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jarofstyles · 7 months

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Reaper 12

This is 14.1k of pure smut. I hope that makes up for the wait!😇😇😇😇

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Warnings- Dom/Sub dynamics, subspace, domspace, spitting, slapping/impact play, degradation kink, praise kink, kink negotiation, mention of knife play, name calling, a mix of mean and soft Dom H. oopses.

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"What is it that you wanted to talk about?” Bunny couldn’t help the words from spilling from her mouth. They had just settled in back at the hotel after a quick stop to snack. Harry handed her some chips he’d saved from the airport lounge, wanting to make sure she was full as he took a seat next to her on the couch.

“I have some questions for you, that's all. If you have any for me we can also talk about it.” Harry spoke as he pulled open the bag of chips, “I want to know some more about what you like, yeah? Know I can make them all happen, want to see how you like it best.” He was already feeling himself get worked up.

He placed a few chips in his mouth to stop himself from revealing his true impatience. He loved to tease himself with it, hear her talk about all the things he knew he’d blow her mind with if she let him.

Bunny felt a warmth wash over her under his stare. Harry was like a wolf waiting to pounce, like an animal who enjoyed playing with his food. Her eyes locked with his again, eyes hazy with desire.

“I’m really curious. About a lot of things.”

Harry understood that. He hadn’t been sure what exactly she had been a part of or researched herself besides what she had already told him about the anal play, but he sure as shit was going to find out. “That’s good. Being curious and interested is a good thing. I think… I want to start off with what you definitely don’t think you want to do.” He stroked over her shoulder.

There was so much he wanted to do with her that the list of things he didn’t want to do was extremely small. “I know we’ve had rough sex, I’ve edged you, degraded you a bit. And you’re good with all of that, yeah?” He questioned, slipping his fingers under the neck of her shirt to feel the warm skin of her bare shoulder. Her nod was immediate and eager, making him smile. “Good. I just want to tell you that you can be comfortable with me. There’s no need to be embarrassed or hesitant to bring things up. I want you to be open and honest with me and tell me about the things you’d like to do. Your wildest dreams, things you fantasize about, things you are curious about. Should have had a better chat about this before if m'honest, and that’s my fault for not doing it.” He frowned. “But I’m gonna try to be the best I can here. So open that pretty mouth and get to talkin’.”

“I don’t think I’d be a fan of anything that could permanently harm me, but… I do enjoy a bit of pain.” She had always had an interest in it. Something about the rough touch always got her throbbing, aching for more. “The stinging feeling is really nice. I also don’t think I’d like to do anything too humiliating. I don’t think you would, because you know most of my limits. For most sexual things I’m more sensitive to rejection.”

Bunny knew she could get so into pleasing her partner, that it’s gotten her into trouble before. Sometimes she was so lost in the feeling that she forgot what she previously said she wouldn’t do. It was a shame she’d found out what she hated most was disrespect.

“I just know that I want to feel your touch on every inch of me so much that I feel it on me the next day.” The desire to be marked by his touches and kisses were overwhelming. “Want to give into you, want you to make me.”

The desires were tame, in his opinion. Dislikes basic and very do-able. He wouldn’t ever want to cause permanent harm. Quite frankly, the man would rather die than leave a mark that would last more than a few days. The thought of her in pain that didn’t lead to pleasure made him sick.

“Noted. I don’t think I need to tell you I wouldn’t ever do something that hurt you last fading in a few hours or days. But you like to feel it after, then. The burn, the sting, the ache. I like that.” He smirked to himself, fingers finding her necklace that had been tucked under her shift and fiddled with it.

“When you say pain, what are we thinking? Because there’s a few levels to it.” He shifted slightly, angling his body towards her. “We’ve got spanking, we’ve done that. Hair pulling. Biting. Scratching. All things I'm a fan of. Then you can go on to toys and impact play with them. Paddles, whips, canes. I’m not a massive fan of the cane, if I’m honest. Paddles, absolutely. Whips are a gray area for me. I’ve used them before and enjoyed them, but the person was a true masochist.” He explained. Bunny didn’t seem like the type to like whips, but he also had been shocked she liked anal play, so .

“We have pain that’s derived from pleasure. That’s what I like. Overstimulation. Making you orgasm over and over until it hurts and you’re sensitive- and doing it again.” He licked his bottom lip, knowing he had gone easier on her in the past. “I enjoy what we’ve done but I haven’t gone as heavy handed as I could be. Haven’t been as rough. We haven’t had this conversation properly, so I wasn’t ready to do that.” There was a slight pause. “You know subspace, yeah? It happens for dominant people too. S’called dom space. I’d like to venture into that at some point. Haven’t fully allowed myself to do it yet because, if I’m honest, didn’t really give a true fuck about anyone I was with beyond respecting them and caring for them as a human when we’d play like that. But I trust you.”

“Whips don’t sound fun and canes no… but I don’t mind a paddle, though your hands already feel good.” Bunny flirted, already a bit squirmy at the idea. She had a feeling he would be delivering many stinging slaps against her skin, the sounds she was already imagining ringing through her ears.

“Dom space? What does dom space feel like to you?” The girl was genuinely curious. She wanted to make sure that he was also properly taken care of, her hand reaching for his to place a soft kiss to it.

Bunny hadn’t had a proper dom before. She remembered her first time in subspace she didn’t realize what was happening, she just remembered how sensitive she had gotten and how much she forgot about. How easy it was for her partners to take advantage. Bunny had no doubt Harry would get her there and treat her appropriately.

“To me… it feels like I’m elevated. Maybe a little high. I haven’t fully felt it yet, but it’s similar in essence, I’ve heard, to subspace. I’m more aware, though. More in tune with you.” It was a difficult thing for him to explain out loud. “However, I’m okay with no whips and canes. Not my preferred method either way. I like feeling the sting in my palm.”

Harry liked seeing the flesh ripple under the hit, seeing it bloom. He loved watching her jolt and fall back into his hand, fingers digging into the sheets or curling into a fist as the hit strike went straight to their stomachs. The sound of it, the sharp snap, all of it appealed to him.

“And for us… I think aftercare will always be important. It usually is, but you’re very sensitive and I can imagine that if you drop in that way, s’intense for you.” He murmured, looking at her face as she was deep in thought. This was both an interesting and arousing conversation to have, but he needed safety first. He felt so much for her, he would never want to put any bit of it in jeopardy. “Can y’tell me some about what you’d like from me after doing something intense? Know you love to be held and praised but, do you need more? Something different?” Her needs needed to be catered to. It was his first time doing this with someone who hasn’t actually participated in this, only by accident here or there. He wanted the experiences with him to be as positive as humanly possible. “Anything to avoid after?”

“Don’t want to be left alone, even if we have to clean up or something just take me with you or lay with me.” She knew that for certain. “Probably need some water and something sweet at some point to get me back if it takes a bit, I’ve never fully dropped so I’m not sure what exactly I’d need but… yeah, just don’t leave until you know I’m back.”

Maybe this was a new thing that was developing, but she always had this fear even without the subspace. Abandonment was a tough feeling to navigate, especially having her brother and her dad in and out of the house growing up. Sometimes she worried they wouldn’t make it back, one night her dad didn’t. It seeped through into her sex life and partners, she didn’t want them to leave.

“I know after we do something intense I’ll just feel very vulnerable, so just be gentle and I will be okay. You’re already good at it, you know? I’m sure it will feel amazing afterwards.”

“Okay.” He could manage that. Actually– he didn’t know how he could do anything but gentleness and sweetness to her after the fact. That was something he was usually quite good at with her so far, thankfully. He hadn’t been confident in his ability to be gentle before they’d started.

“I’ll take note of that. That’s pretty basic aftercare from what I’ve noticed so it wouldn’t be difficult for me. I kind of want to take care of you all the time.”

The admission took her by surprise, the smile blooming on her face as she felt heat under her skin. He liked taking care of her? She preened at that. He didn’t even seem like he had much of a choice. It was natural for him when it wasn’t for anyone else, which made her feel especially good.

“Next question is… what are you the most curious about trying? Things you’ve been wanting to try with me or been a bit nervous to bring up. I want you to be open with me and tell me the real things you want so I can make sure you’re satisfied.” He moved his hand out of his shirt to knuckle over her jaw, smiling when she tilted her head to lean into his touch.

“I um…” Bunny was a bit lost on how to properly say the words out loud. It would shocking for him to hear from her, but the thought of it sent shivers up her spine. “You’ve always been really adamant on not laying a hand on me physically, never with malicious intent.” She shifted so she was facing him better. “But that stinging feeling I was talking about earlier, I want you to slap me.” The words hung in the air for a moment. Saying the words out loud made her a bit nervous, “You just… look really sexy when you’re angry and I know that I should probably be scared when I’ve seen you like that, but I’m not. All I ever think about is you fucking the life out of me.”

There had been many fantasies Bunny had about him taking his rage out on her, through sex of course. Perhaps it was something she should work out in other ways, unpack why it aroused her, but she didn’t want to. That emerging side of her wanted to explore it. Her eyes blinked up at him, expecting him to try and convince her otherwise. It seemed like her words only made him think harder.

Harry looked at her, brows shooting up at the request. It was one of the last things he had expected her to say, really. One he had to take a second to think about.

“You want me… to slap you?” He said it slowly, looking at her curiously. Harry didn’t want to make her feel nervous or embarrassed in the slightest, but it was one he was going to tread with caution. “To hit you in the face? I need clarification.” This wasn’t something to assume about.

At her nod, he licked his lip nervously before brushing his fingertips against her heated cheek. “So… explain it to me. When would you want me to smack you?” He questioned, looking at her eyes, trying to gauge her emotions. “You’d want it when I’m inside you? Want me to just use my judgment to do it, or you’ll tell me when you want it?” He was full of questions, obviously. “I’m not opposed. I’ll keep it light, I don’t want any marks on your face and I know how to control my strength but, I’m very curious about how you came up with that. Is it something you’ve always liked or…” was it just for him?

Bunny felt playful, pressing a nip to the side of his thumb as he brushed over her lips.

“It’s a very recent thing, it’s definitely something you’ve made me aware of where I wasn’t before the spanking.” She thought back to the first time she felt those initial bubbles of interest. It made her cunt feel warm from the inside, the sting traveled through her in waves.

“I’d want it up to you, but I’ll also tell you if I want it… can deny the request if you need.” It was a layered request, she wanted him to claim a certain type of dominance over her. She was ready to let go for him if he let her. The conversation was making it harder for her to keep it together, but she wanted to see where else the conversation would take them.

“If you want to do it while you’re inside, that’d be hot. I’ll always tell you if it’s too much.” Bunny had a way about her when it came to him. She knew just how to deliver things to get through to him.

“Hm. Okay.” It was a little intimidating, that request. Mostly because he hadn’t imagined it before, never even dreamed of it, but he found that he would probably do anything for her pleasure. As long as it was consensual.. It was fine with him. He would try it. “We’ll try that. I wasn’t expecting that in the slightest… knew you liked spanking but that’s different. You’re gonna have t’tell me if you like it when we try it.” There was a chance she wouldn’t, and he was prepared for that. “It’s okay if you don’t. It’s exploring, isn’t it?” Her nod made him relax a little bit. He’d never had this sort of conversation with someone he gave a shit about.

“I do have some more questions though. I can see you’re getting worked up but I need you to know you aren’t getting a thing until we’ve finished discussing, so keep clenching your thighs if you want, but don’t tease me.”

Bunny was a tease and they both knew it. Harry was a weak man for her, but he wanted to continue. “What do you like so far? When we fuck… what’s the thing you like the most and want some more of? M’assuming a bit of the manhandling, moving you around and being a bit rough. I want to know what your favorites are.” He paused, tucking some of her hair back so he could see her face properly. “Cause I think I want to spit in your mouth a bit more. S’that okay with you?”

“That’s good, yes please.” She nodded and felt a tingle at the way his tone landed on her ears. So smooth and stern, yet so ready to devour her in every way.

“I really like it when you talk to me. You’re really intimidating but it’s so hot… makes me want to climb on top of you, like how you have your way with me.” Bunny was thinking about all of their encounters, thinking about how much attention he paid to her body. How he had made her feel dirty and beautiful. She wanted more.

“I love the way you talk about my body. How you make me wait. You love to tease me but I can take more.” Bunny liked a good challenge. “And um… since we’ve been in the clubhouse I um, I liked the idea of them hearing us. Part of me wanted them to see…” Her cheeks heated, looking down at her lap. That was more of a fantasy, she knew he would understand, but still intimidating to admit. “I wouldn’t mind someone watching if you approved of them.”

That got him interested. His girl was a bit of an exhibitionist, wasn’t she? He was very pleased at the moment, hearing her talking about what she’s liked that he’s done for her, what makes her go wild. He did tend to run his mouth a lot but Bunny liked it, encouraged it. He could see on her face right now that she would more than likely do anything he asked.

“My girl’s dirty, isn’t she?” He sighed, shaking his head with a little smile curled at the edge of his lips. “Like what you added there, at the end of that. If I approve. I do. I wouldn’t mind showing off. I just don’t want anyone else touching you.” That was a firm no go for him. He would blow their heads off. Harry wanted her solely to himself. “I’ll bring you somewhere to show you off if that’s something you’d enjoy. I’ve heard whispers of a club around here that we can do precisely that. But we aren’t going to let anyone else touch you. That’s a hard limit of mine. Y’understand me?”

His face was deadly serious and she felt a thrill go up her spine at it. He was that possessive of her. He’d shared partners before, she assumed, but he wanted her to himself only. The idea was very pleasing to her.

“Yes, sir. I’d love to go. I don’t want anyone else to touch us. They can just watch. I like the idea a lot.” She admitted, squirming again on the couch. The mere thought went straight to her cunt.

“Good. I won’t share.” He shot her a look that she probably didn’t need, but continued. “More hard limits of mine are vomit, bathroom stuff, not super into the food stuff besides whipped cream and chocolate, maybe… no cock cages for me, fisting for me, needles… fireplay. M’okay with wax or knife play but, I don’t want to be stabbed unless it’s a tattoo.” He was somewhat joking. He could see that intimidated her a bit, though.

“Know that’s intense. But I had to list them. I’m open to most things.”

“Oh well— yeah I definitely don’t like the sound of a lot of that either. But whipped cream and chocolate sounds fun. And sticky.” Bunny scrunched her nose at the thought but carried on, not allowing it to distract her. “Wax is good too… the knife play?” Bunny was intrigued but she wasn’t exactly sure if she would like it. “Can you tell me a little more about that? How would that work with us?” She wanted to see his vision, understand the filthy desires he kept quiet about. There was a thrill in the surprise most of the time, but she was in the mood to pick at his brain.

Harry looked so relaxed talking to her, his pupils dilated because he was truly in awe of the sight. Bunny got him going like nothing else, better than any drug or any revenge he’s gotten. His own vice.

“There’s a few ways we could do it. It’s a mix of wild adrenaline and your pain kink.” He teased, as if he didn’t have one to match. “I’d never go deep with it. Don’t even have to knick you. Just holding it to you, letting you feel the metal, the danger of it being close to your skin… it’s erotic. Danger is, I suppose.”

Harry’s whole life was danger. Filled with adrenaline releases and highs, it was something that he found to be creeping into his own sex life as he got older. He didn’t want to make her truly afraid, but the thrill went far. He knew that himself, the feeling of the cold metal running over his skin, even grazing him slightly had been enough to make him go wild.

“Could take the knife and hold it to your thigh. I’ve cut your panties off before, can do that with the rest of your clothes. Cut you out of them completely. Run it over your body. Even give you a little scratch with it. It all depends on your comfort. If you don’t want to, it isn’t a big deal. But I think you’d like it.”

It was really hot when he cut through her panties. That was a fond memory of hers.

“I did like it.” She was almost uncomfortably wet remembering how he looked at her, the slicing sound and her shock of her realizing what he had done. “I think I would like more, a scratch would feel good.” Bunny could already picture it against her skin, she did trust him with her life. He’d never harm her.

Her curiosity was getting the best of her, she wanted to hear more about what he liked. The answer didn’t quite satisfy the aching in her belly for more.

“Is there anything I do that you really like?” Bunny let her hand rest against his thigh, leaning closer into him. She desperately wanted to touch and kiss him, but they were having a serious conversation. It wouldn’t stop her from touching him.

It wasn’t that Harry had anything to hide, he just felt it was obvious. He was very vocal about the things he liked, practically everything she did got to him. The girl wanted to know.

His eyes went to her hand on his thigh, shooting up a brow as he looked back at her. She was trying her best to be good. He could see it, she was itching to be touched and vice versa, but she was holding on. It settled in his stomach, the satisfaction that she wanted to be good for him.

“There’s a lot of things I like. I like when you pull on my hair and you dig your nails into my skin. I like when you choke on me. When you let me use your mouth to fuck.” He took her hand in his own, tangling their fingers. Maybe he was taunting her a little bit.

“I like when you make noise. When you get so worked up that you babble a bit. Lets me know m’doing a good job.” His lips quirked up in a slight smirk. I do like occasionally when you’re a brat and you fight me a little bit, mostly because I like to take over and make you take it. I’ve been a bit tame with you so far with what I’ve done in the past. I’m going to keep going to work you up to more. But I want you to be vocal for me. Tell me what you like and what you want more of. That’s the shit I need for us to keep playing the way you want.” With a gentle squeeze, he released her hand and found her cheek, curling his fingers around it. Her body was practically vibrating with need and he could see it. He could feel it.

“Tell me what you’re feeling at this moment.”

“I feel really tingly…” She didn’t know what better word to use. “I feel like I need you to touch me or I need to touch you. Just want to kiss you so bad but we’re having a conversation and I don’t want to be rude.” Bunny was eager to play, she felt like she had had enough of the conversation now. It felt like it’s been ages since she felt his skin.

It made her feel so nice knowing there were things she did naturally that made him feel good. She rubbed over his hand with her thumb, though she couldn’t move it much. It was as if he was keeping her in place. Bunny kept her eyes on him, waiting patiently for his next move. His next words. She had been so good and planed on continuing. She wanted to get him in the best of moods, make him feel good after all the emotional turmoil they’ve both had.

Harry just couldn’t believe how good she was.

“I’m impressed with you.” He admitted to her. “You’re being incredible for me. Such a good girl.” The two last words came as a soft croon, his fingers gently squeezing her face as she melted into the touch. The praise itself has her toes curling, looking hazy eyed up at him with a new eagerness in her blood.

That was what she wanted. She wanted his praise and to impress him, to get him to be proud of her. That was the ultimate goal. Her restraint had given the desired effect, Harry’s approval making the tingles turn into vibrations in her body. Yes, this was her being his good girl.

“You need to ask for what you want.” He instructed. “Whether I’ll give it to you or not is up to me. But I’d like for you to speak up and tell me what you’d like when you’d like it.”

“Whenever?”

This was a big deal to her.

Bunny had never been one to vocalize her wants. She had always kept them to herself and expected her signals to do the talking for her. That wouldn’t do with Harry, but she liked it in a way. It was a challenge, but she didn’t mind asking him.

“I’m still so needy for you, you know? I can’t get it out of my system.” Bunny didn’t think she wanted to. “You’re going to be hearing it a lot more now.” She couldn’t be shy anymore, if she needed it she would have to tell him. “Because I really want you to fuck me like you’ve always wanted to.” She felt her heart rate speed up. “Want to try something new, but you can surprise me. I like it when you pick for me.” When she got to give up control.

There was something else she knew she was forgetting as she tried to rack her brain, feeling a bit shy when she remembered. “Ah and I really want a kiss before we start.”

Harry sat for a moment, looking at her with pride. She was perfect for him. Bunny wanted to give him what he wanted because it would give her pleasure. He wanted to give it to her. He really just wanted to ruin her. Make her boneless and soft and useless just for him.

“We are going to continue using the stoplight system. Green is good, more, you’re fine. Yellow… slow down. You’re okay but you need a moment or we need to pause. Red is stop. No matter what, red is stop. If you can’t talk, hit or knock three times. Do you get me?”

Her nod was immediate. That’s what she had been missing. Safe word. The intensity of it already had her feeling hot and needy and she had been rushing but of course, Harry knew what was missing. He always did.

“Yes. Yes- I get you, Harry. Can we kiss? Please?” Her plead sounded whiny, even to her, but she couldn’t help it. She was desperate and she wanted to start. “I was a good girl, right? I need a kiss. Please, sir.”

And so it began.

“Come on then. Come sit on me and give me the kisses you want.” He patted his lap, releasing her so she could climb on him.

It didn’t take much for Bunny to fling herself on him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders while her cunt pressed over his crotch. Her breathing was deep, heavy with need as she paused to take a look at him.

“You’re so handsome.” She spoke fondly, leaning forward to kiss him in a kiss that was so much warmer than it was needy. Bunny kissed with intention, making sure he could feel how serious she was about this despite her horny mind taking over. Kissing Harry always felt like she was breathing, keeping him close. She took her time leaning further into his warmth. Harry’s hands were already finding their place on her body, smoothing over her hips and perky ass.

He gripped at the skin, kneading and pulling just enough to give her some type of pleasure. Very light, but sensual. His touch felt heavy with desire, every bit of pressure had a purpose.

“I am? M’handsome?” The words were spoken through kisses, right against her lips. Harry was smug. He was cocky and arrogant and it made her throb, the way he knew he was hot and he could give her what she wanted, it made her feel crazy.

“Mhm. So handsome.” She whispered back, needy with her kisses. The girl was barely giving them time to breathe, clinging to him with a need that Harry hadn’t experienced from her before. It was the most he had teased her since their first time together, the conversation having added to the arousal she felt. So desperate to be close to him, to have him all over her.

“Good. M’glad you think so, pretty girl. So fucking pretty, every inch of you. Y’know that? I think you’re the prettiest little slut that’s ever been in my lap.” He drawled, pulling back from her lips despite her whine. “You’ve got the sweetest cunt, too. Best I’ve ever tasted. Gets soaked for me. N’you let me take it bare, don’t you?” His hands pulled her closer. “You’re gonna let me do it again today. Stretch you open, fill you up to the brim. And maybe, if you’re a good girl and take it like I want, I’ll lick you clean. But you’re going to have to be well behaved and listen to every single thing I ask of you.” He nudged his nose against her own, but kept their lips from touching despite her frown. “You think you can handle it?”

“Yes, I can handle it.” Bunny was quick to answer but wasn’t so sure if she could. She was definitely going to try her best. Y/N wanted to see all that he had to offer, to listen to him despite how achy her cunt felt. He knew best it seemed. Bunny was hot, her clothes feeling tight on her skin but she didn’t dare move away from him. “Please don’t tease me too much, I really need to feel you.” Bunny wanted to connect with him desperately. She let her hand scratch at the back of his neck, smoothing her thumb over the side of it to show the sincerity in her tone.

“I will listen, I’ll relax, I just want to feel close to you.”

Their intimacy became the safest place for her. She never wanted that to change.

His eyes softened slightly at her request. As much as he wanted to play, he wanted to take care of her. He was going to make sure she was fully taken care of and her needs were met, but he was a tease. He supposed be could lay off a bit… for now.

“Okay. My sweet girl, you need to feel me inside of you. Is that it?” He stroked her hair back out of her face, smiling slightly at her nod. “Okay. We can do that. Let’s get you ready for me, hm?”

Harry slowly began to lift the shirt she was wearing, exposing her skin inch by inch. “I need to see this perfect body. Perfect cause every single inch belongs to me. Doesn’t it, my girl?” He questioned. “You let me have you as my girl. You let me touch you and kiss on you… you belong solely to me. Every fucking inch of you is mine.” His lips pressed against hers momentarily before he peeled the shirt over her head. “Tell me you’re my girl.”

“I am your girl, always have been.” She meant that as well. In her head she had always been his, it was only ever him on her mind. It was still settling in that he wanted her just as much. Even hearing him say she was his was sending chills up her spine. Did he really mean it?

She was going to believe it for right now. It felt too good to deny.

“I hope you like the sets I wear for you.” Bunny felt like they always got so caught up in the moment, rarely did they take the time to acknowledge them but she was sure he noticed. Bunny has tried her best to match the sets with her mood. The one she wore today was a deep wine color. Burgundy almost, clinging to her skin with lace detail.

She squeezed her breasts together using her arms, leaning into him to steal another kiss while he was thinking. She pressed another to his cheek and down his jaw, smiling to herself as he melted into her. It was her favorite feeling.

“Always. You’re the prettiest girl. Y’know that?” He was lucky. Harry had known that since she had actually given him the time of day. A girl like her deserved a lot better than Harry, but he was going to do his damn hardest to try and make sure he was good enough for her. To make sure he proved his worth just for her. She went around and wore pretty lingerie for him, dolled herself up and the least he could do was appreciate it.

“Love this one. The red….” It complimented her skin tone perfectly. He wanted to have this image engrained in his head forever. Her lips were moving on his skin, touching him and moving as she pleased, but he was letting her. He didn’t have any problems with it, actually. He loved letting her have her way- just for a little bit. “Want you on your knees for me, baby. Don’t do anything without instruction… but get down on them and give me your eyes. Can y’do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.” She slowly made her way down to her knees but not without stealing one last peck to his lips. Her hands moved across his thighs, for support… sure. Bunny just really wanted to feel him up one more time before she fully gave into him and his filthy plans for the evening. Her eyes landed back on his as she settled on the back of her heels, hands folded in her lap on top of her jeans. It was a bit awkward being half naked, but there was also something so hot about being exposed to him. Harry was ready to have her fully naked or fully clothed. She could see it in his eyes.

Bunny’s view from the ground gave her a new perspective on why he always asked her to get on her knees. It was for him to get into the headspace, for him to give into the desires he holds back. She could see his demeanor changing, a wave of excitement rushing through her. They’d never been this open.

“Unzip me.”

His fingers had popped the button already, letting it be a bit easier for her as he sat with his length thick in his pants. He was drawing it out, keeping it moving ever so slowly because he wanted to cherish this. Every single time with her was special, but this was the first time they were going to properly play. Her shaky hands were quick to do as he asked, unzipping the pants and going to reach in to grab him- only to stop. She realized halfway through.

“Saw that. You stopped yourself.” His hand lazily pet over her hair. “Good. Look at that… You’re learning already. S’my obedient girl.” His hand did the honors, reaching into his jeans to fish himself out of them.

His cock was sensitive, his lips holding back a hiss as it was exposed to the cooler air. Thick and heavy in his palm, he gripped it at the base and slid it up towards the ruddy tip, letting his thumb slide over the slit. His stomach tensed as he hummed in his throat at the feeling, watching her distressed face.

She wanted to be the one doing that.

“Hands on my thighs. Don’t move them until I say to.” He instructed, feeling her comply immediately. He could get used to this. “Lean over and spit on it. Get it wet. You don’t get to have it yet, but you can help me.”

Bunny looked at him for approval feeling herself throb against the fabric of her panties.They were ruined. Something about spitting was so sexy to the both of them. Bunny enjoyed watching the thickness bubble up and coat the tip of his cock, how shiny and slick he became all because of her. Even the strands of spit coming from her lips drove her wild. She could imagine how it must look for him.

Her hands stayed still with their grip on his thighs, though she wished she could do a little more. She wasn’t going to test her luck so early on, she could wait. She knew she could.

Harry brought a hand up to keep the hair away from her face, wanting to give her the freedom to move her head as she pleased. Comfort was still the most important to him at this stage.

“A bit more, baby.” Harry was watching it trail down the length of his cock, but waited for her to finish before letting himself spread it. The slick sounds that came from his strokes as he pulled back up seemed to light a spark in Bunny’s eyes.

She glowed with that permission, moving down towards him again and letting another string of spit slip from her pursed lips down to his cock. His large hand was stroking himself slowly, spreading it around as she did so while the other held her hair back, fist loose in the makeshift ponytail. He watched the scene, catching the saliva with his hand and smearing it over the length.

“Christ.” He muttered under his breath. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you could be good for me. Looks good doesn’t it?” He taunted slightly. “Getting me wet just like I asked. Looks nice, doesn’t it?”

Bunny was gagging for it. As much as she tried to be good, she couldn’t hide the desperation. The whole day, hell- the whole trip- had been foreplay. His still slightly bruised knuckles were teasing her. He was doing what she wanted to be doing, her hands tightening on his thighs as she gave him a soft little whine. “Yeah. I wanna taste.” She blinked up at him. “May I please? I want to have it.”

“You want it that bad?” Harry was fond of how eager she was to please him, his grip tightening only slightly. “Gonna stop when I say so? Yeah?” He asked her for confirmation, pulling her head a little closer to him. It was only a bit rougher than usual, but he wanted to warm her up to the feeling.

“I’ll be good.” Bunny promised him, her eyes widen and expecting to be guided down on his cock. She really liked the feeling of him tugging at her hair, it was only light, but she was already pulling her hair back a bit to keep the tension.

“Go on then, give it a taste.” He gave the go ahead, allowing himself to sit back and relax into the feeling of her hot mouth on him. Harry was never sure what to expect from her, the type of blowjob she gave usually depended entirely on her mood. It was exciting for him too, to see her open up to him in such an intimate way.

It sent a thrill up her spine as he gave in to her. She had been waiting for this all day. Part of her had loved the delayed gratification, sure, but there was nothing quite like getting her way. Immediately she took him into her mouth with excitement evident, her lips stretching over him. She focused on the tip, humming in relief as she tasted him on her tongue.

She couldn’t explain it fully, why she loved sucking him so much. With her other lovers, it had been nice but never this fulfilling. Half of it she attributed to the fact that it was just Harry. His approval, his pleasure, his affection was worth ten times more than anyone else she had ever been with. The physical act fueled her. The feel of him against her tongue, the weight of it inside of her mouth, how he stretched her mouth open to have a bit of an achy jaw as a reminder, all of it totaled up to the pleasure she got from it.

His fingers stroked over her head, eyes watching intently as she bobbed her head slightly. That part was just as thrilling, having his eyes on her as she did such an intimate act. She wanted to impress him. “You can take more than that, petal.” He clicked his tongue, hooded eyes looking down at her. “Don’t disappoint me. I want more of me in that mouth.”

Disappointing him is certainly something she did not want to do.

His instruction was all it took for her to take more of him. She took a moment to adjust her breathing and make sure she was going slow at first to get used to his girth. Her eyes began to water slightly as they usually did, but she took him like a champ. It was a struggle, but her need to please outweighed the discomfort.

“Fuck. Knew you could do it, perfect little mouth of yours.” Harry purred, already feeling the effects of relief. Just having her mouth over him was enough, the soft velvety walls were much more appealing than anything else he could imagine. She really was the perfect girl, there all along. “What am I going to do with you?” Harry asked no one in particular, locking eyes with her for a moment only to notice how messy she had gotten. “Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed, S’like you were made for it.”

She felt like she was made for it. Bunny was made for him and he knew that he was made for her. Her mouth had taken him so well, her eyes watering but the eagerness to please overshadowing any sort of discomfort she may have.

His hand pet over her face, tenderly stroking the cheek as he held her hair in the other first. His thumb smeared some of her spit over her chin, feeling her moan around him.

“Love that you’re desperate for it. S’how I feel when I get my mouth on that sweet cunt. You know that?” He thumbed over where her cheeks hollowed, taking him down again with a little gag. “Fuck, love to bury my tongue in you and make you messy for me. Tastes so sweet and you make the prettiest noises.” He pulled her further down on his cock, feeling that gag again and letting out a groan.

Bunny moaned at his words, the vibrations being sent down through his cock. Her eyes had started to water but none of it was stopping her from giving him the pleasure he deserved. His groans and the sight of his clenching jaw were enough to motivate her. He was so confident about what he wanted, never hesitating to pull her closer.

She could take it.

That was the beauty of it all. Looking down at her and seeing her needy eyes, hungry for more. Her tongue expertly rubbed over his most sensitive parts, she’d been such a quick learner. Harry swore there was no one who had known him better.

“So fucking good, came to me all on your own as well… opened up so nicely.” Harry rasped, a proud smirk appearing on his face. “Getting me ready, bet you’ve been soaked since we were in the store, hmm?”

She hummed an agreement against him, sinking down again and holding her spot there without his prompt. The need to make him feel good felt engrained in her, wanting to make her hand herself over to him on a polished silver platter to do whatever the fuck he wanted to her. Getting to pleasure him was her favorite thing to do. The weight of his cock on her tongue grounded her. She was making a mess, but it was out of pleasure.

Her trance was stopped as he pulled her off of his cock, a string of spit dripping down her chin to her breasts as she looked at him confused. She’d been doing good, just as he had asked. Why did he stop?

“Stand up.” The tone of his voice made her shiver. Harry’s demands lit a fire under her, clumsily standing up to meet him as he lifted up as well. His gaze was intimidating, her dazed eyes looking into his darkened ones with need to know what he wanted her to do next.

Luckily he had done it for her. His lithe fingers found the mess on her chin, wiping it up and smearing it on her mouth. “Open. Tongue out.” Obedient, the swollen lips fell open and Harry hummed in approval, taking two spit covered digits and wiped the wetness on her tongue. “Good girls clean up their messes. Suppose that’s why you’re Daddy’s slut.”

Bunny could feel that familiar tingly heat crawl its way up her body, a warmth only Harry could make her feel. She blossomed for him even when his words were filthy, when he looked down at her as if he was ravish.

That’s exactly what he planned to do.

Harry admired the glistening spit that stuck to her breasts, eyes trailing along the wetness until he reached her lips once again.

“So pretty like this, get to have you just how I like now. No distractions.” That alone was getting Harry harder by the second. It was just him and his girl alone in a different city. His city. “Gonna show you exactly how it’s supposed to be, just how I would have done it had I known what I know now.”

Harry promised on this trip they would pretend, but to him it felt like it was also his own fantasy that was coming true. A look into a future he never thought he could have. A normal life with the girl he wanted most.

“You want more, pretty girl?”

“Please.”

The desperation in her voice was enough to push Harry over the edge. She had told him exactly what she liked, exactly what she had been thinking about with him and her fantasies that had been lingering about her brain.

“Such a pretty girl. So beautiful, look at your skin. Flawless.” His fingers moved down her torso, feeling her tense up slightly in anticipation while he caressed her. “Beautiful little thing. Best part is, you’re all mine.” His voice dropped, slowly backing her up to the bed.

Bunny swallowed, eyes wide as she walked backwards as he coaxed her. His tone, his words, all of it was magic and sensual, hot and dirty. He didn’t stop talking and that was something that she realized she loved. How filthy his mouth could be for her. The throbbing between her legs was intense, surely enough evidence smeared on her thighs and wetting the skin. “I am. I’m yours.” She peeped, gasping as he pushed her back and made her fall on to the bed.

“M’glad you know that. Your body certainly does.” Hands urged her thighs apart. “Let me see now. I know you’re soaked. Could smell it.”

Bunny relaxed against the softness of the bed beneath her, closing her eyes to focus more on the feeling of the silky sheets and the roughness of hands over her thighs. She wasn’t trying to fight it this time, relaxing to fully spread herself out for him.

“You really are dripping, look at you..” Harry squeezed the inside of her thigh, rubbing over the skin before smacking his hand right over it. It was quick and sharp, the way she mentioned she’d like. “Could slip right in if I wanted to,” Harry dipped his head down to mutter against her skin, licking over it to soothe the sensitivity.

Bunny’s breathing was heavy, squirming at the new sensations he was bringing to her. His grip stayed tight on her, shifting her legs over his shoulders so he could have better access. “Been squeezing these pretty thighs, but you aren’t asking for what you want…” Harry was unsatisfied with her hesitation, biting into her skin just enough for her to let out a surprised moan. “Why so quiet?“

“Y-you didn’t tell me to make noise.” She squeaked, the sting of his bite making her pant. Bunny loved a bit of teeth, specifically Harry’s. She wanted his marks all over her body. To feel him when she walked. The incessant need to be owned by him was unforgiving.

“So now you’re choosing to be quiet?” He shook his head, looking up at her from his rightful place. Nestled between her thighs, his eyes were dark and glossy, hair tousled and unusually messy from her hands and the day’s work. The man looked edible. Her body reacted to every single part of him, but his beauty was something that couldn’t be compared.

“M’sorry.” She whined. “Wanted to be good. I want…” it felt hard to get the words out. His stare was almost intimidating to her, his hands squeezing over her skin and making her feel his fingertips as his lips brushed over the flesh right above her pussy.

“I want, I want, I want…” he mocked, sneering down at her. “Then say it. Tell me what you fuckin’ want. Or m’going to spank your cunt and jerk myself off onto it. Shouldn’t be this dumb before my cock gets inside of you.”

Bunny really couldn’t make up her mind. Part of her wanted his mouth on her, licking and sucking at her cunt as if it was his last meal. Another part of her wanted to feel his fingers rub up inside of her, forcing multiple orgasms from her with the calloused pads of his fingers. His cock was the most prominent thought in her mind, the feeling of fullness was something she couldn’t erase from her mind.

“I wanna feel full.” Y/N managed to say, hands moving to grab a hold of his. His forearm, his hand, anything to soothe the ache between her thighs. All she could feel was his hot breath on her, not daring to open her eyes and face him. Not when she could hear the smugness in his voice.

“Full?” He let his nose nudge through where her hip and thigh met. He pressed a few kisses there, nipping at the skin. “Not yet. Try again.” Harry wanted to enjoy playing with her body just a bit more. He liked how reactive she was to him and just how much he could test her patience.

“Please?” Her voice frayed, opening her eyes to look down at him. “I want it. I’ve been good.” She insisted, stomach jumping with breaths as his lips kissed over the insides of her thighs. He was teasing her, taunting her. All the girl needed was tom cum, but she had to admit that the way he spoke had her eyes rounding.

“You have been?” He laughed under his breath. “According to who, darling?” Giving it to her too easily would make her spoiled. He knew she could hold out for a moment, so he decided to taste a little bit. His eyes kept their vision in her face as he pressed a kiss over the top of her cunt, letting her wetness stain his lips. “A good girl would give me her eyes when she knows how much I like to see them.” The fingertips pressed harder to spread her legs open, moving his mouth down to brush his tongue up and over her clit. “Christ… Soaked cunt just from sucking me, having dirty conversations. Couldn’t believe it when I found out how nasty and deprived my seemingly sweet girl is. And even still…” he sighed, removing a hand to spread her cunt open for his viewing pleasure. “You don’t know how to ask for my cock correctly.”

Bunny tried her best to sit up, giving him her eyes just like he had asked. It was hard to keep herself up when she was already starting to float away in her mind, but his eyes caught hers and pinned her down. She couldn’t make herself look elsewhere. It managed to snap her out of the haze she was in, sinking into the sensual space they’ve created.

“I do know how…” She argued, breath mirroring the way he was breathing against her cunt. “Don’t want you to stop this though.” She collected herself, though she was still feeling shy about how much she loved his teasing. She loved when he drew it out. His mouth drew closer to her cunt once again and her breath hitched as his teeth grazed the skin and soothed it with his tongue.

“You really like teeth don’t you, baby?” He let the pet name spill from his mouth, he didn’t even realize he’d said it as he continued. “If you want my cock, ask correctly. Know you’re a bit empty, didn’t know it counted in your head too. Use your brain”

He licked a broad stripe up her cunt, sighing in relief as her hand made its way to the back of his head. He liked feeling it there. Normally he’d never let someone touch him without permission, but he craved her touch far more than he anticipated.

“May I please have your cock, sir?” Bunny asked, tugging at the hair at the back of his head. “Can I please feel you fill me? Want to feel you deep inside, want you to spank me, take me sir.”

He chuckled against her cunt, pulling back with the slight shining on his lips as he looked up at her. She sounded wrecked already, the poor thing. Harry’s favorite way to have her. “Look at that, sweetheart. You’ve got a brain after all.” He cooed, the mean words given with a sweet, condescending tone. Pulling his head up, he moved up to sit on his knees as he kept her legs pried open. “You want to be full, I know. The spanking, I can help you with.” He kept his eyes on her as he used his palm to smack directly over her cunt.

She gasped, squealing at the sting. God, did the pain feel good, but it confused her body. It hurt slightly, but it triggered her pleasure. A new sensation for her and a confirmation for him as he did it again, causing her body to jolt on the blanket and give him a whine. Bunny felt hazy and hot, lifting her hips up to ask for more.

“None of that.” He chastised her with a frown. “Keep these legs spread. If you want my cock, you’ve got to be a good fucking girl for me. Know as soon as you get my cock inside of you, you’re going to be useless so m’talking you now.”

Bunny nodded, heaving a bit as the sensation spread in waves through her body. The gentle throbbing made her clench as he kept his eyes on her. “I’ll stay still. I promise, I'm just excited.” Y/N could feel her heart rate picking up, the new level of roughness from him was turning her on even more. The way he mocked her had her jaw going slack.

“Still. Tell me what you feel, tell me if you can handle more. Need to open you up a bit.” Harry couldn’t take it much longer, he needed his fingers knuckles deep inside her cunt. The slickness he dreamed about was just in front of him, the smell he fell in love with. He thought it was time he tested her.

“Gotta stay with me baby, gonna do a good job for me so I can slip right in there. Fill you up like you’re begging for.” Harry let his fingers spread open her cunt, spitting right down onto it. “Been a bit greedy with my fingers, bet you can take a few?” He purred and slipped one finger inside.

She squirmed slightly despite her best efforts to sit still. Never in her life had she felt so empty before, but this whole day had felt like foreplay to her. His attentive nature all day, their conversation, sucking him off, all of it had her nerves on overdrive and ready to burst. His single finger wasn’t enough, but it was a relief. Her little noise had him laughing to himself, seeing her struggle with the efforts to keep her hips down as he had ordered from her. It was almost embarrassing to hear how wet she was, the sound of it audible with his actions.

“More. I can take more, I promise.” She needed more, really. Harry knew that and he was absolutely teasing her, but he loved doing that to her. He’s never gone very far with making her beg so far and their sex had been only slightly kinky, but now it was going to get good.

“You can? Greedy cunt can take some more fingers?” He taunted, grinning wickedly. It shot a fear that morphed into pleasure in her stomach. Harry noticed the way her stomach tensed allowing his free hand to rub over it, preparing her for another finger. He was still gentle, but slipped in with more force than Y/N expected.

“Oh— like that...” Bunny remembered he wanted her to speak up more, vocally guide him through the motions she was enjoying. “Like it harder, like the pressure.” It was as if he was reading her mind, fingers curling to press against her walls with more intent.

“I’m gonna stretch you out so well, love when I knead you open, how you relax against my fingers. Such a greedy cunt, still squeezing me so tight.” Harry breathed against her thigh, looking up at her through his lashes. He lapped up some more of her wetness before shifting up higher on her body.

He wanted to feel all of her, kiss her and fuck his fingers up into her till she was screaming for him to stop. Harry swore he never wanted to fill someone so badly, to take them and make them feel him for days. Another finger dipped inside causing her grip on his hair to tighten.

“Fuck me…” Bunny squeaked, feeling the burning sensation crawl up her thighs. Relaxing into the pain, the slow rocking of his fingers, the way he bit just along her neck. She was lost in it.

“M’gonna, angel. Don’t worry about that. All you’ve got to do…” he placed a sloppy kiss to the sensitive spot right underneath her ear. “Is be my good girl n’do exactly as I say. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

She keened at the feeling. His fingers were filling her up and stretching her just like he had promised, but it wasn’t enough. Bunny had always known that she was needy for him, for his attention, for his touch, but it felt extreme right now. His hot tongue on her skin and the ends of his hair tickling her, the fingers fucking into her cunt nice and slow, it was enough to send her mind into a tizzy.

“Please, please, please, please… fuck me.” She sulked, trying her hand at begging again. “I’ll be good, I’ll be the best girl, just want you I-inside.” She stuttered, eyes wet with frustration. It felt like she was going to explode if she didn’t get what she needed.

Harry’s lips paused on her neck where he had been leaving traces of him, slowly moving up to peck her own. They curled up, a laugh against her mouth feeling especially cruel. “One more please. I don’t think you really want it bad enough.”

“Please.” Bunny would say anything to get it from him, Harry was aware of that as well. His excited Bunny had never been good at waiting, he was expecting her to put up a bit of a fight. “Wanted you on the other day and on the plane, waited all day today while you were talking dirty and teasing me, I wanna be good— don’t you like how tight I feel? Wanna feel how deep you can go. Please sir.”

She’d been spoiled rotten with sex, Harry couldn’t bring himself to say no. It was hard to do so when she brought out the most primal parts of him, he had focused on her body and was going to have his way with it. With just a little more patience.

“Such a needy cunt I have, been nothing but nice to you and it’s still not enough.” Harry chuckled, moving his fingers just over the spot that made her shake. “What are you going to do when you can’t have me?“ Not that Harry was ever going to leave, but the thought of her crying and begging for his touch did make his cock ache.

That wasn’t a thought she liked to have. Why did there have to be a time where she can’t have him? She was his and he was hers and she wasn’t liking that idea at all. “No- no, I always want you. Can always have you, always.” She babbled, pressing herself against him. “Give it to me, give it to me, please.” A little sob left her mouth as she cried out in frustration.

The fingers weren’t enough. She needed the closeness, the fill that only he could give her. She wasn’t usually demanding but this was driving her absolutely mad.

“God, you’re such a whiny fucking brat.” He sighed out, taking his fingers from her cunt and slapping over her cunt firmly. Harry loved getting her to this point. He had usually given in, not wanting to push her too far in the past, but now that he knew she liked it? He wasn’t going to deny himself the answers to his curiosity. “Keep these legs spread. I’m going to give it to you, and you better not fucking complain. You get me?”

“Yes, sir. Please.” Bunny nodded, feeling out of breath with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had been right about her love of pain, hell, she hadn’t expected it to be this good. The sting was enough to have her hissing.

“Never seen you this desperate for my cock.” Harry chuckled, using his hand to grip her jaw. He was feeling himself start to let go, the dominance inside of him had grown comfortable with her. “You’d say anything for me to stuff you full right now.” He used his fingers to tap her face, as if to brace her for the slap that followed.

Bunny took a sharp breath, body going limp in submission. She herself hadn’t expected it to work so well.

“Give me your eyes.” He waited before removing his hand from her jaw. “Color?”

“Green! Please, sir— ah” Bunny felt his cock brush against her cunt. She had been in such a haze she hadn’t realized he stripped the rest of his lower half, leaving him in a shirt she was sick of seeing. Harry had managed to push them farther back up the bed, pulling her thighs up and over his shoulders.

“Y’want it deep? Fine” Harry didn’t hesitate to push himself past her puffy, slick folds and into the dripping cunt he’d been teasing for what felt like hours. “Fuck…” Harry breathed as he filled her in, grinding against her so she didn’t miss an inch.

“Good girl, take it… you want it deeper?” His voice grew darker, pushing himself even deeper just to hear her gasp for him again.

“Please, please, please, please…” the word fell from her mouth like a prayer as she tried to catch her breath. It was overwhelming. His cock was stretching her open despite the preparation, her eyes watering as he got her to a point she hadn’t been before. This level of need, the want to please him was lighting her nerves on fire.

“Please? You’ve got some good manners when you get what you want.” His voice was fuzzy in her brain for a moment before she felt his fingers dig into her legs. All she could focus on was the feeling of him. He was all over her, inside of her, his hands on her, his taste in her mouth, all she could think about was Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Her Harry.

“God… y’look so pretty like this, baby.” He whispered, dragging his fingers over her heated skin. Her legs erupted in goosebumps, not unnoticed by the man who felt satisfaction flood his body. He was the only one capable of getting her to this point. Sopping wet, begging, teary eyed and desperate to do anything for him. “This is what y’were made for. Made to please me, to be a hole for my cock. And you fuckin’ love it, don’t you?” He cooed, sweat beading on his brow as he gave a shallow thrust. “You love being mine.”

“Yours, yours, I’m yours, I love it.” Bunny cried out, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the tear from falling but that didn’t seem to make a difference. A hot tear rolled down her cheek, her body buzzing with pleasure.

Her vision was blurry from the pleasure, the sound of her breathing grew louder as she slapping of skin led her closer to her peak. Her thighs tingled, stomach clenching as she took in the sight of his sweaty form. His muscles were tense, accenting all the ink on his body. He looked more relaxed despite his aggressive thrusts. He was finally giving her what she needed.

“Does it feel good princess?” He leaned down to kiss her cheeks, “Want me to keep working you into this mattress? You’re doing such a good job.” He breathed between kisses. “I can feel how close you are… you can let go baby, know you’re going to cum over and over again.”

The look on his face was so lustful, so intense. He was owning her. Bunny felt her cunt twitch around him. He was right, he’d keep going and going while she squirmed around in ecstasy.

She had been teased all day long. It wasn’t a shock to her that she would be close quickly, but this level of swiftness had her gasping. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Harry knew exactly what strings to pluck, what places to touch, what words to say. He was her ultimate dream.

He was hitting her perfectly. The slam of his hips into hers, holding her down, keeping her close to him, stroking her just right to make her body shake slightly with each thrust. She couldn’t get enough. The heat rose through her body as each fuck into her had her slipping onto the crest, head flooding her stomach.

A sob left her throat as she thrashed under him, his hands keeping her still as the last band snapped. Cumming all over him, she made noises she hadn’t ever before as her cunt pulsed around him, slick and hot while he fucked her through it.

“Yes, yes… that’s my fucking girl.” He snarled, smile feral as he watched her body tremble underneath his as she came for him. “Cum all over my cock. You’re perfect.” His praises washed over her, dropping her legs and moving to hover over her properly as he kissed her. He wasn’t going to give it up, keeping himself buried in her in short thrusts as he relished in the feeling of her hole clenching up around him, but he was giving her a reprise. “I know. I know, baby.” He cooed. “Feels so good to be fucked the way you’ve needed. Needed me all this time, didn't you?”

“Mmmmm” Bunny breathed out a heavy whine, at a loss for words with how alive she felt. The orgasm was still settling in. Her body was left pliable, completely at his mercy, though she was feeling more confident than ever before. Her nails were digging deeper against the skin of his back, dragging his body into her. “So long, I’ve wanted you like this.”

Her tone landed on Harry’s ears like honey, he could hear how turned on she was though she was so relaxed into it. He knew she would soon slip into sub space if she hadn’t already. He could feel her hands moving over his back, how she melted further into the sheets when she saw his smile.

“Use me up, want to be covered in you.” Y/N was willing to push some limits, Harry would know what she was ready for. “It’s even better than I imagined—“ Y/N’s eyes rolled back at the extra roll of his hips that he managed to sneak in. “I want to cum for you again.”

“Covered in me?” He crooned. “Filthy girl. You’ve already covered me with your cunt. Creamin’ all over my cock. Made such a fucking mess.” He could see it when he looked between them. The mess she had made from her pleasure, how wet she was solely for him. He hadn’t seen anything more satisfying in his life. This pretty girl, all his.

“You will cum for me again, baby. Again and again and again…” his lips brushed her ear, shallow thrusts making her stomach jump. “Because you’re mine, aren’t you? My sweet little toy.” He pressed wet kisses against her jaw, sliding a hand behind her neck to arch her up and closer to him. “All mine. My mouth to kiss, my body to touch, my cunt to fuck. I own you.” Pulling his hips back, he thrust into her hard, stealing her breath. “You belong t’me. My girl. Gonna keep making you cum around my cock until you’re sleepy, barely able to take anymore. And you’ll take it because you’re my perfect little slut. Can’t believe how filthy you’ve shown me you are.”

Bunny’s back was arching up off of the mattress as the pleasure moved up her body, she was lost in the difference she felt post orgasm. With her body still sensitive, each lull of his hips made brought her higher and higher. Her moans were full of surprise, each feeling overwhelming in the best possible way.

Harry knew just how to guide his hips in the right spots, controlled and calculated. Reading her body was easy, he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for it to be this easy. He was lost in her, his hips picking up their pace as her breathing started to pick up again.

“Know it’s a lot, yeah? You like it don’t you?” Harry needed the confirmation, he could see her eyes starting to glaze over. “Getting drunk on my cock, my sweet little slut? It’s okay, get spacey if you need to, I got you.” Harry was itching to get her to another orgasm, desperate to hear her screams for him.

Her vision was blurry as she let him wreck her. Harry was absolutely correct. He was getting her drunk on him, making her mind fizzle out and all she could begin to focus on was how good she felt. Her body was buzzing, like her nerve endings were on fire. His fingers had dipped between them to stroke over her clit, making her heavy breathing quicken.

It was so easy for her body to give into him. Part of her felt sensitive, almost overstimulated, but she loved the feel of his hands on her. “Y-yeah…” she whispered breathily. “So good. I’m hot.” Her words were slurred slightly as she let her eyes roll back, the beginnings of her second orgasm rolling over her. It felt like a chain reaction. The constant stimulation, the fullness, how safe she felt with him, all of it made her body open to his needs.

“There we go… absolutely stunning.” He grinned, watching as her mouth fell open. “Almost there. I can feel it. You’re gonna give me another one so quickly, perfect body was made to be fucked.” He nuzzled his face into her, biting down on the skin to make it sting.

That snapped the band again, a sob leaving her mouth as she dug her nails into his back. Cumming hot all over his prick, she shook under him and let out a pathetic whimper as he fucked her through it. Her mind was mush, heart beating out of her chest as the second orgasm crested. She could feel it, how wet she was making him, how she was soaking his cock, his deep groan as he felt her contract around him. She hadn’t had two in a row that felt this intense. “Oh my god.” She laughed, eyes rolling back as he pressed up against her as he kept her full while she came.

“There she is. Y’good?” He stroked sweaty hair from her face, moving it from her mouth. The check in was for both of their good. He wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Color?” It was their first time truly playing and he needed that reassurance.

“Green. Green. M’so green, Daddy.” She mewled, eyes peeling open to look at him. His beautiful face, flushed and glistening with sweat as a tendril of hair curled over his forehead. His jaw was tight as he slowly ground into her, keeping it light as she recovered. “Do what you want with me.”

Harry took that green light and went with it.

Pulling up, he placed her legs up and gripped her thighs in his hands as he looked down at where they were connected. “You’re such a messy slut.” He groaned, pursing his lips and spitting right onto her cunt. “Rub it in. Go on.” There was a carnal lust, a primal urge to get messy and slick and have his scent on her and his cum inside of her. He was possessed, needing to get one more out of her. Her hand stroked over her clit, moving the mess of slick over her as he thrust in deep and slow. It was a warm up for the final.

“That’s good, enough.” He whispered, squeezing her thigh as he sped up a little bit. Y/N didn’t want to stop, though. As much as her clit felt a bit sensitive, the slight pain felt good. There would be a deep rooted ache in her core tomorrow, she would remember exactly what happened with every move she made- and she loved it.

“I said that’s good.” His voice grit out, looking down at her in warning as he watched her fingers circle her clit. The sight was too good. Watching her breasts bounce and her skin ripple as he thrust, her glazed eyes and swollen, messy lips? It was porn to him. Seeing her fingers touch herself was too much. She didn’t stop, though. Looking into his eyes, she smiled and continued the motions. Her face was smug, and Harry didn’t like that.

She continued her disobedience as she felt the pleasure coming back, his cock stroking deep and making her feel that fulness she had always wanted. It was a thrill to disobey for once, wanting to see what he would do. His jaw was tight as he glared down at her, giving her one more chance to pull her hand away- but she simply shook her head. It felt too good, his cock paired with her stimulation and then she felt it.

Slap.

It happened so quickly. Her head moved to the side, a sting in her cheek. His hands dropping from her thighs and striking her face, not hard enough to make her ache, but enough to definitely feel it. His hand gathered her hand, pinning it to the bed as he snarled down at her. “What did I fucking say?”

A thrill went down her spine as she stared wide eyed up at him, her skin still stinging from the slap as he glared down at her with a look in his eyes he hadn’t shown her yet. “Are you that fucking cock dumb that you can’t listen to directions?” His thrusts sped up, looking down at the wide eyed girl underneath him. Her body jostled, a weak moan escaping her swollen mouth. “Huh? Didn’t tell you to keep touching that filthy cunt. Thought you were a good girl.” He spit, shaking his head. “Now look at you. Gushing all over my cock because I smacked you. I’ll do it again.” He warned, getting closer to her face. “I’ll make you fucking listen to me, brat. Knew you couldn’t be a good girl.”

Y/N let out a wet gasp, shaking her head as her brain started to swim. The shift in position had him right where she needed him. Her body was disgustingly hot, sweat dripping down her face as he got her closer and closer. It was pathetic, she knew. She was out of her mind, but the feeling that the hit had given her had gone right to her blood. Fueled her in a different way than sex had before. “Sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry, Daddy.” She whimpered out, trying to free her hand but to no avail.

“Yeah? You’re fuckin’ sorry?” He mocked in her whimpery voice. “Too fucking bad. Showing what a whore y’are. Cock’s too good for you, innit?” His grin was wide as he watched her nod. “Yeah, s’too good for a dumb little cunt like yours… Too fuckin’ bad it’s the only one I want.” He could see it, physically see it on her face how much she liked that combination. The degrading, the reminder that she was the only one he wanted. It was the beginning to her end.

“M’gonna, m’gonna cum.” She cried out, looking slightly panicked. “Please let me, I’ll be so good. I can’t-” She gasped as he gripped her face with his free hand, roughly holding her chin as he fucked into her without that control he used to have. He was fucking her the way he wanted to- and it was so good, it hurts.

“Hold it.” He grit, feeling his own coming on. He had never wanted to cum so badly in his entire life. This was the best sex he had thusfar, feeling his sweet Bunny clenching around his cock, sopping wet and enjoying his rough treatment. When she began to squirm, he repeated the slap, this time a bit rougher. “Impatient slut. My own personal whore, like being hit in that pretty little face. Shouldn’t let you cum at all..”

It was too late, though. That had sent her over the edge. She had tried, really. She really didn’t want to disobey, but the hit, the words, the perfect strokes into her cunt? The girl crumbled. A silent scream leaving her mouth as she took him, hips bucking up and moving down as she tried to escape the punishing thrusts. “No more- ohmygod, I’m sorry, I can’t-” She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to push him off, but he didn’t budge. It was too good.

“Fuck- fuck!” The struggling, the cunt clenching frantically around his cock, he couldn't hold on anymore. A growl escaped his throat as his balls tightened, cum pouring into her. The hot load fucked into her, his face burying against her own as his hips stuttered. White hot pleasure washed over him, her free hand dragging her sharp nails down his back as he grunted with each thrust, getting it inside of her. “Every drop. Take it.” He hissed, panting. His nerves felt like they were on fire, dipped into flames as he felt her body shaking under him while he filled her up.

Y/N mewled, eyes rolling back as she fell limp underneath him. The heat of his cum somewhat soothing, body twtiching slightly as he got deep one more time before stopping. She could feel his cock pulsing, cum weakly being shot into her as he finished his orgasm- but now she was hazy. Her mind clouded, slipping down into a lax state while she laid back, feeling his lips press against her throat.

They laid in silence for a moment, Harry’s arms trembling slightly as he lifted up to look at her. “Baby?” His gruff voice had softened, no more steely tone to it as he watched her lay still with her eyes close. “Hey… sweetheart. Need you to open your eyes n’tell me if you’re alright. Check in.” He leaned down to kiss her lips chastely, watching her eyes peel open and take him in.

“Daddy?” She croaked, brinkley wetly up at him as her lip started to tremble. “Thank you. Need you. Please.” Her shaky voice made him coo, lifting a hand to push her hair out of the way and wipe the sweat off the best he could. “Was I good? I’m sorry. I didn’t listen.”

Harry had a feeling that would happen, but he was quick to reassure. “No, none of that. My perfect girl. Did so good for me. Came for me three times… Just perfect. M’so proud of you.” His voice was the most soft he had ever heard himself speak. Then again, he never had wanted to take care of someone like this before. Aftercare was important for all, but for this girl? He would do anything for her.

“Really?” She blinked up at him, hand reaching to him to place it on her cheek again. “I just want you happy. I want to make you proud. I feel so good.” She rolled nudged her face into his hand as his thumb swiped over the skin. She was definitely in some sort of subspace, had been slipping into it all day. Thankfully, Harry was somewhat prepared.

“You always do. M’so happy you shared yourself with me.” He replied, leaning over to grab a few tissues from the side table. When she began to fuss, he comforted her with a kiss to the forehead, returning to his spot. “Not going anywhere. Just want to clean up. I think we should do a bath in a few minutes. What do you think?” He nudged her to open her eyes that had drifted closed again. “Hm? Need those pretty eyes, baby.”

“Yeah.” she peeped. “So sticky.” The mix of cum and sweat, while erotic at the time, was uncomfortable to lay in. “Can we cuddle? Please?” There was a slight hesitance in her tone, as if he would say no to her about anything at all. As if he wouldn’t hand her the world in the palm of her hand if he could. She had no fucking idea how much she meant to him, how he would do anything he could for her. She was his angel, his temptation, his treasure.

“Always.” Lips pressed against her own, exhaling as he pulled back. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything at all. You’ve just got to ask.”

“Never leave me.” The reply was quiet, mumbled into the warm, sex stained air. “Keep me. I need you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the request. He wasn’t sure she would always want that- but for as long as she did?

“Promise. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be yours.”

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salemoleander · 1 year

Text

"My teeth hurt," Martyn says.

He and Scott are on the deck, enjoying the morning sun before it has the chance to get humid; Scott is busy crafting sugarcane into paper while Martyn is (ostensibly) trying to carve a bowl.

"What, like- cavities? We've only been here for a few days, and I know you're eating the same fish and dried kelp as me." Scott pauses, holding a fresh sheaf of paper. "-and if you're not, and you've been holding sweets out on me, I'll be pissed."

Martyn huffs a laugh, then grimaces when pain shoots up through his sinuses. Ambling over to the table, he half-sits, half-leans on the back of one of their deck chairs.

"Nah, same food as you. Man, I don't know what I did. TNT to the face carry over, d'you reckon?"

He grins, and Scott blanches. Well, shit.

"Alright, what's wrong with my mouth?" Martyn asks, stress rising when Scott doesn't answer. "I've still got teeth, right?"

Scott nods sharply. He wavers on an answer for a moment before sighing. "Yeah. You've just got some new ones, seems like."

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

The hard part of suddenly having shark teeth, Martyn quickly discovers, is that they are not particularly designed for beings with lips, and certainly not ones that talk.

He tells Scott this, nursing several sore spots on his lips and tongue.

"Have you considered talking less?"

"Oh, screw you."

Scott rolls his eyes, and they go back to sorting through chests in companionable silence. Waves gently lap against the edge of their island, while bamboo canes creak and shift. After a few minutes Scott says, "In the- last time. I remember being relieved, a bit, that even though Cleo and I chose each other-"

"Exactly the conversation I wanted to have," Martyn deadpans.

"Would you shut up? Honestly." Scott smiles, but his jaw flexes as he does and Martyn resolves to shut up and let him say this, whatever it is. At least for the next ten or fifteen seconds. Probably.

"Anyways. I was a tiny bit relieved that I was paired with Pearl, because she was human. And I'd seen how it was for BigB getting canine features and Joel getting whatever the hell from Etho, and you, y'know..."

"Rotting?"

"Eugh. Yeah." Scott looks through their fence-lattice walls and out to the water. "But Pearl didn't stay human."

Martyn raises an eyebrow. (For effect. If Scott is doing a dramatic monologue towards the ocean, Martyn at least gets to make faces, whether or not Scott sees him. Them's the rules.)

"She got kind of... wolf-y? Or more accurately, the game made her wolfy. Not like Ren, not nearly that elegant a combination."

Scott's voice is bitter, an edge to it that Martyn associates with fireworks going off too-close by. "I woke up one morning and my teeth were sharp and there were too many for my mouth. And it hurt, and the worst part was knowing this wouldn't be happening if we'd just done what the game wanted."

Blinking, Martyn says, "Oh." Brilliant. Nailed the response, there.

"I just wanted to tell you. That it might- those might be my fault, because it seems like whatever runs this game doesn't like me very much. There's a reason I set up alone out here."

Martyn- ignoring the ache from his jaw and the kernel of self-interest that tells him to get while the getting is good- scoffs. "None of that, thank you! I don't care if bloody Herobrine has it out for you, we're sticking together."

Relief washes over Scott's face. Martyn adds, "If whoever runs this circus thinks unlimited knives for teeth is a punishment, they're mad."

"Clearly! You were already enough of a menace." Released from whatever tension kept him still, Scott reaches over to flip another chest lid up and starts rifling through. "It's like trying to annoy Joel by giving him too many TNT minecarts."

Martyn snorts. "Right! Once my mouth gets the memo about where everything is now I'll be doing fine- probably better than I was before! A supernatural entity trying to tell me who I can be friends with? C'mon, nothing that stupid is busting the Mean Gills up."

He almost believes it.

#martyn #scott #scott smajor #inthelittlewood #i dont know how this happened??? i just wrote for like. an hour straight #this is not normally how writing works for me but I am not complaining #limited life #mean gills #24lsmp #fic #life series #trafficblr #salem tag #salem fic

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yournameloveskpop · 3 months

Text

Rival Hearts

Paring: Beomgyu x Reader

Style: school AU, angst, fluff, romance, friendship

Warning: some abuse, some manipulation, a bit of violence, cold beomgyu

Word count: 14,030

Y/N hurried down the hallway, her heart racing with the excitement of the first day of high school. She rounded a corner at breakneck speed, only to crash into someone heading in the opposite direction. Papers and books flew everywhere.

"Watch it!" the boy snapped. He had a long wolf cut that almost covered his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost brooding look.

"I'm so sorry!" Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks burning as she bent down to help gather the scattered items.

"Don't bother," he retorted, swatting her hand away. "Just watch where you're going next time."

Taken aback by his rudeness, Y/N straightened up, her apologetic demeanor shifting to defiance. "I said I was sorry. No need to be so mean about it!"

The boy, who Y/N now recognized as Beomgyu from the rumors about his sharp tongue, glared at her. "Mean? You're the one not looking where you're going."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Y/N couldn't help but notice, despite his attitude, Beomgyu was really handsome. But then she remembered his words, and her annoyance flared up again.

Before they could continue their argument, a teacher's voice cut through the tension. "What's going on here? And why are you two not in class?"

"We were just—" Y/N started.

"Lost," Beomgyu finished for her, his voice losing some of its edge.

The teacher, understanding it was their first day, let it slide and instructed them to follow him to class. As they walked, Y/N and Beomgyu kept shooting glares at each other.

"It's clearly your fault we're late," Beomgyu muttered.

"My fault? You're the one who bumped into me!" Y/N retorted under her breath.

Entering the classroom, Beomgyu's demeanor changed slightly as he saw familiar faces from middle school. But his relief was short-lived when he realized Y/N was seated next to him.

"Great," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y/N, undeterred, whispered, "Looks like we're stuck with each other."

Beomgyu just sighed, a reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Despite their rocky start, there was an undeniable spark of intrigue between them. Class wasn't to bad as the two of them where to busy listening to the teachers lecture. As soon as the bell rang for next class y/n was up and already out of the room just so she didn't have to deal with him and focus on next class.

Beomgyu, still fuming from the earlier encounter, watched as Y/N made a beeline for the door the moment the bell rang.

He couldn't help the smirk that crept onto his face. "Well, that's one way to make an exit," he muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun, ever the instigator, elbowed Beomgyu playfully. "Hey, Beomgyu, did you give your new neighbor a welcome gift? Like, I don't know, a scowl and a cold shoulder?"

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, Yeonjun. She's just... infuriating."

"Infuriatingly interesting?" Hueningkai teased, waggling his eyebrows.

"More like a walking disaster," Beomgyu retorted, though his friends noticed the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

"Seems like fate has a sense of humor," Jeongin added with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Y/N, still simmering from the earlier encounter, recounted the tale to Chaeryeong and her friends, who listened with amusement. "And then he just brushed me off, like I was some sort of annoyance," Y/N huffed, crossing her arms.

Chaeryeong couldn't help but chuckle. "Mr. Grumpy, huh? That's a good one. Fits him perfectly."

As they were talking, Chaeryeong's sister, Chaeyeon, along with her friends Yuna, Yeji, Lia, and Ryujin, joined them. "What's this about Mr. Grumpy?" Chaeyeon asked with a grin.

Chaeryeong quickly filled them in on Y/N's collision with Beomgyu. The group erupted into laughter, with Yeji adding, "Oh, that's Beomgyu for you. Always walking around like he's got a cloud over his head."

"Don't let him get to you," Lia advised, patting Y/N's shoulder. "He's known for his... charming personality."

Just then, Beomgyu walked into the classroom, Yeonjun in tow. His gaze met Y/N's for a fleeting moment before he muttered something under his breath and looked away. Y/N, feeling the sting of his dismissive attitude, turned her head, focusing her attention back on her new friends.

"He's like a storm cloud on legs," Ryujin commented, noticing the exchange.

Yuna, always the optimist, chimed in, "Maybe he's just misunderstood?"

Y/N snorted. "More like misbehaving. I've never met someone so grumpy in my life."

The girls shared a knowing look, their laughter filling the room as Beomgyu and Yeonjun found their seats. Y/N couldn't help but feel a little better, surrounded by her new friends and their light-hearted banter, even with Mr. Grumpy in the same room. The day seemed to stretch on with Beomgyu and Y/N finding new ways to annoy each other, their bickering becoming a source of entertainment for their classmates. Every time they crossed paths, it was like watching a comedic showdown.

"Oops, sorry, didn't see you there, Mr. Grumpy," Y/N said sarcastically, as they narrowly avoided another collision in the hallway.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Maybe try looking where you're going, Mrs. Clumsy," he retorted, his tone dripping with mock concern.

Their classmates whispered and giggled, watching the two with amusement. "Those two are like a live-action sitcom," one student remarked to another.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Y/N found herself welcomed into the lively group of girls. They laughed and chatted, Yuna cracking jokes that sent them all into fits of laughter.

At a nearby table, Beomgyu sat with Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, and Hueningkai, trying to focus on their conversation. Hueningkai said something that made them all laugh, but Beomgyu's attention was unwittingly drawn to Y/N's laughter.

He glanced over, catching sight of Y/N smiling brightly, her eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed from laughing. She looked genuinely happy, and for a moment, Beomgyu found himself captivated.

He quickly snapped out of it, scolding himself mentally. "Ugh, why does she have to be so loud?" he muttered aloud, his annoyance clear.

Yeonjun, who had noticed Beomgyu's brief distraction, teased, "Loud? Or just hard to ignore?"

Beomgyu shot him a look. "Hard to ignore because she's loud," he clarified, trying to focus back on his friends.

As the weeks rolled by, the dynamic between Beomgyu and Y/N didn't improve. If anything, their constant bickering became a staple of the high school's daily drama. Despite their best efforts to steer clear of each other, fate – or perhaps their teachers' mischievous planning – always brought them back together, igniting yet another round of heated arguments.

In the middle of a particularly tense chemistry class, Y/N accidentally knocked over a beaker, causing a minor spill. Beomgyu, who was unfortunately her lab partner for the day, let out an exasperated sigh.

"Great, just great. Can't you do anything right, Mrs. Clumsy?" he groaned, grabbing some paper towels.

Y/N, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and irritation, shot back, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Grumpy. Not all of us can be perfect like you."

Their classmates snickered, watching the familiar scene unfold. Mrs. Lee, their teacher, intervened with a stern look. "Enough, you two. This is a chemistry lab, not a battlefield."

Despite the teachers' frequent interventions, Beomgyu and Y/N continued to butt heads at every opportunity. Beomgyu's cold demeanor never seemed to thaw around Y/N, and she, in turn, bristled at his every word.

Outside the classroom, Y/N's popularity soared. Her easygoing nature and genuine kindness drew people to her, and she became known as the school's social butterfly. This only added to Beomgyu's growing annoyance.

One day, while hanging out in the cafeteria, Hueningkai couldn't help but gush about Y/N. "You should've seen her playing video games last weekend. She's insanely good!"

Beomgyu's ears perked up, his expression souring. "You hung out with Y/N?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

"Yeah, she's really cool and fun," Hueningkai replied, not noticing Beomgyu's growing irritation.

Yeonjun chimed in, his eyes gleaming with a hint of admiration. "And have you seen her dance? It's like she's born to be on stage. Plus, her fashion sense is off the charts."

Beomgyu scoffed, trying to mask his discomfort. "Dancing? Gaming? Fashion? What are we, a fan club?"

Yeonjun and Hueningkai exchanged glances, their brief looks hinting at their small crushes on Y/N. They quickly changed the subject, sensing Beomgyu's rising frustration.

As the months passed, Y/N's popularity continued to grow. She was admired for her authenticity and warmth, qualities that endeared her to both students and teachers alike. Beomgyu, on the other hand, found himself increasingly isolated, his gruff exterior and constant battles with Y/N setting him apart from his peers.

During a school assembly, Y/N was called up to receive an award for her contributions to the school community. The applause was thunderous, with students and teachers alike showing their appreciation for her.

Beomgyu, sitting in the back with a scowl, couldn't help but feel a twinge of something he couldn't quite place. "Why does she have to be so... likable?" he muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she graciously accepted the award.

Yeonjun, sitting beside him, nudged him gently. "Come on, Beomgyu, even you have to admit she's pretty amazing."

Beomgyu just huffed, turning his attention away. "I don't have to admit anything."

Despite his outward disdain, Beomgyu couldn't help but notice the way Y/N interacted with everyone around her. She was always surrounded by a group of friends, laughing and chatting animatedly. Her presence seemed to light up the room, a stark contrast to Beomgyu's more reserved and brooding nature.

In the hallways, whenever Beomgyu and Y/N crossed paths, their exchanges were always sharp and filled with sarcastic remarks. Yet, there was an undeniable energy between them, a tension that neither could ignore.

"Watch where you're going, Beomgyu," Y/N would say, her tone teasing yet edged with frustration.

"Right back at you, Y/N," Beomgyu would retort, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Their classmates often watched these exchanges with a mix of amusement and curiosity, wondering what the next chapter in the ongoing saga of Beomgyu and Y/N would bring. The two of them had become an enigma, a source of endless speculation and gossip.

Unbeknownst to them, their constant bickering and undeniable chemistry had started to draw more attention than either of them realized. Their classmates whispered and speculated, all of them eagerly anticipating the next encounter between the school's most unlikely duo.

The weekend had finally arrived, and Y/N was determined to enjoy it. Her first task: completing all her homework early on Saturday morning. After several hours of diligent work, she completed her assignments, freeing up the rest of her weekend. Feeling accomplished, she decided to treat herself by visiting the local record store to buy Metallica's latest album, a treat she had been longing for.

Upon entering the store, Y/N's mood lightened instantly. She greeted Mr. Kim, the owner, with a cheerful "Good morning!" and headed straight for the metal/rock section. Her eyes quickly found the prize – the latest Metallica album. As she reached out to grab it, another hand landed on it simultaneously.

Looking up in surprise, Y/N's heart sank as she saw Beomgyu, his expression mirroring her own annoyance. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Buying an album, what does it look like?" Beomgyu retorted, not letting go of the album. "I got here first, let go."

"No way, I touched it first!" Y/N insisted, her grip firm on the album.

Their bickering escalated quickly, catching the attention of Mr. Kim, who rushed over to mediate. "Hey, hey, let's not turn my store into a battlefield. How about a fair game to decide who gets the album?"

Reluctantly, both Y/N and Beomgyu agreed, curious about what Mr. Kim had in mind.

"Alright," Mr. Kim began, "first question: Name Metallica's drummer."

"Easy, Lars Ulrich," Y/N answered confidently.

"Correct!" Mr. Kim said. "Now, Beomgyu, name the lead vocalist."

"James Hetfield," Beomgyu replied, a smug look on his face.

"Right again. Next question: What year was their album 'Master of Puppets' released?"

"1986," Beomgyu said quickly, beating Y/N to the answer.

Mr. Kim nodded, impressed. "Y/N, your turn. Name the song Metallica won their first Grammy for."

"'One'," Y/N answered, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Tied now. Final question: What's the name of Metallica's first live album?"

Beomgyu thought for a moment before replying, "'Live Shit: Binge & Purge'."

Mr. Kim raised his eyebrows. "Correct. Looks like Beomgyu wins."

Y/N's face fell as Beomgyu let out a triumphant cheer, snatching the album and holding it just out of her reach. "Looks like victory is mine, Mrs. Clumsy."

Frustrated and disappointed, Y/N left the store, muttering about Beomgyu's childishness.

Beomgyu approached the counter to purchase the album, but as he looked at the door through which Y/N had exited, his smile faded. A twinge of guilt nagged at him. He hadn't really cared much about the album initially, but the competitive spirit had taken over when he saw Y/N reaching for it.

Mr. Kim, noticing Beomgyu's conflicted expression, commented, "You know, sometimes winning the battle can feel a bit hollow."

Beomgyu sighed, looking down at the album in his hand. "I guess," he murmured, his thoughts drifting to Y/N's disappointed face.

As Beomgyu walked out of the record store, clutching the newly acquired Metallica album, his triumph was tinged with an odd sense of regret. He had won the album, yes, but at what cost? Their rivalry, always simmering, had just intensified. He pondered over this as he headed home, the album in his hand a symbol of a victory that felt increasingly hollow.

Come Monday, the school corridors were buzzing with the usual energy. Y/N, surrounded by her friends Felix, Seungmin, Yuna, Lia, and others, recounted her weekend misadventure at the record store.

Felix, leaning against a locker, asked curiously, "So, did you finally get that Metallica album you were raving about?"

Y/N's expression soured. "No, thanks to Mr. Grumpy. He snagged it in a quiz-off," she grumbled, still feeling the sting of defeat.

Seungmin, his eyebrows raised in surprise, chimed in, "Wait, you're into metal? That's unexpected... and cool!"

Yuna, with a playful smirk, added, "Looks like you and Beomgyu have more in common than just your love for arguing."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Please, the only thing we share is a music taste, unfortunately."

Their conversation continued, a mix of teasing and laughter, but Y/N couldn't shake off the irritation that Beomgyu had beaten her to the album.

Meanwhile, in another part of the school, Beomgyu was with Jeongin, Hueningkai, Yeonjun, and Heeseung, proudly showing off his Metallica album. The plastic wrap was still intact, untouched since he bought it.

Jeongin whistled appreciatively. "Nice win, man. But aren't you going to open it?"

Beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly. "Haven't got around to it yet."

Hueningkai, leaning over to get a better look, said, "You know, Y/N was after this album too. Funny how you both like the same stuff."

Beomgyu's expression hardened slightly at the mention of Y/N. "Yeah, a real riot," he muttered sarcastically.

Yeonjun, ever the observer, noted, "Seems like your battle with Y/N is more than just verbal sparring."

Heeseung, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up. "Hey, why haven't you removed the plastic? Isn't that the best part about getting a new album?"

Beomgyu glanced at the album, his fingers tracing the sealed edges. "I guess I was more focused on winning than actually wanting it," he admitted, a rare moment of introspection showing on his face.

The group fell into an unusual silence, each pondering over Beomgyu's confession. The bell rang, signaling the end of their break, and they dispersed to their respective classes, the album still wrapped in its plastic, a silent testament to the complex dynamics of high school rivalries.

Throughout the day, whispers and glances were exchanged between the two factions. Y/N's friends teased her about her unexpected musical connection with Beomgyu, while his friends prodded him about the unopened album.

In the hallway, Y/N and Beomgyu's paths inevitably crossed. They exchanged a brief, tense glance, both acutely aware of the album incident.

"Enjoying your new album?" Y/N asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Absolutely," Beomgyu replied dryly. "It's sitting on my shelf, still in its plastic glory."

Y/N snorted. "Typical. Win a battle but lose sight of the war."

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. "And what war would that be?"

"The war of actually enjoying things, not just winning them," Y/N shot back, before turning on her heel and walking away.

Just as Y/N pivoted to walk away from Beomgyu, she collided head-on with someone else. Strong hands reached out, steadying her before she could stumble. She looked up to find herself face-to-face with Jeongin, who was grinning at her.

"Wow, are you okay?" he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Y/N, still a bit startled, managed a laugh in return. "Yeah, just my usual graceful self," she joked, trying to brush off the embarrassment.

Jeongin's smile widened, and he teasingly added, "Beomgyu was right about the whole 'clumsy' thing, huh? But it's kind of cute, in a way."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Thanks, I guess. It's nice to know my clumsiness is appreciated."

His gaze briefly flickered past her to where Beomgyu stood, watching them. He then turned back to Y/N with a more serious expression. "Do you think you and Beomgyu will ever stop fighting?"

Y/N shrugged, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I don't know. It's always him who starts it, and I'm not one to just let things slide. He'd have to stop first."

Their conversation was light, but it was clear that the ongoing feud with Beomgyu was a point of annoyance for Y/N. She didn't understand why he always seemed to target her, and it was exhausting to keep up the constant bickering.

Unbeknownst to her, Beomgyu's attention was fixed on their interaction. As he watched Jeongin and Y/N standing close together, chatting and laughing, a new, unfamiliar feeling simmered within him. He couldn't quite place it – it wasn't jealousy, surely. He didn't like Y/N, after all. But the sight of them together, so at ease, stirred something in him.

The bell rang, signaling the end of their break, and students began to scatter towards their classes. Y/N waved goodbye to Jeongin and made her way down the corridor, unaware of Beomgyu's eyes following her.

As she walked away, Beomgyu's gaze lingered on her retreating figure. The feeling inside him was unsettling, and he shook his head, trying to dispel it. He didn't like Y/N. That much was clear. So why did seeing her with Jeongin bother him so much?

The rest of the day was filled with the usual hustle and bustle of school life, but Beomgyu found himself distracted. The image of Y/N laughing with Jeongin kept replaying in his mind, accompanied by that strange, unsettling feeling.

After school, as he walked home with the Metallica album in his backpack, he couldn't help but think about Y/N's words from earlier. "The war of actually enjoying things, not just winning them." Her words echoed in his head, and he wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was more to their interactions than just mindless bickering.

As the school year drew to a close, the excitement for summer break was palpable. The students eagerly anticipated their well-deserved freedom, and none more so than Y/N and Beomgyu, who were ready for a respite from their constant bickering. Yet, there was a sense of curiosity in the air about what the new school year would bring for their ongoing rivalry.

During the break, Y/N kept busy with her close-knit circle of friends. She often met up with Yeonjun, Hueningkai, and others, making the most of the summer days. Beomgyu, though not particularly thrilled about Y/N's inclusion, found himself in these gatherings more often than not, thanks to their mutual friends.

One such day, Y/N and Beomgyu found themselves at a group hangout in the park, along with a large crowd of friends: Yeonjun, Hueningkai, Taehyun, Soobin, Jeongin, Wooyoung, Chanbin, Felix, Yuna, Lia, Chaeryeong, Chaeyeon, Ryujin, Yeji, and of course, Beomgyu.

Yeonjun, always the life of the party, was in high spirits. He turned to Y/N with a mischievous grin. "Hey Y/N, have you ever heard my rendition of Bon Jovi? I've been practicing just for you," he teased, strumming an air guitar.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please, spare us the torture, Yeonjun."

Beomgyu, who was sitting a little apart from the group, couldn't help but overhear. He watched, his expression souring as Yeonjun continued his playful serenade.

Hueningkai nudged Beomgyu, noticing his discomfort. "What's up with you? Jealous of Yeonjun's mad guitar skills?"

Beomgyu scowled. "Please, I could play circles around him."

"So, why don't you?" Hueningkai challenged with a smirk.

Beomgyu hesitated, then shook his head. "Not worth it. I'm not here to entertain Y/N."

Yeonjun, meanwhile, had grabbed Y/N's hand, twirling her around in an impromptu dance. Y/N was laughing, clearly enjoying the moment, but Beomgyu felt an irritating twinge in his chest at the sight.

"Looks like someone's enjoying the spotlight," Taehyun commented, watching the scene with amusement.

Beomgyu muttered under his breath, "More like hogging it."

The summer afternoon at the park was a mosaic of laughter, games, and shared stories, with Beomgyu sitting a bit apart, seemingly lost in thought. His friends were fully engaged in a spirited game of charades, but Beomgyu's attention was often drawn to Y/N, who was right in the thick of it.

"Man, you've been staring at Y/N the whole time. What's up?" Soobin teased, nudging Beomgyu.

"I'm not staring. Just... wondering how she manages to trip over nothing," Beomgyu replied, trying to sound indifferent.

"Sure, sure," Hueningkai chuckled. "Whatever you say, man."

Yeonjun, overhearing the exchange, joined in. "Come on, Beomgyu, admit it. You find her fascinating."

"Fascinatingly annoying," Beomgyu retorted, but his gaze unconsciously drifted back to Y/N.

As the afternoon wore on, they all took turns sharing funny and embarrassing stories. When it was Y/N's turn, she launched into a hilarious tale about a camping trip gone wrong, complete with wild gestures and comical expressions.

"...and then I walked straight into the tent pole!" Y/N concluded, sending everyone into fits of laughter.

Even Beomgyu couldn't help but chuckle, though he quickly masked it with a cough.

The sun began to lower in the sky, signaling the end of their day at the park. As everyone started saying their goodbyes, Beomgyu and Y/N found themselves awkwardly facing each other.

"So, uh, see you around, Y/N," Beomgyu muttered, not sure why he felt the need to say anything at all.

"Yeah, see you, Beomgyu. Try not to miss me too much," Y/N quipped with a teasing smile.

Beomgyu just huffed and turned away, but inside, her words left him feeling oddly unsettled.

As he walked home alone, Beomgyu replayed the day's events in his head. Y/N's infectious laugh, her storytelling, the way she had everyone captivated – it was all so irritatingly endearing.

"Why does she have to be like that? Why does it even matter to me?" he mumbled to himself, kicking at a stray stone on the sidewalk.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his thoughts about Y/N than mere annoyance. As he pondered this, the sun set, casting long shadows on the path before him.

The quiet streets echoed with the remnants of the day's laughter and conversations. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension about the upcoming school year. His thoughts were a jumble of confusion and curiosity about his and Y/N's interactions. What did this all mean for their ongoing rivalry? And more importantly, why did it matter so much to him?

As the second half of the summer holidays unfolded, Y/N's presence in the group hangouts became increasingly scarce, leaving everyone, including Beomgyu, wondering why. Even Beomgyu, who would never admit it, found himself missing her usual lively banter and energy.

One day, when Y/N finally did show up, she was immediately surrounded by a flurry of questions.

"Where have you been hiding?" Yeonjun asked, his tone playful yet curious.

"Yeah, we've missed you at our epic video game battles," Hueningkai added, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Y/N offered them a sheepish smile. "Just needed some me-time, you know? A bit of peace and quiet at home."

Her explanation seemed to satisfy most of the group, but there was a sense that she was holding something back. A few weeks later, Y/N had an announcement that piqued everyone's curiosity.

"I want you guys to meet someone special," she said, a mysterious smile on her lips.

The day of the introduction arrived, and the group eagerly awaited Y/N's arrival. She walked in, hand in hand with a guy none of them had seen before. The reactions were immediate and varied – gasps of surprise, amused smirks, and even playful jealousy from Yeonjun and Hueningkai.

"This is Hwan," Y/N said, beaming. "He's a year older and goes to a different school. Our moms are friends, so we've known each other for a while. But we only recently started dating."

Beomgyu, who had been quiet, felt a strange twist in his gut at the word 'boyfriend.' He eyed Hwan, his expression turning cold and dark. There was an inexplicable feeling of discomfort at seeing Y/N so close to someone else.

Hwan, oblivious to Beomgyu's reaction, greeted everyone warmly. "It's great to meet all of you. Y/N's told me a lot about her amazing friends."

The group chatted and asked Hwan questions, trying to get to know him better. Y/N looked genuinely happy, her laughter and smiles directed mostly at Hwan.

Beomgyu, however, couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling. He found himself disliking Hwan without even knowing him. "So, you've been ditching us for him?" he finally asked, his tone sharper than intended.

Y/N looked taken aback by his tone. "Well, Beomgyu, I didn't realize I needed your permission to have a life outside this group," she retorted, her tone matching his.

There was an awkward pause before Yeonjun stepped in, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, let's not start World War III here. We're just happy to meet Hwan, right, Beomgyu?"

Beomgyu's eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N and Hwan laughing together. His friends noticed his unusual silence and fixed gaze.

"Earth to Beomgyu," Taehyun said, waving a hand in front of him. "You've been staring at Y/N and what's-his-face all day."

Beomgyu grunted dismissively, "Just observing the new guy. He's... too nice."

Yeonjun chuckled, "Too nice? That's a new one. What's wrong with being nice?"

"Nothing," Beomgyu snapped. "It's just... it's not normal. No one's that perfect."

As Hwan tried to strike up a conversation with Beomgyu later, Beomgyu's responses were cold and brief. "So, I hear you're into rock music. What bands are you into?" Hwan asked, trying to find common ground.

"Various ones," Beomgyu replied curtly, not meeting Hwan's eyes.

Hueningkai, picking up on the tension, leaned in. "You know, you could try being a bit friendlier. He seems like a decent guy."

Beomgyu just shrugged, still watching Y/N and Hwan from the corner of his eye. He couldn't shake off the feeling of annoyance at seeing them together.

Later, as the group started to leave, Beomgyu's thoughts were still muddled. The sight of Y/N with someone else had irked him more than he wanted to admit.

The start of the second year at school brought with it the usual buzz and excitement, but for Y/N and Beomgyu, it also reignited their old rivalry. This year, however, there was an added layer of tension due to Y/N's new boyfriend, Hwan. Beomgyu's behavior towards Y/N had become more standoffish than ever.

As Y/N tried to focus on her friends and Hwan, Beomgyu's presence loomed larger, making it difficult for her to ignore him. His disdain for her new relationship was evident, his body language speaking volumes whenever she mentioned Hwan.

One day, their usual snide remarks escalated into a full-blown argument. As they crossed paths in the crowded hallway, Beomgyu couldn't resist a jab. "So, Y/N, still playing happy couples with Hwan?"

Y/N, already on edge, snapped back. "What's your problem, Beomgyu? Can't stand seeing someone else happy?"

Their voices rose, drawing the attention of their classmates. Beomgyu's expression was one of scorn. "Happy? Please, you're just blinded by his 'niceness'. It's all an act. Just because your moms are friends doesn't mean he's good for you."

Y/N stopped in her tracks, facing him squarely. "And what would you know about it? Why do you even care?"

"I don't care," Beomgyu retorted quickly. "It's just obvious he's not right for you."

Y/N's frustration boiled over. "That's not your decision to make. You're not my dad, Beomgyu."

Beomgyu scoffed. "Clearly, someone needs to be. You're not seeing the real picture here."

"What 'real picture'? That you can't stand the thought of me being with someone?" Y/N accused, her voice tinged with anger.

"That's not it," Beomgyu shot back. "He's just... too perfect. It's unnatural. You're falling for a facade."

Their argument attracted a small crowd, their classmates whispering and nudging each other. Hueningkai and Taehyun attempted to intervene.

"Guys, chill. This isn't the place," Heeseung said, trying to mediate.

"Yeah, you're causing a scene," Taehyun added, glancing nervously at the gathering students.

Y/N, ignoring them, continued, "Why do you even care? Why do you hate me so much, Beomgyu?"

"I don't hate you," Beomgyu replied, his voice lowering slightly. "I just... I don't like seeing you being fooled."

"Fooled?" Y/N echoed, her voice rising again. "By who, Hwan? Because he's been nothing but genuine."

Before Beomgyu could respond, a couple of teachers arrived, having been alerted by the noise. "What is going on here?" one of them demanded, making their way through the crowd.

Y/N and Beomgyu were both taken by surprise, their argument abruptly halted. "It's nothing, sir," Y/N tried to explain, but her voice was shaky.

"This doesn't look like 'nothing' to me," the teacher said sternly, looking at Beomgyu. "You two, come with me. Now."

As they were led away, Beomgyu glanced over his shoulder, calling out to Y/N, "Just watch, Y/N. Don't come crying to me when he turns out to be an asshole."

Y/N, her face a mix of anger and confusion, shot back, "I wasn't planning on it."

In the corridor, the group of friends stood in a tight circle, still reeling from the intensity of the argument between Y/N and Beomgyu. Yeonjun was the first to break the silence.

"Did you guys see Beomgyu's face? He looked like he was about to explode," he said, still processing the scene.

Lia nodded, her expression one of concern. "Yeah, and Y/N wasn't backing down either. I've never seen her that angry."

Yuna chimed in, "I think Beomgyu's been a bit too much lately. Ever since Y/N started dating Hwan, he's been acting weird."

"So you think he's jealous?" Taehyun asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"It's not just jealousy," Hueningkai interjected thoughtfully. "He's always been kind of harsh with Y/N, even before Hwan. It's like he's looking for her attention."

Jeongin agreed, "Yeah, it's like they've been in this weird dance since day one. He teases her, she snaps back. It's like they can't help themselves."

Soobin, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "I think Beomgyu might not even realize his feelings. He's always putting up this tough exterior, but with Y/N, it's different."

Yeonjun nodded. "Exactly. It's like he doesn't know how to express himself properly, so he ends up being mean or picking fights."

Lia sighed, "But that's no excuse for the way he's been acting. I mean, Y/N's in a relationship now. He needs to respect that."

Yuna added, "And Y/N's been trying to avoid conflict. She's been really happy with Hwan. Beomgyu needs to deal with his feelings in a healthier way."

Jeongin looked thoughtful. "You know, I wonder if Beomgyu even realizes how his actions affect Y/N. He's so caught up in his own feelings."

"Whatever it is, I hope they sort it out soon. It's affecting the whole group." Heeseung concluded.

As they continued discussing, trying to make sense of their friends' complex dynamic, it was clear that the situation had left them all feeling a mix of worry and frustration. Meanwhile, in separate classrooms, Y/N and Beomgyu were left to their thoughts. Y/N sat by the window, her mind racing. Despite Beomgyu's cold demeanor towards her, she couldn't deny the strange attraction she felt towards him. His presence always stirred a mix of emotions within her.

Then there was Hwan, kind and gentle, who had entered her life through their parents' connection. He was everything Beomgyu wasn't – understanding, patient, and warm. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing.

In another classroom, Beomgyu sat slumped at a desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He thought about Y/N and their constant bickering. Deep down, he knew his behavior towards her was more than just annoyance. The realization that someone else was making her happy, especially someone like Hwan, bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

"Anyone would be better than Hwan... even me," he muttered to himself, a frown etching his face. The thought surprised him, revealing a side of his feelings he hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

The school corridors buzzed with the usual end-of-day chatter, but for Y/N and Beomgyu, it was as if they were in a bubble of their own making. They moved through the crowd, deliberately avoiding each other, yet unable to stop the furtive glances that betrayed their mutual awareness.

Y/N walked with Lia and Yuna, her mind still replaying the argument. Lia, noticing Y/N's distraction, nudged her gently. "You okay? You seem miles away."

Y/N sighed, "Yeah, just thinking about the whole Beomgyu thing. I don't get why he's acting like this."

Yuna, always the more outspoken, chimed in, "Honestly, it's like watching a drama unfold. But you two need to figure things out. This tension is unbearable."

Across the hall, Beomgyu walked with Yeonjun and Hueningkai, his expression sullen. Yeonjun, glancing over at Y/N, then back at Beomgyu, said, "You know, you could just talk to her. Clear the air."

Beomgyu shook his head, "And say what? 'Sorry for being a jerk but I actually might like you?' That would go over well."

Hueningkai laughed, "It's better than this silent war you're both waging."

As the day wound down and they all walked their separate ways home, the air was thick with questions and uncertainties. The events of the day had only added to the complexity of Y/N and Beomgyu's relationship.

Y/N, walking home, couldn't shake off her mixed feelings. "He's so infuriating," she muttered to herself. "Why does he have to be so... so Beomgyu?"

Meanwhile, Beomgyu's thoughts were similarly conflicted. "What's wrong with me?" he pondered. "Why can't I just leave her alone?"

Their friends, meanwhile, continued to discuss the situation amongst themselves. "Something's got to give," Taehyun said. "They can't keep going like this."

Yeonjun nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It's like they're drawn to each other but too stubborn to admit it."

Lying in his room, Beomgyu stared at the ceiling, his mind clouded with thoughts of Y/N. Seeing her so happy with Hwan stirred a complex web of emotions within him. Turning to his side, his gaze fell on the still-sealed Metallica album on his desk, a tangible reminder of his and Y/N's tumultuous interactions.

Frustrated by the constant presence of Y/N in his thoughts, Beomgyu decided to visit the record store the next evening. He needed a distraction, something to focus on besides the confusing emotions swirling inside him.

As he rounded a corner in the store, Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat. There, in the midst of an argument, were Y/N and Hwan. Beomgyu's eyes narrowed as he noticed Hwan's grip on Y/N's wrist, subtle but firm.

The argument between Y/N and Hwan seemed to falter as Hwan spotted Beomgyu. His grip loosened, and Y/N quickly pulled her hand away, holding it close to her body. Beomgyu could see Y/N struggling to hold back tears, her expression a mix of anger and hurt.

Beomgyu, despite his complicated feelings towards Y/N, felt a surge of protectiveness. "Is everything okay here?" he asked, his voice betraying his concern.

Y/N, startled by his sudden appearance, wiped her eyes quickly. "It's nothing, Beomgyu. Just a small disagreement, that's all," she said, her voice slightly shaky.

Hwan, trying to regain composure, offered a forced smile. "Yeah, we're fine. Just discussing some... music preferences."

Beomgyu's gaze lingered on Y/N, sensing there was more to the story. "If you're sure," he said, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

Y/N nodded, avoiding Beomgyu's gaze. "Yeah, we're fine. Thanks."

Beomgyu, still concerned, lingered for a moment longer before turning to browse through the albums. His mind, however, was far from the music in front of him. The encounter with Y/N and Hwan had left him feeling uneasy.

After selecting the Alice Cooper album he had come for, Beomgyu glanced back at Y/N and Hwan. They seemed to have calmed down, but the tension was still palpable.

Beomgyu's walk home was filled with conflicting emotions. The image of Y/N trying to hold back tears at the record store lingered in his mind, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit. Once home, he impulsively dialed Jeongin's number, needing to share what he'd seen.

"Jeongin, I need to talk," Beomgyu began, the moment his friend picked up the call.

"Sure, Beomgyu, what's up?" Jeongin's voice came through, sounding concerned.

"I was at the record store, and I saw Y/N with Hwan. They were arguing, and Hwan... he had a tight grip on her wrist. It looked really possessive," Beomgyu explained, his voice a mixture of worry and confusion.

"That sounds pretty intense. Are you okay?" Jeongin's concern was evident.

"I don't know," Beomgyu admitted. "It's bothering me more than it should. She looked really upset, Jeongin."

Jeongin paused before replying, "It's good you're worried about her, Beomgyu. Maybe you should check if she's okay."

Beomgyu sighed, "I don't know if I should get involved. We're not exactly friends."

Jeongin encouraged, "Maybe this is a chance to change that. Just a friendly check-in to make sure she's alright."

Beomgyu ended the call with a lot to ponder. Jeongin's words resonated with him, suggesting a new perspective on his relationship with Y/N.

The next day at school, Y/N appeared distant and tired, her usual energy noticeably dimmed. Her friends immediately picked up on her changed demeanor.

"Y/N, you look exhausted. Is everything alright?" Lia asked with a concerned frown as they walked to class.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well," Y/N replied, trying to brush off her friend's concern.

Yuna, not convinced, prodded further, "It's about Hwan, isn't it? You can talk to us, you know."

Y/N managed a weak smile. "It's nothing, really. Just a small argument. I don't want to talk about it."

The friends exchanged worried glances but decided not to push her further. "Okay, but we're here for you, whenever you're ready," Lia reassured her.

Beomgyu observed Y/N from across the schoolyard, her usual lively spirit noticeably dimmed. Jeongin's words about reaching out to her rang in his ears, stirring a conflict within him. He wanted to help, but their history of antagonism left him uncertain about her reception.

As the weeks went by, Y/N's condition seemed to worsen. She became increasingly quiet, her vibrant energy fading. One day, Beomgyu noticed a bruise on her neck, poorly concealed with makeup. His usual annoyance with her transformed into concern, and he found himself walking towards her before he could change his mind.

Yeonjun, who had been chatting with Beomgyu, was startled as he watched his friend abruptly walk away. "Hey, where's Beomgyu off to?" he muttered, his eyes following Beomgyu's determined stride.

Approaching Y/N, Beomgyu blocked her path and firmly but gently took her hand, leading her to a quieter area. Y/N protested, "Beomgyu, what are you doing? Let me go!"

Ignoring her protests, Beomgyu pressed her gently against a wall in a secluded part of the schoolyard.

His voice was a mix of harshness and concern as he carefully pulled down her collar, revealing the extent of the bruise. "You thought you could hide that? He did this to you, didn't he?"

Y/N, struggling to maintain her composure, snapped back, "It's none of your business, Beomgyu. Leave me alone."

Beomgyu's expression was a mix of anger and worry. "I can't just stand by and watch this happen. I told you he wasn't good for you, didn't I?"

Y/N tried to push past him, but Beomgyu's hands on the wall beside her head blocked her escape. "You don't know anything about us. Just stay out of it," she said, her voice betraying her weakness.

Beomgyu, towering over her, softened his tone, the concern in his eyes evident. "Y/N, look at me. This isn't right. You don't deserve to be treated like this."

Tears began to well up in Y/N's eyes, her façade crumbling. "I thought... I thought he cared about me."

Seeing her vulnerability, Beomgyu's demeanor shifted entirely. He gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a comforting hug as she began to cry. "It's okay, Y/N. You're not alone in this."

As Y/N leaned into Beomgyu's embrace, her defenses crumbling, she found a sense of solace she hadn't expected. Her tears flowed freely, a release of the pent-up emotions she had been holding back.

Beomgyu, feeling the intensity of the moment, whispered, "It's okay, Y/N. Let it all out. You don't have to hold back."

Y/N, her voice breaking, responded, "I didn't know where else to go. I never thought I'd find comfort in you, of all people."

Beomgyu gently adjusted her collar to cover the bruise. "I know we've had our differences, but I can't just stand by and watch you get hurt."

Y/N, gripping his shirt, looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "Why are you doing this, Beomgyu? After everything?"

Beomgyu sighed, his expression softening. "Because no matter what's happened between us, I can't ignore when someone's in pain. Especially you, Y/N."

As they stood there, lost in the moment, Yeonjun and the rest of their friends appeared in the distance, having been led there by Yeonjun's concern.

"There they are," Yeonjun said, relief evident in his voice. "I knew something was up when Beomgyu bolted like that."

The group approached cautiously, sensing the gravity of the moment. "Is everything okay?" Lia asked, her voice laced with concern.

Y/N, wiping away her tears, tried to compose herself. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Thanks, Beomgyu," she said, stepping back from the embrace.

Beomgyu nodded, his gaze still protective. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here. We all are," he said, gesturing to their friends.

As the group enveloped Y/N, offering their support, Beomgyu stepped back, watching the scene with a mixture of relief and contemplation. The encounter had changed something between him and Y/N, opening a door to a new understanding and perhaps, a new beginning.

At their favorite spot in the schoolyard, Beomgyu, Jeongin, Hueningkai, Taehyun, Lia, Yuna, and Soobin gathered. The mood was unusually somber, their concern for Y/N palpable.

"Y/N's been really off these past few days," Lia started, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, she's not her usual self at all," Yuna added, frowning. "Her laugh, her smile... it's like they've just disappeared."

Beomgyu remained quiet, reflecting on his observations of Y/N. He had been keeping a close watch on her since learning about the issues with Hwan, though he hadn't shared this with the group. He couldn't help but miss the vibrancy Y/N usually brought to their group.

"I haven't seen her light up in weeks," Taehyun said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Remember how she used to brighten up the entire place?"

"Yeah," Hueningkai agreed, "and now, there's no sparkle in her eyes anymore. She seems... different, more fragile."

Beomgyu felt a familiar pang of concern. He knew more than he let on, especially about Y/N's struggles with Hwan, but he chose to keep this to himself. He still remembered how Y/N had confided in him that she tried to break up with Hwan multiple times since that evening at the record store but found it difficult due to Hwan's abusive behavior.

Jeongin glanced at Beomgyu, recalling the call they had that night. He had a rough idea of what might be happening between Hwan and Y/N, but he kept his suspicions to himself, noticing how Beomgyu had subtly shifted from his usual annoyance to a more protective stance, albeit still maintaining his tsundere demeanor.

"It's just not like her to be this quiet," Soobin commented, looking genuinely concerned.

"Has anyone talked to her about this?" Jeongin asked, probing carefully, careful not to reveal his conversation with Beomgyu.

"Not really, she keeps to herself these days," Lia replied. "It's like she's building walls around her."

In the schoolyard, Beomgyu's thoughts were a mix of frustration and concern. He knew the group was worried about Y/N, but he couldn't fully disclose what he knew about her situation with Hwan. He decided to keep an eye on her and be there for her when she was ready to talk.

The conversation shifted as Chaeryeong's upcoming birthday pool party became the topic. Everyone was excited, but Y/N seemed hesitant. Chaeryeong, noticing her reluctance, persistently begged her to attend. "Come on, Y/N, it won't be the same without you," she urged, following Y/N around the school.

Finally, Y/N relented, "Alright, alright, I'll come. Just stop following me!"

That evening, Y/N prepared for the party. She dolled herself up, trying to bring some normalcy back into her life, but her efforts were interrupted when Hwan unexpectedly walked into her room.

Hwan's smile was charming, his aura seemingly kind. "Wow, you look amazing," he complimented her, closing the door behind him.

But as soon as the door clicked shut, his demeanor changed. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his tone darkening.

Y/N, attempting to maintain her newfound confidence, replied, "I'm going to Chaeryeong's birthday party."

"Really? And you didn't think to tell me beforehand?" Hwan snapped, his gaze turning menacing.

Y/N, though scared from his previous violent outbursts, stood her ground. "I didn't think I needed your permission. You're not my dad."

Hwan's anger flared as he grabbed her hair firmly. "Don't get smart with me, Y/N. Remember, I'm your boyfriend."

"So, it's okay for you to cheat on me, but I can't go to a friend's birthday party?" Y/N retorted, her fear mingling with defiance.

Hwan tightened his grip. "You can go, but I'm coming with you. And about the cheating – watch what you say about me."

Y/N felt a mixture of anger and fear. "Fine, come with me. But don't think you can control me," she said, her voice trembling.

Hwan released her hair, a smirk crossing his face. "We'll see about that. Let's go."

As they descended the stairs, Hwan's mother noticed them. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Y/N. "Look at you, all dressed up! Where are you two headed?"

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but Hwan quickly interjected with a sweet voice, his arm around her waist. "We're going to Y/N's friend's birthday party."

His mother smiled, unaware of the tension between them. "That sounds lovely. Have a great time, you two."

Y/N, trying to maintain her composure despite Hwan's oppressive presence, managed a forced smile as they left for Chaeryeong and Chae-yeon's house. The prospect of being among friends at the party brought her a sense of relief, mixed with an undercurrent of dread due to Hwan's company.

Arriving at the house, Y/N rang the doorbell. Chae-yeon opened the door, her face lighting up upon seeing Y/N. She stepped forward and embraced Y/N warmly, then noticed Hwan. Her smile faltered slightly, a look of confusion crossing her face, but she didn't comment and welcomed them inside.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively. When Y/N entered the living room, everyone cheered, their faces brightening at her arrival. Chaeryeong, especially thrilled to see her, rushed over. "Y/N, you made it! Happy you're here!" she exclaimed, accepting Y/N's gift with a wide smile.

As Chaeryeong went to place the gift with the others, she offered drinks to her guests. Before Y/N could respond, Hwan interjected, "Y/N will have a soft drink, and I'll take a beer."

Chaeryeong gave Y/N a quick, puzzled look before heading to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

Lia and Yuna approached Y/N, their presence bringing a semblance of comfort. "Hey, Y/N, glad you could come!" Lia said with a smile.

"Yeah, we've missed you around," Yuna added, her tone warm.

Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, and Hueningkai joined in soon after, along with Jeongin, creating a small circle of friends around Y/N. She felt a bit more at ease, knowing Hwan wouldn't act out in front of everyone.

Beomgyu, meanwhile, watched from a distance, his protective instincts on high alert. The sight of Hwan next to Y/N stirred a mix of anger and concern within him.

When Chaeryeong returned with the drinks, she handed Hwan his beer and gave Y/N a 'soft' drink that was actually her favorite sweet alcoholic beverage, disguised as juice.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found an opportunity to slip away from Hwan, who was now engaged in conversation with a group of her friends. Seeking a moment of solitude, she wandered outside into the garden, where several people were enjoying the pool and the cool night air. Keeping her distance from the water, Y/N just wanted to breathe in the fresh air.

Soobin noticed Y/N by herself and walked over to join her. "Hey, Y/N, mind if I join you?" he asked gently, sitting beside her.

Y/N looked at Soobin, grateful for the company. "No, not at all. It's nice to get some air."

Soobin nodded, sensing her need for a calm moment. "You know, if you ever need to talk or anything, we're all here for you."

Y/N offered a small, thankful smile. "I know, and I really appreciate it. Tonight's been... a lot."

Soobin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just remember, you're not alone in this, okay?"

Y/N sighed softly, her gaze drifting to the night sky. "I'm just trying to figure things out. It's complicated."

Soobin sat alongside Y/N at Chaeryeong's birthday party, providing a comforting presence amidst the lively atmosphere. Their conversation flowed naturally, covering a range of topics.

"You know, we all really miss you hanging out with us," Soobin said gently. "It's not the same without your laugh and energy around."

Y/N offered a faint smile, her eyes distant. "I miss you guys too... with everyone."

"There's something else," Soobin added cautiously. "We've all noticed you don't seem as happy as before. You look... more tired, paler. Even Beomgyu's concerned, and he's usually so hard to read."

Y/N's thoughts drifted back to a recent encounter with Beomgyu. She remembered how he had found her alone, seen the bruises on her neck, and how he had offered her an unexpected moment of kindness and comfort. She longed to share her struggles with Hwan with her friends, but fear held her back. She was grateful, though, that Beomgyu had respected her wishes to keep it private until she was ready.

Their conversation was interrupted as Hwan emerged from the house, his voice falsely cheerful. "There you are," he said, lightly patting Y/N's head, causing her to flinch subtly.

Spotting the pool, Hwan's expression changed, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Hey, Y/N, how about a swim with me?" he suggested, trying to lure her away from Soobin.

Y/N hesitated, fear creeping into her voice. "I'd rather not, Hwan."

Hwan persisted, tightening his grip on her hand. "Oh, come on, it's a party! Swimming is fun, right?"

Soobin, noticing Y/N's discomfort, intervened. "She said she doesn't want to go in, man."

Hwan laughed it off. "It's just a dip," he assured, as he began to lift Y/N up.

Y/N's panic escalated; she cried out and struggled against Hwan's hold. "Please, put me down! I can't swim!"

Hwan disregarded her pleas, chuckling as if it were a joke. "You're just saying that. Come on, it'll be fun."

Several friends, aware of Y/N's fear of water, shouted for Hwan to stop, but he didn't listen. In a swift motion, he threw Y/N into the pool. The party fell silent as Y/N hit the water, gasping and flailing helplessly.

Beomgyu, watching from afar, felt a surge of fury. As Y/N struggled to surface, he rushed to the poolside, ready to act. Yeonjun was also prepared to dive in, but Beomgyu was quicker, plunging into the water. He reached the bottom of the deep end, where Y/N lay motionless, and swiftly brought her up to the surface.

Beomgyu gasped when he reached the surface but Y/N was unresponsive.

Yeonjun instructed everyone to back off, giving them space. Hwan, realizing the gravity of his actions, tried to approach, but Beomgyu's fierce glare and sharp command kept him at bay.

"Stay back!" Beomgyu yelled, his eyes blazing with anger.

Yeonjun, Hueningkai, and Taehyun formed a barrier, preventing Hwan from getting any closer. Meanwhile, Yuna and Chaeryeong rushed to find Chaeryeong's parents.

Chae-yeon confronted Hwan, her voice stern. "You need to leave my house. Now."

Hwan's expression darkened. "Leave? Seriously?"

"Yes," Chae-yeon insisted firmly. "Now."

Beomgyu carefully laid Y/N on the ground. Jeongin and Soobin hurried to fetch towels, while Lia went for dry clothes. Beomgyu checked Y/N's pulse and then, without hesitation, began administering CPR. He performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, followed by chest compressions, his focus solely on reviving Y/N.

After a tense minute, Y/N coughed violently, expelling water as she gasped for air. She turned to her side, her eyes meeting Beomgyu's, and clung to him, her body trembling from the ordeal.

Beomgyu wrapped his arms around her, offering warmth and protection. "It's okay, i got you. You're safe now," he whispered, his voice a mixture of relief and concern.

The crowd around them remained stunned, witnessing the dramatic turn of events. Beomgyu's quick actions had saved Y/N, and in that moment, the depth of his concern for her became evident to everyone.

Y/N clung tightly to Beomgyu, her body shaking with sobs as she sought comfort in his embrace. Beomgyu, feeling a mix of protectiveness and anger, held her close, his eyes scanning the area for any further threats.

Hwan, his demeanor rapidly shifting from concern to frustration, announced he was leaving.

He pushed past Yeonjun and the others, his voice firm as he addressed Y/N. "We're going home, now," he demanded.

Y/N, still nestled in Beomgyu's arms, looked up at Hwan with a mix of fear and defiance. She shook her head vehemently, her voice barely a whisper as she said, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Hwan's expression soured. His attempt at an apology came off as nothing more than a bitter retort. "I didn't know you couldn't actually swim," he muttered.

"Oh really? Her crying and begging wasn't enough," solving but bit ignored by Hwan.

As he reached out to grab Y/N, Beomgyu's protective instincts kicked in. He pulled her closer, his voice low and threatening, "Don't fucking touch her."

The intensity in Beomgyu's eyes sent a clear message to Hwan – he was aware of the truth, and he was firmly on Y/N's side.

Hwan, realizing the situation was turning against him, straightened up and began to leave, but not before rudely nudging Hueningkai and Yeonjun with his shoulder.

Chaeryeong and Chae-yeon's parents hurried out, followed by Chaeryeong and Yuna. Their father eyed Hwan with a stern look as Chae-yeon led him toward the front door.

Soobin and Jeongin returned, each holding a towel. Soobin handed one to Beomgyu. "Here, you both need to get dry," he said, his voice laced with concern.

Jeongin offered the other towel to Y/N. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the worry that everyone felt.

Y/N, still trembling, managed to nod. "I... I think so," she replied, her voice barely audible over her sobs.

Beomgyu, his gaze softening as he looked at Y/N, reassured her, "It's going to be okay. You're safe now."

Taehyun approached them, admiration in his eyes. "Beomgyu, that was incredible. You didn't hesitate for a second."

Beomgyu brushed off the praise. "I just did what needed to be done... beat Yeonjun to it though."

Yeonjun let out a playful huff and crossed his arms. "Yeah well, I let you have your time to shine for a change."

As the group rallied around Y/N, offering comfort and support, Lia arrived with dry clothes for Y/N. "Let's get you changed," she said gently, helping Y/N to stand up.

The atmosphere at the party had shifted dramatically from celebration to concern. In the midst of it all, the friends showed their unity and care for one another, especially for Y/N.

In a quiet room away from the party, Lia, Yuna, Chaeryeong, and her parents provided a safe haven for Y/N. Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she apologized repeatedly for ruining Chaeryeong's birthday.

"Don't worry about the party, Y/N. I'm just glad you're safe. That's all that matters." Chaeryeong quickly reassured her.

Once the initial shock subsided, Y/N began to open up about Hwan's abusive behavior, both mental and physical. "I've been so distant because... because of him," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I didn't know how to tell anyone. I was scared."

Chaeryeong and the others listened in stunned silence, their hearts heavy with empathy for Y/N's plight. Chaeryeong's parents discreetly excused themselves, allowing the girls to have a moment of privacy.

After the revelation, Lia and Yuna helped Y/N dry off and change into fresh clothes. Chaeryeong's parents, deeply concerned, decided to call Y/N's mother and inform her about everything that had transpired.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Beomgyu faced a barrage of questions from the boys.

"So you knew about Hwan?" Felix asked, his tone a mix of surprise and concern.

Beomgyu nodded, his expression solemn. "Yes, I knew. After I saw the bruises... I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Taehyun inquired, trying to understand Beomgyu's silence.

"It wasn't my place to tell," Beomgyu replied. "Y/N needed to come forward in her own time. I just wanted to make sure she was safe until then."

Jeongin added, "I had a feeling something was up after the call I had with Beomgyu. The pieces just didn't fit."

Yeonjun looked thoughtful. "It's hard to believe all this was happening right under our noses."

Hueningkai chimed in, "We need to be there for Y/N. Now more than ever."

Beomgyu's thoughts were elsewhere, though. As they talked about Y/N, he realized his feelings for her ran deeper than he'd admitted to himself. His heart fluttered at the thought of being there for her, not just as a rival or a friend, but perhaps something more in the future.

After changing, Y/N, Lia, Yuna, and Chaeryeong rejoined the party downstairs. Y/N, though still shaken, felt a sense of relief having shared her burden. She approached Beomgyu, her actions speaking louder than words as she gently gripped his shirt, seeking his comforting presence.

Chaeryeong's mother gathered everyone for a speech. "Tonight's events have been a reminder of the importance of friendship and support," she began. "We're grateful that Y/N is safe, thanks to the quick actions of her friends, especially Beomgyu. Let this be a lesson to us all to never hesitate to reach out for help."

The mood lightened as they moved to celebrate Chaeryeong's birthday properly. The cake was brought out, candles were lit, and everyone sang 'Happy Birthday.' The focus shifted to opening gifts, but the sense of community and mutual support lingered in the air.

As the party wound down following the cake and gift opening, Y/N remained close to Beomgyu, finding solace in his reassuring presence. The atmosphere had gradually shifted back to one of celebration, though the events of the evening lingered in the back of everyone's minds.

Guests began to say their goodbyes, thanking Chaeryeong for a memorable evening, carefully avoiding any mention of the earlier incident at the pool. As they departed, many of them approached Y/N with hugs and words of encouragement.

"You take care of yourself, okay?" Lia said, giving Y/N a tight hug.

Yuna added with a gentle smile, "We're here for you, always remember that."

As the crowd thinned out, Beomgyu found a quiet moment to talk to Y/N. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Y/N nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm staying here tonight, and my mom is picking me up in the morning."

Beomgyu, relieved yet still concerned, impulsively pressed his lips against her forehead in a tender gesture, surprising both himself and Y/N. He quickly stepped back, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Y/N's heart fluttered at the unexpected contact, her cheeks warming as she touched the spot where Beomgyu's lips had been.

As Beomgyu left the house, he was still processing his impulsive action, his face a bright shade of red. Outside, Yeonjun, Jeongin, and the others were waiting for him. They immediately noticed his flushed face.

"Whoa, Beomgyu, what's with the red face?" Jeongin teased, elbowing him playfully.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "Did something happen in there?"

Beomgyu, still embarrassed, tried to brush it off. "No, nothing... I just... said goodbye to Y/N."

"So, just a goodbye, huh?" Hueningkai chimed in, grinning.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Yeah, just a goodbye. Let's go home."

As Beomgyu and his friends walked away from Chaeryeong's house, the playful banter continued, with his friends teasing him about his obvious affection for Y/N.

"So, Beomgyu, since when did you become so tender-hearted?" Taehyun asked with a smirk.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, trying to deflect. "It's not like that. I was just making sure she was okay."

"Sure, sure," Jeongin chimed in, winking. "Just being a good friend, right?"

Yeonjun laughed, patting Beomgyu on the back. "It's okay, man. We all saw how you jumped in to save her. It's pretty heroic, and, well, kind of romantic too."

Hueningkai nodded in agreement. "Exactly! You looked like a knight in shining armor."

Beomgyu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by their teasing, let out a sigh. "Can we just drop it? I did what anyone would do in that situation."

Back at Chaeryeong's house, Y/N stood in the doorway for a moment longer, her heart still racing from Beomgyu's gentle kiss on her forehead. The gesture had been simple yet profound, leaving her with a feeling of warmth and care that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Chaeryeong, seizing the opportunity for a sleepover, excitedly dragged Y/N to her room. "You're staying over, right? We can have a proper girls' night," she suggested enthusiastically.

As they settled into Chaeryeong's room, sharing her bed, Chaeryeong noticed the lingering smile on Y/N's face. "So... Mr. Grumpy has a soft side, huh?" she teased gently.

Y/N blushed, nodding. "Yeah, I... I didn't expect that from him. But it was... nice."

Chaeryeong giggled. "I think it's sweet. He really cares about you, you know."

Y/N lay back, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the night's events. The fear, the support from her friends, and the unexpected tenderness from Beomgyu all swirled in her thoughts.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered, a smile playing on her lips. "Maybe he does."

The morning after the party, Y/N sat at the breakfast table with Chaeryeong and her family, still processing the events of the previous night. The atmosphere was light but tinged with the remnants of concern. When Y/N's mother arrived to pick her up, there was a palpable sense of relief.

Chaeryeong, Chae-Yeon, and their parents greeted Y/N's mother warmly, inviting her inside for a more detailed conversation about everything that had happened.

As soon as Y/N saw her mother, she rushed into her arms, the emotions of the past few days finally catching up to her. Her mother, visibly upset and worried, held her tightly. "I'm here now, it's going to be okay," she whispered, her own voice shaking.

Inside, Y/N's mother listened intently as Chaeryeong's parents recounted the events of the party and Y/N's troubling situation with Hwan. She nodded gravely, her expression a mix of concern and anger. "Thank you for taking care of her," she said, her voice laced with gratitude and worry.

Later that day, back at her own home, Y/N found solace in the quiet and familiarity of her surroundings. The calm, however, was interrupted when Hwan's mother paid a visit.

Upon entering, Hwan's mother was immediately apologetic, her face etched with guilt and regret. "I can't express how sorry I am," she began, her voice trembling. "I had no idea my son... I never imagined he could do such things."

Y/N's mother listened, her expression stern yet empathetic. "I appreciate you coming here, but I'm sure you understand my primary concern is for Y/N's well-being."

Hwan's mother nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. "Of course, I completely understand. I just wanted to apologize personally and let you know that I'll do whatever I can to help."

Y/N, who had been quietly listening from the doorway, felt a mix of emotions. She was relieved that Hwan wasn't with his mother, grateful for her understanding, but also deeply saddened by the turn her relationship had taken.

The visit ended with a promise from Hwan's mother to address the situation with her son and ensure that Y/N would no longer be troubled by him. Y/N's mother thanked her and gently ushered her out, her protective instincts fully engaged.

As the door closed, Y/N leaned against it, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. She knew the road to healing would be long, but with her mother's support and her friends standing by her, she felt a glimmer of hope for a future free from fear and pain.

Monday morning at school marked a new beginning for Y/N. As she walked through the gates, a wave of relief washed over her, seeing her friends gathered, ready to support her. Yeonjun, Hueningkai, Yuna, Lia, and Chaeryeong were all there, their faces showing a mix of concern and happiness to see her.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s so good to see you,” Yeonjun greeted her with a warm smile.

Hueningkai nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we've missed you around here.”

Y/N felt a rush of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

The group made a conscious effort not to dwell on the recent events. Instead, they focused on being there for Y/N, offering her the comfort and normalcy she needed.

Meanwhile, Hwan’s attempt to manipulate those around him by playing the good guy had fallen flat. Y/N’s friends and family saw through his facade and stood firmly by her side.

As they made their way through the school, the usual cacophony of Y/N and Beomgyu’s arguments was notably absent. The halls were quieter, but the silence was a welcome change.

Beomgyu, who had been keeping his distance, watched over Y/N discreetly, ensuring she was okay without intruding. His usual brash demeanor had softened, replaced by a quiet, protective presence.

Teachers, too, noticed the change. “It’s nice not to break up their fights for once,” one remarked to another.

Then, one day, as the Christmas break approached, Beomgyu decided to bridge the gap he had created. He walked over to Y/N’s locker with a gift bag in hand. Tapping her on the shoulder, he waited for her to turn around.

Y/N looked up, her face lighting up at the sight of him. “Beomgyu? What’s this?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Beomgyu shifted on his feet, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I... uh, got you something. For Christmas.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, not just from the gift, but from Beomgyu’s unexpected gesture of kindness. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Beomgyu shrugged, trying to maintain his composure. “I wanted to. Just... don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said, handing her the bag.

Y/N took the gift, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you, Beomgyu,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

Beomgyu nodded, his heart racing. “Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled before walking away, leaving Y/N standing there with the gift.

As Beomgyu walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and longing. He glanced back once, seeing Y/N opening the gift.

Inside the bag, Y/N found the Metallica album, still in its plastic wrapping, along with a few pieces of band merchandise. Her fingers traced the album cover, a smile spreading across her face.

“This means a lot, Beomgyu,” she whispered to herself, feeling a warmth in her heart.

During the Christmas holiday, Y/N and her friends found warmth and camaraderie in each other's homes, gathering for video games and junk food, sheltered from the winter chill outside. However, Beomgyu’s absence at these hangouts was palpable, leaving a void in their usual dynamic.

Yeonjun, seeing Y/N’s concern, reassured her. “Don’t worry about Beomgyu. I’ve seen him a few times. He's just sorting through some things.”

As they were deep in their gaming session at Y/N's place, the doorbell's chime interrupted their laughter. Y/N paused the game and walked to the door, her friends' curious eyes following her.

Opening the door, Y/N was surprised to see Hwan standing there, his arms laden with flowers and chocolates. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you. I’m sorry about everything,” Hwan implored, his voice laden with remorse.

Y/N, taken aback, was at a loss for words. She didn’t trust his sudden change of heart.

Just then, Y/N’s mother appeared, her expression a fusion of anger and protectiveness. Lia, sensing the situation, hurried to Y/N’s side and gently pulled her back.

“Hwan, you need to leave. Now,” Y/N’s mother stated firmly, her protective instincts in full force.

“But I just want to apologize to Y/N,” Hwan tried to explain, his voice tinged with desperation.

“There’s nothing you can say to fix what you’ve done. If you don’t leave, I will call the police,” Y/N’s mother threatened, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Hwan, realizing he had no choice, reluctantly stepped back and left, his head hung low.

Closing the door, Y/N turned to find her friends gathered around her, faces filled with concern.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Lia asked, her voice soft yet worried.

Y/N nodded, trying to mask her unease. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect him to turn up like that.”

Yeonjun put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re all here for you, no matter what.”

The group tried to return to their earlier jovial mood, but the shadow of Hwan’s unexpected visit lingered. As the evening wore on, Y/N’s thoughts drifted to Beomgyu. She wondered how he would have reacted had he been there and found herself missing his presence more than she had anticipated.

Y/N's mother, noticing her daughter's distant look, sat beside her. “You know, it’s okay to feel upset about this. But remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all with you.”

As the days leading up to Christmas dwindled, Y/N received an unexpected message from Beomgyu asking to meet up. After his noticeable absence during most of the Christmas break, this invitation was both exciting and nerve-wracking for her.

Arriving at the café Beomgyu had specified, Y/N was surprised to find it was just him waiting for her. She had expected a group hangout, but the prospect of spending time alone with Beomgyu stirred a mix of anticipation and anxiety within her.

Beomgyu, who spotted Y/N as she walked in, greeted her with a warm, genuine smile – a far cry from the sarcastic smirks she had grown accustomed to during their arguments at school. “Hey, Y/N, over here,” he called out, waving her over.

Y/N approached, her heart beating a little faster. “Hey, Beomgyu. I wasn’t expecting it to be just us,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be nice to catch up, just the two of us,” Beomgyu replied, his voice calm yet sincere.

They ordered their coffees and found a quiet corner table. The initial silence between them was filled with unspoken words and shared memories. Finally, Beomgyu broke the ice.

“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about how things have been between us,” he started, his eyes meeting hers. “From that first day we bumped into each other, it’s been… quite a journey, hasn’t it?”

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I never would have imagined we’d end up here, having coffee together, after all that arguing.”

Beomgyu chuckled softly. “I know, right? I guess we’ve both changed a lot since then. I’ve been doing some thinking… about how I acted, and I wanted to apologize for being so difficult at times.”

Y/N was taken aback by his candidness. “I… wasn’t expecting an apology. I mean, I wasn’t exactly easy to get along with either.”

Beomgyu shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “Maybe, but I think I owe you one. I realized I might have been a bit too harsh at times.”

As Y/N and Beomgyu sat in the café, illuminated by the soft Christmas lights, their conversation continued to unfold with an ease that surprised them both.

“Remember that time we got paired for that science project?” Y/N chuckled, recalling one of their less antagonistic school moments. “We were both so convinced our method was better.”

Beomgyu laughed. “Yeah, and in the end, we had to combine our ideas. Turned out pretty well, though.”

The reminiscing led to discussions about their future aspirations. “I’m actually thinking of majoring in graphic design,” Y/N shared, her eyes lighting up.

“That’s cool,” Beomgyu nodded. “I’ve always known you were creative. As for me, I’m leaning towards music production. It’s been a passion for a while.”

The conversation then shifted to the topic of the Metallica album he had given her. Y/N, curious, asked him about it. “So, why did you decide to give me the album? You won it fair and square that day at the record store.”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, then admitted, “Well, I realized I never really wanted the album. I just... I guess I wanted to win that day. But after everything, I thought you’d appreciate it more. It was your favorite band, after all.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It meant a lot to me. Thank you, Beomgyu. It was a really thoughtful gift.”

As they continued to talk, the initial awkwardness they had felt was completely gone, replaced by a newfound appreciation for each other. They found humor in their past misunderstandings and recognized the growth they both had undergone.

Eventually, the conversation waned, and it was time to part ways. As they stood up to leave, Y/N felt a sense of reluctance. “This was nice, Beomgyu. We should hang out like this more often,” she suggested, hoping he felt the same.

Beomgyu nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d like that. It’s been... surprisingly nice.”

They walked out of the café together, the crisp winter air greeting them. As they said their goodbyes, there was a moment of comfortable silence.

“See you after the holidays, Y/N,” Beomgyu said, a genuine smile on his face.

“See you, Beomgyu. Have a great Christmas,” Y/N replied, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment.

Y/N's walk home was filled with reflections on the evening she'd spent with Beomgyu. It was a refreshing change from their usual interactions, one that left her feeling hopeful and content.

After the Christmas break, school resumed with its usual buzz and energy. The corridors were alive with students sharing their holiday experiences.

One morning, Lia, Yuna, Yeji, Chaeryeong, and Y/N gathered with the boys, excitedly discussing their Christmas gifts and New Year’s celebrations.

“I got this amazing art set from my parents,” Lia shared enthusiastically. “Spent almost all of New Year’s Eve drawing.”

Yuna chimed in with a laugh, “And I attempted to bake a cake for Christmas. Let’s just say it didn’t turn out as planned.”

Their laughter and chatter filled the air until they noticed Beomgyu approaching. He seemed different – his usual wolf cut was now a bit shorter, and his hair was a uniform light brown, framing his face in a way that accentuated his features.

“Whoa, Beomgyu, looking sharp!” Yeonjun exclaimed as he approached, a wide grin on his face. “New year, new look, huh?”

Beomgyu shrugged, a slight smile on his face. “Yeah, thought it was time for a change.”

Y/N couldn’t help but admire the change. “It looks really good on you, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu met her eyes, his smile widening a bit. “Thanks, Y/N.”

The group continued their walk to class, now with Beomgyu in tow. The conversation shifted to plans for the upcoming year, with everyone sharing their goals and aspirations.

As they walked and talked, Y/N noticed a new dynamic in the group. Beomgyu seemed more engaged, often adding his thoughts and even joking around, which was a pleasant change from his usual aloof demeanor.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and they all headed to their respective rooms. Y/N felt a sense of warmth in her heart. The new term was off to a good start, and she couldn’t help but feel optimistic about what lay ahead.

Throughout the day, Y/N found herself thinking about Beomgyu and the changes he had undergone. It wasn’t just his appearance; his attitude seemed different too, more open and approachable.

Later, as they gathered for lunch, the group found themselves discussing a class project due in the coming weeks. Beomgyu, surprisingly, suggested they work on it together after school.

“Sounds like a plan,” Y/N agreed, looking forward to spending more time with the group, and secretly, with Beomgyu.

As the day drew to a close at school, Y/N felt an undeniable sense of excitement and a sense of belonging within her group of friends. Beomgyu's changes, both in his appearance and demeanor, had infused a new energy into their dynamics, and she found herself increasingly curious about the new version of him.

Weeks after their newfound friendship, Beomgyu stood nervously at his locker, clutching a small bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates. Today was the day he had decided to reveal his true feelings to Y/N. The thought alone set his heart racing.

Yeonjun, standing beside Jeongin and Soobin, couldn't help but tease him, “If you guys spent two years arguing, it's pretty obvious you're into each other.”

Beomgyu shot him a glare but couldn't hide the anxious anticipation in his eyes.

“Go on, Beomgyu. It’s now or never,” Soobin encouraged him with a supportive pat on the back.

With a deep breath, Beomgyu steeled his nerves and approached Y/N, who was standing a few steps away, engaged in conversation with Yuna and Lia.

“Hey, Y/N,” Beomgyu called out, his voice surprisingly steady despite his racing heart.

Y/N turned, her expression lighting up with surprise and curiosity. “Beomgyu? What’s all this about?” she inquired, noticing the flowers and chocolates.

Gathering his courage, Beomgyu looked into her eyes. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. I like you, a lot more than I ever admitted. I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

Y/N's eyes widened, a mixture of astonishment and delight dancing in them. “Really? Mr. Grumpy, I never saw this coming,” she teased, her smile broadening.

“Yeah, well, Mrs. Clumsy, I guess it was about time I confessed,” Beomgyu replied, his voice tinged with a playful warmth.

The two shared a laugh, their old antagonistic nicknames now taking on a fond, affectionate tone.

Y/N took a step closer, her heart fluttering with excitement. “I like you too, Beomgyu. I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

In that moment, they both leaned in for a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was a kiss that encapsulated years of hidden feelings, a shared history of arguments and laughter.

Their friends watched from afar, cheering and clapping in support. Yuna and Lia shared a look of excitement, thrilled for their friend.

After the kiss, Beomgyu handed Y/N the flowers and chocolates. “For you, Mrs. Clumsy,” he said with a smile.

Y/N accepted them with a giggle. “Thank you, Mr. Grumpy. They’re beautiful.”

As they walked away together, hand in hand, a new chapter in their lives began. Their journey from rivals to friends had now blossomed into something more – a relationship built on understanding, laughter, and a deep connection.

The school hallways, once filled with their arguments, now echoed with their shared laughter and whispers of future plans. Beomgyu and Y/N, once known for their endless bickering, had found in each other a partner, a confidante, and a love that had grown from their unique bond.

Their story, which began with a collision on the first day of high school, had come full circle in the most unexpected and beautiful way. As they looked ahead, they knew whatever the future held, they would face it together, as a team, ready to navigate the joys and challenges of life side by side.

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #fanfic #fanfiction #txt beomgyu #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #txt x fem reader #txt scenarios

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fangirldreams101 · 6 months

Text

Coming Home pt. 6

DBF! Daryl, Rick, Shane & Negan x Reader

TW: Severe age-gap w/ older men, smut, consensual sex, handjobs/fingering, groping, some aggression, alcohol usage, unprotected piv sex (wrapping before tapping), Reader FINALLY gets laid

Chapter Index

It has been months since you have last talked to Rick and Daryl properly. Not for lack of trying on their part, they had tried to talk to you but you were not there to play games. They made their choice, they were not going to be allowed to backtrack on it. Besides! Shane kept you plenty of company. He swung by the house more often nowadays, flirting and flashing his charming smile. It was nice getting to know him, even though he frequently did not get the chance to stick around for very long, Daryl or Rick miraculously making an appearance and dragging him off. They thought they were being subtle, but you heard glimpses of their not-so-quiet whispers; saying things along the lines of, "Shane wasn't allowed to flirt with you," and to "remember the pact,"- whatever the hell that means. It didn't seem to really deter him though, Shane being quite bold in the placement of his hands or how close his body would be against yours. Alas, it was only teasing and nothing more, and you were not planning on spending your college years getting wet over fleeting touches. You enjoyed Shane's flirtatious company but you wanted more than that. And you were going to get it.

The month of your birthday was rolling around, and since it would be your 21st, your dad was planning on going all out. He booked one of the town's bars for the night, and was inviting almost everyone who ever made contact with you in your life. You tried to tell him you would be happy with something small but nothing was stopping your kind father from giving you an all out birthday bash. Your mom was even flying in with some of your old gang: friends from high school, neighbors, etc. You felt a little embarrassed with how much they doted on you but you were also very touched.

The day of the party came around and you were at the bar now, dolled up and greeting everyone arriving. It was a heartwarming feeling seeing everyone come in to support and celebrate you. You stood by the door and greeted the new friends and neighbors that you've made. Rick was one of the first to arrive. It was strange not seeing him in his work uniform, he chose to instead wearing a casual button-up with jeans. The first few buttons were undone, and for whatever reason, you didn't think you had ever seen a more attractive collarbone in your life. He sauntered up to you and his eyes trailed your body.

"I havn' seen ya around much darlin'," he said, a tentative smile on his face.

"I wonder whose fault that is," you joked half-heartedly.

His smile dropped from his face, “There is nothin more that I want than to-"

"Thanks for coming," you cut him off with a smile, "I have to greet the other guests but please help yourself to whatever you'd like."

You went to move away but suddenly arms wrapped around you and a familiar voice whispered into your ear.

"Does that mean I can have ya," Shane's voice was heavy with barely hidden lust.

"Everythin' alrigh' over here," Daryl's heavy drawl broke into the conversation.

Great. All three of the hot men in your life who have expressed some kind of desire over you and then rejecting you in some way or another all in one room. Thanks dad.

Shane released his grasp on you and grinned like a wolf, "Everythin' is more than fine. Peachy, even."

With the word 'peachy' he gives a small smack to your ass, eliciting a yelp out of you and a threatening step towards the two of you by Rick and Daryl.

"Get yer hands off o' her," Daryl growls.

"Shane we talked about this," Rick sighs at the same time.

Shane's tone turns to frustration, "No. No we didn'. You two talked about it n' then decided to tell me what to do. I'm sick of it."

While they squabbled amongst themselves like hens in a coop, you took this chance to slip away. You did not want whatever weird relationship you had with them to ruin the hard work your community went through to make this a special night for you.

Suddenly, the door to the bar burst open and your mom charged in arms wide, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Behind her, your friends and neighbors from Washington came in, smiling and giving their well wishes. You charged at them, giving them hugs and teary smiles. Finally, the party could kick off now that everyone was here.

As the night went on, drinks, stories and laughter were passed around. You couldn't believe how great of a time this was. You avoided the troublesome trio as much as possible, intent on having a good time. Later in the night, as everyone was just milling about, the bell hanging over the door rang out as another guest came in. You turned to greet the late comer but stopped when you realized you had no idea who the hell he was.

Your eyes slowly raked over his body, admiring his dark hair and facial features along with the dark leather jacket that clung to his arms.

"Hi, sir! Is there something I can help you with," you politely asked, walking towards him.

As you did, he let out a low appreciative whistle at your form, not hiding how he admired your shape, "Well helloooo, doll, aren't you a sight?"

You felt yourself bristle at his forwardness but also couldn't help the heat you felt rise to your cheeks.

"Mmm if I had a pretty little thing like you, I'd never let you leave the bed," he laughed.

For the first time in a hot minute, you were left speechless. Sure, Shane was pretty forward, but nothing like this. This man was clearly eye fucking you and you were sure that if he could get away with it, he'd be actually fucking you right here on the floor.

"I'm sorry, but this is a private event. Who are you," you asked, after taking a moment to recover from the shock.

"Hey! Negan! My man!" Your dad came barreling into the conversation as always, clearly having one too many to drink.

"Hey man, how are you," Negan smiled back, the both of them doing the typical man hug and slapping each other on the back.

Your dad did the introductions, "This is Negan, he was my best friend in college but the bastard stayed in Washington. Turns out he was comin' by to explore the town cause he got a job offer, so I invited him here to catch up. I hope that's ok?"

You nodded sheepishly, "Sorry for attacking your entry like that, just didn't recognize you."

"No worries, doll, I get it," Negan winked at you and then turned back to your dad, "Now where's the little birthday girl you always yap about?"

Your dad chortled and gestured to you, "This is the birthday girl!"

Negan's eyes visibly bulged out of his head. "The fuck are you talking about? The way you talk about her I thought she was 5 or something. This is... this is a woman."

"Well she'll always be my little girl," your dad sheepishly said, "Hey wait a minute... I sent you her age when I sent the details about the party! Did you not read it?"

"Fuck no man, you sent like 10 paragraphs, I am not reading that shit," he glanced at you, "Uh, no offense."

You laughed, you really liked hearing the banter between the two of them. Negan felt like a very sexy breath of fresh air. He was blunt and forward, you really liked that after dealing with the troublesome trio's vagueness and their hot and cold attitudes towards you. You liked Negan. Your eyes took him in once more. Oh yeah. You liked him a lot.

Your dad and Negan continued to converse but his attention was really more on you than anything else. He kept his gaze on you for most of the conversation until someone else caught your father's attention and dragged him off. Negan took the opportunity handed to him and sauntered back towards you.

"Hello, doll," he said.

"Hey," you returned, holding out a hand, "Sorry I never got the chance to introduce myself properly. I'm (Y/N)."

He shook your hand, "Seems like you read my mind, sweetheart. I was about to say the same to you. The name's Negan. Had I known what a beauty you are, I would've flown down to meet the old bastard ages ago."

You felt yourself giggle at that comment and that was the green light for him. You spent the rest of the evening in a little tucked away corner of the bar with him, learning more about each other. He became more and more bold with your body as you both became increasingly tipsy. As the party continued, you eventually decided that the clear chemistry between the both of you was enough to see if you can get to know Negan a bit more... intimately. He was just too damn charming and too damn hot for you to pass up the chance. And if he rejected you... well add the name to the list.

You leaned in close at his next joke, laughing lightly as you put your hand on his thigh. His smile slowly left his face and the beer he was bringing up to his mouth was brought down. He looked down at your hand and you could visibly see his gaze darken. Worried you did something wrong, you began to pull away when his hand shot out and latched onto your wrist. Keeping a firm but gentle grasp on your hand, he looked into your eyes and slowly dragged your hand up to his crotch.

"Is this what you were aiming for, sweetheart," he breathed out and you shuddered, feeling that he was actually hard this whole time, the leather jacket and jeans covering and restricting his hard-on from view.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, "Depends on if that's what I get."

"You can get it alright, baby, just not here. Don't want your old man cutting off my dick before I get the chance to be in you," he tugged on your arm, lifting you from the barstools you were residing on, "Come on sweetheart."

You guys both maneuvered your way through the crowd, not noticing Daryl's inquisitive gaze following you. You guys originally headed to the bathroom, but they were full so you both stepped outside into the alleyway behind the bar. The chilly night air could not do a damn thing to quell the heat that was growing in your stomach and you grabbed the back of Negan's neck with your free hand, pulling him into a heated kiss. He groaned into your mouth, releasing your wrist just to wrap his arms around your body. One of his hands tangled itself into your hair, yanking your head back, breaking the kiss and allowing his mouth to hungrily devour your neck and exposed collarbone.

"Fuck," you sighed out, holding him as close as humanely possible.

"Mmmm you pretty doll, all nice and all for me," Negan mumbled into your neck, seemingly talking to himself more than you as he pulls you in for another kiss.

Being in a dry spell since you got here, Negan's actions had you soaked in seconds. You pulled at the buttons on his jeans, reaching in and feeling him. He grunted at the sensation as you let out a small gasp in his mouth, happy with the weight of him in your hands. As his own hands explored you, groping your breasts and ass, you began to stroke him. He let out a groan at the contact, before moving his hands to your thighs and lifting you up.

Not breaking the kiss, he maneuvered the both of you so your back was up against the brick wall of the bar, and he was between your legs. He ground himself against your center, your thin panties letting you feel the heat of his cock rub against you.

He placed desperate kisses against your chest, "Pretty doll like you deserves to be taken in a fancy bed and made to cum until you cry, I'm sorry I can't give that to you right now, sweetheart. We gotta be quick."

You groaned, "It's doesn't matter to me. Just wan to feel ya."

"You dirty lil doll," he chuckled, "Alright baby, I'll give you want you want."

The hand not holding you up trailed in between your bodies, reaching into your clothes and feeling your wetness.

Negan sucked in air at the feeling, "Damn doll, you are soaked."

You felt your face flush at that, telling him to shut up and put it in already.

He let out a laugh and traced his fingers around your opening. You bucked your hips, trying to relay the message and he finally sunk his fingers into, pumping them in and out as a steady pace.

His thumb pressed into your clit, causing you to cry out as he tutted, "Now now, baby. Don't want the rest of the party hearing us. Keep it in sweetheart or you won't be able to get what you want."

You whined at his words, the way his fingers curled into you prevented you from forming proper words. He continued to pump and twist his fingers into you, and you could quickly feel the pressure building. Judging by how you tightened around his fingers, Negan could tell you were getting close too.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart. Want you to cum with me," he teased, slipping his fingers out of you and putting them into his mouth as you whined at the loss of contact.

Negan groaned at your taste, savoring your sweetness and moved aside your panties as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans.

"Ready sweetheart," he asked, moving his tip back and forth across your folds.

"Condom," you panted out.

"Ah shit," he groaned, "Didn't think I was going to get myself some sweet ass tonight, I don't have one."

“It's fine," you mumbled, bucking your hips again, "want you in me."

"You sure, baby? I'm here for a bit, we can do it another time-"

Before he could say anything else, with a firmer thrust of your hips, you were able to slip the tip of his cock inside of you.

"Fuck," he exclaimed at the feeling of your gummy walls trying to suck him in.

"I'm sure," you said firmly, "Now fuck me."

Negan gave you the largest smile you've seen out of him, "Fuck me doll, I love myself a woman who knows what she wants."

With that, he sunk himself into you fully as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Negan let out a groan, loving the way you felt around him and began to pump in and out of you like he was never going to see you again. You both began to kiss each other hungrily, teeth and tongues clashing as he continued to move. You tried to move your hips as much as possible but you were quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place, so it was a bit difficult to do so. Negan didn't mind at all, as he began to incorporate grinding into his motions, successfully stimulating your clit in all the right places.

Once again, you quickly began to feel yourself being wound up, this extremely messy but passionate sex was getting you close to finishing faster than you thought possible. The clumsy way you both tore at each other showed your inexperience with each other's bodies but the clear desire you had for one another. Negan broke the kiss, planting himself in the crook of your neck and began peppering you with small hickies. His hips began to falter and you could tell he was also getting close.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he panted, "Out or in baby?"

"Wha-," you moaned, delirious from the pleasure.

"My cum, sweetheart, out or in?"

In response you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in closer to you, "Fuck, in me please. Please, in me."

"Goddamnit why are you so fucking hot," he growled, fumbling around to press into your clit once more.

With his words and motions, your dam broke and your came with a silent cry. Negan grit his teeth at the way your pussy spasmed around him and pumped a few more times before pressing his hips deep against you, until you were sure you were going to be bruised tomorrow. He bit into your shoulder as he came, filling you up with him cum and officially ruining your panties as it began to dribble out. You could feel him twitch inside of you, sharp bursts of cum hitting your walls as you both tried to catch your breath.

Once he was sure he had nothing left to give, he gave a few more thrusts into you before pulling out slowly. You hissed at the sensation, soreness already kicking in from the position you were in. He pulled your panties over your pussy, gently patting it and making your jump from overstimulation. He chuckled as you gave him a half-hearted glare before gently setting you down. Immediately, you almost fell over, collapsing into his chest.

"Woah sweetheart, don't go falling for me now," he chuckled, supporting you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You gave him a dopey grin, so freaking pleased that you finally got laid by a hot man. Suddenly the door to the bar blew open and Daryl stormed out, frantic.

You and Negan quickly separated from each other, trying to fix your hair and clothing.

"Jesus, (Y/N) we almos' had a damn heart attack wonderin' where you were at-," Daryl stopped in his tracks noticing the disheveled state of the both of you, "The hell?"

Negan stepped forward, "We were just, uh, about to head back in-"

Daryl charged forward, punching Negan across the face, ”WHA' THE FUCK DID YA DO TA HER?"

You run forward, shoving Daryl away, "Jesus fuck, Daryl! Get off of him!"

"DID HE TOUCH YOU," Daryl yelled grabbing you by your shoulders right as the dimly lit alley lights lit you up perfectly, highlighting your exposed collarbone, and evidently, your hickies and messed up makeup.

"Hey man, get your hands off of her," Negan shoved Daryl away, cradling his punched jaw.

Daryl stumbled back, looking in shock between you and Negan, watching the way you ran to Negan's side to check on him.

"Oh my god Negan, are you alright," you cried out, gently holding his face.

"How can I not be fine when I have an angel like you worried about me," he joked, but upon seeing your clear concern, cleared his throat, "'M fine sweetheart. Jus' took me by surprise, is all."

"Did you two- did you two-," Daryl stuttered in shock.

"Did we fuck? Is that what you're asking right now," you questioned angrily, "Not that its any of your goddamn business but yes! Now leave us alone, Daryl!"

Daryl let out a staggered breath, running his hands through his hair, ", "Darlin... ya shouldn' have-"

"You do not get to tell me who I can and cannot fuck, Daryl! I'm a FUCKING adult no matter how many times you want to imagine otherwise! And you are not going to say one goddamn word about this to my dad otherwise you will never see me again and I will bust up your bike, do you hear me?"

Negan chuckled, "Doll, you're going to have me at your feet, I swear."

Daryl whipped his head around to glare at Negan before sighing and nodding, "You... yer righ''. 'M sorry. I shouldn' have done tha'. I'll, uh, I'll see ya inside. Happy birthday, (Y/N)."

With that, he walked inside like a kicked puppy while Negan wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Well besides the lil interruption, I'd say this was a lot of fun, sweetheart. I hope we can do this again sometime."

You stared at the door Daryl just walked through for a second before nodding, "Yeah, sure thing."

Taglist:

@eternalrose81 @belaballs @lonely-girl2423 @thewitchesofart @theoraekenslover @raininhell

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dragon-chica · 11 months

Text

Creep Alert - Teen Wolf Preference

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Because someone has made me very uncomfortable at weekly pinball and I would like to take Theo.

Stiles: Okay he's not always the most observant person around, he will be talking to himself trying to figure something out or keep walking not realizing someone else has come up and gone all up in your space. When he turns about and you are visibly uncomfortable he RUNS back, trip/sliding between you and the guy pushing his hand off. Might have yelled "CREEP ALERT" on his way over, mile a minute talking asking if you're okay, did they do anything? name drops that he is the son of the sheriff and can get that guy written up for harassment. "Do you want to file a report on him? I'll call dad right now. Don't you go anywhere, we're not done here- PARRISH!" Spots a squad car and shouts over (it was not Parrish) and it becomes mess. But it certainly did the job.

Scott: Good of heart, dumb of ass. Despite his wolf instinct telling him to destroy the threat, he comes over the moment your scent turns distressed. He comes up right next to you with a comforting hand on your arm and inserts himself into the conversation. Genuinely not realizing this guy's intentions or what's going on besides you're uncomfortable and asks what's going on. Usually he's enough to diffuse the situation, but if someone's persistent he'll instead have you both leave.

Lydia: Has been in this kind of scenario too many times that she sees it coming across the room before anyone talks to you. She's learned exactly how to handle herself, either sweetly or with words that cut. Or if she had a 'big, strong, man' to handle it for her. Lydia's at your side immediately, telling them you're not interested and how far she'll shove her heel up their ass.

Liam: Sure, mess with the S/O of the werewolf kid with IED, that's a good idea. He doesn't usually stray far from your side but a few steps away was enough for someone to take his spot and feel a little too comfortable getting in your space and questioning you. His gaze shoots to you as discomfort sours your scent. He speeds over, eyes flashing gold and getting right in their face with you behind him. Not afraid to get physical if they want to keep it up.

Also if it's Brett coming to flirt with you, either because he's a slut or just to try and piss Liam off and you really are uncomfortable with his advances, all bets are off. Claws are out and he wants blood, it's a whole scene.

Isaac: At first it's a little harder for Isaac to come to your rescue, even though he's a werewolf now he's not used to the kind of confidence of doing something like this. You were always the one to try and protect him, and never faulted him when he didn't come to your defense, just trying to make sure you were okay after.

But now he's a werewolf, he can do better. He stronger. Intimidating. Despite everything, he still had to psych himself up walking over to you, who is obviously uncomfortable. He's not sure how to insert himself, but he is quite noticeable and doesn't have to do much. Being so much taller (and chest puffed) than your pest, they take the smart move to leave. Visibly deflate and swallows after that interaction and asks if you're okay. Gets bashful when you call him your knight.

Malia: No filter and very brash. People have thought of messing with her but the energy she gives off and feral look in her eye is almost always enough to deter them first. You though, are not so lucky. Already very standoffish, once she sense someone is making you uncomfortable she is staring them down and growling, barely keeping her claws in even as they leave.

Derek: He normally is overprotective of you, usually you just roll your eyes at his worries. But you certainly feel safe with a scowling sourwolf beside you. Until he's gone a few minutes too long and someone thinks that's their chance.

When he sees someone crowding in on you he's speeding right through the crowd and shoving them backwards hard enough to make them stumble and once they're thoroughly scared shitless by his hardened stare to flee, he's trying to get you to leave grumbling how "we never should have come here anyway."

#Teen Wolf x reader #Teen Wolf imagine #Stiles Stilinski x reader #Lydia Martin x reader #Isaac Lahey x reader #Liam Dunbar x reader #Derek Hale x reader #Malia Tate x reader #Scott McCall x reader #my stuff

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agent-cupcake · 9 months

Text

grimm

Pairing: Death (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish) x f!catgirl Reader

Synopsis: The series of unfortunate events and clichés that lead you to meeting a familiar nightmare in the middle of the woods beneath a full moon. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Warnings: 18+, explicit smut w/ a nonhuman character (not a nonhuman cock though), noncon, death, violence

Tags: alternate universe, angst, size kink, object insertion, masochistic reader, praise (voice) kink, outdoor sex

Words: 18.5k

Notes: It's been a while, huh? Yes, today we are going to fuck the furry from a kids movie, I'm not sure if y'all are even surprised but. Anyway. On the one hand I'd say I feel shame but on the other they shouldn't have made him talk so sexy, which is not my fault. All the Spanish is from DeepL and context.reverso. Hopefully any mistakes aren't too bad and you don't find it too cringe, or you can manage to look past it for my sake.

Once upon a time there lived in an unassuming little corner of the world a man. A husband to a beautiful wife and a father of two lovely children. He was strange, perhaps, for the ears atop his head, and the vertical irises through which he looked, and the spry springiness of his limbs. Stranger too for his chosen lifestyle, a traveling merchant whose blood couldn’t get any lower. Ravi, sons and daughters of Bastet, relics of a bygone era. For all that he was strange, however, he was steadfast. Bolstered rather than weakened by the critical eye of other men, the unyielding cut of his silhouette and unshakable confidence made the man a lord in his own right. He had been here, and there, traveling wherever the wind called him, and always with certainty. If his chosen path was obstructed by a swath of trees, he would see the forest leveled before he so much as considered choosing a different route. A further measure of his determination, however, would prove that if he were told that those same obstructing trees were sacred, he would scorch the earth so thoroughly that not even ash dared remain beneath his boots when he trampled on the hallowed ground.

One day, the man looked down to admire how far he had come throughout the years, to smile upon the many grand achievements he had stacked up along the way. But then, looking a little closer, he couldn’t help but notice how long his shadow had become. While he had been distracted, the sun made its arc above him, and now it was falling towards the horizon, casting him in ever dimming light. Taking with it, he thought, Ra’s blessing. He began to tally up all of the things he had been ignoring. A stiff back, sore joints, fatigue after a day of travel, a headache after a night of frivolity. He noticed that while his son had grown tall and strong, he had been shrinking. The lovely apple cheeks of his beloved wife had begun to dull, wrinkles forming around her eyes. This realization filled the man with a feeling he had never experienced before—uncertainty. And then, fear.

Unable to face the dark, he vowed that he would not allow it, he would do whatever it took to escape such a terrible fate. Unbeknownst to him, this audacious belief invited the attention of a creature with a unique penchant for mischief and an appetite for fear. A wolf. He told the man that he could run, he could fight, he could rage, he could try to pull the sun back with all his might, but in his desperate frenzy to escape the night, he would only incur a great debt. An immeasurable bounty. One, perhaps, that would condemn not only him, but his family and the legacy he had created. A terrible fate.

“I do not fear you,” the man said.

The wolf laughed.

It was to be a chase, then. A hunt. The man ran, searching for something, anything, that would save him, traveling here and there with purpose, scouring the shadows, tracking down myth and rumor with a passion bordering mania. There had to be, he reasoned, a way to remain in Ra’s boundless glory. Circling ever nearer, the wolf harried his prey to the last.

Until, on the lush outskirts of a certain small village, a small ravi family set up their wagon for the night. The woods swarmed with the sound of bugs, the early summer heat simmering back down into the cold dampness of spring nights. Haunting and dreamlike, echoing in the dark, signaling finality, a song. And then, a figure in the dark. A familiar face, a frightening foe.

There, in the night, beneath the full moon, the hunt ended. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, his obsession had taken him so completely that the only remaining recourse was a final fit of fury against the dying light. Perhaps, in those last moments, the man realized what a fool he had been. Too late. The wolf had grown bored of the game.

Horror of horrors, serendipity struck. A child who should have been tucked up tight in her bed, sheltered and safe from what lurked in the dark, grew bored of counting sheep. She hadn’t yet learned to fear the night, thinking her father to be playing a delightful trick. Creeping, quiet, curious, and ignorant to the cruelty of the dangerous unseen, she breached the forest’s uncanny shadows. Deeper, deeper, until she discovered the truth. Her father’s corpse hit the ground, his empty eyes never seeing her terror, his deaf ears never hearing her scream.

The gray wolf bid her to run, and she did. It was inevitable that they should meet again.

one chance.

Before that night, you never gave much thought to death, or luck, or malevolent forces, or tragedy. It was only when you were huffing, puffing, screaming for help, crying wolf, that true fear crept into your life. Once the door opened, it could not be closed. Although the monster was long gone, its shadow remained.

And they said: you were lucky to have escaped. They said: ravi law, loose as it was, could not be counted on for satisfactory justice. They said: the murder could not have been committed by any of the simple townsfolk. They said: it would be a blight upon the poor ordinary people for the case to drag on and on. And so the crime was tried thus—your brother, suffering a fit of drunken rage, donned a mummer’s wolf mask and murdered your father.

Not even a day passed before the so-called trial was held. The only building that could accommodate the gawkers and jury was the local barroom, a place that stank of old wood and fermentation. You didn't know the man acting as judge, you did not recognize any of the faces around you, only that they were indifferent, cold, and your brother's life rested in their callous hands. He sat near the front as the case was laid out for the gawkers, his face drawn and shadowed. Clapped in irons, his mouth covered to protect his jailors from his sharp ravi canines, ears as low as you’d ever seen them, looking not so much a man on trial than livestock on auction.

"You’re the daughter, are you not?” the judge called. It took you a moment to realize he meant you, his dull eyes signaling you out.

Someone spat at your feet.

“Filthy half breed."

"They’re incestuous, the father must have found them in the act."

“They’re both guilty.”

“Go ahead. Run. No one escapes me.”

The low whisper, practically a growl, made your ears twitch, your heartbeat racing as you scanned the faceless crowd with dry eyes, blinking fast to try and find the source of that terrible voice. But the faces were all human, drawn with cruelty and disgust, but human.

The judge banged on the table, catching your attention. “Young lady! You witnessed the crime, yes?”

You shook your head in rejection of the phantom voice and cleared your throat, breaking free of your mother’s grasp to stumble towards the judge. "Yessir," you said. "Yessir, I am… I-I did."

“Go on, then. We’ll hear your testimony.”

It was difficult to breathe, the air was stuffy and hot, your skin too tight. You could feel the people watching you, the weight of their eyes.

"You've got it all wrong, sir,” you said. “It-it wasn't him. He couldn't-"

"The facts only, if you please," the judge said, cutting you off. "Did you or did you not see the man who attacked you?”

Hot, heavy tears formed in your eyes, primed to travel the same salty tracks down your cheeks left by those before. Fear, pain, sadness, exhaustion, all of it compounded and ached within you. You didn’t want to remember. You didn’t want to think. But you had to.

"It was no man, sir," you said, your voice choked.

“Do you mean to tell me a woman killed your father?”

“No sir, it was an… an evil spirit.” Behind you, people muttered and whispered with disbelief. Shock. Doubt. Anger. The judge's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “He had the head of a jackal, or a-a a wolf. ”

“A mask.”

“No, sir. It was not a man.” You heard your mother’s scolding voice from behind you, and your brother raised his head to look at you with shock, but you ignored it all.

"I should hope I don’t need to remind you of the severity of these proceedings,” the judge said, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"I know what I saw,” you replied, your hands balled into tight fists at your side.

"Your testimony is that an evil spirit with the head of a wolf murdered your father and attacked you?" The judge clarified, not so much as pretending to believe you. The question pulled a bit of laughter from the crowd. Your mother grabbed at your arm to pull you back, but you refused to let her. Instead, you set your stance and jaw.

"Yessir."

More laughter, as if there was anything humorous about this situation.

“I know,” the judge said loudly, silencing the crowd with a wave of his hand. “I know that you’ve been through a terrible thing, and I am sorry about that. That’s no excuse, however, and I mean this, it is no excuse for you to lie. You might think you’re defending your brother, but anything less than the absolute truth only strengthens the case against him. And, if I’m to be completely honest, I find this behavior deeply troubling. Perhaps it is acceptable among your kind to believe in stories of evil spirits and the like, but it is not appropriate here. We’re a good, God fearing people.”

“This isn’t a story. I saw it,” you insisted, your throat swollen and the world blurring up with tears. “The beast might still be in the woods, if you just look-”

“Look for the big bad wolf?” the judge asked, a bushy gray eyebrow rising high, inviting further discontent and disbelieving laughter from the people behind you. He sighed, once again calling for order and shaking his head. “It pains me greatly, you must understand, I want to be fair considering your circumstances, but this really is unacceptable. If you won’t testify against him, your father’s killer-”

“I told you,” you insisted, a little louder.

“No, young lady. And I repeat—no. What you have done is insult me and the fine people of this town with your absurd heathen fiction,” he told you.

“That’s not-”

“Your kind think you are above civilized law, but understand that we are giving your father the justice he, as a son of God, deserves by right. Your father brought fear and tragedy into the hearts of these people, and your scoundrel brother committed an unthinkable crime. There are those who don’t believe your brother is deserving of a trial at all, considering the substantial evidence against him. Indeed, this is a kindness I am extending to you and your mother. So, for the last time, I will not tolerate your pagan fiction. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you said, although you could feel your confidence wavering, a shaky cold sweat beading up on the back of your neck, pooling acidically in your stomach. He wasn’t going to listen. He didn’t believe you. “But I haven’t lied, I know what I saw.”

That caused an uproar, the people’s voices overlapping, a relentless and meaningless wave of noise. Demanding you be silenced, removed, executed.

“That is enough,” the judge exclaimed, and you didn't know if he spoke to you or the people. “So far, I have disregarded accusations that you were complicit in your brother’s crime, but if you continue to behave in such a manner, I may have to reconsider. That is a charge of patricide, young lady. Do you not have enough decency to spare your mother the loss of another child?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, overcome with a dizzyingly caustic rush of pain and disbelief at the injustice. He didn’t care if your brother was or was not guilty, or who had actually killed your father. To him, the death of a ravi man was meaningless, let alone two. Let alone three. He saw your eyes and ears and that was it.

Trying to fight back the thick swell of fear and pain and anger, you breathed carefully in and out, staring straight up in an attempt to fight the tears.

“It wasn’t my brother,” you said, forcing the words from your mouth without inflection. "He would never, ever… he wouldn't."

“Did you,” the judge asked icily, bluntly, “or did you not see the face of the man who attacked you?”

Red eyes, a long snout, a canine mouth full of deadly sharp teeth. A spirit attempting some approximation of the god of death with twin sickles in hand, trying to twist the kind shepherd’s image into one of terror, a creature wearing the face of evil itself. But the truth cowered away from something far more potent, shamefully grotesque. Self preservation.

“No,” you said, realizing too late the damning significance of that answer, wanting to add more but not knowing what. When you looked your brother in the eye, you understood. And it didn’t matter what you said after that point. You were the girl who cried wolf.

two times questioned.

That night, a great storm blotted out the stars and made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of yourself. You made off into the night with your meager possessions packed up in a sack and some vague idea of where to go in the back of your head, mostly memories of better times. Anywhere was better than the home for wayward girls you had been shuffled into, a place that was a charity in name only.

Ultimately, you didn’t make it far, not even out of the city. There was no place in the world left for you, and you were afraid of the dark, and it was so, so cold.

Falling to your knees at the side of the road, mud splattering you with the force of each raindrop, you cried. Sobbed, curling in on yourself, desperate to wish it all away, wailing louder than the winds could blow as if your misery would overcome nature itself. You tried not to cry much anymore, tried not to show your weakness, but now it all came flooding out. Agony deep enough to drown, heavy enough to crush.

Until you heard a song beneath the gale. Impossible that it should reach you above the riotous storm, impossible that you should know its melody. Panic slushed through your veins in an instant, and you stumbled upright, ready to run from a danger you had so desperately tried to convince yourself didn’t exist. Red eyes and silver sickles and-

When you whirled around to run, you were not caught by a wolf, but by the man you could only think of as the prison warden.

Caked with mud and soaked to the bone, he dragged you back to the home, and you let him, fearing what lurked in the darkness more than you feared the punishment your escape attempt would earn.

Although it wasn’t bright, the light blinded your glazed eyes. You slipped when he released you, but felt nothing when you fell, leaving a muddy smear upon the tiles. Your fingers, bleached of color, were numb to all sensation, slipping when you tried to support yourself. The cold burrowed into your very core. You shook. Violently, as if your soul itself trembled.

Fear had kept it all locked up tight in your chest. Fear of your shame for crying wolf. Fear that if you gave breath to the creature that haunted your dreams, he would be made real. You told yourself that your father was murdered by a man in a mask, but the wolfman haunted you, the face of oblivion, that song and that laugh.

Distantly, you became aware of a commotion, and then the headmistress appeared before you. A towel was forced into your clumsy hands by the same girl who helped you get to your ice-block feet, muttering something about drying off. You doubted a single towel would manage that feat, but you held fast onto the fabric with fingers you couldn’t feel.

“Where in God’s name,” the headmistress demanded, haughty even in her dressing gown and curlers, “do you think you were going?”

You hugged the towel to your chest, feeling the fluffy material grow heavy and limp from your embrace. Ruined by your touch. Shaking so hard your teeth clacked, the entire world jittered and hazed, your bones practically vibrating, tears and snot dripping down your face with the rainwater.

“I asked you a question,” she said, her tone a little more shrill. Anger smoldered in her voice, but your eyes found purchase only on the lacy hem of her nightcoat. Such fine lace would have been imported from the north, your father had sold more than his fair share of it. You owned several pretty dresses decorated with similar frills, once. A lifetime ago. A life that ended with one decisive slash of silver. “Where were you going? Running off with a boy?”

Wide open fields of rippling golden wheat, smooth red cliff sides overlooking deep drops into the abyss, frothy blue waves licking pale sandy shores. Places you knew, places you had only heard about. Ravi weren’t meant to stay in one place, yours was a people of wanderlust and breeze.

The lady stepped forward and slapped your cold, numb cheek. You stumbled, slipping back onto the floor. “You will answer when I ask you a question,” she said. “I will not repeat myself again.”

“I wanted to see my mother,” you finally told her, your voice barely comprehensible from the way you were shaking, more tears welling up. The pain was there, was always there, and it burned hotter than the biting blue on your fingers and toes.

“Oh, for the love of… you’re well on your way to joining her,” she said. “What in the world was I thinking, allowing you into my home…”

You stayed silent. There was no defense you could offer, no excuse you could provide. She sighed, annoyed.

“I’ll decide your punishment in the morning. Assuming you don’t catch cold and die.” She laughed once, a short sound. “I should be so lucky.”

Die. Your sluggish brain was slow to process that word, churning it round and round in a swirl of equally unpleasant thoughts. When you breathed, the air rattled in your chest. Your mother made the same sound at the very end, as if death had already planted its seed in her body, slowly infecting her from the inside out. Fear had never come for her, not like with your father or brother. There was only vacuous ecstasy, the madman’s bliss of fever. When you pictured what she looked like, it was her hollow eyes staring into nothingness, her bones poking out beneath waxy skin in unnatural angles and blood bubbling upon dry lips. “I am going to see them soon,” she told you, smiling. It was the first time since your brother’s execution that she didn’t look at you with blame smoldering beneath her pained eyes. “We’ll be together, and it will be beautiful.”

But it was not beautiful.

Death was a hideous, terrible thing. Despair and empty eyes and rotting flesh without poetry or resolution. Blood dripping from curved blades, lives harvested without mercy, red eyes flashing with glee. A neck snapping and a body gone limp at the end of a rope. Agony in a small room that smelled of human waste and sickness. Death was not beautiful.

three failures.

The other girls called you, among other things, murderer.

“She pushed her.”

“Her kind are all like that, thieves and murderers.”

“Freaks.”

The two of you were stuck cleaning windows, balanced precariously high up in the air. The platform got loose, teetering uncertainly two stories up. It could have just as easily been you rather than her, but it wasn’t. Of course you hadn’t pushed her, but who would believe the word of a ravi?

And who would believe you when you told them of the shadow which greeted her down below? A monster you couldn’t believe in. The bastardized form of a benevolent god. The real murderer.

They saw your fear as guilt. And that was that. Murderer. You hadn’t pushed her, that was a fact. But it was suspicious, wasn’t it? There was a pattern of death surrounding you. Punishment.

Every night, you begged forgiveness, begged for freedom from the creature that haunted you. Bastet did not answer. Ra did not answer. Your prayers became pleas, and your pleas weakened into whimpers. Eventually, you stopped asking.

It followed you. Death, less an intangible concept than a lurking threat circling ever nearer, followed. Your father, your brother, your mother, other girls in the home. But not you, no matter how close you came. Accidents happened. Punishment became more and more brutal. Part of it was because of what you were, a belief that a beast could handle rougher treatment. Part of it was your attitude. Punishment. Live, but live in misery. Survive, but survive endless torment. And they said that you were lucky. The beatings were never deadly, although they should have been. The accidents were never fatal, although they could have been. You shouldn’t have survived, but you did.

four minutes.

It was spring, then. The river beside the road gushed with newfound force, overeager after an especially snowy winter. Even the season of life and rebirth was ripe with violence and death. The scent of it seemed to cling permanently to your dirty clothes, cloying in the chill of night. You and three other girls from the charity house followed by the riverside on the way back to town, your faces dusty and feet heavy from a long day of work. There was, as it turned out, quite a bit of money in renting out orphans to satellite farm estates who could launder clothes, clean carpets, polish silver, and scrub cast iron. No money for you or the other girls, but money nonetheless.

The three chatted as they walked in front of you, a conversation you tuned out. Long had you grown accustomed to walking behind them, ignored and withdrawn. Trailing behind like a shadow, an afterthought. In so-called polite society, that’s all ravi were. They—they with their round irises and human ears, with their unmarked faces and smooth canines—didn’t want you at their side. You understood things like that now, things you had been so blissfully unaware of in your childhood.

You watched their worn-out shoes marching on in synchronized steps. Watched when they suddenly stopped, your eyes drawn up in confusion as they turned towards you with big smiles.

"Those flowers are awfully nice, you should see if you can cross the river to pick some for us."

"I’d go myself, but your kind are more agile than real people, right?"

"The rocks make a perfect bridge for you to cross."

Requests from them, although you weren’t sure they could be called anything other than orders, weren’t abnormal. The only thing lower than an orphaned girl was an orphaned ravi girl. That was the way of it. Rather than forming a bond of solidarity, they emphasized what little status they had left by pushing you around. Surely there were similar flowers on this side of the river, but that wasn’t the point.

Biting your lip, you looked at the rocks spanning the river’s violent course to the other side. It wasn’t much of a bridge. Attempting to cross was, at best, stupid. If you fell, you would be helplessly carried away by the water, thrashed about against the rocks. Dead, surely. But if you denied them, they would almost certainly do worse. Whisper words of your supposed misdeeds to the headmistress, spread lies that would earn you punishment. Malice gleamed in their empty, hollow eyes.

"All right," you said, feigning indifference as you sized up the river.

The girls smiled and tittered as you faced the river. The water roared. Nerves had your hands shaking, but you didn’t let them show.

With a big breath and a mental prayer to Bastet to steady your feet, you stepped onto the first rock. Beneath the worn sole of your boot, the rock was slippery. You set your jaw, going to take another step.

Something knocked against your back. While it was a light touch, the surprise jolted your balance.

Just like that, the rock slipped out from under you. An undignified squawk left your mouth, and your arms flailed around empty air desperately to regain your footing, but you couldn’t manage it.

The water hit as hard as the ground might, immediately dragging you under.

For a moment that seemed to consume forever entirely, animal panic. You inhaled a lungful of water, thrashing wildly. You tumbled sideways as the river dragged you along, hitting rocks on the way. You violently struggled against its unstoppable current in an attempt to get your head above the water.

Unable to breathe, unable to orient yourself, you were as good as dead.

Then you slammed against a rock. The agonizing impact gave you enough of a painful shock to find purchase against it, slicing your palms against the rough edges as you held fast against the water’s oppressive tow. Blindly, you managed to find which way was up and dragged yourself to it. And then you were vomiting river water, hacking it out of your lungs and desperately trying to suck in gasps of air.

Feeling as heavy and broken as a corpse, you managed to flop onto the bank, covering your entire front with mud, crawling through it to drag yourself out of the water completely. It was there that you came eye to eye with three familiar pairs of shoes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“I guess cats can swim after all.”

“You’re lucky that rock was there, huh?”

You coughed up more water, coughed until you were hacking up blood, wheezing and shuddering with bone-deep violence. There would be a terrible bruise on your stomach. But you were alive because of it. Pain, and life. Lucky you.

five years.

Barely into your lanky teens and with nothing more than meager pocket change to live on, you made your final escape from the charity house and went west. The most recent beating was proof enough that if you stayed, you would die. The woman who stitched you up said you only narrowly avoided it this time. You knew a coffin was the sole eventuality waiting for you there. So you left. Despite the time spent there, you parted with no sentimentality for what you would be leaving behind, or excitement for what laid ahead.

In a way, you were following your father’s example. His legacy. In his final days, you heard him muttering about the sun going down. Your brother whispered that he’d grown paranoid of his own death, that it was why your family never stayed in any place for too long. He was driven by a mean, feral fear and even aggression towards death, the cornered-rat instinct to defend your life at any cost, to protect the pitiful remains of existence as an animal would. You thought you understood. So you pressed against your bruises and exhaled slowly, accepting the pain as proof that you were still alive.

Dust kicked up a big cloud behind the wagon, baking beneath the heat of the sun. Although the world was alive with birds and bugs and the sound of hoofs on the road and wheels crunching over ground, you couldn’t empathize. Crusty from a night of fitful sleep, your eyes cringed away from the garish sunlight, your head pounding angrily. Pain and anxiety from your first night on your own kept you awake and, when you did manage a few hours of sleep, you had bad dreams. A fiction where your family was restored and you were all together again. Whole, untainted by horror and death. You woke up hollow and sick and empty, unalive but breathing.

“Are those real?” the girl beside you asked, breaking you from your thoughts. She pointed at your ears, her eyes wide with curious innocence. You imagined that question had been building up for a while, ever since you hitched a ride on her father’s wagon to the nearest town, the two of you sitting in the back of the bed with your legs swinging over the passing road. She was very young, her round-cheeked smile missing a single tooth and bright colored ribbons in her hair. He was going to the next town over to sell goods from his farm.

"Quinta!" her father scolded sharply.

“It’s okay,” you said. It was better to be asked outright than to endure the side glances. “They’re real.” You tilted your head to show her. Quinta reached out to pet the fur, her chubby little hands cautious.

“What are you?” she asked, getting another stern look from her father over his shoulder. Not that you blamed her. He probably didn’t know either, ravi didn't often leave their small communities, and they were practically unheard of in this part of the world. Little wonder, some establishments wouldn’t so much as let you inside. It was a very positive mark on his character that he allowed you to ride on his wagon in the first place, most people wouldn’t.

“I’m ravi.”

She blinked. “Is that why you look like a cat?”

“I guess so.”

Quinta considered that for a moment, staring at you unabashedly. It wasn’t just your ears that were different, otherwise you could have covered them up and avoided the scrutiny. With round eyes and vertical pupils, markings seemingly painted over your cheeks, you stood out regardless of what you did or where you went. Ravi were strangers to everyone, uprooted and adrift, low as the dust trailing beneath your feet. That fact hadn’t changed after you ran away from the charity house, you merely traded the title or orphan for that of vagrant.

“My mom won’t let us keep cats, we only have a dog,” Quinta finally announced. “Do you like dogs?”

You shrugged.

“Are you afraid of them because of-” She put her hands over her head, mimicking your ears.

“We are natural enemies,” you said, although the comment didn’t come across as the joke you intended. Perhaps because it wasn’t a joke.

Quinta didn’t say anything, looking back at the passing road and her swinging feet. The warm air smelled like trees and dust and the stacks of straw piled up on the back of her father’s wagon. When the breeze blew, you got whiffs of the approaching town. Manure, cooking food, fire smoke, and that tangy, sweaty scent of so many people all crowded in one place.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Somewhere else.”

“Oh.”

You looked down, staring at the road. The sun beat down on your neck, sweat beading up on your hairline. You could hear the chorus of a small town’s buzzing crowds as the wagon pulled closer.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Quinta said. “Will you come to our house? I bet you’ll like my dog, he’s really, really nice. My mom is there, you can meet her.”

You smiled, feeling a sharp little pang at her sweet innocence. “Thank you, I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, please say you will.”

“Quinta, that’s enough,” her father chided. She frowned, but said nothing else.

The wagon pulled to a stop where the animals could be hitched. You hopped off and stretched, looking around the town. You weren’t really sure where you would go next. Far away. As far as possible.

“Thank you, sir,” you told the man, bowing politely.

He nodded gruffly, and you knew you shouldn’t linger. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at the sound of his heavy grunt. When he passed the wagon bed, Quinta jumped up onto his back, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. He was quick to rebuke her, scowling as he put her on the ground. That clearly hurt her feelings, turning away with a trembling lower lip and furrowed brows. You felt, for a terrible moment, a great pain in your chest.

You wanted to tell her that he was just busy. Maybe he could be cold and stern, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. You wanted to tell her to love him while she could, that time was finite. Right then, you weren’t looking at a stranger and his daughter, but at a little girl with ears too big for her head and a man who waved at her from the driver’s seat with a sun-crinkled smile, a man who tweaked those fluffy ears with calloused fingers, and a man who kissed her forehead with paper-dry lips.

But then you blinked, sunblind and a little dizzy, and turned away from the scene.

You thought of your father, love for him tender sweet and swelling in your chest, overwhelming. But quickly, always so quick, his smiling, twinkly eyes were emptied as his body fell to the ground, deprived of dignity in those final moments. And the monster turned from him to face you with a wild expression, a growl in its throat. He said you would meet again. The big bad wolf was not real, he was a masked madman, a creature of fiction. All the same, your anxious, cold gaze scanned the crowd of many faces around you. Haunted. Hunted.

sixth sense.

Blisters covered your hands, and you couldn't stop coughing, your body seizing with fits of it. The tangy sour stench of smoke infected every pore of your body, saturated your lungs with its acrid excretions. Somehow, despite the horror of escaping a building as it burned down, you were alive. You had no idea what had woken you up, but it happened before anybody even noticed the fire. Others weren’t so lucky. The girl who slept every night two beds down from you, who was innocent, who had never done anything at all to you, was dead.

"It's not your fault that you couldn’t get to her in time. You were lucky enough to get out with your life," you were told, an attempt at consolation. A lie.

It was your fault. Your punishment. Your presence invited the flame to spark a blaze in the boarding house for working young women, and yet you had lived while someone else died. Above the sound of so many voices, of a chaos world attempting to fix such a tragedy, you could hear it. She screamed for as long as she was able, until her lungs were too coated in sooty black smoke to make a sound, until her flesh melted by the infernal heat. Other women boasted swaths of charred skin, blisters popping bright red and gruesome, bones broken from leaping out windows. Their lives would be ruined by this, by the sheer misfortune of being near you.

And as the flames licked the sky, you could have sworn you saw an inhuman face at the flickering orange edge where the light tapered into shadow, his eyes not so much reflecting the blaze as they were consuming the fire’s callous violence, soaking in the terror which mingled with the smoke.

Then you blinked watery eyes, and the shadow was just a shadow.

There was nothing for it, you left town as soon as you were well enough. Not soon enough, clearly.

It was your fault, your punishment, but terribly, shamefully, you kept thinking, over and over and over, at least it wasn’t you. You breathed in air that still stank of the memory of murderous smoke and felt grateful that you would recover from this incident.

That selfish drive was the crux of it all, the reason you could never allow yourself to move on. After so many years, most people would have found a way forward. They took their anguish in stride and did something with their life. But you didn’t. For you, there was no forgetting, and there was no moving on. You couldn’t be allowed happiness in a life others had been denied, a life that you hoarded so rabidly. Even cowards had to draw a line somewhere, didn’t they? No matter how miserable, you struggled to squeeze one more day out of the harsh world, to carve yourself another miserable hour, and then, crippled by pain and smoke and fear, felt a coward’s joy when facing tragedy because at least it wasn’t you.

Lucky, lucky, lucky you.

seven rainbow hues.

"Watch out!"

It happened so fast. That was the cliche, but the truth. Time did not wait for you to catch up in moments where survival came down to muscle memory. Panic and surprise cut up your perception in choppy little bits. One second you were walking down the road, you noticed a man beneath a falling beam and lunged, and then you were flat on your ass in the middle of a road, adrenaline spiking your heart rate and your entire body shaking with it. So little time had passed that the warning was still tangy in your mouth, the sound stifled by the echoing impact.

Someone was shouting. Screaming.

Sitting up, little rocks grinding into your skinned palms, you looked at the fallen beam not even a foot away. Had you erred even a few inches to the right, you would have been, at the very least, catastrophically injured. Just like the man you tried to push out of the way. He was screaming. His leg was crushed.

But you were fine. Alive.

People swarmed the man to free him from the beam while the world blurred extra bright, the colors of shock overloading your brain, dozens of different voices buzzing together. Someone asked if you were okay. You were. Of course you were. Alive. The carpenter jumped down from his ladder, finally getting the man out from under the beam. A gruesome mess had been made of his shin, bloody and broken. You only watched, a sort of cool numbness had taken the place of adrenaline.

The man's leg was a ruin of flesh and bone, and your only injuries were a bruised tailbone and skinned palms. You should not have survived that.

eight shots of moonshine.

“He reared up real tall, howling like a beast, and that’s when I stuck him,” the hunter said, his expression animated as he recounted the story. It was, by your count, his ninth drink, and the fifth version of his story about how he fought, and escaped, the terrifying half-man-half-wolf beast—el hombre lobo, in the local dialect. It made sense that some cruel spark of fate would invite the subject matter wherever you happened to be, especially now. That’s the way these things always happened, wasn’t it? The world had a way of kicking you when you were down.

You listened to him with half an ear, staring at your chapped, cracked knuckles. Working as a laundress was not kind to your skin. Unfortunately, being ravi and having a limited skill set meant that simple labor was just about all you could get. So you did odd jobs and, once you had enough money, you would be on your way to the next place, and then the next, and the next. Passing through like a ghost, and then gone. Temporary. Just like this bar, this drink, this man and his story. Transient.

“The sound he let out was deafening, and I mean that,” the hunter continued. “I’ve never heard anything like it, not in all my years.”

“That’s not true,” you said loudly, pulling the story to a screeching halt before its predictable conclusion. You hadn’t meant to speak, but you did. If nothing else than to just make him stop. Details changed, but the ending was mostly the same each time. The creature put up a fight, but the hunter was stronger and smarter. Maybe he’d mention the bear trap again, how he watched the wolfman trying to gnaw off its own leg. And it wasn’t like you cared what some random drunk had to say. You didn’t, really. It was the alcohol, and the memories the alcohol was meant to be suppressing, and some misplaced well of fury crammed deep into your gut, unable to be reached or drained or expressed in any meaningful way. Or maybe it was something else, something less palatable. You had a way of testing people’s tempers. Pain was proof of purchase, after all. And you had paid more than your fair share.

“What was that?” the hunter asked, glazed eyes surprisingly lucid when they landed on you, twinkling with an amused sort of incredulousness at being challenged. He had on a sweat stained red shirt and the ruddy complexion to match. Everyone around you was in similar states of drunken disrepair. So were you, for that matter—a shot of something hard and foul tasting past reasonable. Two shots away from having the energy to engage in this stupid argument, which was ridiculous considering you were the one to involve yourself in the first place.

“That didn’t happen,” you said. The few people who had been paying attention in the first place laughed at you, but the hunter seemed intrigued, if irritated, by your attitude.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he asked.

“Do you expect us to believe you fought the big bad wolf?” Those words were old and mean, that of a horrible old man without a shred of mercy in his heart.

Red-shirt’s eyes narrowed. A couple of the men laughed again, sending a few drunken jibes in your direction.

“Is that what you’re supposed to be?” One of his friends called, gesturing at your ears, which twitched under his attention.

“No, no. She’s one of those cat people. The eastern savages,” the man sitting next to you responded, roughly tweaking your ear. He’d made a few friendly comments in your direction throughout the night. And then a few less friendly ones as the liquor loosened his tongue. You winced and ducked away, scowling at him. He grinned. “Have you got any wares to sell us, gata? Or maybe you’re here to put on a show.”

Another laugh, a playful wolf whistle.

“Ah, I understand. I was mistaken,” red-shirt allowed, a mean grin spreading across his face. “It was no wolfman after all. You ought to tell your pa to keep away from these parts. Next time I see him, he won’t get off so easy.”

That drew a bigger laugh from the few people bothering to pay attention. A part of you hated him a little bit, hated him with a riotous, evil sort of passion. His ignorance, his audacity. You hated yourself more for not holding your tongue.

“No, it was her ma,” another man chimed in. “Must have been in heat if she was so focused on you.” You felt a red hot flush rise to your cheeks at that, some uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and anger.

Needing to calm the impulse of rage, and kicking yourself for having spoken at all, you took a deep breath.

“Aw, pobre gata, don’t be upset,” the man next to you said. Poor cat? He drew out the condescending pet name with a sugary sweetness, going for your ears again. You scooted back to avoid him, nearly falling from the alcohol-induced sway of the world. The men laughed again. “Where’re you going?” he asked. “They’re just teasing.”

You licked your dry lips. You needed to leave, it wasn’t the sort of place you should have been hanging out in the first place. Part of you worried that he might try something. He looked hungry. Worse, part of you wondered if he would, wanted to stick around and find out what kind of situation you’d dug yourself into. Curiosity didn’t come from desire or lust, but from something darker, the impulse of deserved violence. Alcohol made it worse, made you think that maybe you could want it, that you might enjoy being roughed up and used in a vulgar game of intimacy.

“Let me buy you another drink,” he offered. “I promise not to tease you.”

You pursed your lips, and knew you would hate yourself later, and decided that it didn’t matter all that much anyway. “Okay.”

Hours later, you were sweaty, sour with alcohol but no longer drunk enough to tolerate the discomfort, and ultimately dissatisfied with the interaction as you stumbled through the quiet town back to the room you had been renting. The unpleasant scent of sex was all you could smell, it clung to your rumpled dress and messy hair. Evidence of your mistake. Despite being so forward, he hadn’t been what you hoped. Whenever you pulled back, he thought to coax you further with sweet words rather than rough hands. You’d have been better off trying to antagonize the man in the red shirt to get what you really wanted, not a quick upright with a man who wanted to slobber on your neck and call you beautiful.

Disgust, shame—a sickening feeling of wrong had you ducking into an alley, vomiting up a stomach full of bile and alcohol like a homeless wretch, shaking hard enough that your teeth clattered. Snot, stomach acid, and tears smeared against the side of the building when you pressed your fevered cheek against it, the material rough on your skin. But it was cool, and solid, and you were breathing. Alive.

Miserable. Beautiful. That was your mother’s word. An ugly, ugly word. Your shoulders heaved with half-hearted sobs, your skin crawling and stomach twisting. You were alive because the only thing you feared more than the hideous pain of living was beautiful death, and that was the ugliest feeling you could possibly imagine.

Eventually, you collected yourself, wiping your mouth and eyes, and completed your walk of shame, your thoughts lingering on el hombre lobo and the furious hollow in your chest, and the sort of hatred which begged violence and cried for pity.

nine lives.

Afternoon faded into sunset as you walked, and you weren’t too concerned. If anything, you felt the same relaxing sense of relief you always felt when you left one place for another.

No, you didn’t worry at all until twilight gave way to the rise of the moon. That’s when you stopped, frowning up at the sky. Either you were lost or you had severely misjudged the distance. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done other than continue on and hope that you reached civilization soon. You pulled your cloak a little closer to fight off the chill, adjusting your bag uncomfortably. Summer was coming, but the air retained the cold damp newness of deep spring.

And so you trundled along, reminding yourself over and over that it was okay. While possible, it wasn’t likely that anything would happen to you.

Your anxiety wasn’t helped by the full moon. A morbid coincidence, and a mixed blessing. It was full that night. Illuminating your father’s twisted expression of fear, haloing the impossible beast looming above you, lighting your way when you ran, dying your blood into the color of ink. As always, it was a bit of mischief the universe was having at your expense. It shone the same steady pale silver, bleaching the world in imitation sunshine just like it always had, always did.

A gentle breeze shook the tree canopy, the leaves shivering. Above them, the perfect velvet blue veil of sky was mostly undisturbed by clouds. The stars twinkled and winked, dulled slightly by the radiance of the moon. Bugs wailed and frogs sang their nighttime dirge, an unsettlingly miserable sound. No matter how uncomfortable the sun could be, blinding and revealing, the night was worse. It was the place where nightmares lived, after all. And the woods, the place where the big bad wolf hid.

Right. These were the woods where the hunter claimed to have seen the wolfman those few weeks ago. A chill slithered down your spine at that realization. While it was most certainly a lie, in the dark, it troubled you. It frightened you. There were many things in the deep, dark woods to be afraid of. Hiding, lurking.

Huffing with annoyance at your paranoia, you vigorously shook your head and focused on the path instead. Everything was fine, you just had to keep going.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the wind began to blow a lot harder, catching the hem of your cloak and loose strands of hair, crawling beneath your clothes to make you shiver. At the same time, a shadow slowly closed in around you, a stray cloud covering up the moon. The sudden lack of light made the shadows darken significantly. Goosebumps crawled across your entire body in response to the windy chill, hairs standing on end and visceral discomfort lurching in your gut like a hook behind your belly button. Surrounded on all sides by darkness, stranded in the woods, you were completely and utterly vulnerable.

Then it all—bugs, the frogs, and the wind—everything died. Not slowly, tapering off naturally, but all at once, as if a great dampener was suddenly pressed into the air. And that was strange, that was eerie, that was cause for fear, but the first whistled note shot straight into your core.

Trees were hungry things. They, with their thick wood and big bodies, had an appetite for sound. Echoes, however, were mischievous. They would rather play tricks than be eaten. Back and forth, from everywhere and nowhere, a tune you knew all too well danced amidst the silent forest. The notes jumped from one to the next in a song that should have been cheerful but wasn’t. You didn’t move. You felt like you couldn’t. Standing there, ears perked and twitching in search of any noise aside from the whistling, heart racing, cold sweat gathering on the nape of your neck, you suddenly knew, with an alarming degree of certainty, that you weren’t alone.

Slowly, eyes watering from the sudden burst and disappearance of the wind, you looked up.

The whistler, seeming not to notice you, was no more than a dozen feet ahead, a darker shadow amidst the void, a little off the edge of the clearing. Jarring surprise shot like lightning down your spine at the sight, at how close you were to somebody you hadn’t noticed, so powerful that you stumbled backward on pure instinct. But your foot landed on a mossy rock and the squishy material slid out from under your boot. You tried to find your balance, but you wound up overcorrecting, sending you forward instead. With a yelp and a loud thump, you tumbled onto the ground, landing hard on your elbows and knees.

The song ended.

“¿Tan deseosa estás de ser engullida?” the man asked, amused. You looked up, terrified, but without any moonlight to help you see, the most you could make out was the vague shape of a hooded figure leaning against a tree.

Fear made your hands shaky, your body unwieldy and awkward. Scrambling, unsure if you should have been embarrassed or scared, you got up to your feet. At least you weren’t hurt.

“I-I don’t… no entiendo,” you said, wondering, hoping, fearing, unsure. At least it was just a man. That shouldn’t have been the consolation it was. It shouldn’t have been any consolation at all.

“I asked if you needed any help,” he clarified in an accented voice, amused in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I, um… I was just surprised, bu-but it’s okay,” you said, trying very hard to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I would hate for you to wind up like the last girl who got lost in the woods,” he said. You squinted into the dark, but you couldn’t see any details beyond a shadow. Covered moon or not, the dark was borderline unnatural. “She was gobbled up whole, her granny too. You’ve even got the red hood.”

It took you a second to register that he was messing with you. Entertaining any sort of interaction was foolish, but you couldn’t help your nervous laugh, pulling your cloak closer. “Oh, yeah.”

The stranger laughed in turn, forcefully friendly in a very uncomfortably stilted way. The sound sent a fresh shiver down your spine. “They don’t get very many people coming all the way out here to visit,” the man said. “Are you here to see family, gatita?”

Your ears twitched nervously. “Um… Excuse me?”

“Is that offensive? I can never remember what you beast types call yourselves. Ra… something.”

“Ravi,” you said.

“That’s right. I’ve never been much of a cat person myself, but I can see the appeal. The big eyes, the fuzzy ears… Very cute.” He paused. “Hey, can you purr too?”

You drew back, your awkward moment of uncertainty giving way to dread at the underlying danger of a question like that. While many people scorned you blindly, there were those with a particular taste for half-breeds.

“I need to get going, it’s late,” you said slowly. You didn’t want to turn your back on him, and you had no idea how close you were to town, but anything was better than here.

“Wait, before you go, I heard a story recently,” he said, unconcerned with your response. “It’s about your kind. Stop me if you’ve heard it before.”

“I don’t-”

“Once upon a time,” he said, speaking as if you hadn’t, “a gato got it in his head that one life wasn’t enough for him. Even though he had everything he could ask for—a wife, two children, a successful career, he was proud. He didn’t see why he should have to abide by the same rules as everyone else. Of course, he was warned that it was a bad idea, but it became a… preoccupation of his. He traveled just about everywhere, certain that he could do what no one else had.”

The man paused, giving you a moment to register his words, to feel the slow drip of horror pooling in your stomach.

“It didn’t work out for him, in the end. It never does.”

“Who are you?” you asked, although you had a feeling. A very strange, awful feeling. “How do you-”

“Do you know how it ends?” he asked, pushing away from the tree and standing up, stepping out of the shadows, only a few feet in front of you. Your eyes were better adjusted now, taking in as much light as possible. His hood fell back, letting you see the man in full.

Only, he wasn’t a man.

For a second, the ears on the top of his head made you think he was ravi too. But they were too small. Pointed. Distinctly canine.

Then the rest of it registered.

He wasn’t a wolf standing on hind legs, or a person with wolf features, but some inhuman, impossible mix of the two. His long, toothy snout was distinct to a dolichocephalic skull. A beast. That’s what you would assume given all that thick gray fur, round eyes, and the pointy ears directly on top of the head. But somehow, despite all of that, something about his face registered as perfectly, sickeningly, uncannily human.

And you knew him. You saw him in your nightmares, in the shadows, in the darkest places of your mind. No matter what resolve you had before that moment, all you wanted was to run. You needed to run. But fear, pure and distilled, paralyzed you.

“No? That’s fine, it’s just a story, after all,” he said, the words far too well articulated considering the wolf’s muzzle they were coming from, the shiny sharp teeth through which they were spoken.

You opened your mouth to respond, and instead you whimpered as you exhaled.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You remember me, don’t you? I remember you. Although, you were a lot smaller back then. Who would’ve thought that you’d turn out to be such a looker?" He laughed at that, a stilted chuckle. When you didn’t respond, his demeanor dropped, darkened. “Your fear was intoxicating.”

Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and sniffed at the air like a dog. You couldn’t do anything, your limbs refusing to move even though every cell in your body screamed at you to run. When he leaned back and exhaled, his lips pulled back in what was very distinctly a smile, an expression that should have been impossible for a wolf to make.

“I’ve waited a long time to see you like this again, I worried that it would be disappointing,” he told you, red eyes opening. They were mad. His smile was mad. Dread overwhelmed your system. “But you smell even better than I remember.”

He took a step forward. With a few unnerving exceptions, his body was human enough. Tall, broad shouldered, slightly hunched, wearing clothes like a person. His hands were almost like paws with pads and claws, but were articulated like your own—short one finger. He was no monster. He was a nightmare come to life.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Surprised to see me?”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, you’re not… not real.”

You could see the excitement in his eyes as he licked his lips with a long tongue, another entirely animalistic motion. The perfect meld of human and wolf traits was fascinating. Sickening. Something that should not exist.

You did nothing other than stare at him with wide eyes as he leaned in. And you did nothing as he raised his hand, dragging the claw in a butterfly kiss over your cheek. “You think?” he asked, the growl in his voice almost like a purr.

That woke you out of your trance and you stumbled back, covering the skin which tingled from the very real touch.

He laughed and straightened out, but didn’t follow you. “It’s not safe to be out here so late. You never know what you’ll find lurking in the woods.”

You swallowed hard, your breathing picking up, the old well of fury cracking open just a little. There should have been more, but the fear was too intense, cold in your veins. “What are you?” you asked, barely audible. Frightened of the answer, but desperate to know.

“Your father called me Anubis. That’s one of your gods, right?”

“You are not a god,” you said, an objection because you couldn’t allow this nightmare, any degree of holy pedigree that you had feared for so long. There was doubt in your voice though, doubt you couldn’t stifle.

“It depends on how you look at it,” he allowed. “But it’s true that I have no interest in being worshiped, and I certainly don’t want your faith. I prefer fear.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head in a hazy attempt to fight back the swelling tide of fear, to deny him that. “I'm not… not afraid of you, wolf."

That didn’t so much as make him blink. "You fear me more than you fear anything else."

"No! You killed my… my—I hate you."

“Sure you do."

“And because of you, my brother was…” You couldn’t finish the statement, your entire body nearly vibrating from the way you were shaking. “And then mm-my mother...”

“Execution and, what was it, some kind of sickness?” The wolf clicked his tongue. “It’s a harsh world.”

“You took them from me,” you said softly. “You took everything.”

“Do you want revenge, gatita? You wouldn’t be the first.”

The mocking tone of his voice was as bad as a slap across the face. Even if you wanted revenge, what fight could you possibly put up against an impossible creature like him? You flexed your hands and clasped them together, your breathing picking up with the confusion of old fury and sadness and fear.

“I want to know why,” you finally said.

The wolf sighed, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated—and far too human—way as he continued to circle you. “Everybody thinks there’s a reason. There isn’t. Who lives, who dies, it’s all the same to me in the end. But there are those who… tempt fate. Although, I prefer to call it tempting death."

"You're saying that my father wanted to die? You're crazy,” you argued, your shoulders tensing in some form of defense.

"He was especially tempting. His pride, his ego, his fear… I gave him several chances, and he chose to insult me over and over again.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I may have gotten carried away. You can’t blame me for wanting some fun now and again."

Despite the relative warmth of the night, the air chilled whenever you inhaled, your skin raising with goosebumps. Something in your head clicked, the understanding you had been trying very hard not to acknowledge.

"What are you?" you asked again, but you were thinking that you knew. Of course you knew, it was something you’d known for a long time.

"You know who I am."

"Death," you whispered.

“And you know all about tempting death, don't you? To be honest, I’m starting to lose my patience, gatita,” he practically whispered the pet name, leaning down behind you so the word brushed intimately against your ear, his breath disturbing the fine hairs and making them twitch.

You yelped and jumped away, twisting around. All you could think about was how close all those teeth had been to your ears. Your neck. Death watched as you stumbled even further backwards, hitting a tree and falling against it.

“Watching you survive things that would kill anybody else over and over, it’s unbearable. You throw yourself into danger like you’re trying to tease me.” Genuine irritation glowed in his eyes. Frustration. You shouldn’t have been able to see an emotion like that on such an inhuman face.

You needed to run. Whether or not that was a good idea no longer mattered. Surely he wouldn’t follow you out of the woods, surely sanity would take his place once you were back among civilization, out of the moonlight’s pure lunacy. Your insides squeezed sickeningly. Your heart raced.

“Is it a cat thing? You inherited the ears, the eyes, and, what, the nine lives? I guess that skipped a generation,” Death mused, his demeanor shifting completely right back into amusement. “Or maybe it’s just dumb luck. What do you think, gatita—are you feeling lucky tonight?”

Run. You needed to run.

Death stepped forward.

You had to run.

Rather than get any closer to him to follow the trail, you rolled off of the tree to the side so you could escape into the trees, letting your pack drop to the ground to avail yourself of the extra weight. With your back to the wolf, you sprinted, not caring where it took you, only that it was as far away from him as possible.

Behind you, you heard him calling out to you. You heard him laughing. You gasped and choked for breath, your feet pounding against the forest floor, your streaming eyes blind to anything other than what was directly in front of you. Running, catching the sharp fingers of trees across your arms and face, stray logs and squishy moss and wet grass threatening to trip you with every step. All around, you could hear his laughter, echoing around amidst the trees and in your head.

And for what? Your escape had been doomed from the start, nothing more than the animalistic instinct of prey.

It really only made sense when you realized that Death stood directly in your path, a hulking shadow with red eyes. Your body jolted on instinct and you skittered into a hard stop, momentum pushing you forward while your feet tried to backtrack.

“¿Dónde vas, gatita? Haven’t you heard that it’s dangerous to stray from the path?”

Thoughtlessly, you twisted around, but you were too slow. Or he was too fast. Grabbing a fistful of fabric from the back of your cloak, Death dragged you backwards. And then you were looking into a pair of bright red eyes, choking as your cloak’s tie tightened around your windpipe.

He growled as a wolf would, and you felt base terror in your very core. No matter how humanly he expressed emotion, his face was very decidedly that of a wolf, of a predator that you were naturally wired to fear. A rising surge of bile burned in your throat from running and all you could hear was your heartbeat, thundering ever faster. You choked out a yelp, lashing out however you could in a bid to get free. He easily avoided every attack you threw out, seemingly bored by the attempts, casually holding you at arms length.

“What I really can’t stand,” he told you, his voice low and calm, “is how you waste it. Fighting so hard to stay alive, and for what? Nothing will be lost when I end it.”

“Shut up!” you cried, choking the words out through gritted teeth. You would live. Survive just like you always did. He considered that, licking his lips before irritation once more gave way to excitement.

“Then again,” Death said, letting you down enough to stand on your toes, allowing you to take a breath. Oxygen hit you in a hard rush, you might have fallen over if he weren’t steadying you. “I’m in no rush.”

“Let me go,” you demanded, your breathing ragged, your ears buzzing and ignorant of his words.

Death smiled, his wolfish muzzle pulled back in an expression so human it bordered on obscene. His face was right to yours, you could practically count each of his deadly sharp teeth, see into the soulless depths of those evil eyes.

“Your fear is positively mouthwatering. The poor little kitten is really terrified of el lobo feroz. That fear is the only thing that’s ever given your life purpose. If you think about it, I’m the only reason you keep going. It’s almost flattering.” He licked his lips again, considering you intently. “You don’t mind having some fun before I kill you, right?”

“No!” you screamed the word, but all it did was make his eyes flash with hunger.

“I’m going to eat. You. Up.”

Every muscle in your body went taut, seizing with a different sort of horror. That confounded curiosity to know what he intended, the disturbing impulse to tempt violence, was only heightened by the adrenaline in your system. You had no word for the dark feeling, for the disturbing impulse. Only disgust, swirling dark twisting up hot and low in your gut. With shaking hands, you finally managed to undo the tie around your neck, dropping out of your cloak and onto the ground. And then, before you could even stand up, you were running.

This time, Death didn’t react. No laughter or jeering taunts followed your escape. Dampened beneath the rush of blood in your ears and your feet pounding on the forest floor, the woods were full of the normal sounds. Bugs and frogs and birds and the breeze.

All the same, you knew that el lobo feroz wasn’t far behind. You knew that, and you knew you wouldn’t escape from him. Not this time. But you couldn’t just stop. So you made your frantic flight through the trees, sprinting as fast as you could to escape a creature which existed in opposition to all that was sane or safe. Death himself.

From behind you, in front of you, on both slides, all around, the lilting whistled tune finally began. Panic, bright red and raw, caused you to trip. There was a jolt when your foot caught on something, sending a little shockwave all up your body, then a lurch as gravity forced you down and momentum dragged you forward. For a moment, true weightlessness. And then you were skidding and somersaulting along the ground, skinning your hands and knees all over again before you collapsed, your chin painfully knocking against the ground when you completed your tumble. No pain registered, just numb confusion. You were breathing so hard your lungs burned, your tongue paper dry and sour. Despite the deafening sound of your heart beating and the wheezing rattle of air in your lungs, you could hear his song.

Everything, everything hurt, but you forced yourself up, to shamble into the bushes, curling into a ball to wait.

The song ended.

Seconds—less than that, really—passed before anything happened. Then you heard him. He allowed you to hear him, your pursuer wasn’t concerned that you would manage to escape. He didn’t need to bother running after you, or disguise the noise of his approach. You squeezed your eyes shut until you heard heavy feet crunching through the grass and twigs right in front of you, peeking them open to watch a figure emerge from the darkness.

Death stopped to sniff the air like the predatory beast he appeared to be. You pressed both hands over your mouth and nose, your entire body shaking with the tension of staying stiffly still. For a moment, you hoped he would move on. You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“This has been fun,” he said conversationally, “but you’re not exactly the most challenging hunt. So, make this easier for yourself and come out, or make it more fun for me and stay put. Your choice, gatita.”

Your sore, overworked body twitched, wanting to obey and spare yourself. But if he knew where you were, he wouldn’t be looking around randomly like he was, right? Unless this was another game and he was trying to trick you, to see how you’d respond to that threat. But he could be bluffing. You didn’t know, and that uncertainty kept you in place.

Death chuckled ominously, leaving your line of sight. Somehow, that was worse than anything else, the nothingness of blind anticipation.

For a fleeting moment, you hoped he had moved on after all.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” Death asked. Behind you, above you. A short little scream ripped from your throat as he grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you upright so fast that your body went limp with dizziness, head spinning with terror and a fresh rush of energy. He kept you up by exchanging a fistful of hair for the front of your dress. “Me temo que no tiene suerte.”

Getting your bearings, you yelped, thrashing out of his grip. Death let you go too easily, causing you to stumble. You went down hard. This time, it did hurt. Your hands and knees were skinned raw. But still, you crawled. It wasn’t a choice, it was instinct.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Death said, crouching down behind you. He laughed. “I’ve got a feeling that you will too.”

“No—no.”

“You can’t lie to me. I can smell it. Fear mixed with desire… It's delicious. I can’t wait to have a taste.”

All you could do was grunt when he grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you up and manhandling you onto your back. You fell with a heavy sound, dizzy all over again.

“I’d say I was surprised, but… Well, I’m not,” Death said, straddling you. His legs were completely wrong. They bent like a man’s at the knee, but bent again with the backwards angle of a wolf’s legs, ending in a set of thick paws. His face was worse. He spoke with such vivid animation. It shouldn’t have been possible for a wolf’s face to emote like that, it shouldn’t have been possible that Death himself could look so gleeful, so excited. When you attempted to drag yourself away, he settled more of his weight on top of you. “This is how you like it, right? Rough. It makes you feel alive.”

Even in your terrified panic, you knew what he was talking about. How long had he been watching you? How intently? Had you ever managed to escape from him, or were you just running around like a headless chicken, never knowing you were doomed? Furiously rejecting that, you bucked upward, bowing your back to throw him off. When that didn’t work, you grasped fistfuls of fabric from the front of his shirt to get leverage.

Death growed low and grabbed your face, slamming your head against the ground, claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. He followed while you were still reeling, leaning down to talk directly into your ear.

“Do you feel alive now, gatita?”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut so you couldn’t see his frightening face. El lobo feroz. His nose was cold and leathery when it brushed your face as he pulled back, air ghosting across your cheek and making you whimper. Death laughed, sitting up.

“The ears really are cute,” he told you, releasing your cheeks to take hold of your ear instead. The rough pads caught on the delicate skin, brushing the fur up in a way that made you shudder. He saw that, you could tell by the way his red eyes flashed, the way he licked his lips again. “Who knows, maybe you’ll change my mind about cats.”

“Stop it,” you said, covering your face in an attempt to find peace from this absurdity. He hadn’t broken skin with his claws, but your chin and palms were busted up, your cheeks latticed with shallow scrapes from the trees.

“I told you. You can’t hide from me,” Death said, his voice dragging with a growl. The threat was emphasized by the sudden cold edge dragging lightly against your neck.

Stiffening, you lowered your hands, looking up at him with wet eyes—looking at the humanoid wolf claiming to be death, who had killed your father and ruined your life, who had haunted you every day since, whose mere shadow terrified you to your core, and once you came to grips with the unbelievability of what you saw, you had to contend with the knowledge that you were powerless to such a nightmare. Utterly, completely powerless.

Death groaned. Or hummed. Or growled. It was a happy sound, excited. “Está buena, gatita,” he told you, saying it like praise. “I don’t normally go for this sort of thing.” Casually, he nudged your chin upward before dragging the sickle down so the point caught beneath the neckline of your dress. “I shouldn’t. It’ll have to be our secret, hm?”

Willful ignorance had done nothing for you thus far, but you still clung to it. He couldn’t be talking about what you thought he was. He couldn’t be that human.

In a sharp movement, he pulled the sickle downward. Fabric ripped loudly in the quiet night. Yelping, you tried to pull the scraps back together, to cover yourself because that indignity was too far, wasn’t it? Nudity could mean nothing more than a prelude to violence to something like him, but it was different to you.

Death growled in annoyance, pressing the weapon’s tip into the soft give of your stomach.

“Hands off,” he told you. You didn’t move, and he pressed down. Not too much, just enough to break the skin, to draw blood.

“Stop,” you said, clinging even more desperately to the front of your ruined bodice, “that hurts.”

“I’ll keep going. To. The. Hilt.” Death drew out each word, pressing down with each word to make his point, the sickle’s edge disappearing into your skin. He meant it. Obey or suffer.

Looking straight above at the uncaring night sky, you released your bodice. He chuckled as he pulled the weapon away. It might have been that sound, or the crushing disgust of being exposed. There was very little thought behind the way you lashed out, capitalizing on his moment of distraction as he readjusted himself.

Your pathetic attempt at escaping the inevitable lacked any art or intelligence, only the final burst of energy that came from knowing you’d have no more chances after this. Death avoided your thrashing limbs, letting you wriggle your way upward, twisting around to try and crawl away. And then he drove the sickle into the ground right beside your hand, the blade only narrowly missing your fingers as he drove it into the dirt. You yelped, flinching away. Death used the moment to flip you around again, slamming the air out of your lungs.

"Delicious," he growled, curling over you to get at the exposed skin of your torso. Fabric that hadn’t been properly cut was torn away by his hands. Hands, paws. Human finger articulation and the thick pads of a dog’s feet, each tipped with dangerously long claws. They caught your skin, the rough pads like sandpaper on your sensitive flesh. Just as quickly as the fabric was out of the way, his nose replaced it, his hulking form hunching over your body. Each rapid inhale tickled your skin, pairing disturbingly with the cold of his nose. Unlike his hands, his tongue was soft, lapping up the blood he’d drawn on your stomach before he moved up. The uncanny mixture of sensations made you squirm.

“Stop, stop now,” you said, jerking in uncoordinated little bursts beneath him more on instinct than rational thought. Fur filled the spaces between your fingers as you tried to push him off. He didn't react to you tugging on it, all it did was remind you of how bestial he was. The whole situation was terrifying, yes. But, more viscerally, it was gross. Deeply uncomfortable to feel his long, smooth tongue, to endure the threat of teeth as he moved up, to choke back disgust and terror as he passed over your nipples. “Stop,” you whined the word despite yourself, your eyes screwed shut in an attempt to separate from reality. Death chuckled, moving up across your flushed chest, to your neck, leaving you flushing bright red and slick with his saliva.

“Impatient?” he asked, the words brushing over your fluttering pulse. “I’m not surprised. That’s fine.”

The waistband of your dress didn’t part as easily as the top. He worked from the other end instead, making a slit to tear the fabric up and expose your stockings and panties. Claws made short work of the thin, well worn cotton, carving shallow lines into your skin to strip you entirely.

“Nn-no, what are you doing? Stop, st-” your words cut off with a heavy ‘umph’ when he pushed you back down. Death didn’t so much as look at you as he admired his handiwork, let alone respond to your plea.

“Just like I thought,” he said. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“No,” you said, desperately shaking your head. All you could see was his sharp, sharp teeth, those deadly claws. And your body was electrified, covered with drool and chills and thrumming hot with blood. There was no way out of this, you couldn't even comprehend the pain he could cause. Out of options, you pushed down the remains of your skirt, attempting to close your legs.

Claws dug into your thighs as Death forced them back open with a little growl, sparing you no indignity. The moon deprived you of the cover of darkness and it shouldn’t have been so embarrassing because he wasn’t a man, but it was. Just like he had with your torso, Death explored the exposed skin. The puffing brushes of air as he sniffed and licked along your thighs was humiliating and obscene on its own, nevermind when he nipped at the sensitive flesh to make you whimper, forcing you to contemplate the damage those teeth could do where you were most vulnerable.

The thought of such agony had you try a final time to close your legs, only to have them spread even wider, giving you the perfect view of el lobo feroz with his muzzle pressed against your pussy, his long pink tongue lolling out to drag across your slit. It wasn’t the pain you anticipated, but it was just too strange, too surprising, too disturbing. Having the snout of a beast between your legs, regardless of the creature's perceived humanity, was enough to make you feel sick, twisted and filthy.

“No, no, don’t,” you demanded shrilly, kicking in an attempt to displace him. Death growled, claws puncturing into your skin as he pushed your hips back down, peering up at you. His eyes didn’t reflect or catch the moonlight. They glowed. Empty. Evil.

“Ten cuidado, gatita,” he warned. “Haven’t you ever been warned about getting in the way of a wolf and his meal?”

“Please,” you said, unable to comprehend that this could happen. That this would happen. “Please don’t… don’t. You can’t do this.”

“What are you going to do to stop me?”

That was awful, too awful for words. Fight and risk more pain, or let it happen and… And what? What rational response could you possibly have to this other than disgust and despair? Maybe you should have been glad he wasn’t about to rip you to bloody shreds and feast on the remains, glad that you would be spared pain and immediate death, but that consolation felt terribly cheap when confronted with the equally unimaginable.

“You can’t,” you said, your voice too high, terrified into a whine. “You’re not even… I mean it’s not like you can… like you’ll… you can…”

Death hummed in annoyance, you could feel the vibration of the sound. “Te voy a comer. Y luego te voy a coger,” he told you, the words easy like he was explaining something very simple which, considering you couldn’t understand them, only made it that much worse. “¿Está bien, gatita?”

“No,” you said. “No, I don’t…” Understand. Believe. Consent.

Death laughed, arranging your legs into a more comfortable press towards your chest to make room for his hulking form. There was nothing you could do to make him stop.

The pads of his fingers were painfully rough against your pussy’s outer lips, catching on the sensitive flesh as he parted them. His tongue, however, was softer than anything you’d ever felt, lapping at your entrance, up to your clit. You squirmed uncontrollably, locked in some limbo of disgust, discomfort, and embarrassment.

You thought that if you just closed your eyes, if you just blocked it out, you could pretend that this wasn’t happening, but Death hummed out an animalistic growl, and his tongue was far too long and dexterous to be human, and his fur bristled against your thighs, and there was no way out. Already, your body was waking up to the stimulation. Responding. There was something wrong with you. You knew that, you’d known that for a long time, taking pleasure in beatings, wanting sex to be rougher and rougher, needing to be brutalized like it was an itch to be scratched. This was a new low, the grotesque indulgence of those most perverse.

Like you.

“Please stop,” you whined, another plea to add to the string of ignored requests. Death made a sound you could feel more than hear. For reasons other than fear, you shuddered at the noise.

With your clit acceptably swollen, your body twitching with every movement, his tongue slicked downward. Your hips jumped, legs closing and opening with surprise, but Death wasn’t deterred.

“No-oh,” you sounded so weak, your rejection coming out pathetic and breathy.

Death made another growl-like sound, pushing you down flat with mean claws that poked fresh holes into your skin. You hadn’t been trying to escape, you just couldn’t stop from squirming as he tested the flinching muscles of your entrance. This was new, and different, and terrible, and foul. His tongue was soft and long and far too dexterous, pushing into you with a few hungry strokes. No human man could do that. It wasn’t physically possible.

You whimpered, your head falling back in some vain attempt to block it all out. Escape wasn’t so easy. While his tongue lacked the pressure and weight of something solid, he attacked your g-spot with precision. Eating you out. Eating you. Given that long snout, it had to have been awkward, but that didn’t seem to deter him. And every time his head moved, his nose ground against your clit. He was probably watching you, watching you twitch and gasp and writhe helplessly, but you kept your eyes squeezed shut. The sight of a wolf’s head between your legs like this would kill you, surely it would.

Unbidden, you remembered telling the child Quinta that dogs were your natural enemy, and your penchant for seeking the companionship of those who promised animosity, and the wicked sort of sense it made that you would find yourself here, and you could only laugh at it all but the hysterical sound came out like a sob, and then a low groan, and then a sharp whine when Death pressed the rough pad of one of his fingers against your clit instead, dragging small little circles against it while his tongue continued to torment you.

“No, no, no, no-”

Whatever you were denying, it was pointless. Noise for the sake of it, words getting all tangled up with your choked moans and sobs and hiccups. The little addition of pain from the too rough texture on your clit was enough to give you what you really wanted, what you always ached for.

Pleasure lurched in your core, your hips bucking wildly. Death growled again and it was mean. Aggressive. You seized up, mouth open wide as if for a scream, your feet planted so you could tilt your hips up for more. More pleasure, more pain. Disgust, shame, fear, all of it became white hot and foul, agonizingly sexy in the few moments where the high of orgasm negated the living nightmare between your legs.

And then you were coming down, hips jerking into the tongue of a wolf monster, the creature that had killed your father, Death himself, and you actually sobbed, shying away from his touch as little sparks of overstimulation promised something worse. Unable to escape in any material way, you covered your face. Tears, dirt, and blood smeared together on the feverish, sweaty skin, nearly suffocating as you panted.

Death let you be and sat up, laughing. Laughing at you.

“That was faster than I expected.”

Peeking out from between your fingers, you saw the way his muzzle was glistening before his tongue swiped it away, saw the way he was smiling as he mocked you. “Ah. Unh-no, I-”

Death leaned over you. You flinched away, but he only grabbed the sickle he’d driven into the ground beside you. Casually, he flicked the blade out. The cool metal winked in the moonlight. Although you were still trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm, you weren’t too far gone to feel a fresh wave of fear. Immediately, you curled in on yourself, covering as much of your vulnerability as possible.

“You cower in fear, but I can taste your desire,” Death said, licking his lips. “It’s not half bad.”

“Please just… just stop.”

“I’m doing you a favor. You’re too tight.”

Death didn’t elaborate on that, positioning the weapon’s hilt between your legs, pushing the flared base between your folds before you could figure out what was happening. Everything was wet with a mixture of saliva and your own arousal, slick enough for the weapon to press against your entrance. You figured it out then, but he pinned you in place with a hand on your stomach, claws pressing against the flinching skin. There was nothing you could really do to avoid it, and you didn’t dare close your legs around the blade itself.

“This might hurt.”

“Stop, please stop, you can’t—”

Death didn’t say anything, watching your expression as he pushed the weapon’s grip into you. To see such a sharp blade between your legs in any capacity was dizzying, and that was without the intensely physical pressure of its grip rubbing against your inner walls.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he asked. “To. The. Hilt.” With every word, he drove the weapon deeper, your body jerking with each movement.

“Stop, just stop, please, take it…take it out.”

“I’d do it myself, but,” Death said, holding up his off-hand, “I’m not so sure you’d like that.” His claws practically gleamed in the moonlight, and you knew exactly how rough the pads were. The idea of those inside of you was enough to make your insides wither, although all that really amounted to was your cunt tightening around the weapon. You grunted at the feeling, shook your head fast, panicked.

“No! No,” you told him as coherently as you could. Your tongue was dry as bone, you choked on the grit.

“Thought so,” he replied, pulling the sickle back only to slam it back in.

The textured grip felt disturbingly good in some mad, broken way. His tongue had been so smooth and soft, but this was solid and firm, forcing itself into you. He used it like a tool, not bothering to simulate sex, twisting it this way and that, forcing your pussy open. Making room. You couldn’t help but writhe with each movement, your cunt tightening around the grip, hips tilting up as you were consumed by a confusing twist of disgust and need. Violence and pain were things you knew and understood. Familiarity had you dripping around the weapon, you could hear how wet you were, and his harsh motions only emphasized the vulgar sound.

“Not bad,” Death said, amused by the sight. You shut your eyes. “This weapon killed your father. It’s only fair that you should die by it too—una pequeña muerte.”

“Don’t,” you said, body going painfully tense with disgust, with hate, with fear. Death pulled the sickle out, pushing it back in with an ugly squelch, dragging a pained yelp from your mouth, and then a distinctly less pained one when he twisted it slightly. “No, no, I…”

Little death. You belatedly realized the implication of that. You’d already come once, it wasn’t nearly as difficult to build you up again. Especially not when he was being more deliberate with each thrust, when the sandpaper-rough texture of his finger nudged at your clit again.

Nothing in particular set you off, maybe it was just the acceptance of sensation, the acknowledgement that it would buy you a few moments of madness from this unthinkable situation. Gasping, flushing, writhing like a creature possessed, you seized up, pleasure flushing through your system with a white-hot sort of frenzy. You didn’t think it could be compared to death, not really. You felt distinctly alive for a few seconds of shivering, wet heat.

Until it ended, abruptly dropping you back in the middle of an unfathomable predicament.

Death hummed as he stopped, letting you wilt back onto the ground, trembling and hot. “I prefer a fight, but-” Without much ceremony and a disgustingly wet shlick, Death pulled the weapon out of your pussy. “You put on quite the show, gatita. This is going to be good.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, drawing your legs in, wincing at the feeling. Some part of you still rejected what was happening, what he was capable of doing. Of course that got a little harder to believe when he pushed his pants down. Was it flattering that a monster would be turned on by torturing you? You wanted to think that it couldn’t be, that you weren’t that depraved, but the part of your deepest self that stirred in reaction to the sight frightened you. It seemed that the human shape and build of his body carried over to his primary sex characteristics. It was sick that the revelation should be relieving, but at least you would be spared the particular grotesque indignity of inhuman genitalia. Maybe if you shut your eyes, if you blocked it all out, you could pretend that it was just a man raping you.

Because that was so much better.

You weren’t even aware that you were trying to crawl away until he clicked his tongue, grabbing your waist to pull you back into place. The pads on his fingers were so rough, claws threatening to rip the sensitive flesh. He licked his lips with wolfish excitement. Fur brushed your bare skin. There was no way out of this, to escape el lobo feroz. Not mentally, not physically.

You pressed your thighs together as tightly as you could, ignoring how slick they were.

“It’s too late for that,” he said, easily prying them apart. Fur brushed against your skin, but you were more concerned with the sight of his cock as it bobbed up before settling against your abdomen.

Heavy. That was your first thought, right before the comparison between your body and his cock really settled in your feverish brain. The head alone was thick enough that you couldn’t fathom it getting past your entrance, let alone that you’d be able to take the rest.

“No, no, no, you-you can’t do this,” you said, staring at his dick with a crawling sense of fear that had nothing to do with his inhumanity—in all regards—and everything to do with the size. “It won’t fit.”

“You can accommodate new life,” he said, a hand going under his cock to press against your abdomen, right above your womb. “Let alone Death. You’ll be fine.” He said it like a joke, like it was amusing. He was sick. You were sick. This was…

When he moved, the slap of his dick on your abdomen was audible, punctuating a joke that wasn’t funny to begin with. Death clearly wasn’t concerned as he rearranged you, pushing your legs up and apart until your thighs screamed, his body bearing down against you for leverage. The unyielding press of his cock between your legs made you panic, but he had you utterly pinned. You couldn’t do anything other than feel it slide across the sensitive flesh, settling right against your entrance. You couldn’t do anything to stop this. Death grunted as he readjusted you, claws digging fresh lines into your flesh, and began to rock his hips forward. When you yelped, bucking up against him, the sharp points broke skin. It would be easy for him to rip you up with nothing more than those claws.

“Quédate quieto,” he growled. You didn’t need to understand to be still.

So close like this, you realized that you could smell him. Not the stench of a dog, of wet fur or a poorly maintained pelt. Not the scent of a man either, familiar and human. Death smelled like a cool summer night, and torrential rain, and a river’s violent rapids, and acrid smoke, and the dry dust of an old road. Although it wasn’t entirely unpleasant in the way you might have expected of a wolf man, it made your stomach churn, doing nothing to help you relax as he continued to press the thick head of his cock against your pussy.

For a moment, you thought that it really was impossible, that you would be spared. That single second of relief was all it took for the head to pop past the initial barrier of muscle. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling. Surprise, maybe. Your legs were spread wide enough to mitigate some of the dragging pain as he forced himself a little deeper, just past the ridge. Death made a sound low in his chest, but all you could manage was stiff, cold shock. Surprise at how surreal it all was. But reality marched on all the same, with or without your comprehension. You weren’t sure what you expected it to feel like, but you would have been wrong anyway. Stretching, aching, too much, too much, too-

Grunting, he rolled his hips, pulling back just enough before thrusting deeper. Little by little, letting you adjust and relax ever so slightly before pulling back to go further. You whined each time, back arching, your pussy tightening around him. It was probably a protective measure, trying to keep him out, but it hurt, pulling a rumbly growl out of his throat, his hips pushing forward despite the painful resistance.

“No more,” you got out, the words tight, pained.

Muttering something under his breath, Death leaned back to let drool drip from his long tongue. It landed heavily where the two of you were joined, splatting with an unattractive slap onto the place where you were joined, onto your swollen clit. He laughed at your girlish yelp of surprise.

You let your head fall back, your hands covering your face. They smelled like dirt and blood. At least the extra lubrication helped, and you knew your body was responding to this. Whether to protect itself or out of some truly disturbing reciprocation, your pussy was soaking his cock, making way for him as he rolled his hips back and forth.

Deeper, further. You were going to split apart.

“Stop, please,” you finally broke enough to beg, pressing against his stomach, ignoring the sickening feeling of fur beneath your hand. You were almost surprised when Death stopped, huffing hard. Worse, you were grateful.

“Too much, gatita? And you were doing so well.”

A pathetic little whine tore from your throat when you looked down at the remaining few inches of cock between your straining pussy lips and his grotesque inhuman body, despairing at the sight. “I can’t,” you whimpered. “No more.”

Death growled in frustration, claws digging painfully into your skin as he shifted back and forth a few times, trying to ease himself deeper. You could see the shadow of distension shifting across your abdomen as he did, proof of how deep inside of you he already was. But no matter how he rolled his hips, or twisted you around, there was no more room.

“Stop,” you said, the word getting caught in your swollen throat, your body desperately straining to get away for fear that he’d just force it in.

Death stilled, exhaling hard to steady himself. It sounded like a growl. Your pussy unintentionally clenched hard around him at the noise. It hurt, the muscles unable to adjust to his size. The reaction had his breath catching, and that became a throaty laugh.

“Fine,” he said, finally dragging his hips back. It was what you wanted, but it still hurt, the stretch worsened by the way your pussy squeezed and pulsed around his length. Death stopped when only the head remained inside of you. “You just need to be broken in. That’s fine.”

You looked, stricken, from the dizzying sight of his cock—now, at least partially, glistening with your own arousal—to the sickening expression of manic glee he wore. How could a canine face express such viscerally human emotions?

And then, in the back of your empty, dizzy head—why was this happening?

“No more,” you begged, squeezing your eyes shut, your pussy trying to push him out despite the discomfort of it. Claws ripped into your skin when his grip had to tighten to keep you in place, his hips chasing yours as you tried so desperately to escape. It hurt all over again. Maybe not as bad, but now you knew what to anticipate.

“It's better like this.” He stopped when he was as deep as he could go and you were grateful that he didn’t push it further, grateful that he was taking it slow. The stretching, pinching ache wasn’t any better, but it wasn’t worse either. “What is this… Two? Three inches?” You looked down, realizing that he was referring to how much of his cock couldn’t fit inside of you. It had to be more than that, although you were stuck on the sight of your pussy stretched around him. “By the end of the night, there won’t be anything keeping us apart. That’ll be… poetic, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t fair that his voice should be that of a man, should be low and dripping with a villain’s dangerous charisma. All you could do was groan weakly, your breathing shallow. Despite what he said, there was nothing poetic to the sound of it. Slick, filthy, disgustingly wet. Every thrust punched a sharp noise out of you, although most of them were nothing more than heavy breaths. Death wasn’t very quiet either, making noises that fluctuated seamlessly between that of a man and that of a beast.

“Hurts,” you whimpered in protest, willing him to slow down. He didn’t.

“Good.”

The single word, the cruelty of it and the accompanying set of a harsher pace, hurt in more ways than the physical. You couldn’t help but wail in despair, writhing with pain you couldn’t escape, unable to get away as he fucked you. Deeper and deeper, forcing you to stretch out to accommodate him.

“You like the pain, right?” Death asked mockingly, his voice low enough to nearly get missed beneath the filthy squelch of each thrust. And all you could do was whimper. Did you like the pain? No, but there was a perverse satisfaction of justified destruction. You had no idea how he knew that.

“I don’t,” you said, needing to reject him. To reject all of this because otherwise you were afraid it would end like before, that you would give in. That you’d enjoy this. But it was too late. You couldn’t help your hips from twitching of their own volition, and a particularly sharp thrust pulled a surprised gasp from your open mouth.

“Buena gatita,” he said in a low voice, half growl. The sound, the language, the speaker, none of it mattered because your body knew praise, and the kind that came with cruelty was what you craved in the sickest part of your brain. “Muy buena.” Your cunt fluttered weakly around him, your hips rolling upward to meet his next thrust. It hurt, and it felt good.

As soon as you admitted that to yourself in any way, you were lost. A few more thrusts and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. There wasn’t a single place within you that wasn’t full of him, not in your head or your pussy or your chest. Consumed entirely by Death.

Gods help you, you could hear the fresh wave of wet arousal your body provided with that awful thought, so eager to submit to his dominion. As if sensing that, he stilled, his cock buried deep into you. Your eyes opened unintentionally, confused by the sudden break.

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Death said as a way of explanation, self satisfied. You followed his eyes, looking at where the two of you were joined. There was nothing between, his pelvis flush between your legs, the fur matting with how wet everything was. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His hips shifted and you could see the bump of distension, more pronounced now. “Like I said—poetic. All you’ve done for years is tease me and now-” He laughed. “Now you’re mine.”

Death pulled back slowly, letting you see how much of his cock he’d forced your body to accept. It looked about as impossible as it felt, you couldn’t really comprehend it on any level other than the most base—sickening satisfaction. Ensuring you were still watching, his hips snapped forward. Once, twice, three times, making sure each thrust was solid and steady, filling you up entirely, the thick head of his cock brutalizing your cunt in a way no human man ever could. The battering against your cervix hurt in a profound, electric way, a way nobody had ever managed to hurt you.

And you took it. Your mouth open dumbly, your head tipping back into the dirt, your body rolling with each movement.

Even suffering such intimate, awful pain, you couldn’t deny your feeling of pleasure. Sublime friction, pressure in every place you needed it. And, to a dreadful degree, Death seemed to be aware of your reactions. Aware enough, at least, to take note when you couldn’t help but moan aloud, to exploit the angle that had you seeing stars. He grabbed you off the ground, forcing you to throw your arms around his neck. Like that, you were even more at his mercy. Full enough to split, you could understand the indulgence of size, of craving excess. Beautiful. Your boiling brain pulled that word out from its scattered nothingness, and it was beautiful. Repulsive, disturbing, grotesque, and beautiful.

“That’s right,” Death practically purred into your ear. “Look at how well you take it, you’d think you were made for this.”

“Oh, gods, oh—please, I can’t, I…” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, it was too late from the second he praised you, sending you spiraling, coming hard, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard it hurt, your fingers pulling hard at the fur on his neck. Death laughed breathlessly, not slowing down for even a second. You didn’t care. If it hurt, it felt good, an endless feedback loop of madness.

Holding so close to him, you were more aware than ever of how terrifyingly powerful his body was. He could easily destroy you if he wanted.

This was Death at his gentlest.

Dizzy, reeling, hardly able to scrape together any coherent thought beyond that, all you felt at the realization was the vague veil of fear. Letting yourself get fucked by the big bad wolf. Coming on his cock, moaning like a whore for a being that shouldn’t exist in the middle of the woods beneath a full moon.

His hips stuttered then, a groan catching on a growl in his chest.

“Delicious,” he said. “Your fear, I could just…” Death didn’t finish that thought, or maybe you couldn’t hear it as his thrusts became well and truly punishing. Seeking his end like a man would. That was what you expected, in a distant way, but you didn’t expect that a mystical—mythical?—creature would ejaculate, only that you’d had enough encounters with men to know you shouldn’t let it happen. Not inside. Never inside, that was way too dangerous.

“Nn-no-”

He didn’t listen. You couldn’t escape, and you stopped caring after a moment because the heavy, carnal weight of him coming inside of you was enough to make you squeal, your pussy squeezing his cock, your body straining in an arch against his. You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just a continuation of the onslaught of stimulation that your brain couldn’t make rational sense of, but there was a sort of lunatic’s bliss in the feeling, in the agonizingly hellish ecstasy of pleasure. Of complete and utter excess. You could feel the rumbling vibrations of his growl, it entwined with the human groans. The two shouldn’t have suited one another, but your broken mind accepted both gleefully, losing yourself in the sound.

After a few jerky, halting movements, Death released you.

He was slow to pull out, which was probably a mercy. Even softening, his cock was painfully big, you couldn’t hold back your pained whimper when he pulled out. The absence was immediate, cold, and hollow. You wilted when he let you fall limp onto the ground, defeated. Deflated. Breathing as if you’d run a marathon, it was all you could do to keep it together, the gravity of all that happened setting in.

Something landed on your naked, sweaty body. Scared, you opened your eyes. But it was fabric. A second passed before you realized it was your red cloak. The one you left behind to escape from him before. It felt like a lifetime ago. You gratefully used it to cover your nudity, glad for the moment to catch your breath with some dignity.

“Ah, that was good,” Death said, satisfied, rolling his neck and shoulders. He’d already fixed his pants and retrieved his weapons. “The fun’s over now. For you, at least.”

“I don’t know… how to get back to the trail…” you said, wincing as you sat up and looked around. His cum dripped out of your gaping, sore pussy, sticky on your thighs. Vaguely, you wondered what sort of monsters would come from such a coupling, but you disregarded that thought just as quickly. If he was done, you needed to get away. Then again, you weren’t even sure if you could walk.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Death’s less than friendly tone rolled over you like ice water. Slowly looking over at him, you exhaled a big, shuddery lungful of cool night air. He stood high above you, his looming figure blotting out the moon. Right then, he looked no different than he had all those years ago. Brilliant red eyes, gray fur, silver sickles. The big bad wolf in all his glory.

“What?”

Those bright red eyes held a different sort of intensity than before. Swirling, passionate madness without any of the ravenous hunger. “You know, I’ve been watching you ever since that night. Every time you narrowly escape death, and every time you get other people killed. But you know that, you’ve seen me. That’s why you run, thinking you can escape the inevitable. For whatever reason—luck, fate, the blessing of those gods you claim to believe in—your life has been spared over and over. And yet, you do nothing with it.”

There was malice in those words, a visceral sort of disgust that reflected what you so often felt for yourself. You considered trying to stand up, trying to run again. Fear thundered in your chest, urged you to escape as you always did. But, honestly, you didn’t think your legs could support your weight. No. You couldn’t run. You never had really managed to escape him anyway.

“So, I thought, why does it matter if you die now or later—your life has no meaning. If I finish it now, you won’t be able to keep teasing me, and we’ll both have some peace.”

“I don’t want to die,” you said, your voice hushed to hide the tears.

Death looked down at you, and you wondered if it was disgust or pity you saw on his inhuman face. But then you realized, it was neither. His jewel bright eyes gleamed with glee, passion of a type you couldn’t understand, that belonged to something beyond the realm of what you could possibly comprehend. A living nightmare.

“Your fear,” Death said, inhaling deeply as he took a step forward, his sickles in hand, “has the most intoxicating smell. I might even miss it.”

#death puss in boots #death x reader #death the wolf #not sfw #my writing #tw.noncon

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writingsofwesteros · 1 year

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Cregan stark imagine pure fluff where you rhaenerys sister and marry to cregan and you’re know around the seven kingdoms to always being pregnant you have around 5 children already and the ones coming soon filled with dragon and wolf blood. Nobody dares to attack the targeryans as they know they have the wolfs with them as well as their dragons

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

“It seems your sister is with child.” The voice of Corlys moved into the war room of Dragonstone. His wife by his side. “Again..” Daemon’s voice joined the conversation as he lounged onto the chair; a book on his lap. A couple of chuckles were his response. It was no secret that the Targaryen Princess had many children.

“How many is that now?” Rhaenyra couldn’t help but ask. The letters were few and far between from her and Winterfell. Her sons’ ears moved as they heard about their aunt they wanted to learn more about. “This will be her sixth, Princess.” Corlys hummed as he moved to sit down. “Fuck.” Daemon muttered.

Rhaenyra chuckled as she took the letter being passed to her. “She always wanted a big family.” She whispered mostly to herself. A soft smile tugged on her lips as she thought of her darling sister. Daemon’s soft eyes followed. As much as his talk teased his niece; he was glad it had been a happy match.

He had worried about her being sent somewhere so cold. It seemed you had only blossomed. “She has invited us over.” Rhaenyra’s voice came over the room once more; she could hardly conceal her excitement. “Oh, can we go mother, please?” Luke began to babble now; his eyes so excited.

“It is very cold, my sweet and a long journey even with dragons.” Rhaenyra whispered; her fingers moving through her son’s curls. “It might be good, Princess. To see your sister again and you could rest there.” Rhaenys hummed and watched as the heir to the throne gently moved her hand over her stomach.

“It might be a good idea.” Daemon added and placed the book to one side as he slowly moved towards her. Rhaenyra leaned into his chest with her mind already made up.

“I believe we have much to prepare.” You whispered into Cregan’s ear. The furs covering you both even as the fire crackled in the distance. His larger hand moved to your stomach that had a small bump now. “They are coming to visit?” Your husband hummed; his eyes still shut as he rested.

You nodded your head as your hand slowly moved over his face; your fingers stroking his cheek. Gods, he was so handsome, you thought to yourself as those bright locks of yours fell down from the intricate braids. “We should leave the bed.” You giggled as the sun was slowly moving up now.

He only gumbled and kept you impossibly closer. “Cregan.” You whispered into his ear once more. Your soft lips moving over his neck as you began to pepper his face; your noses brushing together. The peaceful moment did not last long; it never did as the pitter patter of many feet began to move in.

“Mama…she pulled my hair..” The calls of their children easily echoed around the room now as Cregan groaned; hiding into the pillow. You only giggled and kept the covers up; hiding your bare bodies. “What are you all doing up?” You whispered; a soft smile coming over your face as three out of your five children came in. Your only two girls and a boy.

“She pulled my hair.” Your youngest pouted once more whilst beginning to crawl onto the bed. “I did not.” You only blinked; knowing that they probably both pulled each other's hair. “This is your fault.” A faux gasp escaped him before chuckles sounded out. His eyes began to flutter open now.

“Your children are here.” You hummed and gracefully pulled a fur cover with yourself and wrapped it around your body. “Oh, my children..” He teased you back much to the delight of your youngest ones. “I shall go and see where the rest of them are.” You hummed over your shoulder and watched happily as they moved into your husband’s sides. Their laziness all came from him.

“I shall see to the dragons.” You spoke over the changing area. Cregan only hummed and you rolled your eyes. The soft, fur covered white dress easily moved over your body even with the growing bump. You placed your bright locks in a loose braid down your back as you moved from the changing area.

Cregan was now awake and was sat up. Their conversations were hushed as you stepped closer. His hand reached for yours without breaking his moment with the children, which you adored. You leaned in and passionately captured his soft lips. “I love you.” He whispered into your ear.

“Are you eating with us tonight?” You gently asked; your fingers moving through your daughter’s hair. Usually your husband hunted with the other Northern Lords; proving for his family and theirs. “I will.” Cregan hummed; pressing a soft kiss to your jaw before you gracefully moved from the room; your hand on your stomach.

“Princess..” Your sworn shield bowed as you moved into the corridor. “Morning, do you know where my sons are?”

“They are training, my Princess.” You nodded as he replied and you began to move through the corridors. Of course they were, you thought to yourself. A soft smile coming over your face as you thought of your oldest. Your first children; two delightful twins that were so much like their father.

The sounds of swords smashing together came over you as your smile only widened. “Should you not be asleep?” You hummed; walking over the viewing platform. Snow is already covering it and the floor below where your two boys fought. “No, mother..” Your oldest called up to you; getting hit in the process.

You moved your hand over your lips to hide the giggle coming over you. You watched as they chased each other around the courtyard whilst you moved gracefully down the stairs. Little children of the smaller Lords and Ladies came running over to you as always and you began to speak with them.

“Can we see the dragons?” One of the little girls asked and you could only giggle. “In a little while, sweet one. They must be sleeping.” You hummed. Your fingers moved over her locks for a moment before your sons were calling you once more. They were quite greedy for your attention. Something else they got from their father.

#cregan stark x reader #request

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brionbroadway · 1 year

Text

It’s Ylfa who finds him.

She sits beside Gerard, hands in front of her on the floor, back in her wolf-form and back to herself. “Where is the Princess Elody?” she asks.

Gerard sighs, but sensing Ylfa flinch beside him, he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. “She needed a moment to herself.”

“But just a moment, right? She’s coming back?”

Gerard shifts his head to look at Ylfa, and notices the shift in her as well. She is no longer a meddling preteen, ready to give him a makeover and plan a grand gesture based on a limited understanding of love. In fact, Gerard wonders if that was ever a fair assessment. Ylfa knows love, perhaps better than Gerard ever has, and understands the power of its loss. He sees the same thing in her eyes that he saw in Elody’s when she spoke of finding his body—not sadness, exactly, but an emptiness that a preteen should still be too optimistic to feel.

“It’s not fair, Gerard,” she says, quiet, and Gerard realizes too late that he was too slow to respond. “No one came looking for you, but you went looking for Elody, and you’re still going to be alone. I can fight Death for you, but I can’t fight this.”

“First of all,” Gerard says, speaking faster than his thoughts to not give Ylfa’s the chance to fill in the blanks. “I am not alone. I would not choose anyone else to travel and fight alongside—though, you need to know that you are not responsible for fighting anything for me. You are a protector, much like Elody.”

“I’m like the princess?”

“Most certainly, and while that’s admirable, it’s also too much weight to put on your shoulders. Strong as they are.”

Ylfa flexes, and Gerard laughs, relieved. “The truth is,” he continues. “I left Elody long before she left me. We’d sit together the way you and I are sitting now, but we would not talk the way we’re talking now. And that was my fault.”

“But she’s still your family,” Ylfa says. “You just made a mistake.”

Gerard understands what’s behind this conversation now, and wishes he’d recognized it the moment Ylfa sat down. Elody would have. “When you marry someone,” Gerard says. “You make vows to each other; it’s a partnership. I didn’t make a mistake; I made decisions that broke the promises I’d made to Elody. That is my fault.”

“When you have a child,” Gerard continues, before Ylfa can interrupt. “Of course, I have not had one, but as I understand it—you make a commitment to them. You love them unconditionally, no matter what mistakes or decisions they make. If a parent does not fulfill that, that is not the child’s fault.”

“Gerard, I’m sorry if this is disrespectful, but I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Honestly Red, I don’t know if I do either. That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Not for the first time, Gerard is aware of his role as an adult, despite not having the chance to properly grow into one. “Or,” he says. “How about this? I know that I am not your mother or father, or your grandmother, but as long as I am alive, I promise that we can sit and talk like this. And if we end up in different stories, I’ll look for you. You will always have a home with me, even if it’s just a bonfire in the woods.”

“I can light a match for us.”

“I know that you can.”

Gerard extends his webbed equivalent of a pinky finger, and Ylfa wraps a claw around it.

#d20 #dimension 20 #neverafter #prince gerard of greenleigh #ylfa snorgelsson #d20 fic #drabbles #dropout tv #prince gerard #brian murphy #emily axford #awkward father figure gerard is important to me

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

La Petite Mort - C'est Comme Ça

Summary: The repercussions of RJ's return hit hard

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Language

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by boygenius, specifically Phoebe Bridgers because she has ruined me. You asked for angst. Remember YOU ASKED FOR THIS. There's a little TLOU2 easter egg in there for you fellow Ellie lovers. I have to say, I can't believe this story is the result of an ask about a girl getting head for the first time...writing is weird.

LPM - Part I LPM - Part II LPM Part IV LPM Part V LPM Part VI

The tension in the air is palpable. You can feel the moment strung taught, a high wire of social choreography forcing you to tiptoe carefully. Truth be told, it was your own fault. You were the one fucking RJs girlfriend. And you were the one flirting with Maxine. You’d made your bed, but you were determined not to sleep in it.

You motion to the hay bales behind Maxine, “Ma’am if you don’t mind?”

She turns, her eyebrows raising as she realizes she’s in your way, and slides over to the edge of the tailgate. Into the exact spot Lorraine had just vacated. The significance of the moment is not lost on you, but you brush it off and reach for the hay. You pull it down and lug it into the barn, breaking a sweat that has little to do with exertion. A wolf whistle rips out from behind you, and you drop the hay and turn to find the source. A man in aviators and a white cowboy hat is leaning against the truck next to Maxine, a toothpick rolling around his lips.

As you approach, he slides his sunglasses down his nose to look at you, “Howdy darlin,” he says, his voice thick with amusement.

You raise an eyebrow at him, reaching for the next bale, and nod in greeting. Something about him screams con artist, and you immediately decide you don’t like him. Maxine giggles and pulls at his shirt sleeve, swinging her legs. You’re acutely aware of Lorraine in your peripheral, glancing over at the interaction as RJ talks at her, his hands waving around excitedly.

The con man pulls the toothpick from his mouth and clears his throat, “Names Wayne,” he says, his unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the sun, “You ever thought about bein in movies?”

You squint at him, your hands wrapped in the rope keeping the hay bound and shake your head, “No, actin ain’t exactly my strong suit.”

Maxine snickers, and a devilish grin spreads across Wayne’s face, “That’s okay. Actin is not high on the priority list for my movies.”

Your eyebrows fly up your face as you realize the implication. In all the fuss, you had forgotten the type of movie RJ had been filming with them. The realization comes with the knowledge of who Maxine must be, and suddenly her flirting makes sense. You’re flattered, really, at the proposition, but you’re also mortified.

An involuntary laugh slips out of you, bubbling up from your belly through your chest. You heave the hay off the truck and shake your head, “I respect what y’all do, but I’ll stick to what I got goin on, thank you.”

Wayne puts his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. I’d be a fool not to try though, especially since Maxine here has been eyein you. Jackson and Bobby-Lynne over there would probably agree that you’d be a welcome addition, but suit yourself,” he points to the two making out against the van.

You look in their direction and laugh again, seeing them dry humping each other, “I think they have their hands full as it is,” you say and turn toward the barn.

As you make your way back out, squinting in the sun, RJ’s raised voice catches your attention.

“I’ve been gone for a week Lorraine. You can’t spend one night with me?”

You note the change in his tone, dropping her nickname to say her full name in irritation. She mumbles something too quiet to hear, and seeing her cower in front of him makes your blood boil. She always made herself small for him, careful to stay out of the way and quiet. She was a quiet person by nature, but even more so in his presence. Watching her with him is like seeing your favorite flower wither, her beauty shriveling in his wake. You ball your fists and clench your jaw.

“Aaaah, you got a thing for brunettes, huh?” Wayne’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You frown and shake your head, “What?”

He gestures toward Lorraine with his head, “I don’t blame ya, RJ caught a fish way too big for his reel there.”

You scowl at him, fighting the urge to knock his lights out. How dare he even look her way, much less speak about her. Your composure is rattled, and the conversation between RJ and Lorraine is growing more agitated by the minute. You turn back to them, ready to start a brawl, but you’re halted by a look from Lorraine. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye and shakes her head, asking you to stay out of it. You grit your teeth, feeling wild and out of control.

“Baby let’s go, I’m so tired of farms,” Maxine whines, blinking up at Wayne.

You feel like you’re an extra in a movie that’s in the wrong shot. Stranded between keeping up appearances and doing what you really want to do. Which is to sweep Lorraine off her feet and kick RJ in the teeth. Deep down, there’s resentment building toward her too, but you’re not ready to deal with it. The bed you were trying not to sleep in was pulling back its blankets, welcoming you to the mess you’d made.

When Maxine brushes past you to return to the van, she runs her fingers from your shoulder down your arm and winks at you, blowing you a kiss as she walks backward. You make eye contact with Lorraine, and it’s like the whole scene blurs around you. The pornstars chattering in the background, RJ having his meltdown to the side, and the two of you, front and center. An unspoken moment passes between you, and you can feel the delicate balance shatter around you. It hurts you more than you have words to describe. If that moment hurts, it has nothing on what you feel when she turns around and climbs into the van with RJ.

——

One of your favorite things about Mr. Day is his ability to work in comfortable silence. He doesn’t press you for small talk or waste time preaching to you. He’s a quiet, peaceful man, and you can see Lorraine’s got it honest. When he does speak, he says what he means, and that’s that.

The two of you had saddled up and ridden over an hour to his back pasture to repair the fencing that had been neglected over the season. There were several feet of fence that needed replacing, and it was laborious work. The two of you drudged along with the chore in silence, occasionally grunting or grumbling when the wires pierced through your gloves and cut your skin. It came as a shock to you when he left his post and came over to yours, leaning against the wood, clearly wanting to talk.

You wipe your cheek with the back of your glove, pushing your hat back off your brow, and squint at him, “How you doin sir, comin along alright down there?”

He sighs, his black and silver mustache rustling with his breath, “I’m gettin too old for this mess y/n.”

You chuckle, “That’s what you have me for. I can finish this up if you want to head in.”

“What do you think of that boy, RJ?”

You jerk your head back, the wire in your hand sinking into the skin of your palm, making you wince. You gulp, unsure of how to answer.

“How do you mean?” You ask, willing your voice not to waver.

He tilts his head at you, his expression so shockingly similar to one Lorraine would make it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“I mean, what do you think of him?”

He doesn’t give you any further context, his tone is neutral and steady.

“I think,” you pause a moment, “I think he’s fine.”

Mr. Day watches you for a moment, clearly evaluating you. “Try that again, and be honest.”

You set your pliers down on the fence post and pull your gloves off, your palm stinging from the fresh cut there. This man has known you since you were a child, and you should have known better than to try to sugarcoat your opinion in front of him.

“I think he’s a pretentious asshole. If you’ll pardon my French.”

When he smiles at you, Lorraine is there again, in the crinkle of his dark eyes and the curve of his mustache hidden mouth.

“That’s more like it.”

He pushes off the fence and hobbles over to his horse, pulling two warm PBRs from his saddle bag. He hands you one as he leans back up against the fence and cracks his open, gulping it and eyeing you. You open yours and swig, relaxing your posture and turning to lean back with him. His presence is calming, and you feel grounded for the first time since you’d seen the van pull into the ranch driveway.

“I just don’t know what she sees in him,” you tell him, your honesty shocking you.

He takes another drink, “I was hoping you’d tell me. Seems like you know Raine better than most, I’d say.”

The knowledge that he’d almost caught you having sex with his daughter several times now makes you hesitant to reply. You can’t know if he knows, but from his tone and the way he’s eyeing you, you’re beginning to think he does. It’s surprising to you that he doesn’t seem to be upset about it if he does know. You proceed under the assumption that he is ignorant of your situation, thinking it the safer option.

“I couldn’t tell you. Guess you could ask her.”

He grunts, “I could, but Mrs. Day would have my head. She says I ought to leave Raine be. She’s an adult and all.”

You hum, drink your beer. He grunts and drinks his. You both stare off into the distance, watching the high grass rustle in the gentle afternoon breeze. You find your mind wandering, thinking about where Lorraine might be now and what she’s doing. You wonder if RJ ever takes her out for ice cream and if he notices the way she closes her eyes when she eats it, or how she taps her fingers against the cone in quiet excitement. The thought makes you feel sick, leading from the ice cream to what they’d do in private. His hands where yours had been, unaware of the now faded marks you’d left there.

You chug the can and crush it, forgetting you were with company. You’re not lucky enough to have escaped his notice, and he watches you with careful eyes. You’re flooded with shame at your own anger and the sadness that weighs in your bones. You had no right to be upset, but that didn’t make the sting any less painful.

Mr. Day sighs, the lines on his face almost sorrowful as he watches you, “Love is a pretty strange thing. Wilder than a feral mustang, and even harder to control.”

You don’t answer, his words settling over you. You think he must be referring to his daughter, but you get the tiniest notion that he’s not talking about her and RJ anymore. Unwilling to open Pandora’s box, you nod silently and pull your gloves back on, dropping the crushed can at your feet and returning to your work. He thumps you on the back affectionately and finishes his beer.

“Well, would you look at that,” Mr. Day grumbles, “Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.”

You frown in confusion, still twisting the wire around the post. You clip the end and turn, following his gaze to a dirt cloud in the distance. The Day’s truck is rambling down the dirt cut toward you, kicking up dust behind it. It must be Lorraine because in all the years you’d worked for them, Mrs. Day had never graced you with her presence further than her backyard. Your stomach flips in excitement, and it makes you roll your eyes at yourself. Even in the depths of heartbreak, your body still reacted to the mere idea of her being near. Another beer is pushed into your hands, and you take it eagerly, knowing you’d need it to keep your cool as the truck nears and you see RJ in the passenger seat.

You exchange a look with Mr. Day and pop the can open. Lorraine parks the truck and slides out, shooting you a shy smile.

She beams at Mr. Day, “Hey Daddy! Momma told me to come out here and pick you up.”

He grunts, but you can see the smile behind his mustache, “She gonna come out here and patch this fence then?”

“I can help!” RJ chirps, rounding the truck, a small camera in his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment as the three of you stare at him in disbelief. You look at his soft hands and smirk, knowing full well, he was incapable of doing manual labor. You don’t miss the chastising look Lorraine shoots you.

“You gonna do that with a camera in your hand?” Mr. Day asks him, not unkindly, but his tone isn’t warm either.

RJs steps stutter as he looks down at the camera. He appears to be afraid to part with it and hangs it around his neck with the lanyard. He puts his hands up to show they’re free and smiles. Your lip curls involuntarily, his mere presence putting you in a bad mood. You decide it’s best to keep your mouth shut because if you speak, you’re going to say something that will upset Lorraine. Instead, you take a few healthy gulps of your beer, the warm liquid fizzling in your stomach and calming you.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea RJ,” Lorraine says, “Mending fence ain’t easy.”

He scoffs, his spine straightening. He may as well beat on his chest with machismo. He looks so self-assured. “I can do it Lorraine.”

Lorraine shrinks, nodding. She avoids your pointed gaze, keeping her eyes trained on her shoes. You tilt your head, feeling surly knowing you can’t do anything to help her without making the situation worse. Then an idea springs forth in your mind, making you smirk. You pull your gloves off, leveling RJ with a challenging stare.

“Here you go RJ, take my spot. I need a break anyway.” You hold the gloves and pliers out to him, daring him to refuse.

You can see the indecision warring in his eyes, not expecting you to call his apparent bluff. You shake the gloves at him with impatience. If he wants a masculine display, you’re going to allow him to try. Lorraine raises an eyebrow at you, warning you to tread lightly. You find that you no longer care if you upset her at the moment. You flash her a brilliant smile as RJ takes the tools from your hands.

Mr. Day nods and finishes off his beer, “Come here then boy, let me show you how to tie the lines.”

You lean your back against the grill of the truck and cross your feet, sipping your warm beer and waiting for the inevitable. Lorraine slides over next to you, her arm brushing yours. You try to ignore the way it makes your stomach cartwheel. As upset as you were with her, something in you enjoys the sensation of your forbidden, secret intimacy.

She leans her head toward you, whispering, “You know this is not gonna end well y/n.”

You snort, tip the beer can to your lips, “Whatever makes you say that, Lorraine?”

She turns her head up to stare daggers at you, but you keep your eyes trained on RJ and Mr. Day. She doesn’t push the conversation and looks toward the fence again.

It takes all of five minutes for RJ to hurt himself. You sneer, hearing him cry out over the wire in his palm. Mr. Day shakes his head at him and looks to his daughter for support. Lorraine pushes herself off the truck, quickly making her way to fuss over RJs bleeding palm.

He brushes her off, “Don’t touch it! I don’t need your help. Just get me a bandage.”

She jerks back, startled by his harsh tone. You step forward, ready to stand between them if he says anything else. Luckily her father takes the lead in handling the outburst.

“Young man, you’d do well not to speak to my daughter like that. Get in the truck, I’ll drive you back to the house for a band-aid.”

RJ glances back and forth between him and Lorraine, fear apparent on his face, “Oh no sir, Raine can drive me, can’t you baby?”

She opens her mouth to answer, but she’s interrupted by her dad, “I said get in the truck boy. Rainey, ride Shimmer back to the barn. Give her a good gallop before she sees it, though, don’t want her goin barn sour like old CB over here.”

“Hey!” You yelp, “My son is not barn sour!”

Mr. Day chuckles, “Kick him in gear then and see who gets back faster. You can finish the fence tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, thinking he’s made this decision on purpose. He’s setting you up for an hour alone with Lorraine, and it’s transparent to you. The love you have for him grows even further in that moment.

The truck rolls out of sight while you finish packing up your tools, Lorraine adjusting her father's stirrups to fit her legs. You fill up your saddlebags and buckle them closed, patting CB on his rump affectionately. You turn your head to watch Lorraine, her hands on her hips, trying to work out how to climb on top of Shimmer without a step stool. You lean your shoulder against CB, crossing your arms, content to watch her struggle until she asks for help. Shimmer is at least three hands taller than Lorraine’s quarter horse, so she’s slightly out of her depth. You stifle your laughter as you watch her try to hike her leg high enough to get her toes in the stirrup and fail. She turns and glares at you, her pride too large to ask you for help yet.

After a few more minutes, you can’t take watching her struggle any longer. You saunter over to her and kneel down, silently offering your bent leg as a step stool. She huffs, hesitates a moment, and steps on you to swing her leg over Shimmer’s back.

“Thank you,” she grumbles, gathering the reins in her hand.

You tip your hat at her and stand, “My pleasure ma’am.”

She pulls the reins, so Shimmer turns and smacks you with her head, stomping in irritation at the command. You stumble backward, laughing, and jog back to CB, hopping up into your saddle with ease.

The ride back is anything but relaxing. Lorraine is quiet, introspective. You peek over at her every few minutes, trying to find a way to start the conversation you desperately need to have. A conversation a part of you does not want to have because it requires a terrifying amount of vulnerability.

“So,” you start, leaving the word hanging in hopes she picks up where you left off. She doesn’t.

“So, how…how was your night?” You don’t really want to know the answer to this question, the possibility of her giving you an answer that will gut you being very high.

She gives you an impassive glance, “Just ask me what you want to ask me.”

You screw your face up, the accusation hurting your feelings, “I asked you what I wanted to ask you.”

“No, you didn’t.” She turns her head to watch you, her body gently rocking with Shimmer’s slow steps.

You clench your jaw and purse your lips, “Did you…did you-“

“No,” she interrupts, relieving you of asking the question that was making you feel like you were sinking.

You visibly relax, and you see her smile from the corner of your eye. “Did he-“

“Now that is none of your business,” she stops you.

You frown, then let it slide from your face when you realize you’re being petulant. Just take the win that she did not have sex with him yet. Yet. The word weighs heavy on you.

“What does this mean,” you ask quietly, looking down at your hands, “for us?”

She sighs, “I don’t know yet.”

There it is again. Yet.

You nod in acceptance and keep your eyes trained on the horizon.

——

You decide to camp by the pond for the night. You didn’t want to feel trapped in your apartment. The walls and ceilings would make you feel caged. You ride CB out to the clearing and pull his saddle and blankets off his back when you get there, letting him roam freely. He never goes too far and knows to come to you if you call. A small campfire burns in a dirt patch, your sleeping bag rolled out next to it.

You settle in and lay on your back, your hands under your head, and get lost in the stars. As much as you’d like to not think of Lorraine, your brain just can’t seem to help itself. It was a small comfort to know she hadn’t slept with RJ the night prior, but every passing day meant you were inevitably closer to the moment when it would happen. You’re unsure of how you should feel about it, but you know that it makes you sick to your stomach. How you’re going to manage this is beyond you. Would she leave him? For you? You snort a cold laugh through your nose, knowing that situation was impossible. You had nothing to offer her that RJ didn’t have. In fact, his being a man made Lorraine’s life easier; being with you would mean a lifelong struggle against adversity. You want to want a simple life for her. You want to want for her to be happy with him. But you don’t. What you really want is simple. You want her.

Trees rustling off to your side draw your attention away from your thoughts, and you sit up on your elbows. Your shotgun is at your side, and you eye it warily. Branches snapping and bushes being pushed aside gain CB’s attention as well. He picks his head up and stares into the brush with you. Your body grows tenser the closer the sound comes, and your fingers inch toward the gun.

Lorraine bursts through the trees on her little quarter horse Pearl, her white coat shining in the moonlight. You breathe a sigh of relief, and CB drops his head back down to chomp at the grass when he realizes it’s his barn companion. She doesn’t remove Pearl’s saddle when she climbs down, telling you she doesn’t intend to stay. She walks around the fire, and you move off your sleeping bag into the grass. You gesture at it, telling her to sit on the fabric.

“Hey,” she says as she drops down next to you.

“Hey.”

“I thought I’d find you out here. CB’s stall was empty.”

“Yeah, I figured we could use some fresh air for the night.”

She nods thoughtfully and reaches her hand out to rest on your leg. You look down at her fingers and fight the urge to lean into her. Your spine goes stiff with the effort of it, and she notices. Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, and her eyes wander everywhere but on you. She’s here for a reason, so you decide to wait for her to tell you what it is. Even if it’s not something you’re prepared to hear.

“So. You like Maxine?” She says, moving her hand from your leg to pull up blades of grass from the dirt.

You laugh, your expression appalled, “What?”

“I saw how you looked at her. Kissed her hand.”

You shrug, feeling guilty, “I don’t like Maxine.”

“Why not?”

Irritation flares up in you, simmering in your veins. How could she ask that? As if she doesn’t know that you don’t like Maxine because you only have eyes for her now. You hold your tongue, not wanting to lash out at her.

“Come on Raine. You know why.”

She turns her head away from you as if that was the last thing she’d wanted to hear. You’re sure it complicates things, having her know you wouldn’t move on so easily.

“RJ is a good man.” Is all she says back, and it stings.

Your anger is building now, becoming unmanageable. “He’s not good to you. He’s a self-righteous prick Lorraine.”

She tips her head back, blinking quickly, “That’s not fair. You don’t know him.”

“I know him well enough.”

“Maybe he’s what I deserve.”

The words hang in the air, and to you, they look a lot like a noose. A hangman’s collar for the relationship built between the two of you.

“You deserve more than him.”

You can see her jaw clench; she’s becoming irritated with you now. “Tell me what I deserve that he doesn’t give me?” Her voice shakes, tears brimming in her eyes when she looks at you.

“Love,” you say gently, “The ability to know you better than he knows himself. Taking the time to learn that you like the smell of jasmine more than roses, that you’re adventurous and kind, that once you gave that homeless woman in Austin your shoes because she didn’t have any.”

She lays down on her back, her hands at her side. She’s silent for a long time, longer than you’d like, but you let it settle over you.

“You never asked me what my dream was about. From the other night.”

You turn your head to look at her, and her expression is so soft, her smile weak, and her eyes watery. It’s like a javelin to the gut.

“I just assumed it was something to do with what we’d done the day prior.”

She sighs, turns her head back toward the stars, “No. No, it wasn’t that, I have real life for that.”

You roll toward her and prop your head up on your hand, “Well, what then? You said you dreamt about me.”

“I did. You were little again, five, maybe six. Like the day we first met. Overalls and pigtails and everything.”

You chuckle in spite of the growing despair crushing your chest, “You remember that?”

She scoffs, “Course I do. You shoved that boy Rance into the sandbox and kicked dirt in his eyes.”

“He called your freckles ugly. He deserved it, I’d do it again.”

She laughs, the sound tinkling from her lips and wrapping itself around you like a snake made of nostalgic joy.

“I remember that too.” She turns her head and looks up at your face, “That was the day I told my Momma I loved you.”

A genuine chuckle escapes you, and you fight the urge to reach for her, “What did she say to that?”

“The same thing she told me today.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, “You told your momma you loved me today?”

She nods, blinks a tear from between her lashes. Your hand slides over the grass toward her, but stops just inches from her elbow.

“What did she say?”

“She said Atlantas was beautiful, and now it’s gone because they built on unstable foundation.”

You blink, taken aback, “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs.

You’re struck with the idea that she does know, but she’s afraid to say. The look in her eyes is so mournful, you feel like you know too. You swallow hard, your throat constricting painfully.

“What happened in your dream?” Your voice cracks, betraying your calm exterior.

She closes her eyes and smiles, “You offered me a candy from your pocket. It was covered in sand, but you were very proud of it.”

You lie back, turning toward the sky again, staying silent.

She continues, “When I took it from you, you grew up, and we were on the ranch. You climbed up on CB’s back, looked at me, and said, ‘I was looking for you,’ and then you turned and rode off into the sunset. I stood there and watched you until I woke up.”

You nod, the grass rustling under your head, “Well, your dreams got that part right. I’m always looking for you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, and her hands press into her stomach. When she opens them, tears brim at the lids but don’t fall.

She sighs and sits up, looks down at you.

“I better get back.” She pushes herself to her feet, and you don’t watch her go as she leaves you there.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #lpm #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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