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#thanks for always body shaming me
statementlou · 6 months
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i get a little anxious because louis ribs i can see but hes very toned and fit so i know he is okay i just love him a lot
seems to me that's just from the way he's stretching up to raise his arms in the air all the time, I believe he's doing great, like you said... and like it's none of our business what he eats or whatever but damn, the pictures of catering for the tour, they are eating WELL!!! but anyway reblogging something for you and agreeing, I love him a lot too, and I am happy to see him looking fit and happy
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comfyymoon · 2 years
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a beautiful scene that occurred today at a relative's place who got me dresses as present
tw: talks of weight. and indirect bodyshaming
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me: oh, it's nice. looks pretty
her: and it does, indeed
me: it's slightly tight, though. you think we can get a bigger size, or maybe alter it a bit?
her: oh, my! you'd look pretty in that dress if you lose some weight. we don't have to do anything. just lose some weight and you'd look nice in that
me: oh.
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streetcornertwoam · 5 days
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think I might be going through a depressive episode AND my birthday is a in a few days...
COINCIDENCE???
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spooksmckitcatagain · 10 days
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I believe that if you rec me to follow someone who's a hardcore fatphobe in f/f spaces I deserve some money as compensation actually 💅🏼
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mercuryislove · 1 month
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most days I don't care that I'm like. ugly. but the last few days I've been wallowing in agony about it
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rowarn · 4 months
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PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1
simon riley / reader
FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3
tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI
cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes
note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!
you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.
part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k
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Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed. 
It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off. 
People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself.  Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of. 
By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.
You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in. 
“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting. 
He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. 
“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously. 
“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”
“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”
Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”
He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator. 
“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.
“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.
“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that. 
He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”
“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.
“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”
“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”
He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”
He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.
He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.
“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.
He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”
“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”
“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”
He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.
“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.
“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now. 
You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it. 
You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.
He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”
“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”
“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone. 
“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”
“Not for me,” was his clipped response.
“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”
“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.
“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”
“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation. 
You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out. 
You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed. 
“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”
“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”
“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.
You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”
He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that. 
Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders. 
The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom. 
It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent. 
You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape. 
You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed. 
Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14. 
It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!
You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine. 
Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.
He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.
Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered. 
It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you. 
“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.
He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well. 
The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual. 
Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver. 
After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.
“Good morning,” you called. 
“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.
You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious. 
As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.
“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”
“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”
“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”
“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that. 
The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away. 
You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around. 
“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.
“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”
“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.
He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them. 
“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving. 
You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.
He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.
“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.
Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned. 
Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet. 
When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar. 
As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together. 
And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 
Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself. 
But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better. 
Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?
You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching. 
With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication. 
You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit. 
You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself. 
But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall. 
You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate. 
Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.
You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore. 
You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.
Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready. 
Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life. 
You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.
What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not. 
You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar. 
At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar. 
It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread. 
It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with. 
He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you. 
You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work. 
So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 
You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.
The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted. 
That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 
Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be. 
You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell. 
You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell. 
“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name. 
You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.
“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them. 
“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.
“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray. 
“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes. 
It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.
“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation. 
One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”
Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads. 
“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.
“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”
“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”
Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong. 
The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face. 
The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.
You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face. 
The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state. 
She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.
Your coworker called your name and you paused.
“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them. 
“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”
You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply. 
The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious. 
“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 
She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone. 
He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.
“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”
“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”
He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.
“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”
His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.
“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”
You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open. 
You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.
The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again. 
She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out. 
Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”
“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”
You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.
She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”
“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”
It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one. 
“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.
You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it. 
You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon. 
You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table. 
“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”
You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”
“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”
“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.
“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.
“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”
That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.
“Go on home,” she says softly.
“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.
“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”
With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 
You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 
You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 
You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.
He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.
Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.
You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 
“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”
You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 
Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 
He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 
The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.
His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.
“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 
You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 
You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 
“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.
Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”
“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”
He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 
You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.
“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”
“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 
“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 
You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 
Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 
But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 
“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.
Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 
True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 
He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.
He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 
Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 
You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.
“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 
He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”
You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.
He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”
He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.
You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.
“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.
“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 
“Alright,” is all he says in reply.
You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 
You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 
He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 
“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 
“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 
“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.
“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”
“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”
“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”
“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”
“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”
“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”
You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.
“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 
Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 
As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.
You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 
He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.
You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 
You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 
You never brought it up again. 
But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 
Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 
Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 
He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 
After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 
“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”
“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.
“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.
“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.
“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”
A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.
Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 
Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 
Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 
“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”
He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 
“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”
“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.
“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”
“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.
“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”
Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 
You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”
“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”
You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 
“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”
“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”
You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 
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You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 
As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 
He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.
“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.
He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 
“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 
He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.
“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.
He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”
“Oh,” you respond. 
Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 
No, he doesn’t love you.
You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 
The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 
You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 
His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 
Handsome.
You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.
Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 
You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 
Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 
Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 
Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.
“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.
You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 
What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?
You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 
Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 
You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 
You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 
By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.
“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.
“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.
“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”
“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”
“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 
You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 
Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 
When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.
But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 
Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 
He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 
You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 
“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 
Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 
“Si…” you whimper again.
“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”
He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 
You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.
If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 
Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 
You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.
“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.
“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”
As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.
“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”
“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”
“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”
“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.
“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”
“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”
He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”
He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 
Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 
You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 
Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 
But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 
“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”
“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”
He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 
You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 
You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 
By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 
Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 
You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 
Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.
You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.
You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 
You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 
But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 
You wish that he loved you. 
You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 
Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 
A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.
You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 
You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.
I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 
He promised.
You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.
You hang up and try again. And again. And again.
He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.
You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 
But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 
Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 
You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 
You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 
Then you do it again. And again. And again. 
You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 
You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 
Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 
You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 
You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 
It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 
You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 
You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 
God, you hate him. 
He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 
He wanders further into the room before pausing. 
He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 
“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”
Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 
Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 
Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 
He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 
That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?
You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 
You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 
You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 
Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 
“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 
You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 
When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 
He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 
“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”
He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 
You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 
“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 
“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”
You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.
“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”
He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 
And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 
You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 
Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 
You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.
You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 
He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 
What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 
This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 
What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 
You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 
You cry all the time. Day and night. 
You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 
God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 
You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 
You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 
When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 
You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 
It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 
Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 
You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 
Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 
You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 
The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 
You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 
You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 
You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 
“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 
“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”
“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”
“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 
“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”
You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”
“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”
“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.
“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”
Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 
“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”
His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”
You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 
When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 
You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 
The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 
You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 
So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 
As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 
You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 
You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 
Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 
But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 
Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 
So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 
You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 
You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 
You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 
Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.
Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 
He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 
“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 
He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 
“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”
“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 
“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”
“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”
You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 
But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 
Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 
After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”
You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”
“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 
He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 
“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.
“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 
You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”
“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 
You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”
Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.
“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”
You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 
You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 
When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 
You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 
You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 
He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 
It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 
You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.
You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 
You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 
He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 
He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 
His words ring out through your head like a bell. 
“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”
Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 
Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 
“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 
“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”
You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.
“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”
You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”
Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”
All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”
“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”
“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”
For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 
“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”
Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 
The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 
Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 
With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 
But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.
“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 
He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”
“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”
His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 
Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 
Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 
“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”
“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 
Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 
You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 
“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”
You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.
You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 
When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 
A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 
“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”
“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”
Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”
As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 
You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.
You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 
When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.
“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.
“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”
You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 
As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 
But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 
You love him, you really do. 
But you’re still so angry at him. 
And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 
The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.
“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.
Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”
“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 
Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”
You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”
He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”
“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”
He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”
You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”
“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.
“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”
He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”
“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”
You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”
He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.
“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”
“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”
He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”
“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”
He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.
“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.
“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”
“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 
He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 
“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”
“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.
“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 
You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 
You wished he would stop leaving. 
You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 
You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 
The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 
“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.
Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 
You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”
You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 
“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”
You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.
He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.
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PART TWO.
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aweina · 6 months
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Could I request the reverse of your ‘when you catch them staring’ headcannons? And with a lot of teasing from the reader too?
୨୧. heart eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : sub-zero. scorpion. smoke + johnny cage & raiden
when you catch them staring at you.
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bi-han tries to make his staring unnoticeable. with his silver mask blocking away any emotions that he could display, his eyes have become naturally expressive over time. they gleam whenever you pass by him, a foreign softness to them. the permanent scowl is less intense when he takes a moment to memorize details of your face. your eyes captivated him the most — a whirl of emotions so deep set into your irises. he could stare at them for hours on end.
it’s when you asked bi-han to revise tomorrow’s training module, his staring is much more obvious in such a closer proximity. his dull brown eyes look restful, more hazy with warmth that contrasted his deadly cold nature — yet he still looks terrifying, but it could never be helped when it came bi-han, it was his resting face. when you quickly look up for a reply, he realizes all too late that he’s caught, yet his stubbornness tells him not to falter under your gaze as he mentally cursing at himself for his blatant act of staring.
“are you angry at me or is there something on my face?” you quirked an amused brow with a smile, tilting your head cutely.
bi-han just grunted in response, snatching the scroll off your hands and raising it against his face to avoid your teasing gaze — thankful his mask hid his redden cheeks. the grandmaster would have to die of old age before he admits that he admires you from afar. but for now he’ll deal with your relentless teasing.
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kuai liang loves to admire beauty whenever he encounters it. the vibrant, pink blossoms grown in wu shi academy always made him smile. the fresh greenery and exotic plants that he cared for always brightened his day. but all those things were incomparable to your beauty and intellect. he loves to watch you fight — even looking past the sweat and messy hair after intense training. he watches you with adoration when you converse with the younger trainees — resilient and beautiful — he thinks.
you tended to him after he comes back from a mission, offering herbal tea and a scenery of his garden under the moonlight. you converse with him, although it’s one sided. kuai liang stares at your lips, soft and pretty — curling into a sweet smile. you notice that his soften eyes were directed on your lips. a rush of heat flowed through your body, how long had he done this for?
“what is so interesting about my lips kuai liang?” you muster the courage to ask, mentally thanking madam bo for gifting you tinted lip balm.
his reaction seemed halted before he realizes he was indeed caught. he chuckled nervously as he propped himself up to turn towards the luminance of the moon. kuai liang was flustered, but when he felt your balmy lips on his cheek, all the shame in his body vanished.
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tomas isn’t subtle. at all. he’s very much aware of that, even his brothers and the young trainees tease him for being so smitten at plain sight. even so, he still cannot help but continue to stare at you with a loving daze — nervously fiddling his fingers behind his back. through his daily admiring, tomas came to the conclusion that he loved everything about you. his eyes tend to dart to your bright eyes, soft lips, pretty hair, and silky skin.
when you’re accompanying him with his training, cheering and playfully applauding at the younger ninjas dueling in an tense battle. the action playing before tomas was lost in time. it was blurry, silent, unmoving but all he could see is you — manipulating this time stop in his mind with your raw radiance. then his eyes widen when you met his gaze and suddenly he’s panicking. with trained speed, he’s now looking down at his feet, whistling a broken tune.
“this is the third time i’ve caught you staring, you know that right?” you mused, uncontrollably giggling when tomas nods in flustered acknowledgment.
tomas looks up from his feet and sighs in defeat. even caught another time, he’ll still take the opportunity to look at the scene before him — your cheerful grin and gleaming eyes. if his staring problem can make you this happy, he doesn’t see why he should ever stop.
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johnny cage is a shameless man. he loves to flirt and proudly embrace his failed attempts at flirting. eye contact is key, he believes. a very effective technique to swoon others and an act of intimacy without touching. johnny loves to stare at you, in hopes of meeting your eye and share a perfectly cliche romantic movie experience. but with your oblivious nature, he hasn’t been successful just yet. although he learned that he loved your smile — instead of his usual attraction to anything below the face.
mindlessly wondering around the fire temple, johnny finds you sitting on the stairs while reading a rather thick looking book. he immediately joins your side, flashing a white smile as he enthusiastically boast about his acting career. even if your eyes aren’t on him, to much to his disappointment, you acknowledged every word and responded in interest. then he gradually stops talking until he’s mute and you grow concerned.
“johnny, did you fall asleep?” your brows furrowed as you turned to him, his head resting on his knee.
with his frosty blue lens, you couldn’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. slowly, you took the frames off his face and flinch in shock. his eyes were wide open, staring at yours with unfamiliar intensity for a moment. then you smile and turn away flustered. finally! he made eye contact and was rewarded with your beautiful smile. johnny’s hollywood charm works … most of the time.
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raiden is clueless when it comes to his staring problem. he doesn’t mean to stare half the time, it was a force of habit — automatic admiration. you were simply bewitching, even in simple attire that was paired with a stained apron. his eyes are big and soft when he looks at you, even so when he talks about you. it could take kung lao screaming in his ear for raiden to snap out of his enchanted state. he promises himself to be more subtle, and so he did.
you’re pacing around the tea house, serving refreshments with impressive finesse while warmly conversing with the local villagers. under his straw hat, raiden watches you intently — noticing the loose stands fall on your face as it tickles your neck. your soft hair frames your face perfectly, dancing through the air like silk in the wind — one of your most beautiful features. under a smitten daze, he doesn’t notice how your body is much closer and how your voice was much clearer, soothing his ears.
“it’s okay to call me over for a chat raiden, i don’t bite.” you jested as you tilted his hat back with a finger, meeting his eager gaze.
he’s blushing now, beet red. a nervous laugh escaped his lips as his eyes averted to the side — caught in the act. you only adoringly smile at him, leaving the check on his table as you tend to another customer. another friendly interaction, raiden thinks. but when he looks at the check, a small heart and the time you’re off work was written on the parchment. his cheeks suddenly hurt from smiling too hard, he couldn’t wait. but for now, he’ll kill time by watching you from afar.
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© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.
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sansaorgana · 6 days
Text
— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VII)
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PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART EIGHT
PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC
SUMMARY — Baron Harkonnen throws a celebration in the honour of the na-baroness being pregnant with the heir of his house. Feyd-Rautha's unusual gift for his wife surprises everyone.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. It's the longest chapter so far and I wrote it all yesterday...??? I was afraid that after a few chapters I would start losing interest in writing down the story (as usual) but something completely opposite is happening 😳 I was planning a little in my head and I think the story will have 10 chapters but the last chapter might be very long... I am not sure yet. You see, I have a little OCD and I don't like odd numbers... So there is no way the story will have 11 chapters 🤣 Either 10 or 12. Of course I want to thank everyone showing support to my story and my writing. Special thanks to @everandforeveryours for sending me a link to a helpful Dune lore video and allowing me to use a good idea of Feyd's pets being a gift from the Baron Harkonnen. I also want to tag @valeskafics and her fanfic "Between Us" because it uses the same theme I used in this chapter. I had this idea even before reading that amazing story but she wrote it first so I want to be fair! 💕
WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death
WORD COUNT — 7,110
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
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THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VII)
The sound of grunts, screams and clinging metal accompanied your breakfast as usual when you were eating your morning meal and watching your husband practice in the courtyard. Last night’s memories brought a faint smile to your face as you caressed your womb with your free hand.
Never before had you performed your marital duties in such a way. Nothing hurt you that morning, nothing was aching, nothing was sore. What a shame, you thought at first but you knew that your child’s safety was the priority. You were aware of the mockery of this yearning which was missing Feyd’s roughness and abuse. You both had your victories with each other – he had managed to shape your body and its desires the way he wanted to. He had turned you into a whore.
So, last night’s relative gentleness had been new to the both of you. It hadn’t been as exciting nor fun but you would get used to it for the few upcoming months, you decided.
You looked down and watched him finish the fight so gracefully and swiftly that it made you feel proud as if you were a mother watching her son training. Your fingers tickled your own abdomen teasingly, hoping that your unborn son could feel that. You already imagined him being the one training one day as you’d watch proudly.
Feyd looked up to make sure you had witnessed his victory and you waved at him before going back to your breakfast. He was an exquisite warrior and you wondered why his uncle still made him perform pathetic shows in front of the audience instead of letting him show his real abilities. Perhaps he didn’t want Feyd to become more respectable, at least not yet. It would weaken his position and despite presenting his nephew as his natural successor, he wasn’t eager to let go of the throne just yet.
Feyd had been right the other day when he had told you that it was not the right time to kill the Baron. It would make the nobility of Giedi Prime want to take over the reign and call Feyd an usurper. No, the transfer of power had to go smoothly because every civil war was weakening its state.
You were deep in your thoughts when Feyd joined you on the balcony in his gladiator gear, still breathing heavily after the fight.
“Let me finish my breakfast first,” you told him casually. You knew what he wanted. The same thing as always after the fight.
“Not today,” he only said and sat on the chair next to yours. You raised your eyebrow at him and watched him grabbing a plate and putting some of your food on it.
“You don’t have to restrain yourself so much, I am not made of glass,” you chuckled.
“Who said I’m going to restrain myself?” He looked at you and you moved uncomfortably.
You still had the image of his awful cannibalistic lovers making out with each other and hissing at you with jealousy, threatening to eat your heart.
Feyd’s appetite was insatiate, you didn’t mind sharing him with concubines – especially in your fragile state. But these three women… They simply had to go but you had no idea how to deal with that matter. He seemed to have a strong bond with them.
“What are you still doing here then?” You snapped at him angrily and looked away.
“My uncle is throwing a celebration tonight in your honour,” Feyd explained and you looked back at him, surprised.
“In my honour?” You asked in disbelief.
“You’re carrying the Harkonnen heir,” he reminded you with a proud smirk. “It is a custom to celebrate it,” he added.
“What kind of celebration?” You wanted details. Once again, this side of the Harkonnen culture was not known to you.
And to think that your father had been advertising you as a woman who was very educated in that matter.
“The nobility of Giedi Prime will come to celebrate and shower you with gifts,” Feyd watched with delight as you smiled and your eyes sparkled.
“Now you’re talking!” You were visibly excited.
“I came here to ask what kind of gift I can give to you,” Feyd’s words made you freeze for a second.
You did not expect that.
“Keep in mind I only have a few hours to get it,” he added. “So don’t ask me for impossible things.”
Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. A very delicious idea and it made your heart pound faster in your chest. You had your large victory with Feyd but you still weren’t sure how far he’d go for you, you still weren’t sure if his domestication process had been complete. This could be a great test of his obedience but it could also anger him. You decided to risk it since your new status was making you untouchable anyway.
“Well, there is something I want,” you whispered, seductively, as you looked deep inside his eyes.
“What is it?” He asked and you chuckled as you mysteriously covered your mouth with your hand. He furrowed his brow at that gesture and you beckoned him over as if you wanted to tell him a secret.
Unsurely, he leaned in for you to whisper into his ear.
“I want to be your only pet… like you are mine,” you breathed out and bit on his earlobe gently before pulling away and seeing the absolute terror on his face.
He was trying to hide it the best he could but you only smirked at him, not expanding your thoughts any further. You didn’t care what he’d do to them, you just wanted them to be discarded.
Feyd did not say anything. He took one last bite of his breakfast and left the table to walk away and walk out of the chambers. It was a little disappointing that he hadn’t given you any reaction whatsoever but you decided to give him some time to process your request and his own feelings.
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You almost had a nervous breakdown in front of your wardrobe and it felt humiliating to be so emotional about the outfit to choose. Like all these months on Giedi Prime hadn’t changed the core of your personality – you were spoiled.
“Na-baroness, please, calm down, it’s going to be alright,” Astra’s eyes widened at you.
“I don’t know what is wrong with me…” You sniffed your tears back.
“It’s the baby, I’m sure, my Lady,” Cara assured you.
“There is no point in crying over a dress, I’m so stupid,” you sat on the bed and hid your face in your hands. 
“I think there is, actually, my Lady,” Astra swallowed thickly before sharing her thought and you looked up at her, questioningly. Cara did the same thing. “I mean, na-baroness, the clothes you’re wearing, they’re reflecting your power and personality. May I dare to say… Women do not have as many opportunities to display their power as men and for noble women… the way they’re presenting themselves… that’s very important, my Lady,” she explained. “Forgive me for my boldness but on the day of your wedding, na-baroness, your dress was turned into a mockery by the na-baron. But on the day of his fight in the arena, you established your dominance with that red leather dress, my Lady,” she bowed down her head and waited for you to scold her.
“You should have just shut your mouth,” Cara hissed at her.
But you only laughed cheerfully and extended your hands towards the girls to hold them.
“Oh, girls, I adore you,” you assured them. “Thank you for your insight, Astra. You are a very smart girl and you are right,” you told her and she looked up in disbelief as her eyes sparkled. “So are you, Cara, but you need to have more courage,” you squeezed Cara’s hand to show her some of your gratitude, too.
You didn’t want to favour any of them because it could lead to the other one growing to feel resentment and betraying you. You knew perfectly well how it felt like to be the less favoured one.
They both smiled sweetly and helped you to get up to choose from the dresses all over again. You wanted to look like a Harkonnen but you wanted to stand out, too. Not only were you the na-baroness but it was also your day, your celebration, your moment to shine.
Someone knocked upon your doors and Cara went to open them to see who that was.
“We have a gift for na-baroness,” you heard a male voice and you nodded your head at Cara for her to let them in.
Two of Baron Harkonnen's servants entered your bedroom carrying a big black box. You furrowed your brows at it as one of them bowed down and handed you a letter.
My Baroness, this gown is a gift from me. My own mother wore it for her celebration after conceiving an heir. The tailors have been working on it to adjust it to your size all night. It is your decision whether to wear it for the feast or not but it would bring me great pleasure to see you in it and proving your loyalty to the House Harkonnen. – Baron H.
A chill went down your spine. You didn’t expect that. It was his attempt to show his dominance over you, to test your loyalty as if there was still some hint of doubt about it. You were a Harkonnen now. You had nothing to prove.
“Unpack it,” you ordered his servants. You wanted to see the gown first.
The skirt was made of black leather with a long and slim train that resembled a snake. The bodice was made of black metallic net so tightly knotted that it was barely transparent but there were red gemstones scattered all over it, forming an emblem of the House Harkonnen on the chest.
You didn’t know what to do. The dress was stunning but you knew that wearing it would only give Baron a satisfaction you did not want to give him. On the other hand, you didn’t want to be too openly rebellious towards him like you were with your husband. And some part of you was scared to disobey him as you had disobeyed Feyd when you had been given a dress from him.
“I will wear it, thank you,” you nodded at the servants and they nodded their heads before walking out of the room and leaving you alone with your girls.
“So, problem solved,” Astra chuckled softly as she touched the fabric of the gown with awe.
“Not entirely,” Cara scolded her. “Isn’t our na-baroness also the Duchess Atreides now? This dress is to humiliate her,” she pointed out and then gave you an apologetic smile.
“That is true, my darling,” you told her. “But I have bent my knee in front of Baron Harkonnen. House Atreides – which I represent – serves the Baron now,” you explained. “Let’s put it on,” your eyes sparkled at the gown.
The bodice felt like an armour but the skirt was regal and feminine. It was a perfect mix, you had to admit. You hated the Baron for understanding your fashion sense so quickly. Suddenly, an odd feeling crossed your mind.
“I'm wondering what he was like when he was young, The Baron,” you told your girls as they widened their eyes at you. “What kind of husband would he be…”
“My Lady!” Astra gasped and you laughed at the terror and shock on her face.
“I just like getting pretty things,” you shrugged your arms and winked at her as you admired yourself in the mirror.
“If na-baroness keeps saying such things, you might make na-baron jealous and angry,” Cara reminded you. Little did she know she had just given you a great idea.
“Oh, maybe I want that, my sweet,” you chuckled at her. “You know what?” You decided to change the subject as the girls looked at each other, surprised. “I think I want to wear my hair up this time. Do you think you can manage that now?”
“Yes!” Astra was excited for the idea. “And we can attach the red gemstones to the hairdo to match the dress!”
“Sounds good,” you nodded at her with a smile.
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You were supposed to enter the dining room as the last one, side by side with your husband for all the guests to admire you and cheer. So you were waiting in the room nearby, still admiring yourself in the mirror constantly. Feyd wasn’t there yet – in fact you hadn’t seen him since breakfast.
When the doors behind you opened without knocking, you knew already it had to be him and indeed, you spotted him in the mirror’s reflection. He was wearing his black leather uniform and squinted his eyes at you.
You turned around with a sly smile to show off your gown but he didn’t look very pleased.
“What is this dress?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.
“I hoped you’d tell me I look beautiful, dear husband,” you put your hands on your hips.
“I didn’t say you did not,” he pointed out and you smirked. “But I don’t recall giving you such a dress and I sincerely doubt it is one of those you brought with you from Caladan,” he gritted his teeth and you noticed his whole body went tense.
“It is a gift from your uncle,” you tried to sound as innocent as possible. “It was his mother’s,” you added and gasped in awe in an exaggerated way as you caressed the skirt.
“My uncle gave it to you?” Feyd approached you quickly and tugged on one of the sleeves as you squealed.
“What are you doing? Do you want to break it?!” You managed to push his hand away but his face was now inches away from yours and you could see anger spilling out of his eyes. His clenched jaw was practically shaking. “What is your problem? Can’t I accept gifts from your uncle? He is my family now as much as you are and he is my Baron whom I serve,” you added.
“I thought you wanted me to kill him,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth.
“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. His gifts are nicer than yours,” you teased as you giggled cruelly into his face. “I mentioned to my girls earlier today that he would make a good husband if he was younger and healthier,” you continued. It was delicious to watch him in such torment but some part of you felt bad for it, too.
“You’re more stupid than I thought then,” Feyd spat out. “So disappointing.”
You let out a nervous laugh. It hadn’t gone as you expected. You had to take it back as fast as possible. You knew that he admired you for being cunning and you couldn't spoil that.
“Oh, darling,” you cupped his face and he flinched but you shushed him, “can’t you see I’m teasing you, my pet?” You raised your eyebrow at him. His muscles relaxed but his eyes were full of confusion. “You should have seen your ugly face when I was saying these things,” you giggled and you leaned in to place soft kisses upon his lips and cheeks.
“Why did you wear that dress?” He only asked after a short while, when he was less angry already.
“Because it’s pretty and I don’t want him to think that I am his enemy. He probably thinks that already but I don’t want to show it,” you explained softly. “Sometimes you have to lose a small battle in order to win the war.”
“He’s going to stare at you all evening. I hate it when he does that,” Feyd told you. You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs.
“He can stare as much as he wants. I didn’t wear it for him. I wore that for my husband and for my son,” you assured him.
These days feeding him with all these praises and sweet things felt easier than usual. These days it felt almost natural. You didn’t have to plan what to say. It was coming directly from your poisoned heart; filled with the venom of unwanted affection towards the man standing in front of you.
The guards knocked upon the door and you realised it was the time to finally leave the room and join the guests in the dining room. You took a deep breath in and lowered your arms to give your husband’s hands a squeeze before leaving his side and approaching the doors.
“Are you coming?” You looked back at him.
“I am,” he joined you and put his hand on your waist. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he smirked at you and you rolled your eyes but on the inside you felt the warmth spilling all over your body.
Feyd led you inside the dining room after you two had been announced. You were watched by the cheering people as you gracefully and slowly walked towards the podium with two large, black chairs. The Baron was sitting on the opposite side of the room and watching you with a smirk as the long train of your dress followed you as if it was a real snake indeed, slithering on the black marble floor.
You watched Feyd taking a seat on one of the chairs and you were about to sit on yours, when you felt his hands grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You didn’t want to fight him in front of all these people so you kept your smile on. And – even though it was taking away some of your dignity – it felt good, too. His right hand with the Harkonnen signet ring landed on your abdomen possessively. The long train of your dress was falling down the side of the podium as you decided to use the second chair as a footstool.
You weren’t presenting yourselves like a dignified noble couple of the future Baron and Baroness of Giedi Prime. You looked like barbarian rulers of the savage tribe; sitting lazily on your thrones and not caring much about the etiquette. It wasn’t exactly how you had planned this evening to go but you loved to spot the annoyance on the Baron’s face.
Once you were seated, the guests sat down as well and they were announced one after another to approach you, bow down and show off their gifts to you.
Lots of the presents weren’t actually for you but for your son. There were blades and knives of all sorts – all of them beautifully made. Some lords gifted you jewellery and the Bene Gesserit woman gave you an old book from the Bene Gesserit library. You couldn’t see her face behind the veil but you were sure that her eyes were watching you as carefully as the Baron’s. And as your aunt’s friend she was most likely your grandfather’s spy, too.
All the lords and ladies were back in their seats and you had a feeling it was all over now. You tried to hide your disappointment about the fact that there was no gift from Feyd when the servant announced:
“To Na-Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen, Duchess of The House Atreides and a mother of his son, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen presents a humble offering hoping to win her favours,” the man bowed down as three servants approached you. Each one of them was holding a black, covered plate.
Everyone was staring in anticipation, knowing your husband’s reputation they wanted to see what kind of present it could be. You felt his muscles tensing as his hand squeezed your womb even more possessively. He was excited for you to see and your heart skipped a beat as you already had a feeling what it was.
Feyd nodded at the servants and they took the black, velvet veils off of the plates as everyone gasped in shock and disgust. You tried very hard not to react in any way at the sight of the three familiar heads of your husband’s pet darlings.
You swallowed thickly, feeling his impatience to see your reaction. From the corner of your eye you noticed that the Baron was very displeased and you wondered why.
The eyes of the guests were wide as everyone on Giedi Prime had known about Feyd’s cannibalistic lovers. Everyone in the room was aware of the significance of this gift and perhaps that was the reason behind Baron’s anger.
You didn’t want to thank your husband for the present. It would be humiliating to thank him in front of everyone for getting rid of his concubines. However, he was expecting praise as the rest of the room was expecting some sort of reaction. You turned your head around to place a passionate kiss upon his lips as you cupped his cheek with one of your hands and the guests cheered. The servants took the heads away and you were glad because the sight was making you feel sick.
As you were kissing Feyd who seemed to be very proud of himself, you realised that you had just killed people. Perhaps not directly but they died because of your order and your request. These creatures were twisted and sick and dangerous but they were still – in some way – people. You remembered your father’s words about taking human life.
People should not decide about other people’s right to live or die. As noblemen in power we are burdened with the responsibility of making such decisions way more often than we should. It is important to remember the value of each and every single human life.
You didn’t want to think of that. You didn’t want that feeling somewhere deep in your heart that you disappointed your father. He was dead and he was the one who had sent you here, causing you to become like this. He would have no right to judge you. You wanted to survive more than anything because the life you had been living so far was not satisfying enough. And now, orphaned and basically homeless, you finally could make a new life for yourself. This time everything would be on your terms.
You finished the kiss with a smile as you leaned in to peck Feyd’s lips again with a sweet chuckle. The servants placed a table in front of you as the feast was supposed to begin.
“Good boy,” you whispered to him.
“My Lady,” he nodded his head at you with a wide smile, showing off his black teeth. This time it didn’t even make you flinch as you had grown used to his face. Perhaps it was because of the child in your womb but you leaned in once again to put yet another kiss upon his lips and he eagerly kissed you back.
Feyd kept you on his lap during the feast. You were feeding him his almost raw steak with your fork and he was feeding you with cake that had been prepared for your celebration. You remembered your wedding celebration and chuckled to yourself how different these two banquets were.
At some point of digging the fork and knife into Feyd’s steak, you felt your mouth watering at the sight of blood leaking out of it on the plate. It deeply confused you since you had always found these disgusting.
“What is it, pet?” Feyd placed a kiss on your neck, waiting for another piece of meat you’d feed him with.
“It’s nothing, I…” You hesitated, your eyes fixated on the steak with a mix of fascination and confusion. Feyd noticed it and laughed at you.
“Try it,” he encouraged you but you shook your head, refusing. “Try it,” he took the fork from your hand and turned your head around before putting the piece of meat in front of your mouth. “He wants it, not you. It’s for him,” the hand he kept on your abdomen squeezed your womb. You still looked unsure. “He’s a Harkonnen, he has his needs,” Feyd explained.
“I’m a Harkonnen, too,” you whispered and he smirked.
“Then open your mouth like a good girl,” he ordered and you obeyed, not ever breaking eye contact. When the piece of a bloody steak was inside your mouth already, you let it melt a little on your tongue. Feyd placed his hand on your throat possessively but gently – his intention was not to hurt you but to feel you swallow.
You couldn’t tell the steak was delicious but it surprisingly was not as awful as you had expected. It had to be the effect of your pregnancy but you didn’t want to refuse your son anything he wanted. You wanted him to be born as strong as he could and to become a warrior even greater than his father.
As Feyd was staring at you with admiration, you suddenly realised that it would be so much easier to turn your son into another guard dog of yours. You could give Feyd many sons and each of them would be willing to kill for his mother and her ambitions. You got dreamy for a while, sincerely hoping Feyd wouldn’t insist on raising his children the same way he had been raised by his uncle. Despite your dream of having strong warriors sons, you didn't want them to achieve that through pain and losing a sense of humanity.
You gave Feyd a sweet smile and let him kiss you once more, not caring at all what all the guests had to think. And caring only a little about the Baron’s visible anger.
After a while the guests left their seats as they began approaching one another and exchanging courtesies. Many of them walked up to you to congratulate you personally. It felt delightful to see so much fear and respect in the eyes of those Harkonnen men who had looked so scary to you a few months earlier but now you saw them as nothing but pathetic.
You spotted that one of the Harkonnen ladies looked surprisingly familiar. She was talking to another woman. She had a hooded dress but for a brief while you were convinced that you could spot… hair. Astra and Cara had informed you that sometimes Harkonnen noble women were wearing wigs to look prettier but you had also been aware that nowadays it was considered as a faux pas because of you and your very real and very natural hair.
“Excuse me,” you left your husband’s side and left him with one of the lords. He was watching you walk away but he did not stop you.
With your heart squeezed in your chest, you touched a shoulder of one of those women and they both turned around, startled. You gasped at the sight of them.
They were your old maids you had brought with you from Caladan. The ones that had been given to the Harkonnen noble lords.
“My Lady…” They both bowed down and you looked them up and down.
Both of them were swollen with children and their faces looked exhausted. You could swear that their skin was a shade paler than you remembered. One of them had her hair shaved off completely but the other one kept her locks and she also had makeup on.
“My girls, where have you been?” You asked them with a gentle smile. “I hope your husbands treat you well,” you added as you touched their arms and they both flinched, especially the bald one.
“I can’t complain, na-baroness,” the one with hair told you. “Beginnings were difficult but now I’m a lady and not a maid,” she placed her hand on her swollen belly.
“I am very sorry, I hope you both know I had nothing to do with what happened,” you bit on your lower lip.
“My Lady, I have accepted my faith a long time ago,” she sighed. “My husband is not as handsome as yours, na-baroness, but he is worshipping me for my looks. I am sorry for keeping my real hair, I know it is rude to show it off around you, my Lady. That is why I have a hood on my head. But my husband doesn’t allow me to cut it. In fact, he wants them to be as long as they can get,” she explained.
“I do not mind you wearing hair on your head,” you told her. “Yours is real, you have a right to wear it.”
“But not to show it off, my Lady,” she explained.
“Is that some new law I’ve had no idea of?” You chuckled, watching the other one from the corner of your eye. She was acting extremely odd and her pupils were dilated to the point her eyes almost looked black.
“Not officially, no, as far as I am concerned,” your former maid explained, “but the Baron himself was telling the lords that their wives should not wear wigs because it is insulting to the new na-baroness,” she bowed down slightly.
“And what about you, darling? What happened to your beautiful hair?” You looked at the other one as she gasped and bowed down as well, nervously.
“M-my na-baroness,” she stuttered out.
“What is wrong with her?” You asked the other one.
“Her husband, he…”
“My husband is the greatest and the most generous man I could ever ask for, my Lady,” the startled one interrupted her as she widened her eyes even further at you. “There is not a day I am not grateful for him,” she continued and you squinted your eyes at her. You had given the same speech to your grandfather the other day about Feyd-Rautha. But your speech was purposefully planned out and she sounded like a programmed machine.
You wanted to ask her about more things when you noticed a huge and very unpleasant looking Harkonnen lord approaching you angrily. He bowed down at the sight of you but then he grabbed the bald woman by her arm and pulled her closer to him.
“What have I told you about walking away?!” He scolded her.
“I-I am so sorry, my Lord, please forgive me, I did not mean to disobey, please, my Lord…” She trembled.
“My Lord,” you told him and he laid his angry eyes at you, “it is my fault. I wanted to speak to my former maid. Please, I did not mean to steal your wife away from you.”
“Na-baroness doesn’t have to explain herself to me,” he bowed down to you. “It is an honour for you to speak to my wife, my Lady,” he added and dragged her away with him.
You watched with shock, terror and sadness but there was nothing you could do. You had to be a harsh na-baroness Harkonnen and accept their customs. You didn’t want to make scenes and ruin your own celebration.
After all, you were selfish, too.
“Mine is not like that,” the other woman only told you. “There he is,” she pointed at the man talking to Feyd-Rautha. The men looked at you and you both waved at them as they nodded. Her husband was not very good looking indeed but he wasn’t as scary as the other one. “I told you, my Lady, it could be worse,” she told you. “But be careful with the pregnancy,” she warned as you raised an eyebrow at her.
“What do you mean?”
“These babies… their babies, I mean… They change you. I hope not permanently, but they do. And I feel as if the child is feeding off of my life energy and strength. I am weakened and exhausted,” she sighed. “But it is alright. I know my husband will not let me die.”
“I do not have to worry about these things either,” you reminded her but some part of you tried to convince yourself at the same time.
“Of course, my Lady,” she nodded her head and your husbands approached you.
“I see a little reunion, my Lady,” your former maid’s husband bowed down at you. “Congratulations, na-baroness.”
“I congratulate you, too, my Lord,” you pointed at the woman’s abdomen and he smirked as he pulled her closer to him.
“I will forever be grateful to you, na-baroness, for bringing such a gem with you all the way from Caladan,” he told you and you gave him a faint smile. “Please, do forgive me for letting me keep her hair.”
“I don’t mind her hair, my Lord,” you told him.
“As long as she’s not showing it off,” suddenly Feyd barked as you furrowed your brow at him.
“Feyd!” You chuckled nervously, ashamed of his behaviour.
“It is understandable, my Lord na-baron,” the man bowed his head and walked away with his wife.
“What was that?” You asked your husband.
“No common lady shall outshine my wife,” he explained with his jaw clenched.
“Please,” you laughed softly as you cupped his angry face, “she’s my former maid. How could she ever outshine me?” You asked him and then you teased. “Do you think I am so easy to outshine, dear husband?”
“N-no, that is not what I meant,” his eyes widened as he shook his head. “I want you to be the only woman on this planet to shine.”
“Then don’t stand in the way of light,” you leaned in to whisper into his ear and then you giggled before kissing his cheek.
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Feyd was asked to stay longer at the celebration by some of the lords who wanted to drink and party with him and other men but you decided to go to your chambers as the rest of the ladies. It was late already and you were getting tired so you said goodnight to your husband and the guests before excusing yourself and walking out of the dining room.
For the first time you noticed that there was no guard following you and your exhaustion suddenly turned into excitation. Since everyone was busy with the celebrations and you were free of company, it was a perfect excuse to wander a little around the fortress and through the corridors that you still had not explored properly.
It was your home now and you wanted to know all of it. At this point you had a few paths memorised already and you took the known one just in case you got lost and couldn’t find the way back. You passed the doors leading to the library and you pushed the next one open.
It was a Memory Room as they called it and it had the Harkonnen souvenirs and war trophies on display. You weren’t actually forbidden to go there at all but you had never gone there anyway. You had read about it in one of the books and you wanted to see it yourself but without any guard staring at you.
At this point of the night, the room was dark and empty with no one guarding it and the guards who were supposed to stand outside were most likely partying with other men as they abandoned their duties for the time of celebration.
You gasped at the size of the room as you looked around and allowed your eyes to get used to the darkness. Then you began walking around and looking at the exhibits behind the glass. The Harkonnen enemies were many and great and yet, all that was left of them remained now nothing but a trophy in this room.
There were other artefacts as well – like the one you were looking for. And when you finally spotted it, at the end of the wall, you smiled to yourself as you looked up. It was the blade given to you by the warrior during your wedding ceremony. He had won the bloody contest and swore to you that for his na-baroness he would shed the blood of his enemies. The blade still had dried up blood on it and below the exhibit there was an engraved inscription.
10191 AG – the blade given to Na-Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen of The House Atreides on the day of her wedding to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen from The Wedding Games winner Maxim Arseni
Lost in your thoughts of your name being engraved there forever, you stopped paying attention to your surroundings.
“I see you’re basking in your glory, Baroness,” a familiar, unpleasant voice startled you. You turned around and spotted the Baron himself floating in the air in the middle of the room with all his machinery behind him. How could you not hear him coming? You cursed yourself for allowing yourself to be so inattentive.
And now you were alone with him in a dark room when your husband was partying with other lords and couldn’t hear you even if you screamed for help.
“I am not basking, my Lord,” you bowed down slightly as you approached him a little to be able to see him more, “and surely I have no glory attached to my name yet.”
He smirked.
“You wore the dress,” he pointed out.
“It is beautiful, my Lord, thank you,” you nodded.
“Do you know that the harpies were my gift to Feyd for one of his birthdays? They costed me quite a lot as they had been genetically modified for him. He had a tendency of getting bored of his previous pets so I prepared him something special. He was mesmerised by them and their infinite sexual desire, their bloodthirst and devotion,” Baron was explaining to you but you could hear irritation in his voice.
Now you could understand why he was so angry. You accidentally told his dear nephew to get rid of his expensive gift.
“Did you tell him to get rid of them or did that boy do it himself?” Baron asked and you remained silent because both answers would only make it worse.
If you told him it had been your idea, he’d get his proof that you were playing a game indeed. If you lied to him it had been Feyd’s idea, he’d start thinking that Feyd was getting weak.
Unless…
“I asked him to get rid of them, my Lord. I’ve had no idea they were so meaningful,” you admitted. “But I did not specify what I want to be done to them. Their death surprised me no less than you, my Baron. His bond with them was known to me,” you added as genuinely as possible.
“I am aware what game you’re playing, Baroness,” Baron’s voice was surprisingly calm, almost as if he admired you. “Such a timid little thing that came here only a few months ago, tripping as she walked towards my throne on the first day… already making my life more exciting,” his eyes sparkled.
“You forgot how it’s like to have real enemies, did you not, my Lord?” You asked him, carefully. “They’re all so scared of you that they don’t even walk up close to you anymore. They are no worthy opponents. Even my father did not dare to fight you, he preferred to give me away for peace.”
“Your father was weak, Duchess Atreides,” Baron pointed out.
“I know,” you shrugged your arms.
“So you do know what use there is of weak men. Do you really want our Feyd to become one?” He asked and you were almost caught off guard by the tone of his voice. He was talking to you as if you were an equal.
He already knew that he was losing his control over Feyd-Rautha to you but he still hoped to share him.
Of course you couldn’t trust him. He was pretending to be your friend for his own gain. However, it meant that you had been promoted in the ladder of his enemies if his strategy was no longer humiliation and threats but fake friendship instead.
“I do not wish him to be weak,” you explained. “It is the last thing I want,” you told him, truthfully. “What you did to him… was awful. But it is something that cannot be taken back and it is something I do not want to take back,” you emphasised. 
“Yet now, after seeing his gift, all the Harkonnen lords are whispering between each other that my successor is getting weak for a woman,” Baron informed you and you gritted your teeth. If he wasn’t lying, the news were not pleasing you either. But it was useful for your little plan. “And what do we do now, my Baroness?” Baron asked.
“Let him fight in the arena,” you proposed, trying to hide the excitement on your face. He couldn’t know it was a part of your scheming, he had to think it was an idea that had just popped into your head. 
“Hmm,” he hummed to himself. “What do you mean?”
“It’s going to be his hundredth kill, right?” You asked and he nodded. “And as far as I am concerned it’s going to be his birthday, too.”
“Yes, has he told you?” Baron laughed.
“No, my servants have,” you answered truthfully. “I think for this special occasion you should give him a real warrior to kill. Not someone weak and not someone drugged. Let these whispering lords see how weak he is getting indeed. They’re quickly going to see that they were wrong about him. I’ve watched him fight and he’s excellent,” you finished.
“Interesting,” Baron squinted his eyes at you. “But also very convenient for you if he dies there. Because you're already carrying his son.”
“I have no gain in Feyd dying in the arena,” you laughed at him. “If he dies there, you’re going to kill me the moment I push the baby out and train him like you trained my husband,” you told him and then you realised that it was really true.
A shiver went down your spine. You suddenly regretted your proposition but it could not be taken back now.
“I will think of that,” Baron nodded his head at you. “You should go to sleep now and rest,” he added and you bowed down before approaching the doors, trying not to show how much you wanted to get away as fast as possible. “However,” he started and you slowed down with your hand already on the doors’ handle, “you think that I resent you way more than I actually do, Baroness,” he added and you swallowed thickly before nodding your head and walking out.
You sighed with relief at the sight of the familiar corridor and you hurried to the staircase leading to the living quarters to finally go back to your room.
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MASTERLIST
1K notes · View notes
angelltheninth · 7 days
Note
What if Alastor + "will you be mine?"
I would be his!
Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, slight power imbalance, marriage proposal, kissing, soul deal
Word count: 0.5k
A/N: Would you say yes to Alastor?
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9. "Will you be mine?"
While not particularly touchy Alastor did have his moments of romance and affection. Although tonight was highly suspicious, even for him. Never the most trustworthy sort, that boyfriend of yours, always scheming behind the scenes for something or other. You were no exception to those schemes.
"I know you're planning something, Al, I can tell by the way you're looking at me." His fingers tapped against the table at your accusation, the smooth song suddenly broken by an almost deafening snapping of strings. "Alastor? What are you planning?"
He could never look innocent, even when he was innocent he was still a suspect. This suited him, it meant that the Radio Demon always got front row seats to any and all drama in the Hotel. "Since you're onto me darling I suppose I could do this now. A shame however, as I had a whole song and speech ready for this."
With a snap of his fingers the mood in the room shifted. From a warm red and orange glow to an eerie green. His shadow demons retracted back below his feet as he set his microphone aside and walked over to your side of the table. His hand dragged and left scratches in the once smooth wooden table. Normal people would run to save their souls under these circumstances.
You weren't normal people, you were Alastor's girlfriend.
"Darling, we've spent the last 10 years together. In that time we've had... a long distance relationship because of circumstances outside of my control." Radio static pierced your ears for a moment, "Regardless both you and I have remained faithful to each other. I value your love and your loyalty."
Alastor kissed your hand and immediately went down on one knee, letting his intentions be known. "Al..." You barely choked back a sob.
"Will you be mine?" Alastor presented you with a red box, and a pretty obsidian and ruby ring. Despite his wide grin you could see by the way his ears and tail twitched, that he was nervous.
You also caught onto the wording of his question. Be his, not his wife, not his partner, be his.
No wonder the mood in the room felt so different from before. It wasn't the light, it wasn't the adrenaline that was making it hard for you to breathe, but the realization that what Alastor was asking for was not just for you to marry him and stay by his side, but your very soul to be his.
"I'll be yours." Alastor's grin got impossibly wider as he slid the ring on your ring finger, his magic wrapping around you both, cold and then warm and then cold again. It didn't happen but your brain registered a biting pain from the ring, as if it was biting down on your finger. Ever the perceptive one Alastor saw your frown.
"Thank you for trusting me with your soul, darling. I promise I'll take good care of it." He didn't mention taking care of you and as he pulled you in for a kiss all the cold left your body, you were safe with him, despite no longer owning your soul, you knew nothing could touch you.
1K notes · View notes
literary-lesbo · 1 month
Text
𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵
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ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ! ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ
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𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵
♡ "can you please come get me?"
♡ "hey, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself"
♡ "no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry"
♡ "you look sad"
♡ "oh god, you're bleeding"
♡ "I could just use a hug"
♡ "don't touch me"
♡ "it's okay, just breathe"
♡ "I'll stay for as long as you need"
♡ "you can trust me"
♡ "can I touch you? is that okay?"
♡ "you don't need to apologize, ever"
♡ "hey, hey, you're alright! it's okay, just calm down"
♡ "shh, shh, you're okay now"
♡ "here, hold my hand"
♡ "there's no shame in crying, I promise"
♡ "are you crying?"
♡ "you are what's important right now"
♡ "I've got nowhere else to be"
♡ "I'm at the hospital"
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𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵
♡ "I don't want to die"
♡ "I was only using you"
♡ "stay away from me"
♡ "why am I always your second choice?"
♡ "we almost made it"
♡ "leave I don't want to see you"
♡ "why are you helping a monster?"
♡ "I'm barely holding on"
♡ "can I leave now?"
♡ "I guess that's just how little I meant to you"
♡ "I just want to know you care about me"
♡ "stop looking at me like I'm damaged goods"
♡ "there's no us and there never was"
♡ "you deserve so much better"
♡ "don't do this here"
♡ "am I too late?"
♡ "say something, just fucking say something"
♡ "I know. I know I wasn't enough. I always did"
♡ "I did care, I used to care"
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𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧
♡ "shh, stop fussing. I'm just braiding your hair"
♡ "can I borrow your sweater? it smells like you"
♡ "you're my new pillow"
♡ "I'll be here to protect you"
♡ "it's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway"
♡ "you make me so happy"
♡ "aww, you're blushing"
♡ "wait...is this a date?"
♡ "can I kiss you?"
♡ "I'm glad you came"
♡ "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"
♡ "thank you for being her for me"
♡ "you're so pretty when you first wake up"
♡ "I want you to stay, please"
♡ "dance with me"
♡ "your eyes are so pretty"
♡ "is someone sleepy?"
♡ "can I kiss you?"
♡ "you're so warm"
♡ "this/these are my favorite"
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𝘚𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘧𝘪𝘤
♡ “you’re sure I’m sick?  ‘cause I feel fine”
♡  “I really cannot be sick right now”
♡  “everyone gets colds.  I’ll live”
♡  “I really hope this is just my allergies”
♡  “stop thinking so loud; my head hurts”
♡ "I'm scared"
♡ "I can't even talk properly"
♡  "I feel like I'm letting everyone down"
♡ "you're making a big deal out of nothing"
♡ "I'm so tired..."
♡ "no, you're not fine. you're burning up”
♡ "you need to rest. I'll stay here with you until you feel better"
♡ “just let me take care of you"
♡ "here, take my blanket”
♡ “I’ll make some tea”
♡ “you're in no condition to go anywhere”
♡ “just rest and let your body fight this off"
♡ “take this medicine, please"
♡ "I'm here now”
♡ "right now, the only person you need to help is yourself”
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1K notes · View notes
nouearth · 8 months
Text
lessons in kissing.
dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.
summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).
wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!
notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!
request by: anonymous.
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“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”
“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion. 
“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.
your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.
“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”
“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”
“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers. 
“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”
you’ve always found it cute.
“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”
“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities. 
“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”
“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”
yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.
“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”
“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”
“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days. 
nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.
dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?
“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that. 
you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.
the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.
but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived. 
the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.
was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.
no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.
you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-
oh.
ohhhhh.
dick and peter.
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“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.
“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth. 
you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.
“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.
“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food. 
“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.
dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“
“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?” 
“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance. 
“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”
“hey, they’re not weird-“
“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”
peter choked on his glass of water.
you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”
and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.
a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded. 
“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”
“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“
“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway. 
“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.
and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“
you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“
“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.
“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.
“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.
you can always count on them. 
“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment. 
“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.
and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.
you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.
light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief. 
it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.
unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.” 
peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.
“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.
“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.
“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”
you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”
“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss. 
his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.
you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.
in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth. 
it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.
when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.
but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war. 
they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.
lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.
“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.
through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.
“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.
you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.
the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.
you followed.
even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.
“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”
your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.
contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned. 
you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.
that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”
he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.
you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.
“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”
“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”
you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.
“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.
“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”
“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.
“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.
“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.
“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.
and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.
“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”
peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing. 
you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.
“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.
“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”
“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.
as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse. 
and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.
“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?” 
“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.
two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.
“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.
“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.
holy shit, this is happening.
like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.
when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.
“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.” 
if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.
it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it. 
peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.
“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.
“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin. 
he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.
in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.
“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”
once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.
it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either. 
peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.
“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back. 
“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”
“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”
for the first time, you felt wanted. 
peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust. 
after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.
“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”
“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.
it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.
but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.
this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.
dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth. 
this was so much fucking better. 
“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.
seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.
“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.
you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.
with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you. 
dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips. 
“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.
he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.
“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants. 
“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.
“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off. 
“we’re good teachers, pete.
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nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
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classyrbf · 2 months
Note
ma’am please give me more ex-husband gojo 😫😫
MY PRETTY (EX) WIFE! — GOJO SATORU
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SYNOPSIS...your ex husband gojo gets word of your date with some other guy and goes out of his way to pay you a visit while you’re getting ready
INFO...ex husband!gojo x fem!reader, you and gojo have a kid, possessiveness, jealously, groping, grinding, pet names (pretty wife, baby), fucking you from behind over the sink, hair pulling, love-bomb, talks of giving you another kid, breeding, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thank you for the request anon!
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Your ex husband Gojo is an absolute menace when it comes to your dating life. Somehow he ends figuring out that you’re talking to/seeing some guy. How’d he find out? Probably paid suguru to spy on you to be honest. But besides all that, he will go out of his way to ruin your dating life and it absolutely pisses you off. He’d show up to your house thirty minutes before your date, using the spare key that he still (somehow) had to make his way in. No surprise that you were absolutely startled to see him appear in the mirror behind you as you were applying your mascara. His eyes scan over you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, you’re all dolled up over some mediocre man that could never be him. Your nails and toes are painted the same color, your hair is freshly done, and the dress you were wearing was one of Gojo’s favorites.
“What are you doing here?” You huff, closing your mascara and placing it back in your bag.
“Came to visit, had some free time.” He leaned against the door frame.
“Free time?” You turn towards him. “You were supposed to watch our daughter, Gojo.” You turn back around, searching in your bag for your lip liner.
“Don’t worry! She’s with aunt Shoko.” He smiles. “Plus, I heard you had a little date tonight. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
You exhale in annoyance, knowing that you’ll never be able to live a peaceful life if your one and only ex husband is breathing down your neck and figuring out everything about you, watching your every move. “Yeah, so? Aren’t I allowed to have a little free time of my own?”
“Of course you are, sweetheart. As the mother of my kid, you’re allowed whatever you want. Don’t worry too much, I have a date of my own, so I won’t be in your hair too much longer.” He was lying straight through his teeth, watching your face in the mirror intently to see if he could catch a glimpse of any jealousy.
“Congrats,” you simply responded, grabbing your lipstick.
“I will say though, you look absolutely beautiful in that dress.” Gojo walked up behind you, examining the curve of your back as you leaned over the counter. “It’s my favorite.” His large palm ran up the curve, slowly, before gliding back down to the roundness of your ass.
“Gojo.” You pull his hand away, shaking your head with the roll of your eyes. “You’re not ruining this for me.” The tone of your voice came off as a warning. Yet, Gojo continued to run his hands all over your body, holding onto your waist as he pressed himself against you.
“Afraid that you’re gonna give in? There’s no shame in fucking your ex husband,” he whispered, rubbing his bulge against your ass. He pulled you back against him, a small groan leaving his lips.
You threw your lipstick back in your bag, eyes shutting as you tried to resist the temptation that was Gojo. It was so, so hard. The expensive cologne he wore filled your lungs, his sultry voice in your ear, the softness of his hands as they held onto you. Goddamnit, why does he always make you feel like this? You swore up and down that you wouldn’t fall for his tricks again and here you are, rubbing your ass on him. You look back over your shoulder, taking in his broad shoulders and tall build, the black compression shirt he was wearing defined his muscles so well. His hair so effortlessly falling along the sides of his face. What were you doing? What were you thinking? “Be quick.”
“Atta girl, that’s all you had to say.” Within seconds, he’s bunching your dress up around your hips, pulling your panties down as they fall around your ankles. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his bulbous tip tease your entrance, running it up and down your slit. You grip onto the bathroom counter as you feel him push inside of you, the stretch so deliciously intoxicating, your jaw slack. “Fuck, baby, you’re still so tight,” he lets out a mix between a groan and chuckle, hand coming down to grip onto your hips as he thrusts into you.
His thrusts are deep and fast, a sign that he’s been waiting to be inside of you, waiting to fuck you since the last time. He presses down on your lower back, pushing you down more as he angles his cock just right so he could hit your sweet spot. “F-fuck!” You gasp. “Yes! Right there!” Gojo knew you like the back of his hand, knew every one of your weaknesses and strengths, and most of all how to please you. After being your husband, it’d be a shame for him not to know how to make his pretty wife cum, right? He knows what makes you purr, he knows how to get your eyes rolling back.
“Shit, this pussy is so wet—fuck!” He grabs your leg, propping it up on the bathroom counter, wanting to be able to reach deeper, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. Gojo watches you through the mirror, taking delight in the expression on your face. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, eyes glazed over as you tried to hold back your moans, yet you were failing. His cock dragged along your velvety walls, your brain turning into mush as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
“Satoru!” You moaned, his name rolling off of your tongue so smoothly. His fingertips dug into your skin, gripping tightly as he felt you clench around him, sucking him back in every time he threatened to pull away. It was like your pussy was made for him.
“My pretty fucking wife,” he huskily whispered in your ear as he pressed his chest up against your back. His hand gripped a fistful of your hair, turning your head towards him before placing his lips on yours. He swallowed your moans as your tongues sloppily moved against each other, lips moving in sync with his. He pulled away, staring down at you with such a primal look in his eyes, one that sent shivers through your entire body. You didn’t take your eyes off of him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you basked in the feeling of pleasure. “You’re all mine. Fucking mine. Everything.”
“‘Toru,” you whined, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m close! Mmm, fuck, please don’t stop! Please, please keep fucking me!” You begged. His hips slammed against yours, lewd squelches from your pussy mixed with you and gojos moans was like something out of a porno. Each thrust had your eyes rolling back, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you as another orgasm was forced on the edge. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You screamed, body shaking against his hold as your orgasm overtook your entire self.
“That’s it, baby, cum for me. Cum around this dick. No one can fuck you like this, no one but me. Pussy was made for me.” His lips were pressed up against your ear, darting his tongue out to lick your skin. He continued his ministrations, movements becoming sloppy as he chased his own orgasm, the sheer feeling of you squeezing around him sent his brain into overdrive. “Look at me.” He gripped your chin. “You love me?” He asked, soaking up the look of your watery eyes. “Gonna have my baby again, huh? Make you a mommy.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he pounds into you.
“Yes, yes, I love you.” You nod, staring up at him with doe eyes, tears pricking the corners. “I love you.” The words are barely above a whisper.
“Fuckkk.” Those three words were all Gojo wanted to hear from you, the sound of your voice brining him closer and closer to his orgasm. “I love you too, baby.” The feverish kiss he lands on your lips sends you into a spiral, his hips moving sporadically, making your legs shake.
“Cum in me, please. I want it.” You’re breathing heavily, the consequences of your words no longer existing to you as you relish in the moment.
“Shiiit!” Gojo thrusts deeply into your once more, holding himself there as thick ropes of his cum coat your walls. “Ohhh, mmmm, fuck me!” He lets out a shaky breath, cum still spurting from the head of his cock. You whimper at the feeling of him filling you up, slowly removing himself from you. He chuckled as he watches his cum ooze out of you, dripping down to your clit before he pushes it back in with his thumb. “Goddamn, baby.” He lands a smack on your ass, squeezing it as he looks at you, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. His eyes avert to your phone, seeing that it was ringing, a name he’s never heard of displayed on the screen. “Uh oh.” He picks up your phone, seeing all the missed calls from what he assumes is your date. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
“What?” You completely blanked out, forgetting about the date you had. “Fuck.” You groan in annoyance, snatching your phone from him. “I forgot. What do I say?” You look towards Gojo for help.
“Who gives a shit. You’re with me now.” He snatches the phone back, placing it on the counter. “Let’s get in the shower, c’mon.” He pecks your lips.
“You’re so annoying,” you playfully replied, rolling your eyes with a scoff.
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leaawrites · 2 months
Text
Flowers
Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, jealous Percy, mention of Y/n
Wordcount: 2k (this is a long one)
Summary: To get her attenion Percy would even get into fights just to be healed by her.
Masterlist
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Percy has been watching her for some time since he came to Camp Half-Blood. Always finding her in a crowd of people. Always letting his eyes drift over heads he couldn’t care less about until his eyes found her face, or her back, or her hair.
Y/n, daughter of Apollo, savior of people’s life. It wasn’t that dramatic, at least for her. Y/n was never given the damaged, just the hurt. A little cut here, a bruise that had to be cooled there, a kid that had to be cared about because it had gotten sick. Never the deep cuts, the bleeding face, the broken bones. It was never that. Not after she asked to take care of those in need of it a thousand times.
Percy knew that. He saw it. At first, he thought his eyes betrayed him, that it wanted to make her look small in his eyes, so that he could save her. But it wasn’t that. His eyes didn’t betray him. It were the people that betrayed her. They didn’t care about how soft her fingers were and how gentle she would take care of the hurt. They knew she was soft, she was sweet, perfect for the small things in life in their eyes.
• • • • • • • •
All eyes turned to him, as he stepped into the infirmary. There were cuts on his face, his knuckles bruised and split open. Blood dripped down from his lips on his orange shirt. It stained the fabric, leaving a mark of the actions he made for people to believe in her.
The sun was already slowly disappearing, leading to most campers be in their cabins already.
“Oh gods, what happened to you?” Laura, a sister of Y/n, asked him, pulling him by his arm to sit him down on one of the cots.
“Nothing bad, just another fight with Clarisse,” the boy shrugged absentmindedly, his gaze searching for a certain someone.
“This girl really has to get herself together,” the red head scoffs as Percy tells her what happened.
After searching for a little longer, his eyes found her body. He smiled as she smiled. His eyes lit up seeing her this happy, a flower twirling in between her fingers. A pink lovely flower, freshly picked from the boy in front of her. A son of Demeter. Percy’s gaze went sour as he saw that she was smiling at him. The red of her cheeks made him want to paint her face in a different color.
“They’re not dating,” Laura spoke, as she saw Percy watching Y/n. It wasn’t a surprise to her that he liked her. Laura knew her sister, she was amazing.
“I don’t care.” The boy quickly covered his jealous eyes with a nonchalant lie. Still they betrayed him, as his gaze found her again.
“Sure, you don’t.” She chuckled.
A loud whistle was heard from Laura’s mouth, making the whole room look at her. Percy saw her hand call for someone across the room and before he could process what she was doing, a bundle of sunshine appeared in front of him.
“What is it?” Y/n smiled at Laura, the flower steady in her hands.
“Can you take care of Percy here? I’ve got to go, Will just called me over,” Laura explained, pointing to a direction where Will apparently was.
“Sure,” she said back and then Laura was gone. Leaving the two alone, Percy cursed and thanked her at the same time. “What have you done to get in such trouble again?” Y/n was well aware of Percy’s reputation around camp. She knew that he was always on the lookout for danger.
“I haven’t done anything, first of all,” Percy defended himself.
Y/n hummed in sarcastic agreement, before her voice got lower and a sweet tone escaped from her lungs. The feeling of her skin against his made me Percy shiver in his bones. A sweet laugh appeared in between the humming when she felt Percy’s body shake as she brushed her hand against his face.
The cuts were healed, but the dried blood still decorated his face like a stamp of shame. When he was attacked by Clarisse, after he provoked her to do it, he didn’t fight back. When Poseidon wanted to rescue him he told him off. Running from the water, not wanting to be healed by a simple touch of water on his skin. Y/n took a cloth from one of the stacks, wetting it under the water to wash his shame away.
When Y/n approached Percy again, she couldn’t get a good look at his face. His eyes were fixed on his fidgeting hands, one finger tapping against his leg. A small touch and his face shot up to her. Y/n was laying her finger and his chin, softly touching his jaw to keep him in place as she brushed the cloth over his face, like he was her most precious painting that she still had to finish.
The silence between the two laid over them like a blanket over a child that tried to hide from the monster under his bed. The air around them was warm and comforting, they were wrapped in each others presence, but they couldn’t breath normally. It was stuffy, and suppressing them from being able to breath in properly. Her breath was warm against his face.
“That’s a nice flower,” Percy noticed, cutting the tension between them.
“It’s really nice,” the girl agreed with him, smiling at the memory of receiving it. It wasn’t about the boy who gave it to her, but rather about the gesture as it. She liked that someone cared.
“Do you like him?” His questions got bolder, as well as his tone. Percy Jackson would never admit that he was wrong. He would never agree that someone actually had him wrapped around their finger.
“I don’t know. Maybe sometime in the future,” she answered, not wanting to keep talking about it.
But Percy kept going. “Well, he certainly likes you. He cares about your happiness as it seems.”
“Why do you care?” Y/n stopped moving her hand, but held it in place to hold on to the possibility of touching him.
“I don’t.” Percy shrugged it off, his eyes going over to Laura who was watching the pair in anticipation.
Laura knew about Y/n’s slight crush on the son of Poseidon. She knew about how Y/n always wished that she could take care of the troublemaker for once. But she also knew, that the girl started to lose hope of ever being noticed by the demigod. She wanted to move on, so when a boy asked her out and later brought her a flower, she couldn’t deny his offer. Not if it meant that she showed Laura in the process of rejecting him, how she still liked the same guy for too long.
“Okay.” Percy looked back at her when the cloth moved again, a bit harsher this time. She didn’t hurt him. Percy was convinced that she could never hurt anyone. Not even her worst enemy. He saw a glistening shimmer in her eyes and the more focused look in them now that she actually looked at the task at hand and not the boy in front of her.
“What are your favorite flowers?” His question surprised her. His whole presence and interest surprised her.
“Why does it matter?” She asked back, finishing up with cleaning his face.
“What are your favorite flowers?” He asked again, a shimmer of something flickered in her eyes.
“I like Carnations,” the girl answered. She smiled at his question. Nobody asked her before, just if she liked flowers or not, or what flowers she would suggest to get someone on a first date. All these questions. But never what her favorite was.
“But these are roses,” Percy pointed out, motioning to the flower that now laid beside him. When she didn’t answer his statement, unsure of what to answer at all, he continued. “Didn’t that guy ask you about it before getting you one?”
“No,” she answered truthfully. “He only asked if I liked them and I said yes. I guess, it’s just because they aren’t that easy to get around here.”
“If a guy wouldn’t move mountains to get you even only a flower, he won’t move rocks to save your life,” Percy said, making the girl laugh at his quote. She liked the look on his face, like he was actually confused and embarrassed for that guy.
“That’s very sweet,” she said. Percy’s face turned red after he noticed how corny that sounded.
“I’m a very sweet guy,” Percy answered, holding his chin up in pride.
Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in amusement of his sudden confidence. “Oh, is that so?” She tried to play his game, but just one look into his green eyes made her swallow back the rest of her words.
“Yeah, you should go out with me instead.”
All of her assumptions about what he would say were thrown out the window after he said that. Her eyes widened a bit, her heart stopped before beating rapidly. Percy saw the color draining from her face and jumped from the cot, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he landed.
“What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, thinking something might took over her body. His hands found her waist to stabilize her body. He didn’t want her to fall to the ground inside the infirmary, like he did something to her.
“Are you playing with me?” She whispered, blinking her surprise away. Her head felt dizzy and patterns started to appear on the walls and everywhere else around her. In fear of blacking out, Y/n put her hands on Percy’s arms, tapping her finger against his skin to keep her mind occupied.
“What? No.” The boy was more worried than shocked at her assumption. Noticing her state, he called Laura over. The red head looked concerned at her friend.
“I will handle her, you should probably go,” she told Percy. He knew better than arguing in this moment, so he nodded and slowly bagged out of the big house.
When Y/n woke up the next day, Laura was already by her side. Waiting with breakfast next to her.
“Oh gods, finally, you’re awake.” Laura threw her arms around the girls body, knocking her back down on the pillow.
The morning was filled with the two girls talking about what happened after she blacked out. Laura was telling her how Percy used to look at her when he came into the infirmary, when a knock on the door sounded. Laura wandered over to the door, opening it. Her eyes lit up when she saw who was stood in the doorway.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she said to the person in front of her.
Y/n looked confused at first, not knowing who was at the door. Until a blonde teenage boy with a lanky figure was pushed into the room. Percy stood in front of her for a moment, remembering every little thing in her cabin. Her body found his gaze again and they softened for a second when he saw her messy hair and exhausted posture.
“You brought me flowers?” Y/n asked the boy, noticing the flowers in his hand.
“I did, yeah.” He walked over to her, standing beside her bed, handing the Carnations over to her.
“Thank you.” Tears began to prickle in her eyes again. She mostly hated how easily it was to get her to tear up and cry.
“Look, I’m sorry if I did anything to you or something, I don’t know. If I did, please let me know so I can change that.” Percy stopped talking when Y/n moved up to hug the boy in front of her.
“You did nothing wrong, Percy,” she assured him with her head on his shoulder. When she lifted her head up, she pecked his cheek before pulling him down to sit onto her bed.
They sat beside each other the whole day, talking and becoming closer over time. The flowers shining beside them.
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studioghibelli · 2 months
Text
the body of christ - a joel miller x reader
summary: running from a past life full of alcohol, drugs, and sex, joel miller sought repentance through the priesthood. all was going fine and dandy, until one fateful day, you found yourself in his church. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni!)
warning: priest!joel, religious trauma, age gap ( unspecified college age/50s), actually quite a bit of fluff scattered throughout, inaccurate catholic terminology, mentions of the bible and religion (obvs lmfao), so much fucking smut (semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, blowjob, pussy eating, dirty talk, overstimulation, slight mention of crying, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink, soft sir kink, soft dom!joel, sub!reader, slight mention of male masturbation, kind of guided fem masturbation??)
note: if you are deeply religious, i’d turn the other cheek to this. if catholic/religious conversations or themes disturb or trigger you, do me a favor and don’t attempt to read this. (respectfully) thanks! xx (as always this is not spellchecked bc bad bitches HATE spell checking. i'll do it eventually!! love u bitchez)
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Joel remembers the first time that you walked into his church.
Bright, innocent eyes, full of light and curiosity. They traced over each painting on the wall, each portrait, gazed upon every pew and carving etched deep into the wood, fingers grazing over in amazement.
He remembers the look that flashed across your face when his eyes met your own, the way your jaw went slack with attraction and lips parted in surprise. He watched your eyes darken, full of something that bordered dangerously close to arousal, something that shouldn't be felt in the church.
Joel would be lying if he said he hadn't felt it, too.
That tug. That magnetic pull. That incessant nagging by something deeply instinctual and primal that had since laid dormant within the cage of his ribs. Something he had not felt since his thirties, when he was still taste testing all the pleasures life had to offer. Psychedelics, parties, women, liquor.
When he looked into your eyes, he felt that unsettling feeling of attraction, the unbearably strong kind that wouldn't leave his head. Not when he was in the confessional booth, not when he was preaching the Holy Book during Mass, not when he was passing out communion or coaching on-the-brink of divorce couples about the sacrament of marriage. Never. Never, ever.
And ever since that Sunday, that haunting, looming, awful Sunday, you spent every church service diligently listening to him.
The truth be told, you had struggled with your faith for as long as you could remember. The idea of a Big Man in the sky who oversaw and overheard everything was, well, frankly quite terrifying to you.
When you were younger, you were scared God could see you undressing, scared he could hear you singing in the shower, scared he could see you exploring your body, scared he could see you lusting after boys throughout middle school.
God scared you. That's what they always preach, right? The fear of God? That it’s normal, healthy, wanted.
Oh, you certainly feared Him. The fear soon grew into shame. Shameful about each and every decision you made.
You felt shame for not settling down, insisting instead upon going to college. You felt shame for masturbating, for not only reading your favorite pieces of erotica, but for enjoying them. You felt shameful for questioning Him, for doubting Him, for letting your mind wander.
This shame lead you straight to your local priest's office.
Joel Miller.
The first time you caught his eye, you were unsure of why a man who looked like him would ever even think of becoming a priest. He was beautiful. Rugged, masculine, and charming, there was nothing about him not to love. His brown eyes were big and round, full of rich soiled Earth and swirls of wooden umber. His lips were plush and they looked soft to the touch, perfectly nestled behind a thick moustache and a thin beard with patches of gray that made your mind buzz with excitement.
Joel Miller was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, and on your search for a shame free life, you realized he was only contributing to that terrible, looming feeling.
How could he not be?
The night you first met him, you went back to your dorm and masturbated until the God damned cows came home. You must have orgasmed at least six times before you finally began snoring, lulled to sleep by the thought of his touch, what his cum would taste like, what his spit would feel like dripping down the valley of your breasts.
Oh, you craved him. You yearned for him, Jane Austen style. He was always on your mind, the thought of him lingering like a scented candle, wafting through the halls of memory in your mind.
That's how you found yourself, yet again, in his private office, hoping to seek solace from the painful prison shackles he had unknowingly burdened you with.
"Father?" You asked softly, staring at him. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose as he flipped through a book about something or another.
"Yes, Angel?'
Angel. He had always called you that. Joel gave you the nickname the first time you ever spoke, and it had followed you around like a ghost.
Angel. Angel. Angel.
Oh, how sweet it was, to think that you were his only Angel, that you were his chosen saint. Like the Renaissance portraits of the Virgin Mary, you wore the halo of his affection with pride.
"Um. Have you ever struggled with... uh, thoughts?"
Joel looked up at you behind the brim of his book, his dark eyes sparkling with the playful hint of amusement. "Well, yes. I do. In fact, I think quite often." He snickered, the Southern twang of his voice softly tugging at his syllables.
You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "N-No. I'm not talking about.... just any thoughts."
Father Miller hummed out, eyebrows furrowing together tightly as he set the leatherbound book down upon the mahogany desk. He stared at you, long, hard, as though he were searching the depths of his mind for what to say next.
"Care to elaborate any further?" Was all he asked. Your stomach clenched with nerves, and you were starting to wonder if you should have even brought it up.
You looked down at your lap, rolling the material of your skirt between your index and thumb. "Lust." You managed to croak out. "Do you struggle with it?"
"Honey, I'm a fuckin' man." The curse word made your neck snap up. You could already feel the familiar tinge of arousal searing its way through your belly, straight to your aching cunt. "Of course I feel lust. Is that what this is all about?"
You buried your face into your hands, groaning softly. "Father," you heard him hiss a soft breath of air between his lips, "I can't get away from it."
Joel reached his hand across the table, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from your anxiety laden face. "Angel girl, look at me." His voice was hushed, gentle, uncharacteristically soft. "There ain't nothin' wrong with lust."
"But the Bible-"
"Fuck the Bible."
You couldn't help but widen your eyes at what he just said. Wasn't that sacrilegious? You gulped thickly, slowly nodding at his words.
"Do you know how many times the Bible has been translated?" He asked after a long moment of thick, palpable silence.
"How many?"
"The King James Bible alone has undergone 30,000 changes. It's been rewritten in so many different languages, surely loads of it has gotten lost in translation. It's just a fuckin' book. It's paper. Trees." His thumb gently swiped across your knuckles, and that's when you remembered he was holding your hand.
Father Miller was so warm. So, so, so warm. His rough palms scratched against your own in a way that made you shiver, and his fingers laced into yours perfectly.
His fingers.
You glanced down, examining his digits. They were thick and long, and you couldn't help but wonder how they would feel buried deep inside you, how they would taste dripping with the nectar of your arousal.
You swallowed again, garnering enough courage to look up and meet his steady gaze.
"If God is real, and I'm still not all too sure about that, I don't see how he'd let us have all these.... feelin's, if they weren't right."
"That makes sense." You murmured sincerely.
"I thought maybe turnin' to the cloth would help me discover somethin' about the world. But in truth, all its done is confuse me even more. Religion is such a God damned mind fuck, you know that?" Joel's eyes lit up at the sound of your giggles, and he couldn't help the feeling of excitement that erupted within his chest.
"I don't know if.... if I can get rid of all this shame." You finally admitted after a long moment of thinking. "That's what really upsets me. The shame. The-the guilt."
"Well, I can always help with that, Angel. Just say the word."
"Help me? How?"
Joel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he inhaled a deep breath through a pair of flared nostrils. His eyes, dark and mysterious, swirling with something you had never seen within them, met your own. "Ever thought that maybe the reason you feel all that shame is because the sex you've been havin' ain't all that great? It's easy to lust, easy to get all horny lookin' at some stud on a magazine- but when you act upon it, well that's a whole 'nother issue. I bet you start worryin' about your eternal soul, whether you'll be sent straight to Hell. And I bet it's easy to feel guilty about all that shitty sex, it's easy to feel shame about wastin' a perfectly good chance of goin' to Heaven on some limp dicked little boy who don't know his hands from his feet. Am I right?"
You stared blankly, blinking rapidly and dumbfoundedly. How could he read you so well? Before you could speak, Joel started speaking again.
"But good sex? Well now... Darlin' that's an entirely different thing." The priest leaned forward, taking your hands inside of his own. Your faces were now inches apart, so close you could feel the heat of his breath fanning across your face.
You had never seen his features this close before. The faint creased lines of his forehead, the crows feet by his eyes- all of these little marks and scars, wrinkles and freckles, they made him even more handsome. Disgustingly handsome, actually, and it made you want to throw up.
Joel relished in the nerves which radiated off of you. He knew the affect he had on women, but he only cared about this so called affect he had on you. "I can make you doubt it all, Angel baby. I can fuck you so good, make you cum so hard, you'll start beggin' to go to Hell if it meant I'd be down there with you, pleasin' that little pussy of yours."
You felt dizzy, like you could genuinely pass out and fall off the chair at any moment.
How did you end up here?
Joel's index finger traced down your cheek until it reached your chin, where he grabbed it in his firm grip, guiding your gaze to meet his own. "Like I said. Just say the word, okay? My office is always open, my confessional booth is always waitin' for that pretty ass. You understand?"
"Y-Yes, father."
His eyes darkened once again, and you watched his adam’s apple bobble up and down as he swallowed. Joel stood, extending his hand as he walked you towards the door.
"Oh, and you have my number. I don't typically make house calls, but I'm more than happy to oblige you."
You were too flustered to speak, but you watched with precise eyes as he brought your small hand to his lips, pressing a searing kiss into the soft skin of your fingers.
"Have a good rest of your week, Angel."
That night, you came seven times to the thought of Joel Miller.
• • •
For two weeks you wondered if you should take him up on his offer. Univeristy work had flooded your life, making it rather difficult to do anything except go to classes, eat, and sleep. You hadn’t even had time to masturbate!
As the canvas of winter slowly started tearing, the lively chirps of Spring soon began bellowing through the air, replacing the gray clouds of February with the bright blue skies of March. That’s when you decided it was time to go and see Joel.
It was Tuesday. That meant he was working the Confessional.
Your legs were carrying you as your mind wandered with delicious thoughts of Father Miller, until you found yourself in front of the charcoal colored Cathedral, ornately designed and powerfully exuberant. You pushed open the thick wooden doors, etched with scenes of the Ascension and Crucifixion, before making your way to the Confession booth.
You slid quietly into the booth, the screen protecting your face from the person on the other side.
“Speak, my child. What do you wish to confess?” Father Miller asked in his most priestly, professional voice.
A sudden wave of confidence rushed over you. “Well, father, I’ve been a pretty bad girl.”
You heard him shifting in his seat, before a honeyed chuckle escaped from the back of his throat, gritty and intoxicating. “I was startin’ to think I scared you off, Angel.”
“Oh no, you never could. School just got in the way.” You explained softly, tracing shapes over the exposed skin of your thigh.
“What are you wearing?” He finally asked, and you began chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“A sage colored dress, a pretty strappy number. Stops in the middle of my thighs. You can see the lace of my bra, too.”
“Oh, how scandalous.” Joel snickered, feigning a sense of surprise. “I bet you look real pretty.”
“I can come over there if you want me to.”
“Oh yeah?” You could hear the smugness of his voice.
“Yeah.” You responded flirtatiously, words hot and thirsty.
“You stay over there for a few, get yourself ready for me.”
“What do you want me to do,” a breeze of bravery swirled over your chest, so you added: “Daddy?”
You heard the priest moan at the name. Through gritted teeth, he responded. “Spread those legs for me.” You did as Joel commanded, awaiting his next words. “Take off your panties and stuff them in your bra.” After a few beats, he spoke once again. “Have you done it?”
“Yes sir.” You responded cheekily, a giggle evident in your voice.
“Good girl. Touch your thighs, Angel. Brush your fingers over them, real light like.” As your nails swirled patterns into the sensitive skin on your legs, you shivered with delight.
“Now what?”
“Just keep doin’ that. Listen to my voice, darlin’. Just keep touchin’ those sexy thighs of yours.” Joel’s voice was like velvet to your ears, and you heard the zipper of his pants being pulled down.
Your breath hitched, pussy aching and sore.
“I know you’re gettin’ wet, know that little cunt is weepin’ for me.”
You moaned in response, wanting nothing more than to touch your swelling clit. “Y-yes.”
“Don’t worry, little Angel. Daddy’ll make that pussy feel real good. Do you want that?”
“P-please. Now. Please.” You were begging now, willing to do just about anything to feel his cock deep within your walls.
“Now, now.” Joel responded smugly, and you heard the movement of his arm, up and down and up and down, slowly pumping at the length of his hardened cock. You nearly wept at the thought. God, please, you just wanted to feel him. “Jacob served seven years just to see Rachel again. Surely that pussy can wait a few minutes, yeah?” You could hear the smugness dripping from his tongue, like venom on the fangs of a viper.
“Oh, shut up.” You grumbled.
“There there, now, pretty baby, don’t you worry. It will be well worth the teasin’ when I’m pumpin’ my cum in that little hole of yours.”
You hissed through your teeth in excitement, whimpering as your clit throbbed with the promise of his reward. “You promise?”
“Baby, ‘course I do. I’ve been waitin’ for a taste of your cum, you know. Since I first laid eyes on you.”
“Really?”
He chuckled at your naivety. “Oh yeah. Prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on, tha’s why I started callin’ you Angel, you know. Beauty like yours, well, that’s fuckin’ celestial.” You heard Joel grunt, no doubt from his fist wrapped around his length.
“Please.” You begged, thighs clenching together as you continued tracing lines in your skin. “Can I please move to your side?”
Joel thought for a moment, before he spoke. “Yes. Make it quick. Don’t want nobody seein’.”
You obeyed, adjusting the skirt of your dress before stepping out. The church was empty, except a few people praying before a statue of Jesus on the crucifix, backs turned to you. You slowly opened the door, finally face to face with him. You sucked in a breath of air as his appearance crashed over you, quickly shutting the door behind you.
His eyes met yours, hands dragging to your waist as he pulled you closer. Now you were standing before him. Joel leaned forward, placing his head to your chest, exposed by the low dip of your dress. You heard him inhale your perfume, before feeling his tongue flat between your breasts, licking a strip from there, to your neck, where he suckled gingerly on that sensitive spot right beneath your ear.
“God, been dreamin’ of this.” Joel whispered, kissing at your jawline softly, the scruff of his beard tickling against your skin.
“I have, too.” You admitted your secret as you grasped his shoulders, broad and muscular beneath your grip. Joel continued his assault on your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbones, teeth gently digging into your skin, as his hands wandered down to your bare thighs, hiking your skirt up slowly. His fingers dug into the soft, supple skin beneath your ass, nails gently imprinting creases on your upper thighs.
Joel pulled away, slowly removing his hands. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he suddenly grabbed your chin, a smirk playing on his face.
“Kneel.” He commanded deeply, voice thick with seriousness.
You knelt before him, tilting your head up until you were faced to face with his throbbing cock, which he had ever so politely tucked back into his tightening boxers.
“You’ve been bad. You’ve sinned.” Joel explained, running his fingers through your hair. “It’s about time you seek repentance.”
You batted your eyelashes up at him, glossy lips parting. “And how should I go about doing that, Father?” Your feigned a sense of faux innocence with your words, doe eyes wide and sparkling for him.
“The Body of Christ, you see.” Joel hummed, moving your hand to his bulge. “To partake in the body and blood of christ, the Eucharist. To…. suck, and to swallow.” He smirked down at you, eyes glittering with mischief.
“Yes sir.” You purred, slowly pulling his underwear down, until his thick, angry cock popped out, gently slapping against his belly.
“Suck on it.” Joel ordered, hand pressing to the back of your head. You smiled, leaning forward.
The mushroom of his cock pressed against your lips, his salty precum mixing with your strawberry lipgloss. You opened your mouth, lips accommodating to the sheer width of his length as you took him gently into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. You felt him shiver beneath your movements, fingers knotting tighter into your locks.
That’s when you heard the door on the other side creak open. You went to pull away, eyes wide with fear, but Joel firmly kept you in place, beckoning you to continue on with your so called repentance.
You clenched your thighs at the nature of what was going on, head popping, taking as much as you could without gagging. You didn’t want to risk making any noise.
“Hello, father.” A feminine voice on the other side of the wall spoke, and Joel clenched his jaw, gazing down at you.
He didn’t look up when he finally spoke. “Welcome, my child.” Joel’s voice was solid, unwavering, there was absolutely no hint to his tone that could possibly give away what was going on. “What is it you wish to confess?”
The woman sighed a deep huff, and you heard what seemed to be a piece of paper being unfolded. “A lot.” She admitted.
“That’s okay. God is always forgiving.”
“Amen, father.” She agreed.
Joel thumbed your cheek gently, watching your lips wrap around his cock, up and down your head went, finally growing used to the size.
His cock was perfect. Thick, veined, just the right length. It was the biggest you had ever seen in person, but then again, your previous references weren’t much to brag about. You swirled your tongue around his dick, slowly pulling away until you were faced to face with it.
Joel watched as you leaned forward, tracing the underside with the tip of your tongue. He shuddered again.
“-And then I called the cashier at Publix an idiot for ringing in my chocolate milk twice. Oh, I feel awful about that. Jerry and I- you know Jerry, don’t you? My husband? Well, he and I got into a fight. And I was taking it out on this poor teenage girl-” As the parishioner continued her rant, you realized neither of you were really paying attention.
The priest’s eyes had been blown full black at the sight of you servicing his dick, enamored with the way your soft tongue looked pressed into his skin, swirling and tracing and tasting. Your nails were digging into his thighs, straight through the cloth of his trousers, but Joel didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he liked the added bit of pain, it only added to his pleasure.
“And finally, I yelled at my kids teacher. All week he worked on this project, and she has the gaul to give him a B-! As if, he was-”
You worked his length back and forth, his tip hitting dangerously close to the back of your throat. You felt his cock tightening, straining with the promise of an oncoming orgasm. Keeping the same pace, you licked and sucked, head bobbing as his free hand came up to rest on your head.
Spurts of hot cum painted your throat as Joel began speaking to the confessor, as though on cue. “Salvation is co-oming, my child. God will forgive you, he always does.” He hid it rather well, teeth gritting as his head was thrown back, nails gently scratching into your scalp as you milked him with your mouth.
“What should I do, father? How should I repent?” She asked worriedly.
“Uh, a few Hail Mary’s or something.”
Joel wasn’t really paying attention to her. He was looking down at you as you suckled the rest of his cum from the top of his dick, hand gently patting at your head of hair. His gaze was gentle, full of some sort of admiration as he watched you clean his cock up, tongue obediently lapping up every drop of his sperm.
“Is that- is that all, father?”
“Yes.” Joel responded curtly.
“Peace be with you.” She said, before you heard the door open.
“And with you.” Joel mumbled, a love sick grin spreading across his face. He swiped a dribble of his cum off the corner of your mouth, holding it to your lips. You slowly leaned forward, licking it off his skin before pulling away with a beaming smile. “C’mere.” He whispered, patting his lap.
You straddled him, hands moving to his shoulders, before crawling up to his curls, gently running through them. You eyed the gray in his chocolate colored hair, smiling at the salt and pepper locks. God, he really was so handsome.
Joel gently kissed your knuckles, arms wrapping around your waist.
There was a knock at the door, and he stiffened.
“Father Miller, there’s to be a meeting between the bishops in five minutes. We would like you to oversee it.” A man spoke through the door, and you leaned forward into his neck to stifle a groan.
You were practically leaking onto his lap, pussy sobbing at the thought of his touch.
“Please,” you whispered in his ear, fingernail tracing down the line of stubble on his jaw. “Make me cum.”
Joel’s hands grasped ahold of your ass, and you had to try your hardest to stifle your yelp. “I’ll be there soon.” Joel snapped, and you heard the figure jogging away. He turned to you, rubbing his nose into your soft cheek. “Angel girl, I swear on my life I’ll make you cum until you cry tonight. I swear it.” You leaned into the touch of his nose, nodding slowly.
You knew he was a man of his word.
“Okay.” You murmured, albeit dejectedly. You were so turned on your could barely think straight.
Joel’s ears perked as he looked at you. “I have an idea….”
• • •
You don’t know how he talked you into it, but as you curled beneath the wide desk in his office with your legs spread and dress pulled up to your belly, you listened in on the meeting.
Joel had given you three strict rules:
1) Rub your clit for the duration of the meeting.
2) Do not, under any circumstance, stop.
3) Do NOT cum!
And so you stared up at him as the bishops talked about upcoming projects and fairs, discussing how to spend the month of March doing charity work and putting on a Spring Festival. Every so often he would glance down with a satisfied grin tugging at his lips, soaking in the picture of you rubbing at your clit.
It was the first time Joel had ever seen your pussy. Soaking, sloppy, and a drool worthy shade of pink. Your clit was swollen, begging for his tongue, and the perfect inner lips of your pussy were clenching around- unfortunately- nothing.
Your wetness was dripping down on to the floor of his office, coating your thighs with slick as you stared at him, noticing the strained bulge against his black pants. You smiled at the thought of you being the one to make him feel that way. He had cum in your mouth. He had given you his number. He had told you he could help.
You.
You, you, you.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he cared for you. The thought made your face beam, a look that Joel did not miss, despite the conversation he was taking part in.
It felt as though he were purposefully dragging the meeting out. Asking questions, giving ideas, receiving a scripture here or there. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He was right, however. Good things do indeed come to those who wait.
As time dragged on, it was becoming harder and harder to stifle your moans. You wanted to make noise for Joel. You wanted to whimper and mewl and beg and cry out for him. It was always for him, wasn’t it? You knew, he knew. All the pretty dresses, fixed up hair, perfect makeup- it was for him. In fact, deep down, you knew you hadn't been to church for the man in the sky for quite some time.
"Alright, it was a pleasure meetin’ with you all. I look forward to putting on the Spring Festival, I'll be in touch soon with the event info." Father Miller spoke professionally, calmly, as though you weren't half naked beneath his desk, touching yourself in front of him.
The door shut and locked the moment everyone had filed out, and his feet shuffled slowly towards where you sat. When your eyes met Joel's, a smile threatened the side of his mouth.
"Up, Angel. Sit on the edge of the desk for me."
You crawled out slowly, thighs slightly cramping up, before grabbing the hand he had offered and pulling yourself to your feet. You eased your ass onto the table, scooting back before spreading your legs, a shy grin falling to your face as he kept his hand tightly threaded with yours.
"Oh, honey. Look at this poor pussy. She needs me real bad, don't she?" He purred out his words with a saddened pair of eyes, sitting on his chair as he wheeled it forward, face to face with your soaking cunt. "Should I taste you?" His words were meant to tease you further, finger tracing over your inflated, tingling clit. "Should I make you feel better for being so nice and patient with me?"
"Please, daddy. Please."
Joel hummed in approval at your answer, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your pinkening bud. Before he even began sucking, you had thrown your hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, all at the simple moment of contact. He worked your little button slowly, gently sucking as his free hand ran up and down your thigh, gently giving it a squeeze as he lapped and licked.
You tangled your fingers in his curls, watching as he worked your clit masterfully, the tip of his tongue pressing gently, setting that bundle of nerves on fire perfectly.
Joel moved his palm beneath his chin, fingertips exploring the entrance of your pussy before he pushed his middle finger in straight to the hilt, searching for your G-Spot and finding it victoriously after a few short moments. You whimpered out at the first point of contact, drawing his head in closer by his hair as your hips grinded mindlessly, your back falling onto the desk. You had accidentally knocked a few things over, but admittedly neither of you cared, both wrapped up in your ecstasy as the priest worked on making you cum for him.
Joel moved his hand away from yours, instead opting to wrap it around your body, holding you tight and close to him as he ate you out. You already felt your orgasm approaching, climax chugging up that rollercoaster hill of emotion, right at the top before he added a second finger, pumping and thrusting up, right where Joel knew you needed him the most.
You groaned as he pulled away, no more contact on your clit. His umber eyes dragged up the length of your body, meeting your own. They sparkled with adoration. In that moment you were his purpose, his salvation, his religion. He worshiped the idol that was your body relentlessly, boundlessly, and knew he was done for for all eternity. If he were to burn because he fell in love with your body, so be it. Joel Miller would happily burn to have a taste of you.
His kissed your thigh, still fingering your tight cunt, eyes still locked with yours.
"You're so beautiful." He murmured, leaning forward and licking your clit slowly, tongue flat against it. He continued doing this, his eyes never leaving yours. You hadn't dared to look away, whimpering and brushing your digits through his hair as he kept up the slow, steady, perfect pace of movements. "I'm done for, you know. I'll never stop wantin' a tase of you."
You giggled breathlessly, nodding with his head cradled in your palms. "It's all yours."
"That's all I needed to hear, pretty Angel." Joel mumbled, going back to sucking on your clit as his eyes fluttered close.
That did it. The tightening string broke, your climax flooding over you as you chanted his name, grinding and bucking, body spasming with orgasmic pleasure as he kept his mouth firm on your body, continuing to lick and suck until he had lapped up every last drop of cum from your pussy. He pulled away, the lower half of his face glistening, and helped you sit up gently, hands moving to your waist as he stood up.
His cock was straining against his pants, and you cheekily grabbed the loop of his belt, bringing you close to him until his clothed bulge was pressed flush to your sensitive cunt. You shivered at the contact, gently pressing your hands on his broad, sturdy chest.
“Fuck me. Please. I need to feel you inside of me.” You whispered into his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his lobe.
Joel nodded in response, pulling away to look at you. He gently cupped your face in his calloused hands, leaning towards your slightly open mouth. The curve of his sturdy nose gently pressed into your own, lips brushing yours as your breath hitched, chests now taut with one another. He had just eaten you to the best orgasm of your life, and now your hands shook with nerves as he began kissing you, sweetly and meaningfully. It felt like home. They melded together like iron, as though your mouths were made for each other, crafted by the hands of some ethereal power with the knowledge that, one day, you two would find the other.
He drew you in closer, deepening the kiss as your fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers as it sprung out, gently hitting your bare knee. You giggled softly into his mouth, finally pulling away to eye level.
Joel grabbed your hips, lining himself up with the entrance of your cunt. His thumbs gently brushed your waist soothingly, and he let you take his cock in your hand as you guided the tip up and down the folds of your pussy, soon pressing it against your entrance. With his eyes on yours, he slowly pushed in, all the way until your clit was pressed to his stomach. He reached down, gently rubbing it, allowing you to acclimate to the sheer size of him.
"This okay?" He asked, voice gruff and raw.
"Oh, yes. It's perfect." You breathed out, throwing your arms around his neck.
Joel began to fuck you slow and deep, each time pulling all the way to the tip of his dick, before pushing himself back inside, until your clit was back against his belly. Your moans were music to his ears, guiding him like a siren song towards the ocean of your body, waves of pleasure blanketing over him as he fucked you.
Admittedly, Joel had not had sex for many years. He had no problem picking up women before the priesthood, but when he left school to become the head of a local church, he knew he had to keep himself in line. People would talk, he would be kicked out, and there would be nowhere for him to go. Ah, but for you? Well, he was willing to risk it all. You were everything he had ever dreamed for, and he wasn't going to let the time of your chance meeting ruin that.
Kind, understanding, intelligent- you were perfect, and Joel knew the moment he saw you, he would fall deeply in love with you. He had been holding off for months now, knowing that if he ever had the chance to fuck you, he would be done for, completely and totally for you. Fuck God, he didn't care about God. You were the one he wanted to worship, you were the one he wanted to sing songs for, read to, sacrifice for. You. You, you, you. You were his Heaven.
The priest was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of his name falling from your mouth, and when your eyes met, he shot you the hint of a smile.
"Thatt'a girl." He mumbled, holding you tightly. "Tha's a good girl, taking me so well. So fuckin' beautiful."
You moaned at his words, stomach tightening with the threat of your second orgasm as he continued rubbing your clit.
His cock was pounding harder now, walls fluttering and clenching against the veiny length of his dick as he fucked you like a devil. Beads of sweat were gathering at his temples, the lines of his forehead creased as he focused on you. You saw his dark eyes full of something you hadn't seen before, and if you were a foolish woman, you would say it was love.
You reached up and gently wiped the sweat away with your fingers, head falling back as his mouth latched on to your neck, suckling and marking you with proof of his devotion. You shivered as he hit against a sweet spot right beneath your ear, teeth gently digging in as he kissed and licked.
"Gonna cum soon." You murmured, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued taking you, balls slapping against your ass as he pounded, continuing the same pattern of movements that made you weak for him.
"Give it to me, honey. Cum on this cock, cum for me. Let me know who's makin' you feel this way." Joel's words were hot against your ear, his breath fanning your skin as his fingers skillfully worked your clit.
Your orgasm finally broke, but Joel didn't waver. He continued rubbing your clit despite your whimpers, fucking you harder until the only sound was his heavy breath and the slapping of skin, your moans of ecstasy hidden as you buried your face into his shoulder.
"F-fuck it's too much. Feels too good." You cried out, body shaking. Joel didn't stop, he continued rubbing you, setting something aflame within your body, pushing you towards the brink of becoming deliciously over stimulated.
"'Member how I said I was goin' to fuck you until you cried?" Joel's voice was more of a beasts than a man, deep and throaty in your ear. "I'm a man of my word, darlin'. I ain't quittin' 'till you're crying for me. You understand?"
You whimpered in response, nodding your head as he continued hitting deep within you, the tip of his cock finding your G-spot, the soft spongy part of you that made you shiver and shake. You were coming undone again, his middle finger relentless on your swelling, throbbing bud, pleasure bordering on pain as the priest before you kept taking you.
You felt your throat tightening at the feeling of his throbbing cock, until your vision went blurry, mind fuzzing at the world around you. All of your emotion came crashing down, the feeling of him rubbing your pussy, the length of his cock buried deep within your cunt.
You couldn't take it anymore.
When your third orgasm hit you, you couldn't stifle your noise. You screamed for him, head thrown back as your body spasmed. And this time, Joel did as he said- he made you cry. He watched your pretty eyes well up with tears, watching as they cascaded down your cheeks. He groaned at the sight, a beautiful portrait of pure, raw, animalistic ecstasy. Your chest was sticky with sweat, hair pressed into your forehead, and perfect eyes wet with tears.
He couldn't hold himself back. His fingers dug into your thighs as he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to yours as his own climax overtook him. Joel snarled and growled, hips jittering as his hot cum painted the walls of your cunt white. When his orgasm died down, and his mouth became much gentler on yours, you realized just how full you felt.
Full of him, full of cum, full of love.
Joel pulled away slowly, gently running his fingers down your face. "You okay?" His voice was soft, eyes sparkling down at you.
"I am, actually."
He knew you were being earnest.
You watched as he took some tissue and cleaned you up, holding on to your hands as he helped you balance yourself on the ground, knees shaking from the weight of your previous pleasure.
"There you go, good girl." Joel helped slide your panties up your legs, gently giving your ass a squeeze. He relished in the sweet sound of your giggle.
A moment of silence passed, before he took your hand. You looked up at him, and he knew now was his moment.
"Do you want to go grab some dinner?"
You had never said yes faster.
You always thought shame and guilt were integral parts of the religious experience. You always thought chastity and purity were the best ways to feel God.
But that was before Joel Miller. That was before he took your body and idolized it. That was before he pleasured you in ways no man had dared to do before. When your bodies danced as one, when your souls became tangled beneath the bed sheets, on the desk, in the confession booth, you weren't thinking of God, you weren't thinking of Heaven or Hell.
Oh, no.
You were thinking of Joel Miller, the man who you willingly and happily chose over the promise of eternal salvation. And there wasn't an ounce of shame present.
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pinkmirth · 6 months
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⸻ 𝒦ℰℰ𝒫ℰℛ!
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𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇! ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎
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reiner’s your bulking shadow, always trailing not far behind.
he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.
things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.
nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?
it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.
before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.
‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.
reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.
what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.
“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”
you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.
“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”
you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.
reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.
eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.
you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.
but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .
reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.
he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.
you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.
so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.
your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.
it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.
you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.
“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .
he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.
“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.
“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.
“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”
“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”
“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”
right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.
see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.
upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.
upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.
it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.
you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?
the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.
“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.
“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”
in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.
“oh, please do.”
being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.
there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”
“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .
“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.
mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.
“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.
experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.
“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.
“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.
“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.
by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.
reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.
as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.
“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.
“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.
you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.
“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.
he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.
“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.
reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”
not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.
he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.
“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.
“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.
“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.
“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.
reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.
“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.
“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.
“yes, tonight, rei!”
he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—
“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”
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©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧
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cassanderasblog · 3 months
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Kare no Nishikigoi
(His swimming/living jewel)
Yandere Duke!merman (Duke) x submissive!Chubby!Fem! Human reader
Warning: mention of killing , attempt to rape , Stockholm syndrome, drugging, chocking, body shaming, pregnancy, exhibitionism (not really)
Authors note: This is my New oc hope you guys would like him!!!!
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You loved water. It always made you calm. That's why you bought this small resort at the side of a beach. Your college vacations has started and you had came to this small heaven of yours.
You were a marine biologist and water attracted you since you were a small child. You were roaming around your resort cottage watching the sun drowning into the vast ocean when you heard sound of something being dragged.You reached and saw some fishermen dragging something small but big. Like big if it was a fish; but small if it wasn't. You started to walk in their direction and as soon as they saw you they threw the thing on the sand and ran away.
That made you very suspicious of them. When you reached there you saw a small child that was entangled in the fishing net.
The boy...didn't have legs..
As soon as you tried to free the child from the net you noticed something that changed your life..
He had a tail.
Now you understood why those people left the child when they saw you coming. The child was breathing. You ran to your hut bringing pair of scissors and cut the net away. Put the tail in the water you tried giving him cpr. His breath were coming back so you dip your head down to suck the water out again when your head was harshly pulled back with your hair. You saw a beautiful youngman who was looking very angry. He let your hair go and grabbed your neck painfully tight.
" What the hell do you think you are doing with my younger brother you whore????"
He was squeezing so thight that you thought you were going to die. You somehow said.
"I ... I was j.j..just t-trying to save him!!!"
You noticed the scale on this cheeks and his fin ears you started to loose you conciousness. Then you both heard the child coughing. The man threw your body on the sand hurriedly hugging the child. The child was awake. And the child looked at you. He smiled weakly and tried to reach for you but after experiencing the death you back away. The child looked teary when he said a weak.
"Thank you miss fairy for saving me."
You said nothịng when you stood up on your shaky legs looked at the man once again. He looked a little hurt when he heard what you said.
"So I think I should go now."
You left them there staggering your way to your hut shutting it and falling unconscious.
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When Caspian returned to the mansion with Cale his mood was very bad. Cale hadn't stopped crying since he saw you go away. Caspian was feeling guilty of hurting you . You just tried to help him and his little brother. Since his mother and father died in the hands of humans he had became very protective of his little brother.
Cale is his everything. And right now he was kneeling beside Cale's bed who had cried himself to sleep calling for his fairy. From that day he started to leave little gifts for you.The purple pearl jewellery, the pearl ring and necklace. It was not as if you didn't knew that the were very expensive but you don't want to die after what had happened.
You don't want to do anything with the mermaids. You always throw the gifts back in the ocean. And it makes Caspian very frustrated.
Why did you not accept his mating gifts??
Do you know how many mermaids wants him to be their mate??
Do you know He belongs to the most powerful family in the Ocean??
Do you not like the gifts he choose for you??
Why did you throw them away ??
You were strolling at the beach wearing swimsuit . when you heard some older ladies saying something about your body. That how after knowing that you body is not showable you should hide it. That swimsuits looks good on slim girls. You tried to ignore the gossips but you somewhere felt insecure about your body.
You stood up and started to walk away when you heard a gruff voice which was familiar.You saw the man who almost killed you that day in gartitude for saving his brother. But he was not in his merman form. He was wearing a boxer and wet white shirt that was clinging to his upper body.
"Who are you to tell her what to do?? In fact you are standing on my property."
"And about her body .... She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen , you old women are just jealous of her youthful body."
The ladies started to grumble but didn't said anything.When he looked into your direction your were already walking away. He ran to you and hold your wrist to stop you. You turned around and said
"If you want a thank you then thanks for saving me but I didn't asked so now we are even bye."
"Look ... Listen don't go ..I...I. I'm sorry..I was very frustrated he is my only family I had... My parents were killed by humans so thought you are hurting him... Im really Sorry... "
" See that was not so hard..."
He heard you say ....After that day he started to come and meet you regularly sometimes alone and sometimes with Cale. You started to fall for Caspian but you still knew that you should have some limitations ; as he is a noble plus a merman.
And you a fat, ugly nobody...
What you had not seen was the lust filled stare that he used to give you when you play with his brother. What you have not noticed was that the drink he usually give you ; had started to become frothy and a little salty bitter. That how when other men look into your direction he would hug tight buring his face into you shoulder.
How he was planning the perfect wedding with you decorating your bedroom making the finest wedding dress. And you didn't noticed the potion he now had started to add in your food to increase your fertility rate. In his eyes you were the most submissive and breedable thing he had ever seen. Your body was perfect for nourshing his egg inside you. And he had seen how good mother you could be when you take care of Cale. Cale today gave you a hand made beautiful pearl ring. Asking you if you will marry him when he would grow up??.
You laughed saying that till then you will be old lady.At this he asked if you could marry his older brother??You didn't said anything. Caspian who was listening everything felt himself harden when he saw you blushing at the question but didn't said anything.
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You were strolling in the midnight at the beach when two people grabbed you. The two men tore your clothes and started to touch you.
You tried screaming but they gaged you. You thought you were going to be raped. But then suddenly you opened your eyes when you heard scream from the man . You saw Caspian holding the ripped head the man. He had Killed both of them their head rolling on the sand as he lifted you up and started to walk away from the scene.
He kissed you on lips feed you something. Too shocked to understand you ate it. He took you under water to his home. You were wrapped in his coat.He set you down into the room he made for you . You hugged him crying. You begged him to make him forget everything. And he did...He pushed you on your back entering you.
Whole night he filled you again and again with his cumn and eggs. When at dawn he stopped he saw you passed out. He rubbed the bloated belly. Filled with his eggs.
And when you woke up he proposed you to marry him. Even after some denial when he particularly begged you on his knees you accepted his proposal. And with a kiss and the matting mark that he gave you suddenly after you accepted ; The deal of your fate was sealed.
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No one able to say anything they saw you.
You were shining like moon light.
The men feeling hard seeing at you healthy body wrapped beautifully in the wedding dress.The little bump making the females jealous of your fertility rate. You were looking the most beautiful among all. After kissing you and announcing that you are now the wife of the Duke. The Duchess....You couldn't help but hide your face in his chest. And then Cale came to you kissing your belly.
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You understood that Caspian always very protective of you but Cale ??Today only he almost killed a servant because he gave you tea too hot.
Yesterday he beheaded a maid who was calling you a whore that seduced the Dukes. You stomped to Caspians office angrily with your hand on your bump. You opened the gates and saw him doing Some paper work. As soon as he saw you he stood up and came towards you.
"Your are not going to say anything to him??"
"What happened my Nishikigoi??
"He is hurting people again."
"He does that because they hurted you dear come lets sit and talk.."
"I will scold him today but first lets sit and talk... Hmm??"
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And you were so full right now when he called Cale in the office saying his sister in law wanted to talk to him. Caspian nudged his nose into your neck.
"Tell him dear what do you want to say to him...??"
You weren't able to form words. You body flush and full You were sitting on his lap with his dick Inside you. Cale smiled looking at you. Your hair down and Caspian's one hand on your belly and Caspian kissing the obvious love bites that were showing on you shoulder and chest.
He shifted you a little on his lap. And you jolted while moaning a little. Hiding your face in Caspian's chest. The both men laughed ; the vibration of the laughing sending vibration to the dick making you whimper. Cale came to you around the desk and kneel down in front of you .
Your long gown hiding your modesty and the part where Caspian and you were connected.He kissed your belly rubbing his cheeks on it. He kissed your hand and looked up at you giving you the most cute puppy eyes.You couldn't help but pat him. Yes it's not his fault..
"Cale your sister in law is a little tired go attend your classes you can meet her after she wakes up."
Cale followed the order and left you two alone. Caspian lifted you up from his cock setting you down on his working desk. He spread you legs entering you again. You tried hiding your face but Caspian tied you hands together with his hair ribbon. He knew your insecurities had not left. Only if you knew just how much he needs you . Just how much he wants you, loves you , craves you.....
Just how many man he had killed just because they looked into your direction. And the prince that kissed your hand?? He buried him under his own palace grounds. You are the most precious pearl he could every had.
"Now dearest you need to help me I have work so hard for you.. our baby... Our family.. "
"Reward me."
With that he started thrusting into you And you knew he is not letting you go anytime soon.
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