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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey.

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters.

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places.

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies.

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja?

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it.

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you.

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach.

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air?

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too.

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely.

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands.

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass.

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute?

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you?

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating.

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right?

— You’re pretty.

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly.

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties.

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire.

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning.

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first.

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to.

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone, but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle.

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours.

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too.

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield?

— Stay still, ja?

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one.

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it.

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you.

— Stop, please…’s too much.

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better.

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster?

— Yes.

— Gut. Would break you in for me.

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure.

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass.

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity.

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think.

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides.

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore.

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy.

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils.

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream.

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb.

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you.

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips.

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted.

— Will you let me go?

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely.

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja?

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere

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pseudowho · 14 days

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The Wristwatch

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You had not known you were Nanami Kento's girl, until the Wristwatch Incident.

In truth, your affection had been brewing so slowly, you had not known if you were imagining it.

You had not realised you were in love with Kento, until he leaned in close, and you smelled the smoky, wood-rich warmth of him. Until you found yourself nursing stomach-dropping disappointment, if your phone pinged and it wasn't him. Until you woke up in cold sweats, the memory of the dream of his skin on yours so vivid that your heartbeat throbbed between your legs.

You couldn't accept it. It couldn't be love, when he did not love you back. And yet...that intoxicating dance continued, while your head dipped in denial...blinkered.

The extra coffee that would be slid over the desk to you, by a strong, gentle hand. The late night phonecalls, decompressing from the stress of your missions. The occasional dinner in each others' company, because, well...we both need to eat? Why not eat together?

You were afraid to label it; afraid to lose the soft skirting intimacy that you had. Nanami Kento was a hard man to gauge; alternately sincere and distant, warm and cool, closely familiar and objectively analytical. He kept you at arms' length; close enough to brush fingertips, but far enough that you could run...if you wanted. And you never did.

You had gone shopping, together, one balmy spring afternoon. You both needed new clothes...so why not together? It makes sense, really. Nothing else in it, I'm sure. Just friends. He doesn't feel that way about me, anyway.

He had insisted upon Ginza Shopping Mall. You balked at the exquisitely-expensive-upmarketness of it, but you could never deny him, for fear of losing this time together. You had perused for new earrings, your belly clenching at the many zeroes on every pricetag. He had ambled over to another counter, just browsing, and there for quite some time.

"See anything you like?" That deep-roast voice broke you out of your reverie. You looked up, into twinkling hazel eyes, and blushed. Yes, you. One of you, Kento, please and thank you.

"No," you scoffed, turning your back on the jewellery, and walking towards the shop door, "too cheap for me. I couldn't possibly be seen wearing them."

Kento laughed, slipping a box into his pocket, and walking just close enough to send your brain into a spiral. You barely functioned through lunch. Kento remained, as ever, a gentleman.

As he drove you to your door, and you bid him a flustered goodnight, you felt that same big, warm hand on your arm, holding you back to him.

"Wait," Kento insisted, "I have...something. For you. Open it when you're home." He pressed a smooth, embossed box into your hands. You could not see what it was, under the glossy paper sleeve. You opened your mouth to chastise Kento, and he interrupted smoothly.

"It's your birthday soon. Consider it an early gift. You couldn't possibly refuse...?" One raised, fine eyebrow. That cool, impassive gaze. You pouted. Sneaky old goat.

"Alright. You win this time, Kento...but I'll get you back," you had promised. He had simply smiled indulgently, stepped out to open your door, and watched you until you were inside.

With trembling hands, you slid the smooth paper cover off the box, and your stomach somersaulted.

Tag Heuer.

"No...Kento-- you didn't," you hushed to yourself, rushing to open the box.

You fumbled an exquisite silver, blue-faced women's watch out of the box. It seemed, somehow, familiar. You couldn't possibly. You knew the pricetag on these. Even the packaging was too expensive for you.

With one hand over your mouth and a pounding little heart, you sent Kento a text with shaky hands;

Nanami Kento. Absolutely not. Take it back.

A few anxious minutes, pacing, looking at the watch resting on the table and gasping each time. Three small dot dot dots...dot dot dots...and a response.

Sorry. Lost the receipt. It will look good on you.

Squeaking and grinning to yourself, you tried the watch on. You took it off. You paced. You tried it on again. You fell back onto your bed, legs kicking, and hands over your face.

Every further refusal you send to Kento, was flatly ignored. He left you on read all night.

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The next day, at work, you couldn't help but notice the looks you were receiving. They weren't bad looks, certainly, more...surprise? Happy acceptance? Knowing smiles? Each person the same; glancing to your watch, eyebrows raising, and searching your face with a grin. You didn't understand it.

Over lunch, Shoko reached over to you, a coffee in her other hand, and tapped the new watch on your wrist.

"Couples' watches now, hmm?" She smirked. You frowned, questioning. Shoko scoffed at you, as if you were playing coy, when you didn't even know the rules of the game. Shoko's smile didn't falter once.

You confronted Kento later that afternoon, dragging him into a dusty narrow corridor, and holding the watch up to him with fighting eyes.

Kento's heart burst with pride, biting his lip with a sly smile, and taking your wristwatched hand in his own. He tipped your arm back and forth, admiring the watch on your wrist from all angles, with a lovesick sigh. You suddenly recalled, with flushed cheeks, where you had seen such a similar wristwatch before.

Kento watched your mental gymnastics with a slowly growing smile. You almost caught on fire as he raised your hand to his lips, pressing an adoring kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Wondered how long you'd take to notice," Kento rumbled, eyed closed and nuzzling his nose against your fingers, "that you're my girl. And always have been."

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #pseudowho #nanami fluff #nanami headcanons #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami x y/n #nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you

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macfrog · 11 days

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sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel miller #tw pregnancy

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hopelessdazai · 1 month

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✿ 》 To Hold or Be Held?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; writing witj this many characters was scary . pls ignore any typos or errors or mischaracterisation im learning. reblogs appreciated!!

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Nikolai, Fyodor, gn!reader ( fem terms in fyodors and mentions of boobs in nikolais parts )

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; fluff, cuddles, all those nice things, nikolai being nikolai, possible mischaracterisation

dazai

dazai doesn't have a preference. he enjoys both being held and holding you for the same reason. when he's holding you, he's holding on tight - part of him is still scared you're gonna leave him if he gets too comfortable. and if you're holding him he always finds himself melting into you, his hands shakily gripping at your clothes as he smothers himself against your chest. he adores how your hands find his hair and comb through it. if he puts all his weight onto you, you can't go anywhere, right?

".. 'm sorry .. don't get up, just five more minutes. I'll be good ..- you're warm .. 'm sorry.. "

chuuya

chuuya prefers to hold. be adores the feeling of you in his arms, it makes him feel like he's protecting you from the known - blanketed by his strong embrace. he traces 'I love you's on your back knowing you're too comfortable and sleepy to know what he's writing - his thumb writes his name into your hip when you think he's just rubbing circles. little possessive things like that, just to quietly manifest that you stay with him. he can press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and tease you for being so clingy ; even though he's holding you tight too.

".. you need the bathroom? .. you can hold it, jus' stay with me for a while longer .. I love you .. pretty thing you are .."

atsushi

atsushi prefers to hold. while he won't ever deny being held, usually he finds himself pulling you on top of him to keep you in his embrace while he takes a nap. your head on his chest and his arms resting around your waist, while he gently purrs to soothe you to sleep with him. he hasn't been able to take solo naps since you've been around - and he knows you enjoy resting with him too, anyway. so what's the harm when he tugs you over to the detective agency couch and asks you to take a quick break? you've both been working hard , after all.

"let's have a quick break, okay? we can stay finish everything later .. you're gonna exhaust yourself out, sweetheart .. just 10 minutes .."

akutagawa

akutagawa prefers to be held. he'll never admit it to anyone, especially not to you. but you can see the way he relaxes and sinks into you when you wrap your arms around him. the way he takes a long exhale and his shoulders deflate as your hand traces a certain spot on his back. he likes listening to your heartbeat, he likes knowing you're alive and with him for who he is - and not what he can do. he's still learning to love and to trust, but it's a little easier when it's by your side. he hopes you wont leave him, he'll work to impress you as he grows.

".. what? no, I'm not falling asleep. you're imagining things. you .. mm .. can you do that again ?"

nikolai

nikolai doesn't have a preference. he's like a big dog, despite his size he'll absolutely lay himself on top of you and nuzzle into your chest. if you have boobs then he won't be moving for a while, so kiss your oxygen goodbye. whenever he wants to hold you, he's not really one to ask ; he'll just drag you over onto him or use a portal to drop you into his lap, then he's clinging to you and whining desperately whenever you try to leave. he's just big and clingy, but can you fault him? he finds you so comforting.

" .. where are you going? no! you can't leave .. do you not love me anymore ?.. why do you wanna leave !.. just stay with me .. thank you .."

fyodor

fyodor prefers to hold. if neither was an option, it'd most likely be that. but he regularly asks you to come sit on his lap while he works. a small whistle as he turns his chair, patting his thigh - and he'll wrap an arm around you to keep you close. he's not too affectionate, and too much touching before your marriage repulses him. but he'll learn to deal with these little moments for a while - it gives him his energy back and helps him with a little push to finish his work so you rest together.

" .. зайчик .. come here. no, I'm not finished. just come. don't be disobedient , now .. there we are. good girl."

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imasoftieforbarb · 6 months

Note

reactions and headcanons of brozone about: how would they fell about y/n having an egg?(once married ofc) sorry if too much

John Dory

Definitely hubby material

Van life with you and him?

Chef kiss

He definitely gives malewife vibes

Because he’s so used to being the responsible one

But he also deserves a break so you split all the chores in half

You surprise him with your pregnancy announcement by giving him a cup that says “worlds greatest Dad”

He’s shocked

Like he goes still and you worry- what if he doesn’t want children? It wasn’t a planned thing

And then he just scoops you up in arms and twirls you around

So many happy tears

Instantly tells everyone possible he’s gonna be a dad

That might is now his favorite mug- but he refuses to use it until the baby is born

Those chores that you split? He is now taking on all of them so you can focus on the baby

Likes to speak to the egg, honestly he’s so sweet with it

Definitely plays brozone through headphones around the egg (“John what are you doing?” “I want them to have good taste”)

Clay

He gave up his admin house for you

Y’all still live in Putt Putt village (because I say so)

Viva moves to Pop village so he goes from co runner to leader

So y’all get her room/house

Being married to Clay is so chill

He’s so sweet and literally talks about you non stop even though more often that not you’re with him whilst he’s working

He found out about the pregnancy when you gave him a mini matching green sweater romper

He was like

“Thanks! Not sure if it’ll fit me but I love it anyway!”

It takes him a moment

He leaves the room then runs back in pointing at you like he’s in law and order

“YOURE PREGNANT?!?”

You are now on permanent bed rest

Likes to baby talk to the egg and sing it songs

Buys the new furniture immediately and then starts baby proofing the house

He’s determined to give this kid the best childhood

Bruce

When he marries you, that’s when he decides to change his name to Bruce

Y’all still open the restaurant on Vaycay island

You become the cutest couple on the island so fast

BEACH WEDDING

He definitely tears up whilst reading his vows

“Oh I’m crying…” *you pass him a q-tip* “what’s a q-tip gonna do?!”

Treats you like a queen

Another malewife vibe haver

But it’s not as strong

Y’all were already planning on having a big family

So when you tell him you’re having twins by making dinner, but putting two lil high chairs by the door

He sees them

And goes WILD

“What- is that? Does that mean? TWINS?!?!”

He’s so happy, so many happy tears whilst y’all hug

“Uh- honey? Who’s watching the stove?” “Oh shit…”

Floyd

Dedicated husband fr fR

Has photos of you everywhere

Gets drunk and gets so happy when you tell him you’re his wife not his girlfriend

“THis IS myY WiFE”

Everyone knows don’t worry

Always talked about having kids but didn’t plan for it

Well he did (but only in his lil dreams)

Then one day you made his dreams come true

He got home from hanging out with Branch

(Who you’d asked to keep him distracted)

And he comes home to a really big home cooked meal

And a decorated boiled egg

He goes to eat said egg- but you tell him to break it open

“Why?” “It’s a surprise hun- I’m not supposed to tell you”

Inside is a lil parenting book called ‘daddy and I’

Silence, smile on his face

Tears rolling down his face before he stands up and walked over to you putting the book down on the table

Wraps you up in a such a soft hug that you start crying too

Peppers kisses all over your face

“You really do make my dreams come true”

Doesn’t tell his brothers immediately- wants you to himself

Makes sure you’re careful with doing everything

Just likes to lie down on the bed with you and the egg and put his hand softly on the surface (he cries a lil bit everytime)

When he eventually tells people- it’s completely by accident

#brozone #brozone x reader #trolls band together #trolls floyd #trolls Floyd x reader #brozone floyd #brozone floyd x reader #brozone john dory x reader #brozone bruce x reader #brozone clay x reader #brozone clay #trolls clay x reader #trolls jd x reader #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls bruce x reader

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doki-doki-imagines · 5 months

Text

author note: fic written a long time ago, but that is really fitting now. Hope you'll enjoy reading it!💫

“Michael is inside the locker room, you should see him.” Noa’s voice is firm, as always, even after such a big defeat, for him, it’s just like finishing a chapter, ready to start the new one, not many afterthoughts to ruin his next steps.

Michael Kaiser, your boyfriend can’t deal with defeat as well.

You enter the empty room, only your boyfriend is in, sitting in his sweat-drenched uniform, a towel covering his face.

You take uneasy steps toward his figure, he doesn’t even look up, too absorbed in his own world.

“Michael, I’m here, can you look at me?” You sit next to him, the bench creaks under your weight, you pinch the corner of the towel trying to lift it up, to finally see Michael’s face.

Your hand gets slapped away.

“Don’t even try it.” Some time ago this crude and cold voice would have swollen your eyes with tears, you would have been able to hear just the crippling hate in his voice.

Now you can hear the sad undertone and how the hate isn’t for you, but only for himself.

“What do you want to look at-“ he stands up abruptly, the bench recoil, the towel falls on the ground “At this failure! At this poor excuse of a player, walking trash-“ Michael can’t finish his phrase, broken sobs interrupt.

His blue eyes are bloodshot, the red of his makeup staining his face, sticky with dried tears. Michael is trembling, you don’t know if for sadness or anger, he is hitting his chest with his left fist, while the right hand is pinching his neck, the skin is broken, some drop of blood on his roses tattoo.

“Michael stop-“ You try to walk near your boyfriend, but he pushes you away and crouch on himself hands now covering his face

“No! You can’t understand, you don’t want to understand! This is all my life, I’m nothing- I shouldn’t even live if-“

“Michael!” You shout, finally stepping closer “Don’t you dare finish that phrase.”

It wasn’t the first time Michael got depressed after a match, but this is a peak he never reached before and it indescribably broke your heart.

He finally looks up, new tears forming in his deep blue eyes, you gently hold his cheeks with your hands, and lift his face up so you could look at him straight in the eyes.

“Your value as a person doesn’t depend on a match, no wait let me reformulate. Your value doesn’t depend on football. And don’t you dare-“ This time you are the one letting out a sigh “to say that you shouldn’t live anymore, because I can’t imagine a life without you.”

You kiss his forehead just before hugging him tight against your body, your right hand caressing his head.

Michael doesn’t reply back, he just keeps sobbing and crying on your shoulder.

“Please Michael stop crying, but I promise, losing this match won’t be your end, there will be a ton of other occasions, please Michael believe me.” You coo at him.

“O-Ok” His body still trembles under you.

“Can you look at me when you say that?” You say softly before kissing the top of his head.

He lift up from your shoulder and nod, a wobbly smile appearing on his face, his breath still being broken by sobs.

You smooch his forehead again, this time the contact last longer and he closes his eyes in relaxation, finally the sobs and sighs are slowing down and he is regaining control of his body.

“Can I kiss you even if I look like a mess?”

A small laugh escapes your lips but you nod.

“I find you handsome-“ “you look like a wet kitty, love it.” You wanted to say, but his mouth catch yours before you can finish.

His chapped lips find yours. It’s a slow dance, made of broken breaths bound by a strong love. Your right hand drying away those fresh tears, your thumb moving slow circles on his sticky cheeks, the left one finds peace in the back of his neck, scratching his little hair knowing full well he loves it.

He is way more restless, the right hand that was holding your arm to keep you as close as possible to his body find soon his way to your waist, fingers moving up and down pressing and releasing your waist like a piano key hoping to generate a new sound at every broken breath. His left one is kept firmly in the back of your head, pushing your face impossibly close to his, nose bumping, eyelashes caressing each other faces.

It’s when you feel the familiar feeling of something wet in your mouth that your mind return to reality.

“Michael, ehi-“ You put both your hands on his chest gently pushing on his pecs “I think you should take a shower.”

He looks at you with his wide blue eyes and tilts his head clearly looking at you like you just said the dumbest thing on Earth.

“Are you saying I stink?”

This time it isn’t small laughter that leaves your lips, but one of those that shakes your entire body and that makes Michael look at you with even wider eyes.

“Yes a little, but that wasn’t my main point. I think you need to take a hot shower, relax and come home with me and watch a film that neither of us is gonna finish because we’ll both fall asleep the second I press play.”

The blonde seems to think about it a little before nodding, walking towards the locker room’s showers stripping at every step for the joy of your eyes, till he disappears around the corner the sound of running water filling the room.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna join me?” Just his head pop out from behind the wall, water already dripping down his face and hair, a particular droplet following the line of his veins down his neck, skin shiny and inviting-

“Go finish your shower, there will be better times.” You see his head bending down, probably preparing his better kitty eyes to convince you “At home we’ll have all the time of this world for example.”

Michael never finished a shower so fast.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #michael keaton #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #bllk x y/n

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thebestofoneshots · 6 months

Text

touches | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 12.8 k (yeah, I don't even know how this happened, but damn do I love the final result)

Warnings: smut, teasing, dry hump*ng, finger fucking, hand job, masturbati*n, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, he literally can't take his eyes off you. His big, sexy destrous hands make you quiver.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of touch, this fic tells the story of Remus being absolutely head over heels for you and his obsession with a particular picture of you in a sundress. A picture, that unleashes his most lecherous, and debaucherous self.

Mutual Pinning, Idiots in Love, smut with a plot

sights is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You had had crushes before, but whatever this thing you had going on for Remus Lupin was something else entirely. Enticing, addicting, almost like a drug, no, not almost, Remus Lupin was most definitely like a drug to you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, you could actually tell he was coming in your direction just from the sheer scent that would hit you before his beautiful face did, and you would instantly perk up, and try to act as natural as possible when he passed by. It didn’t help that every single time he saw you he would smile so brightly, you felt like your entire world was being illuminated. He’d then walk closer to you, greet you, and place an arm over your shoulders, especially if you had to go to the same place, and most of the time you were going to the same place, the library.

You would sit across each other and no matter how much fucking attention you tried to pay to whatever book you were reading, or to whatever it was you were trying to study, you’d continuously get distracted by him. By the way he flipped the pages of his book, by the way he shifted on the chair, by the way he fucking breathed. You weren’t sure it was a crush anymore, since it started feeling like a bIoody obsession instead.

There was something about the way his rich brown eyes looked at you that made you feel so fucking high, you might have as well held the record of the person with the most feet above the ground while flying a broom.

The absolute worst part was the dreams you were having, it all started one time you were all chilling in the common room and for some reason you ended up with your feet over his lap, you didn’t even remember how it happened, but you certainly did remember how it had felt. The sly wolf had placed his stupid hot hands over your legs, and as he was talking to everyone, he started gently –and absentmindedly you assumed– rubbing small circles over your knees. And then his hand had traveled a bit upwards, just above your knee, nothing indecent really, just a stupid friendly hand, a friendly hand that was so big, and strong and dextrous that you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Even days after it happened you were still thinking about the ghost of his hands ever so present in your head. But it wasn’t until exactly one and a half weeks later, that you solidified your obsession. You had a dream in which the exact same thing happened, except this time the rest of your friends weren’t there, and Remus' hand continued to travel upwards, and upwards, until it reached the place where you had wanted it the most.

And he had done so many filthy and nasty things in your dream that when you woke up you weren’t only blushing for what had happened, but your panties had been so ruined that you had to change them before anyone noticed what had happened. Next time you saw Remus you were so fucking mortified you couldn’t even look at him in the eye.

Remus Lupin wasn’t much better either. He had thought of you as beautiful from the day he met you, stunning even, but that had been that. You were all just kids and all just friends. In fact, he thought James was weird for having a crush on 12-year-old Lily. Who has a crush when you’re 12?, he’d thought, girls are dumb and entitled.

Yeah, perhaps Remus didn’t have a crush on you from the very beginning like James had fallen for Lily, and he might have even thought he didn’t even like girls at some point, especially when he took into account his misadventures with Sirius and other boys in 5th year. But one day you were all having dinner, and then you bit into the juiciest plum he had ever seen, some of the sugary liquid spilling down from your lips as you took the fruit away from them, and something fucking snapped in Remus.

You noticed he was staring, and gave him a bright smile “This one’s insanely good, wanna bite?” you’d asked him as you pushed the deep red fruit towards his face. On the inside, it was a lighter hue of red, and Remus swallowed when he noticed the bite marks on the side of its skin, your bite marks. ”I promise you’d like it,” you said as you dangled the fruit over his face. The boy did eventually lean in and gave the fruit a bite, his nose accidentally brushing against your hand. You blinked a couple of times when he peered through his lashes at you mid-bite, really trying to swallow the nasty thoughts that came into your head.

Remus didn’t so much as manage to do that, after the bite he pulled back, placing a napkin over his mouth to clean up the sugary wetness left by the fruit, and nodded, yeah, it had been a bIoody tasty fruit “Delicious.”

“Told you,” you’d responded with a smile and gave it another bite, moaning just a little at the flavour. If Remus Lupin’s pants were already making him uncomfortable, the way you fucking ate that fruit all the way ‘till the end, could have been his elegy.

“Dеad for lusting over his friend” he imagined his grave would say, feeling miserable over having such nasty thoughts of you. When you crossed the table to tell James something about a prank, Remus didn’t think much of it, he just sank a little deeper onto the chair and placed his robes over his lap to try and mask what was actually going on. He tried imagining Dumbledore naked, and it seemed to have worked at least a little bit, but after you were done you placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned over to him with a soft smile on your face.

“I’m going to the library to go over some charms, you coming?” you asked him.

He barely managed to muster a tight-lipped smile and shook his head “I’m… I’m not feeling too good, I’ll be going to the dorms,” he somehow managed to say.

“Oh, all right,” you smiled, letting your hand draw from shoulder to shoulder, brushing just for a second over the skin of the back of his neck, and that just made another shiver run down his spine, “I’ll see you around then!” You said just before melting into the crowds of students as you left. Remus had to stay on his seat for a good 15 minutes after that.

"Moony, you’re not coming?" James asked him as he stood up and started walking with the boys.

Sirius burst out into a devilish smile “Oh he is cumming, all right!" the boy said. James didn’t get the joke, but Remus groaned and let his head fall on the table. Sirius knew now. BIoody fantastic!

Next thing Remus knew, he was getting the most random boners whenever you were around, and he felt like absolute shit. Especially since you weren’t doing anything that should be causing those kinds of reactions on him. Or at least you weren’t doing them to get him turned on. Leaning down to pick up a pencil that had fallen to the ground and flashing him with the short shorts you wore under your skirt as the two of you walked towards the library shouldn’t have gotten his cock to twitch and yet he had to lie to you and tell you to get ahead of the two since “he had forgotten something”.

He also shouldn’t have gotten a boner when you pressed yourself against him in a hug to wish him a happy birthday, or when you gave him a small kiss on the cheek after he won the Wizards’ Chess contest. To be fair, you weren’t even sure where you’d mustered up the courage for that one, since you had turned so red you had fled the place before you even noticed the small tent on his pants.

He shouldn’t have gotten one when Bins had you cross over the classroom and used you as a teacher’s assistant to write down things on the board. But he could’ve sworn your shirt was shorter that day, nothing more than a few inches, but there was definitely a lot more skin to see.

The one time he had a boner in the library because he dropped his parchment and leaned in to get it, realizing that for some reason you hadn’t worn your usual shorts and instead under your skirt he could actually see your knickers, was the time he thought it was acceptable. Especially when he did a double-take after he noticed the lacy pattern on your black underwear. Regardless it did nothing to make him not feel like a perv, even less when you leaned down on the table and gave him a rather concerned look “You okay Rem?” you asked “Did you find your parchment?”

He coughed a couple of times, thankfully the parchment had fallen a bit away from his grasp, and he somehow pointed at it. You nodded in comprehension and extended your leg to kick the parchment towards him, flashing him even more in the process. He had to avert his gaze as soon as your eyes turned back to him “thanks,” he said, voice strained, both of you were back over the table in a second.

You frowned “Sure you’re okay?” you asked again, leaning in closer with your extended hand just inches away from his face, but you pulled your hand away from him when you realized the apprehensive way he was staring at you. He was thankful, he was sure he might have cum in his pants had you actually placed your hand over his cheek the way you sometimes did.

Lily had come and get you from the library and he had just stayed there, face hidden under his arms as he cursed himself for being a perv. Then he felt a hand over his leg and almost jumped from his seat, realizing it was just Sirius.

The blue-eyed boy was looking at his friend with a knowing smile, Remus pulled back just a little “I’ve seen what’s been happening to you.”

“You haven’t seen shit,” Remus responded defensively which just got a laugh from Sirius.

“Moony, if you think I haven’t seen the way you shift in your seat whenever she’s around, or the way you subtly place your bag over your lap in class sometimes, or the way you stayed down the table for a little longer than you would in any normal situation, then–”

“–Shut it, shut it, shut it,” he said as he attempted to place his hands over Sirius, the other boy just laughed again.

“I’m here to give you advice,” the other boy said calmly as he grabbed Remus’ wrists to stop them from accidentally hitting him.

Remus eyed him suspiciously “What advice?”

“Wank it off,” Sirius said with a shrug.

Remus deadpanned “I’m not gonna,” he started and then added in a hushed tone “wank it off!”

“It’s the only solution I see, that or you tell her you have the hots for her.”

“That’s not happening either.”

“Could do it for you,” the boy shrugged again. “Seduce her and bring her onto your bed.”

“Sirius, you’re most definitely not going to seduce my crush.”

“But it’s painful to see you like this,” the other boy said, pointing at the bulge in Remus’ pants that was only now starting to subside.

“Well then don’t look!” Remus said pointedly, pulled a book from the table and started reading it. Sirius knew it was useless to say anything after that, but he also knew he had somewhat been successful, the idea had already been planted in his friend’s head.

And really, it’s not that Remus wanted to think about it, but when he got another boner over you just walking past him, he knew he had to find a solution to his problem. And, in the end, the solution found him instead. You were just walking away from the library when something dropped from your bag, “hey wait you…” he leaned over to pass it on to you, but he noticed then that it was a picture of you. You were wearing a sundress, a milkmaid sundress, pale yellow with small pink flowers, and you were smiling towards the camera as you moved and looked back at the castle behind you. He realized quickly it was Bayern, the castle you told him you had gone to visit on your last summer vacation that had a rather complicated German name he hadn’t cared to memorize.

And while the castle was definitely an impressive feat of architecture, it was half as impressive as you in that sundress. You had shown him several pictures of your trip, but you had never shown him that one, he almost felt like he had been robbed of something from not being able to see you in that dress before.

“You said something?” You asked, turning around to look at him. He quickly pocketed the small picture and shook his head, pulling the pencil he had been holding on his other hand.

“Just dropped this,” he said with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to let the guilt consume him.

“All right, see you at dinner,” you said as you turned around with a shrug and started walking away from the library.

He could feel the soft edges of the small photograph in his pockets with his hand still inside it, he was aching to get to see you in that bIoody sundress again, so after giving it some thought, that being exactly four seconds, he decided he’d have to skip class that day. Consequences be damned, he had to get to his room.

In what could easily be considered record time, Remus was already in the common room, running up the stairs and opening the door to his shared room, he walked inside and looked around, trying to make sure there was no one in there. Score, room was empty, even the bathroom. While he started walking to the bed, he started having second thoughts. “You can’t do this” a little voice in his head said “It’s wrong, you’re betraying her trust”.

Remus tried to shove those thoughts away as he continued feeling the edges of the photograph still safely tucked inside his pocket. He flipped his fingers over one of them and heard the small thump of the paper muffled by the fabric of his pants. Is it really wrong if I…? He wondered. It’s not like you had given him the picture… it's not like you had trusted him with it and he was about to do something heinous with it. In fact, he had stumbled into the picture, it had been all an accident, a coincidence, so if it were to actually wank it off with it, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, would he?

He approached his bed, he’d made a decision, he was sure, a few steps towards it and he was taking another step back, still fidgeting with his hand on the pliant photograph paper. And then he remembered the stash. He leaned under Peter’s bed –where they all kept their shit– and went straight for one of the playwizzard magazines. He started staring at the pictures of the beautiful nude witches, with their huge assets and their surprisingly hot movements. He sat down on his bed and continued staring, making sure to use a spell to lock the door as he started unzipping his pants.

But the witches were doing fucking nothing, nothing compared to what you did with 4 layers of clothing, nothing compared to his reaction to seeing you in that sundress. “Fuck!” he whispered-screamed frustrated as he threw the magazine to the floor, it falling back into place under Peter’s bed. He let himself fall on it and stared at the ceiling. The fucking photo he knew was still in his pocket weighing like led, he imagined you moving around in it, he remembered how the dress hugged your perfect soft curves from the seconds glimpse he’d gotten at it and… he felt the rush of bIood flowing downward.

“Just this once,” he said to himself as if he really thought he’d be able to stop afterwards “Just this once,” he repeated as he shut the curtains around his bed, out of shame rather than a bigger need of privacy, “just this once…” he repeated as he pulled the picture from his pocket, the back was facing him, there was a small legend on it, written in elegant cursive handwriting, your handwriting. He brushed his finger over it as he read “Neuschwanstein, Summer 1976”. So that was the name of the castle, he thought as he moved his other hand to his trousers.

He didn’t turn the picture, not yet, he hoped his imagination would be enough, he hoped that if he didn’t actually look at the picture while doing it, he’d have the moral high ground. He also knew that that was all bullshit from his own head trying to justify his actions. He started rubbing his hand over his trousers, feeling how hard the thought of you had made him. The nude witches from the magazine hadn’t done half that, it had been you.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he started rubbing, not taking himself out. Not yet, he had to engrave that picture of you deep in his brain before starting, as if it hadn’t been done the moment he spotted it on the floor of the library.

He continued to rub until he was panting and he stood up, kneeling on the bed instead of sitting down, undoing his button and pulling both his pants and briefs down in a surprisingly swift motion. He was so hard, there was already a bit of precum coming from him. He took a deep breath and placed his hands around himself, he gulped when he did, and then reached forward, flicking his finger over his tip, spreading some of the warm liquid over it, but it wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up and spit on it, using that as a lubricant as he started to move his hand up and down along his shaft. Slow at first, trying to remember the way you looked, but the more he pumped, the foggier his brain got, it was like he couldn’t hold the picture of you in his brain.

On the spur of the moment, he made a decision he thought he wouldn’t be doing that day, he really, really thought he had an ounce of self restraint until he gave up, and flipped the picture. “Fuck,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw you, he was fucking thankful the pictures couldn’t talk like portraits did. He continued to pump himself, panting as he started to thrust into his own hand instead. There was something about the movement of his hips that made it more real. He swallowed thickly as he stared at you, your dress rising ever so slightly as you twirled to see the castle behind you. It wasn’t even more than what he had seen when your skirt rode up, or what he had seen that day at the library but it was doing things to him regardless.

He grabbed a pillow and placed it in front of him, settling the picture over it carefully, still staring at your beautiful smile as he continued to thrust “so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered in between pants, she’s so bIoody stunning, how is it even possible?

His mind was filled with praises when he finally came, but he was so erratic, so sexdrunk that he didn’t even manage to catch his cum in his hand like he usually did, instead it spilled past his hands and onto the pillow he had placed in front of him, onto the photo.

When Remus managed to regain a little bit of himself and he noticed what had happened he panicked “What have I done?” he wondered as he pulled the picture up and attempted to clean the sticky hot liquid with the sleeves of his sweater –it was like he had forgotten he was a wizard altogether– but instead of helping it only spread out even more, now being all over your chest. And that, that sent another rush down his body, his gaze darkened as he stared, lips parted, not believing what was going on.

He looked down, the twitch on his cock hadn’t been his imagination, it had actually fucking happened “What the bIoody fuck!” he whispered as he went to pat himself again, he would be sore as fuck later that day, but he didn’t give a bIoody damn about it. Completely forgetting his initial worry, he went at it again, when he was done, he came even harder, over the picture again, but this time, it had been intentional. Something about ruining that dress made his brain tick. When he was done, he just let himself fall on the bed, face down, not caring to adjust his pants, only turning his pillow around so he wouldn’t be sleeping directly over his cum.

As he laid down face looking to the side, he pulled the picture from the side and stared at it, he was fucking spent, and yet he felt his cock twitch yet again as he saw your figure covered in his seed. You were fucking stunning in that dress. He fell asleep like that. Pillow with cum underneath, half-naked, and with your cum filled picture standing right next to his face.

When he woke up again, it was because he heard someone trying to open the door. He jolted awake, pulled his pants up and used his wand to clean the bottom of his pillow and some of his shirts, some of it was sticky, while other bits were just staining the sheets with a cloudy white stain. He pocketed the picture, the one he didn’t care to clean, and walked towards the door.

“Remus?” Sirius asked when he opened the door “Why weren’t you in class today?”

“I was feeling off,” Remus lied, standing right in front of Sirius and blocking his view of the bed. It was clean, really, but he had forgotten to undraw the curtains “Had a headache.”

“But we’re pretty far from that time of the month,” Sirius said casually, then he spotted the edge of the magazine under Peter’s bed, and Remus’ bed too, the one his friend had been so adamant to clock out of his view and he smiled “Should’ve told me,” he said with a smirk and pointed at the magazine “I’ve got better ones.”

Remus gasped “No I didn’t… I didn’t use that,” he shut his own mouth and cursed under his breath when he realized what he had involuntarily admitted to doing.

“No problem,” Sirius said with a smile “I was starting to worry about you and your obsessive little crush.” Remus gave him a reproachful look, Sirius just ignored it “She’s in the common room, you know? She was worried about you.”

“She was?”

“Said she was waiting for you at dinner,” Sirius responded with a shrug. Remus looked at his friend surprised and turned to the clock on the wall “It’s that fucking late?”

Sirius nodded, and smiled as he saw Remus walk past him and towards the door again “Go get her lover boy,” he said as he waved Remus goodbye with a smile.

That day, since you hadn’t seen him, you’d brought him food over, and the two of you had some snacks by the fire, you had leaned into him a little, craving his warmth since the night had gotten cold, even if it was already spring. He thought he’d be giving you your photograph back that day, but he just couldn’t, not while it was still stained with his cum, so the picture stayed. Safely in his pocket as you waved goodbye and walked up to your room with a soft smile on your face.

The picture had almost become part of his routine, whenever he was feeling too uneasy around you, or turned on for that matter, he sneaked to a private place in the castle and took matters into his own hands. At first, he was shameful for it, cheeks burning as he stared at you, but the more he did it, the less shame he felt.

Eventually though, he heard you talking to Marlene about having lost a photograph that you really liked, and that you would straight up kiss anyone who found it because you had to give it back to your mom, who said she’d get you a duplicate if you really wanted it.

Remus felt terrible, he’d been using the picture to wank while you had been looking for it because you had to give it back? That night, he shut his curtains, used muffliato all over and he did it one last time –technically a couple of them– and fell asleep staring at the picture, trying to memorize it completely, especially the dried blotches of cum and how they looked over you. Fucking pervert, he thought as he finally used his wand to clean it up, leaving it like brand new.

The next day, he approached you on your way to the library, “Hey little witch,” he said as he approached you.

You loved it when he called you names, it made you feel special. You turned around trying not to grin, which was almost your automatic reaction to hearing his voice “Hey Rem,” you responded with a smile.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he bit his bottom lip.

You gave him a surprised look and approached him “You do?” He nodded. “What is it?”

“I found something you were looking for,” he said as he pulled the picture from his pocket.

“Remus!” you said, not bothering to hide your excitement “You found my picture,” you smiled “I was worried it’d end up in the wrong hands…”

Remus averted your gaze, yeah like mine, he thought, but then turned to you with a smile, he decided to tease you “And where is my reward?” he asked with a cocky smile, you looked at him puzzled. “Didn’t you say you’d kiss whoever found it?”

You gave him a smile, not sure whether he was joking or not, but decided to oblige him, pulling him down by placing a hand on his shoulder and standing on your toes just a little before placing the smallest little peck to his cheeks “Thank you, my hero!” you said with a smile as you pulled away, a slight sarcastic tint to it.

All thought he’d asked for it, he was not expecting for you to actually go through with it. He coughed a bit and smiled, pointing at the picture as he tried to regain composure “the dress,” he said, “it looks really nice, you should wear it more often.”

And those words were all you needed for him to say, you knew you had a Hogsmade outing on the weekend, so no matter what, you’d have to find that dress. You had been rummaging through your bottomless trunk for at least an hour when Marlene finally turned to you, looking at the mess of scattered clothes all around, and noting your distressed little expression.

“What’s wrong darling, you lost something?” she asked.

“Sort of,” you said, “I’m looking for my dress.”

“Your dress? Which dress?” she asked.

You pulled the picture and handed it over to her. She took in her hands and gave you a low whistle “You look stunning, luv. Who do we want to impress?”

Your head snapped towards her with a small gasp “Impress!?”

Marlene just smiled “Come on,” she said, “you wouldn’t be looking for it so frantically if it wasn’t for the fact that you wanted to garner someone’s attention.” She sat on your bed and stared at you, head tilted “Is it Remus?” You flushed. “It is Remus!” she added excitedly.

You shook your head as you sighed, not bothering to hide it from her and nodded “he found the photo, he said the dress looked good on me.”

“Bet he did,” she said, diverted and leaned in closer to notice the slightly worn edges of the picture, she turned it around a couple of times before noticing a small rip. She shuddered and let the picture fall on the bed. Looking at you and the photo and then back at you with shock “How long did he have it?”

You shrugged in response, still dipping your head inside your trunk and pulling piece after piece of clothing “Not sure, he said he found it and brought it over.”

Marlene looked at you suspiciously, not daring to take the picture again, were you that naive? “How long was it lost?”

“‘Bout three weeks or so, I think…” you said as if it didn’t matter now that you knew where the picture was “fuck, it’s nowhere!” you whined as you continued to throw pieces of clothing behind you.

“Honey I think he…” she shut herself. And looked back at the pic, not taking in her hands again. She frowned, trying to decide whether to tell you or not.

“hmm?” you said, turning to her.

“I think you’ll look stunning in it,” she said, opting not to tell you “Come on, let me help,” she said as she stood up and walked beside you, helping you dig through the trunk until you found it. It was better if you didn’t know what he had been doing with that picture. All though, knowing you like she did, you might have been turned on by the idea anyway.

She was the one who found it, she stood with it and helped you carefully hang it on the bed as she used a steamer spell to get rid of the wrinkles. All the while you were using some levitating spells to put all the clothes back on the trunk. You’d told her you’d make sure to clean it up later.

The boys were already at “The Three Broomsticks” since they had promised to get in ahead of you to find a table. And you had promised Lily you’d go to the hair stylist with her. You weren’t there to get anything done, but somehow she convinced you to let them style your hair in a nice way. She thought a bit of extra magic would look really nice with your dress “So you can woe Remus.” she’d said. As Remus needed anything other than your sole existence to be wooed.

When you were both done, her red locks were perfectly done up and cut, your own hair styled in a way that you looked just like a princess, the two of you finally walked towards the spot you always shared with the boys. Marlene, and Mary were already there. Marlene was talking about Quidditch with James and they were waiting for you to ask you some things before the next match in a couple of weeks while Remus and Sirius were talking about something else.

Sirius was the one who spotted you come in through the door, and him being Sirius, whistled shamelessly, garnering the attention of every single person in the table, and even some from other people around them “Look at them go, you look stunning girls!”

Remus was about to reprimand Sirius for his crassness when he turned to see you. And when he noticed exactly what you were wearing, his mouth went dry, a rush of bIood going straight down his body. He never expected to actually see you in that dress in real life. To him, it was like a dream, a fantasy, but now it was real, and it made him grow pale, and hold his breath as you walked towards them and he saw the fabric ripple around you as you walked. Is that a– the dress has a leg slit?, he thought as he stared, swallowing hard and trying to snap himself out of the trance.

Marlene noticed, of course, she noticed. And she tried to hide a snicker, by drinking some water but ended up coughing instead. Remus, who had been sitting next to her, didn’t even notice, so she hit him lightly “asshole,” she said. He turned to her rather confused. “I almost choked?”

“Oh… really? Didn’t notice… want me to get you a napkin?” He asked politely, his eyes turning to her only briefly before going to you and then back and forth.

Marlene rolled her eyes “No need, ooze at your little witch instead.” She made sure to use the nickname he had given you in a rather mocking manner.

He snapped his head towards her now, paying full attention “I wasn’t– I mean I…”

Marlene just shook her head and stood up, a wicked little smile appearing on her lips as she grabbed your shoulders “Take my spot, will you?” She said with a smile “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, that way we don’t move everyone when I’m back.”

“You sure?” you asked, catching the fact that she had been sitting next to Remus.

“Positive,” she added with a smile as she basically pushed you next to Remus and took off. You turned to her with a reproachful stance but took a deep breath and turned your head back around, rising in your seat just a little bit as you tried to accommodate the dress. The slit and the harsh way in which she had pushed you inside the booth caused one side of the dress to dip behind your leg, exposing it completely.

Remus noticed, and his gaze lingered just for a little bit before turning towards the front, glaring holes at the napkin holder as he tried to both think of a naked Dumbledore to cool down and etch the curve of your legs in his brain for later use.

Sirius, the other person at the table who knew what was going on, was a nice enough friend to hand Remus a glass of cold water. When Marlene came back, she had brought over some Butterbeer for everyone, and Lily had stood up to ask for some snacks at the counter. Marlene had sat an awful lot closer to you than she needed when she came back, with one sole purpose, to press you into Remus.

“Sorry,” You said, looking up at him when the girl laughed and you ended up shoulder to shoulder.

He looked down at you, staring with the softness he always used on you and smiled “No problem darling.”

Marlene smiled, and when she saw Frank and Alice she called them over “Sit with us guys,” she said with a wicked smile. Alice gave her a look, knowing she was up to something just by looking at her expression. So even if she originally planned a date with just Frank, she decided to pull him along.

“I’ll go get a chair,” the boy said as he approached the table.

“Don’t be silly, we all fit in here,” Sirius said when he figured out what Marlene was doing, “I’ll just sit on Prongs’ lap,” He said before the two of them accommodated, allowing Lily and to move over and subsequently for Mary to do the same, successfully making enough space for Alice to sit in there.

Remus was throwing pleading looks at his friend when Mary spoke “Careful Lils, Sirius might steal your man.”

She chuckled, “he can keep him for all I care,” she joked, James pouted in response.

“I guess I can sit on Frank’s…” Alice started.

“Don’t be ridiculous luv!” Marlene said “You’re our guest,” she said, “(Y/N) can sit on Remus’ lap.” You threw her a look, and she just gave you an expectant smile.

“Well as long as it doesn’t bother you,” you said, turning to Remus who swallowed but shook his head. Sirius was holding his need to laugh when you kind of stood up and placed yourself over Remus’ lap. And he wanted to laugh because Remus’ face was just priceless. He had his eyes shut tight, and he might have also been holding his breath. Sirius just honestly hoped you didn’t find one of those surprises that Remus often had when you were around.

“So, what were you planning guys?” Lily asked as everyone started to get comfortable. Remus had placed his hands on the table, close enough to yours so they were brushing against each other, it made you feel butterflies.

“We were just going to have dinner and then walk around a little bit. Alice wanted to restock on her strawberry gum before going back too.”

“Yeah, we didn’t have any strong plans, what about you guys?” Alice added.

“Well Zonko’s is our mandatory spot, but we went there earlier,” Sirius responded as he pulled one of the breads from the center and split it in two, “Want some?” he asked looking at you and you nodded and handed it over, then he turned back to Alice.

You took a bit of your bread to bring it over to your mouth and turned back to them “Lils and I went to the hair salon.”

“So that’s why you both look so stunning,” Alice said, by then, Frank who had stood up earlier had brought back two other butterbeers, one for himself and the other for his fiancé.

You then turned to Remus, who you realized was grabbing onto the edge of the table “Are you okay?” you asked him, concerned. Freaking Marlene, she didn’t even consider Remus might be uncomfortable, you thought.

The boy looked at you, focusing like he had been thinking of something else and nodded “Yeah sorry, don’t know what to do with my hands,” he admitted, pulling them slightly from where they were brushing against yours.

You looked at him, and grabbed his hands in yours, pulling them towards your lap, not quite wrapping them around your waist, but almost “You can put them there, I don’t mind.”

Remus gulped but nodded. He could barely stop thinking at the way you felt pressed against him. Your legs on top of his were already enough to drive him crazy, but now his hands on top of your legs? He had to grab the butterbeer and bring it up to his lips to cool himself down again, drinking about half the bottle in one go.

You pulled another piece of bread to your mouth and realised he had been staring at your hands, mistakenly, you assumed it was because he was hungry, you grabbed another bit and hovered it just about his mouth “Want some?”

Remus just leaned in and took the piece you offered him munching on it as he tried to concentrate on the flavour. Other than the fact that he was struggling not to make it obvious how turned on he was, he thought the domesticity you were showing was overly nice.

But then you leaned in to grab another piece of bread from the far side of the table, and the smell of your hair got all the way to him, and then he looked at your soft smooth looking back that was a lot more exposed than normally and he fucked up.

When you leaned back in your place, you felt it. You almost gasped. But then realised that it must have been your imagination. Surely there was no way you leaning onto the table like that would garner such a reaction from him. Right?

Regardless, you were too curious to just let it slip by, so you repeated your action. This time you noticed his breath catch on his throat as he emitted the quietest little gasp you’d ever heard. And so when you went back to your spot, you just grabbed your bread and started munching on it as you tried to keep a straight, not completely surprised face.

You thought about not moving at all for a while, so Remus could sort out whatever was going on by himself. Really, it would have been the merciful thing to do. To freeze in your place, let him cool down and pretend it never happened. Unfortunately for him –or perhaps fortunately– you had never been merciful, not when you were playing quidditch, not when you were destroying your opponent in magic chess and you certainly wouldn’t start then.

Besides, if he really had been turned on by you and not by some other external factor, then you doing what you were about to do might have been all the proof you needed to know if Remus actually liked you back.

At first, you didn’t want to make it obvious. And pretended you hadn’t noticed his reaction to you, which had him relax, if ever so slightly. But then you leaned in again, this time to Lily, and you made a small little gesture with your hand to have her lean into you too, telling her something silly about the homework. Leaning back toward Remus and then repeating the same action while pretending you had forgotten to say something.

When you went back to your place, you pressed yourself against the boy a little harder, smiling when you realised that it must definitely have been you the one causing such a reaction in Moony. Your resolve only solidified when you felt his hands – which were still lying atop of your tights, ball into tight fists, his whole body tightening under you, in fact.

Still, the boy hadn’t noticed you were doing it on purpose and he hoped to the heavens you hadn’t noticed what was going on with him. The possibility that you thought what you were feeling was keys or something else in his pockets was at least comforting.

You smiled, almost wickedly as you thought of yet another excuse to roll your hips atop of his, “Please stop moving,” he whispered in your ears after he grabbed your arms and forced you to lean closer to him.

“Am I too heavy? Sorry…” You said aiming to stand up but going back down a second later, pretending it had been accidental. Remus cursed under his breath, feeling like shit for being so turned on over you… just existing.

“No, you– you were just squeezing my tight.” He said, voice rougher than usual.

You revelled in the reactions you were getting from him. “Oh sorry,” you said and rolled your hips to the side, his breath hitched in his throat, “This better?”

“I-“ he started, not quite being able to emit a full sentence.

You held a smile and tolled your hips to the other side “And this?” you asked, still in an innocent tone.

“fuck…”

You bit your lip to not smile, turning your body to him and leaning on one of his legs instead, placing your hand on his cheek “Are you okay?” you asked, fake concern laced in your words, he was too far gone to notice.

“Yeah, sorry I just, I feel like I should… Perhaps I can…”

“Want me to stand up?” You asked with a small pout “If I’m making you uncomfortable the just–”

“–No!” he said a little too suddenly, “I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine.” At least with your ass pressed only to only one of his tights, he was starting to relax again. Even if the slit of your dress had repeated its action from earlier and had your leg a lot more exposed than before. He noticed, and you noticed he noticed.

And so, doing the boldest thing you had ever done in your life, you spread your legs open just a wee bit more, letting the slit fall further behind and letting your leg show just a tad more. Remus swallowed thickly as he stared “discreetly”, which just made your mouth dry.

You then turned back to the front, since Peter had arrived with the food, fish and chips and some other casual dishes. You moved yourself again, this time facing the front and pressing your ass straight to his crotch. You didn’t care for pretending anymore, you wanted to see how far you could push him, so you rolled your hips against him once. Leaned down for a fry and then rolled them again, two times this time.

Remus’ breath was heavy, he was looking at you in shock, at this point he was so hard there was no way you hadn’t noticed. He saw you lean forwards, your movement different from the first time you’d done it, you were perking your ass against him, and when you leaned back you rolled your hips three times, basically grinding onto him as you did.

That’s when he realised, and the next time you leaned for a chip, he pulled his hands from your lap and wrapped them around your hips tightly before pulling you back onto him, harshly, making sure to press you against him in a way that made you gasp in shock, he leaned onto your ear “Thought I wouldn’t notice little witch?” he whispered.

Your mouth went dry, you weren’t sure anything anyone had ever told you made you feel that turned on in your life. Still, you decided to continue playing your own little game “Whatever do you mean Rem?” you asked innocently, turning your head to him, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

He chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips before pushing you down onto him again “Stop pretending, or this won’t stop till I’ve had my fill.”

Your eyes shone at the idea, you tried to roll your hips against his again but his grip was way too tight “Is that… a promise?”

Remus chuckled again before forcing your hips to roll against him again, pulling his head in a bit of an angle so he could whisper in your ear without anyone realising it, “It was a threat, but you can call it whatever you like sweetheart.”

You smiled wickedly “Then I still have no clue what you mean,” you replied with another of those innocent smiles of yours, while you pulled the dress a little bit higher.

Remus held back a groan as he looked at you, teasing him like you didn’t know any better. Like you didn’t know how many dreams of railing you in that dress he’d had in the past couple of weeks.

In the middle of your little rendezvous, Sirius noticed something was going on, it was in the way Remus was regarding you really, same stare the wolf used often, fucking famished. “Hey Moons! Didn’t you say you had to go to the castle early for that potions project of yours?” he asked, eyeing Marlene.

“Right, same one you’ve been working on, isn’t it darling? You should go together,” she said, turning to you.

Remus shot a small little sneaky smile at Padfoot and nodded “You’re right,” Remus said calmly “Both of you,” he said giving each of them a look, and then turned to you, “shall we go?”

You gulped, eyes as dark as his own “Yeah, we should.”

Frank, Marlene and Peter got off from the booth so you could both get out, you were the first one up and Remus followed, placing himself behind you so no one could see the tent in his pants, but also because he enjoyed pressing himself onto you a little too much.

You pulled your wallet and took out a couple of bills, “Remus’ is on me,” you said with a smile.

Sirius snickered when he thought, Well, he certainly will be. Which was rather similar to what Remus thought as his eyes darkened.

“If I help you with your homework will you also be paying for my butterbeer?” James teased.

You smiled “How many butterbeers do you owe me then Prongs?”

He gasped at your bold little response and you waved at everyone with a smile. Remus had placed his hand on your neck, Thumb brushing against your spine as he turned the both of you around and prompted you to move forward. Once outside you saw a small little alleyway that seemed just dark enough for the two of you “Remus, look–“

“Not there,” he said, “too dark.”

You turned to him a little surprised. “What? You want to do it out in the open then?”

He leaned over “Little witch, I haven’t been dreaming of you in that fucking dress for weeks so we end up fucking in a dark little corner where I won’t be able to see it properly.”

The shiver those words sent down your spine was unprecedented, that was until you realised exactly what he had said. Weeks? That must be a mistake. “Does that mean you had the photo for…”

“Yes, weeks,” he confirmed, not even caring to hide it anymore. “It’s clean now, don’t worry,” he added.

“What do you mean it’s…” the words died out in your mouth, you knew exactly what he meant “Remus!” you admonished, half shocked, half complaining, but totally turned on.

“Got a problem?! Don’t leave you’re fucking photos laying in the ground for anyone else to see.” He said, the fact that he was using such crass language, something he tended to avoid around you was proof enough of how out of control he was at the moment “Coud end in the wrong hands.”

You looked around “Where are you taking me?” you asked when you noticed you were walking towards the forest.

“To a place almost as beautiful as you,” he said simply. Your bIood rushed to your cheeks. Fucking Remus John Lupin, he had you and he had you bad, “you do trust me, right?” he added leaning into your ears.

This was definitely revenge for what you had done to him back at the pub. You somehow managed to nod and he smiled. The two of you walked along the forest for a couple of minutes, until you saw some light, the darkness and trees opened into a small circle, there were small floating pollen spores that you could only see when the sun hit them right, and the shadows the tall trees cast on the ground made the entire place look like it was something out of a fairy tale. Even the air… it smelled of magic. Perhaps the fairies would fly away scared after the two invaded their home, terrified of the debauchery that was about to occur… or perhaps they'd see the two of you together, looking so merry, that they would dance and party along with you, from their small little nooks hidden inside the roots of the trees.

The beauty of the place made you almost forget why you were there all together. Almost. Remus had brought you closer to him, wrapping his fingers around your waist and pressing himself onto you. He was still hard. It hadn’t been a long walk but you assumed that… Well, perhaps you didn’t know shit about male anatomy, let alone werewolf anatomy. You pressed your hips against him and he stifled a moan.

You turned around and placed your hand on his cheek again, echoing the action you had done at the pub, but this time using it to bring him down for a kiss. First, it was just a small little one on the side of his mouth, but as you were pulling away he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back in.

It started slow, he started slow. Like he was savouring every inch of your lips before pressing his tongue against them, you let your own part, and the two of them started dancing against each other. You tried to deepen the kiss, to make it faster, but Remus was slow and steady and demanding. He was not about to let you rush him through this.

No, Remus Lupin had dreamed of this moment for way too fucking long to let you be fast and desperate about it. “Remus I…” you whined.

“Shhhh little witch…” he coed “We need to take our time, make sure you’re ready–“

“I am ready,” you said as you pulled his hand from your neck and dragged it towards your core, when his fingers brushed over your wet panties he could not stop the curse that slipped through his mouth.

“So fucking wet already. And just for the kissing–”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s been like that since the pub.”

Remus chuckled, diverted at your boldness before he stared at you, at the dress again. Half of him wanted to rip it apart to see all of you, but the other one, the one that had made him fuck himself into his own hands so many times, wanted you to keep it on. He wanted to fuck you in that dress until it was filled with grass and dirt and cum. He wanted to fucking ruin you. You weren’t making it easy for him to hold back either.

You noticed the way he was staring and placed your hand on the back of the dress, starting to unzip it when he placed his hands over yours and dragged them away from it, pulling the zipper back up and whispering in your ear “Keep it on.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

“What? But… you won’t be able to– Will it be enough?”

Remus looked at you in disbelief, raising his eyebrows as he nodded towards the tent in his pants “More than fucking enough.” He pulled you back in towards him, gliding his hands down your tights and sliding one of them through the slit, “I didn’t know the dress had a slit when I was using it to get off,” he whispered, hot breath against your ear making you shiver, you were about to crumble onto him “I imagine I would have… let my imagination run wild with it.”

“Let your imagination run with it now,” you replied and pulled on his hair to bring him back to your mouth. He groaned at the harsh movement, and you almost fucking melted into him after he made that sound. “Remus! You’re too tall,” you complained in between kisses and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders to bring him further down. He smiled onto the kiss, but allowed you to push him down until you were both kneeling on the soft mossy grass. He was still too fucking tall “sit.”

“Sit?” he asked diverted, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Yes, sit,” you said again, pushing him on the chest just hard enough to have him tumble back, ass on the ground as he stared at you, amusement evident on his face. Of course, had Remus actually wanted to stay up, your small little blow to his chest wouldn’t have done shit, but he liked how desperate you were.

He looked up at you, still on your knees as you looked back at him, eyes blown with lust “I like it when you take charge like this,” he joked.

You scoffed diverted “Shut the fuck up Moony, I’ll–“

“Make me,” he interrupted you, brattily.

How many fucking romance novels had this boy read? “I’m sorry?”

He just smiled wider, he knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was getting a kick out of it. “I said… make me.”

You wanted to scoff, but instead, you climbed on top of him pressing yourself against his cock and leaning in for a kiss, but not allowing your lips to touch. It’s what he wanted, really. You knew because you had probably read those same novels. Instead, you rocked your hips into his, and he gasped. Remus leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and brushed your cheeks through his as you leaned over to whisper in his ear, rocking your hips against his once more before speaking “You were saying?”

His mouth went dry, he was not expecting so much push and pull with you, he almost always imagined you as a little bunny he would ruin, but it seemed like you were as much of a wolf as he was, which was somehow even better, hotter, it made his whole fucking body feel like it was on fire, which was exactly what you were feeling as you felt his crotch rub straight against your wet panties. The friction making you feel things you didn’t consider possible.

“Fuck,” he whispered, which only furthered your conviction “Darling if you-“ he groaned as you ground against him yet again “keep this up, I’m not gonna– not gonna last,” he somehow managed to get out.

“Then stop me,” you said with a wicked smile. Remus pulled you back, to stare at your face, you still had that expression and he quirked one of his eyebrows. “Must I repeat myself?”

Remus scoffed, biting his lips when he felt you roll your hips against his again, which got a hiss in return. When he was sure you were okay with it, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you back on his legs, just enough so you wouldn’t be able to continue grinding against his crotch. And then he lifted you up with remarkable ease before laying you on the mossy grass floor.

Your hair sprawled around your face, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes so blown with lust they almost looked black, he wasn’t sure you’d ever looked prettier in his life. He hovered over you and you opened your legs for him, pulling them up to try and chase his, but he pulled them back, you gave him a desperate pout. Which made you look even more adorable.

Remus placed one of his hands on your hips to hold them down and brought the other one to your legs, he was taking his sweet time as he brushed it over your leg, savouring the feeling of your soft skin against his hands, pressing lightly as he brushed over your calves and brushing your inner thigh with utmost care, you felt like you were at the common room all over again. The recurrent dream you had coming back to you in an instant.

“Remus,” you whined, as you tried to push your hips up only to be stopped by his dextrous hands. You heard him chuckle, voice hoarse still.

“Let me enjoy the view darling, you don’t know how pretty you look right now.”

“Well, enjoy while touching,” you said, pulling the dress as far as you could and placing your hand over the one on your hips to bring it down to your core.

There was no shame in your movements, there was no fear, you’d let him touch you wherever he wanted and that made Remus’ cock twitch in his pants “Perhaps you shouldn’t be putting so much trust in a wolf’s hands…” he said as he rubbed his thumb over your wet underwear. Failing to keep up his smug grin when he realised just how wetter you’d gotten them, the small little surprise eased a smile on his face. And since you were looking so attentively at it –at his beautiful, perfect, licentious face– you noticed.

Deciding to tease him further you rolled your hips against his thumb, feeling the way the rest of them pressed against the top of your slit, warm and kind, even as they pushed you back down again with relatively strong force “Maybe you’re just a sheep in a wolf’s skin,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Isn’t that saying meant to be the other way around?”

You started to laugh, easily being shut up by his thumb sliding to the side and back again, this time dipping inside your panties and rubbing through your hole “Shit,” you breathed.

Remus smiled, realising how much you whimpered when one of his scars brushed against your clit. He tortured you with it for a few seconds before he pressed his thumb against it, earning a gasp from you. “A sheep in a wolf’s skin, eh?” he asked as he loomed over you, one hand still on your clit and the other one to prompt himself up, looking at your elated little face, and the microexpressions you made whenever he did something right.

You managed to somehow regain back focus, just enough to smirk in between a moan, “just a sheep,” you repeated. And he inserted a digit against you. You gasped again.

But he was just as shocked as you were, “So tight,” he whispered, “It’s not going to fit…” he said more to himself. You pushed your hips against his finger, wanting to feel some fiction.

“It will,” you reassured “Please Remus…” you begged then.

He almost came there and then. You were pleading for him to continue, fucking pleading. He complied. He started moving his finger inside and out, careful and soft at first, like he didn’t want to hurt you, keeping his eyes trained on your face to make sure you were okay as he dug deeper inside you. Your face was dazed in pleasure, almost too far gone when you felt another finger.

You frowned, and he stopped moving “Hurts?” he asked concerned laced in his tone.

You took a deep breath “No… just, give me a second…” You said as you tried to adjust to the feeling. After just a couple more seconds, it was you who was pushing against his fingers. You hadn’t even realised when he had pulled his thumb and replaced it with his index and middle finger, but they were longer, and they reached places they hadn’t done before. You only figured it out when he started rubbing circles against your clit like he had done at first.

And you moaned his name as he picked up the pace. The pleasure was so big you didn’t even realize he was actually preparing you, slowly moving his fingers as he rubbed and trusted so he could stretch you out, so he could actually fuck you the way he wanted.

He reached a point you hadn’t even managed to reach yourself ever before and you bit your lips so hard you drew bIood, he figured it out in a second and continued to rub against the spot until he had you wrapping your hands around his tightly, he knew you were close, so he smiled and continued pumping even as you tried to reduce the friction, which had you coming undone after a couple of seconds. Your breath was ragged, your hands loosened as you lost yourself to the pleasure. He helped you down from your high, still pumping his fingers in and out, slower now, almost painfully slow.

When he finally stopped, he pulled them out slowly and then brought his fingers straight to his mouth, and the guttural moan that escaped his lips when he wrapped them around his fingers and tasted set you ablaze yet again. You reached your hand for his crotch and started grazing your delicate fingers against him. He was still looming over you, and you smiled when his stance faltered.

You went straight to the button of his dress pants, and then pulled the zipper down, pressing your hand over his briefs, and you finally understood why he thought it wasn’t going to fit. Your fault for falling in love with such a tall boy. You heard him whimper above you and it only made your resolve strengthen, you pulled your hands inside his briefs now. When he felt your hands around him, not his rough hands- but your soft, small hands, around him he crumbled into you, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked him.

You were soft, and kind to him, at first… But you started picking up the pace when he pressed his mouth to your neck and started sucking against the soft skin, and against your collarbone, and then further enough to reach to the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you, lust filled his eyes as he leaned his cheek into your chest but he did nothing.

You were almost too far gone to realise he was asking for permission, but he used his mouth to nudge the string that tied the section that gave the “milkmaid dress” its name and you instantly understood what he wanted. You nodded and he used his mouth to pull the small little bow you had made earlier undone. Using the now-added space to trail his mouth to the valley of your breasts. You tightened the grip around him when you felt his hot breath against your nipples, and you did it again when you felt his mouth wrapped around one of them.

“fuck,” You whispered. He hummed in response, his own moans being drowned out by your soft skin, as he licked and sucked and nipped to his heart’s content. But then you did something that almost got him over the edge, and he bit your soft skin almost a little too hard. You had moved your hand up and had started to rub his tip. You might have known shit about male anatomy, but if books had taught you something, it was that, that was the most sensible part of a man’s cock. From his reaction, it was just the same for a werewolf.

“Okay, that’s enough!” he said roughly as he pulled your hand off him and pushed it over your head, taking the other one somewhere along the way and keeping them both in place with one of his own. He was still accommodating one of his hands to carefully hold both of yours down when you chased your hips against his. He gave you an impassive look and you just repeated the action again, a teasing smile dancing on your lips. He narrowed his eyes at you and you had the nerve to shrug innocently in response, or at least attempt a shrug, since both of your hands were still stretched over your head.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he used his free hands to tug your underwear down. The cold caused you to shiver, but it didn’t last long, he was already rubbing himself into your entrance. The feeling made you quaver, you were desperate to have him, but you also understood what he was doing. He was coating himself in your slick.

After a few more thrusts to your slick and he lined himself against your entrance. When he was ready, you pulled your hips up and his tip slewed over you and graced your already sensitive clit, you did it again, but then he pushed you down, hands digging into your flesh as he set your hips back on the grass, giving you a warning look.

You smiled teasingly and attempted to do it again, but his hands were digging against your pelvis and you barely managed to squirm under him, “please just fuck me,” you said with a pout.

“I was about to do that when you decided to tease,” he responded, a fake annoyance laced in his words. You let out a sigh but you felt him line against your entrance again. Your breath hitched in your throat and stopped squirming, allowing him to move his hand from your hips to guide himself inside.

He was slow and didn’t go all the way in at first, paying close attention to your face as he slid inside, breath heavy “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered. You were panting as well, but managed to bring your hips up to help him bury more of himself inside you, he gasped, and dug his hands back on your hips, forcing you to still. Fucking Remus and his fucking werewolf strength, you thought as you attempted to writhe.

Remus was damn thankful he had played so many scenarios in his head as he touched himself, he wasn’t sure if he would have lasted half as long as he had if he hadn’t already pictured you in so many different ways. But even with so many, he hadn’t expected you to be so damn tight. When you kept squirming, he jerked forwards, dipping himself entirely inside you.

You moaned, your face in that mix of pleasure and pain he hadn’t yet managed to decipher “You okay?” he asked to your ear, his voice a mix between a whisper and a groan.

You nodded and clenched around him in response, he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t moving because he was letting you adjust, or because he was trying not to instantly cum. You just felt so fucking good.

He could feel you breathing under him, your belly rising and falling almost alongside his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to you, so impossibly close. But you weren’t as patient. You hadn’t had as much practice with your own hand like he had, and you were desperate for him to move again. You tightened your muscles one more time. He cursed under his breath, and then you tried squirming under him.

“Please, little witch,” he begged, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for, when his head decided to cooperate he managed to speak again, still in your ear “let me adjust.”

You squirmed under him again “adjust while fucking me.”

He bit his lip, pulled back slowly and thrusted back in with a lot more strength, you gasped, but relished on the feeling of him finally moving “Such a crass language my luv,” he said in between another of those harsh trusts. You were squirming under him again, this time it wasn’t on purpose. You pulled your hands under his sweater, you wanted to feel his skin.

He faltered at that, like it was a part of him he didn’t want you to see, let alone to feel, but when your fingers started brushing over one of his scars, in such a fucking adoring way, he couldn’t help but melt into you, he was sure he’d let you do whatever the hell you’d wanted to him.

You started bucking your hips against his, meeting his rhythm as best as you could, he was still being mindful of you as he continued his thrusts, too scared to hurt you. It was only when you fastened your pace that he did the same.

You whined his name, a little more desperate now, he knew you were close but he wasn’t sure the angle was enough for you, so he leaned closer “Would you,” thrust “mind it if I–” thrust “flipped you around?”

You wrapped your hands around his hair, letting them roam over him as you brought him over for a sloppy kiss, he instantly knew that was your answer. He took you out of him, you chased your hips back to his almost unwittingly, and you saw his resolve falter, but he got it back as quickly and used his strong hands to wrap them around your hips and flip you around. You had your face against the grass, turning your neck to try and see what he was doing when he took off his sweater.

He leaned over you, you could feel his cock pressed against your ass, but he was carefully bunching the soft fabric, raising your head with his hand and cautiously placing it under your head. Fucking sheep in the skin of a wolf, you thought, he’s too freaking kind.

You were still nursing that line of thought when you felt him thrust against you again, a lot harsher now, you straight up moaned at that, and he smiled as he continued his thrusts, in and out, until you were mindlessly pushing yourself against him again. You felt one of his hands slide in between your thighs, he started rubbing circles to your clit, repeatedly. You were losing yourself to him. To his hips thrusting into yours with a lot more force, to his heavy breaths and panting, to every moan and gasp and whimper and groan he emitted. They all sounded so beautiful to you.

He continued rubbing, he was determined to make you come at least a couple of times, he had come enough to your photo, he wanted to return the favour. He realised your hips were chasing his skin and he took off the soft cotton shirt he was still wearing when he leaned over and placed his hand around your waist, pulling you up to his chest.

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he continued thrusting, you weren’t sure you’d be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried, so you just leaned in and placed sloppy kisses on his jaw, or to the section of it that you had access to now. He heard you moan when he quickened the pace of his hands on your clit, the other one still tightly around your ribs pushing you flush against him.

The feeling of his skin against your back was immeasurably perfect, you almost wished you could take off your dress to feel more of skin against you. You supposed it’d have to be for another time. You whined when he brought you to your climax yet again, the way your muscles clenched around him making him almost feral, he leaned in closer to you, “I’m going to…” he groaned into your ear.

“You can, inside if–“

“–No.”

“No?” you asked in confusion. He pulled you off of him and laid you back on the ground, still leaning over you when the first spurt of white warm liquid came out of his cock. You were still hazed, mind foggy and muddled from your orgasm but you realised what he wanted, and smiled reassuringly “It’s okay, I can buy another one.”

Remus groaned, letting his hand fall next to your head as he leaned in and continued to pump the rest of himself over you, over the dress. When he was finally done, he was so tired he wanted nothing more than to let himself fall over you, but he pulled back a little, still panting, but wanting to appreciate the mess he’d made.

You smiled at him, biting your lip, as you saw his lustful expression, your dress was coated in him, his sweat, and yours causing it to cling awkwardly to some part of your skin, but he absolutly loved it. He loved that he could practically smell himself on you, mixed in between the earthy and mossy aroma of the fores,t and the smell of sex. There was some cum near your breast, some over the left side of your waist, and some just over your entrance, that was still exposed to him. You looked even better covered with his cum than he imagined you would.

“Fucking gorgeous, wish I could take a picture,” he mumbled.

You smiled, pulling him to crash onto you, he complied, leaning his head against your chest like he had done earlier, you started brushing your fingers over his hair, especially the back of his scalp, he almost purred into your chest when you started scratching softly.

“You can keep one around the next time…” you whispered “but I’ll be taking some as well.”

He chuckled at your boldness, yet again. After what seemed like too little time but must have been close to an hour of the two of you just cuddling in the grass, you both knew you had to go back. So you stood up, Remus cleaned your dress with a swipe of his wand, almost lamenting the way his cum disappeared from it, but it had been pulled and dragged regardless. He wasn’t sure you’d be able to fix it.

“Here put this on,” He said, passing you his sweater over your arms.

You smiled as he bent back the sleeves to fit you better. And then he passed his fingers over your hair as if he was trying to make you look less sex drunk. You bit your lip “Do I not look like I’ve been railed to the heavens by a werewolf anymore?”

He chuckled, letting his hand linger on your cheek, “Thought I was a shep.”

“Hmm… You are, sometimes.” He smiled at your answer, and at your teasing smile. He stared at you for a second, he realised he was so unbearably in love with you it was absolutely insane. He wondered if you liked him a similar amount, judging by your reactions earlier, you might have.

When you leaned over to get your panties, which had been discarded somewhere over the grass, he beat you to it. You expected him to pass them over but instead, he pulled them to his face, giving them a sniff before placing them in his pocket. “Remus!” you admonished.

He shrugged, “It’s an exchange, you keep the sweater,” he responded with a rather dismissive wave of his hand.

“I never agreed to– bedsides, you're the one that ruined the dress!”

“And you’re the one that ruined the knickers, your point is?”

You scoffed, diverted at his answer and rushed towards him to try and get your underwear from his pocket but he veered off your grasp with ease, “Remus!” you said in between a snigger “You can’t expect me to go back to the castle all commando…”

He shrugged, “It'd be easier to go for another round if you did.”

You bit your lips in disbelief, and he wrapped his arms around yours, pulling you to start walking “Come on, hopefully, you’ll look less sex drunk by the time we’re back in the castle.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said as you pulled his jaw in between your hands to see his face better “You’re still all flushed.”

He shrugged “how could I not be? I have my arms around the prettiest little witch in the entire universe.”

You were sure you were the most flushed between the two after he said those words.

A/N: Did this one get out of hand in the length? Maybe... Do I love the final result? I definitely, definitely do. Remus and Reader's teasing and banter is my favourite thing ever. The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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dilfl0v3rss · 10 months

Text

quiet!choso

quiet!choso who has no problem being out by himself, but refuses to talk in any other way than a hushed tone in public. only using his regular voice at home or with family, but he still barely spoke in full sentences.

quiet!choso always looks to you to order for him. voice too deep and quiet for waiters and drive threw workers to hear him so he always just lets you do it.

“i’ll take the number five with fruit punch as the drink pleaseee.” you chirped into the receiver. pretty skirt riding up your thighs as you leaned halfway over the center console to order your food.

“okay! anything else?” the employee asked. you looked at choso, who stared deep in thought at the menu before moving his lips towards your ear. “same thing…please” you smiled at how soft spoken he was, giving him a quick peck on the cheek for his cuteness before giving the woman his order.

quiet!choso who not only speaks quietly, but moves in silence as well. there has been too many times where your soul has left your body because this man has come home from work without making a sound. just quietly changing his clothes before sitting on the couch to watch his shows.

you were in the main bathroom, just getting done with some cleaning. your earphones were playing sza softly in your ears as you hummed along to her voice. as you walked from the toilet to the shower, you glanced out the door and your heart dropped to your ass. there was a man on your couch, hood on his head as he sat comfortably watching tv. you covered your mouth from the scream that you wanted to release before quietly reaching for your phone to call your boyfriend.

since you hid in the tub, you missed the part where choso pulled his phone from his pocket, giving it a confused look before answering it. ‘why is she calling me if i’m home?’ he thought as he quietly spoke to you through the receiver. “hello?” he instantly grew worried at your shaky breaths, quietly getting up from the couch before slowly walking to where he saw you cleaning. “t-there’s a man in the house”

choso stopped in his tracks, turning around before looked around the empty living room and kitchen. “where?” he said softly walking towards the small black pistol he kept deep in the cushion of his recliner. he slowly pulled the weapon out, being as quiet as possible before walking towards your bedroom to further his inspection. “h-he in the living room. got a black hoodie on with his hood up. looks pretty big too.” choso took a deep breath, rolling his eyes as he realized his mistake. you always told him to let you know when he’s home if he doesn’t see you when he walks in the door, but of course he forgot. “mama that’s me. i’m home from work” before he could say anything else you hung up, standing up from the tub before walking out into the living room with your arms crossed.

“choso bring your ass over here right now boy!”

quiet!choso who even though is seen as an antisocial guy, goes out with you to parties and get togethers. always giving you the same quiet speech about how “a man doesn’t need a voice to keep his woman safe”.

quiet!choso who doesn’t really care what people think of him, letting his brothers and friends call him all types of names without getting irritated in the slightest.

“she already do the talking so i’m guessing she be doing to fucking too” his middle brother sukuna said with a chuckle. choso, yuji, and sukuna agreed to have “bro bonding” (clearly yuji made the name) every other weekend to “keep their relationship strong”. this time it was being held at sukuna’s cave house where the three of them ate takeout and played on the game. “kuna leave em aloneee. there’s nothing wrong with letting your woman have control” his youngest brother said, large hand outstretched on choso’s back as he gave it a small rub.

“man cut the bullshit. even yuji don’t let bitches do that shit. you should hear the sounds that be comin outta my guest room when he crashes here wit a some random broad from a party.” yuji covered his face in embarrassment, making his older brothers chuckle. choso felt if he were to tell anyone how life was at home, it would be the two knuckleheads he was raised with. a small smirk planted on his face, tattooed hands gripping his controller a little tighter as he spoke.

“if my girl ‘ran’ me, don’t you think she’d be doing whatever she wanted? when we go out, why do you think she rather sit by me than go shake her ass with her friends like she usually used t’do?” sukuna and yuji’s eyes widened, giving choso a shocked look before the two of them looked at each other.

quiet!choso who doesn’t need to talk for you to know what he’s trying to say. settling for stern looks and a tap on your thigh, ass if nobody’s looking, as a warning to get you to act right.

quiet!choso who sometimes had to use rougher tactics to correct you when you’re out of line.

“say it again” choso groaned, long girthy dick rearranging your guts as he held you up by your hair. “i w–won’t cuss at daddy” you moaned, back grazing his broad tattooed chest. wrists bound together by fuzzy grey cuffs as you dug your nails into your palms. you were so frustrated earlier that you may have let a couple curse words slip into your vocabulary while texting choso, but regardless of your instant apology, he told you to be stripped and ready for him in the bed by the time he got home from work. now you were paying for your disrespect through taking all 8.5 inches of him without complaint.

“say it louder mama. daddy can’t hear you clearly through all that moaning” choso chuckled as he listened to you whine, pretty breasts bouncing with every thrust as you tried to speak clearly for the fifth time tonight. “i won’t c-cuss at daddy ever again! fuck m’gonna cummm” he rolled his eyes, pace never faltering as he fucked you through your third orgasm of the night. choso’s inked hand abruptly let go of your hair, making a chuckle slip as he watched you fall to the bed with a huff, hands not able to stop you.

“now you cursing right at me. gon be here all night if you don’t clean it up princess”

#choso x black!reader #choso x black reader #jjk choso x black!reader #jjk choso x black reader #choso x black y/n #choso smut #jjk choso smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x black!reader #jjk choso #jjk smut

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rafeandonlyrafe · 26 days

Text

sanctuary

words: 900

warnings: scary movie, small mention of sex (actually to say nothing sexual lol), first kiss <3, soft!rafe

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you curse quietly, trying to find some way to get out of the situation. “how about the hunger games?” you interject into the conversation, kelces new girlfriend tessa shaking her head no.

“if we watch one, then we'd have to watch catching fire, then…” she trails off. “i think we all agree on hereditary.”

you simply swallow hard. you don't want to admit how much you truly hate horror movies, especially when the room is filled with your friends and their boyfriends.

you take a seat on the couch, schooching yourself as far away as possible. maybe you'll fake being asleep to get out of having to watch the scenes unfold.

you pretend to be very interested in the thread on your pants as the opening credits begin, blinking up when the spot on the cushion next to you is taken.

rafe gives you a soft smile. out of everyone in the room, he's the one you know the least, despite the movie night taking place in tanneyhill. he's friends with all your friends, but you've never made a point to hang out with him, mostly due to the crush practically every girl has on him, his charm and good looks not making you immune either.

“hey.” you say softly, smiling at him, noting that there's various other seats open, but rafe chose next to you.

“are you sleeping over?” rafe asks. a majority of the group planned to disperse among the many tanneyhill bedrooms, as the following day rafe is throwing a party, with the rest of his family being out of town, theres no reason not to take up residence inside on of the mansions many rooms.

“um, if there's an open bed.” you shrug. you drove yourself so you had the choice to go home at any moment, just in case you needed to back out.

“ill make sure there is one for you.” rafe whispers as the movie starts. you nod and give him an appreciative smile as his eyes turn towards the screen.

the opening of the movie is slow, building up to the scarier parts. you pull your knees in to your chest, trying to watch out of only one eye as the scenes get creepier and creepier.

you jump at the first scare, along with some other people but your reaction gets noticed by rafe, who places a hand on your shoulder. it almost makes you jump as much as the movie does.

“you okay?” he asks, moving closer to you.

“not a big scary movie fan.” you admit, looking rafe in the eye to avoid looking at the screen.

“oh.” rafe smiles slightly, hand going from your shoulder to wrap around you, pulling you into him in an unexpected move.

“you're not gonna make fun of me?” you question, the words slipping from your tongue before you can think out of sheer surprise.

“of course not.” rafe says, hand squeezing gently, comfortingly. “just… hide against me for the scary scenes.”

you manage to make it through the movie ducking your head against rafe, pressing your squeezed shut eyes into his chest, eventually relaxing into his grip, cuddled together on the couch as the movie finishes. his presence next to you keeps you from freaking out at the scary scenes, his strong arms never wavering from their place wrapped around you, even when popcorn is brought out and drinks are passed around.

“thank god.” you mumble when the lights get switched back on. rafe chuckles lightly, pulling you closer once more before letting you sit up with a stretch.

the couples rush quickly to their rooms, leaving a few stragglers to pick off the remaining bedrooms.

“i might just go home, rafe…” you look around tanneyhill, it's mostly dark, a majority of the lights shut off, giving the historic house a scary feel.

“ill drive you home if you want to, but if you don't want to sleep alone, my bed is open.” he says it so casually you're worried you misheard him.

“huh?”

“nothing sexual.” he shakes his head. “just sharing a bed. ill even keep a nightlight on for you.”

“really?” you giggle. you only want to go home so you don't have to be in total darkness.

“yeah.” rafe places a hand on your upper back, guiding you towards his room. there's already a light on, but he clicks an extra lamp on, illuminating the room even further.

“thanks.” you mumble. “for during the movie and for this.”

“it's my pleasure.” rafe smiles, climbing into bed, everyone having changed into their pajamas before the movie. he flips the covers back, gesturing for you to slide under them.

you keep yourself towards the edge of the bed, not wanting to invade rafes space when he's already done so much for you.

“oh come on, get over here.” rafe opens his arms up, and you smile, shuffling over to place your head on his chest, legs tangling together. the steady beat of his heart relaxes your own as you place a hand on his torso, holding back your gasp when you realize how prominently you can feel his muscles through the fabric of his shirt.

rafe kisses the top of your head. it's sweet, so different from what you're used from him. you pick your head up to look into his blue eyes.

“thank you.”

rafe leans down, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. “i mean what i said.” rafe gives them another peck. “nothing sexual tonight. but if after the party when you've had some time to think about it…”

you nod enthusiastically, a smile on both of your faces. “im sure ill find myself in your bed tomorrow night as well.”

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2hightocare · 28 days

Note

We’re jk oc deprived 😭😭😭

Any new Drabble ?

noooo I can’t seem to finish any of my works for them, there’s only like prompts of barely 500 words here’s sum for you guys🥳🥳🥳🥳

“Do you guys have triple extra-large condoms?”

“Your dick is not that big, oh please,” Yoongi bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. You can’t help but snort softly as Lora tries to figure out how many inches triple extra-large would be using her hands.

“How is that possible..?” Jimin says, laying his head down on the hotel room bed beside Taehyung, who’s been snoring away since you all arrived.

“Just because you have a small dick doesn’t mean I do,” Jungkook retorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the colorful wall of the room.

You’re all in Las Vegas, celebrating Jungkook’s and your three-year wedding anniversary. It was a spontaneous trip planned just a few hours before catching the earliest plane. None of you are new to Vegas, Taehyung, who’s lacking enthusiasm. The moment he steps foot in your and Jungkook’s hotel room, he knocks out.

The room has become the main hangout spot for everyone.

“I aspire to be as delusional as Kook,” Ari jokes from her spot on the floor in front of the mirror, curling her hair. The group bursts out laughing as Jungkook rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around your neck from behind, joining in the laughter.

Jungkook’s strong personality is one of the things that drew you to him. He always knows how to make you laugh, no matter the situation, with his random remarks and perfect timing.

“I think this is the dumbest thing ever,” Jungkook sighs, bouncing his leg where Iseul is sitting, sucking on her pink pacifier. Her two small pigtails bounce with each movement of your husband’s leg.

“She needs them, they’re literally mandatory, baby,” you lay your head on his shoulder, glancing around the clinic and noticing a brunette mom making googly eyes at your husband. Jungkook, too worried about his daughter, doesn’t even notice.

“I know, but do you not hear all the babies crying?” Jungkook says, watching Iseul giggle at his worried expression. “I’m afraid you’re worrying more than her,” you laugh, squeezing Iseul’s cheeks, making her squirm in Jungkook’s lap. “Aren’t you so cute, huh?” You coo, eliciting giggles from Iseul.

“Oh no,” Iseul pouts, pointing to the pacifier on the ground. “Oh no, it’s right, princess,” Jungkook bends over, picking up the pink pacifier and passing it to you. Iseul reaches for it eagerly, but you scrunch your face, sticking out your tongue. “Yuck,” you say, and Iseul mimics you, making Jungkook laugh at her reaction. “God, can’t believe I made such a perfect offspring,” Jungkook exclaims, showering Iseul’s face with kisses, which only makes her laugh more.

“You did not just call her offspring,” you gasp, a snort slipping past your mouth, making Jungkook laugh loudly before quieting down, realizing where you are. “Jeon Iseul?” The door opens, revealing a woman, likely the doctor’s assistant.

You and Jungkook immediately stand up, making your way to her. “Iseul?” she asks, and you confirm with a smile, interlocking your fingers with your husband’s as he holds Iseul on his other arm.

“Okay, follow me,” she says, leading you through a hallway adorned with pastel colors and animals painted on the walls, catching Iseul’s attention as she points and babbles.

“Gee-raffe!” she babbles, her baby teeth showing as she smiles at the animals. “Aw, she’s the cutest,” the assistant remarks, turning to give a warm smile to your daughter. She opens a sliding door with a giant elephant in the middle, leading you inside.

“Take a seat. Whoever’s going to hold her, please sit there,” she points to the big chair in the middle of the room. Jungkook sits, placing Iseul on his lap and adjusting her dress.

“Okay, can you tell me her birthday?” the assistant asks. “November 10th, 2022,” you answer, adjusting your cap as Jungkook pokes Iseul’s cheek.

“Okay, the doctor will be here in a few. Bye, Iseul. Nice meeting you,” she waves at your daughter, who waves back before the assistant exits the room.

“I want another one,” Jungkook whines, attacking your neck with kisses. “Baby, no,” you moan as he sucks and nips, leaving red marks on your throat.

“Please, give me another one,” your husband pouts, finally looking at you. His tattooed hand holds the base of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss as he smiles into it, making your teeth clash.

The kiss is messy, strings of saliva connecting between you both each time you separate to catch your breath. Jungkook bites your lip, making you moan into his mouth, to which he replies with a cocky smile.

“I’ll fuck you so good, baby, please,” Jungkook whines between kisses. “Please,” kiss. “Please,” another kiss. “Please,” and another.

“We can’t,” you reply between kisses. “Why the fuck not? We can do them right now,” Jungkook says, pulling you closer by your throat.

Jungkook has been wanting another kid, but as much as you want to say ‘fuck it’ and do it, you just couldn’t at the moment. You’ve been too busy with school, and the same goes for Jungkook with work, but he didn’t seem to think it through. He wanted another mini you, turning the house upside down alongside Iseul.

“Please, Iseul would love to have a brother… or sister,” he adds late, causing you to side-eye him, which only makes him smile as he nestles into your neck.

“No babies yet, let’s wait,” you happily sigh as he places a kiss on your collarbone, twirling a strand of your hair.

“So we’re not fucking?” Jungkook peeks up with a grin as you burst out laughing. “Not without protection,” you scratch the back of his head, making him moan before he rests his head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile.

“I see how it is,” you joke as you feel him shift in your arms before laying his head on your lap. “What?” you ask, placing your small palm over his face before moving it around. Jungkook sticks his tongue out, licking your palm, which has you quickly retrieving your hand.

“Ew, you’re nasty,” you scrunch your nose as he reaches for your hair, pulling gently.

“That’s nasty? You literally asked me to spit in your mo—,” before he could finish, you place your palm over his mouth again, shutting him up as his eyes widen with amusement.

“Shush,” a small giggle leaves your lips as you blush like a high school girl. You’ve known Jungkook for over ten years, and till this day, he has you giggling and kicking your feet whenever he looks at you.

“I miss your lip piercing,” you pout, squishing his cheeks with your hand as he laughs, poking your belly button with his pinky. “I do too, but Iseul literally ripped my shit,” he says, a pained expression on his face as he remembers his daughter pulling on the lip piercing with incredible force.

“Is that why you took out your ear ones too?” you ask, biting your lower lip as your finger plays with his pierced earlobe. He nods, his eyes fluttering closed as your fingers trace along his perfectly carved eyebrows.

“Well, I miss them,” you pout, tracing the outline of his lips.

“I’ll put them back on tomorrow,” he winks, making you roll your eyes before pinching his lips together.

“I still can’t believe you guys won’t add me to the group chat,” Jungkook whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“It’s only girls, so no,” Eunbi says, finishing braiding her thick blonde hair as Jungkook sends her a dirty look, which she returns.

“Namjoon is on it?” Your husband continues poking your cheek, as if that would make you add him to the group chat. But only if he knew that you weren’t even admin, and that it was Eunbi’s job to begin with.

“He’s part of the girls. He just gets us,” you give him an apologetic look, which he rolls his eyes at before scooting to the furthest edge of the couch and crossing his arms.

#ask! kuwtb💌#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jjk #bangtan #fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fic #jeon jungkook

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ficmenrhot · 4 months

Text

Finnick Odair with a praise and corruption kink/smut/

TW!: 18+ content, dom!experienced!finnick, sub!reader, corruption!kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), P in V, very brief mention of forced prostitution (Finnick), brief aftercare, that’s about it.

A/N: Ok so this initially started off as a drabble but then it kept adding on and ended up way longer than planned, hahah. Anyways, enjoy! The amount of Finnick smut is criminally low.

Minors DNI

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Finnick Odair who has a corruption kink and praise kink. You just look so innocent and pretty in your tight floral dress, clinging by his side as he greets the other victors at parties. You are being such a good girl for him, simply smiling sweetly at everyone and letting all the hungry men who are staring you down know that you are taken by letting him press kisses to your temple with his arm wrapped around your waist.

Later when the two of you return to your home in the Victors Village, he’d reward you for behaving so well and make you feel good.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight…you deserve to feel good hmm, honey?” He would say, voice laced with lust and so smooth as he begins to kiss down your neck. You whimper as you let him, nodding eagerly, knowing that Finnick knows how to work your own body better than you do.

He starts by burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you, expertly licking, sucking, and fucking you with his skilled tongue. He takes notes of the way your chest rises and falls, the sweet noises you make are music to his ears. He feels you tensing a little as your legs clamp around his head and he holds them open with his big, strong arms.

“Nuh uh darling….” he tuts as he raises his head up from your heat, “keep them open or I’ll stop”. He returns to work and he inserts a finger, pumping in and out of you as he draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue. You’re a loud moaning mess, back arching as you whimper and release all over his face. Finnick smirks and lifts his head up, his chin dripping from your arousal.

Then he moves on to fucking you. As everyone knows, Finnick is extremely experienced because of his past and he definitely puts his skills to good use. This man pushes in slowly and increases his pace. His thrusts are nice and deep, rough yet his hold on your waist is gentle. He finds that spot which makes you squirm in a matter of seconds and thrusts into you in a rhythm which makes your eye roll to the back of your skull. The sensation is indescribable, a mixture of bliss and pleasure and slight pain from the stretch of his size. Finnick whispers sweet praises in your ears as he feels you clenching around his cock.

“Mhmm..doing so good for me darling…so nice and tight, just like that”

“I can feel your sweet little pussy clenching around me…you close, honey?”

“F-fuck you feel perfect….this body is made for me huh darling?”

Let’s just say that the night is long and after many rounds, it ends with your legs shaking and body sore yet so satisfied from the immense pleasure you’ve just experienced. The aftercare is just as amazing as the sex (better if it’s possible) and Finnick smiles knowingly as he watches you doze of into a deep slumber on his chest almost immediately, gently caressing your hair as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

Finnick Odair who wants to corrupt your innocence by teaching you about your body and his, encouraging you with praises and his way of showing affection being to leave you breathless and covered in his scent.

———————————————

A/N: well I hope everyone enjoyed reading this bc it’s the first time I’m writing smut or any fic in general after I accidentally deleted my account. Previously it was also called @ficmenrhot or @sullymenrhot. Please reblog or like if you enjoyed this, a follow is appreciated too :);)

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick smut #coriolanus snow smut #hunger games smut #finnick x y/n #hunger games imagine #finnick odair drabble #thg series #thg smut

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tarjapearce · 1 month

Text

El Diablo Wears Prada (Pt.3)

Mafia boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Smut, Fingering, non-con oral (M! receiving), masturbation, power play, sexual tension, mild angst, Dom! Miguel.

Summary: Another toll is put on your shoulders.

A/N: Centuries later, here's part 3! Hope you like <3. Feedback much appreciated. Cooper Coen belongs to Marvel ✨

As much as you wanted to remain in Morpheus' arms and let your body rest until it reached a hundred percent, the constant buzzing of the tracking device against your ankle kept alerting you.

The last vibration had bolted you awake with a startle. Body whined in protest at the sudden movement that took such a strong hold on your hips, the juncture of your arms and thighs.

It took you a couple of seconds to get your bearings and see the little and borderline fancy tracking device on your ankle. It was as if a digital watch had been locked up around your smooth skin.

A little jolt of electricity ran through your nerves in a clear sign to not mess with the device, since you had tried to remove it. If you looked closer, it had a little password lock behind, a four-digit code.

You gotta be kidding me

How dared he putting such a thing on you? When did he put this thing on you?, but more important, was he still around? Cause if he was, he'd have a piece of your mind.

His sweater on your skin felt a too stuffy, and you needed a bath. A couple of bruises begun appearing in your ankles and the fatty part of your thighs cause obviously he needed to make sure you understood the magnitude of your current situation and how Massimo had willingly put a target ring on your back.

The buzz however snapped you out of the spiralling trance of thoughts that assaulted your mind. Brows puckered as you made your way towards his room but as soon as you entered, anger sapped away for a moment from your head.

The curtains were drawn shut, their dark colors provided enough darkness to isolate the brightest sunshines that tried with all their might to seep past them and take a hold of whatever thing they could reach.

With careful steps and a petty heart you sauntered over the windows and one by one removed the curtains, letting all the sun's ablaze glory to illuminate the darkened room in a go, even if it meant for you to be blindsided for a second before you turned your back on the light and saw the results of your anger display before you.

El Diablo, laid sprawled in his ever big and cozy bed, his right and sharp cheek smooshed against the soft and silky burgundy sheets that wrapped like a second skin on his torso and legs. One of his feet poked out from underneath, letting itself to hang outside the smooth prison.

His gorgeous mouth laid slightly ajar, letting a little drool streak to escape him and get long dry over the sheets. The smooth locks with the little silver strands in it were also sprawled all over his forehead and the mattress. Your eyes shamelessly raked his back. Big, well worked, perfect for leaving scratches and marks. He had none of those, but a different one.

A red lips silhouette located a few inches from his ear, half of it smeared, as if wrongly or quickly wiped, trying to cover up a trail.

The fact he had someone before giving you a rough fuck, not only put a little familiar yet painful stab in your heart, but returned the angry thoughts that initially gave you enough courage to foray into the devil's personal hellhole.

The pain felt like an old friend now that you had seen and heard the type of man Massimo really was. You didn't want to admit that there were times you could still feel a woman's perfume on his clothes while busying yourself in the confinement of your manor, trying to distract yourself from the emerging distraught of knowing your husband was possibly cheating.

Men

With a scowl, you took one of the many pillows and threw it at his beautiful sleeping face.

"Wake up!"

That quickly contorted into several emotions upon suddenly awakening. Surprise cause you had dared startle him, anger because you had the guts to interrupt his slumber and throw a pillow and finally, annoyance at your yapping.

Your arms crossed against your chest as he placed the pillow you threw his direction on t of his head with a bored grunt.

The smell of his perfume wafted through the air, hand in hand with a light natural musk and a dash of air freshener coming from the bathroom.

"What the fuck is this on my ankle and why did you put that thing on me?"

"Can you shut up?" His slouching form only turned enough to take a proper look your way once his irises had adjusted at the room's brightness.

Wearing his oversized sweater that covered those perfect mounds of yours he didn't have enough time to squeeze properly. Face twisted in a scowl, that although he rather your scared and demure look, he had to admit this angry you made his lips smirk and a spark of excitement to run through his body.

Your hair spooked and tussled even if you were now trying to contain it in a messy bun while ignoring the rebellious baby hairs, revealing more of your upset features.

Beautiful and angry.

Was this the sight you gifted Massimo every day?

"I'm talking to you!"

"¡Ya pues! Cállate... fucking heard you already." He grumbled while laying down on his back.

But in truth he hadn't heard a single word it came from your mouth. Too deep in suddenly remembering last night's events and what had transpired back in the club.

"Take this thing off me."

"No."

Miguel stretched his spine with feline grace and a satisfied smirk, letting some joints pop back into place. His spine wasn't aching anymore, he didn't feel like dragging the past few weeks' tiring load, his shoulders felt rather light, he was even in good spirits. You had spent him real good last night.

"What is this anyway?"

You remained on the window, letting the sun warm you up a bit. The whole floor was cold anyway. Your hands grope on either side of your waist and your frown deepened upon him turning his back on you.

"Fucking men."

He smirked as you went to his closet. He noted you only wore the thick sweaters. You didn't rummage through his clothes and personal items like he initially thought.

"I need to get some things back from home."

With a groan he finally rose, and sat against the bed's oak frame, his hands reached for his phone, and scrolled through his messages as his other hand slicked the messy strands that partially obscured his sight.

"Are you even listening?!"

"I'd rather not to."

He grumbled while his eyes remained on the screen.

"I need to get myself some clothes. I don't wanna keep using yours for you to have me naked later."

"You're thinking way too high of yourself, Ratoncita." He removed the silky sheets and tossed his phone somewhere in the bed, revealing his bare physique to you as he prowled your way.

Eyes boring on your tense form. Undoubtedly he was the cat and you his ever lovely and amusing little mouse. One of his hands landed a few inches on one side of your face, but as soon as you tried to remove yourself from the equation, his other hand and a step forward of his frame closed the space, sandwiching you loosely between him and the wall.

Even if limp, his cock felt above the sweater's fabric, right above your lower belly, ever warm and hefty. He had to lean down enough to face you, then took a half firm half gentle hold in your chin.

"If you have the energies to be mewling this early in the morning, you can take your pretty ass to the shower, clean yourself and get changed. We'll leave soon. ¿Entendido?

"I'm not coming-"

He squeezed your chin, igniting that spark of fury within you as he growled between teeth, "Understood?"

His tone left no space for replies. But you slapped his hand away and retreated away from his confinement, but the petty in him needed to have the final saying. Even though words were done, he took your actions as a defiance. So he returned it, on your butt as a firm slap that smacked deliciously in the air.

You didn't even turned to face him. Anger was too much in your mind to let it have the whole control over your emotional panel, and part of you assumed that he'd settle the score to his favor with another rough fuck.

Men.

Your hands clenched into tight fists to finally disappear into the bathroom with a loud slam on the door.

As much as he wanted to yell for the poor treatment on his property, he couldn't help but smirk, satisfied at your reaction.

Part of his brain was amused to no end to see this new emotion in you. Anger made his senses tingle. But the ever rational part of his gray mass, wondered what had taken over you to be this pissed.

Hadn't he fucked you silly last night? Cause he refused to believe he had done a poor job.

The sudden thought of him underperforming in bed made his bushy brows to pucker in annoying concern. He'd take many insults, name calling, but someone, a woman specially saying he was bad at in bed? No. He couldn't allow it.

He heard the shower run, and it was his cue to get his clothes ready.

He'd go for a pair of black pants, a burgundy Prada button shirt, socks, dress shoes, no tie neither a suit, Day was too humid to be overdressed.

The shower stopped a couple of minutes later, and he put all the things on the bed.

You had finished a hot shower, rinsing all trace of him, wrapped your hair in a towel and pat dried your body to then wear one of his many black sweaters and slippers, the only thing you truly possessed.

Upon seeing nothing but his toothbrush and grooming devices, you rummaged through the marbled drawers to look for a new toothbrush. You'd eventually find them next to a neatly arranged box of condoms and some gun chargers. But to your surprise the box was intact, sealed even, waiting to be used.

With a roll if your eyes and a huff, you got to brush your teeth, a little harder than intended.

Miguel simply entered the bathroom and slowly squeezed his way into the same space as you before the mirror, pushing you softly as you brushed your hair with your fingers.

He looked in the mirror, the grayish hue on his cheeks increased, but he kept it. Not really feeling like grooming himself. His happy trail was on full display to you.

If honest, it was the first time you actually paid attention to the secrets of his skin.

A couple of scars littered his cinnamon tan and muscled skin, bullet marks? perhaps. The muscles rippled at every movement, enhancing the sight of his lower back's dimples, waist narrow and sharp, adorned with well-worked abs and sculpted thighs. There were no tattoos on his skin as he rather keep himself clean from them.

His mere existence spoke loud and clear, he didn't need ink to prove his prowess. Plus, he considered himself too old for them.

Gabriel on the other hand was like a walking board underneath his clothes. Or a bathroom stall's wall like he once called him.

Your stomach grumbled loudly, and he chuckled.

"Instead of staring, why don't you get some food? You'll need it."

He grabbed his toothbrush and put a dollop of paste on it. Voice smooth like butter, that barely did a good job at hiding the rising mirth. But his lid twitched, vexed on your mimicking words

"You're thinking too highly of yourself."

You pointed at his neck.

"And make sure to properly clean yourself from others before even considering touching me."

His smirk widened and held your wrist with enough force to make you whimper. Miguel finished washing and rinsing his mouth to then pull you by your nape and crashing his mouth on yours.

You froze as he made you taste the fresh and cool flavor of mint in his mouth. When he pulled away, a sardonic smile plastered all over his infuriating yet beautiful face. He didn't give you time to reply as you were being pushed out the bathroom and before you could even give him again a peace of mind; he slammed the door in your face.

"Asshole!"

He chuckled as you yelled behind the door and finally got to shower.

----

After a hearty breakfast and some more calls from Miguel, you and the rest got into the cars and left.

Ben, the blond man drove the SUV again. Jessica was tailing after in her own car as another car with a lanky and pierced man lead the way.

Buildings and skyscrapers of all sizes and colors passed you by, streets were averagely full, but Ben drove through shortcuts that approached faster towards your secret destination.

Miguel had refused to speak after you recoiled away from his sudden urge of teasing you. He deliberately ignored you through the road, focusing occasionally on his phone screen.

"We're here, boss." Ben mumbled after what it felt like forever.

The little caravan had stopped before a bright red three floored building. Dark windows prevented the sunlight to seep in. The name, Casa Cisneros displayed in a Dior alike typography over the red walls.

Your eyes widened when you saw the gorgeous, elegant and colorful clothing designs neatly arranged in the window's showcase.

Miguel guided your surprised self deeper into the boutique. A man around his forties, white hair, shorter than Miguel, dressed up in an orange suit and a shit-eating grin came to greet Miguel.

"Por Dios, te juro que si vienes con esa mierda de zapatos de Prada ni me molestaré en atenderte." (I swear that if you've come with those shitty Prada shoes I won't even bother in help you out.)

Miguel chuckled while shaking his head. Then hugged the man briefly yet sincerely.

"How have you been Mateo?"

"¿Cómo que 'How you've been?'" His disgust couldn't hide, "Ugh. Never mind, where is Dana? Can't wait to dress her up in my new collection!."

Your brow quirked upon the woman's name but Miguel just dismissed him with a disdainful wave of his hands and a blasé scowl.

"Ah... Ya veo. En fín, whose the new seasonal fling?"

Mateo, the owner, or so you supposed, fixed his eyes your way and smirked approvingly as he watched you from head to toes.

"Nothing better and exciting than a blank canvas." he then turned to Miguel, "The same as usual?"

The same as... what?

You looked at Miguel and the mob lord shook his head while focusing once more in his phone

He dialed some numbers to place the trinket in his ear, "Up to her."

He mumbled before disappearing into another room. Mateo however grinned upon you being given a carte blanche from his best client. Cause that meant money.

"So... What do you want?"

"Uh... The basics I believe?"

This earned him a giggle.

"Preciosa. Hermosa, muñeca. Listen to me. And listen well.", He waved a warning finger at you, "Basic is not in this fashion's house vocabulary. Secondly, if Miguel brings you here is cause, he wants you to look good and not embarrass him. I know it sounds awful, but if you're with him-"

"I'm not." Your frown deepened and Mateo just rolled his eyes.

"Of course you aren't. Anyway, I'll give you a wardrobe. Let's go. Cooper!"

He called and soon a tall, young and redhead man approached. His green eyes lit up upon the task ahead.

"This is Cooper Coen, my assistant. He'll be helping us today."

The young man greeted, and soon they began working.

Mostly of the pieces the both picked suited perfectly on your body, every curve lavished and worshipped with utter care. But you also noticed that as beautiful as it all was, the crafts were easy to remove. As if Mateo knew the purpose behind everything he donned you with.

Cooper kept packing and bringing clothes that not only enhanced your body shape, but made you look like a spoiled rich man's wife. Elegant, beyond gorgeous, expensive and oh so tempting and fuckable.

Mateo seemed delighted in having you as his personal doll, trying outfit after outfit. Miguel had left to business but Jessica remained behind to look after you.

Hours kept passing, and you moved to the undergarments. You were too focused in getting the underwear you had missed for so long that didn't hear Miguel returning.

You wouldn't ruin him financially, sadly, but as Cooper had told you, it wasn't going to go be cheap either. And if your intuition wasn't failing, you knew something didn't add up. Not that you weren't grateful to finally have your own clothes to wear, but deep in your brain, the ever rational and alert part of it kept telling you to be wary. To not trust Miguel.

What is he hiding?

----

Miguel had to leave for a couple of minutes to have an impromptu meeting with Peter back at the club for more Intel gathering. Apparently a clue on Massimo's whereabouts came up and he left you with Jessica.

But upon returning and seeing the amount of packages and the count ascending past the fifty grand, he called you.

Money wasn't an issue for him, but the amount of unnecessary shoes that you or rather Mateo had made him wonder how many pair of shoes a woman truly needed.

Never enough apparently.

He called you once, but Cooper showed up instead.

"She'll be here soon, Mr. O'Hara."

The young man nodded as Miguel huffed.

It reminded him the too many times he took women for shopping and always ended up like this. Bored out of his mind, sometimes pissed at the constant questions they asked him.

Do I look fat? Does this color matches my skin?

He sighed, irked but somehow ready to ignore the flood of questions you'd annoy him with.

Much to his dismay, minutes kept stretching impossibly longer and he had things to do and places to be at. He called you again.

No response.

His jaw tensed as his teeth ground together. He immediately took his phone and searched on the tracking device location.

Signal Lost

"Pinche mujer" He growled as he bolted gun in hand towards where you had been, Heart pounding with such an intense anger it felt like molten lava flowing through him. 1Jessica was helping Mateo, unaware of what was to unfold.

Heavy and livid steps guided him towards the dressing rooms. He swung the curtain, ready to look for clues as to where you had left, only to find you, struggling with adjusting the back straps of the lingerie Cooper had handed over to you.

"¿¡Qué no oyes cuando te hablo?! ¿'Tas pinche sorda o qué?" (Didn't you hear me when I'm talking to you?! You fucking deaf or what?!)

His sudden outburst startled you while your frightened gaze settled on him and it quickly turned angered.

"What the fuck?! I'm changing!" You were about to keep up with his yelling when his gun stood high and proud in the air. Silencing your babbling with an unintelligible grumble.

"What was that?" With a scowl he glowered your way. Your tongue clicked, ignoring him.

His eyes couldn't help but rake your body for some brief seconds to finally settling on the tracking device. The thing was off.

"What did you do to it?!" He growled while pushing you against the mirror and kneeled to grab your ankle and see with his own eyes why the device wasn't working.

Updating 40%

Of course the damned thing would be updating. His nostrils flared angrily as you yanked your limb away from his grasp.

"Hurry the fuck up, I don't have all day."

He let you go and headed towards the entrance.

"Che palle! Lasciami in pace un attimo, stronzo!" (How annoying! Leave me alone for a second, you asshole!)

And oh his head turned in many dangerous and dark thoughts. It wasn't the words you used, he couldn't care less about them, but the fact alone you still had bits of Massimo still clinging to you.

If honest, you only had learned some phrases in the attempt to rekindle things with your husband, it somehow worked, but this was a completely different outcome you truly weren't expecting.

In a blink of an eye he was already before you, red eyes glowering your way, a steely grip on his gun.

"The fuck did you say?"

You had to recoil away, but where? He had trapped you again against the mirrors, your fear etched in every face the multiple surfaces provided and it fuelled him.

A thick gulp rolled down your throat as his gun's tip placed underneath your chin to drag down between your breast to stop right above your heart, tapping a tad rough with it.

"If you wanna act like a spoiled brat, fine." he seethed as he pushed you on your knees in a swift move, the sudden movement had you stumbling down, startled "I'll teach you a fucking lesson."

His other hand immediately went to your front strands, tangling his long fingers in them, your hands immediately flew to his wrist, grunting uncomfortably at the tight grip on your skull, trying to pry yourself away from him. You could feel his anger through the little tremors his body did as he tossed the gun to the seat inside the little cubicle.

"Let me go!" he pulled your head back, parting your lips open in the way.

"Since you fucking love opening your pretty mouth to disrespect me," His hold tightened on your hair as his hands fumbled with the belt of his pants, sliding his free hand past the layers of clothing and pulled out his engorging cock. A few pumps of his hand around it had it twitching to life.

"I think it's time to find a proper use for it, hmm?" Before you could even protest, his flushed tip was already invading your mouth. A hiccup escaped you while he pushed in inch by inch, earning a brief gag and gurgle from you.

A satisfied growl escaped his smirking mouth.

"What's wrong? Cat's fucking your tongue?"

He stepped in closer, your nose nuzzled his happy trail as he was now holding your hair in a fistful. A sharp tinge of tears blurred your eyes for a moment as he slid down your throat. Your hands slapped his thighs while trying to push him back, earning him a breathless moan. You had tested his patience long enough for him to snap and remind you of your position.

If he had known how easy and quick you'd learn how to get under his skin, he would've left you back with your rotten husband.

Upon sensing you gag again, he chuckled while sliding some of his fingers underneath your chin, guiding you slowly to take him properly.

"Fucking relax." He heaved when your mouth flattened around him to have air flowing back to your lungs.

Fucking gorgeous. That's how you looked, staring with your pretty and angry eyes while you choked on him, set a long forgotten thrill alive that he rather keep buried for good.

You coughed as soon as he slid out, completely hard, glistening in your saliva and beads of pre cum that connected to the corners of your flushed mouth.

"Uh-uh. Open up, I'm not done yet."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and coughed a couple of bits; the glare returned to your eyes.

"Fuck you."

Miguel huffed, crouched and took your chin to kiss you, tasting himself. You bit his lip, hard trying to get him to free you, but the growl grumbling through his chest only made your skin crawl as his tongue slid in your mouth, also invading you.

The sheer size of his frame and the little space between sandwiched you, deliciously against him. One hand cradled your head, not giving you a truce while devouring your lips as the other one slid down between your legs.

The sudden contact sent jolts up your spine, as he changed the cradling on your nape to a light squeeze on your neck as he pressed you against the floor, and spread your legs with his teasing hand when you trapped his hand in between your thighs, preventing him from reaching deeper.

The motions had slowly made his cock to be trapped again in the fabric confinement.

He earned a feeble mewl as he slid two of his fingers inside. The vibrations of your purring reverberated underneath his skin made his eager tip to twitch again

His phone buzzed and he let your throat go for a second, but his fingers remained inside, massaging and wriggling softly within your flesh.

"Not a peep from you, ok? This is an important call."

Your hands immediately clenched and your thighs trembled when he moved his hand, back and forth, delving into your drenching walls.

Heat licking at every pore of your skin. You didn't know if it was in anger or your hormones betraying you once again. The lack of sex with Massimo was costing your dignity big time.

He's just toying with you cause he knows he can.

Your mind reasoned, despite the rationality's grip loosening at his ministrations.

"Ya le dije a Gabriel que procediera sin contratiempos." (I already told Gabriel to proceed without problems)

He talked and moved his hand like the most natural thing to do while in a call.

Shame washed over your cheeks at the raunchy and sloppy wet noises your cunt made the more he probed your insides.

"No, no-"

You hissed and his eyes went immediately on you, as if with his glare alone he'd be defying you to make a noise again.

Your lips pursed shut as your chest heaved with ragged yet quiet breaths

"I've got it under control."

More than a reply to whoever he was talking to, his words were a fact. An undisputed truth that clawed at your brain the deeper he stimulated with his fingers.

He was on control. Of you, your body and every bit that formed it, of every contraction that sucked and trapped his fingers, of every breath he made you exhale.

His pace increased, and you choked while your body trembled at the beat of his thrusting fingers. A satisfied smirk crept up to his face, determined to break your forceful silent vow.

He's worse than Massimo. Don't forget that.

The hardened nub of your breast peeked underneath the flimsy fabric, swaying, demanding to be tasted.

His initial resolution of not making a physical approach, had been long broken, ever since you insulted him in that foreign language that certainly sparked things within his mind he rarely liked to indulge thinking.

You amused him, that was much true. But God you also made him so fucking angry. Running your mouth like you were his equal, facing him despite being scared to the core and spending his energies in such a delicious way he only sought whenever stress was eating him alive and none so far had properly known how to sate. Not even Dana.

The only serious relationship prospect he had so far until she cheated on him and he had to get rid of her.

But you, He didn't know if to kill you himself or fuck you 'til you were in tears.

Your mouth parted in a pornographic 'o', gasping quietly, eyes shut, face covered in a deep shade of red, hands clenched into fists on the floor as your body swayed underneath.

"Let me see what I can do." He crooned as his golden chain around his neck dangled with his motions.

His eyes kept glued onto your face as he slowly rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against your neglected clit in a tortuous and flickering motion.

You bit your lip, and he smirked darkly. Slowly, he pushed in a third finger as he applied a bit more of pressure on your already sensitive and engorged nub

Think about the condom box!

Your toes curled in, body contorted in between gentle twitches and jerks when he grazed ever softly and teasingly at your sweet spot. A soft and barely audible gasp escaped your mouth. And his breath hitched as soon as you locked eyes with him in a glare.

How dare he?

He moved in and out, alternating between fucking his fingers inside and caress your bundle of nerves for enough time to edge you.

"I know. Hmm." He nodded at whatever words Peter gave him, "You're more than capable of handling it."

It felt like he was encouraging you through the whole process.

He's not in control.

One of his fingers grazed into a spot that got your hips stuttering and shaking your head as your teeth sunk deeper into the plump of your bottom lip, jaw tense but unable to trap in a garbled moan. You felt like a hypocrite.

"Yeah, don't worry. Everything's fine."

The way your walls increased their drenching with every contraction on his digits, had him tittering silently in twisted delight.

At this point it was a matter of seconds to have you coming undone. He was set into making you break the rules. Your toes curled and trembled as he fastened the pace enough to have a soft squishing slap echoing just for him.

El Diablo tilted his head as you clawed your nails on his ankle, it barely tickled him.

"All he has to do is to agree. Offer him more money if that's the case."

With clinical precision he stopped a few seconds before you got to come undone and trap him inside. A frustrated and shallow whine flew out your mouth. His thumb pad was now tracing the outline of your lips, to then slid two of his drenched fingers into your mouth.

"All he has to say is yes." He moved his hand, making your head bob in a nod as he spoke. Your taste exploding into your mouth.

With little he just retreated outside the cubicle to return a few minutes later with a plain pair of pants and a shirt. He hung the call up and sighed.

" Now that you've learnt how to shut the fuck up, get changed. We need to go."

With trembling legs you stood, trying to catch your breath, the lingerie soiled, your thighs sticky. Heart and pussy played like a fancy tailed piano and he was the main musician.

He fixed his clothes, despite the raging boner pulsating between his clothes. He looked at you for a moment, nose reddening, lips flushed and glossy eyes that turned aqueous the more he remained in there.

His brows pinched softly in an imperceptible frown before leaving you alone. Not really wanting to witness your sudden discomfit.

What had came over you?

----

Ever since he woke up that day there were so many changes he had barely had time to adjust. But this quiet and distant you was unsettling and uncomfortable for him.

First the need to cry after he almost gave you an orgasm, then, the silent ride back at home.

You barely glanced his way when explaining the dress you needed to wear for the party he was also changing into. But what frustrated him the most was when he asked you to remove the ring out of your finger. The urge to cry returned on your face.

He truly didn't understand why you still clung so blindly to Massimo. At this point he thought it was love.

He huffed, disgusted.

You wouldn't drag him to your emotional rollercoaster cause he already had his own. And there was an enough mess as it was to keep adding to his plate.

He was proud of his detachment skills, soon you'd return to that asshole you called a husband and he wouldn't have to worry about you anymore, cause again, he was growing tired of facing other emotions that weren't the ones he could master.

No matter how gorgeous and fuckable you looked in that backless and sequin golden dress that undoubtedly did a better job at treating your body than him.

You had to apply some makeup to the most visible bruises around your body. Neck included. He loved squeezing it apparently.

Miguel had removed the tracking device of your ankle to disguise it as a clock on your wrist. He looked handsome as usual.

In truth, you looked like a celebrity. It made you wonder what kind of party you headed to, but you refused to speak to him and he was more than happy to not be bothered.

Each sat in opposite corners in the car. Not saying a word during the ride. The only instruction he gave you was to stay close as he hugged your waist, although weakly, with his hand.

Nostalgia was rampant on you today, and it didn't help the not so clandestine reunion harbored within a familiar milieu for you.

A fancy club, L'Enfer, you once had the chance of visiting. Your engagement night, and returning after so many years in extremely different circumstances, tightened the knot around your throat and the need to run away to increase tenfold.

Golden floors matched the velvet curtains that protected the black windowsills from prying eyes. The tables pristinely arranged to the left and right, ready to witness its attendee's darkest and deepest secrets.

Servers were dressed in jet black suits and red gloves, offering the myriad of delicacies prepared for the night.

Some men stared at Miguel, apprehension and wariness in their eyes. Others smirked and raised their champagne cups as he made his way deeper into the place. Peter walked ahead, Miguel and you followed, and Jessica tailed behind, yet his agents scattered all over the place, either as servers or valets, even bartenders.

Miguel wore his usual frown, occasionally changing into a deadpan whenever a fan of his work approached.

Miguel entered to a further room, more private and secluded. The smell of tobacco and expensive perfumes polluted the air, assaulting your nose at once.

You downed the discomfort with a cup of champagne.

"Try to not drink too much. Need you sober for the meeting."

A meeting?

You quirked a brow at his mumbles but nodded and remained seated near the indoor font, the least tobacco smelling place from the rest and the same place Massimo proposed. Now, you were eating the different entrees, balancing the alcohol ingest in a mob lord party, you realized too late.

Jessica remained on your side, also eating whenever a snack she liked passed by. Peter accompanied Miguel as he greeted and exchanged a few words with the other people.

Orborn, Kravinoff or Kraven for short, Olivia Octavius, and other men didn't ring a bell on you.

"Let Miguel do the whole talking. In fact, act as the listener. And if Kraven calls you beautiful, don't say thanks. He'd think he can hit on you and the least Miguel needs-"

"Is worrying for stupid shit. I know."

The sweetness of the mini desserts and other assorted flavors didn't help to conceal the tart tasting in your mouth. Jessica quirked a brow and nodded.

"You're adapting quick. That's good. But despite having a ten grand dress on you with matching shoes and gold in your ears, you look like you're about to cry. What the hell is wrong now?"

Tough love was all you got from her, but it also surprised you how perceptive and unsuspecting she could be.

"Everything."

Jessica rolled her eyes and sighed, adding another lemon curd mini tart in your plate. One you hadn't had before.

"What in specific? Is it... That guy, your husband?"

Jessica smacked her lips with her gaze fixed on you, scrutinizing within your eyes upon your sudden silence.

"You're really hung up on that asshole, aren't you?"

"It's not that. And I'm not even sure about my feelings on Massimo. I want to punch him in the face for lying to me, but I also I want to know he's alright, so I can... pass page."

Your shoulders slumped as you heaved, defeated, "And Miguel is no better. It feels like they'd be secretly competing against eachother whose worse."

Jessica grunted with a silent titter and shook her head.

"He's blunt and an asshole, undoubtedly. Despite that, I'd stick in Miguel's side, he'll make sure you're safe in his own way."

"Just wished he'd be less cryptic whenever I ask for answers."

"Again, he's protecting you."

"From what? From himself?"

"No. From the troubles your man dragged you to, honey."

"Ugh" You rolled your eyes, the last thing you needed right now was to be reminded how awful Massimo was, "Just forget it. I feel anxious enough as it is."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I have a bad feeling."

-----

You sat next to Miguel and carefully listened. The mobster's voice occasionally drowned the cutlery's tinkling out.

Topics had varied through the night, from luxury cars and ways to armor them, weapon hiding and smuggling, to your current predicament. Massimo.

"Kingpin is looking for him, his wife has gone MIA, which is convenient. Bitch's smart. The guy could learn a thing or two from her."

"He ratted out Delgado with the FBI. His associate! Wouldn't surprise me if he'd sell out his family to save his skin." The man called Harry Osborn spoke as he downed his whiskey.

"Da. My associates have gathered Intel, he hasn't left the country still."

You gulped thickly the more the men spoke. If seeing with your own hands what your husband had created wasn't enough, hearing it straight from the horse's mouth only crushed your heart even further.

"What about you, Diablo?"

"Max owes me money."

Many just hissed while contorting their faces disapprovingly.

"How much?"

"Four Million."

"Poor bastard sold his soul to you, didn't he?" Olivia Octavius mumbled between sardonic and titters.

Miguel downed his whiskey as your hands clawed on the golden sequins of the dress.

"What kind of fucked up woman marries a guy like that? She's desperate or corrupt as he is."

Olivia spat and a few nodded.

"Heard he was fooling her this whole time."

"Ahh, C'mon, Miguel. Didn't know you fell for such things."

Miguel just shrugged, then he lit up a vanilla and cherry cigarette to blow the smoke away from you.

"I'm giving people the benefit of doubt still. But I'll find him."

"You'll kill him?"

"Gotta collect my reaps first."

The men and Olivia grinned, everyone seemed pleased but you. It had been a good deal of information to swot on, so many to digest your stomach had turned queasy.

You were about to stand up, feeling the bile and nausea rising, that registered too late the acute ring piercing through your eardrums so badly after a powerful loud bang. Unable to move, frozen in the spot.

Everything felt in muted slow motion, some droplets of something warm and wet fell on your face, spraying you. You saw the group pulling out their guns one by one as Harry Osborn fell with a seemingly loud thud on the table.

Why isn't he moving?

Your heart pounded in your ears, throat constricted, and when you tried to scream nothing but a mute yell came out. A strong tanned hand pulled you down, as more loud bangs kept echoing, like distant fireworks underneath water.

Guns were sparkling with every shot they fired, people fell on the floor, staining the golden surface with crimson as the walls around received an ugly hole-themed makeover.

You could see Miguel grabbing your shoulders, shaking you while his mouth moved angrily as he pulled his gun away and kept you secured tightly underneath his frame.

Chaos had broke loose. And you weren't sure you'd live up to tell.

-----

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