#but i wanted so many moments of normal life in hell and i wanted them all

[visceravalentines]

fever dream

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

7.6k words. dubcon ofc. reader is absolutely mentally bankrupt. stockholm is where we live, it's where we are, it's where we'll die. sporadic smut, pnv, fingering, and oral (fem!rec). blood and sweat everywhere. Bo calls reader a bitch a couple times but like, it's out of love or some shit. somno. alcohol use. nightmares. ghosts. swamp things. the ever-looming threat of death and depersonalization.

welcome back to my youtube channel. I have been. working on this fic. since May of last year. and it's finally done(?) it is long and weird and maybe bad and meant for you to get lost in. a journey with no destination. a haunted house only you are the haunted and the haunt and the house. tbqh I'm rewatching HoW today for the first time in months and months and I had to get this out of my drafts so I can check back into the sanitarium with minimal baggage, y'know?? I hope it makes you feel some type of way.

The summer heat is in your blood and the swamp is in your lungs and he is under your skin. 

You’ve never known an August like this, like a blister. You go to bed sticky and wake up drenched in sweat. The ceiling fan is a hurricane agent that offers no respite, just blows the humidity in vicious cycles. There’s no air conditioning in the house; it’s too old. Instead you wrap ice cubes in dish towels and press them to the back of your neck. 

A storm’s been hanging on the horizon for days. Thunder rolls out of a wall of iron gray, an idle threat. The air is soupy and super-charged. No rain comes. 

The nights are delirium. You go to bed on opposite sides of the mattress, oil and water. He sleeps naked, sprawled out like a water skeeter. The quilt sits scrunched at the foot of the bed for the season and he kicks the sheets off around midnight like something forcing its way out of a soft-shelled egg. 

You lie awake, listening to the cicadas and waiting. Just when you’ve started to cool down and drift off he reaches over and fumbles at your leg, grabs your arm. He pulls you on top of him, hands on your body beneath his old t-shirt. You ride him with your eyes closed and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever, the sweating, the shaking. 

You wake every morning suffocating under his arm in the center of the mattress with honey between your thighs. 

.

He drinks his coffee hot even though the steam can barely rise above the rim of the mug in the humidity. You pour yours over ice and savor the feeling as it seeps down your throat and into your stomach. You curl your toes on the linoleum and almost smile at him across the table. He’s golden from all his time in the sun. You can trace the lines of his wifebeater over his shoulders, across his chest. You stare at him across the table and think about the taste of his skin. You want to run your tongue along that tan line. 

He catches you staring. “What?” he says flatly. 

You redirect your gaze to your hands. Shake your head. Wait for him to move on so you can resume your perusal of his body.

When he looks away, out the window, the sun catches those eyes and turns them to sea glass. He needs a haircut; walnut curls crest over his ears like kudzu. When you get up to clear the table your skin peels from the vinyl seat cushion with a sting that makes you wrinkle your nose. 

“Be good,” he tells you before he leaves. You wonder what he means, what he thinks you might get up to in this house full of dust and guns and ghosts. You know better than to ask, and you nod and kiss him goodbye and feel his lips on your lips for hours afterwards. 

The day languishes. They all do. You kill a thousand flies. You mop the floor and track your own footprints across it before it dries. You hang his shirts on the clothesline in the side yard and feel like an insect trapped in the sap of time. You shave your legs in a cold bath and examine your skin:  sunburn, bug bites, bite marks. 

When he pulls into the driveway you’re on the front step eating a popsicle and counting the minutes. He saunters across the gravel like John Wayne, shoulders exposed, hair plastered to his neck. You meet his eyes and wrap your lips around the cherry-flavored mess dripping onto your fingers. He spits into the weeds and eyes you through his lashes. 

“What’s for supper?” 

You suck on your sticky thumb. There’s a full spread on the dining room table, ready and waiting. “Whatever you want.” 

He licks his lips. 

Supper gets cold. 

.

He brings home a bag of saltwater taffy, all raspberry. 

“Thought of you,” he says when he hands it to you. To your recollection, you have never mentioned taffy or raspberries or anything of the sort. You wonder who he thinks you are, whether he has you confused with someone else. 

You sit on the porch steps and amass a pile of wax paper wrappers beside you. It’s soft and melty, peels out of the wrapper with a sticky crackling sound. It’s salty and sour and tastes like cheap sugar. Like a memory of summer that may be real, or maybe not. Could be yours, or could be someone else’s.

You eat more than you want, until your teeth hurt and you can feel the hot spot on your tongue where a canker sore will form. You rake that spot back and forth across your incisors. You can’t help it. Sometimes it feels like things have to have a hurt to them. 

“You ever been to the fair?” you ask him over your shoulder.

He grunts from the porch swing. “Used to go when Vince ‘n me were little. Took Les a couple times when he was old enough.”

“You ever take a girl?”

“Nah.” His boot thumps on the porch, an offhand punctuation mark. “Couldn’t find one to go with me.”

You doubt that; you’ve seen his yearbook photos. But then again, maybe he was off-putting as a teenager. Spooky. Hadn’t quite learned how to camouflage yet. Came on too strong, wore too much cologne, used too many teeth.

You survey the vast swath of woods that surrounds Ambrose and try to imagine a ferris wheel, red and blue and blinking, rising from the green like the hump of a whale.  “I’d go with you.”

He snorts. “Yeah?”

You look down at the piece of taffy in your fingers. You don’t really want it. You unwrap it anyway. “Yeah.” You gnaw on the candy like a dog savoring a scrap. “Be like a date,” you say thickly.

“What, you wanna skip down the midway holdin’ hands? Makin’ out in the Tunnel of Love?”

You can picture it, sunset and a sundress. He’s laughing. You’re laughing. The crowd is made of wax. “You could win me a stuffed animal.”

He scoffs again, but then he asks you, “What kinda stuffed animal you want?”

You think for a second, unstick the taffy from your molars and push it around your mouth with your tongue. “A Louisiana crocodile.” A souvenir from your time in the South. Maybe it’ll be wearing a little trucker hat and a smile that doesn’t reach its eyes.

“Ain’t got crocodiles here, sugar. ‘S all alligators.”

“Fine, an alligator then.”

You run your hands over your shins, sticky with the humidity. The chains of the porch swing creak rhythmically behind you. The sea of trees is dark and still and endless.

“Fair don’t come ‘round here anymore,” he says finally.

You force the taffy down your throat, swallow hard, and reach for another one.

“Figures.”

.

You’re buzzed and reckless, sucked down a pair of beers too fast just because they were frosty. The shears snick like some needy, nipping thing. You found them upstairs under the bathroom sink once upon a time and you always put them back when you’re done. They’ve been there longer than you’ve been alive. You comb your fingers across his scalp and loose locks drift onto your clean floor. 

“Don’t take it too short,” he admonishes into the mouth of his beer bottle. “You butcher me, I butcher you.” 

You roll your eyes behind his back. “Have I ever?” 

He grunts in acquiescence. That’s as close to a win as you’ll get. 

The windows are open; the thunder presses against the frayed screens. A gigantic moth flings its feathery body repeatedly at the ceiling light. You run your hand through his hair slow just to feel it between your fingers, thick and soft. Your thumb glances off the scar on the left side of his skull and comes back for another pass. 

He jerks his head, puts a stop to that. “You done?” 

“Almost.” 

You’re particularly fond of the curls at the nape of his neck, always save them for last. You coil one around your finger. You want to ask him if you can keep it, but you’re afraid he’ll say no or worse, that he’ll say yes. He’ll ask for something in return. You’ll give it to him, no matter what it is. You give him anything he wants, everything he wants. It’s the least you can do, the most you can do. 

You snip them one by one, bittersweet. 

“Done.” 

He leans over in the chair to examine his reflection in the window. “Good enough.” 

He stands up and drains the dregs of his beer. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in and you bend like a reed, peering up at him, inspecting your work. He smells like sweat and sun. You grip his shirt in your fists and move with him as he sways lazily side-to-side. 

He gives you the gift of a smile, half-cocked and handsome. “You wanna dance, mama?”

Your fingers spider-creep up the shield of his chest and lock behind his neck. His skin is hot and sticky against your wrists, clipped hairs poking and itching. Your hips bump against his like a car on a back road, lost, no cell service. You wish there was music playing. 

He tilts his head towards you and you get caught in the trap of his mouth. The thunder moans. You can feel the sweat beading on your upper lip, in the pit of your elbows. His hands are heavy on your bones. 

His jaw scrapes along your temple like a razor blade and a fever chill rolls over your skin, hot-cold. “G’on upstairs, get those clothes off.” 

Have you always been such a good listener? 

.

He comes home drunk and fucks you on the table, in the midst of supper left cold and waiting for him. You knew he’d be hungry. You are right about some things and wrong about others.

You wince every time a dish topples off the table and shatters on the faded linoleum. He doesn't look at you, not once.

Afterwards, he disappears for a while and leaves you to clean up the kitchen. You are dazed, legs unsteady, leaning on the counter like an old friend. It’s been a bad day. Dinner has soaked through the back of your shirt and so you take it off, hang it over the back of a chair for later, and set to work on the mess.

You cannot puzzle out how he managed to get blood on every dish you are trying to wash until finally you realize it is yours, seeping quietly from a slice on your palm. When he comes up behind you your spine stiffens, arching like a snake making a final stand. He puts his hands on your bare waist and his lips against the back of your head like a sweetheart, like a husband, like a different person.

“Leave it, darlin’. Come sit on the porch with me.”

You bite your lip, lift your palm so he can see it, watch the world blur with saline. “I cut myself,” you say, and only then does the sting set in, so sharp you can feel it in your teeth.

He makes a sympathetic noise and cups your hand in his. “Now why’d y’go and do that?”

You open your mouth to answer but only a moan comes out as he lifts your arm and seals his lips over the cut. He sucks, gently at first and then harder, hard enough you feel the seam of skin separate and your fingers jerk like puppets to the pain. He lets you go and you cradle your hand to your chest as he laps your blood off his lip.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, takes your arm, tugs you from the sink. “C’mon. I need a smoke.”

You follow him onto the porch, curl up in his lap with a dishrag pressed to your palm and watch smoke and moths float around the light.

Your blood dries on the dishes with the gravy.

.

The clouds boom a reminder that they are still hanging above the house, but you are already awake in the split second beforehand. You are cocooned in the sheets and panic for a moment, arms pinned to your chest, bedroom black as a coffin. When you claw free, gasping, the air is like moss draped spongey and damp across your face. 

You worm out of the bed, out of the room, stagger into the hallway and down the stairs in the dark. You are mere steps ahead of some emaciated beast, its breath muggy on your cheeks and the back of your neck. You twist your shirt off and throw it on the floor of the den before it can strangle you, wrench the front door open and slam through the screen with both hands. 

The night is wet in your nose. One hundred million insects scream to God. In the back of your mind you think about joining them. Your toes scuff to a stop on the precipice of the porch and you peer into the darkness with round eyes, bare chest heaving for more air than you can hold. You are drowning here, surrounded by trees, surrounded by more green than you ever knew existed in the world. 

Somewhere out there, someone is mourning you. You can feel it tonight, crackling in the ozone like the storm that won’t break. 

You wrap your arms around yourself and sink to the ground, sit perched on the top stair in your panties and sweat-drenched skin. The nail of your index finger rips apart the cuticle of your thumb. Mosquitos float open-armed to your legs like swamp angels. It’s too hot to cry. 

The yellow porchlight struggles to life. The screen door bangs flatly behind you. He can’t ever pick up his feet, scuffing through the dust you haven’t swept. 

His fingers brush the bone of your shoulder. You don’t flinch nowadays, usually. “Y’alright?”

You don’t have to answer that. Let him wrap his hand around your throat and fishhook his fingers into your mouth to pull your jaw open, you don’t have to answer that. You grit your teeth and dig crescent moons into your thighs with all ten fingernails.

Your silence doesn’t bother him. He leans on the railing to your left, curling his toes on the concrete, looking out into the night. Sleep has mussed his hair to one side and left imprints of the sheet fanning across his chest. There’s a hickey in the shape of your mouth in the curve of his neck. Lightning flutters shy among the clouds and the thunder reprimands it. There’s something stuck in your throat, something you can’t swallow down no matter how hard you try. Moths flock to the porchlight. If anyone was alive in the town to look up the hill, they’d see you haloed, and him too. 

“‘S late. Come back to bed.”

You can’t remember your home address. You can picture the house, the sidewalk in front of it, cracks in the driveway. The rest is like a dream. The house behind you doesn’t have an address. No number, no mailbox. You can feel it sucking at the base of your spine like a leech, coaxing you in, tipping you backwards all wrong like a gravity hill. You feel eyes on you, all the time, no matter what room you’re in. 

“You listenin’ to me? Let’s go.”

You can’t go back inside. You can’t go back inside. Something in you doesn’t line up right. Someone is holding a pillow over your face.

“No,” you think you say out loud. The word flutters off into the night. You watch a mosquito drift beyond the reach of the porchlight and disappear. The stars bow gracefully into the arms of the clouds. 

After a beat, he shuffles out of your periphery. The screen door slams. Maybe this time. When you least expect it. Maybe he's sick of you at last. You pick at a scab on your knee until it comes loose and flakes off, and then you pinch the skin around the wound and squeeze until a bead of blood, scarlet-black, mounds and breaks and gets all over your fingers. You raise them to your mouth and suck them clean and it tastes familiar. Safe. 

He doesn’t come back with a knife, or a gun. He comes back with the quilt and sheet from the bed, a pillow stuffed under his arm. He unfurls the quilt on the porch. The pillow flops to the ground like something hunted to extinction. He follows suit. 

“C’mere.” He wrestles with the sheet, props himself up on an elbow and punches the pillow into place. “C’mon.” 

You breathe, just for a minute, watching him. You want to hate him so bad it hurts. You want him to hit you so you’d have a reason to hit back. You want to fight for your life because you can feel it slipping away, waning, evaporating in the heat. Already you’ve found shreds of yourself under the couch, covered in dust. You are drowning. You are thirsty. He is water, cold and brackish. 

You rise from the stairs and come to him because you need him, because he is all you have. 

“Get the light,” he says. 

You go and come back and his hand finds your calf in the dark, slides up the back of your knee, guides you to the ground. The quilt is a mockery of softness, the porch unyielding beneath. You curl up with him at your back and he folds his arm around you, thumb worrying aimlessly at your nipple. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck. 

The air roils in your lungs. The night surges in. You are alone, so alone, aching with loneliness, now and always. You close your fingers around his wrist and guide his hand between your legs. He rubs the cotton of your panties with something like pity and you let a moan seep from your throat. 

Your face lolls into the pillow and it smells like fever dreams and cold-sweat nightmares. The fabric of your underwear catches on your clit and you gasp, arching against his chest.

“Easy,” he murmurs as his fingers drag back and forth. He hooks his foot around your ankle, forces your legs open. You asked for this. You’ll take it and thank him. 

Lightning silhouettes the world beyond the porch in black and purple. When you close your eyes, you see the rooftops of the town in the colors of heaven. You rock against his hand and pretend you’re someone else somewhere else. You feel the thunder in your teeth and wish with all your heart the rain would fall. 

He puts an abrupt end to the friction and cups you in his palm, wide and warm. You make a plaintive sound and wiggle your hips, push your ass against him. You need to feel something. You need him to help you. Otherwise, you might disappear beneath the horrible blanket of the night. 

“Please,” you moan. 

He presses his lips to the back of your neck, whispers into the shell of your ear like a lover. “You love me?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes.” 

His teeth graze your skin as he slips his fingers past the waistband of your panties. 

“Good.” 

You wonder if he knows he keeps saving your life. 

.

The house is a midden of family misery. There’s barely space for you between heaps of clothing and glassware and mass market paperbacks. You live sideways amid the boxes and bottles and beer cans. He refuses to let you throw anything away. No matter how much you sweep and dust and tidy, the clutter seems to crawl right back across the carpet like morning glory. 

Late morning finds you in the master bedroom. It’s sweltering up here. The air sticks to your face like tattered gauze. The junk in here is of a particular breed, more meaningful—photo albums, baby clothes. Much of it has been stacked high just inside the door like a battlement. A fortification between this room and the rest of the house. You’re not allowed in here. 

Neither is he. 

Beyond the wall, everything sits untouched. A layer of dust rests primly on the bedside tables, the vanity, the yellow quilt still neatly made up on the bed. The art on the wall is sun-bleached in evenly spaced lines from the half-open blinds. The silence crowds your ears. It feels like standing in a tomb, the family crypt. 

With courage paper-thin, you've decided you'd like to confront the heart of the horror. Like shoving your fingers down the throat of the beast trying to bite you. Like making a home in its mouth, a bed in its bed. You want to eat me so bad, you’ll have to savor every scrap. 

It’s eerie in here. This room is brighter than the rest of the house by far. You can feel that parasitic presence all around you, cajoling you with hands that are soft and dry. There is a faint, floating smell of faded flowers. You breathe slowly to keep yourself from sprinting back downstairs.

You gaze at yourself in the vanity mirror. The dust almost erases you from sight, almost. You reach a finger out and draw a single streak across the silvery surface. You’re in there, somewhere. Sometimes you forget. 

The front of the vanity holds a trio of slim drawers with tiny gold handles. You catch one with the tips of your fingers and tug, just slightly. It creeps open without resistance. The inside is lined with green velvet. You pull it open all the way and search through the contents with your eyes. Blush, lipstick. Eyeshadow in seven shades of blue. You slide the drawer closed and move on to the next one, the widest one in the middle. 

This one holds a treasure trove of golden baubles:  a jumble of earrings, half a dozen hairpins, a long, thin cigarette holder. A string of pearls that look too chipped and dull to be real. And a locket, oval-shaped and decorated with a halo of tiny vines. You pick it up and the chain slips over your fingers like a thin, shining snake. 

You dig your nail into the seam and pop it open. To your muted disappointment, it is empty. No husband. No children. 

It’s yours, you decide suddenly. You want it. You've earned it. A prize, a consolation for the hell you’ve been through. For the fact that you have survived him, and she has not. You wonder if he’ll recognize it. Part of you hopes that he does. You imagine the look on his face and his hands on you afterwards. Your mouth is wet. 

This might be her house, will always be her house. But you do not belong to her. You have been spoken for again and again, and perhaps you should thank him for that. 

In the daylight you remember that you aren’t scared of ghosts, and that you have nothing left to give. Plenty of dead women have laid claim to you already. This one cannot have you, and for that matter, she can’t have him either. 

You hear the rumble of his truck out front and the thrill of fear that shoots down your spine is so cold it’s almost welcome in the stuffy room. You shove the locket into the pocket of your shorts and fling the drawer shut. It closes with a soft, complicit thunk. 

You pick your way back through the boxes and slip through the door like a reptile into water; smooth, silent. You make sure it latches behind you before you hurry to the top of the stairs. 

Out of the corner of your eye, just before you dip out of sight below the banister, you see something bend the light that reaches through the crack beneath the door. You freeze, turn your head only slightly. You see nothing. Only sunlight. Certainly no feet, dainty and bare, padding across the carpet with red-lacquered toenails. 

Panic, delayed, breaks loose. You gallop down the stairs so quickly you forget to skip the ones that creak. 

By the time he comes inside, slamming the door fit to shake the frame of the house, you are hunched over the dishes in the sink like you’ve been there all morning. If you are unduly quiet, he doesn’t seem to notice, and if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. 

.

“I think I love you.”

You say it half-casual, half-pronouncement, the way you might tell your mom you’re dropping out of college. Tell your boyfriend you’re over him. Tell your boss you’re moving to Louisiana. “I mean it this time.”

Bo snorts, lifts his beer to his lips. “That so?”

You shoo a bee from the rim of your glass and suck down the last of your drink. You just might be drunk. “Yup.”

“Think that’s the bourbon talkin’.”

You roll your eyes, shimmy a little in an effort to make the busted lawn chair more comfortable. You thought he’d be more excited. “Why don’t you ever believe me?”

He smacks his lips like he’s considering his answer. The sunlight shifts through the trees and you close your eyes, blissful. “Lemme ask you this. You ever set a snare, baby?”

You can feel it in your blood:  the sun, the breeze, the brook bubbling over your toes. It’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.

“Hey.” He leans over in his chair and snaps his fingers, splintering your peace. “I asked you a question.”

“Nah. Never set a snare. Some of us were normal kids.”

He ignores this and you feel like you’ve gotten away with something. “Well, sometimes you catch a critter, but it don’t strangle to death like it’s s’posed to.” 

You frown. 

“So you gotta do somethin’ about it, right? But you gotta be real careful. Can’t get caught up by the sufferin’. Gotta keep your head about you, y’know?” He’s not looking at you, but you can picture his lips, twisted in something like a smile. “‘Cause it don’t matter what it is…raccoon, possum, bunny rabbit…that sucker’ll take your hand off if y’let it.”

Your throat is sensitive all of the sudden, feels closed off. Maybe you swallowed a bee. “What are you even talking about?”

His head lolls lazy to the left and he stares at you for a second in a way that makes your hair stand on end. Then he chuckles, winks at you, turns away and leans back in his chair. 

“Nothin’, sugar. You’re awful cute.”

.

The heat wreaks havoc on the lifeless inhabitants of the town. You trail behind him like a listless kite as he makes the rounds, checking for damage, hauling the worst afflicted home to Vincent. It baffles you how much he seems to care about them. How much investment he has in keeping the rot contained beneath a pristine cosmetic veneer. For what? For who?

You don’t tell him it’s all rot, all of it, the people, the buildings. The trees. The air. Him. You. 

Some days, most days, you can’t quite look them in their faces. It’s guilt, you suppose. Guilt and acknowledgement of a fear so pervasive you no longer notice the way it clings like a second skin. You’ve convinced yourself if you meet their eyes you’ll find them glaring at you, envious and accusatory. Or worse–you’ll see the future, suspended in the flat, glass pupils of a dead game animal.

Occasionally you punish yourself by looking too closely. You note the receding hairlines, where the skin beneath the wax has dried and pulled taut and shifted the scalp along with it. You observe the way the light shines through plump round fingertips that are only hollow shells of wax, all that soft flesh desiccated and shriveled to a skeletal wedge underneath. You wonder, sometimes, whether Vincent smoothed over any flaws–scars, moles, asymmetrical lips. You touch your face subconsciously and think about the things he might fix for you.

It makes you feel like you are tiptoeing on the precipice of sanity, arms wide, just waiting to topple.

You take a particular interest in their clothing, wonder whether it belonged to them or to someone from the town. You never ask Bo, although you know he could tell you. You ignore the obvious parallels like a badly stitched seam. None of the clothes you wear belong to you either.

There are more residents than you ever imagined, half the houses not as empty as you assumed. Ten years, three brothers, three hundred and forty-nine holes to fill. You were decent at math in a past life, but nowadays, you try your hardest not to solve problems, no matter how they howl and scratch at the door. You’ve become adept at avoidance of the obvious in favor of learning how to assimilate into the cobwebs and shadows. No one can kill you if you’re already dead. You believe that so hard sometimes you can’t see your own reflection.

You believe it so hard that when you find it, on a girl in a house on a street you’ve only been down once or twice, you can’t make sense of it for several long seconds, staring dumbstruck and stupid while the static subsumes your brain.

“Let’s go,” he barks from the sitting room. The couches are pink and floral and faded.

You cannot move. You are made of wax.

“You deaf? Come on.”

She’s wearing cutoff jeans and the t-shirt you bought on a trip two years ago, or maybe three. There’s blood, brown and faded from half-hearted washing, streaking the collar and left sleeve.

Her hair is lighter than yours, and shorter. Her feet are smaller. Her nose is bigger. But the shirt is yours, and so is the blood, and for a second, you know you are a ghost.

“Hey.” He grabs your arm and turns you around. You think maybe she’ll move, now that you’re not looking. “You got a problem?”

You cannot answer him, because you do not have a voice. Because your lips have been glued together and painted the perfect pink. His gaze flicks from you to the girl and back and you wonder if he kissed her the way he kisses you. You hope he can see it, the way you are withering under the wax. You hope he will pick you up, cradle you in his arms, take you home and take care of you, make you whole, make you human.

Isn’t that all you’ve ever asked for?

He snaps his fingers in front of your face and you flinch, because you are real after all.

“Let’s go.”

You let him push you towards the door, hear him close it behind you, feel the floorboards shiver as he follows you down the hall. He puts his hand on the small of your back and ushers you out of the house, down the sidewalk cracked and stuffed with weeds keeling over in the heat. You can feel your feet melting to the concrete, skin crawling, sagging. You try not to stumble. You don’t want him to leave you behind.

“She ain’t you,” he mutters at the end of the street, so low you barely hear him over the buzz of the cicadas.

You aren’t sure if he’s lying, now or ever. You don’t ask him where her clothes are and he doesn’t offer. She might not be you, but you might be her. And you both might be someone else.

Either way, the shape of her is burned into your vision in blue and green, and she shakes her head at you when you close your eyes.

.

You wake to the sound of rain on the roof and it pulls you immediately from bed, stumbling sightless over your feet to get to the window. You yank on the mangled cord to raise the blinds and sure enough, the dust of summer is melting down the window in waves.

“Bo,” you say hoarsely. “Bo, look.”

It is then that the silence of the room seeps into your brain, the conspicuous lack of snoring. Your heart sinks into your wringing stomach. 

In a perfect world, he’d be taking a leak. He’d stumble back to bed and wrap you in his arms, press a kiss to your temple, and you’d drift back to sleep in the bliss of air conditioning. 

Your world is a few dirt road miles south of perfect.

You have to go find him. Find him and haul him out of whatever dark place he’s waded into, before he comes back worse than he went in.

The hall is a throat you have to fight against to get to the stairs, black and humid with walls that breathe. You feel cobwebs on your face and slap them away only to realize it’s your own hair caught on your lashes. The glow of the TV laps at the bottom step like floodwater, makes the carpet undulate like something just sank below the surface. You hesitate, for just a second, before you step down and feel solid ground beneath your feet.

He sits slouched on the couch in front of a screen full of static, deadeyed, jaw clenched. He doesn’t seem to notice you, quiet, creeping thing that you are. The static sounds like rushing water. Mangroves rise from the shadows in the corner of your eye. Lilypads part around your feet. If you turn your head just right, his eyes flash red in the light.

You stop halfway between the stairs and the couch, unsure what kind of animal you’re approaching. Your hands float up like a shield, like a bridge. “Bo,” you say softly, and it echoes in the night. “Are you okay?” 

He blinks, like a person. You notice a bite mark, a purple half moon in the meat of his forearm. Your skin is well acquainted with the shape of his teeth. 

“Bo,” you whisper. You don’t want to get closer. “Come back to bed.”

You hear a splash in the kitchen. The carpet squishes between your toes. Something brushes your ankle and wriggles away. You need to get out of here. You can’t leave without him. 

“Baby…please.” You step towards him and freeze as he lurches forward, sits up straight. His hands dangle between his knees, his gaze still locked on the fuzz of the television. 

“I killed my mama, y’know.” 

His voice is pitched, low and dull. A sheen of sweat glistens on his upper lip and cheekbones. The color is gone from his face and here, in this place, he looks almost green.

You fight to form breath into words. “I…I know.”

He’s speaking again as though he didn’t hear you. You can see in his eyes he is far, far away. “I watched her die. Took a real long time. But I stayed…waited. Had to make sure.”

The water is rising, cold and slick, over your ankles and up your calves. Panic rises with it, packs into your throat like silt. “You were real brave, baby. You did it. You made sure.” Your voice is thin as a reed. 

A terrible, empty grin cracks his face and then vanishes without a ripple, and now he looks at you for the first time and his eyes are hollow and blue as marbles and he whispers, “Then why ain’t she dead?”

The water surges to your knees like it’s been displaced by something large, something prowling. You teeter forward, heart hammering, splashing as you regain your balance. Too loud, too loud. Do alligators eat each other?

“She’s dead, Bo. She is.”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch!” He rises to his feet so fast you lose your balance again, flinching back from him. “She ain’t and you know it. You’ve seen her, she’s here! In this fuckin’ house!”

You shake your head quickly and in your periphery something ducks beneath the surface of the water. “No. She’s not.” Convince him, convince yourself, make it true.

His chest is heaving, his gaze darting around the room, searching. You can picture a shadow in shadow, curled up and waiting in the corner of the ceiling like a fat black spider, fingers splayed wide and tipped sharp and red. 

Bo grips the back of his head and moans and it echoes off the trees, too loud, too loud. “Fuckin’...everywhere.”

Faded flowers. Blush, lipstick. A trick of the light. A locket wrapped in vines. Something hunting, just below the surface. If you let it rip him apart, would it come for you next?

“She’s everywhere…in my goddamn head….” He sways on his feet like he might fall and if he does, if the swamp swallows him, you’ll die here in this place.

“Hey.” You close the distance, push through the muck, brush his elbow. “Hey!”

He smacks you away, snaps his jaws closed. “Don’t touch me!”

You cringe and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Something groans in the dark. Something moves near the ceiling. 

His eyes on you are predatory, cold and empty, and his brow furrows. “Who are you?” he demands.

Wide-eyed, you open your mouth to answer him, but there is nothing on your tongue but moss. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

He leans toward you. “Who the fuck are you?”

You hold your hands up in front of you, backing away, mud between your toes. Your fingers are skeletal. Your nails are painted red. “I don’t know!”

A terribly low, vibrating sound is rising from the water, sending ripples in all directions, freezing your heart in your chest. He moves towards you and the swamp parts around him, allows him to pass like he is a part of it.

“You ain’t leavin’, baby.”

His teeth are sharp.

He lunges.

You scream.

The sound gets caught in your throat like a wad of feathers and bones and you choke, twisting, coming to in your bed. In his bed. Disoriented, you gasp for breath and release the death grip you have on the sheet. Your brow is so sweat-soaked your eyes are beginning to sting. The air is dry on your skin; the blanket is gone. The lower half of your body is tingling.

His head lifts from between your thighs and he looks at you with eyebrows raised. “Easy, sugar. Ain’t done with you yet.”

“Wh…what?” You rub at your eyes, trying to shake the sensation of water closing over your face. Somewhere, some version of you is bleeding in the silt.

His tongue makes another pass and you whimper, arms shaking with the effort of holding yourself up, of treading water, of fighting the maw of a monster. “Relax, baby. Go back to sleep.”

It’s all so insurmountable, the weight of it on your chest, and you sink back into the mattress without a ripple. His mouth is wet and warm. His dark hair is disheveled and you wonder absently if he misses it, that lock you stole. The room is silent save for the sound of your drowning.

“Is it raining?” you whisper, and hate yourself for the hope behind it.

He pauses, meets your gaze over the watery surface of your body. All you can see are his eyes and you could swear, for a second, they reflect neon red. “No.”

You let your head drop back onto the pillow, let him devour you, feel a tear slip over the brim of your lashes and disappear into your hair.

.

The storm breaks on a Wednesday. 

At first, you don’t register the rain on the roof. You don’t even take note of the thunder anymore, after weeks of torment. It’s become a fixture like the dust, like the pervasive smell of decay.

It starts slow, cautious, rolling into town like a tourist with a busted GPS. You mistake the patter for the familiar buzz of TV static even though that makes no sense, even though you’re the only one in the house, even though the TV is off in the next room. All you can hear is the rough swish of the scrub brush on the hardwood floor, coaxing flecks of blood from the gaps between the boards. It’s already beginning to reek in the heat.

You wanted to clean it up last night when it was fresh but he wouldn’t let you, strongarmed you up the stairs and pinned you to the mattress. You’d never admit it to him, to God, or to yourself—and really, is there a difference in Ambrose—but he fucks so good when he’s riled up like that, when it feels like he can’t get enough of the killing so he’s going to take it out on you, take everything you have to offer him plus a little bit more.

The cut on your palm is half-healed and hurts when you put your weight on it. There’s something about that—familiar, comfortable, not grounding, not really, but like static. Stable. Buoyant. Like the bruises on your knees. A constant that cradles you and takes you up and out of here, not too high, just above the trees.

A stair creaks behind you and you freeze like a hare in the shadow of a hawk. It could be Vincent, but he’s busy with last night’s batch. It’s not Bo.

You ease yourself up onto your knees, rock back, stand up, and creep to the foot of the stairs. They are empty. You are alone with the sense that someone has just disappeared out of sight, retreating up into the aching cranium of the house, skirt swishing.

You are never alone, not really.

It’s only then that the sound of the rain seeps into your brain, soothes the hair standing up on the back of your neck. A weight you have been holding on your shoulders since the end of July dissolves like sugar and your spine lengthens by inches. You drop the brush, forget the ghost, walk barefoot through the bloodstain on your way to fling open the front door.

It rains.

It rains even though the clouds are thin, the sun forcing its way through in places like it just can’t bear to admit defeat. It rains and pools in the potholes of the driveway that have been waiting open-mouthed to be filled. It rains and the grass and weeds release a sigh of bliss, stop begging for mercy.

You step down from the porch in a trance, palms up and open, trailing pink-tinged footprints that melt across the concrete like raspberry taffy. You walk across the lawn, scuff your feet in the grass, wonder if maybe you’re dreaming and decide you don’t care.

You sink to the ground, sprawl on your back, feel the damp soak into your clothes and your skin and it makes you whole, makes you new, makes its apologies for taking so long. You are floating, only eyes above the water, surrounded by salvinia and duckweed.

You hear his footsteps just before he calls to you. “The fuck you doin’, girl?” he shouts, but when you open your eyes, he’s losing a fight with a grin, picking his way up the slippery hill.

You sit up halfway. “It’s raining.”

“Y’don’t say.” He drops to his knees beside you, slumped with relief.

His wifebeater is splattered with blood and water but you grab it with both fists and pull him to you, catch his mouth and coax him to the ground.

“Crazy bitch,” he mutters, but he guides your hands to his belt and grips your ass with both hands as you fuss with the buckle, even rolls onto his back to ease your way and lifts his hips so you can tug down his jeans. “Right here, huh?”

“Yes.”

“In the front goddamn yard.”

“Yes!”

“It’s fuckin’ rainin’!”

“I know!”

He laughs and the heavens giftwrap it with a roll of thunder. You're giddy, beaming at him, and he traces your smile with the pad of his finger and something akin to admiration.

You're brand-new, him too, and both of you together. Like it's the first time, a better first, another universe. His hands are on your thighs and his shirt rides up above his stomach. Water drips off your nose and onto his lips and he licks it off like it might save him and maybe it just might. Maybe it’ll save you both.

Exhausted, exalted, you wash the sweat and grime off each other with filthy hands and thirsty mouths. You wrap your fingers around his bare shoulders and ride him with your eyes open and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever breaking, the panting, the shaking.

The locket taps against your chest, the lock of his hair tucked inside it. He cups your face, slips his thumb in your mouth, and there’s blood beneath his fingernail. You suck it clean with greed and obedience, savor it, turn your face to the sky and let the crocodile tears run down your cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, and you bask in the rare and wondrous glow of his approval.

You come apart in splashes like raindrops, small, staccato swells in your core while he kisses the rain off your skin. His hands find the bruises they’ve left on your hips and squeeze and it’s all you could ever ask for, to be held. To be hurt. To be his.

Maybe it’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.

“Y'know, girl, maybe you're right,” he says. "Just this once."

You’re confused until you realize you’ve spoken out loud. You look down at him, cold skin, wet curls, a smudge on his jaw that could be mud or blood, his or yours or someone else’s. He looks back like he sees you.

“You love me?” you ask him before you can think better of it. Before the rain stops.

The corner of his mouth twitches. His gaze slides past you, goes somewhere else, above the sea of trees. The sky is in his eyes. “Sometimes.”

You don’t smile, don’t sigh, just push the hair off his brow and sink slow and gentle beneath the surface and into the green, not a ripple made in your wake.

“Good.”

#this really truly took it out of me #vignette-style writing like this is SO HARD for me idk why #but i wanted so many moments of normal life in hell and i wanted them all #he's probably so ooc god but it's fine it's fine #we're so back #bo sinclair #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #house of wax fanfiction

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life. 

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are. 

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage. 

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you. 

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him. 

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be. 

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important. 

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was. 

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this. 

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice. 

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey. 

You almost wished it had torn you apart then. 

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion. 

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in. 

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close. 

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight. 

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it. 

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth. 

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought. 

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck. 

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?” 

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name. 

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty. 

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too. 

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened. 

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes. 

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone. 

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out. 

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words. 

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark. 

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred. 

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame. 

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.” 

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips. 

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched. 

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death. 

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features. 

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered. 

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body. 

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside. 

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.” 

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately. 

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again. 

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.”  Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this. 

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself. 

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand. 

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours. 

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something. 

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like. 

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you. 

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified. 

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it. 

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it. 

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it. 

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs. 

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you. 

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret. 

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again. 

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair. 

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. 

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing. 

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans. 

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat. 

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own. 

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring. 

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it. 

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles. 

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit. 

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

 “You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him. 

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke. 

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer. 

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now. 

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck. 

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body. 

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. 

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction. 

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist. 

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand. 

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny. 

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin. 

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back. 

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry. 

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier. 

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

[bucks-babe]

More Virgin Bucky

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky 

Summary: Bucky jerks off to the memory of your movie night

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: male masturbation, mention of past blowjob, Bucky is a horny boy, reader is not in this one but he thinks about them

A/N: The part two that a lot of yall wanted. Am I a tease? Yes. Bucky does not lose his v-card in this one. BUT I will write a part three I promise. I want to corrupt this man so bad. Also, I wrote this in like an hour sooo. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series but can be read alone

One week. Actually eight days and five hours, but Bucky is the only one counting. That’s how long it's been since you sucked the sense out of your boyfriend. It has taken every ounce of control Bucky has to not ask you to do it again. It’s all he thinks about ever since that night.

He would be embarrassed if you knew, but in all fairness, you did this to him. You effectively made him malfunction. Bucky has been fucking his fist practally every night, replaying the best moment of his life. How your mouth wrapped around him perfectly, the slight gagging sounds, and don’t even get him started on how you looked up at him. 

And when you told him to cum in your mouth? Fuck! His cock pulses at the memory. Bucky is a greedy man - he wants more. He wants you to suck his cock again, maybe you’ll suck on his ball this time, get them all wet and slobbery, make him cum without even touching his cock. 

For the past few days of his incessant horniness, he’s been thinking about something else, too. It always starts out with you, his throbbing cock in your mouth, but there is a shift, you on the bed with his head between your legs. He never gets very far into this fantasy before he cums all over his hand and chest. Something about eating you out has him cumming in seconds.

But Bucky can’t bring himself to ask for what he wants. He’s too embarrassed; no one in the 40’s ever talked about eating their girl’s pussy. He wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that women’s pleasure wasn’t important to men back then, but Bucky didn’t know if what he wanted was normal, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

As he lies in bed, once again Bucky feels his cock harden in his pants. Luckily for his pride, he’s alone in bed, and nothing is stopping his flesh hand from inching toward his crotch. His balls are so heavy and full even though he jerked himself off twice the night before, cumming so much he had to change the sheets. 

Grabbing his erection, Bucky hissed in pleasure. No matter how many times he’s touched himself this past week, he is still a sensitive baby when it comes to his cock. “Fuck, doll, touch my cock, just like that.” Bucky lets his mind wander to his go to fantasy. He imagines you between his legs, that the hand rubbing his dick is your soft palms and not his callused one.

His hips jerk off the bed, chasing friction of his hand through his boxers. “Go ahead, doll, take it out.” When you aren’t there, Bucky is in charge, making himself feel good, directing you in his fantasy. But can’t help himself but let you take charge when he’s with you. He just gets so nervous, not wanting to let you down and never experiencing pleasure so intense. 

He’s trying to take this slow, drawing his pleasure out, but, hell, you make him so damn horny that he just can’t help but push his boxers down to his thighs, past his heavy balls, and ignores the wet spot on his underwear from his weeping head.

Using his precum, Bucky wraps his hand around his head and slowly pulls his hand down to his base. “Oh, God! Just like that!” He has to squeeze his base to stop himself from cumming at the first stroke of this hand.

Scrambling, he pushes his boxers down to his ankles and spreads his legs, “doll, touch my balls, get them nice and wet.” His metal hand cups his ever growing sack, “shit, yeah that feels fucking great! You feel how heavy they are? All that cum is going down your throat tonight. You hear me, doll?” 

With his metal hand still on his balls, he uses his flesh hand on his cock, imagining your lips instead, you slobbering over his cock, not his precum lubing it. “So good with your mouth, you know that? You’re such a fucking slut.” His thumb traces over the thick vein right under the head of this cock and has Bucky calling you a slut, something he didn’t even know he’d be into, but once that image was in his head he had to take his hand off his cock; he didn’t want to cum just yet. Not when he just started.

Taking deep breaths, Bucky tries to calm himself down, but imaginary you climbs up his body and Bucky knows this is the end. “Sit on my face, doll, and let me eat your pussy.” He closes his eyes for this part, because Bucky has never seen your pussy before, he wonders if you are sporting a bush like the women in his old porn mags did, or if you shave, or wax, Bucky doesn’t give a shit. 

He’s never tasted a cunt before, and has nothing to base it on, but the thought of your entire weight on his face, smothering him with your pussy, makes the most pornographic moan leave his mouth and cum shoots out of his tip without him touching it.

He cums for what feels like minutes before he finally stops and he lays back against his pillow, not having the energy to clean himself off before he falls asleep. He needs to taste your pussy and soon. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan x reader

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong pt 1

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 8392

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n is the adopted daughter of Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. However, when science enables her mother's to have twin boys who are biogloically both of their's, her relationship slowly changes. At 17 she's ready to move out and move on, is it too late for her moms to fix things?

Y/n's POV:

When I was 6, my life was saved by none other than the Black Widow. She came in like the hero she is and saved me from the hell that was Hydra. Whilst helping me to acclimatise to normal life, we grew close, and she was a mother figure I never had. I was so shocked when she told me that she wanted to adopt me.

It was everything that I could ever ask for. She was an amazing mom. Caring, loving and always there for me. She had this soft side that not many people got to see. To the world, and a lot of the team, she had this tough, steely exterior. But I never saw that. Not from the moment she found me. I always felt safe and loved around her.

A couple of years later, Wanda joined the team and soon enough, Mama fell in love. I never saw mama so happy. They had the perfect relationship and Wanda took me on without a second thought. When I was 9, she adopted me, and I had two loving parents.

We had quite a domestic life. Tony built us a separate suite at the compound so we could still be close by for when they were needed for missions. I loved having parents that were heroes. I was so proud of them. I ended up spending quite a bit of time with Pepper when they were on missions together, but when they came home, they always had a couple of days off to spend time with me to make up for being away. It was great.

Watching them make a difference in the world, was the reason I joined the SHIELD Young Initiative Programme. I wanted to be just like my moms. Steve became a huge support to me, and alongside him and mama, I was acing all my practicals and exams.

But before that, when I was 11, our family grew. With the help of Bruce and Tony, Mom got pregnant with twins, both biologically hers and mamas. Billy and Tommy made our family complete.

As soon as Mom got pregnant, Mama told Fury that she wouldn't be going on missions once mom got into her third trimester and that after the birth they both would be taking maternity leave. She also told him that they would only ever be sent on a mission together if it was to save the world. Otherwise, under no circumstances were they to go together. They wanted to be around for the twins as much as possible and didn't want them left on their own if they had to go on missions together.

For the first couple of years, everything was perfect. But when they became toddlers, they were a bit of a handful. It meant that mom's focus went to them and slowly I became less of a priority for them.

I found it hard as I was coming into my teenage years, and I felt like I needed my moms more than ever. But I understood at the start. I was old enough that I could look after myself and the twins needed more. But it got harder when every time I tried to talk to one of them, I was brushed off, or told to speak to them later. But later never came.

Once I hit 13, I was their personal babysitter whenever they needed it. Mama told me how they were trying to make sure that her and mom still had quality time together, so had a date night or day each week. Seems they forgot about quality time with their daughter. It got to the point I was expected to drop everything to be there for my brothers. Picking them up at school, taking them to soccer. It didn't matter what I had planned, I was expected to do my job for the family. I did it without complaining, because I thought if I could prove that I was a good sister, maybe they would start to acknowledge me more.

To try and prove myself worthy, I worked even harder for SHIELD. However, now I lost mama as my training partner. She was too busy with work or the twins to help me train. It hurt when she told me that but, thankfully, Steve stepped up more than he had. He became like a father to me. I could confide in him when my moms didn't have time. Though there were still things that I couldn't talk to him about.

Now I'm 17, working towards graduating the youth programme and into SHEILD as an official agent. We have our final exams coming up and I'm doing everything I can to be ready for them. The top two initiates will get fast tracked through the system and be able to go on missions sooner.

I want nothing more than getting that chance. I need to start making a name for myself and to stop being under my mothers' shadow. Once I wanted to be just like them, to make them proud. But now I know that's not possible. They have their perfect biological family. I was just the stray they took pity on.

"You know, you could take it easy today. You're more than capable of passing these exams even on a bad day. You'll be finishing top of the class and joining us for missions in no time." Steve tells me as he holds the punch bag for me. "I just want to be on top of my game." I tell him, hitting the bag as precisely as I could.

"Have you told your moms about the date for your final practical. I'm sure they'll want to be around when you get home." He asks, making me falter with my hits. "I did, but I don't think they were listening. Although they seemed to acknowledge it, Billy was showing them his Lego at the time." I share with him.

Steve knows what's been happening with my moms and the only reason he hasn't done anything is because I made him promise not to. All I need to do is graduate and then I can get moved into the SHIELD facility and start a new life without being a burden on my family.

"You know, you should talk to them. I know you've tried, but really sit them down and tell them how you're feeling." He tries once again. "It's been years now. If they really cared for me, they would notice that they barely see me anymore. I don't even remember the last time they said I love you." I respond, my hits getting harder.

"Ok, I'm calling this. You'll hurt yourself and then you won't even be able to complete your exams." Steve tells me, stepping between me and the bag. I sigh but know he's right. "Just try for me ok. Maybe after your exams. They'll be so proud of you." He pleads. "Ok, fine." I agree. "Now go shower kiddo. You stink!" He teases me before dodging a punch I try to land on his arm.

I smile as I head up to my room. As I walk into our apartment, I see the happy family sat together watching TV. "Hi moms." I call out when I enter. They don't even turn around, so I call out again, only to get the same response. I decide to go and join them but as soon as I sit down, I'm scolded by mom. "Y/n do you have to come in here like that. Go and shower will you." She tells me off. I look to mama who doesn't even glance in my direction. "Sorry, I was training for my final exam." I explain but once again, nothing. I let out a small humourless chuckle to myself as I leave the living room. Every day, I feel more and more like I don't belong here anymore.

__________

I did it! I actually passed! Not only did I pass, I topped the class. I think I even saw Fury smile. I'm so happy, nothing can burst my bubble right now. As a class, we all decide that we're going to celebrate tonight. We've been a tight group and it'll be nice to actually spend time together without having to study or practice.

I practically run back to the compound, smiling ear to ear. "Someone's happy." Steve calls out to me as I rush through the kitchen. "Someone might be your partner one day!" I call out as I keep on towards my destination of finding my parents. "Can't wait kiddo. Well done! Knew you could do it!" Steve shouts after me.

"Y/n, don't run!" Mama scolds me as I find them in the living room. "Sorry, but I have to tell you something that I know you'll want to hear." I apologise with a smile on my face. "Not now Y/n. We're about to head out. The boys just need dinner and don't let them stay up late." She tells me. That's when I notice that she's dressed up in her best jacket.

"I can't look after the twins tonight. Our class are going to celebrate." I explain, hoping she might ask why we're celebrating. But that would be wishful thinking. "Time with your friends can wait Y/n." She tells me without even looking up at me, too focused on her phone. "Can't one of the others watch them. Just for tonight. I've never asked before. But just this once. Please." I practically beg, but to no use. "Stop being selfish and just watch the boys." She snaps, making a lump form in my throat.

"Fine." I mumble, leaving the room and head out of our apartment. "Where are you going?" She calls after me. "To see Steve. Don't worry, I'll be back to watch your precious boys." I talk back whilst leaving, hearing her call after me.

I make my way to find Steve. I know he'll be excited with my results. I wipe at my eyes for the few traitorous tears that fell. "So, I hear someone will be an Avenger in no time." Tony says as I walk into the kitchen. "I think I'll stick with SHIELD." I respond. I have no desire to be a full time Avenger. I'll be around to see my moms live their perfect life without me.

"I'm proud of you kiddo." Steve smiles at me, pulling me into a hug. "Thanks, old man. I couldn't have done it without you." I tell him truthfully, squeezing him tighter. "Your mom's must be proud. Especially Nat. Now's the time for celebrating." Pepper says. "Oh, I'm babysitting the boys tonight." I respond, trying to hide my disappointment. I notice that all others share a look.

They have all noticed how my relationship has changed with my moms, but thankfully, never brought it up. "We could watch them. Let you go out with your class. I know how much you've been looking forward to it." Pepper offers kindly. "Thanks, but mama said it had to be me." I reply. "Sorry kiddo." Steve says, wrapping his arms around me. "It's ok. I better go back before I get into trouble. I just wanted to tell you all about the results." I tell them.

"Of course Y/n. We're so proud of you. I can't wait to work with you." Tony pats me on the shoulder, whilst the others all give me a hug. "We'll do something together tomorrow." Steve promises and I nod. "I'd like that." I reply, taking a deep breath before heading back home.

When I get back to the apartment, both mom and mama are waiting to go. "Good, you're back. We'll be home late." Mom tells me, turning to leave. "And we'll talk about your attitude in the morning." Mama adds on with a stern look before turning to leave. "I love you." I call out after them. No response. My head drops. I really have just become the live in nanny.

_________

The next day, I didn't have to face my moms in the morning. They had taken the boys to the park and out for breakfast. I didn't even get an invite. But thankfully, Steve is taking me for dinner tonight to celebrate the passing of my exams and my imminent graduation.

He's taken me to my favourite Italian restaurant. It's nice to have this time. Steve really has been the only parent I've had recently. I'm so grateful for him. "So your moms don't know?" Steve asks as I tell him that I've been told I can move into SHIELD accommodation in a few days. "I've tried, but as usual, I barely have a conversation with them anymore. They probably wouldn't even notice that I've gone." I admit the painful truth. "Do you think they even still love me?" I ask the question that has been haunting me for a long time now.

Steve looks at me with a sympathetic look. He reaches out and takes my hand. "Oh Y/n. I'm sure they do. They just got lost in the boys and have forgot, that even though you're a teenager, you still need them." He tries to defend them. "If you say so." I mumble, not believing him.

"Well, I have something that might cheer you up." Steve says, changing the subject. "Oh yeah, and what might that be Captain?" I ask with a smirk, making him roll his eyes. "I spoke with Fury, and he already has a mission for you. It's nothing too big, a simple in and out to get some data." Steve explains, making a smile grow on my face. "Really? Me on a mission already?" I question and he nods. "Fury would have had you on them earlier. You've been the best recruit the programme has seen. But he had to follow protocol. There is one downside though." He shares. "Oh God, don't tell me it's with my mother?" I ask making him laugh. "No, just this old man." He responds. "Really? I'm going with you?" I ask excitedly. "Yeah, you don't need me. But I wanted to see you in action on your first mission. I really am proud of you kiddo. I'm glad that I've had a front row seat to seeing you become the woman you have." He expresses honestly, taking me off guard.

The rest of dinner is lovely, and I have a really nice time. It's nice to actually have someone care about your achievements. However, that happiness soon disappears when I enter the apartment to two angry moms. "Where do you think you've been? You've not been answering your phone." Mama yells at me. I reach into my pocket and see that my phone is dead.

"Sorry, my cell died." I tell her, but that doesn't help. "So, are you going to share where you were without telling us? It's 10pm Y/n!" Mom now joins in. "I was having dinner with Steve." I share. "Until this late. Why would you be going out for dinner on a school night? Why didn't he ask us first?" Mama questions me.

"We went out to celebrate when I missed going with my class. And it's not a school night. The programme has finished now." I tell them, trying to keep my cool. "Is this about that party you couldn't go to last night?" Mom asks. "No, actually, it was having someone to celebrate with that I finished top of my class and am now officially a SHIELD agent!" I snap back, taking them both by surprise.

"You've had your final exams already?" Mom asks, stepping closer but I pull away. "Yeah, I have told you on a number of occasions. But apparently you don't listen to me anymore." I admit, feeling tears building. "You finished top?" Mama says proudly, but I just scoff. Her pride is too late. "Like you even care." I growl. "Don't talk to your mother like that." Mom tells me off.

"Like what? You haven't given me the time of day in years. Why do you suddenly care that I was out late. Was I not around to be your personal babysitter? Or were you just annoyed I wasn't there for the one time you noticed I wasn't around." I call them both out taking them by surprise.

"Y/n it was one night." Mom tries to deny more calmly. "No, it wasn't. It's always the twins this, the twins that. I have to make allowances for them in my life and stop what I'm doing to be there to babysit them. When was the last time that you spent any time with me? When did you last tell me you love me or even acknowledge me?" I shout, tears falling down my cheeks, as my parents stand staring at me in shock.

"I have worked my ass off with SHIELD so I can get in and earn my spot with them. Where I can have my own place and start a life for myself. Because I clearly haven't been a part of this family for a long time." I share how I've been feeling. I notice that both their eyes tear up. "Oh Y/n, sweetheart, that's not the case. Of course you belong." Mama tries to argue, moving closer with a shaky hand out in front of her. I don't reach out. In fact, I move away. "Well neither of your actions have shown it in the last few years." I point out, making mom cry harder. "Look it's fine. I get it. I'm not your biological child. Billy and Tommy are. I'll always be grateful for you saving me from Hydra, but you've got your family now. Don't worry, I'll be gone in a couple of days." I say sadly before heading to my room, my moms frozen in shock in their spot.

I slam the door shut behind me, locking it and falling onto my bed. I bury my head into the pillow and sob. All the emotions I've been bottling up come out. My whole body wracks with each sob as I realise, it's official. I really have lost my family now.

Nat's POV:

I feel the tears slowly falling down my cheeks as I realise that my daughter stood before me as a broken girl who thinks her moms don't love her anymore. By the time I come to my senses, Y/n is already gone, and I'm left facing my wife who is sobbing. "Have we really been putting the boys first so much she thinks that we don't want her anymore?" I say at a whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"It's my fault. Things changed when I came into the picture, and we started trying for our own babies. We didn't even consider how that must have made her feel. We didn't even reassure her that we would still love her just as much, regardless of if the boys were ours biologically or not." Wanda responds.

I quickly move forward and wrap my arms around her. "It's not your fault my love. We both wanted that. Our lives are significantly better with you in them Wanda. But you're right. We should have tried harder to make sure we involved Y/n and showed her will still love her." I comfort her.

I can't believe that I've let Y/n get to this point. The day I found her in that cell, she changed my life for the better. She not only made me a mother, but she made me more human. She made me see there was more than being an Avenger. She is the reason that I who I am today. Yet I've neglected her. I got so focused on the twins that I didn't even notice how little I have seen Y/n.

"We should go and talk to her." I suggest whilst Wanda still clings to me. "She was angry. We should give her some space. Let's take her for breakfast in the morning. I'll ask Pepper to watch the boys and we can start to make this right." She counters. "But..." I start, not wanting to leave this longer than we have to. "This is our daughter we're talking about. She has your temper." Wanda tearily chuckles. "Hey!" I poorly defend. She's right though. She might not be biologically mine, but she is my mini me.

That night I don't sleep. All I can think of is every time that I blew Y/n off and decided to spend time with the twins instead. When did we stop doing things as a family? I try and think of the last time I trained with her or helped her prepare for her exams. God, how did I not even know she was taking them this week?! "Your thoughts are loud Detka." Wanda mumbles sleepily as she turns over to look at me. When she sees the distress on my face, she gives me a sympathetic smile. "She has worked so hard, and we didn't even know she was completing her final exams. She told us yet neither of us remembered or even heard her apparently. We are awful moms!" I sigh.

Wanda moves and pulls me into her embrace. "I know. I feel awful too. I'm so proud of her though. She finished top. She's just like you." She shares. "She's moving out." I realise whilst Wanda just looks at me confused. "What do you mean?" She questions. "She said she would be gone in a few days. She must have been assigned a room at SHIELD. Our little girl was ready to leave the nest and we didn't even know." I respond, another wave of sadness washing over me.

"We'll talk to her and make her see that she is still very much wanted here. If she still wants to move out that's fine, but she has to know that we love her and always have. We can't change the past but we sure as hell can make sure we change the future and how see feels." She says determined.

Neither of us really sleep. I think we regret not talking to her last night. But our tiredness soon takes over and we get some much need kip. It definitely won't do any of us favours when we talk to Y/n in the morning. She won't make it easy on us and I don't want to snap because I'm too tired.

When we eventually get up, we check on the boys and I go to ask Pepper if she would mind watching the boys. "Is Y/n not available?" Pepper asks with a humourless chuckle. "What? No, we're going to take her to breakfast." I respond, surprised at the bite to her tone. She hums in surprise. "I'll take the boys. Make sure you treat that girl. She definitely deserves it." She tells me firmly. I nod and thank her before going to get the boys.

"Everything ok?" Wanda asks me when I take Billy from her. "Whilst we've been failing to notice Y/n, I think everyone else has noticed our behaviour. It's very frosty down there." I tell her and she nods sadly. I guess we can't expect anything less.

It makes me wonder what could have happened if we didn't have everyone else around. They have clearly been supportive to her and been there when Wanda and I should have. What if she didn't have that support, would she have even still been with us?

Shaking off the thought, Wanda and I take the boys to the compound living room, where we receive a number of glares from the team that were there. Thankfully, nothing is said, but my guilt keeps on growing.

With the boys sorted, I take Wanda's hand and we head to Y/n's room. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. We wait anxiously but get no response. I try again, calling out to her this time. "Y/n, honey. Can we come in?" I ask, but once again, we're met by silence.

I look to Wanda who's got a concerned look on her face. "Sweetheart, we're going to come in now." Wanda speaks up and pushes down on the door handle. I'm surprised when it opens but that is soon replaced by shock when I see her room practically empty. There are a couple of boxes with her stuff in, but most of her clothes have gone.

I let go of Wanda's hand and quickly move into the ensuite to see if she's in there, but I'm met by more empty cabinets. Panic builds within me to know that she's gone. "Where is she?" Wanda asks as stands by the chest of draws, picking up photos that had been turned upside. She lets out a muffled sob when she sees they're our family photos. What have we done to our daughter.

"She's probably asked Fury if she could move sooner. Considering how much he loves her, I'm sure he would have done anything to get her in as soon as possible." I respond, letting out a sigh. "But she's only 17. She's still a kid." Wanda argues. "I know babe. But when she signed up, it was part of the contract that I signed as her parent. Besides, she turns 18 next week and we'd have no say anyway." I admit.

"Shit, is it already her birthday? We've done nothing to prepare for that. In fact, I'm sure we both forgot." Wanda exhales, running her hands through her hair, whilst I made sure all the photos were back upright. Though, I notice our last family photo was back when Y/n was just 15. We've got hundreds of photos with the twins, but it's been over two years since we've had a complete family photo.

Wanting to know that Y/n is ok, I grab my phone out and hit Fury's number. It rings out and I let out a sigh before trying Maria. "Romanoff." She greets me. "Hill, I was wondering if you could tell me if Y/n has moved into her room yet and if so where she's been placed. Wanda and I want to surprise her." I try my luck.

"I'm sorry, Y/n has asked that we don't disclose her room location at the moment. She has been allowed early move in, so will be in a position to share once the other agents are moving." Hill responds. "Please, Maria, I'm asking you as a friend. We really need to see Y/n." I plead, hoping she'll have sympathy on me. "And I'm telling you as a friend that how you treated your own daughter is unacceptable. Do you know why she was the best cadet to come through?" She calls me out. "No." I respond in a whisper. "Initially it was because she was trying to be just like her hero mothers. But she got even better when she was fighting to make her own name for herself to start her life over. I watched her personality change to become guarded and her walls built high. That's what you did to her Nat." She scolds me through the phone.

"I know Maria. We have fucked up more than we thought possible and we're trying to make this right. We can't do that if we can't even speak with her." I counter. "This isn't something you can just fix with a talk and a hug. This is years of you slowly neglecting her. Pushing yourself onto her is not going to help with that." Maria warns me. I know she's right. We'll end up pushing Y/n away if we're not careful. But I also know that I can't wait to fix this. I want my baby girl to know how much I love her. Despite my inability to show her these last few years.

Wanda and I spend the day trying to get any information on where Y/n might be. We get a lot of cold shoulders, and our questions often go answered. I even spend time hanging around the Shield accommodation to see if I can catch a glimpse of her. My lucks not in and I return home deflated.

When I walk through the door, a smile forms on my face as I see Wanda giving the boys dinner. "Any luck?" She asks. I just shake my head. "We'll find her." She says confidently. "When was the last time we had dinner with Y/n?" I ask, looking to Wanda who's looking at me sympathetically. "Detka, you are punishing yourself by think that." She scolds me lightly. "It's true though. She asked when we last said I love you to her. I've been trying to think, and I don't remember. How can a mother not remember when they last said I love you to their child. Have we really subconsciously disregarded her because she isn't biologically ours?" I share my thoughts, tears falling freely down my face.

Wanda quickly moves from the table, leaving the boys to carry on talking about the latest Nintendo game they're playing. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in close. "We let ourselves get lost in the boys. They were a handful and we were blessed with a daughter who was selfless and caring. Subconsciously, we took advantage of that. But that changes now ok." She responds as I nod in the crock of her neck. We really need to fix this.

__________

It's been a few days and we've still had no luck in seeing Y/n. Wanda and I decided to go to Shield to talk to Fury today, whilst the boys were in school. I head straight to his office, knocking twice before heading in, not caring if he's busy. "Romanoff, Maximoff. What can I do for you?" He asks, moving his gaze from the laptop in front of him.

"It's been long enough now Fury. The other agents have started moving in and Y/n is still only 17, so tell us where she is staying." I demand, my tone harsh. "I can give you her room allocation, but she's not there." Fury responds, just angering me more. "Then where the hell is she?!" I shout, only calming down when I feel Wanda squeeze my hand. "She's on a mission. She'll back tomorrow." He responds nonchalantly.

"A mission? She's 17 Fury! How is she already going on a mission?!" Wanda responds before I even manage to direct my own anger into words. "She is almost 18 and finished top of her class. You knew that was a possibility when you signed her up Romanoff. She has the potential to be the best agent we've seen. She is ready." Fury retorts, but I'm still not happy. "She's just a kid, she could get hurt." I growl, worry taking over me.

"Natasha, she is far from the kid you think she is. If you still trained with her, you'd see that she can almost beat Steve in hand to hand combat and her weapons skill matches your own, if not better in some instances." He points out and I realise how little I actually know my daughter right now. "Look, I'll keep you posted when she's back." Fury concedes after a moment silence.

"Thank you. Is she on her own?" I ask but he shakes his head. "Steve went to be on comms." He replies and that puts my mind at ease a little. He loves her like his own, he'll do everything that he can to protect her. "Ok. Thank you." I say, taking Wanda's hand a heading home.

"We've missed so much Nat. Y/n used to tell us everything about her training and classes. We've created an environment where she doesn't feel like she can share with us anymore. She was probably so excited to get a chance on her first mission. But instead of us being with her and making sure she's prepared, we didn't even know she had gone." Wanda agonises.

"I'm worried that we may not be able to fix this. If her walls have gone up, they'll be near impossible to knock them down." I sigh. "You had walls once. What helped you to let them down?" Wanda asks. "Y/n." I respond, my gaze dropping to my hands. "Then we find away to be the same for her." Wanda tries to comfort me. But how can the people that caused her this pain, be the ones to pull her through.

The next morning is quiet whilst we get the boys ready for school. They asked this morning where Y/n was and that they missed her. It broke my heart. Because of our actions, not only is Y/n feeling alone, isolated, and not part of this family, but her brother might lose the chance of having their sister in their lives.

When we get home, we end up just sat waiting for any news that Y/n is on her way home so we can greet her. I want to be able to hear all about how her first mission went and actually be apart of something so special to her. I may not have shown it, but I've always been proud of her. She is talented and I loved training with her. I had always planned to join her again once the twins were old enough. But I didn't and it seems that I have missed out on so much.

Whilst I'm preparing lunch, I hear Friday's alarm go off and my ears tune in. "Emergency medical team to the landing bay. Emergency medical team to the landing bay." I don't even think before I'm dropping the knife onto the countertop. I go to call for Wanda, but she rushes in from the bedroom. "Something's wrong with Jess. I can feel it." She says worriedly. "Let's go." I say, taking her hand and rushing through the compound to get to the landing bay.

Cho is waiting, along with a nursing staff. "Is it Y/n?" I ask as we come to a halt next to her. It feels like an age before she responds. A small nod of the head breaks my heart. "H-how bad?" Wanda asks, a tremble to her voice. "Steve confirmed a gunshot wound. She's lost a lot of blood." She responds. I run my hand through my hair, my stomach in knots.

It feels like the world around me has become muffled. I don't hear the orders that Cho is giving her team. Had I been able to, maybe I would have known more about her condition. My chest feels tight at the thought of her being hurt and the chance that she might not make it.

It's not until a pair of hands cup my face, that I zone back into the environment around me. "Breathe for me baby." Wanda's shaking voice tries to calm me. But the complete fear in her own eyes doesn't do much to help. We're facing losing our daughter and she doubts the depths of our love for her.

I do my best to bring myself out of this panic attack. I can't be a broken version of myself. My wife and family need me more than ever. If I can't pull through now, I'm not worthy to be a mother. "That's it detka. Deep breathes." Wanda guides me. I take one more deep breath and stand straighter. This isn't about me.

I can see a frown on Wanda's face form as she sees me put up my own walls. I know that she hates when I do this, but it's the only way I know how to get through what's about to happen without completely breaking down.

It's not long until the QuinJet comes into sight and slowly starts to descend on to the landing pad. I feel like I'm holding my breath as we wait for the ramp to lower, and we can see how bad this is. My heart is thumping against my chest as it begins to lower, and I see Steve's face first.

Cho and her team move forward, a bed waiting, whilst Wanda and I hold back. I want to be by her side straight away, but I also know that we'll just be a hinderance to her care if we insist on being with her.

When we get a full view of Steve, I hear Wanda let out a sob beside me. He's holding our unconscious daughter in his arms. His own suit is covered in blood and my eyes instantly land on the blooded dressing on her stomach. "I tried to staunch the bleeding as best I could. But it just kept coming." Steve explains. I've never seen him so shaken up before.

He places Y/n on the hospital bed and moves out the way, before staring at his bloodied hands. Cho doesn't wait before rushing Y/n off to the medical bay, the three of us closely following behind.

"Is she going to be ok?" I ask as they start to get to work. But before she has a chance to respond, the machines start to go crazy and they move even faster to help my daughter.  "I can't answer that right now Agent Romanoff. I need to focus on Y/n, but I promise I'll keep you updated." Cho says, her polite way of telling us to leave. I'm reluctant, knowing that in this moment, Y/n is on the verge of life or death. But with a subtle tug of my hand from Wanda, I follow to watch through the window outside.

My gaze doesn't leave my daughter as I watch over as the team work to save her life. I don't notice that another person has joined us until I hear a bang from behind me. My head shoots around where I see Steve pinning Fury to the wall. "You told us it was empty! That all she needed was to get to the drive and out again." Steve growls at Fury who's holding his hand up in surrender. "I know." He responds, but Steve isn't happy when he slams him against the wall again.

"Then why the hell is she led in that hospital fighting for her life. There was a whole guard waiting for her!" Steve yells. This information makes the anger inside me grow. "You sent her into an ambush?!" I join in now, furious that he has put my daughter in danger.

"I didn't know! I'm as surprised as you are." Fury tries to explain, but Steve isn't letting up. "Talk!" Steve spits. "I had an agent scout the base for two weeks! Every report was how there was no activity. I would never have sent her had I know there was any more risk. It was supposed to be an easy mission for her first." Fury explains.

I can see the honesty in his eyes, and I know Steve does too. Fury has been like family to Y/n and I do trust he would never willingly put her in unnecessary danger. "So, either Hydra suddenly decided to man the base or..." Steve starts. "The agent tipped them off." I finish off as Fury nods. "I've detained the agent, and he broke within minutes. It was a perfect opportunity for them to fight you without back up." Fury shares as Steve lets him go. "Except I wasn't meant to go in. So, they were faced with Y/n." Steve concludes.

"I'm sorry Nat. I really am. I never would put Y/n in danger like that. I wanted her to have a successful first mission. One that would build her confidence." Fury apologises with a sincerity that he rarely shows. "I want to see him." I state firmly, to which Fury sighs. "Me too. It's because of him that our daughter is fighting for her life." Wanda steps beside me, her eyes glowing red. "Not now, not while you're both angry and worried." Fury refuses. "He could be the reason my daughter dies!" I shout at him, but he doesn't budge. "And he'll also be the reason I have to arrest you for killing him. If it's not you it'll be Wanda. I'm not letting either of you do that." Fury once again declines.

In a huff, I drop to the seat in the waiting room, my head falling into my hands. He's right. I will kill him if I get my hands on him. "Be here for Y/n. She needs you now more than ever. Leave the rest to me. I can promise that he will not get away with it." Fury orders, the formality coming back into his tone. We all reluctantly agree, and he leaves content that, for now, a homicide will not be occurring.

"What happened?" I ask Steve when the silence becomes almost unbearable. He takes the seat next to me and his gaze falls to his blooded hands. "It was meant to be a simple mission to test her hacking. I was in the QuinJet for support, and she was to go in, get to the mainframe computer and download as much data as possible." He starts and I nod along. "It was going fine, and she was doing everything by the book, clearing each room one by one. Part of me was sure she would be just like you and be impatient to get what she needed." He shares, with a small smile, making me chuckle. "Thankfully, she's a far better agent than I am." I respond, feeling Wanda's hand interlink with mine.

"It was as she got to the second floor, she said something felt off. It was warmer and it didn't smell as damp and musty. She said there were signs that this floor had been used recently. Knowing the risk that could entail, I told her to pull back and we'd get a team to help us clear the base. It wasn't something we should be doing on our own." He continues to explain, my anger towards the double agent increasing by the minute. But I also feel pride at how she was able to establish that something was wrong.

"She did as I ordered, but she was ambushed on her way out. I was already on my way in to meet her when I heard gunshots start. By the time I reached her, all the agents were down around her, but an alarm was blaring, and I knew others would be on their way. I grabbed at Y/n's arm, but she didn't move. As I moved in front of her, it was then I saw where her gaze was fixed. She's been hit. I got her out of there as quickly as I could and set the QuinJet to fly on autopilot. I tried everything that I could to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much. I-I...." Steve starts to crumble as he aggressively rubs at the blood on his hands.

I reach out and place my hands over his, stopping his actions. "I know you would have done everything you could Steve. We don't blame you. I'm so grateful that you were there to help our daughter." I try to reassure him. "I'm going to clean up. I can't sit here with...this on my hands any longer." Steve says, standing up holding his hands out in front of him.

Silence falls again when it's just Wanda and me. I want to look through the window again, but I don't think I can see them working on her. If she dies, I can't watch that. She looked so small as Steve laid her on the bed. "I had always hoped I'd be with her on her first mission." I speak up, guilt building once again. "Hmm" Wanda responds, turning to look at me. "When we used to train together, I always knew she would be one of the best the agency we would see. I couldn't wait to work along side her. My pride was overwhelming." I share as Wanda smiles softly at me.

"What happened? Why did I let myself lose sight of her. I have no excuse for treating her how I did. When I adopted her, I promised that she would always be loved and safe. Look at her now. I wouldn't blame her if she never forgives me." I lament, tears stinging my eyes. "It wasn't just you babe. We both have done wrong by Y/n and it's not forgivable. But we can work to earn her trust back and be the mothers that she deserves." She tries to comfort me.

"What if she doesn't make it and we don't have a chance to make things right? Or she does make it through, but she wants nothing to do with us?" I question in a panic. "I think she always hoped you'd eventually pull your heads out your asses." Steves voice takes us both by surprise as he rejoins us in a pair of sweats and a hoody. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"Fury loves that kid. If she had asked to move out sooner, he would have allowed her too. I think part of her didn't want to go just in case you started being the loving and caring mothers you once were. Ultimately, she was still a kid and desperate to still have you in her life." He clarifies. "But she had already gone. We blew our last shot." Wanda speaks up. "Maybe you're right. But if anyone is worth fighting for. It's her." Steve points out and I couldn't agree more. I know that I'll do anything in my power to make things right and hopefully prove to my daughter that I love her more than I can express.

After hours of waiting, too scared to even glance through the window, Cho comes out of the medical room with a solemn look, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. I feel my breathing pick up once again, the thought of not being able to fix everything with Y/n becomes suffocating. It's not until Wanda grasps my hand that I find myself zoning back in.

"H-how is s-she?" I find myself asking in a quiet, unsure voice. Cho sighs and takes the seat opposite us, her hands interlocked. "Y/n suffered a gunshot wound to her abdomen. The bullet went straight through her liver. We were required to remove part of her liver, to ensure we saved her life. This was harder with the amount of blood that she lost. However, we were able to stabilise her before repairing the damage done to her liver." She explains.

"So, she's going to be, ok?" Wanda asks to clarify. "It's going to be touch and go. She's extremely weak right now and the next couple of days are going to be critical to her recovery. If she can pull through these next few days, I believe she'll make a full recovery. Though it'll take a lot of rehab to adjust to the changes to her body." Cho confirms.

I let out a small sob, knowing that she can pull through this. I have to believe that she will make it through these next few days, and we can be there to support her through her recovery. "Will she be able to return to full field duties?" Steve asks, clearly agitating Wanda. "Really Steve. That's what you're concerned about right now?" She snaps.

He turns to look at us and I know exactly why he's asking. "The SHIELD programme is everything to Y/n. To lose it after only just achieving it, that will crush her." Steve defends. "I think she would rather be alive right now." Wanda snaps back. "You just don't want to face that the honest truth is that without this programme, Y/n will feel like she has nothing, and I hate to say it, but she won't be too happy about being alive." Steve shares, an angry, yet sad look on his face.

Wanda goes to argue back, a look of hurt washing over her face. But I hold my hand up to stop her. "He's right my love." I interrupt her, making her snap her head to me. "SHIELD was the only family she thought that she had after she believed that she didn't belong in this family anymore. It will break her if she can't carry on what she worked so hard to achieve." I admit sadly.

I lock eyes with Wanda, and I see her heartbreak even further, if that's possible. "It'll take time and a lot of hard work, but I believe that Y/n would be able to return to full duties within SHIELD." Cho chips in, reminding us all that she was still in the room. "But first, she needs to get through the next few days." She reiterates, making all of us nod.

"Can we see her?" I ask, desperate to be with her and to hold her hand. "Of course. I'll be in my office, but the nursing staff will monitor her hourly." She smiles at us and leaves us to it. I take Wanda's hand and lead her towards the door and slowly push the door open. I let out a gasp when I see my little girl led in bed. She has a tube down her throat and wires attached to so many machines.

I've seen many people in this situation. But when it's your own daughter, there aren't words to describe the pain you feel. How helpless you are to make them better. All you can do is sit and watch as you wait for fate to take its course. Praying that you get your daughter back.

I instantly move to take a seat next to her bed, taking her hand in mine and holding it tightly. I notice the bruising to her knuckles, showing she fought. It brings a small smile of pride to my face.

Wanda goes to the opposite side of the bed and gently places her hand on Y/n's head. "I'm so sorry moya Lyubov." She whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "We promise we're going to make things right. We are so sorry that you ever felt like you didn't belong in this family. You'll never doubt this again!" I make promise to her now, one that I will repeat when she wakes up. Because she will wake up.

Part 2

#marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #avengers fanfiction #marvel #avengers #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader

[athena5898]

I often think when people hear "infantilizing a group of people", they think of it literarily that we are actively being made a infant. While this is a part of it, I think people miss the subtle things that end up causing chasms in their relationships with that group of people.

It's actually hard to pinpoint because it's never a singular event, it's many tiny things but the end result is always "I am the authority, I will always know more then you, I will never take your advice, I will never be honest with you (you know to spare *your* feelings), any disagreement is your fault, any problem in your life is my cross to bear and you must follow how I tell you to fix it, I will never stoop myself to understanding what your needs are as X group and will view everything from my own lens and judge you accordingly, we are not equals, and we never will be. (This is not a exhausted list, nor will everyone have all the same traits)

It is very hard to connect with someone who just automatically assumes a higher status to you just because of something you can't change. All the while the offender thinks what they are doing is actually a good thing. They are somehow helping you by just assuming they are better then you (which in the end, that's kinda what this is).

I have a few people in my life that I care for a lot, but they are not that much older then me yet they act like I can't possibly understand them and automatically shove this "child" label on my forhead.

And here is the thing, they will voluntarily bring up why they think this if you pay attention. It might be trauma they've dealt with, it might be that they have kids and you don't, age, or anything else like this. However I think it's important to note that I have friends who do not talk down to me and respect me as my own person with autonomy and also have these things going on in their life. So it's not like it's impossible to treat someone with respect and have these differences.

Now what do some of these subtle differences look like? There are many ways they can materialize but to name a few.

- Demanding the person solves a problem their way despite the person telling them why their circumstances do not allow that.

- assuming...well anything and all the time. These people have a tendency to think they know exactly what you are feeling and other such things and if you try to correct them then they will actually get upset at you or show some type of passive aggressiveness.

-Speaking on your behalf without asking permission

-never valuing your expertise on any subject. They are older/more mature then you, therefore to them they know more about everything. What's really fun (/s) about this is when they will explain to you, why you are wrong, by repeating what you said back at you.

- any reason why you can't do a thing, or why you need an aide is an excuse. You could do it if you *really* wanted to, but you are just being lazy. Now the real adult has to take up your burden.

- they do not/cannot listen to you. No matter what you say or how you say it, or if they even confirm what you say, there is always a part of them that is not listening. Or hell, they could of listened to you, but since what you say isn't important to them, they will quickly forget it and may even try and claim you never said anything to them.

- I'm not sure if this counts as infantilizing, but I notice that it happens a lot in tandem. While they think less of you and treat you like a child whose facts and opinions don't matter, all of this will change at a moment's notice when they need something from you...oddly enough something they probably normally do not take seriously from you on a normal day. Suddenly thrusting you with this burden of taking care of them even though they are never there for you in any meaningful actually helpful way most of the time. Like you will literally be demanded to stop what you are doing, and get over whatever you are going through to help them and their problem. I cannot explain how frustrating it is to be demanded to be the mature one while most of the time being denied respect.

I could go on, but honestly if I sat here and thought of every single tiny thing they do to make sure there is distance between you and them up on their self made pedestals, I'd be here all day.

The worst part on all of this is that I have no idea how to resolve it. People who do this are not inherently bad people, hell they might not even realize they do it. But this can actually make it more difficult to bring to their attention. I have tried many ways and many different times to resolve this, but I haven't been successful yet. Anyone who has corrected themselves were people who just had a little mess up but still obviously viewed me as a person from the start.

These subtle ways someone can dehumanize you, it can cause terrible rifts and of course the other person never understands why (see point above about not listening)

I am writing this as a autistic person, but I know there are others who go through this. Please check the ways you create artificial authority over someone.

Edit: someone reblogged this with hashtags about how we shouldn't do this to children either and I completely agree, I was using the term because it's the one often used to explain these things. Adding the edit cause I have no idea how to respond to the hashtag thing and I think it's a important thing to note.

#actually autistic #autism #disability #neurodiversity #neurodivergent #infantilism #blog #why do people gotta be weird about shit

[byunpum]

Mama's Boy | Part 6 (final)

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: conflict, family problems, soft moments.

Note: You don't know how difficult it is to do something again that you already had done. I tried to make it like the previous one, but I think I'm missing some parts. Still, it's quite long. And I feel like it was lacking in the end… I wish it was the work I had already done, because that was great. Still, I hope you like this part a lot. Thank you very much for your support with this mini-series. There are many more coming!! btw I recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

You had to live with the continuous rejection since you agreed to be a couple with jake and neytiri. That was something you knew was going to happen. But when it was just you, everything was cool, you never cared. You always ignored the bad comments and went on with your life as if nothing had happened. But as soon as you became lo'ak's mother, things changed. Now you were a mother, one who wanted to be accepted among the group of mothers in the clan. When it was only neytiri who had neteyam, you used to accompany her. And nobody said anything…but now it was difficult. They were always saying comments about you and lo'ak. How they didn't believe that you were his mother, or that you weren't good enough for him and your family. Somehow this started to get to you. Trying to protect lo'ak was always difficult for you, but you always managed to find a way. But now you felt you weren't…much less in your current state.

You hadn't seen your family for months, now you have the chance to be reunited with them. And it seems that since you arrived things have gone from bad to worse. Or so that woman says…ronal. You didn't want her words to affect you, but hell…they were. You felt bad for your family, for lo'ak and even for the child that was on the way. It would have been easier if you had never involved yourself with Jake, and that your children could have a normal family, that lo'ak could have a normal family. He would have been happier.

You had left Ronal's hut, you were walking slowly. You still didn't want to go home, you knew everyone already knew the news. And even you didn't know how to react. You just passed by the shore, and you noticed that in the distance you could see lo'ak. He was alone…you knew from his posture that he was sad. You carefully descend the woven paths, and jump down to the sand. To now close in on your child. -"Hey…" you speak, watching as the boy turns and smiles softly. "Hi..mom" lo'ak turns, to stretch out his hand. Helping you to sit next to him, you settle in. Pulling your knees to your chest, the night was cold for your liking. "Mom, are you feeling better? Neteyam said you are in serious condition" says lo'ak you could see the worried eyes. You stroke his arm a little, holding it now to make him come closer to you. "I'm fine…I'm just a little sick, that's all," you explain.

"mom said you were pregnant, is that true?" asks lo'ak, you look up to see him. You could notice how his little ears pinned back. - "I see the news is spreading fast around here….but yes." You touch your stomach, then look up at lo'ak. - "There's a baby here," you say, looking back out to sea. Lo'ak notices this reaction of yours, something was happening to you. You weren't his mother as usual…you looked sad.

"Aren't you happy?" asks Lo'ak. -And you? What do you think?" you ask him back. Lo'ak was silent for a moment, looking sideways. He thinks carefully about his answer. "Well… I feel jealous" says lo'ak pouting a little. This makes you chuckle a little, he looked so adorable. "Well… yes I'm happy, I just feel even bad and…nothing" you didn't want to worry lo'ak anymore. He was still so young, you didn't want him to carry your stupid traumas. He had been through so much at such a young age, and telling him your problems wouldn't help him much. -Mom… will you still love me?" lo'ak looks at you with wide eyes. - "My baby… the arrival of this baby won't change anything… sure, he'll get a little attention because he's the youngest. But you will always be my prince" you pull lo'ak to you, watching the boy. He settles down, to lay his head in your lap. Settling down in the sand. - "mama loves you so much…so so much" you speak, stroking lo'ak's hair. You look down, to see him. He was growing so fast, you still couldn't believe it.

After a while, you and Lo'ak decide to go back to the hut. When you enter you can see that everyone in the family was there, it seems that you were waiting for you. - "Hello" you greet, stepping carefully inside. While lo'ak was in the back making sure you were okay. You were still a little weak. Neytiri gets up from where she was, approaching you towards her. -"you're supposed to be with ronal" says neytiri, seeing you roll your eyes.

. -I'd rather die at home," you joke, but you see kiri and tuk's little face is one of worry. "are you going to die?!!!" tuk starts to whine. "No, no honey…it's a joke" you try to apologize to the little girl. -" No, she gave me this medicine and told me I could come back…I'm better" you speak, but you can see neytiri's and jake's face. It was one of happiness, they were waiting for you to say something about the creature that was on its way. -"Besides…I heard that you had already come with the news that I was pregnant" you cross your arms. Neytiri laughs nervously, "I'm sorry, I'm excited." You give Neytiri a smile.

You knew how exciting this news was for everyone. You had hoped to be pregnant for so many years, and it never happened. After lo'ak you wanted to have a baby two years later, but nothing. Neytiri was always there for you. As much as you, she also hoped that you would have a baby. But hopes were lost with time. Even when neytiri announced that she was expecting tuk, she felt bad for telling you the news, neytiri felt that she had betrayed you. You responded to her, telling her she was a fool, you were so happy for the arrival of little tuk. You were so happy about the arrival of the little tuk that you eventually forgot the idea of having another child. But here you are… you finally got what you were looking for. And you felt so guilty at the same time.

That night everyone had a quiet dinner, no one argued and everything was peaceful. Celebrating the news of a new member. Neteyam was teasing lo'ak, saying that he would no longer be your baby. While kiri was playing along. Meanwhile, tuk put his ear to your stomach, hoping to hear something -" I can just hear your guts mom" tuk pouts in annoyance, and you start laughing." Baby…it's still too small" jake says, he was next to you, he had you wrapped in his arms. "But I'm supposed to be able to hear him…he doesn't talk" tuk complains, she didn't know much about babies. "Don't worry…when he's born he's going to talk to you a lot" says neytiri, taking tuk on her lap. "I want it to be a girl…so she can be my best friend" tuk settles down on neytiri's chest, looking for the sleep. "Well…whatever it is, she/he is going to be your best friend, I promise" you watch as tuk smiles softly. And begins to drift off to sleep. Eventually all the children begin to go to their beds. Leaving only the adults awake.

Neytiri settled tuk in her hammock, and went over to where you and Jake were sitting. You were both outside the marui, talking. "Well…they're finally asleep," jokes Neytiri, sitting down next to Jake. "And wait till this little kid gets here…. the calm will go away" jake laughs a little, touching your stomach. But he can tell how serious you were. Jake looks at neytiri, to make sure she noticed your behavior too. You didn't used to be like that, you looked sad. Like something was wrong with you. Jake thinks you are still upset with him…but you had said that this discussion was going to end. -"Ma y/n…is something wrong?" asks Neytiri, getting up from Jake's side to sit on your right side. Bringing her whole body closer to your side. -" Yes…just, I feel a little sick" you speak. You don't want them to start asking questions.

"You're sure…because you looked fine a while ago" Jake knows something is wrong with you. You sigh loudly, taking a deep breath -" I think it would be best if I went back to camp" you begin to speak. -" Y/n…you can't go back to camp. They know who you are…they are looking for us and they can hurt you. No…you stay here with us" jake was getting a little agitated, it was too dangerous for you to go back. The situation with the RDA was quiet, but that didn't mean they wouldn't attack. Neytiri touches Jake's shoulder to calm him down. -"But why do you want to come back, don't you want to be with us?" asks Neytiri, she seemed to be calm. "Of course I want to be here…I love all this…but I feel that I am a problem for you. You guys were peaceful before I was here. Since I've been here it's been all arguments and problems. I want to go back and leave you alone" you had started to cry, you felt so silly. Here making a drama out of something so stupid.

"Why do you think that? Ma y/n you are not a problem for us, never say that" neytiri hugs you on her chest, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head. -Y/n look at me" jake takes your chin to look at him a little. " We have arguments like any other family, and that's normal. This whole situation of a new home…I know it must be hard for you. If it's hard for us, it must be twice as hard for you." Jake speaks. -" But you're not the cause of any of our problems…if we're talking about someone causing problems, it would be me. Because I bet if you two were alone, you'd be happy" that comment from Jake makes you laugh a little. Neytiri wipes the tears from your cheeks. "I know that being a sky people…and the whole acceptance thing has always made you uncomfortable and maybe it's a problem for a lot of people. But not for us, not for me. You are our family…and we will always be united," says Neytiri as she caresses your cheek.

"Let's stop crying, it's not good for you. Neither you nor our baby" Neytiri pulls down a little, and gives you a soft kiss. "See…I'm the one who's left over here" jake jokes, making you both laugh, breaking the awkward moment. You take his hand, inviting him to join you. -"By the way…why were you thinking those things?" neytiri asks. You pull away from her a little. "Ahh it was a comment ronal made…but never mind" you watch as neytiri's ears perk up and her nose wrinkles. "calm baby" jake says, looking at neytiri. You knew what neytiri thought of ronal. They had been in the metkayina clan for a while and she still couldn't tolerate that woman. But she would deal with this, neytiri wasn't going to leave it at that. ++++ The next morning, you felt a little better. Better in health and in spirits. You needed to have that talk with Neytiri and Jake. Their opinion was very important to you and setting the record straight helped you feel better. Jake and neytiri left early for a day of hunting that tonowari and ao'nung invited them to, while you stayed at the marui with lo'ak, kiri and tuk. Neytiri had gone for a 'walk', she didn't tell you exactly where she was going. But you didn't think much of it, Neytiri wasn't a troublemaker, so you stayed calm. -"Good morning mama" lo'ak just got up, sitting down next to you. You were humming, while tucking one of his braids behind his ears. "Are you hungry? Here's some fruit" you hand him his portion of fruit. The boy was snoozing, still sleepy. "Ahh my poor baby" you hug lo'ak. -"A giant ugly baby," says Kiri. The girl had been sitting next to you. Lo'ak pulls out his tongue at his sister, they were about to start arguing, when you scold them.-"Hey, it's too early for you to start with your stuff, let's eat" you say, taking Kiri's hand so that she sits next to you and starts eating. Tuk was still asleep, so you leave her alone.

"Lo'ak…after you finish eating, could you please go get some more fruit." you speak, you see lo'ak nod his head, the boy had his mouth full. "Kiri…you should go and join your brother" you can hear the girl complain, "ahhh mama!!!" kiri complains, lately she wanted to stay all day at the marui. You knew she missed spider, but it wasn't right for her to do nothing all day. "You're going to go and stretch your feet and hands and your whole body, yes?" you look at Kiri, she was grim-faced. Sometimes she looked so much like grace, you adored her. "Ok, I'll go…but I'll come back quickly. I want to be with you" kiri rolls her eyes, and keeps eating. After eating kiri and lo'ak walked out of marui, leaving the place still and quiet. You hope that this day will continue to be quiet. But you are not aware of what Neytiri was about to do.

Neytiri had a mission when she woke up that morning, and she was going to accomplish it. No one was going to talk about her partner, no one. And for Ronal to say those words to you, it hurt her very much. Neytiri knew that she was not very welcome in the clan, and the only reason they were still there. It was because they needed it and because Tonowari had accepted it. She arrives at where ronal was, the woman was on her way to her marui when she met neytiri. "hello," says ronal. And neytiri greets her, insisting that they should talk. Ronal thinks for a moment, she had already dealt with Neytiri. And she knew she was a strong woman, and that the only reason she would talk to her is because something had happened. Ronal invites Neytiri into her marui. Neytiri sits down, analyzing the whole situation around her. -"So what brings you here?" asks Ronal.

"First I'm grateful for the help towards y/n, thank you" says neytiri. Seeing how ronal lowers her head and laughs to herself. -"Yes, you're welcome, after all that's my job," says ronal.

"yesterday… when y/n came out of your marui, she told us that you had told her that it was better for her to go back to the jungle, and that we were better off without her. I'd rather you stay out of our business and save your opinions," says neytiri, and from the tone of voice it didn't sound kind. Neytiri didn't care what position Ronal had, no one was going to meddle in her business. -"I don't think I said anything that wasn't true, or am I wrong?" ronal knows how to get neytiri out of her mind. "Our life as a family is not your business," neytiri says.

"What family? The strange inter-species gathering you have, because you yourselves became a point of opinion when you accepted that demon into your family" spits ronal. Neytiri takes a deep breath, clenching her hands. "I recommend you keep quiet…" says neytiri, trying to control herself. "I thought it was a joke when they said that demon was your mate, but now it turns out you have a half-Na'vi child and another on the way, who knows how I will come." Ronal doesn't know what she is provoking. Neytiri is holding back, but it is driving her point across. "She will still be a demon, and everything that comes from her will be" those were ronal's last words, until neytiri got up from the ground. Pulling out her knife in one swift movement. Approaching ronal, she curled her up in her seat.

Placing the weapon to her neck. "Let this be the first and last time you talk about my family like that…you don't know how things happened. I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO TALK SHIT ABOUT MY MATE AND MY CHILDREN, EVER!!!" neytiri screams. The woman is furious, neytiri had been through a lot of anger with you, and it wasn't because of you. It was not because of you, but because of the people around her.

Neytiri was not a fan of humans, if she could be away from them so much the better. But she loved you, you were different for her. She saw you as a creature and not as a human. You and neytiri have known each other for years, since grace school. You know everything neytiri has been through and you have always been there for her. It was painful for her when you two had to move away from each other, it was almost like another loss for her. But since you two became a couple with Jake, her anger about the comments made to you had grown. The na'vi saying nasty things about you, no matter that your children were there. Saying that you were too extra in their family. But when neytiri was going to react to those comments, you were always there to stop her, telling her to ignore them. But yesterday, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Neytiri had gone through so much these past few months, and when she finally felt a little happiness with the arrival of you and a new baby, this idiot comes to ruin her life. This idiot came to ruin it, she was annoyed. Why weren't you here to stop her. -"I recommend you put down that knife," says Ronal, looking into Neytiri's eyes. These were black with fury.

By coincidence or by pure luck. Kiri and lo'ak were passing by ronal and tonowari's marui. When they saw the situation forming, lo'ak and kiri immediately run to stop their mother. Lo'ak grabs neytiri from behind, pulling her off of ronal. -"Mom, what's wrong? Calm down!!!" says lo'ak, while kiri stands in front of her mother hugging her. Neytiri is a little upset, screaming to be released. But her children were holding her back, they didn't understand what was going on. -"Kiri goes and gets dad," lo'ak orders Kiri. The girl runs off as fast as she can to look for her father. While lo'ak tries to reassure her mother. -Mom calm down, why are you acting like this?" lo'ak is confused, he has never seen his mother act like this before. "Don't you dare say a damn thing about my family!!!" shouts neytiri.

In the family marui…

Jake arrived with neteyam, carrying a basket full of fish. "Love…look at all the stuff we brought, neteyam was amazing. Next time I'm going to take lo'ak with me" jake was so happy, coming up to give you a quick kiss. "mmm I see, congratulations" you kiss him back. Moving closer to neteyam, to help him. "Thank you mom," says neteyam. - "Honey…go and eat your breakfast, yes?" you say. Handing him his fruit packet, your poor boy had left very early and you know he hadn't eaten. "hey, where's neytiri and the kids?" asks jake, sitting down next to you. "Neytiri told me she was going for a walk and told the kids to go get more fruit" you say. -Perfect" says Jake getting down to give you a kiss on your shoulder. "I love you…I don't like it when you're mad at me" Jake speaks in your ear. You laugh a little, because you were still mad at him. But he knew how to play your game.-"mmm we'll see…I love you too" you look up, waiting for jake to give you a kiss. When an altered kiri runs up to marui. "DADDY I NEED YOUR HELP WITH MOM, SHE IS DISCUSSING WITH RONAL, SHE HAD HIS KNIFE ON HER NECK" kiri yells, the girl was so upset. "What?" you guys stand up quickly. Following the girl. "Neteyam, kiri stay with tuk, please" you ask that favor, and walk out behind jake.

Tonowari had arrived on the scene, trying to calm everything down. "SHE was the one who started saying all those things!!!" neytiri is defending herself. "I told the truth!!!" ronal on the other hand defending her point. While tonowari was trying to understand what happened. He had in front of him two women with a strong character. Jake approaches and you were behind him. "Mom" lo'ak walks up to you, holding your hand. "What happened?" you ask, this was crazy. Lo'ak looks at you, lifting his shoulders. Neytiri was screaming and so was ronal. And on the other side was Tonowari and jake. - "mom come on, let's go!!!" lo'ak was dragging you with him. The boy didn't want you to be there, he thought it was a dangerous situation. Little by little you move away from the group, and you decide to listen to lo'ak. And you both walk towards your marui.

You were nervous, because lo'ak didn't know what had happened, much less you. And the best thing you did was to walk away, you are getting really sick. Suddenly you see how jake and neytiri enter. - "neytiri all that…" jake starts. - "Nobody is going to be talking about my family, my children…nobody." neytiri was so upset. "What's going on?" you get up from the floor, looking at jake. - "listen to me…we will stay here until the baby is born, then we will leave" says jake. What was going on, this was a lot of information to process. But with the look Jake and Neytiri were giving you, you knew they were serious. This was a choice they had made, and they had no intention of changing it.

When the dust settled, Jake explained everything. This agreement he made with Tonowari. After all the discussion was calmed down and explained. Tonowari knew that Ronal could be cruel when he spoke and didn't mean what he said. So he didn't blame neytiri too much for reacting that way, but he also had to defend his partner. Jake couldn't believe what that woman said about his partner and son. This was the limit, he was grateful for everything they had done, but everything had a limit and Ronal had passed it. So it was decided that when you gave birth, they would go somewhere else. Tonowari insisted that they stay, but jake refused. -"But we could leave now," you say. -"I think it's best to wait for the baby to be born, and for you to be healthy. Then we'll go" Jake looks at Neytiri. She was the one who had the idea, she couldn't stand to be around that woman anymore. -"It's for the best!" says Neytiri.

That same night, jake approached lo'ak. The boy had done a great job, defending his mothers. Jake was proud of how he had acted. Lo'ak was cleaning some fish, as Jake had told him earlier. Jake went over and started to help him. "You know… I'm proud of you. You were very brave out there, thank you for helping" says jake, noticing how lo'ak's little eyes widen with excitement. Lo'ak thinks it's the first time his father has ever told him he was proud of him. After the encounter with the RDA, things between them had mended somewhat, but not for long. And seeing that his father was now trying to get closer to him was pleasing to him. "That's what you should do, sir," says lo'ak, lowering his head. "dad…you can call me dad" jake smiles at lo'ak. " dad" lo'ak speaks, leaning closer to his father.

Neytiri and you were watching everything from afar, both of you shared a few glances. You were happy, that finally their relationship was at a good point.

8 months later…

Your pregnancy went normally, no problems had occurred. Although the atmosphere was a little heavy, nothing happened. You always had someone by your side, and there was always lo'ak behind you. Since that accident, lo'ak never left you alone at any time. And you were also grateful for the company of your child, the pregnancy had been very tiring for you. After long months, liuk was born… a beautiful baby girl. A girl with human appearance, but with na'vi characteristics. Na'vi ears, with a tail and her distinguished Queue. She was also of human size, she was very strange. But precious and unique at the same time. Everyone in the family could not believe what they were seeing, this was very strange.

"Mom…no wonder your belly was so small" says neteyam, looking at her newborn sister. Compared to when you were pregnant with lo'ak your belly was bigger than normal, but with liuk…everything went like a normal pregnancy. -"Yes" your voice sounded tired, the delivery was quite fast, but painful. Neytiri at your side, taking care of you. She had attended your entire delivery, along with Jake. She said she didn't want Ronal's help, she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. On the other hand Jake looked worried, you looked very weak. In a week they were supposed to leave for somewhere else, but on second thought, he doesn't think it's right. He thinks it's not the right thing to do.

Lo'ak was sitting on your right side, holding your hand. Drawing circles on your palm, while his sisters watched and carried the baby. He hadn't been holding her, he was worried about you. It had been a couple of hours, and you still felt very tired. "lo'ak…love why don't you say hello to your little sister" you look at him, laughing a little. You knew he was nervous, telling kiri to hand the baby over to lo'ak. He holds her carefully, - "she is…very small" says lo'ak. You laugh, you were watching your baby holding your new baby. You wanted to die of tenderness. Lo'ak touched the baby's nose, and then her tiny feet. His baby sister was so tiny and adorable. -"She looks just like when lo'ak was a baby, doesn't she," said Jake, moving closer to lo'ak to take a closer look at his daughter. "Yes… they look just like each other," says Neytiri. Jake takes the baby in his arms, to put her on his chest. He was afraid… very afraid to leave.

Leaving this clan was dangerous, very dangerous. And now he felt much more afraid… they had a new member in the family. And one who was very weak, you had to hide and not expose yourselves in this way. He knows what had happened, but you could all come to an agreement. Jake had to talk to you and Neytiri about it. They had a safe home, their children had already adapted and they had a newborn. They had to stay. That same afternoon, without wasting any time, Jake decided to talk to Neytiri and set the record straight. He made her understand that the best thing to do was to stay in the clan. Neytiri did not take this well, she wanted to leave. But she also understood Jake's point, things could get worse. Neytiri apologized to Ronal, and the woman apologized to her. Tonowari and Jake argued and left everything in a good state. After all, nothing had happened between the families, just that misunderstanding. Although neytiri prefers ronal to stay away from her family.

After three months, life seemed to be calmer. Things seemed to be back to normal. There were no arguments and everything was harmonious. You were on the beach, with lo'ak. You were still healing, but you were feeling better. Meanwhile lo'ak was holding his baby sister on his chest in a kangaroo that you and neytiri had made. The baby had grown a little, but still looked human-sized. You had talked to Norm, who told you that in a couple of days he would see the baby. Everything about her was impressive. -"Mom…I think she's heavier," says lo'ak, stroking his baby sister's head. "mmm I think a little…but that much" you were looking for some snails to make something nice for the baby. - "mom look at that over there" lo'ak points to the sand, watching you reach for it. Without noticing ronal's presence.

The woman had approached you, silently. She felt like she owed you an apology. After talking to jake and neytiri. And even with Tonowari…she owes you an apology. It was very wrong of her to say those things about you and your children. She had not taken the task of knowing you, and she only judged you. – “Hello,” she says slowly, seeing how you look at her with surprise. It had been a long time since she last approached you. –“Hello” you speak embarrassed. Lo'ak holds her sister tightly against her chest, protecting her from her. If something happened, he was ready to defend her. –“I come here to apologize…I know that how I have expressed myself towards you, it is not the best way. I hope you forgive me” she says ronal, she still sounded a little smug. But you decide to accept her apology, you wanted to keep the atmosphere as it was at the moment. –“don't worry…everything is fine” you say. You felt so uncomfortable right now.

“Well…take this” Ronal hands you some kind of drink. She looks at you with concern and then you look at her. –“don't worry…it's nothing bad. It will help you heal faster, the recently given birth women of the clan use it” Ronal laughs a little. You accept her gift, and thank her. Ronal says goodbye and continues on his way. Out of nowhere you feel someone take the drink from your hand. “Mom, don't take that…it could be poison,” Lo'ak says, pouting. Caused you to laugh a little. You take a moment to look at the little people in front of you. They were amazing and you had created them. “I love you so much” you touch Lo'ak's face, he laughs a little at you. And he looks at his little sister again. You knew that your children's lives were not going to be easy, but they would always count on your help.

p.s omg, why do I have so much trouble finishing this series, ahh I feel like something is missing!!! ahhhhhh cries in a corner

Tag: @baybaybear1@hoodiepandaninja16@teyyyteyyy@anika-rose-walker@victoria2054@raviolisblog@jessi-dan@neteyams-wh0re@jimfiqs@bitchykittenconnoisseur@chershire23@holynightnacho@danilezilla@thepotatoislost @esposadomd @ratchetprime211 @juneonhoth @rulerzreachf4n44 @mimimroawwww @l3laze @myheartfollower

#avatar the way of water #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar 2022 #female y/n #human reader #human y/n #neteyam imagine #neteyam #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x reader #kiri sully #neytiri #neytiri x human reader #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x reader #neytiri x jake #neytiri x you #jake x reader #jake x neytiri #jake x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n #jake x neytiri x reader #jake x neytiri x human reader #sully family

[unclewaynemunson]

@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

#truly the ultimate idiot4idiot couple #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fruity ficlet

[arieslost]

act up | op81

summary: you and oscar have been skirting around each other for ages. it ends tonight.

word count: 949

warnings: drinking (we’re back in the club!), suggestive comments/moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

oscar couldn’t stop staring at you, and he had no one to blame but himself.

well, himself and the empty shot glass in his hand. he’d lost count of how many times he’d tipped the contents of the glass down his throat, and it’s like that saying— a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. or however it goes. if oscar were to insert himself in that equation now, he’d be the drunk guy.

the drunk guy who wanted to do nothing but stare at the girl sitting on his lap: you. he couldn’t remember how you got there for the life of him, but hell, he wouldn’t be caught dead complaining about it. it felt good to let his inhibitions go and his anxiety with them, even if all he was doing was sitting there with his arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh.

you’re waving down the bartender to pour the two of you another round of shots from where you both sit in a booth, and he uses the liquid courage to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“are you trying to make me act up tonight?” he murmurs in your ear.

you press your lips together, tilting your head towards him so you’re practically cheek to cheek. “maybe. got a problem with that?”

“nope.”

he’s surprised at himself for his lack of filter and complete honesty with you; normally he isn’t even able to look anywhere near you without feeling his face getting hot. the same could be said about you, honestly. the boldest you’ve ever been towards him is giving him a kiss on the cheek when he got a podium finish a month ago, and both of you were bright red afterwards even though you both loved it. it didn’t help that lando had, of course, been there to make fun.

“i’m sick of the two of you. oscar, mate, be a man and kiss her for real.” he’d said, laughing as the two of you somehow turned an even deeper shade of red and looked in opposite directions.

“shut up, lando, for fuck’s sake.” oscar grumbled, punching him in the shoulder a little harder than normal.

“ah,” lando had just laughed harder before setting his sights on you. “if he doesn’t grow a pair it’s gonna have to be you.”

“die,” you told him, not being dramatic about it at all.

“i love you guys too. but not as much as you love each other!” he called before being chased out of the room by oscar’s balaclava and your empty water bottle hurtling towards him.

neither of you could endure lando’s teasing sober, especially not oscar, who spent way more time with him. but here he is, so many shots in that he’s lost count, and you on his lap. he’s going to run with it for as long as possible.

the bartender brings over the shots you ordered, and you pick up both.

“don’t cut me off now, i’m almost drunk enough to ask you to come home with me,” oscar says, lips brushing your neck.

he smiles when he feels you shiver, dragging his hand a little further up your thigh. “save it for when we’re sober,” you giggle as his fingers play with the bottom of your shorts.

“i’m not brave enough to say this stuff to you when i’m sober,” he confesses with a sigh.

“you should be. you know i’ll say yes.” you down a shot, and then hold up the other. “you want this?”

he nods. clearly there’s some magic in the shots that finally allows him to be forward with you.

you lift yourself up, much to his dismay, but he relaxes when you simply turn to face him and straddle his hips. “come and get it, then,” you say with a playful smirk, before tipping back the shot and looking at him expectantly.

you don’t swallow. oscar feels like he’s about to explode. he doesn’t waste any time in leaning forward and firmly pressing his lips to yours, knowing that he would never be daring enough to do this sober, as much as he always wants to. your fingers slide into his hair, carding through the long strands like you’ve done it a thousand times. his hands find purchase on your back, pulling you forward, before they slide down to your hips and squeeze. your mouth opens in surprise, but he’s expecting it and opens his mouth as well, allowing the alcohol to pass from yours to his.

you part from each other for a moment, and oscar barely even registers the harsh burn of the alcohol when he swallows, too intent on kissing you until he can’t breathe.

“oscar,” you moan out against his lips, and fuck, you sound so hot that he can only moan back at you, hands traveling down to your ass and grasping it firmly.

you’re pressed so close to him that he can hear the hitch in your breathing when he does so. he moves his attention to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, wanting to know what places draw out those beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“oscar,” you say again, sounding more insistent, and he reluctantly lets you pull away. “not here.”

you giggle when his eyes light up. “but somewhere else?”

“somewhere else, when we’re sober.”

oscar pouts. “i don’t know if i can do this when i’m sober.”

“then i guess it’s gonna have to be me,” you echo lando’s words from last month with raised brows.

“lando can kiss my ass,” oscar says with a newfound determination. “i will do this when i’m sober.”

you grin. “that’s what I’m hoping for.”

note: the beginning of this was actually written for a fun little passion project of mine and i wanted to turn it into something a bit more. i hope u all enjoyed!

since this is being posted on march 12 it is important for me to say that this is most specially dedicated to @venusacrossthestars. my entire op81 week event is, but three years ago on this day, we met through a discord server, and i am so grateful to still know you today and call you my best friend. i love you bestie <3

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld @nessacarty1 @tswizzleismother @anythingforourmoonsy @meko-mt @solonelystill @tomriddleswhorecruxes @sammykiszkalover @landosgirl

#blurb #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [4]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 3 | Fic Masterlist | Part 5

"Mistress, please allow me to help you back to your quarters." Eunsook pleaded, once again attempting to gently pull you up from the floor. But you shook your head weakly, keeping your forehead stubbornly glued to the ground.

Jongho sighed, stepping in to help, "Miss Jang, it's the general's orders. We've been tasked with taking you back to your room. If you don't cooperate, we might be in trouble."

To the relief of both employees, that seemed to work. They quickly moved to assist your limp and defeated form, with your tear-stained face and the bruise forming on your forehead breaking their hearts. Without wasting another minute, they moved you onto the assistant's back before rushing back to The Cold Palace.

You were already unconscious when they gently laid you on your bed, the toll of your crying apparent. Eunsook sighed, pulling the blankets over your petite frame and tucking you in. She then moved to dab your wet cheeks lightly with the sleeve of her uniform.

Observing you, Jongho frowned, "She feels so light; that doesn't seem normal. It's as if she barely weighs anything. Just what in the world was her life like in the Jang estate?"

The head maid gestured for him to keep quiet, putting a finger to her lips and shaking her head in warning. She didn't want to risk waking you up or, worse, letting you hear them talk about you as if you weren't there right in front of them.

Outside your room, the two took a moment to process the events of the day. It became apparent to them that you were just as much a pawn in your father's game as their master. It was also clear that your sudden presence was set to shake the very foundation of everything they had ever known in the general's estate.

"Let's just... take a break for the night and see what happens tomorrow." Eunsook mumbled, massaging her temples to alleviate the approaching headache.

Jongho agreed, "At least we've learned that our master isn't completely heartless." They exchanged knowing smiles before retiring to their respective quarters for the night.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the estate, Seonghwa stayed awake until he was sure that his assistant and head maid had carried out their assigned task. Laying in his bed, he forced himself to sleep, but the haunting image of you sobbing and kneeling on the ground plagued his thoughts incessantly.

He tells himself that perhaps he should have begun eating a bit first during dinner; that would've allowed you to have more energy during the extended hours of kneeling. Your reaction to the food lingers in his thoughts. In retrospect, he acknowledges that instructing the servants to discard all the food while you were hungry might have been a bit much; he realises that now.

Tomorrow, I'll allow her breakfast.

Tossing and turning throughout the night, the general found no reprieve until the early hours of the day. Even when he did manage to drift off to sleep, his dreams were filled with recurring scenes of the heart-wrenching dinner. His guilt and remorse persisted even in his unconscious state.

As the morning arrived, the voice of the head maid echoed from the entrance of your room, waking you from your sleep, "Good morning, mistress! May we please enter? We will be fixing you a bath and helping you get dressed for the day."

"N-no! I don't need help getting ready!"

You gasped, a sense of panic seizing you as you tried to move towards the mirror to inspect your reflection. The prospect of them assisting you with bathing and dressing meant they would inevitably see the bruises and scars littered across your body. The risk of being ousted on your second day loomed over you, and that was something you couldn't allow.

Your legs betrayed you and gave out, succumbing to weakness due to prolonged hunger. You crawled the remaining distance to the worn-out mirror in your room, suppressing a sob as you covered your mouth upon seeing your bare, unadorned self. The tears from the previous night had washed away your makeup, unveiling the stark reality of your appearance.

"Mistress, please. We've brought a new set of clothes for you, along with the freshest rose petals for your bath. It will be relaxing and enjoyable, we assure you!"

The kindness in Eunsook's voice intensified your emotional turmoil. As you stared at your hideous reflection, you realised you didn't deserve such luxury. You weren't the beautiful and elegant first daughter promised to Seonghwa; you felt like a fraud. How naive could you have been to believe you stood a chance of becoming the wife of the renowned General Park?

You weren't good enough; you'll never be.

"No, I don't want anything! J-just leave me alone, please..." You cried, pulling your knees into your chest and hugging them close. Despite the continuous persuasion from the elderly woman, you ignored her and remained curled up in the corner.

"Mistress... please," Eunsook gave up with a sigh, shaking her head at the servants behind her, "Take it away for now." They obeyed and dispersed with the clothes and bath supplies they had prepared. She knew there was nothing she could do if you refused to grant her permission to enter.

As the footsteps of the departing servants faded away, you released a sigh of relief. Your gaze remained fixed on the marks on your skin, cruel reminders of the abuse inflicted by your father, scars that seemed destined never to fade. So long as you have these on your body, you will never know what happiness is.

A bitter, humourless chuckle escaped your lips as you contemplated the fading hope for happiness. The general's response to your heartfelt words served as undeniable proof that, no matter how sincere your efforts, he would never accept you. The burden of the Jang surname seemed to ensure that you would never be given a fair chance, regardless of how hard you try.

While you wallowed in self-pity, Seonghwa was on the opposite side of the estate, reluctantly getting dressed for the day. His sleep had been far from restful, leaving him in a sour mood.

"So... how is she doing?" He asked in a detached tone, staring out of his window to avoid meeting his assistant's eyes.

Jongho arched an eyebrow at the question, suppressing a knowing smile as he observed his master's attempt to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "Are you referring to Miss Jang, sir?"

The general clicked his tongue in irritation, "Who else would I be asking about?"

His aide nodded, "Right, how silly of me. Well, it seemed like she was sleeping quite well when we returned her to her quarters. I haven't checked on her since then, but Eunsook has organised a group of servants to assist her with a bath and preparations for the day."

Seonghwa hummed in approval, doing his best to mask any sense of satisfaction, "Very well. She better be punctual for breakfast then, we shall see how she plans to prove her innocence."

Despite his insistence on you being suspicious, Jongho could discern that there was no malice in his master's words. Perhaps there was hope that things could work out between the two of you after all. It seemed like the general was already letting his guard down, even if only slightly; the assistant could see it.

Or not.

"Where the hell is she?"

Seonghwa frowned, growing impatient as he had been waiting for some time, and you were nowhere to be seen in the dining hall.

Breakfast had already been served, and he even had the servants prepare slightly more than usual, anticipating your need for extra food since you hadn't eaten dinner the previous night.

Just as he asked the question, Jongho pointed at the head maid rushing towards the dining hall, strangely without you in sight, "There, Eunsook's coming."

The elderly woman bowed upon reaching the dining hall, catching her breath before addressing the general, "Good morning, master."

He waved off the greeting, "What's going on? Where's Miss Jang? Were you not getting her ready?"

She appeared to hesitate in her response, stammering, "W-well, I was trying to, but—"

"But what?" Seonghwa pressed, annoyance evident in his tone. Sensing her master's foul mood, Eunsook knew she had no choice but to tell the truth.

Jongho nodded encouragingly at his colleague, not wanting her to get in trouble. The head maid lowered her head in defeat, "I arranged for her bath and everything first thing in the morning, and we've been stuck outside her quarters for nearly an hour. Master, she refuses to let us in. It seems she doesn't wish to be bathed or changed."

The general and his assistant found themselves baffled by the revelation. Your new husband struggled to comprehend why anyone would be foolish enough to refuse a pleasant bath and a fresh change of clothes. But he was becoming less surprised after witnessing your odd behaviour the day before. By now, he had accepted the fact that you were far from normal.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he pressed a hand against his head, "Just... if she doesn't want to be bathed that badly, leave it. Just tell her to come out and eat," He muttered, recalling your longing gaze fixed on the dishes during dinner, "Go, get her now."

"Yes, master." Eunsook bowed before heading back to you. She hoped that this time, you would finally show yourself. Her concern grew as she remembered hearing the anguish in your voice when you asked to be left alone just earlier.

To be sure, she checked with the nearby servants if you had called for anyone or even emerged from your room while she was away, only to sigh in disappointment when they shook their heads.

She raised her hand to knock gently, "Mistress, I've come to inform you that breakfast is ready. The master is waiting for you. He wants you to know it's alright if you prefer not to be bathed or changed, but please, come and eat."

Instead of providing comfort, that only heightened your anxiety. Was the general summoning you to further interrogate you? It seemed likely. If he were to see you in this state, he might resort to beating you to death in an instant. Surely, being wedded to someone like you would be an insult to the great General Park.

As appealing as the idea of breakfast was, you feared you might not get to eat, similar to the previous night. Especially not with your current appearance. You winced, feeling the ache in your stomach from going without food for so long.

Perhaps this is how you'll meet your end.

"Mistress, wouldn't you like to have some breakfast?" Eunsook made another attempt, her concern deepening as she noticed your silhouette huddled in pain in a corner.

You shook your head, holding onto your stomach, "No... I-I don't want anything! Just... just go away, please..."

Seonghwa's impatience reached new heights as he waited, and it only intensified when he saw the head maid returning once again, without you by her side. He narrowed his eyes, feeling stupid for trying to be considerate towards you this morning. Here you were, revealing your true colours by being an ungrateful brat already.

His anger finally erupted when the elderly woman bowed deeply with a regretful grimace, "I'm sorry, master. Miss Jang refuses to leave her room."

The general slammed his fists against the table, scaring both Jongho and Eunsook as he pushed himself off his seat, seething, "That's it. If it's my attention she wants, then she's about to get it."

In a panic, the two employees chased after their furious master, making pitiful attempts to calm him down, "Master, please, perhaps she is still emotionally recovering from what happened last night!" But no amount of words could extinguish the fire in Seonghwa's eyes as he stormed towards The Cold Palace.

Truth be told, the assistant and head maid had never seen the general so worked up over any of his fiancées before. In fact, he barely paid them any attention, and they would all flee the estate in less than a day. Had it been any other woman, he probably wouldn't have cared if she came to breakfast or not; he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash if she died in her room.

But he was oddly affected by your absence.

"Get out of my goddamned way!" He roared, pushing through the servants working around the garden paths that led to your quarters. They scrambled to their knees, bowing their heads low to avoid angering him further.

Jongho and Eunsook shot apologetic looks as they hurried past the poor servants who were just trying to do their jobs. But they had no time to worry about their colleagues when they saw Seonghwa closing in on your room. They scurried over to hold him back, trying to prevent him from scaring you any more than he already had.

"Master, please—"

Before they could intervene, the general forcefully slammed the flimsy doors of your room open, causing one of them to break off its hinges. Your cowering form was immediately revealed, but your new husband was too furious to show any sympathy.

"Are you angry because I didn't give you the wedding night you desired? If you want it that badly, I'll give it to you right now." Without allowing you to respond, he yanked your arms away from your body and tore the outer layer of your hanbok open, exposing your innerwear and shoulders completely.

"N-no, please!"

In just a split second, all of his fury vanished.

The sight of the numerous marks covering your skin, along with the newly revealed ones on your face, left Seonghwa frozen in place. He couldn't move as he observed the bruises and scars scattered all over you, and these were only the ones visible. He dreaded to think about what might be hidden beneath the rest of your body.

What the actual f—

Having tortured more than enough prisoners as part of his job, he was able to distinguish between old and fresh wounds. Judging from all the ones on you, he was repulsed to realise that you had a bit of everything – your injuries ranged from years to a few months old. This meant that you had been enduring abuse for a really long time.

A series of horrified gasps escaped Jongho and Eunsook as soon as they entered the room and witnessed the condition of your skin. You let out a heart-wrenching sob, making a feeble attempt to cover yourself again, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." You whimpered, despite being violated.

It's over. My life... is over.

Feeling lightheaded from all the crying and prolonged starvation, your vision darkened, your eyes gradually fluttered shut, and you slumped forward. The general acted swiftly, catching you and, for once, displaying gentleness as he nestled your head into the crook of his neck, holding your fragile form close.

"Hand me the blanket." He instructed. The head maid hurried over with the fabric, witnessing her master wrapping you in it.

Rising with you in his arms, he moved toward his private quarters with a newfound determination, "Jongho, go summon Physician Jung." The assistant bowed and hastily departed to fulfil his orders.

Entering his room, he laid you on his bed and carefully covered you with the sheets. Examining you more closely now, he became aware of your true frailty. Carrying you earlier, he noticed how remarkably light you were, like a feather. He clenched his fists in rage as he took in the horrendous marks that marred your skin. The new bruise forming on your forehead from the night before only made him feel worse.

Letting out a sigh, he tenderly wiped away the tears staining your cheeks, "What in the world happened to you? Who did this to you? Who dare lay their hands on you, hm?" He whispered, his heart tightening with more guilt than the previous night.

Eunsook stood in the corner, witnessing the scene unfold before her eyes with mixed emotions. While she was pleased to finally see her master display genuine care and affection towards you, it saddened her to realise the extent of the hardships you had to go through to evoke this response from him.

At the same time, her heart ached even more at the sight of the visible evidence of what you had been trying to conceal from everyone. It now made sense why you resisted a bath; you must have been terrified of anyone seeing the marks on your body. The thought of the horrors you endured in the Jang estate sent a shudder down her spine.

"Sir, Physician Jung has arrived," Jongho announced at the entrance, awaiting permission to enter. Seonghwa nodded tersely, "Let him in." The general rose from his seat to greet the physician, a familiar face who had become somewhat of a family doctor.

"Good afternoon, General Park. Are you feeling unwell—" The physician's words halted as soon as his eyes landed on the frail figure lying on the bed.

"It's not me this time, Yunho. It's... my wife."

« Preview of Part 5 »

"Jongho," The general called out softly, his eyes staying fixed on your unconscious form. Despite the softness in his tone, he was anything but calm on the inside. His aide stepped forward, "Sir?"

Finally shifting his gaze from you, he turned to his assistant, dead serious, "I'm going to need you to dig deeper this time. Hire a private investigator if necessary. Find someone willing to infiltrate the minister's estate and get someone to talk. Pay them as much as they need. Just find out what the hell happened while she was in there."

Deep down, he had a gut feeling about who might be responsible for all this, but he needed to know what exactly was done to you and why. He needed confirmation, and most importantly, evidence.

"General Park, I eagerly anticipate our forthcoming union. I assure you, my eldest is a gem; you'll come to adore her."

Recalling the smugness in Minister Jang's tone as he uttered those words, everything began to click. The puzzle pieces were coming together. The narrative of you being an accomplice for whatever your father had planned against him was finally being discarded; it was clear to him now that you were as much a victim as he was, except you'd had it much worse.

"Leave it to me, sir. I'll do everything to find out what happened to Miss Jang." The assistant said with determination, bowing.

Before he could leave, Seonghwa added, "Mistress. It's mistress to you all now. From today onwards, she's the official wife of General Park. I don't want to hear anyone calling her by that ridiculous surname ever again, understand?"

Jongho and Eunsook couldn't hide their smiles as they bowed rather enthusiastically, "Yes, master!"

Umm, surprise? HAHA I know I said I was sick, and I still am, but I'm feeling slightly better and gosh, not even the cold can keep me away from working on this! All your kind replies and messages got me so hyped, I had to finish this asap🤭

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[skzdarlings]

bodyguard: the first guard | part two | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

part one | part two | part three | tba

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh's daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture, death. chapter word count: 12,000 words.

-

B E F O R E

Felix is wearing itchy civilian clothes, the jeans distractingly stiff.  Regardless of how many field missions he is assigned, he never gets used to undercover disguises.     

“Look what I found,” Chris says, dropping into the seat beside him. 

Chris looks marginally more at ease in his baggy basketball shorts and baseball cap, passing for a teenage boy on an afternoon train with his friend.  They are in the passenger car outside the first class cabin, a compartment that should contain their mark but presently sits empty. 

“Uh, the target?" Felix asks.  “You know, the thing you just went to find?”

Chris giggles like the whole situation is funny.  Felix is far less amused.  This should have been an easy job: get in, kill the mark, steal back the data he took from Miroh, and get out.  But so far it has been tedious. 

Felix can’t even blame Chris this time.  For some reason, Chris has been more accommodating lately.  Chris is fifteen, almost sixteen, and Felix is twelve.  They have both been active in the field for a couple years. Felix is not sure why Chris has opted for sudden compliance.  He does not necessarily volunteer for jobs but he accepts them without much grudging reluctance.  He will occasionally voice his worser grievances but for the most part he is keeping his head down. 

Maybe it is the result of all those punishing sentences in the Cell.  More than once he has been shoved down there, sometimes alone and sometimes with Miroh’s daughter.  Felix would not want to spend any isolated time with her.  But maybe she is intimidating enough to get through to Chris.

Whatever it is, it is working.  Excluding moments like this when Chris is giggling and distracted and doesn’t seem to care about the job at all. 

“Relax, Felix,” Chris says.  “It’s a train.  There’s only so many places he can be, yeah?”

“Well, there’s one place he’s supposed to be but he isn’t there, is he?” Felix says.

“Lighten up, mate,” Chris says.  “We’re supposed to look normal.  Normal kids have fun.”

Chris dumps a candy bag in Felix’s lap.  Felix looks at it like it’s a bomb.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Felix asks.

Chris opens his own bag and starts eating the candy. 

“That,” he says.  He tosses a piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. When he tries to do it again, Felix snatches it mid-air and throws it on the floor.  This makes Chris laugh.

“He was in the dining car,” Chris relents.  “Four security officers.  Ex-military.  Piece of cake.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Felix asks, annoyed.  He starts to stand but Chris yanks him back into his seat. 

“The hell, man?” Chris says.  “You gonna go ventilate the guy while a bunch of civilians are having afternoon tea?  Ya think that might blow our cover?  Just a bit?” 

Felix frowns but he knows Chris is right.  Miroh does not like a public mess.  They will have to wait until the mark returns to the privacy of his cabin.

Felix does not like waiting.  It is a part of a soldier’s training, but his least favourite part by far.  He prefers action.  With the quiet stillness comes fear, doubt.

The latter makes him sweat.  He tries not to think about it.  His life is his mission.  Through Miroh, Felix has contributed good things to the world.  Lately, it just seems like no matter what he does, the world does not stay good. 

The Enemy has been dead for two years.  The new enemy, his idiot heir, has holed up like a dragon guarding his hoard.  He has built defences so high that not even an army like Miroh’s can breach it.  There has been no retaliation, no offensive strike like the old enemy, but these deep roots are almost more sinister.  Felix is starting to think this might be hopeless.  That maybe Miroh is wrong.  That maybe some things cannot be saved. 

Felix crinkles the candy bag in his lap.  He gathers himself and exhales. 

“Fine,” he says.  “How long do you think he will be distracted?  Enough time to get the data?”

“If it’s in there, yeah,” Chris says.  “Might as well check.  He just started eating so we should have some time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”  

Chris frowns like Felix is inconveniencing him with the job they were sent here to do.  

Felix is not in the mood to argue.  He shoves his candy bag in his back pocket and pushes past Chris.  They make their way down the aisle.  No one lifts their head, the two boys disappearing in their inconspicuous disguises.

They pick the lock to the first class cabin.  Felix opens the door and looks around the room, for a moment a little stupefied by the luxury.  It is all deep mahogany and gold trim.  Their target is an engineer who stole designs from Miroh to sell to the enemy.  The wealth of this cabin exemplifies that corruption, surely. 

Felix tells himself that as he rifles through the luggage.  He finds a laptop and tells Chris to stand guard while he collects the data.  Chris is the better fighter but Felix is better with technology.

The laptop loads.  The home screen is the mark with his family, three smiling, sunny-faced children, all younger than Felix.  It gives him a queasy, uneasy feeling, a feeling that should be long scrubbed out of him by now.

He blames it on the rocking of the train carriage.  Physical sensations can manipulate mental energy. 

He searches through the computer storage for the stolen designs.  Both Miroh and the enemy are chasing government building contracts, tying their businesses irrevocably to political power and pursing relationships therein.  These plans will cinch the deal for whichever party has them.  The engineer who betrayed Miroh masqueraded as a potential recruit before stealing the plans.

There is only one problem; Felix knows how to read metadata and he cannot find anything that was once on Miroh’s servers.  In fact, some of these designs go back years, well before Miroh even considered pursuing these contracts.

“What’s taking so long?” Chris asks, poking his head in the room.  “You’re usually a computer whiz.  Is something wrong?”

“The files aren’t here,” Felix says.  For the fifth or sixth time, he opens what looks like the plans.  Everything except the metadata matches the description.  But that metadata does not lie.      

These files do not belong to Miroh. 

Chris double checks the corridor before joining Felix.  They look at the files together. 

“Isn’t that it?” Chris asks.  “It looks like the right thing.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not,” Felix says, his eyes darting frantically all over the screen.  “Or it should be.  But these, uh, these files aren’t Miroh’s.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this guy stole the plans from Miroh.  But all these files are original.  They were never on Miroh’s servers.”

There is a moment of quiet.  Chris is not famous for reservation so Felix looks at him.  He is embarrassed to find a pitying look on Chris’s face. 

“Felix,” Chris says.  “Come on, man.”

It is not exactly a condescending tone, rife with too much sympathy to be so cruel, but It sounds like Chris is saying, don’t be stupid.

Felix swallows.  He looks down at the plans.  The realization hits him and the words come to his mouth, rising like bile.

“We’re not stealing back the plans,” Felix says.  “We’re just stealing them.  Aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” Chris says.  “You didn’t know that?”

“How did you know that?” Felix snaps back, embarrassed and upset and very, deeply confused.   

“It wasn’t exactly a stretch,” Chris says.  “It’s what Miroh does.  It’s what they all do.  You haven’t figured that out yet?  You?” 

Felix, who has done the most assignments.  Felix, who is the most successful agent in the special-ops program.  Felix, who is the best only because the real best refuses to be.

He studies Chris, this older boy who seems so confident he has all the answers.  Felix does not even know all the questions.  He feels that weakness and vulnerability he so hates, the entirely world suddenly unfamiliar enemy terrain. 

“Look, it’s fine,” Chris says.  “Just take the data and we’ll leave.  We’ll tell Miroh the mark got away.  He cares more about the plans anyway.”

“Lie,” Felix says.  “You want us to lie to Miroh?”

“It’s not a lie,” Chris says.  “It’s just protecting the truth.”

Felix stares at him.  Chris, on steadier feet than Felix, sighs and pushes Felix out of the way.  He loads the data onto the external hard drive himself.  He then makes a show of ejecting it and putting it in his pocket.

“Let’s go,” Chris says.

Felix does not get a chance to protest because the door opens.  They have no time to react.  In seconds, they are joined by the mark’s security team. 

Felix knows how to fight.  It is second nature to him.  He should not need to think.

But he does.  He overthinks.  He gets a look at the mark before a bodyguard whisks him away.  Felix thinks of the smiling faces on those children.  He thinks how he is not much older than them.

There is a growing pit of anxiety inside him.  It swallows him whole.

Felix and Chris fight to get away.  Chris could take all these guards on his own but he is trying to avoid severely hurting them.  That distracts Felix too.  Suddenly, Chris’s refusal to fight does not seem like cowardice but instead it is something Felix cannot name. Something he once saw in Miroh but doesn’t anymore. 

Distracted, Felix does not fight like he usually does. 

The first class cabin is a private attachment at the back of the train.  The fight lead onto the outside landing at the end of the car.  A guard dislocates Felix’s shoulder.  The next thing Felix knows, he is tumbling over the railing.  He manages to grip with his good arm, holding all of his body weight to avoid getting snagged and ripped along the train tracks. 

But it won’t save him.  He’s going to die. The realization hits him like any other calculation in a fight, when he measures his odds and deduces his best move.

He has none.  The train is moving too fast and he is at a bad angle to jump.  He has one good arm keeping him alive and no way to fight the approaching guard.  Chris has taken out his own adversaries and should be retreating with the data.  That is what they are trained to do.  The job is more important than the soldier.  In a crisis, you leave the weak behind. 

Felix braces himself to let go, hoping the above-average strength in his body can also withstand slamming into railroad tracks at high speeds.  He suspects even if he does survive, he will be severely injured, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and dead to the only place he has ever known.

But the guard falls back. Chris knocks him out with sharp efficiency.  He then lays the unconscious man down with almost comical gentleness.

Chris runs up to Felix.  Felix wants to shout at him – everything from go away and finish the job to my shoulder hurts and I need you to save me. 

Chris gives no opportunity for argument or acquiescence.  He shouts, “Hold on!”  Then he swings himself over the railing.  He wraps an arm around Felix and hauls him into his side.  Once secure, he carries them back over the rail and onto the landing. 

“What are you doing?” Felix asks.  He cannot slow the race of his heart, seemingly tethered to the thunder of the train car against the tracks.  He is not sure it will ever slow again.  He thinks he might remember this moment forever.

“What am I doing?” Chris asks.  He laughs for some forsaken reason.  “Just doing this, mate,” he says.

He seizes Felix by his injured shoulder.  Felix winces, having only seconds to brace himself before Chris shoves his dislocated shoulder back into place.   Agony washes over Felix, hot and sharp, the pain rattling him worse than the actual dislocation.

“Sorry,” Chris says.  “Sometimes getting better hurts more for a bit.”

The rest of the mission is a blur to Felix, lost to the throbbing ache in his shoulder and a similar pain taking root inside him.

They make it back to Miroh’s facility.  Chris hands the hard drive off to an upper level agent while Felix sees a medic.  The bag of candy is still in his back pocket.  He sits in the infirmary a long time, just crinkling it between his fingers.  He feels like his world is crashing around him. 

It is days before Felix has an opportunity to see Chris again.  They are in different barracks because of their age difference, the soldiers grouped by year.  When Felix finds Chris in the corridor, Chris is talking to Miroh’s daughter who lives in the barracks too.  They are on their way to their bunks. 

Felix taps Chris on the shoulder.  Chris looks at him, his laughing expression faltering when he sees Felix.  He must see something in him that Felix cannot even recognize in himself. 

Chris turns to Miroh’s daughter and says, “I’ll catch up, yeah?”

She spares Felix a glance and Felix feels an unusually panicked skip in his blood.  It feels like she can see his mental turbulation the way Chris can.  But unlike the rest of them, she has a direct line to Miroh.  She might live and act like a soldier but she is more and always will be.  Felix balks under her scrutiny, worried she will see his doubt and report it right back to Miroh.

Felix is grateful when she leaves.  But when Chris looks at him so expectantly, Felix no longer knows what to say. 

It takes a moment.

“I wouldn’t have done the same for you,” Felix finally says.  It comes out as instinctively as a punch.  “I wouldn’t have saved your life.  I would have just finished the job.”

Chris blinks at him.  He exhales on a laugh.  Then he claps Felix’s good shoulder, a touch of clear camaraderie. 

“I know, Felix,” he says.  “I didn’t do it so you would pay me back.  I didn’t do it because I thought you would do the same.  I did it because it was the right thing to do.” 

Felix thought he was speechless before but now he is truly at a loss.  Even his long engrained instincts fail.  He is out of punches. 

Chris just smiles at his confusion.  With one final nod, he turns and retreats to his bunk. 

Felix stands in the corridor, wounded but bandaged.  He stares at the place where Chris stood, like if he looks long enough then Felix will understand what Chris understands.  That maybe there is a right and wrong outside of what they have been taught.  Maybe things exist outside of this place. 

Maybe some things can be saved. 

-

P R E S E N T   D A Y

“Ah, it’s the classic story,” Changbin says with a sigh.  “A boy and a girl, forced to share a bed.  He is her bodyguard.  She is an heiress.  Should we kiss on the lips?”

You whack him in the gut with a pillow and he erupts with giggles.

Changbin has been your so-called bodyguard for a few weeks now.  It has changed little in your daily routine as your father had assigned Changbin to your department sometime before that.  The special-ops program was written off as an experiment with potential for future development, though that development has long sat arrested.  Bang Chan is in your father’s direct employ while Changbin has been on different teams fulfilling different missions.  When you started taking the lead on projects, he served under your direction. 

It is why your father is not happy.  The bodyguard arrangement was meant to assert his control over you, using an agent as his eyes and hands.  Miroh is not good at relinquishing power, not even to someone like him, or maybe especially to someone like him.  You have always been a good, loyal, obedient soldier and daughter.  Taking over projects and assuming command was inevitable.  Somehow you have wronged him by doing everything right. 

Lately, your work has been meagre clean-up duty.  Miroh has been accruing assets and terrorizing his way into the mess left behind by his late enemy.   It is making Miroh’s paranoia even worse.   He has seen for himself how this powerful house fell apart just because its patriarch died.  The business was left in shambles, underlings squabbling like helpless children.  It was ripe for picking. 

You have been cleaning whatever mess is left behind.  This week you have been cleaning out some old office buildings, primarily sifting through abandoned storage for anything useful that might have been sequestered.  You are spending the night at a nearby safe house, sharing a room with Changbin.  The rest of your team is scattered around the house. 

Seeing as your father has relegated you with menial tasks, you have taken it upon yourself to conduct your own investigations.  Your findings have been on your mind all day.  It is why you do not respond to Changbin’s joking with your usual wit. 

“You’re quiet, murder princess,” Changbin says.  “Should I be worried?”

He drops his mask on the nearby desk then unholsters his gun.   He places it beside yours.  It is a testament to your dynamic that you feel comfortable disarming around each other.  You would certainly never do it around your father.  But Changbin is different.   You are not someone who seeks true friendship but you acknowledge the necessity of teamwork especially in times of crisis.  You do not fully trust Changbin as you do not fully trust anyone, but he is loyal and you reciprocate that dependability.

It is why you beckon him forward.  You are sitting on the bed, feet on the floor.  Changbin pulls up a chair to sit in front of you. 

“The enemy had a multi-level security system,” you say.  “Physical in some capacities, digital in others.  My father has always been more preoccupied with offense than defense, so in that regard they were always a step ahead of us.  That is the part my father is interested in.  That is all he sees.” 

“And what do you see?”  Changbin asks.  His disposition changes with the severity of your words, joviality replaced with equal seriousness. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.  “That’s the problem.”

He lifts an eyebrow, curious.  You show him the image on your tablet, then swipe to the next one. 

“The security log is missing information,” you say.  “There is no trace of anything unusual transpiring the day they were all killed.  No breach, no shutdown.  Everything is normal until everything is gone. Someone scrubbed every last second of data from the digital system.  Someone who knew the system well enough to not just delete the surface files but to clean the server entirely.” 

“So what are you saying?” Changbin asks.  “You think it was an inside job?”

“I know it wasn’t us,” you reply.  “I know it wasn’t any of the usual players.  This family had enemies in every market.  If it was one of them, you’d think they would have stepped forward to assert themselves by now.  Whoever it was had no interest in taking over company assets.  No interest in even sticking around.  Someone went to great lengths to make the entire thing look ambiguous, to leave everyone asking more questions, to turn our heads in one direction while they disappear in the other.  Someone professional.  Someone technologically capable.  Someone whose only motivation was escape.” 

His jaw is clenched as he stares at the images, but you can see the gears turning in his mind.  When he meets your gaze, you sit forward.

“Changbin,” you say.  “What happened on that mission?”

He does not need specification.  Changbin is usually like you, pragmatic and realistic.  He does not dwell in his emotions and never for so long.  It has been well over a month now but he is still rankled by that warehouse confrontation with Lee Felix. 

“Ah, Yongbok,” Changbin says wistfully.  His eyes are downturned but his thoughts are somewhere else.  “You remember him.  He always needed a fairy tale to believe in.”    

That much is true.  You and Changbin have always been simple soldiers manoeuvring through the morally complicated world around you.  You never had any delusions that Miroh was better than his enemies, simply that one or the other was inevitable.  You knew you could make a bigger impact in the fight than watching from the sidelines. 

Felix was competent but naïve.  He believed in Miroh unequivocally which is why he blind-sided them all with his betrayal.  To this day, you do not know why he joined the enemy, nor why he stayed. 

It makes sense he might have naively devoted himself to a different cause. 

“What fairy tale was that?” you ask.  “The enemy?”

“Chris.”  Changbin looks at you beneath the sweep of his dark bangs.  His smile is wry.  “He asked me about Chris.” 

You blink back at him, surprised by the answer.  After stumbling over any number of replies, you say, “That wasn’t in your initial report.”

“It didn’t seem important,” Changbin says with a shrug.   

“You have a responsibility to report back everything—”

“Yes, commander,” he says dryly.  He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms.  “Does it matter now?  I told him Chris was dead.”

Not a lie, in a way.  Bang Chan was a rebellious subject in his youth, nothing like the merciless soldier he is now.  The inhuman machine was wrought through inhumane treatment.   You were not privy to the grittier details nor have you ever felt an inclination to investigate.  You do not need knowledge of the gruesome torture that was administered.   The results are the same: the rebellious boy died.  He has been gone ever since he was dragged into a basement room for correction. 

“Chris,” you say.  The name sits heavy on your tongue.  “Why would he want to know about Chris?”

“The better question is, why didn’t he want to know about me?” Changbin retorts.  It sounds like a joke, his tone jumping back into comically exaggerated hysterics.  But there is a tension in his shoulders that was not there before.  “You know he didn’t even recognize me?  Ah!  The little brat!  I knew him too!  I wasn’t Bang Chan, no one was … But I was there.  Forgetting me… We’re all that’s left!” 

You tilt your head and study Changbin, as if there are more answers in his face than in his words.  Your gaze drifts to the scar by his eye.   He got hit today, taking a swipe meant for you.  Other adversaries have sent agents to scour the late enemy’s business remains, but they are no match for soldiers of Miroh.  

Changbin joked he was being a good bodyguard.  In truth, he is a good bodyguard.  Your security team is competent but nothing compared to him.  It has made a difference, having someone so reliable at your back, even though it has painted a target on his.  Your father is not happy Changbin outsmarted him.  Changbin jokes about it, as he is wont to do, claiming he can’t wait for a pummelling of his own.  He is probably right.  Miroh has been quiet about the bodyguard assignment but that does not mean he has surrendered.  He is a strategist.  He is patient if it means results. 

Raising children into soldiers is a testament to that patience.  You look at Changbin, arguably the last true survivor other than yourself.

We’re all that’s left.  

You find yourself reaching for him.  It is not like you, but lately everything seems out of character.  You touch his face, drawn to that scar, a scar that should be yours.  You touch it very lightly. 

When you meet his eyes, he is looking at you strangely.  You are not a famously affectionate character, not even with him.  You rip your hand back and shake your head. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, more curious than accusatory. 

“Nothing,” you say.  “I mean – well.”  You scrub a hand over your face.  The weeks have healed the worst of your injuries, but it is still littered with scars, including the ones Changbin gave you. 

His eyes linger there before he sighs and drops his head.  He rubs his face too. 

“We’ll talk later,” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of today, not to mention the accumulative exhaustion of the days before.  “It’s been a long day.”  An understatement.   

Changbin doesn’t argue.  You separate to use the facilities and dress down for rest.  You sleep in sweatpants and a t-shirt, your weapons and shoes not far.  The one bed has plenty of space.  You lay down first, certain that your mind is running too fast to rest, but all that exhaustion catches up to you. 

You wake some time in the middle of the night.  When Changbin gets out of bed, the dip and rise of the mattress stirs you.  You blink awake, watching him amble over to the window.  There is a cushioned seat and he plops down, his arms crossed and his eyes on the stars.

You wonder if you look that young out of combat clothes.  His hair is ruffled and the black t-shirt and pants are comfortably fitted.  His face looks vulnerable and open as he stares into the night. 

“You’re awake too,” he says, not looking at you. 

“Obviously,” you reply.  You push yourself upright.  “You woke me.”

“Sorry,” he says, trying to flash you one of his jovial grins but barely managing. 

“You look tired,” you say. 

“Thanks,” he replies with a laugh. 

“You should go back to sleep.”

“I’m on bodyguard duty,” he jokes, gesturing to you.  “I need to make sure no one murders the murder princess.” 

You give him a dry look that makes him giggle.  Naturally his humour returns at your expense.  He really is the little brother you never had. 

You slide off the bed and join him at the window seat.  You shove and kick like bickering children until you are comfortably settled.  You sit with your legs curled up to your chest, mirror images of each other.  He looks out the window and you look at him. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.   

“Nothing,” he says, an automatic response.  Then he shakes his head and sighs.  “I don’t know, princess,” he says.  “I don’t think you’ll understand.” 

“What makes you say that?” You cannot help but feel offended even if he is probably right.  You do not have heart-to-hearts, which is what this feels like, a quiet moment carved out of chaos.  If everything was different, you would just be two friends talking about your normal lives. 

Your life is anything but normal. 

“I know you,” he answers, simple and confident.  “I know who you are.  Even when – well, no matter what happens, I guess.”

“Well,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “that makes one of us.” 

You swallow your thoughts quickly.  Your innermost turmoil cannot be entrusted with anyone.  It is dangerous to even think such weakness, never mind vocalize it.

Changbin looks at you with a pinch in his brow.  You look away, up at the sky.  You wonder about the vantage from the stars, seeing the bigger picture of your life.  Your pain and sacrifices have to be worth something.  Miroh always said the world was full of shadows, dark spots no regular person could clean.  He was right about that.  He is definitely one of them, but sometimes only darkness can fight darkness.  Or so you thought.  All this business with the enemy has changed things.  That darkness collapsed in on itself like a black hole, taking everything with it. 

“It used to be easier, didn’t it?”  Changbin asks.  “Just doing what you’re told… You can tell yourself it’s not your fault, that it would have happened anyway… Maybe I was believing in fairy tales too.” 

You look at each other.  He just sighs. 

“A part of me feels like I never grew up,” he says.  “I’ve always been what I am.  Maybe it’s time to stop.” 

“That sounds a lot like treason,” you say, realizing how dramatic it sounds after the fact. Miroh is a businessman and this company is not a country.  And yet treasonous is what it feels like, a deep betrayal to the place that raised and shaped you into what you are.  It feels like treachery to even think about abandoning it after everything. 

“Maybe it does,” he says.  He gives you another wry smile, flicking his bangs out of his face.  “Does it matter?  He already wants my beautiful head off its beautiful shoulders.”

“You shouldn’t be saying this to me,” you say.  You’re Miroh’s daughter.  Your relationship with your father might be fraught, but your loyalty is to this house and always has been.  It is the only constant in this tumultuous, violent world. 

“Are you gonna tell on me?” Changbin teases, so unserious on such a deathly serious matter.  He just laughs at your silent but intense stare.  He shakes his head as he looks out the window.  “I don’t worry about that.”

“About what?”

“You telling on me.”

That stops your heart faster than the treason. 

“Why not?” you ask slowly, as if you are wary of a trap about to spring. 

Changbin puts a hand in his hair, shaking out his ruffled bangs.  He looks normal but also not, his strong body so clearly built for violence.    It is why you are shocked when he reaches out, when he touches you like you touched him, an undemanding press of his fingers along a scar.  

Your startled eyes find his.  It splits your focus.  You see Changbin right now, older, stronger.  You also see him younger, thinner, looking at you with concerned eyes as he wipes blood off your brow. 

You blink again and it is just him as he is now. 

He drops his hand. 

“You don’t trust anyone,” he says.  “I know.  Ha!  I really know.”  He swings around, planting his feet on the ground.  He reaches into his pocket then flicks open a pocketknife.

It should make your heart palpitate, a soldier with a weapon in your proximity, especially when you are unarmed.  But there is no rush of blood, no fear, no worry.  You just look at him, seeing all of him, young and old.  You realize there has been more than one constant in your life. 

The knife catches a glint of starlight, a flash of light in the darkness. 

“You and I are the same, aren’t we, murder princess?” he says.   “But also not.  You were raised in the pen with us but it was never the same.  We’re just animals to him.  Raised to the slaughter, ha!  But not you.  One way or another, you’re going to be someone.” 

You watch as he lifts his hand. He curls and uncurls a fist.  He looks down at his palm. 

“When it happens,” Changbin says, “Because it will happen, tomorrow or in a month or a year or whenever Miroh decides… But when I go like the rest of them… When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be…  When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…” 

He draws a slow slice across his hand, not so deep to be detrimental to his grip, but enough to draw blood in a long, thin line.  You look at this small scar as if it the deepest wound you have ever encountered. 

“Just… remember me,” he says.  “I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh.  I’m your soldier, not his.”

You are at a loss for words.  You do not think there are any words, none that you were raised to know.  You can only stare at the little trickle of blood as it runs down his wrist and drips onto the floor. 

You have always felt very alone.  You learned to thrive in that solitude.  Even clinging to the hope of your father’s approval proved exhausting and useless.  You accepted your high promontory was a lonely one.  

Not even that solitude compares to the idea of Changbin gone.  Even if you go weeks without seeing him, he is out there somewhere.  You both keep your heads down, get the job done.   Not the best soldiers, not the worst, but the ones still here. 

You let instinct override your senses for the second time that night.  When he makes to stand, your reflexes snap into action.  You grab him by the arm and snatch the knife.  He has no time to respond, watching as you slice a similar scar on your own palm. 

Your eyes meet.  You are unflinching, more resolute than ever.  You clasp his hand and the blood smears in a signifying pact that needs no other words. 

Only when the moment settles do you say, “You’re not a half-bad bodyguard.”

His laughter comes to him slowly, none of that empty joviality but a genuine burst of it.  His eyes crinkle and his smiles widens and the laughter bubbles out of him. 

“I’m the best bodyguard,” he says.  “And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” 

-

In the light of day, last night’s whirlwind of dramatic emotions feel tempered.  You and Changbin are able to conduct yourselves with a proper degree of soldiership.  Though his words and your promise are in the back of your mind, you put it away for now.

You dress in combat gear and pack your bags for another day of infiltration, investigation, and clean-up.  It is hard to say how easy or difficult the day will be.  If you encounter other agents, the confrontation could complicate things, but sometimes that is better than a long day with no interesting discoveries at all. 

The enemy had properties scattered all over town, some active and some not.  This particular office building is a very old one, seemingly long since abandoned and turned into company storage.  Some of these boxes have not been touched in decades, perhaps remnants of the business as run by the previous generation. 

A thick layer of dust coats the desks and boxes.  At least your masks are put to work, filtering the dusty air as you trail through the building. 

“Yahhh,” Changbin whines, flicking some papers off a desk.  “Today’s going to be boring.” 

“Yup,” you say in accord.  There is no way anyone else will be here.  You doubt there is anything of value to be discovered, but Miroh will harass you if you do not complete his missions as outlined.  With so much tension between you already, it is better to keep your head down and complete the menial tasks, even if it is blatant busy work. 

A few of your officers are sent ahead to sweep the building.  It is not a towering skyscraper but several tall floors nonetheless.  Your subordinates take different floors while you and Changbin take an upper level.  You begin the tedious task of rifling through the abandoned documentation.

“I’m a supersoldier, not a secretary,” Changbin gripes, moving boxes with more force than necessary.

“You’re not a supersoldier,” you say without looking up from your work.  “There’s no such thing.”

“I’m pretty close,” he says, flexing and kissing his bicep. 

“When you start flying, maybe I’ll consider it,” you retort, dryly.

“All right, I’m not a supersoldier,” he says.  He takes off his mask to grin at you.  “But I am super good looking.” 

You take off your own mask to throw at him like a projectile.  He squeals and ducks, then proceeds to cuss you out for the next few minutes while you smile. 

Eventually he takes a seat.  He props his booted feet up on a desk while sorting through some papers with absent-minded perusal. 

“So tell me again about the security log,” Changbin says, evidently growing bored within minutes. 

You can hardly blame him.  It is why you are about to reply, but your thoughts are quickly obliterated.  Gunfire reverberates in the nearby stairwell, followed by shouting and thumping.  Seconds later, your warning pagers are vibrating.  Your officers’ voices come through the communications software.

“Hostile enemy agents breached ground zero,” they say.  “Be ready for confrontation.”

You and Changbin spring into action.  Your masks are unfortunately abandoned, too far to grab in a rush thanks to your shenanigans, but your bags and weapons are within reach.   You swing them on and arm yourselves, racing into the corridor to join the rest of your team. 

It happens very fast.  One moment, this ancient building is nothing more than a dilapidated office from a bygone era, brimming with useless nothings that no one would want.  The next moment, it is overflowing with enemy agents, pouring in one after the other. 

You and Changbin join the other officers in the stairwell.  None of you are prepared for the sight that greets you, the sheer number of adversaries that come streaming into the building at rapid speed.

“What the fuck,” you say, realizing far too late you cannot take this many agents.  You have not had anything near this problem before.   

You look at Changbin, both of you shooting uselessly to stop the encroach of hostiles. 

“We need to retreat,” you say in unison.  You nod at each other. 

The message gets passed along the communicators.  There is no way to escape through the ground floor, the enemy agents chasing you up the stairwell.  You take out your phone to call for back-up, relaying the message directly to Miroh’s team leaders. 

“Can you at all identify the hostiles?” the man asks. 

“Do we know who they are?” you shout at Changbin over the gunfire and chaos. 

“Ah, well they’re not friends!” he replies.

You pause in your ascent to squint down at the approaching horde.  The uniform colours are familiar at a glance, but the dog tags confirm your suspicions.  It locks you in place with shock and confusion, because there is no way that makes any sense. 

These agents belong to the enemy.  The enemy.  It explains the numbers, as only that house could rival Miroh in terms of size and numbers.  But it is not possible he is conducting an offensive attack because he’s dead and his business is in shambles.  There is no one to conduct an operation on his behalf.  It makes no sense. 

Changbin grabs you by the back of the neck, hauling you up the stairs with him. 

“Not the time to stop and smell the flowers, murder princess,” he says. 

“It’s the enemy,” you say.  “I don’t know how or why, but it’s them.”

“We’re sending a back-up team straight to you right now,” Miroh’s leader says. 

You end the call to focus on your surroundings, confusing and chaotic as they are. 

You watch as several of your officers are taken down.  You wince at each reverberation of a gunshot that kills them.  A dozen more faces flash in front of your eyes, every child in that program with you, every enemy you have killed on Miroh’s behalf.  Chris.  Felix.  Changbin, young, small, looking at you with concern.

The reign of fire follows you.  You think you will be hearing gunshots for days. 

“Get her out,” one of your officer’s says into the comms, directed at Changbin.  “Leave through the roof.  We’ll hold them off.”

You trip running up the stairs. 

You never trip, far more coordinated than the average soldier.  But you hear your officer say that and your mind’s eye is overwhelmed with the image of them dying.  Because that is what will happen.  You should not be bothered by it.  You can train a new security team.  They exist for this exact reason. 

But all their faces are flashing in front of your mind.  Your team, the program soldiers, the First Guard.  A thunderous pain rattles down your spine, a cry leaving your lips as you are inundated with visions of death that you suddenly cannot shake. 

“Up, up!” Changbin shouts, hoisting you onto your feet.  “You’re better than this!” 

He’s right.  You are a soldier.  You trained for this.  You were made to fight. 

You push through the pain and thunder.  You get your feet back under you.  You race with Changbin to the roof and trust your team to do what is best. 

You slam and bolt the door behind you.  You look around for something to barricade it but there is nothing.  Changbin meanwhile opens his pack and takes out the rappel line and harness.  You have had little use for it on most of the assignments, but it is standard tactical gear when assigned any investigation or clean-up work, as it can require getting into locked areas through sky access.   You almost left them behind today, knowing the building was abandoned and you would have no difficulty getting in.  You are glad you decided against that. 

“Here,” Changbin says, handing you the harness.  “Put this on.”  He ducks back down to finish securing the line on the edge of the roof. 

“They’re not gonna be able to hold them,” you say, fitting the harness around yourself.  It is second-nature.  You hardly need to think, fastening every buckle as you stare at that closed door.  “They’ll be on us in seconds,” you say.  “They’ll just follow us over the roof on the line.”  You grant your odds are better on the street, that you can endeavour an escape, but that is only if you get that far.  Those enemy agents are going to blast down that door like it’s made of cardboard, then they will be on you. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your adrenaline propelling every breath.  You do not have time to think twice.  It is why it takes you so long to notice that Changbin has not put on a harness. 

“What are you doing?” you ask when he stands, completely unprepared to rappel down the building.  “We have to go! Put your harness on, idiot!” 

He takes the hook and locks it onto your harness, fastening it with a few skilled flicks of his fingers.  You grab his hand, stopping him. 

He takes a breath and finally meets your eye.  The wind blows his dark bangs across his face, opening up his expression to you.  You can feel the furious scrunch of your own features go lax.  Just like that, your adrenaline dwindles, all that heat turning to an ice cold block in your chest.  It drops to your gut.

“Changbin,” you start. 

“You’re going to go down that line,” he says.  “When you’re at the bottom, I’m going to cut it so they can’t follow you.  It will buy you time to get to the vehicles and get away.”

“Absolutely not,” you say.  “What the fuck are you thinking?  You—”  

“I’m your bodyguard,” he says with that wry smile.  “This is my job.  Let me do it.” 

“No,” you say, struggling against him.  You try to unhook the rappel line but he fights back, not your usual play-fighting but deadly serious.  “You can’t be serious!” you shout.  “We’re the same thing!  If you’re staying and fighting then I’m joining you!”

“We’re not the same thing!” he shouts back.  “You’re a Miroh!  You need to get out of here!”

“You’re right, I am a Miroh!” you say.  “It’s me they want anyway!  You put on the harness!  You can still get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving here without you!”

You want to reply.  The words are right on your lips: I’m not leaving here without you either. 

But before you can say them, all that thunderous pain fractures your vision again.  Your focus splits.  You see Changbin in front of you, dressed in his combat gear with the wind in his hair.  

Then everything changes. 

The sunny sky darkens and the rooftop disappears.  You see the colour grey.  It is all around you, halfway blinding you, filling your lungs so you can hardly breathe.  You blink rapidly, as if that will clear your vision, but it is just more grey and the sound of faraway voices. 

Then you see Changbin again, in his combat gear but years younger.  Just a teenager, all skinny cheeks and sharp angles.  There is no wind in his hair.  There is no wind anywhere.   He is bleeding profusely from a head wound, a stark slash of red in the middle of so much grey.  He says your name.  You hear your own voice but it is a foggy, faraway thing.  You cannot make out what you are saying.  When you look down, you cannot see your body.  You can only see him.  You can only hear him.    

“I’m not leaving here without you,” he says.

Then you are abruptly yanked out of that grey.  You are back on the rooftop in the sunshine. Changbin has his hand planted on your chest, securing the last piece of the harness.  You hear the thud of someone kicking at the bolted door.  You look there frantically.  Changbin does too.  Then you look at each other. 

“I told you I was the best bodyguard ever,” he says, smiling.  

He whips off his glove, revealing his freshly scarred hand.  He grabs your bare hand, the one with the still-tender scar.  He clasps your hands together and looks at you with a desperation you have never seen before, like he is trying to tell you a thousand things with just a glance. 

Then he slowly lets go of your hand. 

“Sorry I can’t fly,” he says. 

He shoves the middle of your chest, hard.  You go tumbling over the edge of the roof just as the enemy agents break the door down. 

There is nothing you can do mid-air.  You can only shout his name, terrified and furious and desperate all at once.  You scream your emotions out until the line comes to an end, a few feet from the ground.  You unclip your harness and drop to the ground smoothly. 

“Can anyone copy?” you speak into your comm, looking up at the roof helplessly.  You watch as an enemy agent swings over and starts to climb down the rope.  You draw your gun and brace yourself.

Then Changbin’s head pops over the edge.  “Copy,” he says, then cuts the line. 

You jump out of the way.  Seconds later, the enemy agent comes careening into the ground.  The pile of rope lands on top of him.

“Fuck,” you say.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Changbin!” you shout hysterically into your comms.  “Changbin, can you copy?”

He doesn’t answer.  You run over to the body, searching for something.  You don’t even know what, you just know that this whole situation is wrong. 

It does not take you long.  You roll the body over.  Though his neck is now twisted at a fatal angle, you recognize the agent.  He was standing in your father’s office just a few weeks ago.  His name was Agent Slump.  You shot him through the shoulder. 

These are not enemy agents attacking the house of Miroh, they are your father’s men attacking you.  

You push away from the body, looking frantically up at the roof for any sign of further commotion.  You see nothing from this vantage. 

You run back into the building.  You let adrenaline and instinct carry you up the stairs, taking a few at a time and ignoring the burn in your thighs.  This is Miroh, you keep repeating to yourself.  Your father has done this.  Sending fake enemies after you.  Teaching you yet another lesson.  You said you could handle yourself.  You said your security team could protect you.  Now you are running past their dead bodies, your chest heaving from exertion and emotion.  You find yourself blinking back tears.  You cannot remember the last time you cried. 

“Changbin,” you say into your comm, tripping on another step.  Your voice comes out of the comms on your dead officers.   It echoes in the empty stairwell.  “Changbin, answer me, please,” you say.  “It’s not the enemy.  It’s my father.  It’s Miroh.  Changbin.  Changbin.”

You are halfway up the building when you hear voices below.  You stop to listen.  Your vibrating phone makes you jump. 

“Miss Miroh?” comes a voice, then you see one of your father’s officers at the bottom of the winding stairwell.  This one is not playing a part.  He is in the standard uniform.  There are more officers behind him.  The back-up you called like an idiot. 

You do not go back down.  You drop your phone and race to the roof.

“Get her,” you hear the officer say, then the stairwell is thundering with footsteps as they chase you. 

You no longer know what you are doing.  You do not know where you are going or what you will find.  A part of you is unsurprised when the rooftop is empty, that they got away, that now your father’s men can come in and play hero. 

You look around for Changbin but you cannot find him anywhere.  You try to tell yourself that is a good thing, that it could be worse, that he could be as dead as your security team, just a body on this roof.  You try to tell yourself that he is safe.  It was just Miroh.  They are probably taking Changbin back to the main facilities right now.  Everything will be fine. 

Deep down, you know nothing will be fine.   Everything has changed. 

You hear the officers behind you.  You look around.  The building next door is too far for a regular person to jump, potentially too far for you to jump.  It will be cutting it close, but it is all you have.  At this point, you halfway hope you’ll fall and your father’s men will be forced to report they let you die. 

You shed the top layer of your combat shirt, getting down to the tank top underneath.  You are not sure it will make a difference, but every bit counts.  You back up and count a few seconds, then you take a running leap off the roof.  You get a grip on the next one, though not without a lot of pain.  You grit your teeth and hoist yourself up, ignoring your scraped arms as you take off running.  You open a skylight and drop into the building.  Another empty corridor stretches in front of you. 

You decide your objective it to escape.  You can confront your father after, but right now you need to prove you can handle yourself.  You can get out of here. 

You are certain your father’s men will have the vehicles locked in.  Once you escape this building, you will have to find another—

A window behind you shatters.  You duck and cover your head as glass explodes around you.  You roll to get away, though your limbs are shaky from everything.  When you get to your feet, it is more unsteady than usual. 

You turn around.  You feel that sinking feeling in your gut again.

“Oh my god,” you say.  “Of fucking course it’s you.” 

Bang Chan stands there, cold and ungiving like the living shadow he has become.  Your father likes an agent that can both disappear and intimidate, so Chan somehow feels like a terrifyingly huge figure, looming over you, despite the fact he is not much bigger or taller.  His presence is hulking, as deadly and awful as you remember.  He stares at you with those dark eyes over the half-mask.  He is not breathing especially hard despite the fact he just took a running leap from the opposite building and smashed through a window.  His body is as steady and ungiving as his gaze. 

You do not waste any more breath cursing.  You turn and run. 

You know it is useless but you have to try.  In your head, if you get away, that is a bargaining chip.  You can talk to Miroh, you can show him that you were right, you can have Changbin back, and Changbin will be fine and—

You let out an aggravated cry when Chan grabs you.  You manage to rip away after a few good kicks.  It is amazing what hidden strength lies in adrenaline.  Your heart is pumping even faster than your last fight with him. 

You duck into a stairwell and jump over the railing, landing a couple floors below.  You keep doing that, ignoring the fact you can hear him copying you.  If you look back, it will slow you down.  You keep jumping until you hit the bottom floor. 

You make it a few steps before he grabs you again.  This time he is relentless, a big gloved around wrapped around your throat. 

That adrenaline betrays you.  It is like all your training abandons you as your terror and fury rips through you.  You struggle against him, your motions jerky and frantic and poorly strategized.  He pins you to the wall, using his whole body to lock you in place so you stop kicking him. 

“Let me go,” you say, barely above a whisper.  It makes him tighten his grip on your throat.  You twitch helplessly, gripping his arm uselessly, your face pinched with anger.  

You are swiftly joined by the other officers.  You glare at them, still digging your nails into Chan’s arm.  He does not soften his grip until he is ordered, then he puts you on your feet.  You stumble, your vision covered in black spots as you suck in deep, gasping breaths.  It was not even just the choking, as he did not squeeze hard enough to fully incapacitate you, but as your adrenaline dwindles, your strength does too. 

You trip for the third time.  Someone grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back up.  You are not sure if you are more surprised or terrified to find it is Chan, looking at you with calculating eyes.  You stare back at him, this manifestation of your father’s worst, most inhumane actions.   You are torn between apologizing to him and kicking him again. 

Then another officer grabs you.  You watch with alarm as he puts you in handcuffs.

“What the fuck?” you ask.  “Who’s fucking side are you on?”

“Miroh always, of course,” the officer says.  “This is for your own good.  You are behaving erratically.  Don’t be scared.  We will inform your father that you tried to flee from your own protective officers.  I am certain he will do everything in his power to ensure you cannot put yourself in harm’s way again.” 

You have no more words.  An animalistic cry escapes from your chest, ripping through you.  Even with your hands cuffed behind your back, you dive at the officer and take him down.  You bite down on his ear until you taste the metallic tang of blood.  He screams under you until someone rips you off him.   They hold you by the back of the neck like a poorly behaved puppy. 

The officer gets to his feet.  Blood is pouring down the side of his neck, part of his ear torn.  You spit blood at him.

He raises his hand as if to strike you.  You stand there, chin jutted forward, ready to take it. 

Then you realize it is Chan holding you.  When the officer brings his hand down, Chan moves you.  He steps in between you and catches the officer’s wrist. 

Chan says nothing.  He does not need to say anything.   He looks at the officer and the officer swallows. 

The officer snatches his hand back and straightens his clothes. 

“We’re leaving,” he says.  “Guard, take your charge.” 

You are looking smugly at the officer.  That cockiness dissipates when Chan turns around and looks at you.  It has you immediately shrinking away, then flinching when he grabs your arm.    

They take you to a truck.  It is one of the holding trucks, the kind they use for transporting undesirables.  It is obvious they always intended to lock you in chains.  You have been in metaphorical chains your whole life, and it is only taking this to realize it. 

You try and slow your frantic breathing.  You cannot have a breakdown right now.  It will only make it harder for you when you confront your father.  You are already at a disadvantage, being dragged to him in literal chains.  You will be completely at his mercy, and Miroh does not have mercy. 

You sit on the bench in the back of the prison truck.  You expect to be alone with an officer, giving you time to strategize and think, but then it is Chan climbing into the van and sitting on the bench across from you.  All the hairs on your body stand up.  You cannot concentrate on anything with Bang Chan in close proximity.  He moves like a wild animal, something predatory and swift about him.   When they close and lock the door, your heart skips beats. 

Chan says nothing.  He never says anything.  On the rare occasion you have been in contact, you have not heard a word out of him.  You seldom have anything to do with the missions he runs.  They are above even your paygrade, the worst of Miroh’s work. 

You swallow.  He is not speaking but he is staring.  He does not remove the mask.  You have not seen him without it in years.  He is nothing but a soldier.  An army unto himself. 

Your heart skips another beat.  An idea slowly forms in your mind. 

You are better than average.  Chan is better than you.  You cannot take all these agents on your own, but you could definitely take them with his help.   Of course, that is an entirely hypothetical thought.  It would be absolutely, completely, severely ridiculous to even try.   You are certain the best reaction you will get out of Chan is nothing, just a penetrating stare and silence.  The worst would probably be a snapped neck. 

You curl your hands behind your back.  The scar on your palm stings.  You clench your jaw.

You have nothing else to lose. 

“You’re not a soldier, you know,” you say. 

Just like you suspected, he says nothing.  He just stares at you.  The truck rattles along, jostling you so your handcuffs jingle.  He moves with the sway of the vehicle, hardly affected. 

Your fear turns to frustration.  You heave a breath. 

“Did you hear me?” you ask.  “You’re not a soldier.  You’re a prisoner.  You’re not who you think you are.  Miroh has you under his control, but it’s not real.  The real you is in there somewhere.  And the real you—”  The words come rushing up, slamming into your furiously clenched teeth, “The real you hates Miroh almost as much as me.” 

Chan stares at you.  That is expected.

What is unexpected is the slow tilt of his head.  It makes you shiver, instinctively cowering as he studies you.  His brow slowly quirks, a questioning expression.  You did not know he could make such an expression. 

“Are you… listening to me?” you ask.   

He straightens, but he still looks questioning.  It is enough for all your desperation to rush to the surface.  You fall forward, slamming on your knees in front of him.  You are so scarred and bruised, it hardly matters.  More important is the fact he looks down, as if he is more concerned by it, though you cannot read any more expressions on his stoic face. 

“Chan,” you say.  “Chris.  Whatever you want to be called.  If you’re in there, then listen to me, please.  I know you don’t know me.  We hardly knew each other at all growing up.  But we did grow up together.  Miroh is controlling both of us.  He is going to use us to do things.  He—”  You curl your fist behind you, needing to feel the sting on your palm.  It brings a tear to your eye. 

Chan is looking at you, expressionless again, but it doesn’t matter.  You have to try.

“It’s not just us,” you say.  “This is bigger than you and me.  I have a—I have a friend—my friend, you understand, and I—”

The van comes to a stop.  Chan grabs you by the shoulders and puts you back on your bench.  You screw your eyes shut and shake your head.  You want to scream. 

When you open your eyes, you pour all your anger in your glare.  It is not directed at Chan, though he is the one to catch your gaze and hold it. 

You are still looking at each other when the door is unlocked.  There was only a small window providing light in the cabin of the truck.  A bigger slash of golden light has you wincing. 

Chan is unaffected, still staring at you.  An officer opens the door wider and nods to him. 

“Let’s go, guard,” he says. 

Chan gets up.  You watch as he struts past.  He jumps out of the van and lands smoothly on his feet.

Then he reels back and punches the officer.  It is quick as a snap, the unconscious body hitting the tarmac in a flash.  It makes you jump, the bench rattling underneath you. 

You sit, petrified, confused.  Chan slowly turns.  You blink at him.

He holds out his hand. 

“What?” you say.  It comes out a rasp.  You cannot manage more words.  There is no way your frantic, barely coherent pleading got through to him.  This man has been tortured into compliance.  There is no humanity left in him, no memories, no emotions, no hopes.   He does not feel anything.  He does not understand anything.  He is a weapon.

He is still holding out his hand. 

There is nowhere to go but forward.  You get to your feet and shuffle towards him.  He still does not speak, nor does he look at you with any particular expression.  He just holds out his arms and lifts you out of the van.  When you are on your feet, you stare at each other.

He spins you around.  A gust of breath whooshes out of you.  You panic for half a second, then you realize he is unlocking your handcuffs. 

Never mind.  He is breaking them with his bare hands.  You watch as they hit the ground in a mangled heap.  You turn around slowly, your knees still shaking. 

Chan is calm as the other officers approach.  Someone asks why you are out of your handcuffs. 

Chan looks at you.  You do not know why or how, but he nods. 

You nod back.

You are a soldier.  You trained for this.  You were made to fight.  It is time to remind them of that. 

-

Your father is in his rooftop garden.  Miroh has a few soft hobbies like that, gardening among his favourite.  He sees himself as a cultivator as much as a green thumb, bringing more life into the world despite what life he takes.  It balances for him.  The ends always justifies the means. 

You walk into his garden.  It is obvious he is not expecting anyone, much less you.  He does not have time to hide his surprise.   You just fought your way through all of his security measures, battered and bruised and beaten.  You have not seen yourself, but you are certain your body is a canvas of violence right now. 

“Hello, father,” you say. 

“Go to my office,” he replies without hesitation.  “We will talk there.”

“No,” you say calmly.  “We’ll talk right here.  Right now.” 

He is holding a watering can.  He puts it down without looking and it tips over, splashing everywhere.  Neither of you look at it.  Your eyes are locked on each other.  You both know what he did today.  He is smart enough to work that out. 

“Where are my men?” he asks. 

“Detained,” you answer.  Chan is holding them off somewhere.  You still do not know why or how, but there will be time for that later.  You have to solve one problem at a time. 

You have no real plan.  You are making it up as you.  All you know is that scar on your hand is throbbing.

I’m not leaving here without you. 

You touch your palm, running your finger over the scar.  You do not look away from Miroh as you approach him.  Your legs are weak, your knees shaking, your body in agony, but you take one step after the other.  Given the stricken look on his face, you think this might be more disturbing than if you were healthy. 

Your injuries might have made you equal fighters, but his arm is still in a cast, weakening him too.   He will not win in a one-on-one fight.  He is smart enough to know that too.  It is why he takes a careful, calculating step back. 

“You’re injured,” he says.  “Go to the infirmary.  We can talk after.”

“We can talk now,” you reply, taking another step forward. 

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he says. 

“Where is he?” you ask. 

You are both speaking calmly, moving slowly.  The watering can is slowly leaking water, gurgling in the background.  Wind moves through the flowers.  You hear birdsong in the sunshine.   Still, in the background, it feels like the world is screaming, the high-pitched whistle of that pot at a boiling point. 

“Who?” your father asks. 

“I’m not playing any more games,” you say.  “I’m not playing dress-up with any little secret agents.  I’m not getting in any rings and playing made-up fights with your silly toy soldiers.  No more lies.  No more games.  No more secrets.  Seo Changbin is my best officer.  I want him back.  Tell me where he is.” 

“His time as a soldier has run its course,” Miroh says.  “His body is more useful than him.  The initial special-ops experiment was a failure.  His genetics might unlock the key to replicating the medicant.  We can try again.  You should want to help me.  You would know better than anyone what worked and what did not.” 

Your exhaustion and emotion nearly gets the better of you.  You almost hurl right in front of him, imagining all the horrifying implications of genetics and keys.  You imagine them taking Changbin apart, piece by piece, experimenting on him like a slab of meat. 

You keep your disgust and horror down.  You take another step forward. 

“Give him back to me,” you say.  “Right now.  I told you already.  I’m not playing any games.” 

“You are deeply unwell,” your father says, his tone changing as he looks at you with more scrutiny.  His whole face seems to darken with the furrow of his brow.  “This is not like you.  Go to the infirmary.” 

“I’m not asking again,” you say.  “Give him back to me.” 

“Why?”

Because you’re my father, should be a good enough answer.  You know it will not work.  You know he does not care.  Miroh hates you because you are his daughter.  Miroh is not scared of anyone because he knows he is the best.  He is scared of himself in you.  You never stood a chance. 

“Because he’s my friend,” you say, because that is the only truth that matters anymore. 

It makes your father laugh unexpectedly.  You do not break. 

“Your friend?” he asks.  “Oh, well, my dear, if he’s your friend, then of course I’ll suspend all my plans and operations!”  He continues to laugh.

“I already told you,” you say.  “I’m not asking again.” 

You fly at him without further warning.  He has a half-second to react, his eyes widening as he side-steps clumsily.  With your mutual injuries, it is not much of a fight.  After a short scuffle, Miroh kicks at your legs, your weakest point, and you double over.  He swings his knee up into your stomach and it makes you fall, curled protectively over yourself.  You plant your forehead on the ground, arms around you, breathing hard. 

“That is how a daughter should be before her father,” he says, looking down at you in your broken little bow. 

You look up as he reaches into the lapel of his coat.  He has kept his gun in the same place for years.  In the same place you always keep yours when you wear a long coat. 

He puts his hand there and finds nothing. 

You uncurl, showing the gun in your hand.  You point it, cock it, and place your finger on the trigger as you stand. 

“If the next words you speak are not his exact location, I’m killing you,” you say. 

“Then kill me,” he says. 

He must know you are running on fumes and a half-baked plan that you did not believe would work.  He is calling your bluff, knowing you like he knows himself.  You will drop the gun and concede.  Miroh wins.  Miroh always wins. 

But you are gripping that gun with your scarred hand.  It sends a twinge of pain shooting up your arm.   You hear Changbin’s voice in your head.

You pull the trigger. 

You are not sure who is more surprised.  You can feel it on your own face, dripping with your sweat and blood.  You lower the gun and watch as Miroh stumbles backwards, frantically patting his chest.   You wonder if he is wearing any protective layers.

It doesn’t matter, in the end.  You spent the last few minutes walking him backwards.  If you couldn’t get the gun, you were going to grab him and threaten him with the edge of the roof. 

When you shoot him, he stumbles.  He falls back.  He goes right over the edge.

You stand there for a long minute.  The watering can has emptied.  The wind has gone still.  The whole world seems to stop.  When you drop the gun, it hits the concrete with a clatter.  It feels very strange that the sun is still shining. 

You walk to the edge of the roof.  You look down.  Your father has loomed over the world from this perch for years, looking over the things he has so meticulously grown. 

He is laying in a broken heap at the bottom of it now. 

You do not know how long you stand there.  The wind begins to blow again.  You feel it on your face. 

Then you hear a voice.  It nearly makes you jump. 

“What now?” it asks. 

You turn around.  Bang Chan is standing there in his dark combat gear, that half-mask still fastened in place. He has finally broken a sweat, his hairline damp, and his chest is moving a little faster with breath.  He is human somewhere under there.  Deep, deep down.   You have no idea what to do with that human anymore than the soldier. 

One problem at a time. 

A few more officers appear on the rooftop.   Chan turns.  You approach him. 

“What now?” you repeat.  You scoop up the discarded gun and point it at the officers.  Chan draws his own and does the same.  You stand side-by-side, arm-to-arm, eyes on your adversaries.  “Right now,” you say, “we fight.” 

You pull the trigger. 

The fight begins. 

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanficiton #bang chan fanfiction #skz x you #stray kids x you

[jamil-s-wifey]

Headcanon request of how the dorm leaders (with kalim replaced w/ jamil if possible) would react to their crush accidentally taking a love potion and acting extra affectionate to them?

Oh I love this so much! There are a few hcs out there about similar situations and they're ALWAYS my favourite to read! I'm so glad I finally got to write some on my own! I hope you enjoy!!!

Warning: slightly suggestive at times.

P.s. the love potion doubles as a truth potion. You'll see what I mean! I've left off on a somewhat open ending, so do tell if you'd like a p2!

Of course you were going to be partners with Ace of all people in Potions. The almost apologetic look, which professor Crewel sent you wasn't really helping you feel any less like a martyr. Any less... patronised. But what were you to do, rather than accept your fate gracefully and see where that takes you.

The potion, which was to be made was a truth potion. It was simple, really. Few ingredients, fewer steps. And it looked exactly like in the picture, only a little less orange and a little more pink. But that was normal, right?

Only it wasn't a truth potion. And Ace decided to put it in a water bottle. The same water bottle as yours. Why? To hide the fact that it was slightly pinker, than orange. Did Crewel buy it? No. But you? You did. One misplaced bottle, an unsuspecting MC and a series of unfortunate events.

When did your juice taste so unbelievably sweet?

"Oh no..."

Riddle was perfectly unsuspecting, going about his day, preparing for an unbirthday party, when he saw Ace practically dragging you to him. The moment you laid eyes on Riddle, a dopey smile appeared on your face.

He is confused ™️. You slipped Ace's grip and threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically hanging off him. "Riddle, the love of my life, I missed you so much, my heart can't beat when you're not around me."

Riddle's face turned 50 shades of red at that exact moment. He turned to Ace for an explanation, feeling embarrassment stir in his heart. And why did you sound like Rook?!

"LOVE POTION. WILL WEAR OUT, BYE " Aaaaand he was gone. Riddle was about to yell after him, when you grabbed his face, looking deep into his eyes. "Riddle, you're so pretty today."

His heart skipped a beat. In fact, it skipped a few too many beats. "Prefect, please. You're under the influence of a potion." He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself.

"But the potion only shows my true feelings for you! I've always loved you!" You smiled at him, running your fingers through his hair.

"T-then... Let's speak about this after the potion wears off, okay?" He asked, reluctantly patting you on the shoulder. (Smooth. V smooth.) "Fine, but only if you stay with me. I want to spend time with you!"

"I will. Until you recover and then some."

He could hear your footsteps, approaching his napping spot in the botanical gardens, so he already knew you were coming before you called out to him. "Leona!" And there it was, your sing-song voice, much cheerier than usual.

He lazily opened one eye as to acknowledge your existence. He expected you to sit down and tell him of whatever wacky shenanigans you'd got into. What he didn't expect was for you to climb into his lap, smothering him in a hug. Was he flustered? Yes. Was he about to show it? Hell no.

"Damn, what has gotten into you today, herbivore? You're unusually... annoying."

No. No, do not give him the puppy eyes, he can't take it. Oh god. "I just wanted to come see you! Mmm, you smell so good." You whispered, shoving your face into the crook of his neck. The whole position you two were in was quite...the sight. A growl escaped him, before he pushed you back, to look you in the eyes. Were your pupils... Hearts?!

"What the fuck has happened to you? Did you ingest something you shouldn't?" Now that he thought about it, your breath did smell sweeter, no, all of you smelled sweeter. He was perceptive, terrifyingly so. In fact he was pretty sure a love potion was responsible for your actions. You seemed drunk (off of him).

"Fuck, get off, we gotta go to the infirmary, or better yet - to Crewel, to brew an antidote.

"But- maybe I like being like this. At least I'm bold enough to show you how much I love you like this!"

....wait what?

He was about to have a very long chat with you once all of this was resolved.

Azul was finishing up the preparation for a new FRESH BATCH of contracts, when a knock on the door interrupted him. In came Jade, followed by you - a very giddy-looking you.

"My apologies, they insisted they had to see you." With those words, Jade left the vicinity, knowing fully well what was about to go down (because of course the fucker knew you weren't being fully yourself. He was also acutely aware of Azul's growing infatuation with you.)

"Azul, I come with a proposition. Let's form a relationship contract, where we both get all benefits of being a couple!" You moved behind his desk, grabbing his hand. "It's a limited time offer. Sealed with a kiss!"

Azul was: Flustered. Flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Floored. Gone. Out of the stratosphere. He was torn between running away to his octopot and smootly answering by presenting a contract, ready-made for the occasion. (Which he totally had.)

"M-MC. This is rather sudden of you-" he started, fixing his glasses. "I did not expect...such a proposition." Not that he would complain.

You moved closer to him, wrapping your other arm around his neck. "Well, what do you say? Do we have a deal?" Those eyes of yours were piercing through his very heart, unnaturally so... Suspiciously unnaturally.

"MC, if you may, could you perhaps wait until I've... finished writing down the logistics of such a contract?"

Your smile widened and he swore he felt Cupid's arrow pierce through him. "Of course, for you I'd wait a lifetime, my handsome octopus~"

You were never THIS bold with him. He had to investigate further.

Jamil had just finished basketball practice, when he bumped into you. Or more so, you bumped into him. Immediately, you threw your arms around his neck, bringing him down to leave a kiss on his cheek. "Hey, Jamil~ Fancy seeing you here."

What in the Sevens' name-

He felt blood rush to his face at an alarming rate. Looking away, he pushed you back to create some distance between you two. "What has gotten into you?!" He asked, exasperated, still keeping you at arm's length. He was NOT prepared for his crush doing that out of nowhere.

"I'm just greeting you, silly! I passed by the gym, figured I'd say hi~"

"Okay. Hi. What do you want? You can't just...go around doing that." He did not have time to deal with whatever this is, he figured it was most probably a prank of some kind.

"What makes you think I go around kissing people. I only want to kiss you!" You smiled at him so lovingly, he could barely keep his knees from buckling. This was quickly becoming very overwhelming for him.

"Where is...all of this coming from, exactly? Are you fever-striken or something?" He lay a hand on your forehead, y'know, just checking.

"It's not a fever, Jamil. I'm just reaaaaally into you!"

"Stop joking around about this."

"I'm serious!" You grabbed his hand, laying it over your heart. His eyes narrowed. It's not like he didn't believe you, but this was far too sudden and you seemed far too..out of it of sorts. His sixth sense was screaming at him. He considered cornering Ace after taking you home. He already seemed pretty fidgety during practice.

"Okay. Look. Let's talk about this over coffee tomorrow, alright? My treat."

"Oooh, so a date, then?"

"Yes... a date. Now let me walk you back to Ramshackle."

The moment you saw Ace's horrified expression, you knew there was only one person you could turn to - Vil. He could surely help brew an antidote. As fast as possible you made your way to Pomefiore, worried about what the potion might do to you. However, the moment you laid eyes on him, you felt your own emotions overwhelm you.

"Vil!"

He was in the lounge, scolding conversing with Epel. The moment your eyes met, the most lovestruck of smiles crawled on your face. "Ah, I'm so happy to see you. I missed you greatly!" You walked over to him, a slight skip in your step. Vil merely raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here, potato? Unannounced, and you look like you've run here." He dismissed Epel, mumbling how he'll 'deal with him later', instead turning his attention fully to you.

"I came to ask for help, I accidentally ingested a potion. But now that I'm here-" you moved to link your arm with his. "I could maybe spend some time with you? We haven't seen each other in nearly a week, handsome." You winked at him.

"Potato, as much as I enjoy spending time with you, you can't ju- wait. What potion???" He grabed you by the shoulders. "How did it happen?!"

You smiled at him, reaching out to gently grasp a strand of his hair and twirl it. "It was supposed to be a truth potion, but something went wrong. Ace put it in a water bottle and I drank it. But I feel perfectly fine, especially now that I'm here. Ah, somehow I never get the chance to tell you how much you truly mean to me. And I mean it romantically."

He nearly lost his cool. Hiding his frazzled state behind a dainty cough, clearly fake, not that there was anybody around to call him out, a deep sigh escaped his lips. "You probably added too much chicory root and turned it into a love potion."

You frowned. "But my feelings are very real. I could just never tell you before. Do you.. not return them?"

"Pota- MC, let me brew you an antidote, and then I'll give you my answer, okay?"

You had texted him, saying you urgently needed to go see him. And you even had texted your code word for "fucking emergency, drop what you're doing right now". Yes, the word was "capybara". Much unlike his usual self, he quickly exited the game he was playing, after all - you only used that word once before, and he really didn't want to ponder on THAT time.

Just as he was about to text you back, a hurried knock on his door startled him.

"MC?" He questioned, looking around to make sure his room was at least somewhat decent looking. You'd hung out with him countless times before, but he wanted to double-check anyways.

"Yes! I'm coming in!" And there you stood, worry instantly leaving your features the moment you spotted him. "Ah, Idia. I'm so lucky to have you.~" before he could react, you made a few steps forward and threw yourself on him, hugging him.

Now, Idia has never been one to appreciate any kind of contact, especially physical. But having his crush hug him. Nah. His internal graphics card isn't strong enough to withstand such situations. He felt himself nearly overheat at the feeling of your body against his. The tiniest of yelps escaped him - the clearest of signs that his body was going into overdrive.

"Idia, something really bad happened and I fear it might affect me. I should stay indoors until it wears off, can we just stay here and cuddle?"

CUDDLE?! C U D D L E?! D-DID HE HEAR YOU RIGHT?! His knees buckled and the two of you fell to the floor. "W-wha-" he couldn't even form his sentence. And it became even worse, once you nestled into his arms, making yourself more comfortable. "I've been waiting for a long time to do this~" you murmured, a satisfied smile on your lips.

He gathered all of the strength in his body, mind and soul, to ask you. "W-what bad thing happened?"

"I drank a potion in class. I don't know what will happen to me and when it will wear off." You mumbled, fingers tracing over his chest. "But I feel safe now. So it's okay."

What kind of potion? He focused all of his attention to the information given to him. He had to know, insecurities and anxiety be damned, you used *the code word* after all.

Somehow, he hoped his suspicions were incorrect.

Malleus was walking near Ramshackle, waiting patiently for your arrival, as the two of you'd scheduled an afternoon walk. Naturally, he saw you approach from a mile away, but the worried look on your face, alarmed him . What alarmed him even more was the faint magical residue, emanating off of you. You were supposed to be magicless, right? Did somebody try to attack you?

As you reached him, you immediately buried your face in his chest, hugging him tightly. He returned the hug, gently running his fingers through your hair. You two were already close enough to have some form skinship, but somehow you were never this forward.

"Tsunotarou", you mumbled, looking up at him. "I'm sorry I'm late." "Nonsense, Child of man. I reckon you're just on time. Is this what has you so troubled?"

"Not really, we had an accident in potions class." Before you could further elaborate, you reached out, cupping his cheek. "But it's okay. This is the most free I've ever felt. As if I'm soaring through the sky, and for once I'm not overthinking my every move. And it's all because of you." You stroked his cheek gently. "Have I ever told you how much I like you?"

His eyes grew wide open at the carefree admission. He was one split second decision away from kissing you breathless right then and there, but somehow he knew something was very wrong. "My, how bold of you, my dear." His surprise soon turned to sorrow, as he pieced together the situation. "It appears that accident may have involved a love potion."

"It was supposed to be a truth potion." You corrected with a small giggle.

"Alas, those two are easy to mix. I appreciate the boldness, I truly do, my dear. However, seeing as you're under the influence of such a potion, I cannot respond in any way."

A bitter smile graced his lips as he patted you on the head. "Let us bring you to Professor Crewel, to brew an antidote. In the meantime, you can tell me which insolent soul is responsible for this."

You pouted at him. "Crewel said it will wear off on its own. And once it does, I will come and confess to you again, to show you how real my feelings are."

That made him smile a bit, as his heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Some may call it false hope. He calls it dedication.

"Then I shall await that moment most ardently, my dear."

#twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x reader #disney twst #twisted wonderland jamil #disney twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twst x you #twst x yuu #twst x y/n #twst x mc #jamil x reader #leona x reader #riddle x reader #azul x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #leona x you #riddle x y/n #azul x yuu #jamil x yuu #vil x yuu #idia x mc #malleus x yuu #twisted wonderland idia #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland azul

[hyunluvbug]

jealousy, jealousy

pairing: lee know x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW MDNI!!, ex lovers to lovers?, public sex (bathroom), oral (m receiving), face fucking (f receiving), unprotective sex, possesive!minho

premise: lee know is your ex and he sees you in the club one night. he becomes jealous from all the attention everyone is giving you.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i have been simping extra hard for this man recently (more than normal ><) and this idea kind of drove me crazy. so i had to write and share this fantasy, enjoy :>

minho. the man who once consumed every ounce of your mind. his name running circles throughout brain like a marathon. he is everywhere until he is nowhere. the cause of your breakup? it was a mutual agreement. something you both discussed. all of it came down to the both of you being too busy to see one another.

"i think we should break up." minho tells you one evening in your apartment.

"okay."

your agreement is one that shocks him. he's shocked that you both thought the exact same thing. being too busy and not seeing each other enough made it feel like there wasn't any point to the relationship. of course, you miss him like hell and he misses you too. but it is what was best in the moment.

your friends thought maybe you are insane. they know how much you both love each other. hearing you decided to break up was a shocker for them. when you two had been dating for over a year. you kept telling them you were fine and that the breakup was simple. no one's heart was truly broken and no one was left with sullen feelings. a small piece of you did wish things could be different. but life just happens.

this is what led to your friends dragging you to the club. it had been a week without him and it felt like any other day. you barely saw him during the relationship to begin with so not much was new. a part of you did begin to feel lonely. knowing that you are no longer his and he’s not yours, did hurt.

your friends wanted to drag you to the club thinking it would cheer you up when you weren't even sad. you accepted anyways since a night out could be fun.

the crowd was lively. music boomed through the room causing vibrations to buzz the floor beneath you. a cup in hand filled with vodka and your hips swaying side to side. your friends are around you dancing with one another, twirling around and giggles leaving their lips. you are tipsy. the liquor making your body feel electric.

there were many other attractive people who caught your eye. some of them even eyeing you from how great you looked tonight. you had put on what you considered to be your best outfit and it was garnering many people's attention. one person's attention was all on you and you hadn't even noticed him.

minho was at that exact same club. for the exact reasons as you. his friends didn't really understand how the two of you broke up. you were practically inseparable when you were together but they guessed his busy schedule plus yours didn't match. minho was practically fuming though as he watched you dance in the crowd. taking notice of all the other people watching you, practically eye fucking you from a distance. he felt jealousy bubble up into his chest and he was waiting for it to explode.

you don't even remember how it all happened. one minute you were dancing and another you were following minho into the men's bathroom. he walked over to you and didn't even say a word, all he did was grab your wrist and drag you along. you let him.

"minho?" you questioned as he leads you into a stall. he locks the stall door and stares at you. taking in just how great you look in your outfit. everything about it makes him lose his mind.

"do you know how difficult it is to see other people who clearly want to fuck you?"

"excuse me." you question, shocked at what he is telling you. he begins to pull down his zipper, you watch him with your eyes wide. you are tipsy but you can still understand what he is about to do.

“knees.”

“if you think i’m going to get on this dirty ass floor-“

he lightly pushes you to the floor, “i said get on your knees.”

his eyes are clouded with darkness, something you hadn’t seen before. you gulp down your words as you look up at him. he pulls his pants and boxers down, his eyes looking into yours.

“you know what to do.”

you hesitate for a moment. remembering the break up and how it all happened. it was all his idea and yet here he is practically commanding you to suck him off. you can't deny that this whole situation turns you on.

"come on baby, i know you've missed me as much as i have missed you." he sighs above you, you look into his eyes. your eyes half lidded and he smiles at the sight. you bring his cock closer to your lips and begin to lick the tip.

"fuck, that's my good girl."

you tease his tip with your tongue, his hand caresses your cheek and pulls you forward. his cock fully enters your mouth and he lets out a loud groan.

"such a perfect mouth." he holds onto your face while he fucks his cock into your mouth. your eyes are on him as you watch him bite down on his lip. many moans and groans leave from his lips as he continues to slide in and out of your mouth.

squelching sounds of your spit on his cock fills the bathroom and echoes off the walls. the idea of someone walking in and hearing it makes you wet.

minho then pulls you away quickly. he stares into your eyes, a smirk is on his face. he grabs your wrists and pulls you up off the floor. his lips come into contact with yours and it feels euphoric. being able to kiss again after so long feels amazing. it is a feeling you didn't think you would be able to experience again.

while you're making out, you feel him pull down your panties. easy access since you're wearing a skirt. he runs his fingers under your skirt to feel your wetness.

"you always get soaking for me." he whispers over your lips. his fingers prod at your folds and run over your clit. making your legs shake and a soft moan to leave your lips.

"minho please."

"don't worry, i'll give you what you want."

he places you against the cold metal stall wall. you jump up to wrap your legs around him. you feel his cock come into contact with your folds. he rubs his cock over them letting the wetness coat him.

"you're mine." he breathes into your ear and pushes inside. the feeling of his cock inside of you at this angle makes your eyes roll. he is able to hit the deepest part of you. exploring the pleasure it brings you both.

he begins to thrust, in doing so, the stall wall begins to creak. the sound of him fucking you makes your brain mushy. the thrusts become more erratic and quick, your moans egging him to go faster.

"you want someone to hear you get slutted out huh? let them hear how dumb i fuck you. come on baby, say it."

you can't even form words. what he says slips in one ear and out the other. you can only imagine how fucked out you must look right now. your eyes are half closed and practically rolling into the back of your head.

"say it." he coos and you pant loudly. his thrusts become more harsh, each one pulling out slowly and thrusting back in even harder.

"y-you fuck, you fuck m-me so stupid."

"good girl." he chuckles, his thrusts go even deeper inside. wet sounds filling the bathroom. each thrust making you even more stupid, not being able to think about anything but him.

and your worst fear happens. someone walks in.

the bathroom door swings open with a creak and you hear them unzip their pants. minho covers your mouth with one hand and continues to fuck up into you. this drives you even more insane. knowing someone can still hear the rhythmic squeaking of the stall door. they can probably guess what is happening. your moans are muffled by his hand, he looks into your eyes. a big smirk is on his face. he is reveling in the fact someone can hear you get fucked. once they finish their business, they flush and walk out. the door creaks closed.

minho removes his hand from your mouth and you let out a loud groan.

"can't let anyone hear how fucked out you sound. only i can. just me. no one else baby. i want you for myself. i own you." he whispers sweetly into your ear. each phrase matched with a hard thrust.

you let out a few more whimpers. starting to feel a little embarrassed at how he makes you feel. everything he says makes you even closer to your high. his words allow you to revisit your feelings for him, everything begins to come back to you. you don't ever want to leave him. you want to be with him no matter what it takes.

"cum for me baby." he pants into your ear, his thrusts beginning to falter as his high also approaches. he thrusts inside a few more times and you're coming undone around him.

"shit." he grunts and you feel his cum coat your walls. he wraps his arms around you, your legs still secure around his waist. he pulls out of you and you let out a low whine. he begins to breathe heavily into your neck, trying to get through his orgasm.

when his breaths slow down, he looks up at you. his eyes glossed over with love. he smiles shyly at you, "okay so maybe i got jealous."

the statement makes you chuckle. you tap his arms and he helps you down to the floor. your knees wobble a little bit but he helps you stay up. he hands you your underwear and you slide them back on.

"that was one hell of a way to show me you want to get back together." you smirk and his face flushes. now he is the one who is embarrassed. he pulls up his own boxers and jeans.

"i just missed you so much baby." your hand reaches up to his cheek, caressing his soft skin.

"well, you have me. i am never leaving your side again." he leans into your hand, his eyes welling up with tears. he sniffles a little and you coo at him.

"wow, you missed me that much? i can finally say i made the lee minho cry."

"ah shut up, you're ruining it."

you both begin to laugh together, hoping that this is what will keep you together. the undeniable love you have for one another should be enough. no one or anything could ever get in the way of that again.

#lee minho smut #lee know smut #lee know imagine #lee minho imagine #stray kids imagine #kpop imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #skz smut #skz imagine

[lustspren]

P.S.T EP. 1 | As You Wish ft Yuna

length: 10.2k words✦

Shin Yuna & Male Reader. 

genres: footjob, thighjob, foot worship, public sex, blowjob, oral sex, creampie  ✧ 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The night you came home after the Spa session with ITZY was one of doing everything on autopilot, you didn't really pay attention to what you were doing, your mind kept on what had happened a few hours ago, and above all, in the difficult, incredible and terrifying request that Yeji had made of you.

Normally your mind was scheming every second that passed, but the moment where you overthought things the most was when you went to sleep. You thought about many things with the blanket up to your chest and your gaze fixed on the ceiling, and the question that most frequently occurred to you was 'am I really up to it?'. The work you had done with them, even with the limitations already imposed by the work environment, had been impeccable, otherwise you wouldn't be in the situation you were in, but you couldn't help but think that the pressure could work against you at any time, even knowing that you were not going to have any limitations of any kind.

And well, the other questions that occurred to you were stupid things that your head threw at you just to piss you off, such as: 'What will they do if I don't please them? JYP is going to disappear me into a pool of sulfuric acid?' or also 'If I do something they don't like, will they cut my dick off?'. Quite normal questions that the human brain asks in stressful situations.

That night you went to sleep restless.

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to a message on your phone from an unknown number, but from the way it was written you could easily tell that it was from Hwang Yeji. The message didn't contain much, it was just a greeting, an address and a warning that emphasized that you should not arrive before 5 pm. You clearly weren't going to argue against that.

It was 10:13 in the morning on a Sunday, and despite having slept for more than 9 uninterrupted hours, you felt like a Bear whose hibernation was interrupted by a tremendously unavoidable situation and who hated his life. You made a quick breakfast, cereal and a couple of oatmeal cookies, and turned on the small TV in your kitchen to catch the day's news.

The truth was that you didn't even watch the news, your gaze was lost in nothing while your arm spooned cereal into your mouth from time to time, too busy thinking about what the hell you were going to wear to go, and that was just the beginning of the day.

———————————————————————

2:43 PM and you were still sitting on your bed, staring at your wide open closet as you pored over your options. You had never felt so Grinch in your life, you even made the faint of lying back on your bed and saying: 'That's it I'm not going', but your common sense made you realize that this was tremendously stupid .

In the end, enlightenment came to you on its own, you didn't want to dress like you were going to a Met Gala, but you didn't want to dress like a bum either. You opted for khaki baggy pants, white trainers, a gray hoodie, and a black baseball jacket with white over it. You saw yourself in the mirror a couple of times, and surprisingly, you considered that you were perfect for the occasion.

You left your building at around 3:03 PM, took your car and drove to the address written in Yeji's message. It was about 10 minutes driving until you arrived, realizing that you were in a residential villa, and that Itzy's bedroom was a 3-story townhouse. You weren't surprised at all.

The townhouse was a little further apart from all the others. Located on the hillside and not far from the forest. You had to admit that it was a beautiful, peaceful place with beautiful views, perfect so that no one would ever think of finding them there. Clever to say the least.

You parked the car on the road a few meters from the gate and got out of the car while you put the keys in your jacket pocket. You stood in front of the gate, and you stared at a camera located to the right for a few seconds until you took out your phone to tell Yeji that you were outside. You only received an 'I know' as a response. You saw the camera again and waved.

Less than five minutes passed when the automatic gate began to open, and when it reached halfway, you found yourself face to face with Yeji herself, as radiant and beautiful as she always was despite not even wearing makeup. She was wearing black sweatpants, gray crocs, and a white tank top with no bra underneath. Your gaze went to the clearly visible nipples for a moment, but then back to her eyes.

"Hello there, oppa," Yeji smiled with her gaze fixed on you, her hands clasped behind her back, "Welcome, I didn't think you'd be here so late."

"Hi! Thank you" you greeted back with a friendly smile, walking past her to stand on the other side of the gate, "Well, actually I spent most of the time debating with myself, sorry."

"Oh, you didn't want to come?" She raised an eyebrow in the most dangerous way, and then stepped forward to stand mere inches from you, "Did you think you'd miss out on the chance to get our pussies as much as you want? Really?"

"Well, if you say it that way..." you were going to finish the sentence until Yeji put her hand on the back of your neck and pulled you towards her so that you were inches from her face.

"You don't turn down an offer like that, darling, it would be sacrilege," she took one of your hands and brought it to one of her tits, so that you could feel and squeeze it over the fabric of her tank top, "And I would take that as an offense to us," she approached your lips as if to kiss them, you felt her breath, but as soon as your lips brushed, she pulled away from you.

"I… right, fuck, I'm sorry," you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself, "wasn't that a little risky doing that out here?"

"Nah, we live alone, it's safe enough here to do that," Yeji turned around and started walking towards the house, you followed her close behind.

"That sounds too good to be true," you commented, looking at the rectangular pool you were surrounding and the crystal clear water flowing through.

"Well you're right, our manager comes every day to check that everything is fine and in order," you walked to the right, straight towards one of the glass doors. Yeji opened it by sliding it to the left, and made you go in first, "But he only comes in the morning, and as soon as he arrives, he's gone."

Yeji guided you through the giant and beautiful house, giving you a quick mini tour of just the places you passed. You got to the second floor, and as soon as you climbed the last step, you found yourself facing another glass door that led to one of the balconies, where there was what appeared to be a large rectangular jacuzzi with two steps.

"Fuck, they spared no expense," you muttered, looking out.

To the right of the glass door were the stairs leading to the third floor, and you barely glanced left to see a familiar face in the room at the end of the hall. You and Yeji walked in that direction, and now you were in what was the living room of the house.

"Oh my, look who we have here," Ryujin said playfully, sitting with her legs drawn up on the far left of the giant beige leather sofa, which spanned at least 10 feet horizontally. She wasn't even fully clothed, just wearing a baggy black sweater and blue panties.

Ryujin wasn't the only one on the couch. To the right, slightly away from her, Chaery was lying, staring at her phone and her head resting on the armband, which you were sure was more of a pillow, and the sofa could also be used as a bed. She was also still in her pajamas, extremely short white shorts and a loose-fitting shirt of the same color.

"Hi girls," you greeted with a smirk and a little bow to both of them. Ryujin got up only to give you a peck on the cheek and sit back down, but Chaery just waved at you with her view still on her phone screen.

"Oh, don't mind her, she just woke up and she hates us all," Yeji said, leaving you standing where you were and entering an unseen hallway to your left. You assumed that she led to a bathroom.

"It's 3 in the afternoon, are you serious?" you chuckled.

"She fell asleep late watching an anime on Netflix," said another person to your left who you hadn't noticed because of how quiet and still she was. You turned to see Lia, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, next to the outlet where she had her phone connected. She did go with ordinary two-piece pajamas, blue cotton shorts and a tank top of the same color, however, she was not wearing a bra either.

"Which one?" you asked, with your hands in the pockets of your jacket to take a few steps forward and analyze the entire room, you were unable to calculate an exact price for such beauty, but the oak wood floor and furniture, together with the intrinsic system of lighting in the whole house had to be worth 10 times more than your apartment.

"The Seven Deadly Sins..." Chaery replied, her voice sounding as if her soul had been sucked out of her.

"Damn, you wasted your time, I'm sorry," you winced.

"Please don't remind me," she sighed.

"Hey, want to have a seat? You're getting on my nerves standing there," Ryujin said, patting a space next to her. You went and sat down. Sitting there you could see the rest of the space, in front there was a small brick wall that matched the floor, a boiler on the lower right side with a compartment to store firewood on the left, and installed higher up, a TV about 50 inches where they were watching Bluey. To the left of the brick wall, another glass door that also led to the balcony.

"Oh, where is Yuna? I haven't seen her," you said, watching the show with Ryujin.

"She must be in her room doing who knows what, she's been there ever since she woke up," Yeji replied, leaving the hallway she entered a few minutes ago and walking towards the kitchen. It wasn't even 5 seconds after Yeji said that when you saw a pair of feet go down the steps that led to the third floor.

"Speaking of Helen of Troy..." Ryujin muttered next to you.

Yuna patiently walked down the steps, as if she were the princess of a fantasy kingdom whose suitors they were eager to see, but her face and aura didn't take her too far from that status tho. She looked utterly charming to you. Pink pants, tight cropped t-shirt with an evident push-up bra, and white sandals that let her pretty feet shine. As icing on the cake, she wore a little pink hair pin on one side of her head. Inevitably your gaze went straight to her delicious bare midriff, she seemed to notice, because when you looked up to meet her eyes, she followed them until your eyes met.

"Hi oppa," Yuna greeted you with a smirk, her hands clasped behind her as she joined you in the living room.

"Hi, my lady," you joked, returning the smirk.

"You were still in your panties when I left the bedroom before he arrived, how did you do it so fast?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, pouring herself apple juice into a glass.

"I saw him coming through the window," Yuna replied puzzled, as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, but you didn't answer my question," Yeji leaned her back on the table, then took a sip of the juice.

"Oh, I just wanted him to see me pretty and dressed up," the innocent little smile returned to her face, "Not like you guys who look like you just got kicked out of bed."

"I was," Chaery said quietly, eyes still on her phone. You held back your laughter.

"Whatever," Yuna ignored her, "Oppa, do I look pretty?" She waved her hair from side to side and then turned to look at you flirtatiously over her shoulder.

"Very pretty, yes," you agreed.

"I know, thanks," she winked at you and turned around again, "shall we go?"

"Uh? Where?" You turned to see Ryujin, with whom you exchanged glances, and she showed you that she was just as confused as you.

"I don't know, take me around," she shrugged, "although now that I think about it, I've been in need of shoes lately."

"Shin Yuna, you have a different pair of shoes for each day of the week," Ryujin said.

"I said I need shoes!" she protested, frowning, "come on oppa."

"Honey, did you forget that you are an idol and that you can't go out like that?" Lia also intervened, "wear a cap, mask and if possible, a coat."

"And you," Yeji said, staring at you, "make sure she doesn't do stupid things."

"She does them normally?" You looked at Yuna, who was playing dumb.

"No, but when she's around a cute guy," Ryujin said, with a mischievous chuckle, "go ahead," she patted your shoulder, and you were forced to get up from the couch.

"I'll wait for you outside, okay? I'll go start the car," you said, stopping in front of Yuna, she looked into your eyes, and you saw her back. Two big glowing orbs.

"Of course," she agreed.

You walked past her, and before you started down the stairs, you stopped.

"Uhm… can someone go with me?" you asked with a nervous giggle, "I don't remember how to get out."

"Don't worry, I'll go," Ryujin got up from the sofa and walked towards you to follow you down the stairs.

"God, thank you," you sighed.

Ryujin led you through the labyrinth they called home again, and when you were crossing the narrow corridor that led to the hall on the ground floor, she stopped you abruptly and pulled you towards her, causing you to pin her against the wall. You froze at the unexpected movement.

"I hate that my turn is still so far away..." she muttered, grabbing your waist, "I already want that dick inside me so bad..." Her hand went straight to your bulge, she squeezed it over your pants, and you were tempted to kiss her, but you thinked twice.

"Stop, Yuna's going to be here any minute," you muttered back, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from your crotch.

"So what? She and I could suck your cock right here," Ryujin's eyes were fixed on you with great desire and lust.

"No, cutie, I'm sorry, it's her turn, it's her decision," you took the hem of her sweater and brought it up to her waist, held it with one hand, and with the other you rubbed her pussy up and down over the panties. She seemed surprised but not upset, "Relax, I'll make it worth the wait."

"You son of a…" she leaned forward slightly to kiss you, but she bit her lip to contain herself, "get out of here, the gate has a manual control on the side, the password is 120219."

"Very kind, see you later!"

And so you did. You separated from her, left the hall and followed the same steps as when you entered with Yeji. You circled the pool, and went to the gate. You entered the key as it was told, and it began to open slowly.

You went outside and went straight to your car, started it, and drove right to the front of the house to wait for Yuna. The aforementioned left the house a few minutes later, wearing a cap, face mask and black coat, she looked to the sides as a precaution so that no one was watching, and she got into your car.

"Are you ready, oppa?" Yuna asked, pulling down her mask but covering her face even more with the cap, "nice car, by the way."

"Thanks, it cost me two years of savings," you laughed, making a U-turn and starting to drive out of the residential village, "any specific place you want to go?"

"Take me to the Starfield, they have a Louis Vuitton store where they sell very cute shoes!" Yuna answered excitedly, but you only worried.

"You do know that everyone goes to that mall on the weekends, right?" you asked, eyes on the road.

"Oh, come on!" she complained, "No one will recognize me, I will not take off my cap or mask at any time."

"I know you won't, but I fear for some obsessive fan recognizing you just by…I don't know, your body."

"Well, that wouldn't surprise me..." you turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow, "Okay okay, sorry," she laughed, "but I still want to go, I'm a human being! Not a fucking circus animal."

"You have a point," you nodded, returning your gaze to the road, turning around a street to head up the highway, "As you wish, princess."

———————————————————————

You arrived at the mall after a drive of about 10 minutes, it was difficult to find a place to park, but you took advantage of the fact that someone was just leaving to take their place. Yuna put her mask up again, and before she got out of the car you grabbed her wrist.

"Hey, no talking to high concentrations of people, you'd be too obvious," you warned, putting the car keys in your jacket pocket.

"Understood," she nodded, and then you released her to get out of the car.

As you walked through the mall you could feel the tension take over every fiber of your body. You couldn't believe you were on that site with such a massive public figure like her, but it wasn't being with her that made you nervous, it was the fact that any wrong move could get her and you in trouble. You really didn't have to, but you made sure to keep some distance from her just in case.

Yuna was obedient in not speaking, she just silently led you through the shops until you reached the Louis Vuitton store. The storefront was simple, but exuded elegance and exclusivity. And thank God, with the naked eye there were only 8 to 10 people inside.

You entered in the most discreet way you could, glued to the wall without attracting too much attention and going directly to the shoe area. It was then that Yuna moved away from you a bit to be able to carefully examine the shelves and tables. A store worker approached her to serve her, and within a few minutes, she took a pair of slingback shoes from a table with the distinctive brown color of Louis Vuitton and the logos of the brand as a print. The manager left with them, and then returned with the same ones but her size.

Yuna took off her coat and handed it to you, and as you sat down, she took off her sandals to replace them with the pair of shoes she had just chosen.

"Well? What do you think, oppa?" Yuna lifted her leg and made you grab her ankle to get a closer look at her shoe, but you knew well that she did it to make you remember what happened just days ago. The shoes were very pretty, they exposed her ankle and the vast majority of her feet, except for her toes, they certainly looked very pretty on her.

"They look nice on you, but I think you could go for something more… uncovered, perhaps?" you asked, releasing her ankle. Hearing that, the guy serving her showed her a variety of options. Yuna chose some that you recognized, they were champagne-colored eleanor slide sandals, which you also knew were fucking expensive.

She took off her previous shoes and put on her sandals. She repeated the process, and you grabbed her ankle once more.

"Something like that?" Yuna asked playfully, moving her fingers slowly to tease you. You stared at her foot, and your first instinct was to want to grab her toes and start kissing them, but you were in a public place, and you only controlled the flashbacks.

"Those are perfect, cutie, they're a yes," you nodded, and then released her ankle.

She wasn't happy with just one pair, so she had the worker show her more. This time, she chose double-strap sandals in the same color as the first pair she chose and with the same print.

Once again, she made you grab her ankle but with the other foot, and if you had liked the sandals she tried on before, you loved these. You pretended to look down each side of her foot to see the sandal, but it was just an excuse so you could caress her ankle and the sides of her foot with your thumbs. After a few seconds, you released her ankle.

"I must say… they're my favorites so far," you smiled, looking into her eyes, "you should take these, and those," you pointed to the previous sandals.

"Okay... but I think I need to go to the dressing room for a moment, I have some discomfort in my..." she made a move to grab her tits, but she didn't, "you know."

"Uh?" You frowned in confusion, "well, go ahead, I'll be waiting for you out here."

"That way, miss," the worker said, gesturing with his palm toward a hallway farther to the left.

"Thank you," Yuna gave him a small bow, and she turned to go to the dressing room.

Not a minute has passed since Yuna left when you received a photo from an unknown number to your phone. It was Yuna. And it was a photo that had just been taken in the dressing room mirror, which had nothing special, it was just her standing facing the front, without her mask or cap on. What really caught your eye was the caption: 'Hey oppa, I don't think I can do it by myself... can you help me?'

You put your phone away immediately, and the first thing you saw was the worker in front of you. You couldn't just stand up and go in the same direction as Yuna, you had to find an excuse. You thought about it for a few long seconds, so that in the end you ended up resorting to a cheap and typical excuse.

"Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?" you asked, standing up.

"Oh, that way sir," the guy pointed back again, but this time to the other side, to a hallway to the right. Very timely.

"Thank you."

You stood up and walked to where he told you to, but before entering the hallway you stopped, looking over your shoulder and making sure he wasn't looking to run with silent footsteps in the other direction.

The dressing rooms consisted of two rows, one on each side, making a total of 8 changing rooms with closed doors whose lights were all off except for one, one that was at the end of the row on the left, the furthest from the corridor. You walked with slow and silent steps, until you arrived in front of the door. You tapped twice with your knuckle.

"Yuna-ssi?" You called, almost in a whisper.

"Come in, silly, you don't have to be so quiet," she replied a tone higher than you, and then she opened the door for you to step inside.

"What do you need help with?" you were probably being very stupid, but at that moment you didn't get her intentions, who knows why. Of course this would not last long.

"Absolutely nothing..." Yuna took her coat from your hand and let it fall to the ground, getting dangerously close to you.

"So?" You saw her eyes, your head had already reacted, but you wanted to play the fool, "I don't quite understand why you made me come here."

"Don't you get the idea?" she hugged your torso with both hands, making sure to press her tits against your chest.

"Mmm, I don't know, I think you should cut to the chase and that's it," you put both arms around her shoulders and hugged her too.

"I want you to fuck me here and now, oppa..." she muttered without taking her eyes off you for a single second. She then withdrew an arm from around your body and reached down to grab the bulge over your pants.

"Did you go crazy, honey?" You couldn't help but smirk, "They could catch us at any time, it would be such a mess," you bit her lip, as she massaged your cock until it was rock hard.

"I promise I'll be silent... besides, I want to know how it feels to do it in a public place," saying that, she broke the distance between your faces and crashed her lips against yours.

"You better be quiet..." you whispered in the middle of the kiss, your breaths heaving with each passing second, "you better."

You removed her arms from around her neck and now put them around her waist, and she took hers from around your waist to wrap one around your neck as her hand continued to massage your cock. The kiss gradually warmed up, until your tongues began to intertwine inside your mouths. Yuna let out little moans from time to time, and your cock was already beginning to beg to be free.

One of your hands went to her ass, while the other continued to cling to her perfect waist, pressing your fingers into her creamy flesh. Soon that hand joined the other, and with both you gave her ass a strong squeeze that caused her to bite your lip and separate your lips from hers.

"Enough, I want that cock inside me," she reached with both hands to the button of your pants and undid them, and with a strong yank, she lowered them down to your knees including your boxers.

You complete her work, pulling your pants and boxers down to your ankles to get them off your legs. Already naked from the waist down, you kissed her again and grabbed her by the waist to push her against the wall in front of you, you cornered her against it, and then you made her turn around.

Instinctively she pulled her ass back, pressing it against the back of your cock, but you held her still, and began kissing her long neck as you ran your hands around her waist to reach the button of her pants and undo it, then you unzipped it, and grabbed the curb to lower them right down to her ankles. Your only obstacle now was a white thong, which showed off her wide hips and her round buttocks.

"A thong? I didn't know Shin Yuna was so slutty," you murmured in her ear, and she shuddered. You took two of your fingers between her buttocks and rubbed up and down her pussy, noticing that the fabric was beginning to get wet.

"But you like it, don't you?" she reached back and grabbed your cock, stroking it slowly, "I think he loves it," she looked over her shoulder at you with a smirk.

"You're a pretentious bitch, with all due respect," you rubbed her pussy for a few more seconds until you got tired of teasing. You grabbed the seam of her thong and lowered it roughly, not to mention nearly ripping it off. You made her get out of her pants and panties, and with your foot you dragged them until you left them next to your boxer and your pants.

"I know, I love being reminded," that was the last thing she said before you put your hand over her mouth.

"Spit," you ordered, and so she did, leaving enough saliva in the palm of your hand that you quickly brought it to your cock and rubbed it down the length of it until it was well lubricated. You returned your hand to her mouth, but this time for other reasons. You took your cock with your left hand, and took it between her buttocks to rub it up and down against her slit. Feeling this, she arched her back more and more, leaned her hands against the wall and left her ass at your disposal to do whatever you wanted with it.

You pressed your hand to her mouth firmly, making sure no sound came out of it as you gently pushed your hips forward, slowly leaving the first few inches of your cock inside her suffocatingly tight pussy. That she was going to be silent was all bullshit, at least at first, because as soon as she felt you inside her, she let out a moan that, if it hadn't been for the fact that it was suffocated against your hand, would have been heard throughout the room.

Yuna's entire body tensed, it was being difficult to fully get in due to how tight she was, but you were patient, and leaned back from time to time to push at least another inch inside her. You continued with the same procedure until half of your shaft was inside her, you looked into her eyes, and she just nodded, giving you the green light to make the final move.

You pulled out of her pussy one more time, spit into your hand, and salivated as much as you could on your cock before putting it back inside Yuna. This time you pushed more gently into her, and when you reached the previous point, it was as easy as slowly pushing your hips forward of her until you filled her completely with your flesh. Yuna let out another louder and longer moan, and you had to add another hand to her mouth to make her shut up once and for all.

You stayed inside her for a few seconds without moving, letting her tight walls gradually mold to your cock, and after a few seconds, you began to slowly move your hips back and forth, your cock moving completely in and out of her pussy.

Yuna's brow was furrowed as you fucked her at a slow and careful pace, trying to make as little noise as possible, but as much as you wanted to be quiet, having Shin Yuna pinned against the wall while you fucked her from behind warranted more energy from your part. Making sure you had a tight seal on her mouth with both of your hands, you began to move your hips faster, with thrusts that rocked her body back and forth with each crash of your pelvis against her ass.

You were incredibly tempted to do a lot of things, like pull her hair, or grab onto that pretty little waist while fucking her furiously, but you should have just kept at that pace, not slow but not aggressive either, perfect for a situation where you wanted to turn her crazy but not that crazy

Yuna seemed to remember what she had promised you a few minutes ago, as it was fairly easy for you to suppress her little whimpers of pleasure as you fucked her tight, wet pussy as fast as the situation allowed. That wasn't being enough for you, that's why you pulled her towards you and pressed her back against your chest, from that position it was easy for you to fuck her hard without making noise, and you did, starting to move your hips frantically. Inevitably that led to a double effort on your part to drown out her moans, but you didn't give a single fuck.

You were so immersed in your own pleasure that you did not even realize that a person had entered the dressing rooms, you had not heard the footsteps, but you did hear the knocks against your door. You stopped immediately, and Yuna's eyes widened as she looked towards the door to your left.

"Excuse me miss, is everything okay? You can't be in there that long," said the voice of the worker from the other side of the door.

"A-ah... yes! Everything is fine!" Being a bit bitchy, you continued to fuck her, but this time much more slowly and torturously, "I j-juuust need a couple m-more minutes," she gasped, "t-tell the g-guy that came with me that I-I won't be long."

"He went to the bathroom, miss, but when he gets back I'll tell him."

"Very kind, th-th-thank you."

There was silence, and the next thing you heard was the guy's footsteps walking away from the door, and consequently, from the dressing rooms.

"H-holy fucking shit, oppa..." she squeaked under her breath, looking over her shoulder at you, "that cock feels so… so good."

"And you'll feel better, come here."

You pulled out your cock, made her turn around and wrapped your arms around her slender body to give her an upward lift, she got the message and clung to your torso with her long legs, entwining them behind your back. You held her tight in the air, then leaned her back against the wall to push your cock back into her pussy. She was about to moan out loud, but you crashed your lips against hers in a fiery and deep kiss.

Yuna also grabbed onto your neck with both arms entwined around it, and she played with the hair at the nape of your neck between her fingers as you slammed her pussy against the wall. At this point, the noise you made was enough so that anyone passing near the door could perfectly hear the sound of your crotches colliding, but being prisoners of lust and adrenaline at the moment you didn't even think about it.

You untangled her legs from behind your back and went on to hold them yourself in the air, spreading them wide so you could fuck her pussy from the best possible angle. Yuna moaned like crazy against your mouth, and in response you just kept pumping in and out of her pussy without actually crashing your pelvis against her, but making sure that she felt your entire length go in and out of her pussy.

After a few seconds, Yuna grabbed your shoulders and dug her nails into them while her entire body shuddered in an unannounced orgasm. You held her legs tight while she writhed against the wall, and you didn't stop kissing her or fucking her for a single second.

Her pussy walls clenched around your cock so hard you thought she was going to rip you in half, but it felt so fucking good that you couldn't help but moan against Yuna's lips. Your moans overlapped each other, and you soon felt a tingle in your lower abdomen.

"Y-yuna... I'm going to cum, where-"

"Inside," she interrupted between little whimpers, while she was still past the last shimmers of her orgasm and she was looking into her eyes.

"But... are you sure?" you asked, slowing down the pace of your thrusts a bit.

"I prepared myself for this, idiot, just fucking do it," she sighed, smashing her lips against yours again.

You just let yourself go. You resumed your quick thrusts, clinging as tightly as you could to her legs with your fingers. Her pussy gave way for you, now less tight but wetter for your cock to slide in and out smoothly. It didn't take long for you to reach your peak of pleasure, it only took a few more hard pumps until you exploded inside her tight little pussy. You broke the kiss only to let a small moan into the air, moving slowly as you shot all your hot load into Yuna, who seemed to enjoy it as much as you did to feel the fluids rush inside her.

"Fuck… you came so much, oppa," she whispered, biting your lower lip, "it feels so good inside me."

Gradually you stopped between heavy breaths, and you left your cock inside for a few more seconds until you pulled it out very slowly, and as if it were a drain plug, your cum began to spill from inside her little by little to the ground under you two. You looked down, seeing the pool of thick white liquid that formed on the not at all subtle dark floor.

"I'm not cleaning that up," you murmured, your breath still ragged.

"We don't have to either," she chuckled, "thanks oppa, you already fulfilled one of my fantasies," she said with a smirk, giving you a little kiss on the nose.

"You're welcome, cutie," you finally put her down, and she avoided the best she could step on the cum, "You'll go out first, and you'll have to distract the worker while I go out."

"Understood," she agreed, "I'll take the opportunity to go pay."

"Are you really going to take those designer sandals?" you asked, picking up your pants and boxers to start dressing, "I seem to remember that they're fucking expensive."

"Honey, do you forget who I am?" she asked with the air of a pretentious bitch, you certainly weren't wrong a few minutes ago.

"Okay, I'm sorry my lady," you joked, watching her pull on her panties and then her pants.

"I'll see you outside, oppa," she stood in front of you, placed a hand on your chest and gave you a peck on the cheek, "be discreet, okay?"

"Didn't you forget something?" you asked, glancing at her cap and her mask.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she played dumb, as if she clearly hadn't been about to walk out like that, "don't be long," she said after putting on her mask and cap.

Yuna turned around and opened the door a little to see outside, and seeing that no one was coming, she went out and left you there alone. You waited around 5 or 6 minutes on the clock until you came out too, feeling like Austin Powers in one of his misdeeds. Luckily for you, the people who had entered the changing rooms were already inside their respective cubicles, and none of them had seen you.

You walked out of the hallway, and with your balls in your throat, you peeked out to make sure no one was looking your way. You ran to the other corridor, the one that led to the bathrooms, and you left there as if you had been there all this time. When you walked to the place where you were sitting before, you noticed that Yuna was no longer around, you even peeked over to make sure that she was still paying. You double checked that you had everything on you, wrapped Yuna's coat around your arm and walked out of the store, avoiding all possible eye contact with any worker or person in there.

As expected, Yuna waited for you outside the store patiently, with the bag from the store between her feet and her hands clasped behind her lower back. You quickly ran towards her.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" You looked around, making sure no one was paying too much attention to her, "Put your coat on!" you were probably overreacting, Korea was big enough for everyone in the mall to realize that she was who she was, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

"Oppa, calm down," she laughed, taking the coat from your arm and putting it on with all the patience in the world, "it's not that easy to get recognized as an idol, besides, I have black hair, I could be any average Korean girl. "

"You have a point, but I don't want to be risky," you took the bag from her, and pulled out your phone to check the time, "Hey, can we go now?"

"Yep, let's go!"

You left the mall in a matter of a few minutes, you went to your car, and you left the Louis Vuitton bag in the back seats. You opened the passenger door for Yuna to get in, and then you also got in to start the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the villa.

"When I drop you off at home tell Yeji to let me know when I can come back, okay?" you said, with your eyes on the highway.

"Oh, do you think the day is over for both of us?" Yuna asked, raising both eyebrows. She had taken off her cap, and she was looking at you with a quizzical expression, "You seem to have forgotten that you almost ate my feet a few minutes ago."

"And you almost didn't put them in my mouth, I think it's your fault too."

"It's just, you see...I really enjoyed our little session when we first met," she placed her hand on your thigh, "and I'd like to repay you well, oppa."

"Oh yeah? And how do you plan to do it?" you made sure you didn't have any cars in front or on the sides before turning to see her.

"I think…" she moved her hand up your thigh a little, near your crotch, "that cock would look really nice between my feet."

You had never stepped on the accelerator so violently in your life, but there was a first time for everything. You drove around 100 km/h on the highway, pulling out all your Baby Driver skills until you hit the road and relaxed your foot. Yuna could only laugh at your despair and sudden interest.

The scene would have been more spectacular if only you hadn't forgotten some crosses, Yuna had to remind you of the way to be able to continue and finally reach the girls' house. You parked the car right in front of the gate, turned it off, and got out to get the bag from the back seats. Yuna beat you to it, and went to open the gate with a remote control that she took out of her back pocket.

"There was a remote control this whole time?!" you asked, closing the back doors, locking the car and walking inside with her.

"Yup, but they were nowhere to find it," she laughed, "it was in my room all this time."

"Damn..." you sighed.

Yuna led the way, and you followed her into the house. You quickly went up to the second floor, and when you went up the stairs, just passing through the corridor was Yeji, who stared at you when you were about to go up to the third floor.

"Don't blame me if I walk in while you're doing it, it's my bedroom too," she warned, then walked out of sight toward the sofa.

"She's kidding, don't worry... or so I think," she hesitated for a moment, "well, follow me."

You followed Yuna up the stairs, took a hallway to the right, and went to one of the doors at the bottom. Yuna opened the door for you, and when you entered, you found a somewhat messy bedroom. There were clothes everywhere on both beds, including panties and bras of all colors and types.

"Did a tornado pass through here or what?" you said, taking a step forward and putting the bag down while Yuna got off her cap, mask and coat.

"Be thankful that we're messy and not dirty, it's just clothes," she got up on one knee on the bed on the right and began to gather all the clothes on top of it into a single pile and then dump it on the floor.

"Is it dirty clothes?"

"... Some," she said, looking down at the pile of clothes, "but let's not waste time on these things, come here, oppa."

She stood facing the bottom edge of the bed, and you closed the distance between the two of you by standing inches from her. You took her by her waist, and she wrapped her arms around your neck before joining your lips in an intense kiss, without intending to be delicate or tender. You planted your dominance from the start, pressing the flesh of her waist between your fingers as you dug deeper into her kiss. Yuna understood that foreplay wasn't even necessary at that point, so she simply sat on the edge of the bed and started undoing your pants once more. She lowered them to your knees, and you helped her off along with your boxers, freeing your still flaccid cock.

Yuna took off her shirt, and then she also took off her bra. Your gaze went straight to her tits, noting that she could very well be Itzy's second biggest after Yeji. You couldn't focus on her pretty tits for much longer as she took your weak cock and began to stroke it slowly.

"Oppa... be patient with me, okay?" she said, looking up, "I've never done this before."

"You don't have to worry, honey," you said, tucking her hair behind her ear and brushing her cheek with your thumb, "go ahead."

"Okay..." she looked down again at your cock, which was slowly starting to get hard thanks to the long fingers of Yuna's hand going up and down.

She leaned forward, and licked her lips before taking the tip of your cock into her mouth. You gasped, feeling the warm relief of her lips sucking slowly until your cock was fully erect. Yuna wrapped her fingers around your base and began to move her mouth little by little towards the middle of your shaft. She looked insecure, you could tell by how she looked into your eyes every few seconds, but the best you could do was nod with your head and keep rubbing her cheek and her hair.

That seemed to give her a little more assurance that she was doing a good job. She took you out of her mouth for a moment to get air, stroking your cock before taking it back inside her. This time she began to move her head at a more fluid and less leisurely pace, never going past the middle of your shaft, but that was enough for her to make you feel pretty good. She didn't give head as well as Yeji or Ryujin, but with a little practice she could become just as good.

During the first minute she dedicated herself to observing you carefully, noticing what movements you liked the most or what she liked that she did, and when she finally studied you, she began to move her head faster in a very messy blowjob. Her pretty pink lips glided smoothly over your hard cock now shiny from her saliva, and you took it upon yourself to let her know you liked it with little moans and facial expressions.

"Try to take more of it cutie..." you gasped, your hand on her head. She hesitated for a moment, but to your surprise, she began to push her head further, and further forward, until her nose was resting against your pelvis, "What the f… holy shit Yuna!" you moaned out loud.

She was able to take your cock down her throat for a few long seconds, but you also noticed that she was struggling as she did so, her face was scrunched up, and she was constantly making gagging sounds. Saliva flowed free from her mouth to her tits, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she took you out of her mouth with a long breath. Your cock was connected to her lips by thin threads of saliva, and you couldn't believe how unbelievably sexy yet cute she looked like that and with the pink bobby pin still attached to the side of her hair.

"Did you like that, oppa?" she said looking into your eyes as she quickly moved your hand up your cock.

"I fucking loved it, how can you do that with no experience?" you asked panting.

"I have a long neck, I don't know if that has anything to do with it," she collected the saliva from her lips with her free hand and returned it to your cock, stroking it with both hands.

"Honestly, I have no fucking idea, but come here, you deserve your due special attention, honey," you grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from your cock. Then you took her by her waist, and you made her get closer to the center of the bed and lie down on it.

You took off your jacket and hoodie, leaving yourself completely naked before climbing into bed with her. You placed yourself on top of her body, your two hands on either side of it. You lowered your face towards her neck, giving her small kisses and licks and slowly going down her attractive and marked clavicle. You stood there for a moment, but the two well-formed round mounds below caught your attention. Your mouth went right to one of her tits, sucking and licking her hard nipple while your hand massaged her other boob. Yuna moaned under her breath, and tangled her fingers in your hair as you now slowly lowered from the middle of her breasts to her abdomen. At that point, you made sure to spread a good amount of kisses all over her tummy and waist, and as you reached her lower abdomen, you used your hands to undo her pants, unzip them, and grab the hem of her pants and her panties, lowering both garments slowly until they were off her legs. Now both you and Yuna were completely naked in front of each other.

"Will you give me my special service, oppa?" she asked, biting her index finger, and picking up both of her legs to leave both of her feet in the air right in front of your face.

"Count on it, honey," you grabbed her by both ankles, and brought her feet up to your face to stick one of them directly into your mouth. You sucked on her toes one by one, placing special emphasis on her big toe. You used your tongue to salivate them and lick them all over, and once you were satisfied with one foot, you went straight through with the other to repeat the process.

With both feet salivated, you moved on to the second phase, which was to spread deep, wet kisses along her soles, the sides of her feet, and her ankles as well. You kept worshiping her feet for a few more minutes, until you began to move from her feet to her thighs, passing first through her tibia and her knee.

She instinctively spread her legs wide for you, revealing her pretty, shiny pussy. Your cock was more than ready to go in there one more time, but you had to hold back. You lowered your face until you were right in front of her slit, but that wasn’t your goal for now, but to plant more kisses both on the inside of her thighs and on the bottom, not resting until they were wet from your saliva.

Yuna let you have as much fun as you wanted with her pretty long legs, and so you did, even going so far as to kiss her just inches from her pussy, which was screaming to be eaten. After distributing a few more kisses, you stood up to take her by her ankles again, bring them together in front of you and begin to massage her feet slowly.

"Tell me, miss, do you want your pussy well eaten?" you asked, looking into her eyes and noticing that her face was slightly flushed, "or do you prefer a big cock that fills you up."

"I'm tempted by both options, sir," she played along, while you kept pressing your thumbs on her sole and on the back of her foot, "but I already tried one today, I'd prefer the other option."

"As you wish, ma'am," you released her feet, separated her legs, and leaned forward while holding onto her thighs.

You breathed hot breath over her wet pussy, causing Yuna to shiver a little on her mattress. You played with her for a few more seconds, kissing and licking the contours of her slit until you finally planted your tongue flat between her folds, giving her a slow upward lick that made her moan.

After the first lick you began to move your tongue slowly up and down, tasting her silky folds to give her clit a very light suction. Yuna grabbed your hair and started moaning constantly. You kissed far and wide without stopping to use your tongue for a single moment, Yuna's fingers got tangled in your strands, and you responded by licking her pussy faster now.

In no time you were eating Shin Yuna's delicious pussy for dinner. You focused on her clit right away, giving it frantic lashes with your tongue. Her moans quickly turned into squeals of pleasure, and she began to arch her back every time you touched one of her sensitive spots. You looked up, watching her chest heave up and down as she played with her own tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

You pressed your fingers harder against the flesh of her thighs, making sure she didn't move them for a single second despite the fact that she had already had some prior reflexes. Her adorable whines were music to your ears. You continued to attack her clit with the tip of your tongue, occasionally dipping down her folds to collect her delicious fluids. You decided to stick a bit of your tongue inside her entrance, and as soon as you did, she let out a louder squeal. Noticing that she had enjoyed it, you left your tongue inside her and began to move it in circles as fast as you could. Yuna pulled your hair so hard you thought she was going to rip it out, and it wasn't long before she exploded in your mouth.

Yuna squirmed like a rag doll on the bed, and you held her tightly against the mattress so that her pussy wouldn't move away from your mouth while you stuck your tongue out of her and licked her folds from top to bottom. You didn't stop eating her pussy, you just lowered the intensity considerably until her orgasm gradually reduced her spasms, that's when you released her thighs, which she simply dropped to each side of your body.

You gave her pussy a few more licks, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and straightened up to meet her eyes.

"Satisfied, ma'am?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll be more satisfied when you use my legs and feet to cum, oppa..." she muttered between heavy breaths, seeing your hard cock still sticky from her saliva.

You didn't even think twice before grabbing her legs and putting her on her side. You lifted her left leg, spit on your cock, letting it rest against her right leg, then lowered the leg you'd lifted back down to leave your shaft in a smooth sandwich of soft flesh. Yuna looked into your eyes, bit her lower lip and looked down, seeing the tip of your cock slightly protruding from between her thighs.

Without taking too much time you began to rock your hips back and forth, letting your cock slide completely in and out of her between her pretty, perfect thighs. You left your left hand clinging to her small waist, and the other went straight for her boob, which was starting to jiggle as your thrusts got faster and faster.

Her thighs definitely made your cock absolutely nothing to miss from her pussy, it was just as tight and soft but in a different way that was also driving you fucking crazy. Your hand squeezed her breast firmly, while your thrusts began to shake her from front to back thanks to the impact of your pelvis against her thighs.

With each of your pumps your cock also rubbed her wet pussy with the left side of it, which added an extra bit of utter and pure pleasure to your senses. You let go of her breast and her waist, only to grab her ass cheek and give it a hard squeeze, followed by a spicy spank that made her squeal. You kept your hand on her ass as you continued to use Yuna's legs for your own pleasure, and it felt so good that you closed your eyes and moaned.

"Use my feet oppa… use my feet and cum on them," she pleaded between gasps.

You did not answer anything and you limited yourself to comply with her wishes (which were also yours). You stopped the thrust of your hips and pulled your cock out from between her thighs, grabbed her around her waist and made her lie on her stomach. Yuna propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at you, lifting her feet to place them both around your throbbing cock. Once again you spit on your hand, but this time to bring it to her feet and make them as slippery as possible.

You grabbed both of her feet and held them together, pressed against your cock to resume your frantic hip swings. Your cock slid in a very fucking hot way between her sexy feet, and both you and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Your hands couldn't go anywhere else but her feet, but you didn't care, having that perfect view of her wide ass, her hot back and her lust-filled face was more than enough to complement your ecstasy.

Her pretty feet served as your cock sleeve for the next two minutes, and between strong and intense thrusts, you began to feel blood rushing against your cock. You pumped a few more between the soles of her until you quickly stopped and pulled your shaft out of there, keeping a grip on her ankles with one hand while with the other you quickly jerked your cock off.

"That's right, oppa… give my little princess feet all your cum, please!" she moaned, watching as your hand quickly rubbed your cock.

As soon as she finished that sentence you exploded, releasing thick, hot streams of white liquid directly onto her now slightly red feet. You moaned out loud and closed your eyes for just a second as you emptied your balls between her toes and her sole. You opened your eyes again when the last jets came out of your tip, seeing Yuna's feet painted white everywhere. Your breathing was agitated. You released her ankles, and let your cock rest throbbing against her toes.

You two were silent for a few long seconds, where only both heavy breaths could be heard, when suddenly the bedroom door opened. Yuna was startled, but you were so exhausted that you didn't even flinch.

"Oops, sorry guys," Yeji apologized, walking between the beds to open a drawer in the nightstand and take out a charger, "Uh, you want toilet paper, a wet wipe, anything?"

"You could clean my cock with your mouth, right?" you asked rather boldly, raising your head to look at her sideways.

"I would, but it would lead to other things, and I don't have time for that right now darling," she wailed, then turned to Yuna, "Did you enjoy your feet being used, you little slut?"

"Shut up and give me the wet wipes, please," Yuna whined, her face flushed red between pleasure and embarrassment.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming, don't be a crybaby," she went to a hairdresser they had in the bedroom and took the packet of wet wipes to toss it to one side of you, "Oh, by the way," she saw you, hand on the doorknob, "you can stay the night if you want, our manager won't come tomorrow and we'll watch a movie."

"But I didn't bring any more clothes..."

"So what? You can walk around naked if you want, none of us will care."

"Well, if you say so," you sighed, taking a wet washcloth and beginning to clean Yuna's feet as Yeji left the room.

"I really thought she wasn't going to come in here, what a bitch..."

"Are you satisfied now, ma'am?" you asked, now using another wet wipe for the same job.

"Quite a lot, oppa," she nodded with a wide grin, "but... can you come kiss me?"

"As you wish," you put the wet wipes aside, and went to lie down next to her body. You wrapped your arms around her body, brushed a few strands of hair from her face, and pressed your lips against hers, beginning with a kiss that would last for at least twenty more minutes.

———————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Here's a treat for the little jerk who insulted and annoyed me by asking me for a "part two" for Post Stress Therapy. Oh right, I blocked him lmao.

I have nothing to add here, but this is a special gift for the most die-hard lovers of Yuna's legs and feet ;).

If you, dear reader, are interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

#yuna smut #itzy smut #kpop smut #smut #fanfic smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #male reader #x male reader

[chrollohearttags]

that cabin eren look has changed the trajectory of my life and given me the stupidest idea ever lmfaogekgs! Just walk with me for a minute

content: musician au ofc, sexual references, reverb lore (?), ony, armin and connie being aggravating as hell lmfaooo, comedy them being big ass kids, ony using the n word (nb’s keep it cute)

📝: I’m reporting live from the ER so I need something to keep me entertained. 😭 this is so dumb, forgive me.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

“Nah, tell them folks the full story! Go ahead.”

“Look at him getting embarrassed. He’s so cuteee.”

the sound of clicking keys and controllers rang out over the headsets, among the loud laughter and chatter coming from those wearing them. The four illustrious artists, EJ the Don, Armin Hammer, Prince Cee and Ony The God; forming the collective known as Dead Boys Society were normally coming together to perform their many hits, or even comprise music. But tonight? They had a whole other reason..or two rather!

“Tell your mama’s story, bitch. Ain’t nothing to talk about.”

on one of the very rare occasions that the gentleman accrued some free time, they decided to host a Twitch stream. Playing video games, previewing new music and just having a good time. That was until they decided to bring them out…the infamous photos.

Ony, who was in full blown hysterics, falling out of his chair in laughter as he hoisted his phone to the camera. He could barely even be contained. “Look at this nigga, bro! You couldn’t tell him shit.” And the others followed suit. “Malibu’s Most Wanted looking ass.” Armin was just in hysterics, trying to cover his face. Eren, however was not as enthused! “Say sum’, Armin. I dare you and I’m going dead in your shit when I see you again.” “Don’t get mad at me because you were the mall whore. Getting passed around.” Which was so ironic coming from him! Because during the stream, the conversation of their previous lives and how they met came about. Ony divulged that he and Connie had known each other a long time and even went to school together. The pair played basketball as well. When they were seventeen, they began working at the Bayside Mall in a shoe store. Which is where they met EJ, who had just enrolled at their high school as well. The three became really close and eventually that they not only shared an affinity for sneakers but music also. They’d compose songs, make beats and mess around during their shift. When the three of them worked together, the store was packed to the brim, even with a line out the door. Due in part to their main attraction: the cute boy from Jersey with the green eyes and the voice of angel. At any given time, there would R&B and rap playing and he would know every word. Definitely a rarity in the urban area! Connie, who vividly remembered him wanting to be in the stock room but the manager insisting on Eren being on the floor. Thanks to Ony’s suggestion! Because of that, every girl from here to Opa Locka wanted a piece, even telling him they wanted his baby! It was utter chaos. “(Y/N), ma. I’m sorry but your man had hoes. In there serenading them girls and they used to eat that shit up. They loved him. He had like three baby mamas and four step kids before he left.” Rolling his eyes, Eren would take a sip of his drink and try to interject. Defending his honor because lord knows no one else would! “Nah, they were trying to exploit me. Pimping me out for corporate gain. Bunch of bastards.” And (y/n) was just enjoying this little storytime of your man. Exposing his younger self. So when Ony showed the photos of him in his uniform with a gold chain, a tapered fade and Nikes on, posing with his fingers up, you couldn’t help but to laugh. He was just as adorable then as he was now! It most certainly wasn’t his proudest moment. Hence why he loved having hair long now.

“A white boy with a fade singing Pretty Ricky and Trey Songz and you thought we wasn’t gon’ put that nigga front and center? That was our meal ticket. We had to do something.”

and you fell clean over, unable to hold it together! Along with the chat who was spamming a plethora of ‘LMAO’ ‘s and scrambled letters. A mess! “If it means anything, baby. I think you look handsome.” Squeezing his cheeks and cooing to him as consolation. And he was not trying to hear it.

“It don’t mean shit, but thank you, princess.”

He blocked everybody that night and refused to give you any dick for a week straight because of this lil’ escapade. 😭 “I thought shit was funny, what happened?”

#cherry’s works 🍒✨ #aot x black reader #black fem reader #musician x influencer au #aot au #eren x black fem!reader #black fanfiction #eren x black reader #musician au #aot onyankopon #connie springer #armin arlert #black reader #they should’ve never showed us that version of him #aot imagines #aot drabbles #aot headcanons #eren headcanons #crack headcanons #humor post #humor is my coping mechanism #eren jaeger #eren yeager #he was mad y’all 😭 #aot #snk au #snk headcanons #snk imagines #reverb series #eren aot

[fandomxpreferences]

Dirty Little Secret

Part 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader, Best friend! JJ x Pogue!Reader (All over 18)

TW: angst, brief mention of weed and alcohol

Summary: You and Rafe are in a secret relationship, but it all comes to a head when a girl gets a little too close at a party.

Word Count:4.1k

You've been dating Rafe for almost a year, and it's been filled with love, lust, and laughter. You're both happier than you've ever been but the catch is, no one knows. It had started off as a mutual agreement to keep your relationship a secret. 

You're a pogue and he's a kook; neither of you wanted the drama that would come from your unlikely pairing to interfere. However, as time passed and the two of you realized you were in love, the truth remained hidden. 

You've always understood, really you have. You've each got reputations, and Rafe had insisted that Ward finding out about you would threaten your safety. You trust him, so you've never questioned his motives. 

Standing here now at a party, doubt begins to flood your system, the nauseating scent of weed mixed with beer doing nothing to help your anxiety as your mind reels. 

Rafe is constantly getting attention from female suitors and it's never really bothered you before. So you're not sure why bile is rising in your throat as you watch a girl twirl her hair and blink up at your boyfriend. 

Women don't know he's taken, and you're well aware that your boyfriend is a beautiful man. You've told him many times that he could easily be a runway model. So it's never surprised you that he has a long line of women dying to get him into bed. 

What does surprise you is the fact that Rafe is entertaining it this time. You stand frozen in place as his arm wraps around the blonde woman's shoulder and his head tilts back as he laughs without a care in the world. 

Usually, the two of you have an agreement not to be seen together. It's just easier that way; it eliminates any suspicion or questions. That flies out the window as your feet carry you forward on a mission, and you stop just short of the giggling duo. 

Rafe notices you immediately and though he's good about keeping a poker face, you know him better than you know yourself and recognize the concern and confusion swimming in his blue eyes that you so often drown in. 

"Hey, Rafe." 

Your smile is tight as you stare up at him, and in the same way you can read him like a book, he immediately knows that you're upset. 

"Hey."

The woman looks between the two of you with pinched eyebrows before returning her attention to your boyfriend. 

"Who's this, Rafey?"

You resist the urge to rip out her extensions that probably cost more than your car and tilt your head to the side. 

"Yeah, Rafey. Who am I?"

Now, Rafe knows that he's playing with fire. He can see the storm brewing in your normally bright eyes and wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shout how much he loves you at the top of his lungs. 

However, for the first time, you two are playing very different games, and his next move is dangerously miscalculated. 

"Just a friend." 

The words taste like acid as they leave his tongue, and he knows he fucked up the exact second he sees them register in your mind. Your gaze hardens into stone and the usual love and affection that your eyes hold for him are nowhere to be found. 

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes so far you can barely see while giving a short nod. 

"Just a friend. Right." 

You know you're being unfair; the two of you have had set rules since the beginning and you just swapped the handbook on a moment's notice. However, the logical side of you doesn't think it's too much to ask for your boyfriend to, at the bare minimum, not flirt unabashedly in your face. 

This woman isn't even from here, she's clearly a touron. You can't for the life of you figure out why the hell it would matter if he told her that you're his girlfriend. 

Last night, he was whispering under the stars about how he wants to marry you one day and today you're just a friend. The whole dynamic suddenly feels wrong, and you're hit with a painful realization that you deserve more. 

The two of you stare each other down for a moment before you turn on your heel and storm off. You only get a few feet away before Rafe's large hand encircles your wrist and pulls you to the side away from prying ears. 

"Hey, what was that about?"

You look up at him in disbelief before scoffing and he scowls. 

"We agreed to keep our relationship hidden. We shouldn't even be together right now." 

You ignore the searing pain that his insensitive statement sends through your chest and will the tears to disappear. His features soften when he notices you're about to cry, and he raises his hand to wipe at your eyes. 

Your body instinctively lurches backward as if he's holding a flame to your face, and hurt flashes across his sculpted features. 

"Yeah, Rafe. Hide it, not blatantly lie about it! We certainly didn't agree to openly flirt with other people."

You curse the way your voice cracks and cross your arms over your chest as if they're a brick wall creating a barrier between the two of you. 

"Y/N, you agreed-" 

You cut him off with a shake of your head and take another step back. 

"I know what I agreed to. I just didn't think that I'd have to keep up the ruse even after we were well established. I mean, we love each other Rafe! I want to be able to hold my boyfriend's hand and kiss him in public!" 

Rafe sighs and runs a hand over his head, clearly getting frustrated with this whole situation. 

"I thought what we have is enough." 

He's trying to keep himself in check, but his patience is wearing thin, and a headache is brewing thanks to the impending argument.

"Well, it's not anymore. I don't care about a stupid fucking class war, I just want you. All of you. If I can't have that, then what the fuck are we doing? There's no future if you can't even be seen with me. What are you gonna do? Marry me in secret and we'll just live in separate houses?"

The angry exterior comes crashing down as the weight of your words crushes him, and he wishes he could just take all of this back. 

"What are you saying?"

He's scared to ask the question and completely terrified of your answer. 

"I'm saying choose. Me or your precious image."

There's a heavy tension that hangs in the air, and with each second he doesn't answer your heart breaks a little more. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn't have even hesitated and it occurs to you that maybe you love him more than he loves you. 

Maybe he doesn't love you at all.

You tilt your head to stare up at the stars, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course you would never get a happy ending with Rafe. You're a pogue; you were never going to be more than that to him. 

How foolish of you to let him in and allow yourself to believe he could feel something real for you. His father always said 'Play with trash and you'll get dirty.' 

That's all you've ever been; a disposable fling until someone better came around. Someone deemed worthy of wearing his ring and having the name Cameron. 

You focus on a single blade of grass sticking out of the ground and swallow thickly. 

"Well, I guess your silence is my answer. Good enough to fuck, but never good enough to actually love." 

The air is sucked out of his lungs at your statement and his world feels like it's burning all around him. 

"Do you really believe that?" 

His voice is so soft and tender that you almost let yourself believe love and pain are lying under the surface. 

"You haven't shown me anything to prove otherwise."

He's seconds from falling to his knees to beg for forgiveness and pour his heart out when you turn and walk away without glancing back. 

"Where are you going?"

Your steps don't falter for a moment and you're still just close enough for him to make out your answer.

"Back to my side. I'd rather be in the company of people who aren't ashamed at the mere thought of being associated with me."

Every fiber of Rafe's being is screaming at him to chase after you, but his feet feel like lead and he watches helplessly as you disappear out of sight. 

"Fuck!"

You don't know how long you've been walking, but you're interrupted by the sound of a dirt bike. A small sliver of hope ignites that maybe it's Rafe, but is quickly extinguished when you remember you texted your best friend. 

You shouldn't be surprised that he came looking for you; there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. There's a fleeting thought about the fact that JJ drove around for god knows how long to find you when Rafe couldn't even be bothered to walk after you, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. 

You're sure you look a mess with windswept hair and mascara trailing down your cheeks but you don't care. As far as you know, your relationship just ended, and you're beyond distraught. 

With each step you took, you silently prayed that Rafe would appear and sweep you off your feet. But this isn't a movie, and you're not the main character who gets the guy. 

JJ's heart shatters at the sight of you tucked into yourself. You look so small and frail, and he doesn't need to ask to know that something happened between you and Rafe. 

He's the only one who knows; you've never kept a secret from him and truthfully you needed someone to go to about your relationship. 

He shrugs off his jacket and carefully places it on you before zipping it up. No words are exchanged; they're not needed. The two of you have always been kindred spirits, understanding each other even when you don't understand yourselves. 

"Let's get you home, you're trembling." 

He hands you his helmet and you climb on the back of his bike silently, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly. Your head lays on his back in between his shoulder blades and he takes off, speeding through the dark streets toward the only place other than Rafe's arms you've ever truly felt like you belong. 

He pulls up to John B's house and you trek inside to clean up while he rejoins the group in the hot tub. He's always given you space and you're grateful. The last thing you need right now is an interrogation and he knows that. 

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror and you sigh at your splotchy cheeks and puffy eyes. You wash your face with cold water and change into something comfier, raiding JJ's drawer in the guest room for a pair of his sweatpants and an old t-shirt. 

You briefly consider just crawling into bed and sobbing, but decide that you won't let the rest of your night be ruined. It's been a while since you've gotten to hang out with your closest friends, and you know JJ will have you smiling and laughing by the end of the night. 

Your best friend's face lights up when you reappear and he beckons you with a bright smile. They've moved away from the hot tub, now slotted around a large bonfire. 

You return his grin the best you can and shuffle toward him, taking a seat by his side. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you into him before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. 

You snuggle in closer, letting his bare chest warm you up as the aroma of his woodsy cologne mixed with scorched wood fills your nose. It feels so safe, and you relax into the familiar sensation. 

Everyone is laughing loudly and passing around a joint as you stare into the flames. You're entranced by the way sparks fly and smoke billows as the fire dances in front of you. It's comforting and you lose yourself in your thoughts as you watch the embers float away. 

JJ notices your blank stare as you focus on the way the fire turns from blue to orange to yellow and he gives you a small nudge. 

"Earth to Y/N. You with me?"

There's a teasing lilt to his voice thinly disguising his worry and you smile up at him.

"Yeah, I'm with you J." 

His hand squeezes your waist and he lowers his voice so that only you can hear him.

"I can see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. Wanna talk about it?" 

Your head shakes from side to side as you finally take the lit joint and inhale deeply before handing it back to him. 

"No, I just want to have fun and not think for a while." 

His dimples pop out as he grins down at you and he laughs. 

"Well, you're in luck. Making you laugh and not thinking are my two specialties." 

He stays true to his word, and within the hour you're riding a light buzz and laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Any thought of your fight with Rafe is miles away and joy swells in JJ's chest as he looks at your bloodshot eyes that are leaking tears of laughter instead of sorrow. 

You're all so caught up in the moment that you don't even hear the roaring engine of Rafe's bike. He's spent the last two and a half hours in agony, pacing around his room with relentless tears and a runny nose. 

He wanted to run after you and track you down, but he also didn't want to make it worse. He figured it was best to give you space, and he waited as long as he could before he couldn't bear it anymore. 

He checked your location to confirm his suspicions and set off to get his girl. The two of you always had your location on, something that was done as a safety measure. You had completely forgotten about it, and silently kick yourself for not just turning your phone off. 

"What are you doing?"

Everybody stiffens when his voice cuts through the conversation and you turn slowly to look at him, still in JJ's arms. You don't miss the way his hold tightens or the way his muscles flex and subconsciously lean further into him. 

Everyone else is genuinely confused, lost as to why the oldest Cameron could possibly be standing in front of them right now. 

Your eyes meet Rafe's and your stomach lurches at the mixture of anger and betrayal in his ocean-colored irises. You don't answer, the haze still fogging your reaction time, and he repeats his question with a little more urgency. 

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

Your brain seems to kick into gear and rage overtakes your senses. 

"Just friend things." You bite, and Rafe physically recoils as you throw his own term back in his face. 

You both know the implication behind your words and while you know that nothing is going on between you and the blonde surfer, Rafe doesn't. You expect your boyfriend - or maybe ex-boyfriend, you suppose- to flip shit, but instead, he just looks anguished. 

You take in his appearance and your heart squeezes when you see he looks even worse off than you are. His eyes are red and swollen, there are dried tears on his face and neck, and if he still had his long hair you're sure it would be a disheveled mess from constantly running his hands through it. 

By the grace of god, no one says anything even though you know they have a million questions and you internally battle yourself. You want to jump into Rafe's arms and apologize, but then again, what the hell do you have to apologize for?

He takes a tentative step forward and you squeeze JJ's knee when he shifts to stand. Rafe's eyes dart down at the movement and his gaze slowly lifts back up to meet yours. He's silently pleading with you, and against your better judgment, you cock your head to tell him you'll talk off to the side. 

He follows you to a tree that's just out of listening range and you turn to look at him. He feels sick as he takes in your appearance. Your hair is in a bun and he can tell by your glossed-over eyes that you're high. What really catches his attention though is the fact that JJ's clothes are swallowing your frame whole. 

He didn't realize how much he hates the image of you in another man's clothes, and he can't stomach the idea that this will be his reality if he can't change your mind. 

He only ever wants you to wear his t-shirts, and though he's always given you shit over the fact that you've stolen every hoodie he's ever let you wear, he's now more than willing to give you his entire closet if it means he never has to feel this way again. 

All he's been able to think about is you being alone and broken since you walked off. It hadn't even occurred to him that you weren't alone and that if you ended things you have people to come back to. You're all he has. 

It didn't cross his mind that you would move on, and he'd have to watch you love someone else from afar. The idea drives him insane, and he's willing to go to the ends of the earth to prevent it from becoming reality. 

If you told him right now to strip down and do a jig in front of the entire population of OBX, he would if it meant he doesn't have to spend the rest of his life mourning the one that got away.

You stare up at him defiantly as he squirms, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he tries to think of what to say. 

"You and JJ…"

His question tapers off and you let it hang in the air and choke him for a second before answering. 

"Nothing happened, I just said that to hurt you. Did it work? Thinking that I could have something with someone else?"

Rafe forgot how cold you can be when you've been scorned, the ice in your voice penetrating his veins and freezing his blood solid. 

"Yes. Remarkably well."

Your eyes rake over his figure with scrutiny and you resist the urge to crumble under his spell. 

"Good."

It's harsh, cruel even, but apparently he needs to be reminded that you know your worth and could easily find a replacement. It's a lie you tell yourself; you know that no one could ever replace Rafe, not really. Your soul is intricately entwined with his in ways you didn't know was possible. 

He gives a curt nod and drops his eyes to the ground, unable to take the heartless glare you're giving him. 

It's a sight to see; big bad Rafe Cameron insecure and floundering. It's a side of him that only you're able to bring out. He finally met his match; the one person out of eight billion that can bring him to his knees without a single word. 

"I'm sorry."

He sounds like a scared little boy, and against your will, your heart sinks. 

"For?"

An apology isn't enough; you need to know that he's aware of what he's apologizing for. You need to hear the words and acknowledgment leave his mouth. 

"For flirting with that girl, and for making you feel like you're not worthy. Like you're not important to me and that I'm ashamed of you. Of us. I hate myself for making you think I don't love you."

You let the words sink in for a moment and shift on your feet, debating your next words. 

"You have my heart in the palm of your hands, Rafe. I just never thought you'd intentionally crush it."

He loathes how small and meek your voice is, completely consumed by heartache. He'd take you raging and screaming at him over crying because of him any day. 

"I know. I'm a fucking idiot, and it seems like no matter what choice I make it's always the wrong one. I need you to know that I'm trying. I'm trying to be better for you. You're it for me, Y/N. I'll do anything to make you see that, to feel that. Please, tell me you know that."

A single tear slips down your face and you turn your head to look out at the waves. 

"I know." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper, and more salty tears stain your cheeks when Rafe's hand reaches out to cup your chin and turn your head to look at him. 

"Please, I promise that we can go public. I'll scream it from the rooftops, I don't care. Whatever you need, I'll do it. Nothing and no one is more important than you. You're part of me, and I think if I lost you I'd lose myself too." 

In seconds, the wall that went up around your battered heart comes crashing down and you step forward into his arms. He engulfs you immediately, holding you with such force you're not sure how you can breathe. 

You register wetness on your hair and lock your arms around his neck. Your hands play with the short hair at the nape of his neck and he cries even harder. 

Despite what he's put you through, you're still willing to comfort him and he doesn't understand why. Your love for him is so pure and all-consuming, he's sure he isn't worthy. 

The pogues watch intently, shocked by the sobs wracking the man's body. They've never seen Rafe show any emotion other than anger, and despite their initial disgust when he showed up, they figure you must be something special to elicit such raw vulnerability from the kook king. 

"I don't deserve you. It was never you that's not good enough. It's me." 

You only squeeze him tighter, pain squeezing your chest at his genuine despair.

"That's not true, Rafe. You're an idiot sometimes, but you're human. You're allowed to make mistakes, you just have to own up to them and rectify the situation."

He whimpers at your reassurance, the sentiment foreign to him. His entire life he's been held to a standard of perfection. He isn't used to getting a second chance, he barely gets a first.

"Don't ever do some dumb shit like this again, Rafe." 

Your watery voice is muffled by his broad shoulder and he nods his head in the crook of your neck. The way he practically has to fold in half to place his face against your shoulder would almost be funny if it wasn't such a heartfelt moment. 

Sarah snaps a picture of the tender affection and smiles at her phone, just happy to finally see her brother act like a human being. 

"I promise, baby. I never want to be the cause of your tears and pain again. It hurts me."

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes before you tell the Pogues you're heading out. 

"Are you okay?" 

JJ is staring daggers at your boyfriend as he asks and you give him a tight hug. 

"I'm good, JJ. Pinky promise."

He nods and lowers his lips to your ear. 

"Call me if you need anything." 

You press a kiss to his cheek and smile before nodding. 

"Always." 

You and Rafe make your exit, and for the first time, he takes you to Tannyhill to spend the night. Usually, the two of you crash at one of the unused estates, hidden away from the public. 

Luckily, Ward and Rose are away for the weekend so you have time to come up with a game plan and mentally prepare for the nuclear fallout. 

You're just settling into Rafe's bed wearing one of his Lacrosse hoodies from the academy when your phone dings. You frown at the Instagram notification and click it, your mouth dropping open when you see the post you were tagged in. 

It's the picture Sarah took and sent to Rafe, along with a few more of the two of you at the beach and kissing.

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you see the likes growing and read the caption. 

My entire heart

Rafe emerges from the bathroom as if he didn't just make the most shocking announcement Figure Eight has ever heard, and you stare at him dumbfounded. 

"That was fast."

He laughs and shuts his phone off as it starts to explode with texts and crawls into bed. 

"I'm not spending another second without the entire world knowing you're my girl."

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[retroellie]

Have you thought about something to twisted games but reader reveals that noone has ever went down on her and darl wants to be the first and only one to do it?

Summary: Daryl is surprised to hear you had never been gone down on... He wants that changed immediately

A/N: I've been dead again I know, but y'all I'm in college now, and lemme tell you... I'm so tired of writing essays :( i needed a break from them and college life so have this :) also, the gif looks goofy as hell... it's the first time I've made a gif on my laptop lmao

Warnings: Cunnilingus, pussy-eating, fingering, some dirty talk

Word Count: 2.6K

It had been a lazy day today, at least as lazy as it could get in the apocalypse. You had woken up and helped out with gardening while Daryl went out on a small run with Michonne but then you had both met back at your shared home. You had come home first and you weren’t there long before you were in the shower. That’s where Daryl had caught you, he didn’t think you would mind if he joined you. It was an innocent shower. Surprisingly, Daryl helped wash your hair and he allowed you to wash his back gently as you didn’t want to hurt the scars lying there, as if they would hurt anymore.

The relationship was new, like 2 months. You guys were still finding things about each other, like his scars. You hadn’t known about his abusive childhood or the scars that reside on him, not everyone knew. You found out only a month ago when you guys first had sex, you had been underneath him, feeling him quite literally stretching you open. You had run your hands down his back and felt the raised scars, at first it didn’t register what had happened but you had suspicions. Then after, you were laying in bed watching him get dressed and that’s when you saw them.

You kept quiet about it, not wanting to upset him but you knew. So everything was just new to y’all, it was all so exciting and nerve-racking. After your shower, you both took a long much-needed nap. Daryl had his head buried in your chest as he literally laid on top of you. You loved how comfortable he had gotten with you, he was once cold towards you and would barely touch you or let you touch him. Now he was always on you and he always craved your touch.

When Daryl had woken up though he had gotten a little too needy, walking you up with kisses along your neck as he pressed his knee against your cunt. You had woken up pretty fast, the pleasure coursing through your body and making your body heat up. So now here y’all were, Daryl tongue fucking your mouth as you sleepily bucked your hips into his leg. It was pure heaven at that moment.

It all had been normal enough, nothing new simply because Daryl didn’t want to be too rough with you, especially after being so laid back all day but soon his kisses had trailed off down your neck. He made his way down your chest, then your stomach, then your thighs. You were quick to push him off, not trying to freak him out but you were confused as to why he had his face down there.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confusion reeked through your comment.

Daryl squinted his eyes at you, sitting back on his knees as he shared your confusion. He thought maybe you had been kidding or maybe you just didn’t want to do that right now, maybe you just wanted to dry hump him and then fall asleep once again.

“What does it look like I’m doing…” he chuckled, hands settling back on your thighs but he stayed sitting on his knees.

“I don’t know… that’s why I asked.” You threw back at him, it sounded mean but you were really just confused.

You hadn’t been with many people, you weren’t too experienced. Maybe 2 partners at least and one of them you only had sex once with. You didn’t know much about sex and honestly, Daryl taught you a lot within the month you guys had been going at it. He taught you how to position your mouth while giving a blow job so you don’t choke, how to roll your hips instead of bouncing yourself when riding someone, how to rub your clit teasingly while touching yourself because it makes you cum better and most importantly how to speak up in bed, demanding what you wanted and communicating that towards him. You knew what these things were, you just had to be taught it. But this… whatever Daryl was trying to do was new to you.

“Has no one ever gone down on ya before?” He asked, watching as your face contorted into more confusion as if that was possible. “Ya know, like ate you out?”

You shook your head, considering the fact you had never heard of these terms or had anyone face level with your cunt like Daryl had just done, you probably hadn’t. The thought made Daryl kind of upset, Daryl had remembered the first time you had openly admitted to having your first orgasm with him so he shouldn’t be surprised. In all honesty, he hasn’t been too big of a fan of your ex-boyfriend.

Daryl had met him, he was some college motherfucker who was still in his annoying “drunk college frat boy” era even at age 25. He was annoyed by him but so intrigued by you, he was intrigued by the fact you were with someone like that asshole. What upset him was how your ex-boyfriend used to fuck you, as creepy as it sounds, Daryl would listen to y’all. Not that he had much of a choice, you both had been neighbors to him in almost every location you had stayed in.

He could hear your fake pornographic moans as you pretended to cum, it was obvious but your boyfriend at the time only cared for himself. It was always the same position too, you had told Daryl this after y’all had gotten together. It was always super vanilla and you would never cum, ever. Daryl could tell your ex-boyfriend only cared for himself, in bed and out. That’s how he ended up dead in the first place, he ran off while you were stuck in a hoard only you had someone to save you… Daryl. He ended up getting caught by the hoard later on, but Daryl didn’t even think to go find him.

Daryl knew of your inexperience but this… this was simply unacceptable for him. The thought of you never getting eaten out, never having your pussy eaten out nice and right like you deserved, created a deep desire within him. He wanted to make you scream, wanted to edge you until you were begging to cum, he wanted to make sure his name was carved onto your tongue for the rest of your life but for now, on this lazy day, he was okay with just allowing you to slowly come undone on his tongue.

“Do ya trust me?” He asked, rubbing soft circles on your thighs as he spoke.

You did trust Daryl, with your entire life. It just made you nervous especially when you didn’t know what he was trying to do. There were so many things you didn’t know about yourself, your body was almost completely foreign to you so you weren’t sure what you liked quite yet. You did know you wanted Daryl to make you feel good and if he thought this was a way to do it, you would let him.

“Of course, I just don’t know what ‘going down on you’ means…” You stated, throwing up quotation marks with your hands as you quoted him. Daryl just chuckled, slightly pushing you down but it was more like he was guiding you to lay back down.

“If you stop talking and just let me show you…” he said, pecking your lips once more before he slowly once again kissed his way down your body. “Just trust me, that’s all I’m asking bunny… You know you can always just tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”

You let out a soft moan as he left soft love bites on your chest, leading them down to your core once more. You decided to just let him do what he needed, you knew if you ever felt uncomfortable Daryl would stop almost immediately. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, a bit embarrassed by his face being so close to your cunt, it felt more like a gynecologist visit than sex but you decided to let it get better.

Daryl trailed his kisses down to the inside of your thighs, kissing them one by one as he trailed higher and higher until his nose dug into your clothed pussy. He gasped as his nose hit your clit, swollen and soaked as he chuckled at your reaction. You threw your head back, biting your lip to hold back your moans, which honestly were quite embarrassing since he had yet to even touch you. Daryl sucked on the inside of your thigh, allowing you to feel his nose rub against you as he left a hickey.

He selfishly wanted to keep this moment going, wanted to tease you and see how even the littlest amount of touch made your toes curl. He decided to stop his teasing though because if he was honest, he felt eager to taste you. He kissed your love-bitten thighs once more before poking his head out from underneath you.

"Can I take these off?" He asked, hooking his finger underneath the band of your underwear.

You nodded your head, your eyes still on the ceiling as you were too embarrassed to look into his blue eyes. Daryl had noticed this, noticing your hands on your stomach as you scratched at it. In other words, Daryl could see you slowly going crazy at the feeling already.

"Hey, bunny..." He grinned, reaching up to grip your chin to look down at him. "It ain't gonna be fun if I can't see them pretty eyes..."

You managed to peel your eyes away from the ceiling and finally look at him as his hand rested on your chin. You smirked, murmuring a soft "sorry" as you watched him retract his hand and place it back on your thigh. He opened them slowly, as wide as you were comfortable with.

"Good girl... just stay like that for me hm..." He whispered out, his hot breath against your clothed cunt.

He smirked up at you, hooking his hand underneath your underwear before sliding them down your legs. He was soft with it, running his hand along your leg as he took them off so slowly you thought you were cum just then. You watched his every move with wide eyes, watching him get back into the position he was before. He could've warmed you up but he couldn't handle it anymore, so he dove in.

He was soft with it at first, and the kitten licked your clit as he rubbed up and down your slit. This action made you want to close your legs subconsciously, the action so sudden and quick your body tried to reject this foreign feeling. Daryl kept your thighs open though, one hand on your thigh as the other massaged your slit. You moaned softly, having a hard time making eye contact with him.

You knew right off the bat this was going to be a problem for you, you knew you would not be able to look at his lips or tongue the same anymore. You knew he would be kissing those lips more than he would your actual lips, but Daryl was completely okay with that. Daryl continued his soft actions until he felt you would go insane if he didn't speed up.

He slowly started licking up your slit, teasing your opening with his finger and sometimes sticking his tongue in just to hear the high-pitched moan you would make. Daryl made sure he didn't miss a single spot of your cunt, making sure he was licking up every single drip of you and allowing it to rest on his tongue as he tasted the sweetness of it. He couldn't explain how good you tasted to him, it was as though he was starving for so long and he finally got a taste of the sweet food he's been missing out on for his entire life. It was addictive.

"Fuck... Daryl..." You moaned out, your voice box already giving out as you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the sheets.

Daryl just smiled at your reaction and decided it was the perfect time to shove his 2 fingers in you. He knew you would not be able to last very long, and he was okay with that for now, obviously, he would definitely work your tolerance up to it soon enough but now he was okay with being your first. Daryl wanted to make sure you would never forget this moment like he did with anything when it came to pleasuring you. He wanted to make sure if a younger or more handsome dude came around, you would know who fucked you the best.

Daryl started a slow pattern on your clit, soft kisses followed by kitten licks and then sucking on it before he would slowly rub it with his thumb. It was a crazy pattern, very sporadic, but it was his way of trial and error, seeing which technique made your toes curl the most. So far, you seemed to really like when he sucked on it softly so he made sure to do that the most. He continued his abuse, feeling your walls close against his fingers as it became harder and harder to finger fuck you.

"Fu... dar... I'm... c...fuc..." You could literally not get a single word out of your mouth before a moan would hit you.

Your toes were curled, your mouth agape as you're back arched up until your head was thrown back into the pillows. Daryl started to push his fingers in and out of you at a medium speed, not wanting to overwhelm you too much, and his mouth began to suck softly on your clit. He could tell you were on the edge when your moans turned to screams, feeling your walls tighten even more.

The tight coil in your stomach finally snapped, cumming onto Daryl's fingers with a scream as you shook violently. Your thighs wanted to close around his head but Daryl kept them wide open. daryl fucked and sucked you through your orgasm, feeling your walls contract against his long fingers as you're juices flowed down them. You couldn't stop moving, you're squirming became unbearable and that's when Daryl decided to stop his movements.

He pulled his fingers out of you, stuffing them in his mouth. You watched him in amazement, a new sheet of arousal dripping from your swollen cunt. Daryl made his way back up to you, seeing how sweaty you had become. Daryl smiled down at you with his soaked face, holding himself above you. He popped his fingers out of his mouth before leaning down to kiss you.

You could taste yourself on his lips, it was almost nauseating as everything became too much for you. You ran a hand through his hair, pulling it slightly as you melted into the kiss. Daryl had to physically pull you away from him so you could breathe, he loved how needy you had become. You were so unsure of it at first and now you had fallen in love with it, fallen in love with him even more as he was the one who opened you up to it.

"You liked it huh?" He spoke, pushing some hair out of your face as it stuck to your sweaty forehead. You nodded aggressively, "liked" was an understatement. "Knew my bunny would... Do you need anything, hun?" He asked, slightly concerned at your rapid heartbeat.

You just bite your lip, pulling him into another kiss before pushing him down by his shoulders. He knew what you wanted, he knew you wanted him to go down on you again and he wasn't the one to turn that down.

"Needy little thing huh?" He chuckled as he kissed down your body once more.

"Less talking and more going down on me" You joked back, watching him place himself back in the position he once was in.

"don't gotta tell me twice darlin," He grinned up at you before diving back in. 

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