one knee to the left side of her head before swinging the other over her head. You don't sit down on her face yet, shifting your hips back to hover over her shoulders.

“Fuck, please sit on my face. I can't wait.” her hands grab your thighs, metal and flesh fingers alike digging into you.

You're ready to give yourself to her, but you're stopped by the look in her eyes. This time she's the one to take your breath away.

You reach down and stroke her cheek, “You're so pretty.”

Her hands loosen their grip on your hips, thumbs stroking your skin.

“You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful,” she whispered. The moment was so fragile but nothing could break how she felt for you.

You feel the need to say something in return but the only words that come to mind are about how you're falling for her. And you can't give yourself away just yet. So you shift your hips over her face. Before you take your seat, you notice that you've forgotten a step in your haste.

“Wait, we need a safe signal.”

“Like I'd fucking tap out,” she rasps, frustrated that you're so close but just out of reach.

“Still, we need one.”

“Fine. I'll tap you twice if I need you off. That work?”

“That works,” you nod, shifting your hips to position right over her mouth.

“Oh fuck, thank you.” She sighs before you lower your cunt onto her mouth.

She starts with kisses to your folds, breathing in your scent while she can still breathe. Her lips press kisses everywhere she can reach, mostly over your labia. Her nose nudges right beneath your clit and you drag your hips back to get her right where you need her. Nose now bumping against your clit, your thighs clench from the added simulation.

You can feel the tension, built up on months of pent up emotions, dissolving with each pass of her tongue. The tension melts down, collecting inside of you and waiting to be released. Her kisses become open-mouthed as your arousal coats her lips. You jerk your hips, moving your clit over her mouth. She licks around the bud, feeling it twitch and beg to be touched.

Looking down, you can see her eyes are closed, eyes rolled back behind her lips. Her tongue swipes over your clit and you nearly throw your head back to moan, but you can't tear your eyes away from her. She looks too beautiful beneath you. It makes you feel like you're doing more than taking your own pleasure. It makes you feel like you're not on top, you're on your throne. Your insides clench again as she flicks her tongue over your clit.

Sevika's hips squirm, trying to find some friction to calm the tension inside of her. Everything about you fuels how much she burns for you. She felt warm whenever you were around but with you filling her senses in this moment, she was close to combustion. She could distantly feel a liquid heat drip from her cunt. With each slow drip that leaked from her, her core coiled with excitement.

Channeling her yearning into eating you out, she works her tongue over your clit. When you start to shift your hips again, she flattens her tongue letting you move wherever you please.

You grab her by the hair, grinding onto her tongue to chase your orgasm. It's an orgasm you've been chasing everytime you've masterbated thinking about her. A fantasy that has been just out of reach, and even now it mocks you by running away.

“Sev, I'm so close,” you choked out.

You ride her tongue, desperation drowning out the aching in your muscles. Your thrusts are messy, but her tongue finds you each time. No matter where you move, Sevika is there.

Your orgasm is done with being chased. It meets you, just the way you always imagined it would. It breaks the laws of physics, making gravity cease to exist. Your entire body is weightless as you gasp and choke out Sevika's name. Your grip on her hair is the only thing tying you to this world.

When the world finally rights itself, gravity working as it should, you lift your weight off of her. Her hands pull your hips forward, setting your dripping hole over her mouth. There's so much more of you to be had and Sevika wasn't ready for the moment to end.

She laps at your opening, groaning with every bit of cum she licks away. Your taste is even sweeter now, or maybe it was psychological. Sevika wouldn't put it past her to think you taste better after coming. You did things to her that she couldn't explain.

She is pulled from her thoughts when you jerk your hips away and she detaches her lips. You swing a leg over her head and dismount inelegantly.

“Thank you,” she gasps after she catches her breath. When she no longer needs to gasp for air she takes a deep inhale through her nose, catching your lingering scent that coats her face.

She doesn't have enough time to react before you straddle her hips and push at her top. You're surprised by your surge of energy but you'd be damned if you didn't return the favor.

“Sev… Fucking strip for me,” you purr.

She moans your name, hands reaching up to hold your face and bring you down for a kiss. You dodge the kiss, needing her naked for you.

“Sevika, I want you. Please… you're too beautiful for me not to see.”

That makes her heart skip a beat. Sevika doesn't accept compliments but you said that word like it's the truth. So she believed you.

“Okay,” she nodded, her turn to admit defeat tonight.

You lift off her lap, moving to unbutton her pants. She lifts her hips and you pull down the waist band. Her pants take more force than you expected to pull over her ass but after a couple tries, they slide all the way down to her knees. She begins to kick her pants down to her ankles then toes them off.

“The scar is pretty obvious,” she says. You're confused for a moment then you remember why the two of you are in your bed in the first place. On her left thigh is a gash, a centimeter thick and 7 centimeters long. It was a deep cut, evident by how raised and pale the scar is.

“Shit, that's really fucking bad. How'd you survive?”

“Took two extra doses of shimmer. You'd be surprised by how life saving that shit can be.”

“Huh,” you shrug. She shifts her hips beneath you and you're back in the moment, forgetting her near death experience. Fuck the reason you finally got her into bed, you have her now and nothing else matters.

You are about to tug at her boxers when her chem tech arm reaches down and tears them apart with two tugs. You snort at her impatience. The amusement is soon gone when you see her cunt. Your imagination has failed you, she's prettier than any fantasy you've had. A trail of opaque, white cum leaking from her.

“You fucking came?” you asked.

“I can't control myself with you,” was the best explanation she could give.

“Oh fuck,” you curse. You bend down to press kisses to her torso, trailing down the valley of her muscles. You don't care that you don't have her top off. If you were going to get your way tonight, it will be coming off eventually. But right now you want to feel her.

You set your pace slow, kissing downwards to her thighs. She opens her legs, making space for you between them and you gladly take it.

“Sevika, what do you want?” You doubt you could do anything she wouldn't want but it never hurts to be sure.

Sevika stops to think for a moment. She imagined every single sexual scenario with you. So which one would she choose? A few crossed her mind but one made the coil of excitement return above the rest. The thought of your fingers, more slender and soft than hers, fucking her until she melts into nothing.

“Finger me,” she pleads. Sevika keeps surprising you, using a desperate tone that goes against her character.

“Oh shit, I'm going to fuck you so good,” you sighed.

You get comfortable on your knees, intending to stay there as long as you can. You trail your fingers over her thighs, tracing words into her skin. You can't tell her that you're falling so you write it out. On her left thigh, ‘I love you” is etched. On her right thigh, “Stay with me” is drawn.

“Stop tickling me, I need you inside me,” she whines. The sound almost kills you, her velvet voice whining for you to enter her.

You trace your right hand over her thigh and toward her cunt, teasing just a little more. She gasps when you insert your middle finger. Maybe you do too, with how good she feels. You knew she was wet but what makes you lightheaded is how warm she is.

Her whines no longer shock you, coming out of her with each slow stroke of your finger. Adding a second finger takes her moans up in pitch. Your fingers feel a thousand times better than she dreamed, non-calloused fingers pulling the coil inside her tighter.

“More,” she pants. You don't want to leave her word up for interpretation so you ask for clarification.

“More what? Another finger? Faster? Need me to rub your clit? Tell me,” you urged.

“Faster! Touch my clit!” she gasps out. Sweat begins to coat her forehead.

Your fingers pick up their speed, curling against her sweet spot. Without removing your fingers, you move over her right thigh, walking up on your knees before settling down.

In this position you lay at her side, face next to hers and arm reaching down to finger her. Your palm rubs over her clit with each thrust. You dip your head down to attach your lips. She sighs into your mouth, lips parting to let you control the kiss.

Everytime your lips meet, you find a new favorite way to kiss her. Now, you find you love biting her lip. She pants and moans into your mouth as her pussy squelches from your fingering. She sounds wetter with each thrust, your fingers gliding in with more and more ease.

“Please,” she pants, “I'll make a mess.”

It's your turn to groan into her mouth. That sentence was a threat and a promise. She shifts her hips nudging your fingers to the exact right spot.

You feel her orgasm wet your fingers as she whimpers out your name. Nothing could've prepared you for how magical making Sevika squirt for you would be. Her breaths huffed into your mouth. Her thighs clamped around your hand. Her pussy leaked all over your fingers.

After thirty seconds pass, her thighs unclench and you remove your hand. You bring it up to your lips but Sevika grabs your wrist before you can taste her.

“Can we… I want us… I want to be yours.” Sevika says when she catches her breath.

“As long as I can be yours.”

She guides your wrist to your mouth and you take your coated fingers into your mouth. Her taste bursts over your tongue, earthy and slightly salty. You lick your fingers clean and commit her taste to memory. Not that you would never taste her again, but it's something you need to remember. Any moment spent not tasting her will be torture from now on.

Sevika wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in to lay on her chest. You settle in, placing your head over her heart. The two of you hold each other, you're listening to her heartbeat steady itself.

“Sorry about your sheets,” you hear her say, words rumbling in her chest.

You sit up to inspect the damage. The image makes you laugh. Between her thighs is a little heart-shaped puddle.

“I lo-” you stop before the words come out, “I don't care. It'll wash out.”

You lay back down to cuddle her, “You came in a heart-shaped puddle, by the way.”

Sevika snorts, not surprised that her body was outing her feelings for you. She presses a kiss to your forehead, settling for gratefulness that she didn't chicken out tonight.

“Why did it take so long for us to do this?” you ask.

“I was afraid you'd figure out that I'm in love with you,” she says. She meant to hide the words but they found their way out. Sevika loves the way you soften her, how you break away all the walls to her heart without trying.

Your voice is a whisper when you speak, “Are you still scared?”

“I'm terrified.”

“Me too.”

“Scared?” Sevika tries to get you to clarify. She needs to know.

“No. In love with you.”

#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #i love sevika #sevika x female reader #im unsure if this can count as bottom sevika #pls eat this up y'all

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luveline · 2 years ago

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JADE!!! WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE ANOTHER SPENCER X BADASS GIRL!!! maybe its a quiet day and reader & spencer just chilling and joking around in their little world and the others just watching ahahah

thank you for your request babe, I would love to write more for this pairing if u have requests!! ♡ fem!reader

"What are they doing?" Emily asks, a fierce whisper that carries across the jet.

"I think they're flirting," JJ whispers back.

Hotch closes the case file in front of him. There's nothing left to do until they get home but sit here in each other's company. You and Spencer seem to have realised this before anybody else, shoulder to shoulder, a book in his hands. He's slouched with his leg crossed over his knee, taking up the majority of the couch. You seem content to take the brunt of his weight while giggling softly by his ear.

Hotch can't lie, he's genuinely startled by your behaviour. It's the total opposite of your usual affect.

"That's not flirting," Rossi says without looking up.

Hotch has to agree. You brush a stray hair from Spencer's shoulder and he doesn't so much as blush, turning the page to show you something particular. You lean in closer still, hand resting now on his shoulder.

That's not flirting, that's way beyond it. Spencer is practically in your lap, and you —wouldn't hug anyone on your birthday, didn't tell them where you were for four days when you had appendicitis until you were forced, cold, lone wolf you— look like you're about to cuddle him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

You're in your own little world.

"I stopped expecting her to push him off twenty minutes ago," Derek says, as seemingly unbothered as Rossi.

"Don't tell me you knew about this," Emily says incredulously.

"They've been going on dates."

"They what?"

You laugh happily at Spencer's side, pointing at a specific line with the tip of your fingernail. "When asked, Moroscova said that the length of his stay was an act of perjury," you read.

Spencer laughs at your quotation, sharing a secret smile with you. "That haircut is an act of perjury."

Your eyes glow with a look Hotch knows well. Haley looked at him like that for years. "Thanks for reading this with me. I know I'm slow."

"You're not slow. I'm really fast. There's a difference."

It's the definition of young love, Hotch thinks, all those heartfelt reassurances disguised as brags, stolen touches, Spencer's knuckles stroking up and down your outer thigh.

He turns back to his book and you stare at the side of his face. It's a little heartbreaking. Hotch knows if things don't work out between you, you'll take it hard. Your affection for Spencer has always been in the silent things, undulating, until lately: you listen to him talk when nobody else has the patience, what must amass to hours and hours of stories and statistics; you defend him at every turn, in every precinct in every city; when Spencer has a hard time, you refuse to rest until he feels better. The case before this one, the unsub beat you across the face with the handle of his gun, and you leaned out of the ambulance with your eye glued shut to make sure Spencer got anaesthetic before his stitches. You look at him like he's hanging the moon in real time.

"Okay, that's too much," Derek says. Hotch detects a hint of brotherly affection in it, but mostly disgust.

You raise your gaze from Spencer's chest, the breezy smile playing on your lips flattening into a hard line. You send Derek your fiercest glare, him being the first in your line of sight, and Emily gets the shock of her life when you turn and narrow your eyes at her, too.

Emily smiles widely. "Hey, how's it going over there?" she asks.

"Why are you guys looking at me?" you ask.

"You can't guess?" Derek says.

"If I could guess, I wouldn't have asked."

Hotch gives you a disapproving look. Tone it down, Agent.

"I just wanna know what's so interesting," you say, leaning into indifference.

Spencer looks up from his book. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, your tone gentler in a capacity only profilers might notice. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer sits up and your eyebrows pinch down. Hotch wants to save it and he also doesn't get paid enough. Everything works out in the end, he thinks, not believing himself even slightly as he gets up to make a cup of coffee at the back of the jet. Your sullen tones hardly reach him through the curtain and over the sound of the hot water kettle, Spencer's puzzled reassuring even quieter.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Femcel!Reader X Loser!König

Being a non-kissed loser who honestly believes she would never get into a relationships because real men are simply scary and completely unlovable x a guy who thinks that talking about his best kills is a good dating flex. Match made in heaven. No, but seriously - you're intimidated by him at first, getting extremely scared at his awkward and forced attempts at flirting. He might be a bit too direct, especially with his gifts - you just started talking to each other, maybe even on the internet, and the guy already knew your address and sent expensive ass gifts so you could show them to him later...honestly, you're almost flattered. Spending your life believing that no one could ever love you, and then suddenly getting a boyfriend who cherishes your every word and wants to spend actual time with you...yeah, it makes a woman think. And it really makes you wonder exactly what you both can do for the relationships...which kinda results in you moving in almost instantly. You keep telling yourself to slow down - but Konig is just so nice, so cute, so fucking adorable. He steals your panties right in front of you, and you just slip on a new pair for him - something lacy and pink, something with little bows so he could play with it on his sniper missions. This man introduced you to a gun kink and you're not even ashamed to admit that you were fucked by his guns more than one time. Konig knows you're just perfect for him - you're cute, you're shy and reserved, you never had a guy swoon over you like this, and he fucking loves it. You can't even say that he is moving too fast, you're just as into him as he is into you - gods, didn't you just loved him and all of the attention he is giving you.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #loser!konig

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joels-shitty-puns · 1 year ago

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I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type.

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel.

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend.

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet.

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?”

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away.

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up.

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea.

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes.

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.”

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival.

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you.

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling.

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest.

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know.

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy.

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel.

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?”

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched.

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle.

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong.

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?”

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin.

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass.

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss.

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily.

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

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shanastoryteller · 8 months ago

Note

HAPPY PRIDE!!!

Could you, pretty please, write more of the Draco in the muggle world or Draco and the twins take down Voldemort AU?

Love your writings!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

George watches anxiously as Harry closes his eyes and Tori leans over him. He really, really hopes this works. They don't exactly have a backup plan if it doesn't.

Things are uncomfortably silent. He'd imagined this soul sucking business to be a lot more dramatic, but they can't see much under the large hood of Tori's pink robe and neither of them are making a sound.

Then she's drifting back and Harry's blinking rapidly.

"Did it work?" Ron asks anxiously, stepping forward to grab Harry's shoulders and shaking him. "Are you okay? How was it?"

"Wet," Harry says, eyes finally focusing. "I don't feel any different. Wait - my scar doesn't hurt anymore. Does that mean it worked?"

They turn to Tori, who gives a thumbs up. The dull gray of her skin has turned a shimmering silver now that she's consumed each piece of Voldemort's soul. All the dementors that had come to Hogwarts had sickly grey-black skin where it wasn't scabbed over. He wonders if that means they sent starving dementors to a school full of children and what idiot thought that was a good idea.

"Is it over then?" Fred asks uncertainly. "Voldemort's dead? For good?"

They all look towards Voldemort's soulless body that's still passed out on the couch.

Hermione raises her gun. Two shots and a smattering of brain matter later, she says, "Yeah."

"You seriously couldn't have waited to do that?" Draco complains. At least the polyjuice as worn off and he's wearing his own face again. "That settee is from the seventeen hundreds. It's going to take more than scourgify to get that out."

"Um," Harry says. "Okay. Well - should we. Tell someone?"

Draco waves a hand. "Yeah, sure, just leave me out of it."

"Leave you out of it?" Ron repeats incredulously. "You killed Voldemort and you don't even want the credit?"

"Technically, Tori did that - much obliged, Tori," he says, and she gives a bobbing head nod in acknowledgement. "And it was more of a team effort. Besides, no, I have a reputation to maintain if you've forgotten. I wanted Voldemort to stop hitting on my mother, now he won't, so this really doesn't have anything to do with me now." He frowns. "Besides getting the settee cleaned before dad notices. He'll go spare."

George thinks he might be more upset about the dead dark lord, but who knows with the Malfoys. Draco didn't turn out like this out of nowhere.

"You've been working to defeat Voldemort," Hermione says slowly, "because he was flirting with your mother?"

"Like that wouldn't be enough for you," he scoffs.

Ew.

Ron scrunches his face, then says, "Fair enough. But that still doesn't change how we're supposed to, um, handle this."

Draco rolls his eyes. "I'm taking Tori back to the island. You guys figure that out."

"I'll come with you," George says eagerly, dodging Fred's hand when he tries to hold him back. He waits until it's just three of them to ask, "Do you really not have a plan for this part?"

Draco grins at him, wide enough that George can see the dimple on his left cheek. "Let's see what they come up with. I can't be the only one doing the heavy lifting around here."

"Okay," he says, wondering if now that Voldemort's dead, Draco will kiss him.

#that was harry's first kiss rip #could have been worse i suppose #asks #anon #prompt answers #prompts are closed #harry potter

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year ago

Text

Moll

❥ Choi San x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: i've been watching waaaaay too much 1920s drama sooooooo (i went way overboard, i feel liek i wrote a movie)

✃ moll; a mobsters girl, circa 1920s

✫彡wordcount: 6.2k

(✯◡✯)(>ᴗ•)genre: 1920s mafia au, plot heavy smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: mentions of drugs, violence, threatening with a gun(safety was on lol), kidnapping, forced marriage, forced affection, stockholm syndrome, pregnancy, murder(not descriptive at all), NSFW; virginity loss, unprotected (NO DO THAT🫵🏻), possessiveness to the max, breeding kink

not proof read

✩ index: dope; drugs, specifically cocaine or heroin. bent; drunk. bump you off; murder. bearcat; a feisty woman. vamp; an aggressive flirt. flat-tire; a bore. punch the bag; talk. dame, doll, bunny, water-proof; a (attractive) woman. holding a torch; having a crush. get in a lather/ get lathered up; get worked up or angry. skin; condom. get a wiggle on; leave quickly.

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Where's the money?"

"That's all of it! Please, Mister-"

The echoing slap across the room makes you cringe from your hiding place in the pantry. It's nothing new. Your family had been mixed up in all kinds of shenanigans and you had witnessed a great deal of them. But it always hurts when they come back to haunt you.

You cup your hand over your mouth to muffle your scared breath, trying desperately put your mind in a better place. Anywhere but here.

"I gave you more than enough time. Don't you think?"

"Nobodies buying, please Mr. Choi! You have to understand, I tried. I went from corner to corner to corner," your older brother pleads.

He isn't lying either. The drugs that the mafia had provided him to sell- well, they weren't selling. No body had the money. If they did, they only bought the smallest amount and resold it at a higher price.

It wasn't his fault the country was in a depression.

"It- I still have the dope stored away! Just in the back shed, you can have it back! May-maybe someone up North can have better lu-ah!"

A dull thud.

And another.

A crash. Your brothers body hitting the floor no doubt.

"You gon' tell me how to peddle my own product now? I don't think so! Are you bent? Huh?" His voice gets louder with each insult hurled at your brother. "You skim a little of the top, is that it? I oughta bump you off!"

You can't help the small gasp that exits your shaking lips, and you immediately recognize your mistake as it goes silent in the home. Only your brothers ragged breathing and the thrumming of your anxious heart reaching your ears.

"Mr. Ch-"

"Shut your kisser! Who's here with us?"

"N-Nobody! No! No, no, wait-"

Light floods the small room you've sought safety in, and that false sense of security shatters the second you see the man attached to the threatening voice.

He's a cop.

He's got a badge and a gun and authority. He's supposed to be someone safe. Instead, he's got knuckles blooded with your kin and a smirk on his stubbled face.

His wide shoulders block the light, casting his silhouette over you like a storm cloud.

You've cowered into the corner, skirt pulled over your trembling knees as you scoot further away. Wide eyes looking up at him, silently pleading.

"Why you hidin', vamp?"

"Please, Mr.Choi, she don't know from nothing!"

You glance past the man -Mr.Choi- 's neat slacks, and see your brothers face messed with blood, dripping onto the floor from his nose. He's pulling himself up slowly, kneeling on the hardwood.

"Get up," Mr.Choi nods his head at you, and you immediately follow his order, afraid to test his nerves further. "Help this goof up." You lower your head, slowly approaching the man who stays in the doorway. "Now, we ain't got all day!"

You rush past him and kneel, wrapping your arms under his and pulling him up with a grimace, "c'mon, Bub, get up."

The man watches you heave him up, leaning against the wall with his hand on his hip holster in case you decide to get brave. "Bub's done got you mixed up in something real risky, girl. What do you know?"

"Don't know nothin', Mister. Mind my own." You feign some semblance of calm. You lower your brother onto a chair, and he nearly falls onto the dinner table before you catch his head. "You had to knock him on the head?"

He chuckles, slowly stalking around the room, "don't get mouthy, Bearcat." He takes a seat at the head of the table, pointing to the chair opposite of him. "Sit."

You lower his dizzy head to rest on the table before taking the seat he pointed to, folding your hands in your lap and lowering your head. "I never touched your dope, I don't mess with that."

He slowly places his gun on the table, fingers lingering over it. He studies you- eyes never leaving. "How much of the beans has he spilled to you?"

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Oh, sure."

You look up, and you regret floods your veins. He's sizing you up. Face completely void of emotion. Shoulders slack and relaxed like he isn't ready to shoot you at a moments notice. "Punch the bag, now. Before I shoot off your Bubs knee cap." He cocks his gun.

"Okay! Okay, listen-" you gulp, looking back down, "all he's ever told me is that he gets some products and sells them, gives you the money and you give him a cut. That's it! That's all I know, really. Don't know where you get it or nothin'. I can keep my trap shut."

"You don't go to the corners with him?"

"Nev-"

"If I show your face at the station, nobody gonna recognize you?"

"No," you look up again, "everyone knows I'm a good girl, Officer."

He lets out an amused chuckle, rubbing his brow. "You tugging my leg?"

"No. I'm not a drug peddler. I'm a secretary. I volunteer at the soup kitchen. I babysit-"

Your anxious babbling to get yourself out of your brothers trouble is interrupted when Mr.Choi, suddenly behind you, grips the back of your neck and pushes your head to the table. Your eyes meet your brothers drowsy ones, tears quickly filling up in both. "Please, she's tellin' the truth! I ain't even tell her I was selling till you called last minute! She's innocent!"

"I don't like liars!" He shouts, making you jump under his harsh grip, "I asked you if we were alone the moment I walked in this dump! You're a little sneak, aye? How do I know you didn't hide her to gather intel on me? Get me fired and kicked out? Get yourself a little raise? How do I know she's even your sister? She could be a snake! Tell me the truth, now!"

The cool metal of his gun touches your temple, and the sobs you've been holding back fall out of your lips loudly. "Bub, tell him!"

"Tell me, Bub!" He mocks you, pressing the barrel deeper into the back of your head.

"That's the truth! I sell your dope by myself and she doesn't know nothing about it! Please, she's all I have!" He's growing more and more frantic, head heavy as he lifts it to look Mr.Choi in the eyes, "I'll find a way! I'll go up North myself, I-I'll take a dimebox to Iafeild o-or," he himself is crying now, watching helplessly as he tugs you out of your chair. "Please, she's all I have!"

He pushes you to the floor and watches you scramble, kicking your knees out from under you, albeit gently, it makes you fall face first. He lowers himself in a squat, watching you with a certain amusement you curl up on yourself. "Well why didn't you just say so!" He clips his gun back on his hip and smirks as you both let out a sigh of relief.

Mr.Choi doesn't leave just yet, however.

He straddles your back and flips you over, gripping your chin as it trembles. Pulls your face close to his and inspects you. Your tears wet his fingers. "Hmm, can't blame me for being suspicious. She's water-proof and you," he looks over at the table and chuckles, "well you're just a dog."

He stands and extends his hand for you, rolling his eyes as you ignore it. "Get up, Doll." He groans, pulling you to your feet, "go pack a bag."

"W-"

"She's not goin' with you," your brothers brief bravery is shut down the second the copper reaches for his gun again, "I- I mean why?"

"You," Mr.Choi points to him, "are gonna go to Iafeild and sell all of the shit I gave you like you should have done two months ago. And she," he wraps his arm around your shoulders with a cocky grin, "is gonna be your encouragement to get me my money. If you aren't back with all of it in... three weeks, say? Little sis' here is gonna take the big sleep." He ignores you as you cry harder, simply glaring at your brother. "Capiche?"

He nods frantically, looking away as you look to him with pleading eyes. There's nothing he can do. This is bigger than him. He's got messed up with the wrong crowds and now you have to pay the price as well.

"Put a pep in your step, clock starts tonight."

❦

He opens the car door, watching silently as you peek your head out before your body follows.

You clutch your bag close to your chest, still sniffling and sobbing quietly. Your kitten heels click on the cement, messed curls blowing with the October winds.

"Follow me," he guides you by the small of your back, shockingly gentle with your shaking form. "Don't pull any tricks, Doll." He leads you up the stairs of the secluded farm house, opening up the screen door and ushering you in.

"San, Finally!" A voice booms from inside the home, making you squeak. When you turn to go back out the door, you collide with Mr.Choi, who you gather must be San, 's chest. "Was starting to think- oh! Who's the dame?"

"This," he turns you by your shoulders and tilts your head up to face the man who's descending the stairs, "is Mr. (L/n)'s sister. She's staying for a bit while her brother sorts out some business upstate." You can almost feel his smirk in the way he speaks.

The other man, who's finally come face to face with you, seems a great deal less threatening than San.

"Tsk," he rolls his eyes at San, "sure thing, fella. You just went and found yourself a Moll."

"A Moll? Sure, she's cute but she seems a bit flat-tire, no? Not exactly the type of woman I go for."

"She's exactly the type you go for, you're trying to get her in the bag! Lost bunny is your type."

"Oh, take a hike, Hwa!"

You go back and forth looking at them in confusion as they bicker, hugging your bag to your chest tightly. You don't know what a 'Moll' is but you do know you don't want to be Mr. Chois. You simply tune them out and stare at the floor blanky, tears still flowing.

"If you're not holding a torch, why didn't you kill him like we planned?"

"Well-" His words die on his tongue as he looks over at you. You do look like a lost bunny. Making yourself small between them and letting your tears flow as a defense mechanism. He won't admit it, especially aloud. But you are exactly the woman he's been looking for. "Oh, hell," he pulls a blue handkerchief from his pocket and shoves it into your hand, "stop crying so much. Not gonna hurt you."

Very hard to believe after his threats, but you try your hardest to stop the onslaught of warm tears. You wipe your face with the fabric and sniffle quietly, coming back to your own body as Seonghwa extends his hand slowly.

"I'm Seonghwa, 'can call me Hwa if you like. I'll be lookin' after you when San here is busy. Let's get along well."

You shake his hand gently and croak out a simple, "(Y/n)."

❦

The rest of the day passed quickly, locked up in a bedroom while San and Hwa could still be heard downstairs, which only served to add to your anxieties. It felt as if at any second they would change their mind and come up to bump you off.

You busied yourself doing what San told you to before he locked the door behind him. 'Unpack and get cozy.' Though that latter wasn't as easy as hanging your few dresses in the oak closet and putting your hairbrush in the nightstand, awkwardly placing your products in the corner of the attached bathroom. Especially after you pieced things together.

There was an array of suits and slacks hanging in the closet. Shiny loafers on the floor. A clip of bullets in the nightstand. A roll of condoms. A stash of cash in a duffle bag on the hook behind the door. A pack of cigarettes and matches on the window sill. A bottle of cologne that smelled suspiciously like Mr. Chois car.

This was Sans room they had locked you in.

You had long took a seat on the windowsill and dangled your legs out of it, debating how badly it would hurt if you decided to fall and try to make a run for it. You came to the conclusion that it was useless. It took fourty minutes to get here from the city. The last home you passed being 20 of those away.

The lock on the door clinked loudly, and it opened slowly. You turned and looked over your shoulder, and it wasn't a surprise that San was the one you faced.

"Hungry, Doll?" He shuts the door with his foot as he carefully enters with a plate in hand. He doesn't seem alarmed by your hazardous seating choice, probably because he doesn't take you for a fool that will break their ankles trying to jump from the third story.

"No," you mutter, turning back around and facing the setting sun without another word or pleasantry his way.

"Don't let it get cold, I reheated it just for you."

"Too bad. Not hungry."

He comes behind you and rests his palms on either side of your hips, chest pressing to your back as he looks out at natures expanse. "Pretty, ain't it?"

When he doesn't get anything resembling a response, he tries again. "It's my own property. Worked in that barn everyday until I became a cop."

He's met with silence. "Plan to share it with my wife one day."

Nothing. "I know you think I'm a monster but I am just a man."

"A man who had a gun to my head..."

"A man who's just trying to survive a war and a pandemic. You'll get that one day. I don't mean no harm until harm comes for me."

A silence washes over you both for a moment.

"Will you shoot me if my brother doesn't sell all your dope?"

"No."

And again. His soft breath, your anxious ones.

"Then why am I here?"

It's his turn to be silent. He backs away from you and sits on the bed, watching you as you sit still like a statue. You watch the sun disappear like a motion picture of art. A certain peace overcoming you for the briefest moment.

"Because you will be that wife that I share with."

And peace shattered by Choi San once again.

You head snaps in his direction, falling back into the house from the windowsill with a thud. You both stare at one another. San stares with an unreadable expression. Yours of pure horror and confusion. "What?!"

"I'll drop business with your brother for good. Clear all his debt with the boys. Give him all of the cash he gets from this last... adventure. He'll be well off and so will you. I'll make a good, honest woman of you."

"Y-" Yours brain is officially thrown into a panic, an overdrive of emotions, and it all tumbles out before you can stop it. "You have to be off your rocker! You're insane! I already am a good, honest woman! Go chase yourself, I'm not marrying you- you- what? No! No!"

"You 'aven't got much choice in the matter, Doll. Don't get yourself in a lather."

"Don't get- oh, I am lathered up, Mr.Choi! I oughta smack some sense into you, demanding a girls hand in marriage like it's still 1890! It's nineteen-twen-"

He smacks the sense into you before you can to him.

"Oh God," you sob, holding your stinging cheek as tears build up in your waterline. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," you lower your head. Thinking, surely, you just dug your own grave. "Please-"

"This is exactly why I chose you," he crouches in-front of your crumpled form and tilts your head up, "a dame who appears like a lost bunny but has the soul of a beast."

You simply stare up at him, deathly afraid to move or speak in fear of letting your anger and sadness slip again.

"Got somethin' to say?"

You gulp before nodding your head in his hold.

"Go on."

"I don't w-want to marry a mobster... I don't want to be involved with dirty money! A corrupt copper..."

He chuckles softly, rubbing his thumb over your untainted cheek. "You should be thanking me, Doll... That dirty money? Been putting a roof over your head for three years. Corrupt copper? Well, he even had the decency to have the safety on his gun while pointing it at your pretty head. Mobster? Willing to put a ring on your finger and give you a nice home."

The tears start free falling as your situation fully sinks in. There really is no way out. You'll end up in the ground if you don't let him put a ring on it.

"So, I'll say it again," he grips the back of your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, "you should be thankin' me."

"T-thank you."

"Attagirl," he lets go of you completely, letting you fall back to the floor, "now eat."

❦

He let you be that night, and you didn't see him the next morning either. It was Seonghwa who came to the door, and you didn't know if you should feel relieved or not.

"Hey, Miss," He spoke softly, staying just outside of the doorway. "I heard what happened... I'm sorry."

He seemed genuine enough. You sat down your hairbrush and turned on the small stool. Your eyes puffy and red from the lifetimes worth of crying you did last night.

"Uhm, so San wants us to go to town and pick out some fabrics for your weddin' gown. If you aren't up for it, I can pick them out myself."

"Will he be going with us?"

"No, just you and I."

You were sick and tired of smelling San every time you tried to take a deep breath, and that's how you ended up here.

It's less overwhelming than being in that farmhouse that seems to be your prison for now and for forever to come. But overwhelming nonetheless.

Hwa is talkative. But you don't mind. He treats you well. Like an equal. He doesn't talk down to you like many men do. And that, you very much appreciate.

He tells you of how he feels it's unfair you have no saying in your future, his heart is heavy with sadness that he cannot help you. And he tells that to your face. He will not help you. He is loyal to San. But that doesn't mean you can't be friends.

You seem to share life stories with one another the entire car ride there. And then he already feels like an old friend as he holds up fabrics to your skin to see which compliments you best. You, admittedly, aren't as into it as he is. As much as a bride should be. But then, how could you when you were picking things out for the day that would solidify your future with a mobster?

You both settle on one that, you will admit, made your heart flutter when you imagined yourself in. And then you're on your way, but Seonghwa stops the vehicle halfway through town.

"What are we doing?" You look out of the window and your heart stops in your chest as you see that he's parked infront of the police station. "No, Hwa! You promised I wouldn't have to see him."

"I'm sorry, Miss (Y/n)... he said he wanted to see what you picked afterwards. It will be quick."

You take a few deep breaths without San's cologne smothering you, then you swing the door open and follow after Hwa.

Sans broad shoulders aren't hard to pinpoint in the semi-packed station. "Ah, my beautiful fiancée!" He perks up immediately as he spots you and his friend.

What he does next absolutely floors you.

He cups both of your cheeks, and kisses you deeply. Right out in the open. Hot lips on yours.

You grip his wrists, face flushed with heat as he pulls away, bending down slightly to rest his forehead on yours. "Did you pick a pretty fabric for our special day?"

The look in his eyes seems almost innocent from far away. He's already got everyone in the room convinced that you're a willing participant of this relationship. But you, up close and personal, can see the glint of silent threats in his eyes- telling you to keep up the act or face the consequences.

"Uhm, uh-huh," you move slight to the side and look to Hwa, who's head is down slightly for a spilt second before he smiles at you and San and holds out the roll of fabric.

"Oh, Doll, what a good choice! No doubt you will look jaw-dropping," he runs his fingers over the fabric, imaging the pure beauty that you will be. "You'll make it extra good, right, Hwa? Only the best for my girl."

" 'Course, San. We're gonna work on some sketches when we get home." His smile is genuine, like he looks forward to it.

"Officer Choi! Hate to interrupt but we got a hold-em-up at the bank," another officer passes in a hurry, stopping briefly to congratulate you both.

"Ah," he clicks his tongue, rubbing his hands on your side gently, "wish me luck?"

"Good luck..." He looks like he's waiting for more. You gulp and force a smile, almost gagging on the words you conjure up, "good luck, Baby."

❦

The days after that first one passed almost like groundhog day. You awoke with San nearly laid ontop of you. Bathed and made breakfast. Worked with Hwa on your gown until it was completed. Walked around the farm and conversed with the farm-hand. Cooked and had a semi-awkward dinner with the three of them. Talked and became closer with San, slowly becoming happier with your situation.

And then all too suddenly...

It's two days short of three weeks since you've been 'brought home', as San likes to say. Which means one very big thing.

You are to be married.

It's a small affair, but beautiful nonetheless.

You can quickly tell that only one side of San's life is invited. There is not a badge to be seen as you peer out of the window, only gangster after gangster taking their seat.

Hwa finishes buttoning up your gown and steps back, smiling at you like a proud family member. "Ready, Miss?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Hwa walks you down the aisle.

And then it's a blur.

How did your get back in your bedroom? Was the ceremony already over?

It seems to have happened in a flash.

You stand infront of the window again. All of the guests have either left or have taken up in one of the many guest rooms in the home. San no doubt offered them up so that he could have witness to what was about to happen.

Your wedding night. Oh, how special and magical a day.

San slides his hands up your back, landing on your tall collar and skillfully unbuttoning it. Slowly, almost teasingly. His words send a shiver down your spine, they set your hairs on edge: "you are so beautiful, my Dear... it took everything in me not to take you right there in the aisle. I've never wanted anyone, or anything, as badly as I want you."

Your breath hitches in your throat as his soft lips come in contact with your now exposed neck. It not the first time he's left adoring kisses on your body. But somehow it feels different as husband and wife. "San..."

"Yes, Doll?"

"I... I'm a virgin."

"I know, Doll. Tell me to stop and I shall, but... I want to make you feel good like only a husband can. I want to show you my love in physical form." His hands slide into the now open back of your dress, around to your breasts. "Only I can touch you. Only you can touch me. Do you understand that?"

A breathless 'yes' trembles out of your lips as he cups your bosom. The little moan that follows has his hard member throbbing, so ready to finally claim you. He presses it to the round of your ass, and you have to hold back a gasp, simply letting your mouth gape as you look out at the dark night sky. But when his calloused finger tips roll over your hardened nipples, you can't bite back the curse of pleasure that bubbles in your throat.

"Oh, you poor bunny," he whispers in your ear, "you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." The warmth of him slowly dissipates, and the tell-tale sound of the stool in the room dragging on the floor makes you turn around. "Drop your gown, let me see my wife in her full glory."

Heat burns on your cheeks, of embarrassment or arousal you can't quite tell at the moment. He's shed his fanciest uniform jacket and is now working on his button up, his cock straining against his slacks.

"You ever seen a man's prick?" He smirks as he catches you staring. Your eyes don't leave his lap as you take off your white kitten heels. That is, until he calls you out.

"No," your eyes drop to the ground as you neatly arrange your shoes, "never..."

"Mine will be the first? Mm, first and only," he half hazardly tosses his shirt, leaving his chest bare. Scars and toned muscle on full display for you. "Catch up, Dollface."

You step out of your gown carefully, holding it to your chest to hide yourself. "What if I'm not... pretty enough?"

"Oh, my wife can't possibly disappoint. I've seen that silhouette while you shower." He tilts his head and smiles, a soft smile. "You'll be my first as well."

You swear your eyes have bugged out of your head the way he chuckles at your expression. "Really?"

He stands, gently unraveling your fingers tight grip on the white fabrics. "Really, and I don't want to wait any longer. I want it to be with you. It will be with you." You let him take the fabric, and he drapes it on the stool carefully without ever taking his eyes off of you.

"W-what about the skins in our drawer?"

"So I don't make a mess while I fuck myself thinking about all of the dirty things I want to do with my wife."

"Oh-" You swear you're running a fever. You've never felt this way before- but then, you imagine you'll be feeling many firsts tonight.

"Would you like to hear about them?" He grins, his signature shit-eating-grin, as he guides your hands to his belt. You fiddle with it with a small nod, slowly pulling it off of him as he speaks. "I've got you laid down on our bed, legs spread..." You unbutton his slacks. "Touching, exploring what's mine." His zipper is undone next. "I take my time, make you nice and wet." His bottoms are gone. "I hold your hands." His boxers go after them. "And then I fuck you on my cock."

And he did exactly that. That's how you got here.

Hours of teasing later, his member is finally buried inside of you, stretching you like your fingers never could. He interlocks his fingers with yours as his hips withdrawn. Squeezes your hands tightly as he slowly sinks back in.

"Oh God," you whisper, heels digging into the mattress as you arch beneath his built frame, "ah, Sannie."

His hips stutter, mind overheating as the nickname reaches him. You feel... oh, you feel amazing. Like heaven on Earth. Your gummy, warm walls suck him in, so wet and inviting. He wants to bury himself in your cunt and never leave. "Fuck, Bunny, you feel fucking godly."

Only a moan is his response, your head tossed to the side in embarrassment. "D-don't stop," you pant, squeezing his hands tighter as you gather the courage to- "please go faster." Oh, nevermind. Your mind has left and only your pussy's logic remains. And it's logic is- "Sannie, faster!"

His thick, veiny shaft feels otherworldly as it drags against you. You need more. And he is happy to oblige. He quickens his pace, keeping his strokes languid and tender so as not to hurt you. But by God, he goes faster.

"Ah! Ah, my God!" You cry into the night, uncaring as your pleasure echoes in the houses thin walls.

Your noises, your facial expressions, your divine warmth around him. San feels that familiar coil tighten quickly, winding up. "Fuck, (Y/n), I'm gonna bust," he bites his lip, a loud moan vibrating his chest.

"C-close, I'm close, Sannie," you squeeze his fingers in yours, looking up beggingly, "please don't stop, ah- ah! Just like that! Nngh!" Your eyes roll back into your head, cunt clenching down on him like a vice, a gush of heat tells him you've just came around him, so he no longer holds back.

He hooks one of his legs around yours and pushes himself deeper than before, making you yell out in overstimulated ecstasy. And that primal yelp as he buries himself as deep as possible sends him over the edge, coil in his gut not only snapping- but burning to ash as he fills your womb with his release. "Fuck, fuck," he whines, rutting into you unable to move as your core clenches more than ever, refusing to let him go. "Mine," he growls out, leaning down and colliding his lips with yours passionately.

Your body goes limp beneath him, your soft breaths fanning against his sweaty face as he pulls away from the kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly and your jelly like arms wrap around his broad shoulders. "Mine, all fuckin' mine," he lowers his weight onto you slowly, and it makes his hard cock feel heavier than before. He ignores your whiny moans, resting his head on your chest. "My wife, filled with my seed. Mine, mine, mine," with each of his possessive proclamations comes a thrust of his hips. "Say it, say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whimper under his weight, blissed out beyond belief and in shock that -despite having filled you less than five minutes ago- he is already rock hard again and thrusting into you, slowly building his speed back up.

"Louder," he demands, head pressed firmly to your chest and listening intently to your drumming heart beat.

"I'm yours," you speak more confidently.

"Louder," his pace has passed where you reached before, he's nearly drilling you with his cock.

"Ah! Fuck!" You screech, nails digging into his skin, legs wrapping around his wildly thrusting hips instinctively.

"Say it," his voice rumbles on your chest, sending vibrations through you as his thrust shake the bed, "fucking say it, tell everyone who you belong to."

"I'm yours, San! Oh! San! Sannie! Baby!" Your brain has shut down, you're putty in his arms, babbling loudly. "Cumming!" You can't help but announce it to the farm, your pleasure has set you ablaze and everything is pointless besides San.

He follows shortly after, his second release flooding your stretched walls and pushing his first out, making a mess of your sheets and pelvises.

When he doesn't show any sign of slowing, you slap his shoulders repeatedly and let out a loud whine. He stills deep inside of you and pants into your chest, cock still throbbing inside of you.

He's become insatiable.

"Break, please," you slur, hands finding purchase in his disheveled hair. He melts into the drunken affection, eyes peering up at you with love and adoration... obsession in the comfort of your own home.

He slowly pulls out of you, watching in awe as the pearly white of his love seeps out of you. He rubs your thighs in a soothing manner, taking a moment to catch his own breath.

"D...do you feel good?" He looks up, almost like a lost puppy. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"God, yes," you smile at him dopily, propping yourself up on your elbows with a groan. He sits back, immediately locking his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. His scent blankets you, and you welcome it. Taking a deep breath.

His member is messy with a mix of your juices, resting against your lower belly like it knows that's where it belongs. Showing you both how deep he reaches.

The sight alone lights the fire in you again, now just as insatiable as he is.

"I love you." The words that slip past your swollen lips shock the both of you, eyes meeting in an instant.

The crickets outside chirp their song, stars and moon casting light through the window. A shooting star flies by.

"I love you."

❦

There's a knock at the door. Strange. Anyone who needs in can get in. You trot down the stairs and stop halfway as your eyes meet your brothers through the screen door. "Bub?" You nearly trip over your feet as you jump down the rest of the steps, slinging the door open and wrapping your arms around him tightly. It been long past those three weeks San have him. Almost a year past.

"Bub! Bubby!" He spins you around in his arms, nearly falling off of the porch.

"Oh, thank God! You're alive!" Both of you have wide smiles, blissfully unaware as San turns the corner in his farming overalls. "Let's get a wiggle on, before Mr.Choi knows I'm here." San stops in his tracks, eyes trained on you.

"Oh... Bub."

"Let's get, c'mon." He goes to drag you by your arm to the awaiting car.

"Stop! I'm not going with you."

A smirk grows on Sans as a frown grows on your brothers. "N-not going? Don't be silly!"

"Let go of me," you slap his hand away and when your hand falls back to your side, that's when he sees it.

Your belly. Swollen with child.

"(Y/n)..."

You wrap your hands around your stomach protectively as his concerned look turns to a glare. "D-did he rape you? Dear Lord," his hand flies to his mouth in shock.

"What!? No, no, nothing of the sort. San and-"

"Hurry, before he gets back."

"Before who gets back?" San grins wide as he joins your side, wrapping his arm around you and purposefully showing off the ring on his finger. "Long time, no see... Bub."

His face so that of a ghost, backing away until he hits Hwa, who forces him to kneel.

"You really left your poor helpless sister for dead?" The words that San speaks knocks the reality back into you. He did leave you. You'd been so happy with your new life that you'd forgotten entirely about what lead up to it. "I doubt you've even got my cash, huh?"

"Mister, please! Surely you've forgiven me?"

"I don't hold grudges... my wife is a different story, however." He turns to you with an innocent smile. "Honey?"

"Sissy... Tell me you didn't."

"I did." You dead pan. "You left me!" You land a slap harshly across his cheek. "Bastard!"

"Alright, Miss, don't put too much stress on the baby-" Hwa tries to calm you, but you've already gone off the deep end after being reminded of your life before San.

"I hate you!! You left me all alone! You threw me to the wolves! Where were you?!"

"Sis, just- just come home, you aren't thinking straight."

The cicada chirp loudly, nearly drowning out your next words.

"This is home. This is all I have. This is all I want."

"Sis, what has he-" Tears are welling up in your brothers eyes. And it pisses you off.

"I hate you! I never want to see you again, I hate your coward guts!"

San squeezes your shoulder gently and it brings you back to reality. Your brother is shaking as all of the realizations come crashing down on him. Hwa knows what's about to happen, he and San have talked about it a million times. He takes the gun from his belt and hands it over.

"My Moll has spoken."

Bang.

❦

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fic #choi san smau #choi san x reader #choi san #choi san smut #smut fic

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hotchfiles · 1 year ago

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❝ [IN THIS HOUSE OF MINE] ❞ — a 'cuz you're a natural sequel ; MDNI!

pairing: aaron hotchner x rossi!reader. summary: he vowed not to make a move on you, he never promised not to reciprocate yours. content warnings: yeah this one's smutty. fingering. oral (f! receiving). unprotected p in v. foul language. age-gap if you read part one. not proof read. 18+. MDNI. word count: 1,6k. a/n: i'm not a smut writer, hotch just fucks up my brain chemistry.

It's late when Aaron gets home, you shouldn't know that because you shouldn't be there. You had made him the favor of watching over Jack while Jessica had some medical appointments. You didn't mind, Jack was a good boy and the place smelled like Hotch. He told you it was only for a few hours and as soon as she picked Jack up, you could leave.

But you didn't, you stayed, and you waited. And almost scared him to death as he noticed the front door unlocked, hand going straight for his gun, a loud sigh of relief when he noticed it was just you. "Why're you still here? It's late."

You kneed on the couch, looking at him as he put his keys and suitcase over the table. "Want me to make an excuse? Lie?" You ask, completely straightforward, the time for the little games, the hunt, the flirting... Put behind you the moment he showed you interest weeks before. You were just waiting for the right moment, and there it was, presented to you on a silver platter.

He wasn't necessarily speechless, but rather weighting his options, debating the outcomes of each of his answers. He vowed to himself to not make a move on you, to not act on it. But there you were, on his house, knees to his couch, eyes glued on him. He glances your lips for few seconds, licking his own in the process. "I don't do lies."

Now you're the one thinking about your answer, how crass should you be? Should you tell him you're there still because you want to see him? To touch him? To hear him? Or should you be a bit more daring? Show him you're not playing games...

He's still some steps away from you, you're still in control, your voice won't crack, you're breathing completely fine, so you decide to use that in your favor while you can, going for the last option, "I'm still here because I want you to fuck me."

Aaron is a bit taken aback by the weight of your choice of words, but he's still him, so he only sighs, his thumb and middle finger going to his eyes, as if he was dealing with some sort of nuisance and not a gorgeous, fun and bold young woman ready to give him everything he craves and needs so much.

His hesitance should stop you, but it makes you feel like a fucking winner. He could've denied you right away. He could've been shocked, appalled. But he was neither and that makes you get out of the couch, closing the distance between your body and his, your glance up to him was challenging, defiant almost. "Agent Hotchner, you don't do lies. Tell me you don't want this and I'll leave."

Is he more aroused by the way you call him agent or by the fact he just doesn't know if you're bluffing or not? Aaron's not sure, but he's been so starved of the sort of attention you're giving him and he's so tired he can't fight his hunger anymore, he pushes you to the nearest wall as his reply, one of his hands pulls one of your legs up, placing it around his waist, the other pulls your lips to him by your neck.

The kiss is rough, harsh, he easily dominates you with it, stealing pants from you that it usually takes men a lot more to get, but you're not about to give him all the control, you were the one to go after him after all, so you sink your teeth to his bottom lip until you feel the taste of metal and Aaron moans, breaking the kiss to throw his head back, his cock hardening against his clothes. Against you.

Not that he was expecting you to be completely submissive under his touch, but your boldness was a surprise that kept on giving, you pushed him off of you, walking slowly towards his bedroom as you took each piece of clothing you were wearing off of your body, making a trail of it he gladly followed.

By the time you both get to his bedroom, only your panties are left and you lay on his bed, offering yourself for him to take. Aaron loudly groans, his shoes and his pants following the fate of your own before hovering your body, knee between your thighs giving you the friction you so desperately need. He should ask if you're sure about this, he should remind you of the consequences this could entail. He's usually so much better than this, so much more careful, but the second your hips move trying to get more from him and the moan escapes your throat the only words that leave his are not even close to what he should, "Gonna be the death of me, dear." You're glad he still has his shirt and tie on as you pull him to you with it, leaving to him to set up the pace of the kiss.

It was messy and greedy, his tongue took turns between exploring your mouth and leaving trails of saliva in between your shoulders and your chin, his hands were not much better, from your breasts to your waist, from your waist to your thighs and back to your breasts, rubbing your nipple harshly, making you squirm under him.

It doesn't take long for him to get you out of your last piece of clothing, his shirt and tie along with it, you sigh in disappointment, he could've left the tie, but you can't dwell on it much when he makes you fold up your legs and gives your folds that first slow, torturous swipe of his tongue. Your back arches and your hips buckle as he works you up, you find the only way to keep your body steady is to tug on his hair and grip on the pillow behind your head.

He's good, oh, he's so good, you can't even praise him properly, your brain going completely numb with pleasure, your voice being able to only whine his name and ask him for more, please, and he's not denying you anything as he inserts his thumb on your already slick hole, his tongue not leaving your clit, only changing paces and movements until he noticed which one made you writhe the most, your moaning getting more high pitched as you felt that known feeling of impending orgasm forming.

Aaron replaces his thumb with his middle finger and his tongue with his thumb, wanting to be closer to you, looking deep inside your eyes as you came undone for him, he kept his pace, observing your reactions, the way your hips moved trying to close your thighs on him, how your hands gripped the sheets. A thought of something he hasn't felt in a while passes through him and he tells you to move your hand to his shoulder, to his back. "Mark me." It's a demand, and you gladly oblige, sinking your nails to his flesh, scratching him and using his skin as an anchor as you started seeing white, the fastest and hardest orgasm a man has ever given you.

He helps you ride your high down, only moving his hand away when you were overstimulated by it, he sucks on his middle finger first and then inserts his thumb in your mouth so you can do the same, "Got what you stayed for?" He teases, and your hands go straight to his boxers, pulling it down so you can touch his stiff cock, already glistening with his precum.

"Not yet, agent." Your thumb barely touches his tip and he's sighing, eyes closed and lips between his own teeth to hold himself. He wants to push your head, feel your defiant mouth around him, but he hopes for another time as he takes your hand off of him, quickly and awkwardly getting his boxers completely out of his body.

Aaron positions himself between your legs, tapping your thigh as a command so you wrap them around his waist, he pumps himself two more times and shoves his cock into you, fully, no warning, earning a gasp from your lips and more scars on his back. It takes a second for you to adjust but it's not painful, sooner than he expects you're using your legs to push him deeper, to move.

You purposefully clench around his length, wanting nothing more than to see his face contort in pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him. Even if it causes him to last less, you want him to lose it, to throw his self control out the window.

He's about to tell you that he won't last if you keep doing it, but he sees your intentions clear as day by the lust in your eyes, your lips parted observing how gorgeous he looked panting, sweating for you. It makes him pick up his pace, faster and hitting harder that spot that makes you cry out his name, touching your forehead with his as he reached for his own peak. Letting out a low lingering fuck as he did so, the way his pubes hit your clit along with his pace enough to tip you over the edge once more that night.

Normally he would offer a bath once he's out of you, his seed dripping to your thighs, but he's too tired and sleepy so he just pulls you into his arms, his face nuzzling into your neck. You don't complain, wanting to enjoy this moment of proximity, hoping it wouldn't be the last.

Aaron hopes the same.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #aaron hotch smut

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phoward89 · 10 months ago

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Dealer!Coryo x Reader

Weed, drugs, guns, cussing, fighting, parties, Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, p in v, degradation, overstimulation, breeding kink, Dom!Coryo, Bratty!Reader, um that's bout it

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2:

Coriolanus swore that he was cutting you loose, but that didn't happen. Well, it happened for exactly 2 weeks, but then he walked into a party on the right side of town (Capitol Estates- a high end gated community full of super rich people. The Plinths tried to buy in the development, but the HOA didn't think the family was a good fit since they moved to Panem, Colorado from Dos, New Mexico roughly a decade back. Stuck up HOA bastards) with the intention to deal to some dumbass rich kids only to see your ex with you.

Wasn't Odysseus Odair supposed to be in California right now? What the ever loving fucking hell is he doing here flirting with you; giving you his charming manwhore smile? After seeing that, well, the dealer knew that he had to protect you from that motherfucker. He also felt jealous and very, very possessive of you.

Snow's possessiveness over you was primal. Almost caveman like in a way. Fuck! He just wants to toss you over his shoulder and yell for all to hear that you're off limits. That none of these dickweeds here are good enough for you.

So, without giving it a second thought, he went up to you. Slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, he tilted his head and growled at your ex, “Back off, Odair, she's with me.”

“Oh, really?” Odysseus laughed, not looking convinced.

Craning your neck to look at Coryo, you ask, “What're you doing here?”

Giving you a hard look, icy eyes cold with anger, Coriolanus retorted in a dry, deep baritone, “Working, what're you doing letting your manwhore ex push up on you?”

“We're talking, Snowball. That's all.” You assure your dealer. You want to roll your eyes at how he's acting, but don't. You know he's worried about your ex wooing you back, but he's got nothing to worry about.

But try telling him that.

“Yea, Snowball,” Odysseus mocked, his voice over exaggerated with a saccharine syrupy tone. “we’re talking so why don't you go off and sell some drugs.” With a provoking smirk, he jeered, “Isn't that what you do, being a drug dealer and all?”

What the hell? Does your ex have a death wish? Doesn't he remember how Coryo beat the ever loving shit out of him for cheating on you. Odysseus can't be that stupid, can he? You know the man with sea-green eyes is a pretty boy, but he has to have a brain underneath all that bronze hair, right?

“Snow, this peacock giving you trouble ‘bout your girl?” Sejanus asked, coming up on the scene. Festus was next to him, already half drunk and high, and was giving Odysseus a nasty look.

Great, now Coriolanus’ dealer buddies have come to back him up. Great…the last thing you need is to be caught in the middle of a fight cause your dealer’s acting like a jealous asshole right now.

“Yea, Plinth.” Snow tells the broad bear of a man that he considers a friend. No, a brother. “Fucking manwhore thinks he can dis me; push up on what's mine too.”

Oh Jesus…what the hell's going on?! Since when are you Snowball's? As of two weeks ago he said he wanted to stop hooking up; told you he'd do weed exchanges at your house- that you guys can't keep fucking in his apartment.

Mhm…

And now the motherfucker’s being crazy possessive and jealous cause he saw you talking to somebody at a party. Okay, it was your ex…but still…

“You better not piss on what belongs to Snow. Might get shot.” Festus advises Odysseus, taking a drag off his joint before passing it over to you with a pointed look. It's as if he knows you're going to need all the loosening up and relaxing tonight that you can get.

Coryo grabs the joint from Festus and passes it to you before lifting his arm from your shoulder and getting up into Odysseus’ face. Oh shit! This ain't good!

This ain't good at all!

Coriolanus gives Odysseus a hard look with his icy blue eyes while telling him in a sharp, threatening tone that oozed danger, “If you value your useless, fucking life I advise you to leave and not come back.”

“You think I'm dumb enough to come to this party without having friends here? Oh, Snowball, maybe you should lay off that coke you sell.” Odysseus taunts your dealer with the platinum buzz cut. Looking over his shoulder, your ex calls out, “Vinny, Hector! Gotta Snow problem!”

“Coryo, leave him alone.” You tell the tall blonde while reaching out to grab his arm. “Please, Coryo, let's just get outta here.” You plead as Livinius Cardew and Hector Heavensbee, two rich but very rough customers when it came to booze and dope, crawled out of the woodwork and appeared on either side of Odysseus.

Looking at you over his shoulder, Coriolanus gritted thru his teeth, “Don't call me that right now, baby.”

Festus snatched his joint back from you, since you're too busy trying to keep Coriolanus from fighting instead of smoking.

“Please, let's just go. I don't want you getting hurt or tossed into jail tonight.” You beg your dealer fuck buddy while tightly holding onto his arm and trying to tug him away from the three men that he's about to get into a throw down with.

Coriolanus wanted to strangle you right now. He's trying to take care of business and you're begging him to leave. Fuck, if he leaves with you he'll look weak. He can't afford to look weak. He's a drug dealer; it'll screw up his street cred.

Yep. You're his weakness. But he can't afford to show it.

Yanking his arm free from your hold, he tells you, “Go wait by my car.”

“Cor-” You begin to protest, only to be cut off by his deep baritone loudly snapping, “Bitch, I said go wait by my fucking car!”

“Fuck you, Snow.” You spit in his face, causing everyone crowded around to let out a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘dayumns’, before pivoting and storming off.

And you meant it, fuck him. Coriolanus can do whatever he wants. Bastard wants to call you a bitch and disrespect you all cause he needs his fucking street cred, then fine. So be it. But you're not sticking around or waiting by his car.

No.

You'll just walk home. Too bad the buses stop running in Panem at 6:45pm, otherwise you'd be able to catch one. And you can't call Ashlie, your brother's girlfriend to get you since she's currently working as a barmaid at the Hobb right now. You're lucky she was able to give you a ride to the party in the first place. And your brothers prolly 3 sheets to the wind right now on moonshine…

Damnit, looks like you get to walk across Panem to go home to the shitty trailer park you live in on the edge of town.

Fuck…

Snow would be a jackass tonight.

As Coriolanus wiped the spit off his face he made a mental note to punish you for that later. Yea, he's gonna have to fuck some respect and manners into you cause you're being a brat. You gotta learn how to behave around him while he's in his element; while he's working.

Odyssey cocked his head to the side, only to goad Coriolanus with a syrupy tart remark of, “I see you told her off. No wonder Y/N is letting me hit her up, you're obviously not doing it for her with your hood boy vibe.”

Without a word, Coriolanus balled his hand into a fist and took a swing at your Odysseus’ jaw; knocking him to the ground. The drug dealer grabbed the collar of your ex’s shirt, pulling him up so that he could punch him again.

And again.

Some people gasped, some screamed and shouted, but just about everyone stopped what they were doing to watch Coriolanus beat up your ex. The platinum blonde dealer has a rep for being a brawler, so everyone watches him fight- wonder if he's gonna kill somebody with his fists.

But when Livinius and Hector came forward to join the fight and push Snow off of Odysseus (who’s nearly unconscious at this point), Sejanus pulled Coriolanus off of your ex while Festus pulled his gat, threatening to pop some caps in their asses if they even dared to go after Snow in an unfair fight.

“Thanks, Sej, Festus, but I could've handle ‘em. I got a gun of my own, ya know.” Coriolanus told his friends as they walked out of the large house that was hosting the party.

Clasping his friend on the back, Sejanus said, “We know you can handle yourself, but you need to deal with your girl right now.”

“Yea, Snow, you need to bring her home and fuck her.” Festus crudely added in.

“Creed, shut up.” Coriolanus ordered his friend. Festus was such a perv, always talking about fucking and hooking up with anything that has two legs. God, Coriolanus cringes at the thought of how many STDs Festus must've had by now. Boy’s like a walking petri dish.

“I'll catch up wit’cha later. Gotta get to my car and deal with Y/N.” Coryo told his friends.

“Yea, you let her know who's boss.” Festus said while at the same time Sejanus wisely advised, “Don't be too hard on her, she's a nice girl; you don't find those easily.”

“Yea, I know.” Coriolanus dismissively snaps, only to walk off towards where his car was.

And when he reached his car you weren't there waiting for him, which nearly gave him a heart attack. Where the fuck were you?

Getting into his black luxury sedan (cause slinging dope really paid off) he pulled his iPhone out of his back pocket and called you. It was ignored, making him mad. So he called you again and again, only to keep having his calls ignored.

He would’ve kept calling you, but the sound of sirens blaring in the distance made his blood run cold.

Fuck! Somebody called the cops cause Festus pulled a gun. Damn, Coriolanus needs to get outta the gated community before he's stopped and taken in for questioning cause he's Snow- a known drug dealer.

And of course you're being a stubborn fucking bratty bitch right now.

Tossing his phone on his dash, Snow cranks on his car and quickly pulls away from the large party house. He speeds down the winding streets and manages to exit the gates community of Capitol Estates right before the cops can notice him.

And he's speeding down the road, heading home, whenever he spots your figure walking along the desolate highway I-70: which is very unsafe if you ask him.

Rolling down his window and slowing down to a cruise, he comes up on you and barks, “What the fuck a doing walking down the highway, baby? Trying to get snatched and killed by some creep?”

“I'm going home, Snowball. Gotta walk since the buses stopped running hours ago. Why else would I be walking down a fucking highway for?” You tell the platinum blonde hood with so much animosity in your usual sweet voice that it's not even funny.

“Come on, I'll take you home.” Snowball tells you, clicking the button to unlock his car doors for you.

“No thank you, Snow.” You turn down in offer in a polite, but clipped tone as you continue to walk down the road.

“Baby, don't be like this.” The platinum blonde dealer sighed. “You can't walk half an hour late at night back to the trailer park. It ain't safe.”

“What? Like you give a shit?”

“You know I do, Y/N. So get in the car, yea?”

You looked between Snow's black luxury sedan and the stretch of open road you're currently trekking down. You decided to be a lil bitch, give him the cold shoulder, and keep on keeping on down the highway.

Or at least you planned on continuing your walk, but Coriolanus’ baritone stopped you right in your tracks as he heavily announced, “The cops busted the party, we better get outta here before they come back and decide to pull me over for a traffic stop. Don't wanna get arrested for hauling shit in my car.”

Of course, Snowball has drugs in his car. After all, he's a dealer.

You heard the sirens; saw the cop cars whizzing by too. You didn't care. Let them bust the party. Everyone knows that Sejanus Plinth's father will buy him out of trouble, his friends too. So you weren't too concerned about Snow or anyone you knew at that house party in Capitol Estates getting busted.

But Coriolanus is right, him sticking around the area's risky since the cops are lurking around. If he got caught up in a traffic stop, searched for dope, and was arrested, then you'd be stealing money from your brother and sister-in-law to pay his bail- cause you know Snow would call you to bail him out.

It happened a couple of times before.

And if your brother catches you stealing his money again to pay the bail bondsman, well…you'd probably get a smack across the head and thrown out on your ass. Definitely the latter, maybe the former.

Sighing, you relented. “Fine, you can give me a ride.” You round the car and get into the passenger’s side.

The ride along the stretch of highway that leads into downtown Panem (and out of it to the outskirts and the trailer park you live in) feels long and stifling. The radio’s on low, providing the only noise in the car- the stero’s bass booming with Coriolanus' playlist. You're looking out the window; giving the dealer next to you the cold shoulder.

“I'm taking you back to my place.” Coryo told you, his voice loud over the radio.

“Why?” Was the one word question that flies out of your mouth

“What'd you mean ‘why?’. You know full well fucking why.”

Whipping your head around to look at his profile, as he drove down the road illuminated by his headlights and a few scattered street lamps. “Actually, Snowball, I don't know why. Last time I checked, you said a couple of weeks ago that you don't wanna hookup anymore; will just do weed drop offs at my front door.”

“Yea, well, after putting me thru hell tonight I'd say that you owe me a fuck.” Giving you a pointed look, he shrugged, “Or at least deep throat my cock.”

“I don't owe you shit.” And you'd stand by that too. Snow's nostrils flare angrily and he cuts his icy eyes at you. Rolling your eyes at his temper, you remind him of why you don't owe him. “You're the one that decided to come to my rescue; I didn't ask for your help. In fact I was fine just talking with Odysseus.”

“It's never just talking with you and Odair. It always ends up with you taking him back; trying again.” Coriolanus snaps, taking a hand off the steering wheel and reaching into the ashtray for a roach. “I ain't gonna sit back and watch him hurt you again, babygirl.” He pulled the roach out and brought it to his lush lips.

“So, you're jealous?” You ask, letting out a giggle of disbelief, as Coriolanus digs his lighter out of his pocket and lit up the roach.

“I'm not jealous, just a bit protective of you’s all.” The dealer half lied, since he was jealous, before tossing you his lighter. Pointing to the ashtray, he orders, “Grab yourself a roach.”

“You gonna charge me for it, Snowball?” You ask, reaching forward to grab a roach from the ashtray.

“No.” Coriolanus shook his head. “And call me Coryo tonight, yea?” He says as you light up.

“Whatever you say, Coryo.” You shrug, tossing his lighter onto the dash as you smoke your roach.

His roach teeters against his lips as Coryo smacks your bare thigh (since you're in shorts) while telling you in a deep, dark baritone, “I’m gonna fuck some sense, respect, and manners into you tonight, baby.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Coriolanus has a big cock and you always enjoy getting fucked by him. But by his tone, he's pissed and is going fuck you hard tonight to prove a point. Do you care? Not really.

Hey, you're getting dicked down tonight, so you're not gonna complain about why it's happening.

After arriving at Coryo's apartment, he literally tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to his bedroom. Despite hooking up with him a few times, you've never been inside of his room. You’ve always hooked up on his couch in the living room. But it seems like Snow wants to fuck you in his bed tonight.

He unceremoniously tosses you onto his bed, making you bounce slightly. Coriolanus pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side before pulling his gun out of his waistband and placing it on his bedside table. All while you just lay in the middle of his bed, silently watching him.

Pulling some bags of various drugs out of his pockets and putting them on the bedside table, the dealer tells you, “After tonight you won't be a bratty bitch with me anymore.”

“And what if after tonight's fucking I decide to still be a bratty bitch?” You countered, watching the platinum blonde as he kneels on the bed, causing the mattress to dip slightly with the added weight of his body.

Coryo's hovering over your body. One of his hands is flat against the mattress while the other goes straight to your hair. His long fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it and making your neck crane so your face is close to his. Your eyes lock onto to icy blues, now blazing with lust and an unchecked emotion, as he tells you, “Then I'll just have to keep fucking you til you're not a bratty bitch anymore.”

Before you can even think of a retort, Coryo's lips are smacking against yours in a heated, dominant kiss. A kiss that he poured out all of his jealousy, obsessiveness, and possessiveness into. A kiss that you respond to right away.

The taste of beer, weed, and mint sets your senses on fire as Snow deepens the kiss by shoving his tongue into your mouth as soon as you let out a tiny gasp for air. Air that you'll never get since Coryo's determined to suck all the air out of your lungs with his hungry and raw kisses.

Kisses unlike any other you've ever had before.

Coryo kissed like a starving man who couldn't satisfy his hunger. Like a parched man with an unquenchable thirst. He kissed like he wanted to suck the very soul out of your body, only to swallow it whole and make it one with his own.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss, and just gave you a dark smirk before grabbing the hem of your dress. He didn't need to tell you what he wanted to do, you just knew. So, you lifted your arms up and let him pull off your tank top. Then, you lowered your arms and let him unclasp and pull off your bra. He tossed the black lacy thing across the room before taking one of your nipples between his teeth; causing you to moan and arch your back.

Coryo chuckled against your boob, only to swirl his tongue around your nipple while palming at your cloth covered cunt. The friction was only enough to tease you, which drove you insane.

“Coryo, please, fuck me.” You beg in a mewling moan.

“Oh, I'm going to fuck you alright. I'm gonna fuck you til I blow your back out; til you learn some respect and get it into that goddamn stubborn skull of yours that you belong to me and ain't gonna be talking with no other dudes.” He darkly promises before trailing open mouth kisses down your torso. Swirling his tongue into your belly button, he quickly unbuttons and pulls off your jean shorts, leaving you in just your lacy panties.

Panties that won't be on for long.

You're not sure how long you've been fucking Coryo for, but you do know that the bed's soaked, the sheets are prolly ruined, and you're in your third? fourth? position of the night. You also know that your pussy’s a wet, weeping, swollen, oversensitive mess. Also, you're so cockdrunk that your brain’s just about turned to mush right now too.

“You’re not so mouthy anymore, are ya, bitch?” Coryo asks, pounding mercilessly into your pussy from behind as you lay bonelessly on the bed with a pillow propped under your lower belly/hips. The cool metal of his dog tags drags up and down your spine as he taunts you with, “Look at you, so cockdrunk that you're a dumb, submissive, little slut for me.”

“Mhm…” You garble out, drool pooling out of your mouth and onto his pillow.

“Fuck…your greedy cunt's creamin’ my cock so good. Got a thick creamy ring at the base, baby.” Coriolanus groans, harshly snapping his hips to thrust even deeper into your tight, abused hole. His breath is hot against your ear as he dirtily asks in a husky, deep, baritone, “You gonna soak my sheets again, you dirty little slut? Huh, babygirl? Gonna squirt all over my big balls as they slap against that puffy clit of yours?”

“Yes, yes.” You nod. “Coryo, ‘s feels good and too much all at once.” You tell him as the tip of his cock hits your cervix, causing your toes to curl and your fingers to dig into the sheets.

“Yea?” Coryo asks in a deep, throaty chuckle. “You can take it, tho, babygirl. You're my bratty lil slut and can take my dick like a goddamn champ.” He tells you, a moan caught in the back of his throat, as he ruts into you at an ungodly speed.

“Coryo…so close…” You gasp, feeling dizzy from getting your brains banged out by your possessive and primal weed dealer.

“Cum right now. Be my obedient good girl and cum all over my cock right now.” Coryo orders you in a deep, but firm tone.

His rough, lust-husky voice being so commanding sends you over the edge. You cum babbling his name over and over into the pillow your head’s resting sideways on.

Your moans and high pitch chants of “Coryo, Coryo, Coryo.” is music to the dealer’s ears.

Coriolanus prides himself on how good he fucks you, on how he can make you cum multiple times; make you a crying, rambling mess just with his cock and by manhandling you into whatever position he wants you in.

“I'm gonna fuck you til I fill that tight cunt full of my cum.” Coriolanus promises in a loud grunt as he plows into you, hard and deep. Little squeals fall from your lips as he huskily remarks, “Gonna knock ya up with my lil bastard.” His fingers dig deep into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises and crescent shaped marks. “We're gonna be able to collect all kinds of benefits once you're carrying my baby.” Coryo's icy eyes start to roll into the back of his head and his balls start to tighten up as he sloppily ducks into your tight cunt. “You're gonna look so sexy all full and round with my kid. You'll be glowing.”

One, two, three more fast thrusts and Coryo's filling your womb up with thick ropes of his hot, white seed. Instead of pulling out, he fucks his cum deep into you. He only pulls out once he's sure that every drop has been fucked deep into your greedy, awaiting womb.

You're a boneless, exhausted mess whenever Coryo's cock slips out of your overfucked and overstimulated cunt. A cunt that's still twitching. The platinum blonde dealer can't help, but smirk at your form laying on the bed all cockdrunk and fucked dumb.

He climbs down from the bed and goes over to your side. Pushing some sweaty strands of hair away from your face, he asks, “You good, baby?”

“Yea.” You barely whisper, nodding with a glassy-eyed look.

“I'll be right back. Gonna get something for ya to drink; something to clean you up with too.” Coriolanus told you before walking out of the room.

You smile as you watch his perfect ass leave the room and head down the hall. Yes, you'll admit that Coryo's ass is perfect. His broad shoulders, tapered slutty waist, and muscles are perfect too. Hell, the dealer’s an Adonis crafted by the ancient gods, that's how hot he is.

It doesn't take long for Coryo to return with a wet washcloth and a bottle of water that he's added some Liquid IV too. He usually drinks that stuff after a long night of heavy partying to afford hangovers, so he figures it'd be good as an aftercare drink. You can use all the electrolytes you can get after he went hard with fucking you.

After cleaning you off, he tosses the washcloth onto the bedside table and joins you in bed. He arranged your tires, fucked out body so that you’re snuggled into his side. Kissing your forehead, he reaches for the bottle on his bedside table. “Here, this’ll help hydrate you.” Snow says, handing you over the water bottle.

“Thanks, Snowball.” You smile, taking the bottle from him. You open it and take a sip. “Ugh, what is this shit? It's not water, Coryo.” You ask, making a funny face from the weird taste lingering on your tongue.

“It's gold cherry Liquid IV.” He told you, only to tip the water bottle up towards your mouth. “It'll hydrate you faster than water, so drink it.”

“It doesn't taste like golden cherries.” You mumble before taking another sip of the enhanced water.

“Stop complaining and drink it, Y/N. We don't want you passing out from being fucked too hard, now so we?”

You roll your eyes at him and take a longer sip from the water bottle. Passing it over to him, you say, “You should drink some too since you have the stamina of a stallion and nearly fucked me to death.”

“Don't be so dramatic, babe.” Coryo scoffed, taking the water bottle from you. “You like me fucking some manners into you.”

“Of course I liked it. I'd be stupid not to.” You tell him, watching as he gulps down the water. Better him than you drinking that stuff. Too bad he doesn't have any bottles of Gatorade in the fridge. Now that you wouldn't mind drinking.

“Got work or anything you gotta be up early for?” Coryo asks, capping the bottle bottle and placing it on his bedside table.

“No.” You shake your head against his chest. “Still haven't found anything yet, but I got an interview in a couple of days at The Hobb.”

“Yea…” Coryo trails off, only to firmly order, “You're not working there.”

“Why not? It's a busy bar so I wouldn’t be laid off.” You pressed, needing to know his reason for not wanting you to gain employment at the biggest bar in Panem.

“It's not a bar, it's a honkey tonk.” Your dealer dryly corrected you. “And it's just not somewhere I want my girl working at.”

You raised a curious brow while looking up at the man whose arms are wrapped around you, whose side you're tucked into. “Since when am I your girl, Snowball? Thought you didn't do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing?”

“I’m usually the type of guy that doesn't want a girlfriend, but, baby, it's different with you.”

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls you deal to.” You say in an attempt to brush off Snow's words; the seriousness of their nature. Because if he really has feelings for you, then you're screwed. Hooking up with a dealer and dating one; belonging to one's are two very very different things. Things that could make your already rocky life even rockier.

“Actually, babygirl, no, I don't say that to all the girls I deal to.” Coryo honestly admitted. His usually cold icy eyes melted into a crystal blue as he looked into your eyes. “Just you, baby, cause you're special to me.”

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lovergirl-brainrot · 9 months ago

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Deal Makers and Deal Breakers in a Relationship with (some of) the Straw Hats

I'm honestly not very far into One Piece but I already can't stop thinking about it, so if this is inaccurate to something that happens way further in the series then I'm so sorry, bestie.

Some things that I think are major positives and major draw backs in a relationship with Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Nami, and Usopp that could make or break a relationship depending on your tastes.

Fem reader, one minor NSFW mention in Luffy's

𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒿𝒾

Deal Maker

He's so romantic in the traditional sense. Sanji is the flowers on every date, breakfast in bed, long walks on the beach kind of boyfriend. You guys could be married for 50 years and he'll still be thinking of ways to impress you because he's so deeply in love.

Deal Breaker

He does not stop flirting with other women. He'll do it right in front of you and not think twice about it. You're the girl he wants to devote his life to, but it's hard to believe sometimes when he still throws himself at any hot woman he sees. But if you try to flirt with other people, he is seething. He's so jealous that it makes him sick.

𝓩𝓸𝓻𝓸

Deal Maker

He is so devoted and it shows in every aspect of your relationship. There is not a single thing he wouldn't do for you. Fight for you, move heavy objects, carry you back to the ship if your feet get tired... He wouldn't admit it if you held a gun to his head, but he loves to be of service to you. He likes to feel needed. If you ask him to do something and he doesn't know how, he will figure it out by any means necessary.

Deal Breaker

Does not take your feelings as seriously as he should. If you're upset about something minor and he sees you pouting he'll tell you to stop complaining about it. He thinks it's good for you. In his mind it encourages strength and discipline. He also refuses to communicate with you if he thinks you have an attitude. He shuts you down because he doesn't want to argue with you.

𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓲

Deal Maker

She is so open and honest with you. She makes it clear that you can go to her for absolutely anything. She's not afraid to tell you what she thinks but never does it with the intention of hurting you. She is a full believer that shared joy is a double joy and shared sorrow is half a sorrow. If you need advice, a reminder of how much you're loved, or someone to talk shit with, you always want to turn to Nami first.

Deal Breaker

Nothing, she's perfect. I love women.

But in all seriousness, she has a hard time sharing. She does not believe in the idea of "what's mine is yours." She doesn't like to share no matter what it is. Food, clothes, money... You name it.

𝓤𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓹

Deal Maker

He'll do anything to make you laugh, even if it means embarrassing himself. Your smile makes his heart stop, so he works HARD to keep it on your face. If you need someone to cheer you up after crying, Usopp is the man for the job. He tells you stories that are obviously fake but he'll never stop because those make you laugh too. He's good at lifting your spirits even in the most dire of circumstances. He'll bury his own feelings that the crew isn't making it out of this one alive to reassure you and make you feel better.

Deal Breaker

He can be so insensitive at times. He never wants to hurt you, but he can be just as good at putting you down as he is at lifting you up. He wants so badly to impress others and seem cool that the stories he tells to others will make you out to be worse than you are so he can make himself look good in comparison. He'll make jokes at your expense, even if he knows it's something you're insecure about. Usopp will intentionally exclude you from some things and he doesn't understand why it's a problem. He gossips about the crew with Nami but refuses to let you in on it.

𝓛𝓾𝓯𝓯𝔂

Deal Maker

He's very fun to be around. He always wants you to have a good time. He's easy to be with and he keeps your life exciting. You're the first person he invites when he wants to do something he thinks will be fun. At restaurants he excitedly says "this is really good, you should try it" and offers you some of his food. Every morning he asks what you're doing that day so he can come along and make it more enjoyable.

Deal Breaker

He has absolutely no filter. Luffy doesn't tend to think before he speaks so he is honest to a fault. He'll tell you exactly what's on his mind, but doesn't try to say it with tact or empathy in the way that Nami does. That means pointing out your insecurities, telling strangers about your sex life, telling the rest of the crew all of the details they have no business knowing when you're in the middle of an argument, etc.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #luffy x reader

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mirrorball-leclerc · 1 year ago

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karma - part five

series masterlist

charles_leclerc and natalia_leclerc posted new stories

je vous aimerai pour toujours (i'll love you forever)

"bébé, tu es l'amour de ma vie" (baby, you are the love of my life)

siempre te amare (i'll always love you)

tehe, that's my husband 🥰

hey siri, play slut! (taylor's version)

charles_leclerc posted new stories

how did i get so lucky?

😘😍

liked by gracieabrams, sukiwaterhouse, kellypiquet and others

natalia_leclerc no words to describe what it has meant to me to go on this journey with people i love. daisyjonesandthesix has been the greatest, most fulfilling gift. it’s surreal that it has come to an end, but i have made friends for life, and memories that will bring a smile to my face forever. i could’ve never anticipated exactly how much love this show would get and how my life would change. it has just exceeded all of our dreams. i’m so proud of how far we’ve come. congratulations to all of the winners and nominees 💙 thank you televisionacad for this recognition. oh baby, look at us now 🎶

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user1 charles leclerc, you lucky son of a gun

user2 so cunty of her to be wearing red to the emmys. she owns that color.

landonorris DID YOU MEET TAYLOR SWIFT??

natalia_leclerc maybe. maybe not? charles_leclerc she almost cried. natalia_leclerc traitor landonorris and? i would too, she isn't special.

user3 can charles fight??

user4 red bull may be falling apart but charles will still simp over his wife.

sukiwaterhouse oh baby you looked gorgeous 😘

natalia_leclerc it was all you corazon charles_leclerc please stop flirting with my wife. sukiwaterhouse never you french man. charles_leclerc MONÉGASQUE!! I'M MONÉGASQUE!! sukiwaterhouse french adjacent 🤷🏼‍♀️

francesca.cgomes what a beautiful girl 💙

natalia_leclerc aww baby 💙 user5 praying for my man charles. everyone loves his wife.

user6 you're telling me lightning mcqueen pulled her?? how??

alex_albon believe me, we've been asking ourselves that same question since 2018. landonorris it's a miracle really pierregasly she is the sally to his mcqueen natalia_leclerc and pierre is the mater to his mcqueen

kellypiquet you look amazing red is definitely your color 💙

natalia_leclerc thank you kelly!

max verstappen so does anyone know who our new team principal is going to be??

charles leclerc i'm still trying to wrap my head around daniel not driving this season. sebastian vettel i haven't been told anything yet. natalia leclerc as if they're going to tell me. i only know everything because charles tells me everything.

max verstappen i was hoping someone would know something. i think the anticipation will slowly kill me.

charles leclerc good, then i can become champion. sebastian vettel not that he needs you to be dead to beat you.

max verstappen i guess we'll see won't we?

charles leclerc we will, won't we? natalia leclerc men 🙄

sebastian vettel i think if we don't know anything it's because they haven't found a replacement.

max verstappen then that's stupid, why are they going to announce it when they haven't found someone to replace him?

natalia leclerc because even now we can't get away from spanish papers. someone leaked this shit.

sebastian vettel i have a crazy idea.

charles leclerc how crazy are we talking here?

sebastian vettel i'll be back in like 40 minutes.

max verstappen way to leave us hanging seb

40 minutes later

sebastian vettel i don't know how successful i was but i think they'll think about it.

natalia leclerc seb, what did you do?

sebastian vettel hopefully something worthy of younger seb's chaos.

max verstappen we're fucked

charles leclerc don't be mean. as long as it's not another multi-21 we'll be fine.

sebastian vettel oh my god. let it go. charles leclerc as long as people still hold the inchident against me. i will hold multi-21 against you.

natalia leclerc i don't know why anyone thinks you three are serious people. you're all children.

max verstappen says the woman who's been thiristing over her husband on social media.

"how long did it take you to convince him?" natalia asked. sebastian huffed, "i almost got down on my knees to beg."

"it would not have come to that," kimi replied.

sebastian rolled his eyes, "he was enjoying it. i had to ask his wife to help me convince him. they gave me a deadline to get him on board."

"was there any other option?" max questioned.

"jenson," seb answered at the same time kimi said, "mark."

charles laughed, "oh, would it not have been great to see seb and mark on the same team again?"

"they would've killed each other," max realized.

"no, we wouldn't," sebastian argued. natalia gave him a shit-eating grin, "you still have to see him at the paddock, like every week. he's oscar's manager."

"the mini-me?" kimi quizzed, looking up from his ice cream, because nothing would stop him from enjoying ice cream. everyone at the table looked at him confused, kimi shrugged, "i read what people say. sometimes."

the conversation was stopped by kelly's arrival, "sorry, i'm late. daniil was running late and- nevermind. did you order yet?"

max shook his head, "just kimi, said he needed his ice cream."

"it's very good," kimi replied, "but i don't share."

sebastian huffed again, "i made a huge mistake."

"too late."

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¡leclerc-s speaks! hope i didn't let anyone down with the kimi reveal, which due to popular demand, i just had to go with him. trust when i say i would've gone with seb if i didn't already have plans for him. listen, i love ollie, he is a baby, and i just had to include him somehow. so i took creative liberties. realistically this couldn't happen but oh well, poaching him and arthur was definitely seb's idea. also, please don't hate me for the daniel thing but liam lawson deserves an f1 seat and he's getting one in this story. at least i didn't get rid of him completely.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #karma series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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puppetmaster13u · 1 year ago

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So I am rotating the batfamily, but not like, civilian or vigilante. I am slowly rotating them all having a Malone-sona of sorts that is their in to organized crime.

Like you can't tell me people wouldn't start noticing this family that the bats, the literal cryptids and monsters of Gotham, don't even touch and lets continue to operate despite taking the older crime families apart.

And to Gotham that screams power.

Alfred = Albert “Old Al” Malone I wanna say that he doesn't go out as 'Old Al' often, but gives off Godfather sort of vibes. Usually sitting there with an old cane (that definitely has a sword, they're all dramatic like that lol) half in the dark with a cup of tea or other drink. He gets to stretch his acting skills and honestly the kids definitely had a say in the persona. Old Al is something they all made together and they have fun implying so much fun shit.

Kate = Mary “Madam” Malone She definitely gives off 'snap your spine over her knee if not for the fact it would get your blood all over her clothes' vibes. Stylized nails, hair up in fishtail braids or ponytails or whatever, looks like she could tear out ones throat and they'd thank her. It's a running gag that she's in finances, even if no one in the underbelly believes it.

Bruce = “Matches” Malone I mean, it's classic Matches (though most probably assume that Matches isn't his real name) who seems rather chill until someone breaks the rules. Gives off vibes that he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty but will do so to make a point, and enjoy doing it. He sometimes uses Matches to check in on places he can't as a shadowy cryptid, and it's not like the lower income areas would fully trust Brucie Wayne.

Barbara = Madison “Maddie” Malone Now let's be honest, Barbara enjoys messing with people, she enjoys knowing every little thing as Oracle, and she definitely does that as Maddie. The thing is, no one knows how she learns about things, other criminals search for a traitor, for a leak, for anything, and get nothing. Which is utterly terrifying. Because there has to be some sort of information network, there has to be. And somehow they're so good that they're indistinguishable to any others.

Dick = Micheal “Mikey” Malone Honestly Dick uses this chance to get into a bunch of fights just for fun. Flirts a bit more freely but doesn't really have an interest in actually getting with someone. Just has funs and is known for throwing his own parties that usually end in free-for-all brawls. He absolutely loves being able to have parties that are the opposite of galas he's usually dragged into.

Cass = Molly Malone She's quiet and graceful, but she takes it to unnerving levels as Molly. Looks slim but carries guns on her at all time to better differentiate between Cassandra Wayne, Black Bat, and Molly Malone. Everyone knows if you need a weapon, guns, meelee, whatever, she's the one you go to. Gotham help you if you cross her though.

Jason = Peter “Petey” Malone Where Molly Malone goes, everyone knows Petey will be there as well. Jason absolutely adores the time he gets to do so, it's his turn to be silent and dramatic. Everyone can recognize the jagged scar over his neck, they can recognize it from corpses the Bats have gotten their talons on. Honestly he's delighted in being able to be Cass' enforcer of sorts and just have a good fight. Even if he complains about how making his Malone mute makes it where he can't quote Shakespeare like he wants to.

Steph = “Mia” Malone Ah yes, the explosive Malone. The one who has more arson charges than Firefly. Or at least she would if she was caught, but the entire Underbelly knows it was her. Steph is living her best life being able to pull all sorts of pranks and crazy shit and takes several ideas from Harley. Honestly she probably smells like gasoline or smoke all the time, and definitely put glitter in her hair. Maybe even has red hair as a Malone as well.

Tim = Alvin “Al” Malone He still goes by Alvin Draper too, which results in half the underbelly thinking that Draper is his middle name. Honestly he's having the best time, everyone knows to come to him for forgeries and less than legal identities, which he loves to create. I mean just look at how many new identities he creates for himself alone. He enjoys this type of thing, and hey, it's so easy to keep track of whose identity is fake when you're the one who made them. Plus it also lets him do good for those on the run for good reasons, a way to make sure people are safe.

Duke = Dennis “Denny” Malone Everyone knows Denny was adopted, but y'know what, I bet they don't care. And you know Duke is utterly insane, like jump off a bridge to escape the cops and create the We are Robin gang insane. And he gets to play that up as Denny. He will put forth the most batshit ideas and actually pull them off. I bet he uses his future-sight to cheat at different games and pool tables and all sorts of things, but no one can ever prove it. Because there is no proof, and the other people playing just has to deal with it.

Damian = “Mini M” Malone The little baby of the family, who everyone knows the older Malones absolutely dote over. This is his chance to act like an actual child, just with a hint of art theft. Hey, it wasn't like they got it legally either, so it's free game, especially if they weren't taking proper care of the art or a pet. He's just pleased to get to have even more pets, and that Goliath his demon dragon-bat gets to go on walkies.

Jarro = Jadan “Lil J” Malone Now Jarro is delighted to have a third mech, and is even more delighted for people to believe Damian (or technically M jr) and him are twins. Gives off someone is going to die- of fun with Mini M, and honestly enjoys being able to use his natural telepathy to be a small horror movie child that knows too much. Like will stare up at someone with wide eyes covered in blood and the others in Gotham's underbelly still aren't sure if the blood was his or someone elses. (it was neither)

================================================

Honestly I might write a oneshot or something for the Cryptid Batfam focusing on just them as the Malones family.

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sundrop-writes · 1 month ago

Text

Baby Said

Dom!Rosita Espinosa x Sub!Fem!Reader

aka the Rosita Knife Kink fic

Tell me now - what’s that look on your face?

She puts her hand on my lips, begging - ‘please, end this conversation.’

Baby Said: ‘Let me taste your silhouette. You can talk between my legs.’

I know you really want to.

Summary:

When you first met Rosita, you thought your attraction to her was hopeless and fated to die quietly inside of you. But it turns out - she felt the exact same way about you.

Though she doesn't quite know how to deal with her attraction to you or the new relationship that it blossoms into. She's only dated men in the past, and she never felt this way about any of them. She has never been this insanely in love before. Tempted to run away from her feelings, silently pulling away from you, she is shaken back to reality when she finds Spencer brazenly flirting with you one night.

There is only one obvious solution in her mind: claim you. Make sure the world knows that you're hers. Leave a mark on you that can't be so easily erased. (Not that you would want to.)

Dom!Rosita Espinosa x Sub!Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season 6.

Word Count: 15,100

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: the reader character goes by she/her pronouns and has a vagina and breasts; there is no major descriptors of the reader’s race, age, or looks in general (though when I was writing this, I did have in mind that the reader is around the same age as Rosita, Glenn, Maggie, and Tara - so she would be in her early to mid twenties, but that is not a hard fact); this fic DOES use Y/N; even though most of my reader characters are bisexual, the reader is explicitly a lesbian in this fic; Rosita speaks Spanish and it is not explicitly mentioned if the reader speaks Spanish as well and understands these words or not; this fic is about Rosita discovering her sexuality after the apocalypse - it could be implied that she is bisexual, but I wanted this fic to be about her discovering her true sexuality through loving the reader (so Rosita could be a lesbian or demisexual) - but she sex she had with men in the past was not traumatic, just not particularly exciting; mentions of Rosita x Abraham, including mentions of Abraham and Rosita having sex; Abraham and Rosita do break-up before Rosita and reader get together so there is no cheating; very background mentions of Sasha x Abraham (but in this version, Rosita is not at all upset about it or upset about the break-up because she’s in love with the reader); the reader calls Rosita ‘Ro’ or ‘Ro-Ro’ and she’s the only one who is allowed to use this nickname for her; this fic is set during Season 6, but there is no mention of Negan (I wanted to set this during the ambiguous time skip after the mass of Walkers is taken out in episode 8 - but I did mention Deana and Noah being alive - fucking details); mentions of common Walking Dead themes - death, Walkers, killing Walkers (and people) to survive, gun violence, etc.; lots of Spencer Monroe bashing (I fucking hate him!!!!) - mentions of Spencer having a one-sided attraction toward Rosita and toward the reader (attractions that are definitely not returned), mentions of Spencer ‘flirting’ with Rosita in a way that borders on harassment, implications that Spencer is homophobic/lesphobic and that he has a gross stereotypical fantasy of having a threesome with two women just because those women are in a relationship; the reader works as a school teacher in Alexandria (mainly teaching the teenagers); there is a scene of Spencer harassing the reader in a way that she finds scary and intimidating, (at one point, the reader even fears for her life in Spencer’s presence), but Rosita swoops in to save her.

This is a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Rosita is the dominant one (she is more of a mean dom) and the reader is submissive (the reader is somewhat of a brat at first); the main kink here is knife kink - the reader gets turned on watching Rosita use a knife while teaching a self defense class for the inexperienced Alexandrians and Rosita uses this to her advantage later; Rosita cuts off the reader’s clothes, and gives the reader a few small cuts with the knife (not major or painful) and teases her with it, and this ultimately culminates in Rosita carving her initials into the reader’s thigh - this is described as painful, but it is a pleasurable pain; general pain kink; Rosita slaps the reader (and she likes it); the reader is stripped naked and Rosita remains clothed; choking kink - not to an extreme and there is no major breathplay, but Rosita does take a hold of the reader’s throat and squeeze for a short period of time; thigh riding - Rosita grinds her knee and thigh between the reader’s legs; sweat kink - the reader fantasies about licking sweat off Rosita; blood kink - the reader is turned on by (remembered) visuals of Rosita covered in blood, and Rosita licks up the reader’s blood after cutting her with the knife; dumbification kink - Rosita calls the reader stupid (and she likes it); degradation kink - Rosita calls the reader ‘whore’ (in both Spanish and English, yay multiculturalism!!) and ‘stupid slut’ and ‘babydoll’ and ‘fuckhole’; discussion of housewife kink and kinks around ‘gender roles’ (in which Rosita is framed as the ‘man’ and the protector and the reader is framed as the more submissive ‘wife’) (though the reader is very competent in protecting herself, and it’s something Rosita is attracted to when they first meet); discussion of the reader being kept in a cage (that does not actually happen during the fic); oral sex - reader receiving; fingering - reader receiving. And I think that’s finally it for this fic.

A/N: I am soo excited to post this fic because it's my first ever fic for Rosita and I have been wanting to write for her for sooo long. I actually intended for this fic to be 'simple' and to be like 3k, but I am actually so happy that my first fic for her turned out to be like 15k and is actually really complex - she deserves it. I hope you guys enjoy it!! I love her so much and I hope that I did her justice.

...

Rosita knew that for most people, there was a Before and an After.

Before - back when the world was ‘normal’. When the world was ‘good’. When society was ‘functioning’. In her mind, that was all bullshit. People had been starving and living on the streets before too. Society had never been fully functional.

After - the now. When the dead walked the earth, after the society that everyone knew, the life that most people had been comfortable with had crumbled away. When, in most people’s minds, everything ‘good’ had died and gone.

But Rosita had a lot of trouble thinking of it that way.

She was one of those people who - in a lot of ways - struggled to survive in the Old World. She had to find creative ways to make ends meet and money was always tight.

(That was one thing she never missed - money. Yeah. Fuck that.)

A lot of those ways involved getting dolled up and schmoozing for tips from men who were twice her age, working late nights at sleazy bars, and once she learned that it paid better, straight up scamming guys out of their ‘hard earned’ cash. Morality was never one of her strong suits, but beauty was. And guys always think that a pretty face is a truthful one.

When the world fell apart, she saw no sense in falling with it. It was just another hard time that she would learn to live through.

Abraham came along with his big truck and his even bigger ambitions, talking about saving the whole damn world like it was his god given right. At the time, Rosita wasn’t sure there was much left to save, but he and Eugene were two more men who liked her for her pretty face and she liked their big truck and their guns - she liked her chances of survival with them. And she was always willing to join forces with someone who had something to teach her.

So she embarked on a mission that she didn’t have much emotional stake in. Not at first.

The first time she had sex with Abraham, she knew it wasn’t love. But, as far as she was concerned, love was a myth anyway. She was bored and he was warm, and that was all she really needed to know.

She was alive. She had some sense of purpose. Her life didn’t feel much different than it had before. In fact, it was better - without the dread of debt or bills hanging over her head. Even if that had been switched out for the literal dead hanging over her head every now and then.

…

Life was once so perfectly clear and simple to Rosita - and then she met you.

Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene found you on the side of a hot, desolate Georgia road, tears in your eyes as you desperately stripped the riot gear off (who they later knew to be) Glenn. You had been trying to assess his condition after he had collapsed while fighting Walkers - his body clearly still weak from the flu that had almost killed him at the prison. Tara stepped up to protect the both of you, using the butt of Glenn’s heavy artillery to smash in the rotting heads before she posed to the three strangers that she ‘hoped they enjoyed the show’.

You pointed a gun in Abraham’s face the moment that he approached Glenn’s prone body. It was something Rosita immediately liked about you - you were fiery, unafraid, and protective. You didn’t even flinch at a man so much larger than you - looked him in the eye and threatened him with a fierce tongue. It was why Rosita chose to approach you, chose to be the one to barter peace and hammer home the logic that you and your friends would never survive on the road alone. That Abraham and his big truck were truly the best option for you.

She later found herself surprised that Glenn was on such a determined quest to find his wife. With the way you fussed over him, dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead after you finally let Abraham hoist him into the truck, checking his pulse every few minutes, making sure he was draped in shade and comfortable. Rosita thought for certain that the two of you were together.

You laughed so hard when she told you this a few days later that you almost snorted up one of the beans that you had been eating for dinner, choking and sputtering on your food as Glenn and Tara gave Rosita a strange look. After you came down from your fit of laughter and regained your breath, you told Rosita that Glenn certainly wasn’t your type - you were only into women.

You and Glenn had an intense closeness because he had saved your life, more than once, and you valued him intensely as a friend. You quickly added that you loved Maggie just as much as a dear friend, and hoped that she was alive out there somewhere. You hoped that his search would be fruitful. You saw nothing but comedy in the idea that you might be romantic with him.

Rosita had no idea why she became so utterly fixated on this.

It wasn’t like she had never met a lesbian before. She had worked at gay bars, she had plenty of gay friends. When she worked as a bartender, Drag Nights were one of her favourite events to work at. She wasn’t just fine with queer people - she embraced them.

Tara was a lesbian too, and she didn’t find herself laying awake at night thinking about Tara’s laugh and wondering what Tara thought of her. Wondering what Tara’s hair smelled like, wondering if Tara’s skin was soft. Wondering if Tara was warm enough and wondering if she had eaten enough that day. Sure, she grew to love Tara as a friend during those days on the road together, but you were the one who was always on her mind. You were the one she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Even more than the goal of protecting Eugene and saving the world. And increasingly, even more than Abraham.

Even during times when Abraham would loosen his leash on Eugene just enough to insist that they sneak off somewhere to go have sex - Abraham would be inside of her and she would still be thinking about you. She would be grinning at him, kissing his neck, secretly terrified that you would overhear Abraham’s heated grunts about how much he loved her tits and that you would think less of her for it.

She could never get you off her mind.

There was just something about you.

Your laugh was melodic, your skin seemed to shine under the bright Georgia sun. Even though your hair was messy and hadn’t been properly attended to in days, you looked gorgeous. You were so gorgeous. You always managed to make Rosita smile with bits of your well-timed humor, and every bit of conversation she had with you was mentally engaging - more so than she ever had since society had dissolved. Hell, probably since long before that.

She found herself drawn to you in ways she had never been drawn to any other person in her life.

And she found herself oddly disappointed when the group found a real home at Alexandria - not because she didn’t like it there. But because after a few days of probationary caution from Rick, the group dispersed. She and Abraham (and Eugene, like a damn child, unsure where else to go) - started living in their own place. You started living with Maggie and Glenn.

And like clockwork, she saw you a lot less often. She worked her job keeping watch over the walls and teaching the Alexandria residents how to fight and defend themselves, and you took up a job teaching the few children that lived in the town as a school teacher - and the two of you crossed paths less and less often. Your lives became less entwined.

And stupidly, Rosita found herself yearning for the days when the two of you slept on the train tracks with your backs pressed together - quiet nights when she could fall asleep to the thumping of your heartbeat and the sounds of crickets in the bushes. Nights when being so close to you had been for survival - but it had also been a privilege.

…

Rosita was puzzled when she walked into the bedroom one night to find Abraham packing - seemingly clearing out all of the drawers where his things were kept.

It was something that instantly put a knot in her gut, though she tried her best to ignore it. She tried to tell herself that this didn’t mean anything bad.

“Packing your stilettos?” She asked casually, posing it as a joke, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the way her voice shook. “We’ll only be gone a night.”

She was referring to a run that was happening soon - one that he would need a much smaller, lighter bag for.

“I’m goin’.” He replied gruffly, refusing to look up at her as he continued stuffing things into his large duffle bag.

That bad, twisted feeling in her gut continued to brew, and she continued to try and ignore it. She tried to stay steady.

“I am too.” She replied, that shake in her voice now more determined to break through. “But - tomorrow.”

She hoped that he would reply in order to say that he was just overpacking out of paranoia. That his PTSD was acting up again. But instead, he said something that caused her stomach to truly twist up horribly as acid splashed at the back of her throat.

“I’m leavin’.” He declared firmly, finally zipping up the bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

He finally looked at her, finally surrendering. The scared, small look in his eyes - one that she did not recognize from him - finally clued her into what was truly going on.

He was leaving her. He was leaving the house and not coming back. He was leaving the relationship.

Though a small part of her was terrified at the prospect of being alone, something that hadn’t happened in her life in a very long time, she found herself more scared at the realization that: this wasn’t all too upsetting. This wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it should have been for her.

She had found herself drifting away from Abraham for a while. She had never been all too attached to him in the first place. She loved him in a sense, of course. But likely in the same way that she loved Glenn and Maggie and Tara and Eugene. She loved him as someone she couldn’t lose because they had been through too much together.

She knew that she had never loved him as some deep, affectionate romance.

But still, part of her screamed to hold onto him. He was an anchor, he was real. They had been through so much together. They had been a pair for so long. It was difficult to imagine sharing a bed with someone other than him.

“Why?” Rosita whispered, almost afraid to bring the question to life in the air.

“It happens.” Abraham grunted back - short, unwilling to truly explain.

This only made her bubble with anger.

‘No.’ She thought bitterly. ‘Tell me fucking why. Explain it to me if you’re going to leave me alone.’

“Are you serious?” She whispered sharply, more so to herself, angry that he refused to even engage in the conversation - that he was just fleeing without even an explanation.

“This is how I want it.” He added, still refusing to truly engage with her at all.

So now was the time Abraham Ford was choosing to be a man of few words. For hours she had been forced to sit in that stupid fucking truck, listening to him yammer on, listening to his weird metaphors and his winding war stories. And now he was choosing to clam up.

“Why?” She demanded once again, raising her voice louder, trying to force an answer out of him.

“Why are dingleberries brown?” He snapped, raising his voice louder than hers, trying to scare her away from the conversation. “It’s just the way shit is!”

He then moved to leave the room, and she stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the door as she began to scream in his face, demanding answers out of him.

“No, no!” She screamed. “After everything we’ve been through, you are not walking out that door unless you can tell me why! Tell me why!”

She smacked her hands against his chest, trying to force his attention toward her as he stared down the hallway at the front door with intense, militant concentration. Of course. Focus on the mission. Fucking asshole.

Abraham stopped with a huff, grabbing her arms - not with any real force, just to keep her from annoyingly swatting at him as he finally looked down at her, finally ready to give her the answer she so desperately sought.

“When I first met you, I thought you were the last damn woman on earth.” He declared, firm and unapologetic.

A wave of shock went through her, and she went limp under his touch.

Her eyes went wide in a quick moment, they both knew that the other was thinking the exact same thing. It was the truth. The relationship had never been one of fondness or ‘love’ - it had never been one like Maggie and Glenn’s. Their relationship had been one of convenience. One to provide warmth against the coldness of the world. A good fuck to remind you that you’re not dead when there’s so much death around you, right in front of your face.

Before Rosita could speak up, something in her gut telling her to defend herself - her brain screaming to deny the truth, Abraham continued on.

“And I know you thought the same about me.”

He said, finally letting go of the tense hold he had on her wrists - in that moment, both physically and emotionally releasing her. Unconsciously telling her that it was okay for her not to be in love with him. It was okay for her not to be hurt over the end of the relationship.

He wasn’t expecting to be chased.

“And well, I’ve learned to be okay with that. You’re a damn fine woman and I was lucky to have even five minutes with you.”

“Abraham-” She breathed out, unsure where her words were even going.

“But I’ve found someone else.” He declared, charging right past anything she had to say. “And I know that you have too.”

“What?” Rosita gasped, entirely shocked by these words.

She wasn’t entirely shocked by the revelation that Abraham was finally leaving her because of another woman. She had seen him hanging around with Sasha with increasing frequency. She had seen how close they had grown since the church. And she knew that he was too self upstanding to start fucking Sasha behind her back. Of all things, Abraham was not a cheater.

It was the latter half of what he said that really threw her off.

He thought that she had someone else waiting in the wings? Did he believe that Spencer’s stupid one-sided flirting actually meant something to her? He had to know that she absolutely despised the guy, and that she would never pursue a relationship with someone as soft and stupid as Spencer.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She gaped. “Do you think I’ve been cheating on you?”

“No,” He shook his head, as if insulted by the idea. “Dammit - I was hopin’ to make this whole thing easy on you. To make this easier on the both of us so that you’d stop bein’ so damn stupid and just stop lyin’ to yourself. But I guess I’m gonna have to be the one to get the starch of your pants and kick you squarely in the ass, huh?”

He had never before called Rosita stupid. She stood there, gaped with shock for a moment before she gathered the only words that she could.

“Abraham, what are you talking about?” She asked firmly, now well and truly confused.

He was leaving because he wanted to be with someone else. What the hell did that have to do with her being ‘stupid’?

The small grin that graced his lips was the same one he usually held right after he smashed a Walker’s head open, or right after he ripped a particularly nasty fart that polluted the truck in a way that made him laugh when nobody else did.

“Oh come on, darlin’.” He chuckled. “The way you’ve been eyein’ her up - you make it pretty obvious.”

Her?

Abraham wasn’t talking about a guy?

When Rosita stood in dubious silence, Abraham was forced to clue her in.

“Y/N.” He said.

The name hitting the air was like a slap in the face for Rosita.

He was leaving for Sasha, and he - he expected her to go after you?

No.

“Abraham, I’m not - I like guys.” Rosita sputtered out, eager to cover up the odd feeling rising in her throat, the feeling that something was wrong. The sense that she had been caught somehow. “I’ve been having sex with you. What - you think I’m gay all of a sudden?”

“I think you spend a hell of a lot more time lookin’ at that woman’s tits than you ever look at me.” He shrugged in return. “And hell, I can’t blame you. She is one fine-”

“Aye. Stop it.” She hissed sharply, kissing the inside of her teeth while she gave him a glare.

“Alright, I get it. You don’t want me talkin’ about your girl that way.”

“She is not my-” She let out a harsh sigh, cutting herself off while Abraham let out a chuckle.

You would never want her.

But that thought also struck her in the gut harsher than a blade piercing through her skin. The idea that she had been hiding here, cowering in an unhappy relationship with Abraham, hiding from her feelings for you. Hiding from someone she truly wanted to be with because she believed that you would never want her back.

Maybe it didn’t matter if she was gay or straight or whatever. Maybe it mattered most that she was terrified of being rejected. Especially if it was being rejected by you.

There was a pitting silence, in which Abraham stared her down with a knowing look while she turned all this over in her mind, and she hated just how smug he was.

“Shut up.” She spat at him, though he hadn’t said anything, simply wanting to dull volumes that his smugness was hurling at her.

Rosita was now swimming in a terrible mix of feelings - annoyance that Abraham was right, insecurity (something she so rarely felt), fear, anxiety, dread. Those confusing feelings for you bubbling toward the surface. Something she had brushed off before as friendly fondness that she was quickly learning to call affection - romantic affection.

She became even more annoyed when Abraham let out a bright, bellowing laugh, now fully smiling at her. She resisted the urge to smack him, now wanting to blow off some steam by getting into a physical fight. She knew he wouldn’t have taken the bait anyway.

“Fine.” He sighed, still smiling. “You don’t have to believe me. But hell, if a monkey puts on a three-piece suit and believes it’s a man, it’s still a damn monkey.”

She wanted to point out how she hated being compared to a monkey, but she ground her teeth - because he was right. She hated it when he was right.

“Rosita - I love you. I would still die for you or kill for you. Nothing’s gonna change that. But we both know it’s not the same anymore.” He continued on, becoming oddly soft for a moment, making her flex with a small smile now. “And I can’t sit around here waitin’ for it to be the way it was. Hell - I don’t think I want it to be the way it was. I like the way it is now.”

“When did you get all shiny and whole?” She asked, silently knowing that this was the touch of ‘love’ on him - the glimmer of a woman who had made him feel whole in a way that she never could. She found herself oddly okay with that. She enjoyed it, in fact. She was happy for him.

“I started goin’ to church.” He shrugged, throwing out one last bad joke.

Rosita nodded, smiling at him, calmly accepting the truth - he was happier now. At least one of them was.

She just wasn’t sure if she was ready to find her happiness. It was a terrifying prospect - approaching you. Exposing herself to you when she might get rejected. The idea that even if you said yes, even if you felt the same way - she would be embarking on a relationship like one she had never experienced before. She would have something so damn precious to lose.

Abraham turned and began to walk toward the door again, and Rosita reflexively called after him.

“Abraham?” He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Do you think-?”

She choked on her own words, too intimidated to even ask - but of course, he already knew the unspoken question that she was trying to voice.

‘Do you really think that me and Y/N are supposed to be together?’

“I think anybody would be damn lucky to have you.” He said, giving her another strangely warm, genuine smile. “And I know that she spent a hell of a lotta time with her eyes focused on your ass when you weren’t payin’ attention. So I’m pretty sure all you gotta do is go get ‘er.”

Abraham finally took off then, and as the front door shut behind him, Rosita collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

This was the first time in so long that she had been truly afraid.

Terrified that you were so close, yet so far away. Terrified of the idea that she could waltz right up to you and - tell you what? That she was in love with you? (That didn’t sound like a lie. In fact, the longer she sat with it, repeating it in her mind, the more it sounded like the truth. The more it felt like it.) The idea that she could ruin her friendship with you in one single second.

That almost sounded worse than death.

Losing you - having you upset with her and not wanting to be around her - that would be a living hell.

And those words kept ringing through her head.

‘All you gotta do is go get ‘er.’

Fuck - she hated it when Abraham was right.

Forcing herself up with a burst of anger - anger toward Abraham that he had known about this for so long and failed to tell her, that he waited this fucking long - she rushed toward the front door, only to be stopped with Eugene’s hand on her elbow.

“Hey, I thought you said we were gonna watch Star Wars later. I was only able to locate a DVD copy of A New Hope, which I find to be inferior to-”

“Eugene,” She sighed harshly. “When a woman says ‘later’, what she really means is ‘fuck off’.”

He gaped with shock, enough to let her go, and then he began shouting complaints at her. But she didn’t hear or care to hear what he said as she slammed the door in his face, and began swiftly walking (not running, telling herself not to look too stupidly eager) down the street toward Glenn and Maggie’s house.

She had to find you.

The three of you were sitting on the porch, laughing brightly, chatting about something. You and Glenn each had a beer in hand and Maggie was cradling a mug full of something, and she had Glenn’s hoodie draped around her shoulders - it was a very cozy, friendly scene. For a moment, Rosita almost backed off. She almost lost her nerve.

“My Mama used to call it God's Dirty Little Loophole,” Maggie laughed brightly, adding onto whatever conversation the three of you were having. “You're supposed to keep your knees closed before marriage and you don't need to open them to get behind,”

“Yeah it's some kind of dirty hole,” Glenn snarked in response, earning him a light smack and an eye roll from Maggie.

But then - you noticed Rosita, standing in the middle of the dark street. A bright smile broke across your face. And her insides lit up as she remembered in an instant why she was there. She became flared with annoyance once again as she remembered that Abraham was right about the whole thing.

“Ro-Ro!” You chimed, drawing the attention of the other two toward her. This was a playful nickname for Rosita that you had started using while on the road - one she pretended to hate that she only ever let you get away with. “I actually want you to weigh in on this - if you do anal the first time you have sex, does it count as losing your virginity?”

Of course. You were cheerfully talking about something nonsensical and delightfully distracting.

But in that moment, all she could think about was your lips. The way you so sweetly and delicately wrapped around the words, making something so crude seem so perfect.

She knew that she looked like a mindless Walker, drifting up the porch without a word, not even responding to your question - but she couldn’t deny her magnetism toward you any longer. And she didn’t even care that Glenn and Maggie were watching when she grabbed both sides of your head and firmly planted her lips on yours.

You immediately went slack under her touch, almost dropping your beer as you melted into the kiss, gently moaning into her mouth - both of you feeling the intense heat and pure chemistry that you had both been trying to deny for so long. A feeling that had been building up between the two of you since the moment you had met.

(With her back turned to them, Rosita didn’t see the excited, knowing look that the couple gave each other, even exchanging a soft high five as the two of you continued to share that kiss.)

Rosita pulled away from the kiss after a long, perfect moment - and while you looked at her with a dizzy, vacant expression, your whole body tingling, wondering if you were dreaming, she grabbed the beer from your hands and took a long swig. And then she propped herself beside you against the porch railing, turning to face Glenn and Maggie, who were both beaming with smiles.

“Personally, I think the concept of virginity is bullshit.” She said, choosing to answer your earlier question instead of acknowledging the fact that she had kissed you. “Why should anybody let a man’s dick define them? It’s completely barbaric-”

“What’s barbaric is storming out on a man in the middle of a conversation!” Eugene shouted, shuffling up the street in a pair of flip-flops, his flannel pj pants, and his obnoxious ‘Virginia Is For Lovers’ tee shirt.

Rosita rolled her eyes.

“I am not watching Star Wars with you!” She shouted at him, her words echoing down the near empty street.

“Wait - you have Star Wars?” Glenn asked eagerly, turning to the mullet-headed man for confirmation.

“Yes.” Eugene replied. “But some people don’t appreciate the finer points of well-made science fiction.” He eyed Rosita heavily when he said this, and she flipped him a middle finger in response.

Glenn and Maggie exchanged a look, Glenn clearly asking for permission to go and watch the movie, to which Maggie nodded. Glenn grinned widely and kissed Maggie on the forehead before he eagerly fled off the porch. He and Eugene walked away talking excitedly about the film and then, surprisingly, Maggie stood up from her chair.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed early.” She said, giving an exaggerated yawn - and then she tossed a wink in your direction. “Goodnight, y’all.”

“Night, Mags.”

“Goodnight.”

You and Rosita both bid her goodnight - and then, after the front door to the house closed behind her, the two of you were completely alone.

“So - you’re not into letting a man define your life?” You posed, snatching the beer back and downing the last of it.

“Not anymore.” She replied, giving you a grin.

She then grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you firmly once again.

That was the day she realized it. There was a Before and an After.

The time in her life Before you, and then - the time After you.

The time before her world was whole, and after it became whole.

…

Your relationship with Rosita was nothing short of electric.

The first time the two of you had sex was shortly after that first kiss (a matter of hours, actually) - and you had never cum harder than having her between your thighs, pinning you to the bed that Abraham had once slept in while she ate you with a newly discovered passion that had you screaming. (Initially, the two of you had attempted to be discreet, but Glenn and Eugene’s movie marathon certainly didn’t last long after that.)

You knew that the people around town were likely sick of the two of you. Annoyed by the fact that you two were constantly staring at each other, so sickly in love that you couldn’t resist grabbing and groping each other in public, a simple peck of a kiss often turning into something sloppy in front of your friends when you never meant it to.

There was just something so intoxicating about the relationship - likely because the two of you had been trying to hold back your feelings, stuffing down the attraction for so long. And now that you got to experience those feelings so freely, now that you got to be with the person that you had wanted so badly for so long - you couldn’t help but to enjoy it.

You couldn’t help but to enjoy something so good in a world that didn’t seem to have a lot of good in it these days.

That was why you took any opportunity that you could during the day to visit Rosita.

Yes, the two of you lived together now, so you saw her a lot more often. You had moved in with her and Euegene after Abraham had moved out, prompting many jokes from your friends about ‘shacking up’ - both to your face and behind your back. This meant that you saw her almost every single morning (if she didn’t get an early start before you did, or if her job didn’t call for her to pull some overnight duty). And you saw her most nights before you fell asleep, but you still felt like you didn’t get enough of her. Even the domestic bliss wasn’t enough to fulfill you when you were so damn lovesick.

So late one afternoon, after you had dismissed your class, you walked across town to see Rosita. You would deny until your last breath that you semi-regularly dismissed your class early for this specific reason, especially considering that your class was made up of a whopping four kids and they all definitely got more than enough one on one time with you to be well educated.

You knew that she was holding a self defense class for the under-trained, more sheltered Alexandrians in an open field out by the solar panels. If anybody asked, you had released your class early because the kids deserved to enjoy the nice weather and not because you had an alternate agenda.

“You’re going to need to carry a knife on your person at all times,”

She spoke with perfect authority, her voice filling the air in a way that sent chills down your spine. You couldn’t help but to admire her quiet dominance - the natural confidence that she always had when she pressed herself on top of you. You couldn’t help but to imagine that firm, smooth voice next to your ear, giving you instructions about how you were going to behave for her while she took you apart and made you quiver.

“A well sharpened knife could always mean the difference between life and death against a Walker or a person that wants to hurt you,”

You loved watching her work.

She used her own switchblade as an example as she showed the others proper technique - and you couldn’t help but to admire her, a certain kind of deadly heat growing in your stomach as you watched her strong, toned arm wield the blade with confidence, slashing into the air against an imaginary enemy as she continued to spout confident instructions to her class.

Her sleeveless shirt made it easier for you to enjoy the sight of her bronze skin in the bright sun, enjoying the sight of the sheen of sweat that gathered there. You couldn’t help but to imagine tonguing across her bicep in order to lick up that sweat, worshipping her in the filthiest ways to honor her strength, to show her what a great protector she was.

Both of you knew that you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But there was a certain thrill whenever she stepped between you and danger. Whenever she stepped up as your protector. One that you felt now as you were reminded of just how strong she was.

She took another stance, crouching as she slashed her knife through the air again, and she continued to yell more instructions at the class.

Your lust numb brain couldn’t easily take in what she was saying, though.

You simply enjoyed the pleasant warmth of her voice rolling through the air as your mind continued to wander. You remembered visuals of her stabbing that knife into soft Walker skulls and having blood drip down her arms. You thought back to a time during the escape from Terminus when she hadn’t hesitated to stab a man in the eye to keep him away from you and his blood had splashed up onto her cheek, making her angered grimace look all the more heroic as she extended a hand out to you and pulled you back from oncoming gunfire.

At the time, you had been terrified. You had only been thinking of the fight for your life in the face of so much death. But now, you looked back at those memories - flashes of those moments - with a certain fondness. Your mind tunnel-visioned in and you could only see Rosita as a kind of beautiful Combat Barbie, coming to save you.

It was the kind of rose coloured vision that made your pussy wet as you continued to stand there, admiring her as she stood tall at the front of the group, hands on her hips as she spoke more powerful, firm words.

Your eyes continued to fixate on her hands - surprisingly, today she had chosen to forego her typical ‘combat’ gloves. So you were blessed with the sight of her bare, rough knuckles and long fingers twirling the thin handle of the knife around, causing the sharp, shiny blade to glint in the blazing sun.

You almost hated that you couldn’t help but to imagine that blade pressed up against your skin. It was such a filthy thought, but once the fantasy wiggle its way through a tiny gap in your mind - it exploded to life. You knew that you would love how small and powerless you would feel underneath her if she held the knife against your neck. It would be nothing but a threat coming from her - but oh, the things you would do for her under the duress of that threat.

You would love it if she pinned you down and tore your clothes to shreds with the sharpness of her knife, if she ran the cool metal across your skin. Even if she treated you to the sweet, stinging pinch of that knife’s tip in your flesh - just a bit. Just a little kiss of pain to make the pleasure sweeter.

(It was a thought that had you squeezing your thighs together, hoping that your underwear wasn’t utterly ruined.)

Rosita would be the only person you would trust to do it. Someone who had saved you from danger so many times, who had threatened men for even looking at you in a way she didn’t like. She would worship your body with the smallest touch of pain that you needed rather than punishing you cruelly with it. And again, this was a thought that had your pussy throbbing between your thighs as you mocked yourself with something that was probably never going to happen.

(She did like rough sex, but she valued you too much to even consider hurting you.)

You were genuinely surprised when the group she was teaching began to disperse - you hadn’t realized how long you had been standing there, fantasizing about her. You knew that you were lovesick for her - but fuck, you didn’t realize that it was this bad.

Rosita waltzed across the field toward you, and you suddenly felt frozen under her gaze. You knew that it wasn’t anywhere near a crime to come and visit her - in fact, it was probably welcomed. But you were surprised that she didn’t seem happy to see you. She gave you a stern, firm-lipped scowl with tight, stressed brows pressing down from her forehead rather than greeting you with a smile.

Perhaps the class was stressing her out, but you had a feeling that it was something more than that.

“Hey, Ro-” You greeted her with a kind smile and warmth in your voice, and she immediately cut you off, shaking her head as she lifted her leg and retracted the blade of her knife back into the handle with her boot before she tucked it back into the pocket of her pants.

“No.” She said. “What are you doing here?”

Your stomach curled with an odd kind of guilt as she stared you down with piercing eyes. Of course she had noticed that you had been dismissing your class early to come and visit her.

But like you suspected, it was more than that, even if she would never admit it to you. She wasn’t upset about the class she had been teaching or the fact that you had ditched yours in order to come and see her.

Something had happened a few nights ago. Or rather - very early in the morning a few days ago.

When changing over the guard shift, when the sun had just barely been kissing the sky, as she had passed Abraham her sniper rifle at the base of the ladder before he climbed up to take her place, she had made a comment about how she was glad that he hadn’t been late. (Which he had been a few other times.) She was glad because it meant that she could rush home to make you breakfast before you woke up. Your favourite was instant oatmeal with cinnamon - something she liked to wake you up with.

Abraham had chuckled deeply in that jolly way he usually did, and said that he was happy for Rosita, because she had finally found a lover that made her ‘sweet’ and ‘soft’. She had no clue why - but those words got to her. He got inside her head once again. And this time, not for the better.

She hadn’t rushed home to make you breakfast after he relieved her of her duty. And instead, she sharpened her knife and took a walk out in the woods. She spent the next few hours playing target practice with a random tree - throwing her knife into it so hard, over and over again, that she nearly threw out her shoulder, furiously trying to prove to herself that she hadn’t gone soft.

For the past few days, she had been avoiding you, even if you hadn’t realized it yet. She was picking up more guard shifts, teaching more classes, volunteering to do inventory at the armory and acting like she got roped into it whenever you asked to spend time with her.

She simply couldn’t face the fact that after all the relationships she had in the past, relationships she had with men, this relationship was going to be the one to ruin her. In those relationships, she had been so level-headed and detached, she had been able to move on so easily after the break-ups - they had come in and out of her life taking nothing from her and leaving her with valuable life skills.

With you, she was getting soft. She was getting sappy. She was getting attached, she was becoming vulnerable. She was setting herself up to become broken.

With you, she had so much to lose.

Rosita Espinosa - the powerful woman - was going to be broken by you.

“I came to bring you these,” You said brightly, giving her a smile as you extended your hands out, suddenly remembering that you had baked in another excuse to come and see her. You had brought along a bottle of water and a brown paper bag with the other half of a very large sandwich that you had saved from lunch specifically to share with her.

“It’s pink,” She noted with slight suspicion as she took the bottle from you, eyeing it hesitantly.

“It’s an electrolyte drink mix,” You explained. “It’s supposed to be good for you. You’ve been out here in the hot sun sweating all day. You probably need it,”

You resisted the urge to mention how you loved the look of the sweat on her skin - how you would have given her a tongue-bath if she had asked you to. You had a feeling that she wasn’t quite in the mood to hear those remarks from you right now.

She unscrewed the lid and took a few healthy gulps, and found herself thirstier than she was willing to admit, especially when she found that the drink tasted quite good - you were probably right. You were always good at taking care of her in ways that she forgot to take care of herself.

“This is lunch,” You said, shoving the paper bag further into her personal space. “Mrs. Gordon made sandwiches for class today - she wouldn’t stop talking about how she made the bread from scratch. And I would be a lot more annoyed about that if it wasn’t really fucking good,”

After she screwed the cap back on the bottle, she took the bag from you and peeked inside, and her stomach did growl quietly at the sight of the very fat sandwich wrapped in plastic. She had been so busy trying to avoid you that she hadn’t even realized she had skipped breakfast that morning in her rush to get out of bed before you woke up.

“Thanks.” She said, her tone still sour and curt as she closed the bag again, vowing to take a break to eat later.

“Is something wrong?” You felt the need to ask, wondering why she was being uncharacteristically cross with you. Perhaps she was just having a bad day, but it felt like she was angry with you - like you had done something.

She shrugged, shifting her gaze toward the ground.

She hated that she felt the need to avoid you. Especially when she missed you. She hated that something inside of her ached, that she yearned to taste your sweet lips and hear you whimper as she pressed herself between your thighs. But she had to remind herself that the thing inside of her that was yearning was something soft. Something she could afford to have.

“I should probably go.” She said, trying her best to shrug you off. “I have to go relieve Sasha at the guard tower - and I’m pulling double duty tonight, so I probably won’t see you before you go to bed,”

She began to walk away, but your words cut her off.

“So we won’t get to hang out tonight?” You posed, the disappointment dipping through your words almost causing her to waver in her conviction.

She could get someone to cover her shift if she truly wanted to flake off and hang out with you. It’s not like there was some big threat approaching town - guard duty was a precautionary thing, and a lot of people did it because they saw it as an easy job.

Rosita did it to keep herself sharp.

But then another wave of spite crept up inside of her as she remembered that. She needed to stay sharp.

“No, I can’t just ‘hang out’ -”

She swore sharply under her breath in Spanish, and for once it was in a situation that didn’t involve you naked and shoved between her body and some hard surface. You felt oddly scolded by her, as though she knew something that you didn’t.

“I can’t just sit around doing nothing all the fucking time, okay? Not all of us are princesses - some of us have jobs, remember?”

This was the first time she had ever called you ‘princess’ with a tone of an insult to it. This was the first time that she had ever insinuated that you didn’t pull your weight or didn’t do an equal amount of work.

It felt strange - and it definitely felt like it was coming out of nowhere.

“I have a job-” You shot back weakly, shocked.

“Yeah, which you keep blowing off to come visit me like some wide-eyed little housewife.”

She slurred the last word like it was the greatest insult she could muster, causing you even greater shock. Especially considering the last time she had called you that had been with her knee rocking between your thighs from behind, pressing precisely into your cunt while you made dinner for her and she purred into your ear about how pretty you looked in the dumb ruffled apron that Carol had given to you.

You couldn’t pinpoint why she was so angry, and before you could formulate a reply to her dumbfounding words, someone else disrupted the conversation between the two of you.

“Y/N?” Carl was walking up to you, holding the novel you had assigned to him in class. “I have some questions about the book - can we talk?”

“Go do your job,” Rosita snarled at you. “I have to go do mine.”

You tried to brush off the bizarre conversation as you turned to Carl to discuss the book, but you definitely weren’t going to let it go.

…

Later than night, after you had gotten off working a volunteer shift helping out at the pantry with Olivia, you were walking home by yourself, wondering how you were going to approach the problem with Rosita when the solution practically fell into your lap.

You were carrying a white plastic laundry basket with some things in it - a plate of cookies wrapped in plastic given to you by Carol (delivered with that sickly sweet fake smile that always freaked you out a bit, especially because she only did it in front of other people); a jacket that Rosita had needed mended, now freshly sewn up by Olivia; a couple of pairs of jeans that you liked swiped from the community clothing bin; and a ‘new’ pair of boots that you thought Rosita would like, hoping that the gift would put her in a better mood. All that, and some rationed food supplies for the week for your household.

With the canned goods and the boots in the basket, it was slightly heavy, but you were balancing it on your hip and the way home wasn’t that far. It wasn’t like Alexandria was some large, sprawling metropolis - walking from one end of town to the other took less than five minutes, even when you walked at a leisurely stroll.

You thought you had it handled, but it seemed that your arms were pretty exhausted from the day. You had helped to unload a large haul that Glenn’s scavenging group brought back, so your back and your arms were aching from lifting all the boxes - many of them containing heavy books and paper supplies for your future classes, which you were incredibly thankful for, even if they were a pain in the ass to carry all the way down to the house that you used as a makeshift school.

Between that and your mental distraction, thinking about Rosita, you weren’t entirely surprised when your grip wavered and the basket slipped out of your hand, accidentally spilling your goods out across the vacant street.

At least - a street you thought was entirely vacant for the night.

You let out a defeated sigh and dropped to your knees, beginning to gather up everything, just feeling glad that the plastic wrap was on tight enough that it had secured the cookies to the plate and you hadn’t lost your treat. You watched with intense fatigue as a can of your spaghetti rings rolled away - especially knowing that it was one of Rosita’s favourites, and again, you wanted to cheer her up with it, but you were almost too tired to chase the damn thing down the pavement.

But you were surprised when someone appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stopped it with their foot.

Your brief moment of relief was entirely ruined when their voice broke through the air.

“Need a hand?”

Spencer.

Your gut twisted with disappointment and dread as you looked up the length of his body and saw him grinning down at you. You just hoped that those emotions weren’t too visible, not entirely written across your face as you forced a smile back.

One awful thing about living in such a small town - you had to be polite to all of the people living there. You had to make nice with the residents to avoid being stuck behind the walls with endless petty drama. As much as you hated Spencer, you had to put up a front of likeability around him. Especially because he was Deana’s son.

“Uh - yeah. Thanks.” You replied, shoving a few more things into your basket and rushing to get off the ground, hoping that you could make up some excuse that would get you home as quickly as possible.

Spencer was - he was a piece of work.

He was one of the only people in town who outright refused to acknowledge your relationship with Rosita. As much as the two of you engaged in PDA or as many times as your friends made jokes about the two of you being like ‘an old married couple’ - he never seemed to acknowledge it. Not once.

And strangely enough, it didn’t seem to be out of homophobia. But instead, it seemed to be for the fact that he had some kind of one-sided obsession with Rosita. And since Abraham had broken up with her, he thought that he deserved an ‘opportunity’ to date her instead of you. You honestly couldn’t figure out which was worse - if he was actually a homophobe and he was just pretending to be okay with Aaron and Eric’s relationship and Tara and Denise’s, or the latter, which seemed a lot more likely to be true.

Whenever Spencer interacted with Rosita, he complimented her in some skeezy way - he commented on her looks, he called her nicknames that she hated (like ‘babe’, or ‘sweetheart’). He kept trying to ask her over for dinner, kept trying to invite himself into your home to fix things that weren’t even broken (the ‘leaky’ faucet, the hot water heater, the ‘creaky’ floorboards).

He had blatantly said in conversation multiple times that your home would function better with ‘a real man in it’. It had been the one time you had been thankful for Eugene and his big mouth - because he always reminded Spencer that he was the man of the house. Even though, compared to Eugene, with his Star Trek sheets and his sock monkey, Rosita most definitely was the man of the house. She was the one who knew how to fix up things and killed the spiders that Eugene screamed like a girl about.

The last time you had needed a light bulb changed but Rosita had been off on a run, you had made a point of inviting Abraham over to do it, and having beers with him on the porch after he had finished. When Spencer walked by, looking for Rosita, Abraham told him very blatantly to ‘get the fuck off my porch’ - even though it was no longer his house, and Spencer hadn’t stuck around after that.

Spencer picked up the few cans that had rolled away on you and put them in the basket, and before you could beat him to it, he picked up the basket and gave you another unsettling smile.

“Is this going to your place?” He asked, looking over the items and knowing that was the only obvious answer.

“Uh - yeah.” You replied. “I - I can take it from here.” You said, holding out your hands, patiently waiting for him to hand you back the basket, but sadly - knowing that it likely wasn’t going to go over that easily with him.

He was stubborn. And because you were known around Alexandria as ‘the school teacher’ - he wasn’t intimidated by you. He had never seen you bashing Walkers skulls or gutting unkind men when you had been forced to.

“Oh come on, I can walk you home.” He said, a breathy chuckle in his voice. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be lugging around all this stuff anyway. What do you even have in here - some snacks, ooh - are these boots for Ro?”

He gave another glance at the basket and then put it off to the side, back on the ground - dismissing it for now. You knew that you could have just picked it up and walked away, but you feared that he would have followed you home. Eugene had mentioned playing some card game with Tara and Noah, so you weren’t sure if he was there. Even if he wouldn’t be of any use in protecting you, you knew that Spencer wouldn’t try anything if another man was watching over you. He was a bastard like that.

“Rosita.” You easily corrected him, annoyance angling on your breath.

“What?” He replied, confused.

“Rosita.” You repeated, firmer. “She only goes by Rosita. That’s her name.”

You didn’t bother making the distinction that she only let you call her Ro, or Ro-Ro - that you got special privileges because you were her girlfriend. Any time you brought up things like that, Spencer usually breezed right past it in conversation. He wasn’t someone who usually cared about facts.

You felt a pair of eyes on you, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you saw the glint of something dancing in the moonlight. You didn’t know that it was Rosita’s sniper rifle, perfectly pointed at Spencer’s head while he continued to smile at you in that utterly creepy way.

It had not been your intention to wander past her lookout perch on your way home - it just worked out that way. For a lingering moment, her finger sat comfortably on the trigger, heavily considering putting a bullet through his brain for talking to her girl like that - for even daring to look at you like that. She wanted to prove to him and everyone else in this fucking town that her love for you did not make her soft. If anything, it made her more powerful and ruthless than ever, she realized.

But then she considered that if she shot him so suddenly, it might scare you. You didn’t deserve to be dirtied with his blood. And if she killed him, if she killed Deanna’s son, she might risk getting kicked out. She couldn’t risk losing the home she had always wanted for you.

There was another way to get this done.

“Whatever,” Spencer chuckled lightly.

He shrugged off what you had said, and when you moved to pick up the basket off the ground, he very pointedly stepped in your way, causing a harsh knot to twist in your gut as he crowded into your personal space. He continued to hold your basket hostage while he looked you up and down with an odd kind of… lust lingering in his gaze. You always knew that he had a thing for Rosita, but you had never considered what might happen if he turned that disgusting attention toward you.

Even though it had only been a few moments, you quickly learned to hate it.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me walk you home,”

You choked on your breath, strangely enough, you did not feel brave enough to call him out on the nickname and tell him how much you hated it. Maybe it was because you eyed the gun on his belt, one he technically wasn’t supposed to have according to his mother’s rules - or because he was much taller than you, towered over you.

As you took another glance down the street and realized how truly vacant it was - your hand drifted to your belt and you realized that the leather holster that usually kept your knife was empty. Something Rosita would have scolded you for endlessly - but you had been using it to open some of the (miraculously) untouched boxes that Glenn had brought back in order to unpack them, and in your tired state, you had forgotten it - left it behind. The rigid, important rules that Rosita had been teaching in her class earlier that day had already been broken by you.

So now you were stranded on an empty street with Spencer staring you down in an uncomfortable, piercing way, insisting that he walk home with you. He had a gun and he was trying to get you alone in an enclosed space. All of your danger alarms were screaming and you had no clue what to do.

“What time does Ro get off?”

He asked, further reminding you just how vulnerable you were. It was a question you didn’t want to answer because she had told you that she was working a double shift of guard duty and that meant she wouldn’t be back at the house until the early morning. When you were speechless at his question, he reached out, brushing fingers down your neck in a way that made you recoil slightly, tempted to simply run away until you made it to Glenn and Maggie’s.

“I’m sure we could make the bed and nice and cozy before she gets back-”

“No.” You said, finally finding your voice to reject him, utterly disgusted by the implications behind his words.

When you tried to step away from him, moving to act on the idea to simply abandon your supplies in favour of running away (hoping to find Abraham or Rick or Michonne or Daryl or someone) - he reached out and snatched your arm, gripping your wrist so tightly that it startled you, and caused you to freeze as an uncomfortable pain bloomed from the spot where he dug his grip into your flesh.

Panic spread through you, and your breath stilled in your chest. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

“No?” He repeated back, clearly aghast that you would dare to speak the word to him. In a moment, he shifted from playing at kindness to something a lot darker - rage painted across his features in a way that utterly terrified you. “Come on, I’ve seen the way you look at me. You can’t tell me that you waltz around here in those tight pants and those low cut little shirts because you don’t want a man’s attention,”

The only person’s attention you ever wanted was Rosita’s.

You tried pulling away from him, but he dug his hand into your wrist harder, making you wince. Your heart thumped inside your chest, and you wondered for a terrified moment if he would be the type of person to stab you or shoot you in the head and then spin some story about how a Walker got you.

“No, I-”

“Y/N.”

You let out a breath of relief when Rosita’s voice came from behind you, and Spencer’s touch quickly retracted from you - like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, quick to rip his hand back from something he knew he wasn’t supposed to be touching. Though she had been angry the last time you had seen her, you found an intense comfort in watching her approach - you knew that an angry Rosita would always be kinder and safer than a Spencer who pretended to be kind.

You melted into her touch as she wrapped a firm arm around your shoulders from behind, pulling you into her and very pointedly away from Spencer, making a gap between you and him as she glared at the man over your shoulder.

“Everything good here, babe?” She said, her voice low, her breath puffing against your cheek, the words very clearly directed at you, but still loud enough for him to hear them.

“Better now.” You sighed, leaning into her body, feeling protected by the arm around you - by the warmth of her presence against your back, and the hard prodding against your lower back that you knew had to be a knife on her belt. (One she would never carelessly forget somewhere.)

Spencer, clearly anxious under Rosita’s gaze, scrambled to explain himself.

“I was just-”

“You were just backing the fuck away from my girl.” Rosita barked out sharply, cutting off whatever bullshit he would attempt to spew.

You would be lying if you said that the power and dominant possessiveness in her words didn’t turn you on. It was something that had been latent in you for hours - since you had become obsessed, watching her handle her knife with so much skill while she taught her class. And now it was back again with a vengeance as she woefully let you go and stepped around your body to face Spencer, rearing up against him as though she were ten feet tall, even though she had to crane her neck to make eye contact with him.

“Come on-”

“No.” She growled. “Whatever you were gonna say - no. Whatever you’re thinking - no. Whatever you think you can do - fuck no.”

She then pointed to the basket on the ground, and with power so intense that it nearly crackled in the air, she ordered out:

“Pick it up.”

“W-what?” He stuttered out, clearly intimidated by her but making some feeble attempt to stand his ground.

“You heard me, bendejo. Pick. It. Up.”

Spencer then moved toward it in jolting motions just as stuttery as his words, and you watched with intense magnetism, in utter awe of Rosita’s power as he bent below her and picked up the basket, and then she snatched it from his limp arms and in turn, shoved the rifle from her watch duty into his arms, which he clumsily took.

If he had anything more to say, he didn’t dare attempt to get the words out. Not while she was looking at him with a tight jaw and fire in her eyes.

“I’m gonna take this, and you’re gonna take my watch, and you’re gonna feel lucky that you get to walk away from this with all your limbs intact, comprende?” She spat out harshly, putting a thick accent on the last word, showing just how angry she was with him.

“Ro, I was just joking around-” He made one last attempt to make amends, and one final, fatal mistake along with it.

“It’s Rosita.” She corrected him sharply. “And you can go ‘joke around’ - by yourself, at the top of that fucking watch tower.”

She said, clearly injecting a double meaning to her words as she propped the basket on one hip and pointed to the tower she had just come from.

“I’m gonna take my stuff back to my home and fuck my wife in my bed - because that’s my goddamn job, not yours.”

Rosita put an intense amount of fire on the possessive words, causing goosebumps to spring up across your skin within seconds.

Before Spencer could speak another word, Rosita put that free hand on your lower back and ushered you away, leaving Spencer gape-mouthed in the middle of the street and shocked at the pure vulgarity of her words.

Which was something that had your pussy throbbing between your thighs as you took a sideways glance at her still very mean, rage fueled expression. It was the most vulgar way she had ever claimed you in front of someone else - and especially after the conversation the two of you had that afternoon, you had a feeling that whatever crisis she was having was most definitely over.

She had a new mission in mind now - a new divine purpose.

…

And that divine purpose started with shoving you down onto the bed so roughly that the springs screamed in protest. But neither of you could come close to caring as she kicked the bedroom door closed with her foot and shed her jacket - you stared at her with lustful eyes as she flipped off her hat as well, causing a few stray hairs to escape from her neat ponytail. She was a vision in a tight tank top, the round neckline dipping to reveal just the right amount of cleavage, her jeans tight as usual with her knife holster clipped to the hip, making her look all the more powerful.

You were settled in the middle of the smooth comforter (you always made it a habit to make the bed - you liked to keep a neat and tidy home, even though it didn’t matter much these days) on your elbows as you watched her, trembling with anticipation as to what would come next. You wondered what was in store for you with such a powerful woman - if she would treat you like a precious angel as she normally did, or if you were finally in for the punishment that you had always craved at her hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She huffed out, her power and intensity filling the room to capacity, making it near impossible for you to breathe as you continued to stare up at her, mesmerized.

It left you speechless - unable to answer the question, your brain numb to the fact that she had even asked you something as you squirmed aimlessly, unconsciously seeking friction between your thighs.

“Hey!”

She shouted, crowding into your personal space, planting a firm knee on the bed between your thighs and grabbing your face with a fierce, tight grip - her thumb digging into your cheek on one side and her two fingers disturbing soft skin almost down into your teeth on the other.

“I’m fuckin’ talking to you.” She snarled, her quiet voice much more intimidating than a full on scream. “What’s wrong with you, are you stupid? Why the fuck were you talking to him?”

The feeling of being underneath her, being trapped there - it made your heart thump and made your pussy ache, but strangely, something inside of you flared with defiance. Something in you screamed to see just how far this would go.

“Me?” You snapped back in reply. “He approached me! He-”

Rosita didn’t care to listen to the rest of your excuses - her anger at Spencer was still boiling inside of her, and she was too tense and fed up from all the emotions that had been running high inside of her for the past few days. She had been trying to avoid you, trying to deny everything she felt for you. She needed to protect you, to keep you away from scum like him - but you were too damn stubborn. You couldn’t just shut up and see how special you were - how perfect you were.

She pulled her grip away from your face, hauling her hand back and swinging her arm to collide the back of her hand sharply with your face. At the same time, she shoved her knee right up against your cunt, making for a dizzying combination when pain bloomed across your cheek and the first bit of contact caused between your thighs tingles to spread through your swollen, aching pussy - trapped inside of your jeans. The combination of sensations made you moan weekly and arch into her touch, only proving how much you needed her.

“Puta!”

She spat out harshly, the filthy word bouncing off your skull in the most delightful way. She could call you anything in her velvet voice and your pussy would leak because of it.

She then reached down to take a hold of your throat, tentatively gripping, not nearly enough to make you dizzy - just enough to truly possess you, to show you that she was in charge. It was something that had you gasping and leaning into the touch, aching for more. And she shoved her knee tighter against your clothed cunt while she gave you another sharp glare.

“You should have been at home! You stupid slut! What the fuck do you expect when you’re running around out there at night, huh? You think the world is gonna treat pretty little whores like you nicely?”

It was her very guarded way of telling you that she cared. Her way of telling you that she had moved you into her home so quickly after the relationship started because she wanted you to be protected. She preferred that you took a calm day job as a school teacher while she was the one on guard duty, the one out beyond the walls doing runs so that you wouldn’t have to worry about facing the harsh reality of the world. She would have killed a thousand men for you if it kept your hands clean and your mind unburdened.

She probably would have killed Spencer to protect you if she hadn’t been more worried about the consequences from Deana.

But still - instead of telling her that you had been working at the pantry, filling your basket with things to bribe her into a better mood with, that defiant thing rose up inside of you again. That thing that begged for her to squeeze harder around your neck - for her to strip off your clothes and fuck you senseless. That part of you that was angry that she had been so harsh with you earlier that afternoon.

“Maybe I liked it,” You choked out, rubbing yourself down against her knee, unable to resist playing the whore that she accused you of being. “Maybe I was happy to finally get some attention from someone,”

Unknown to you, this was just the right button to push. Rosita’s possessive instincts flared up again, and she ticked with rage as she became fueled by the goal to have you thinking of nobody but her.

“Oh, attention?”

She mocked you, the faux-sweet tone already making you dizzy. Your stomach flipped when she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the switchblade from earlier that day - your breath hitched as she pushed the button, flipping out the blade and causing it to glint in the light. She had seen the way you had been staring at her during the class - the lustful look on your face so damn readable. Of course she was going to use that to her advantage.

She leaned down, putting more pressure on the hand holding your throat as she brought the blade close to your cheek, causing you to let out a harsh whimper.

“Seemed like you only wanted my attention when I had this in my hand.”

“Ro-” You whined, arching up, unintentionally making yourself breathless as you leaned into her tense palm stuck to your throat, pressing the seam of your jeans tightly to your clit where her knee was still so firm between your legs.

It was a combination of sensations that made your brain melt between your ears in the most perfect way. All too quickly, your bratty act melted away, and now, you were incredibly pliant under her touch and all too desperate to see what she would do next.

She let out a mocking laugh, giving you a grin that could have cut down a field of Walkers with its sharpness, and your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for her next move.

“What, babydoll? Are you so damn eager for the slightest lick of attention that you don’t care if it’s my fingers or my knife? You want me to slice you up?”

You knew it was insane, but you couldn’t deny how fucking soaked you were - and you knew she felt the heat coming off your cunt, that she saw the lust absolutely glossing over your eyes.

A look of dawning came across Rosita’s face - shock flickered over her features for just a moment before it was restored to calm, intense control. She was hit with the realization that you truly wanted this - you truly wanted the pleasurable pain that her knife could bring you, especially when she was the one controlling it. She gave your throat a tiny squeeze, ensuring you that she could give you exactly what you needed before she continued.

“Oh my god - you really do want this, huh? You crazy slut.”

You gave a nod and let out a moan - a sound that only doubled in on itself when she placed the cool blade flat against your cheek, beginning to oh-so-slightly skim the sharp edge along your soft skin.

“Hmm…” She said, as though truly contemplating. “No, I can’t mark up this pretty face.”

Then she moved the knife downward, and you let out a sharp gasp when you felt it press under the thin strap of your tank top. You were wearing it under a loose flannel, which had mostly fallen off your shoulders in your haste to get to the bed and was now tangled around your elbows. You hadn’t put on a bra that morning, as the only good one you had needed a hole sewed up in it, and you knew that your lust-hardened nipples were more than visible through the thin fabric of your tank top.

“Maybe… here?” She grinned at you, pretending to be indecisive when she was the most sure-minded person that you knew.

You let out a loud, rattling moan when she yanked the knife upward, tugging it through the fabric of the strap, cutting it completely loose and free from your body. This left only your shoulder bare and didn’t even mark your skin, but the act of her cutting off your clothes felt so erotic to you that your blood was thumping even harder through your veins. You couldn’t hold yourself back from grinding even harder against her knee, humping her like a bitch in heat as you panted harshly into the air, gasping for breath and becoming utterly overwhelmed with lust.

“I shouldn’t even let you have clothes,”

She whispered furiously, skimming the tip of the knife along your cleavage, barely pressing it down, leaving behind just a tiny sting where the utmost point scraped across your skin - just enough to leave you buzzing and arching up into the touch. By the time she let go of your throat, passing off the knife into her other hand to place it under the other strap, you were panting earnestly, watching her with intense rapture.

“I should just keep you here, in this room, naked. I should keep you in a fucking cage so that scum like Spencer can never even look at you,”

Her words alone made your clit practically vibrate between your thighs, utterly entranced by the idea of being a caged whore for her.

She punctuated this point by ruining the other strap, making quick work of it. So quick that the tip of the knife left the tiniest little indenture on your shoulder, one so small that it drew up the barest little droplet of blood. Of course, she was eager to lean down and tongue over it, moaning into your skin as she sucked this small trace of blood down, making you shove your fingers into her hair and moan loudly in return.

“Rosita, please!”

“Say that you’re mine.” She demanded, her breath becoming airy too, showing that you definitely weren’t the only one affected by this.

“I’m yours,”

You were her mindless puppet now, and you easily complied with the demand. You absolutely loved the feeling of the words on your tongue while you looked into her dark eyes, loving the honey sweet madness that danced there - something that was eventually going to drive you insane but made you feel perfectly at home for now.

“Again!” She barked.

The power was swallowing her whole, but she couldn’t help it. If she had you, she was capable of anything.

“I’m yours!” You replied, louder this time, more desperate.

“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?”

She posed, moving to straddle you across your thighs, sadly removing her knee from between your legs and taking away the thing you had to hump against. She pinned you to the bed with her body weight while she brought the knife to the top of your shirt, slicing into the fabric and quickly tearing it apart, revealing your heaving breasts - your nipples pebbled tight with lust.

“Going out after dark, going out alone - are you fucking stupid?”

Stupidly, as she accused you of being, you thought this was actually a question that required you to answer.

“I thought-” You began, but she sharply cut you off, pressing the blade to your lips in a way that made you immediately freeze up, letting out a whimper.

“That’s it! That’s the whole fucking problem!” She hissed in return. “A dumb slut like you shouldn’t be allowed to think. You’re just a stupid little fuckhole. You should know your place.”

You began panting harshly again as she ran the knife down across your neck - just barely skimming the blade across your skin as she ran it down your chest and over the mounds of your breasts, teasing you as your panting became more intense with anticipation. The whole time, she stared you down with a very certain, serious gaze. You felt so delightfully trapped underneath her - there’s no other place in the world you would have rather been.

“Do you know your place?” Rosita asked, utterly serious.

You nodded in quick jolts, believing that she didn’t want you to speak again.

“Then tell me.”

“I’m yours.” You babbled out again, loving to say it, knowing it was an answer she liked to hear.

“And?” She prompted.

With your brain so focused on the sharp edge running across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and your cunt throbbing between your thighs, you had to rack your brain for what felt like a moment too long, desperately looking for the answer.

“I’m - I’m a stupid fuckhole,” You stuttered out.

This revelation earned you the end of your teasing - Rosita finally, precisely, dipped the end of the knife against your breast, making a small, sharp cut right above your nipple. Something no bigger than a paper cut that leaked the smallest amount of blood - a cut that likely wouldn’t even leave a scar.

Still, the feeling made you moan like a whore as you arched up wildly, the endorphins driving your body wild. She didn’t leave you hanging for long, immediately dipping her head down to tongue along the cut, not letting the blood escape her as she laved over the small cut before she engulfed your tit completely into her mouth. She sucked so harshly on the flesh, devouring you in a way that made you moan even louder and thrash underneath her.

You didn’t have room to be upset at the fact that she didn’t linger there for long, because she began to descend down your body with more wet, open-mouthed kisses. She even threw in a few harsh, sucking bites - clearly determined to mark you, even if it was in places that nobody would see. Your thighs shook with anticipation and your throat became choked off in your own spit. Especially when she reached for your jeans and was absolutely merciless in ridding them from your body, using her knife to desomate the button in such a harsh way that it clinked on the floor somewhere.

In the back of your mind, you were thankful that you had picked up those new pairs of jeans. But that ghost of a thought completely dissolved off as she ripped the denim off you, her patience clearly thin and growing thinner by the second. She then took her knife to the leg hole of your underwear at your hip - proceeding to completely cut them off your body. She was forced to peel the scraps off you with how wetly it was stuck to your pathetically hot, overwhelmed cunt. Something that both turned you on a little bit more.

She swore under her breath as she was faced with the sight - your pussy now freely leaking onto the bed, absolutely throbbing, clearly so utterly needy for her.

Eye level with your weeping gash, you thought for certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to dive in. You thought that she would want to make an example out of forcing orgasms out of you until you cried just to prove how much you needed her. And you were surprised when she rose up on her knees, locking eyes with you once again.

“You really wanna be mine?” She asked, a surprising timidness creeping into her voice.

“Of course,” You replied, a sex-addled warbling in your tone that made it sound like you had been thoroughly fucked even though she hadn’t touched you yet.

“You trust me?” She wondered quietly.

You had to wonder why she even asked the question, but you gave your most honest answer.

“More than anything in the world, Ro.”

It was a passionate declaration on your part - one that made her entirely certain about her next move.

She grabbed the meat of your inner thigh with her left hand, pinning your leg down to the bed and forcing you open in a way that made you think her fingers or her tongue were coming next. You received a delightful shock when she took the knife in her right hand and brought the tip of it to the soft, delicate flesh of your inner thigh with intense precision and certainty.

Sharp stings of pain ran up your body from the place where she dug the knife into your skin, and you began to moan.

It wasn’t even close to the worst pain you had ever felt, and with the lustful heat already so intense inside of you, your body couldn’t help but to interpret this as the most glorious kind of pain. Especially with the feeling of her hand on your thigh, the knowledge that she was the one doing this to you - it certainly didn’t feel wrong. In fact - it felt so damn right.

If she hadn’t been holding you down so firmly, you certainly would have been writhing under her. You knew that your pussy was leaking even more, and the sight of your hole pulsing and clenching around nothing with utter need was the only thing that broke her concentration even slightly. It was lucky that she finished up quickly, and didn’t take intense genius to partake in what she needed to do.

All too soon, she removed the knife from your skin, leaving you aching with the dull aftershocks of the sweet pain. You choked out another moan when she lifted the now red-soaked tip to her mouth and licked your blood off it. She hummed with pride at the taste, feeling utterly content as she looked down at the modestly sized but very clear sight of her initials now carved into your thigh.

You were marked as hers forever now.

“Ro, Ro, please-”

You moaned out, now somehow more desperate than ever, shaking with need, absolutely desperate for her to touch you. She placed the knife on an empty spot beside you, abandoning it for now, very tempted to never wash it again now that it was blessed with your blood.

“Hey, shh. I’ve got you,” She said, her voice dropping low in a perfectly delicious way. “You’re all mine now.”

She got low on her stomach once again, propping herself between your legs to collect her prize. She opened her mouth and swiped her tongue across your inner thigh, making the wounds sting even fiercer as she licked up the blood that was freely leaking down onto the bed (mentally vowing that she would bandage you up properly later). And then, she finally turned her head and used that copper tinted tongue to make a greedy swipe along your swollen, untouched cunt - a move that made you moan and arch into her as a lust that had been festering in you all day was finally working to be released.

She didn’t hesitate from there - you were hers now. Utterly, undeniably hers, and no girl of hers was going to leave her bed unsatisfied.

She pinned your knees to the bed wide open, careful not to dig her fingers into the freshly cut skin, still admiring her work out of the corner of her eye and absolutely loving it. She latched her lips into your mound and began jabbing her tongue against your swollen clit - sucking the swollen bead intensely and loving every wrecked noise you let out. Loving the feeling of your heartbeat throbbing under her lips, loving the way you kept desperately trying to buck up into her touch even though your body was already too worn out to do so.

You could do little more than lay there and take it as she opened her jaw wide and laved her tongue over you, drinking up as much of your wetness as possible, intent to truly devour you. She loved how your sweetness mixed with your tinny blood on her tongue - both so sharp and bitter and so utterly you, your essence now absolutely entrenched in her veins, part of you inside of her that would never be able to be washed away.

She was marked just as deeply as she had marked you.

Truthfully - Rosita knew she had been marked by you since the day she had first laid eyes on you.

It was likely why she was so determined to leave a lasting scar on you - so determined to have proof that you were hers. It was why she was driven so mad by the idea of another man even looking at you when she had barely been bothered by him flirting with her for weeks before that. She wanted to protect you from the horrors of the world, she wanted to keep you high on a pedestal where nothing could ever reach you.

She wanted to crawl inside of you to have your warmth constantly surrounding her because the touch of a man had never compared for her. It had never even come close to this.

She wanted to bathe in your cunt and the pretty sounds you made whenever she fucked you like this. She wanted to own you the same way that the earth owns the sun - not in truth, but in the belief that it could be possible while bathing in that perfect warmth without completely burning up.

“Please, please, please-”

You chanted, humping yourself mindlessly against her face while she selfishly sucked on your clit, not yet with true intent to make you cum, but simply enjoying your taste - simply bathing in that warmth.

But then she was reminded of her job, reminded of her sacred duty to you. So she took one of her hands off your knee, bringing her fingers - slightly calloused, strong from all the hard work she did to protect the community, to protect you, firm from all the time she spent wielding knives and working the trigger of a gun. And she didn’t hesitate to slide those fingers inside of you while she tongued furiously over your clit. She finger-fucked you wetly, causing intense, filthy sounds to resonate through the room while you gasped for air.

“Rosita!”

She hummed against your clit at the pure enjoyment of her name on your lips, and it was those small vibrations that sent you hurdling over the edge, bringing your orgasm crashing down over you.

You arched up off the bed and flooded around her fingers as you went near-silent, absolutely breathless while your body was rocked by the impossible sensation - your cunt now smeared with blood as your wounds continued to leak freely. Rosita leaned in and tongued over the wound again, enjoying another coppery mouthful with a heady moan of her own as she continued to finger you through your orgasm.

When she finally pulled away, your heart throbbed at the sight of her - her chin covered in your wetness, her dark hair wild and falling from its once neat ponytail, her lips covered in a trace of red that was more perfect than any lipstick you could have ever imagined. You couldn’t help but to smile at her as you pulled her in for a kiss, savouring the taste of yourself on her tongue.

…

She took the time to bandage your leg nicely before the two of you went to sleep. The simple kiss that she laid on top of the bandage meant more to you than any complex words she could have spun.

You were truly hers now. And there was no running from that.

…

The next day when you went to visit her as she prepared for a run - oddly enough, one that would have Spencer on the crew - there was a distinct soreness to your gait. One that made it look like you had just gotten off a very long horse ride as you tried not to rub your sore inner thigh up against your other leg while you walked. Spencer gave you a strange look as you bid Rosita good luck on the run and gave her a long, heated kiss on the mouth - but both of you ignored him.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This story is complete as it is, so if you are going to comment, please only comment about the content that has already been written instead of asking for more.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging to show your appreciate, or check out more of my writing on my Walking Dead Masterlist. Happy reading!

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