#i can barely keep up with everything i'm interested in

[xzhdjsj]

Page 142

Zaros x Reader

Zaros is temporarily unable to lie.

For the sake of this fic, let's pretend alchemy and potions, etc exist in Zaros' world😭 Also, this gets suggestive towards the end (just a teensy bit nsfw), if you're uncomfortable with that you might wanna stop reading at the marked point or not read this at all!

I may write a second part for this, but I'm not sure. Lemme know if you guys want a part 2! I hope you enjoy! <3

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It was a quiet day, unusually so. That's only because ever since Zaros’ arrival to the palace, a peaceful day has not gone by. His mouth is never closed. He always has something to say and not a care for repercussions. It’s annoying, extremely annoying, and it flares both your anxiety and anger.

Yet, somehow the peace and quiet feels almost wrong. Do you perhaps miss him?

You shake the thoughts from your head. Nonsense. Why would you miss him? Though, it is strange you haven't seen him all day, maybe it would be best if you looked for him. Only for the credit of being an observant host of course, nothing else!

-

  

You make your way to his door, slightly nervous to knock, but you do so anyways.

...

No answer. So, you knock again.

...

And again, there was no answer which is very unlike him. He may hate your guts but at the very least he’s polite enough to answer his door.

You scan the area for a quick moment, making sure you're all alone in the hallway, then press your ear to the door. How strange, not a soun-

"Can I help you my Earis?", a voice chime behind you.

You shout and turn to face its owner. A palace maid.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." She bows respectfully, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine." You sigh and placed a hand to your chest, "You just spooked me. It's alright."

"Apologies your highness. Is there anything I could help with?"

"Uhh no, I was just about to leave."

You swiftly turn to leave, desperate to get away from her. Then you stop at a realisation, maybe she knows where Zaros is.

"Actually," you turn to her, "Have you seen Sarl Zaros today?"

"He was in the garden earlier, my Earis. Though, I have no idea where he is now."

"Right, thank you. That'll be all"

You scurry off, unable to shake the embarrassment you felt. You know she'll keep her mouth shut, after all, if rumours are traced back to her it would cost her quite a lot, but the icky feeling still haunts you mind. What were you even thinking?

-

You find yourself in the garden rather quickly, but there was no sign of his blonde hair or elegant garments. Just greenery and sunshine. That means there's one last place you may be able to find him, the library.

And sure enough, he's there.

You pick up a random book, not bothering to look at the colour or memorise the title, and take a seat across from him.

"Earis, how nice of you to join me." He mutters, barely, as if he didn't want to speak.

"Is it really? Or are you just saying that?"

"It is... nice." He grimaces but swiftly hides it with the books he's reading. Something about potions and remedies, since when is he interested in alchemy?

"Oh uh- I see" you reply awkwardly. One unusual occurrence after the other, he's never outright nice to you, especially when you're alone. He's always giving you an earful of how spoilt and sheltered you are. What suddenly changed?

The silence engulfs you both, he has his head stuck in his book and you, well you're still in shock staring at him.

"Are you going to keep staring?"

"What?" You snap out of your daze.

"You were staring."

"Oh, no I wasn’t! I just zoned out for a moment. Sorry."

A pathetic lie, he knows it too. He doesn't even honour it with a response, or even look up from his books.

God everything is so freaking weird today!

"Are you alright, Zaros?" You blurt out before you can think.

He finds your eyes finally.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I just- You don't seem like yourself today, I was just wondering if you're unwell."

He sighs, exasperated and tired.

"If you really must know, I was accidentally served a glass of wine containing an elixir of truth. I'm fine otherwise, I just need to get rid of its effects."

"Ahhh, hence the book. I was curious why you were reading that." The wheels in your head turned. He consumed an elixir of truth, which means he cannot lie. It’s no wonder he admitted your company was welcome earlier.

"Hmmm I didn’t think you were so keen about reproduction either my dear Earis.” He eyes the book laid out in front of you.

Confusion laced your expression as you looked down. The title hits you in the face like a brick. It reads

 “Reproductive Biology: Conception”

“Oh, dear god! No, I- I grabbed the wrong one!” Your face burnt of embarassment as you hurriedly returned the book to its shelf.

“Are you sure you didn’t just come here to find me then?” he chuckles at your dilemma.

You don’t answer, but no answer is still an answer. What an awful day! You turn to leave, having had enough of the awkwardness and embarrassment.

“Come sit with me.” He calls out to you, “It’d be rude of me to let you leave when you came all the way here to find me”

Reluctantly, you walked over to the table and sat with him.

“Did you miss me that much?” he pushed his book aside, casting his full attention onto you.

“Of course not, I just thought it was unusual that I haven’t seen you all day. That’s all.” You inform him, “Were you ignoring me on purpose?”

His expression shifts for a moment, but he catches it quickly.

“Why would I do that?” he dodged your question. “Did you miss me berating you?”

“I should’ve left when I had the chance.” You sigh and rest your forehead against you palm and he laughs.

“You’re the one who came all the way here to find me. It’s only fair that I have my assumptions.”

“Too bad they’re untrue.”

“Are they really?”

“You know what?” You retort, “If you want to ask so many questions, I propose a game.”

“A game? Go on, I’m listening.”

“We take turns asking each other questions and answer them truthfully. Not that you really have a choice anyways and I promise to be truthful as well.”

“You definitely have an unfair advantage, but I’m desperate for some entertainment, so I don’t see why not.” He leans forward, resting his face on his interlocked fingers. “Well then, I’ll go first. Did you come all the way here to find me?”

You sigh, “I did, but you already knew that, so why waste a question?”

“I wanted to hear you say it.” He smiled mischievously.

It started off tame, with harmless questions to tease each other. Pieces of memories from the past and truths to white lies once told, but as it progressed there was more than either of you bargained for.

(things get suggestive from here)

“Do you regret leaving all those years ago?”

“No, I don’t. Had I stayed, I wouldn’t know half the things I do now, and I wouldn’t experience the things I did. Besides, you made it clear you never wanted to see me again, I honoured your word for as long as I could.” His words only made your regret worse. “Do you regret being close to me back then?”

“No. Then, do you hate me for driving you away?”

His expression stiffens, and he just stares at you in shocked silence for a minute. “No, no I’ve never hated you. Do you hate me?”

“I could never bring myself to ever hate you. There’s too many memories attached to your face, fond ones that I cannot risk hating.”

“I see.” He murmured quietly.

“Did you think I hated you?”

“You did send me away and called me a leech. It felt kind of obvious. What about you? Did you think I hate you?

“Yes, and for some reason, it scared me. Did you… Did you ever forgive me for all the things I’ve said to you? They were awful, I know that now, and I'm... I'm sorry.”

“I did. As I said, I never hated you, and what good would it serve me to hate the person I lo- the person I grew up with.” He corrected himself. “Do you regret it? Sending me away.”

“Everyday for the past 8 years. I hoped you’d show up to every formal event we held, but you never did.”

“Wow are you sure you didn’t have some of my wine too?”

“Shut up. Did you think about me when you were gone?”

He tilts his head to the side slightly, “More than you’ll ever know.”

“How? What were you thinking?”

“Hold on now, you’re only allowed one question per turn. So I believe it’s my turn now. Did you think of me while I was gone?”

“Yes, I did.” You confessed quickly, “What were you thinking of when you thought of me?”

“So demanding. But I don’t think you want to know that, my sweet Earis.”

“It’s my turn, and that’s my question. If I did not wish to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Fine, but you asked for this. When I thought of you, I often reminisced of our time together in school. Other times, my thoughts of you were quite… inappropriate.”

Your ear perked up like a kitten. “Tell me more.” You demand.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. Tell me everything.”

He leans back into his chair, “I thought of you when I was with others. That’s why I was never able to keep a partner.”

“Wha-“

“Every time I looked into their eyes I’d think of you, and I knew my adoration was never for them. Every time someone laid below me I’d close my eyes and imagine you instead. The thought of you and what we could’ve been followed me, haunted me, ate away at my very soul. I didn’t want anyone but you, despite my criticism, you are what I craved.” His eyes never left yours, every word, every truth he spoke made your bones feel soft and your stomach tie into an uncomfortable knot.

There should be another word that meant speechless beyond the word speechless, it would perfectly describe how you felt in that moment.

“Zaros I… uhm” Your face is undoubtably red, and you cannot bear to look him in the eyes anymore.

“My turn now, darling.” His body lifted from his seat, and he moved to sit next to you, so close you could smell the scent radiating off of him. “Did you think of me the same way I thought of you?”

You could lie, you could tell him you’ve never thought of him when you were with another and you can tell him you never thought of him when you touched yourself… but he was truthful and you should be too.

“I did” you whisper, barely enough for him to catch, being only a breath’s distance from you.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

Your information processing is cut short when his lips landed on yours and a warm hand on your cheek. Your eyes widen only to flutter shut. His hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your waist, desperately pulling you closer. You hold onto his arms for support, too engulfed in this feverish kiss to think of anything. He kissed you like a starving man, he kissed you with 8 years’ worth of longing and every second was deliciously eager-filled and greedy. When he finally pulls away you’re gasping for breath. Your fingers are still gripping into his biceps and his, your waist. He tugs you closer, a silent plea for more.

His breath was warm on your face, and your body felt hot. His body felt hot. There was a sense of urgency in the air, and the world around you faded away again when his lips met yours. Your chest is pressed up against him while he pushes your back into the wall behind, desperate attempts to be as close as you can, A thousand curses upon the layers of clothes that separate you.

Time was definitely slowing down, and every touch of his fingers lit fireworks across your skin. It was addicting, he was addicting. Neither of you could get enough, the longing was too much to ignore. His fingers were warm, so warm they melted into your skin. The buildup of passion was ought to come crashing down at some point but before his fingers could slip further past the fabrics on your skin a familiar voice ring out.

“Sarl Zaros? Are you in here?” The Queen gently called out.

Your bodies split apart in seconds. He scrambles to the far end on the bench, and you rush to wipe your lips. You look over at Zaros, and his chest is heaving, same as yours. God you wished you didn’t look. The way he desperately tried to calm himself down did things to your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

You promptly stand and turn to greet your mother who’s approaching.

“Mother, good afternoon.”

“Oh, you’re here too dear?” she smiles at you.

“Yes, I was just uhm chatting with Zaros.” You lie through your teeth. “But I’ll be leaving now, I have other things to attend to.”

You walk past your mother, hurrying for the giant doors of the library.

“My Earis,” a rasped voice calls behind you. “You forgot your book.”

You turn around and Zaros hands you the book he was reading. You didn’t question it. There was no time for questions.

“Ah thank you Zaros” You flush when his hands touch yours.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.” His eyes were filled with lust, green embers burning holes into you soul.

“Tha-Thank you.”

You ran. You ran all the way back to your room, locking the door and dropping into your bed face first. What the FUCK just happened???

You wish you could scream, instead you try to process everything that’s happened. It started off so innocently, tame questions and light teasing but evolved to so much more. HOW?

You remembered his words before you left the library.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.”

You pick up the book he handed you, flipping the deckled edge to page 142. Obviously, there was nothing interesting, just a piece of paper that flutters to the floor. You pick it up, unfolding it carefully, to find a message written inside.

“If you wish to continue, meet me in my room at midnight. I’ll be waiting, my sweet sweet Earis.”

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva zaros #zaros #zaros atha’lin #zaros x reader #asmr

[lightlycareless]

I keep thinking of naoya making a fool of himself around y/n and y/n just being confused (idk) like he tries to get her to like him but it doesn’t turn out well😭 , idk if that made sense sorry!!😔

Hello!!

Awww this was really sweet to think about, however I got confused in the end and made it somewhat of a happy ending lmao.

Well, I still hope you like it!! (If anyone wants angst tho, I do recommend reading my valentine's day special. But I too been wanting to write something heart clenching for a while, might get onto it....)

warnings: highschool au. naoya likes you but he doesn't know how to approach you. he is ridiculous.

Happy reading!!

A silly Naoya is more like an overconfident Naoya, the type of guy that will never stop bragging about ANYTHING just to make you look his way.

It's certainly worse when he's barely starting to acknowledge his feelings, getting to that point where he finally says "I think I like her."

To stand out and get your attention is something Naoya never thought he'd need to do, simply believing that his title as heir of the Zen'in and his outstanding achievements as sorcerer would've done the trick—but they didn't, and now, he had to put in the work.

Thus, the borderline ridiculous demonstrations of his persona, courtesy of Ranta's advice; though if it’s worth anything, this is not what he envisioned.

"Can you believe he didn't want to accept my assignment only because I didn't hand it over in a folder? That's so stupid, can't wait to get him fired as soon as I—"

"Wait, Naoya, Y/N's coming!"

"ANYWAYS I WENT TO THE MALL THE OTHER DAY TO THIS LUXURIOUS STORE AND BOUGHT JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING THERE AND STILL HAD MONEY TO SPARE, GEE WHY IS EVERYTHING SO CHEAP NOWADAYS??? AND PEOPLE STILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THE ECONOMY!! I JUST WISH I HAD SOMEONE TO SHARE ALL MY MONEY WITH—did she look??? Did she turn around to see me??"

Ranta sighs.

"No."

"Ughghhhhhhh what do I need to do to make her see me?!"

Though frustrated, he does not give up.

"—yeah, I think we're going to this super expensive resort for the weekend. I personally preferred to travel out of the country, but you know how my father is, lazy as always. If it were up to that old man we’d never leave the—and now??? Did that work?? Is she looking??"

But the results are the same.

Naoya would keep on trying, loudly proclaiming things that in his mind would eventually earn him your interest, or at least a simple glance….

Until he, eventually of course, tires himself out. Sorrowfully finding that his endeavors had been nothing but fruitless as you continue living your own life, without Naoya in your consideration.

You’re slowly becoming someone unreachable to his grasp, and while he doesn’t plan on giving up just yet, he does intend to take a break, maybe reconsider his possibilities… before coming to a conclusion where you might not be involved anymore.

And what better way to clear his mind than indulging in one of his favorite activities—secluding himself at the rooftop of the school building to read the newest release of his favorite manga.

Unaware that someone else might be there, coincidentally… the person he wished nothing more than to be with.

"What are you reading?" You'd ask upon noticing the intense stare of the young, somewhat handsome man, he’s giving his magazine.

"Do you mind? I'm bus—o-oh!" He freezes upon realizing it was the girl of his dreams talking to him, cheeks burning red as he closes the manga and looks away. “Don’t—Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone like that?!"

"Ah, sorry!" You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to startle you, it's just that you looked so concentrated, I couldn’t help but to be intrigued! Is your story really interesting?"

"...it is" Naoya murmurs, gaze returning to you—he almost glances away yet again at your closeness, but your beauty makes it almost impossible to do so. "It's the latest chapter, I waited a whole month to read it."

“A whole month…?” you repeat. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it was a long time—"

“Hmmm, not quite.” You teased. “I’ve waited years just to see the continuation of my favorite series! Talk about dedication.”

“Huh, well, I don’t think it’s the same—this felt worse because of how good it is.”

“Really? I don’t know, I can’t believe you—I have to see what you’re reading for that. You grin, he smirks.

“Is that so? Then don’t let me stop you from finding the truth.”

And Naoya happily obliges, both excited to share one of the things he enjoys the most with the person he adores most, as well as the fact that you’re finally setting your eyes on him! After all this time!

He considered it to be incredibly unexpected, and perhaps a bit silly how it came to be, unable to believe that it took so little to impress you.

But as soppy as it sounds, there is truth in admitting that there is no better way to get someone to like you, than by being yourself.

omg that was so fluffy agkjasjghasjkghjsa cheesy too ahahahahah damn I surprised myself for sure!!

Rest assured, you heard Naoya do all of those things and consistently thought "Is he ok? Why is he yelling?"

After the two begin to date you'll tell him how weird it was of him to do all that hahahah though... "You didn't have to do that, I already liked you." Naoya feels even sillier :^)

Anyways, I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this didn't end up in a sad note, I read the request very quickly and ended up understanding you only wanted an interpretation of Naoya being silly—though I do want to write something sad between the two, him messing up and all that. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse for that through other asks hehehehehe

Thank you so much for sending in this ask and for your patience!! Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[imwritesometimes]

not being caught up with a ~certain show~ rn and seeing posts abt it on my dash has a very 'tip of iceberg sighting' vibe

#I'm gonna catch up but I gotta be honest man I'm probably not down for another season if they keep up the bullshit #like..... at this point I *hope* the show ends cause I'd hate to see them make it worse 😐 #this is why I think I barely watch tv currently airing cause MAN can ppl not resist turning every show #into a shit show now #everything you liked abt early seasons? WE'RE GONNA FUCKIN ANNIHILATE THAT SHIT! #like.... why? quit trying SO HARD to subvert expectations so much! #and then also just like 90% of the stuff on now does not sound interesting to me at all so 🤷‍♀️ #erin explains it all

[sxcret-garden-archive]

,

#rant incoming.... ugh #so i need a letter of recommendation for my application to study in korea #and basically i haven't had the teacher i asked for it in class for a while so she said she doesn't remember too well how i was doing #so basically i sent her an email in korean for her to see but the thing is #i not confident in my korean at all #like i know i can say simple stuff #but the real problem is that i also know i still make many mistakes but I CANT TELL WHAT THE MISTAKES ARE #and that's such a horrible feeling to me #plus i keep feeling like i'm not good enough to even deserve to apply ???? #and i can't even calm myself down by saying i've been studying hard and so if my skills aren't good enough i did everything i could #because i don't #i can't motivate myself unless i'm super stressed #and i keep trying to start studying but i know after a few weeks at most i #i'll lose interest and stop #i know i'm still doing my best in a way because i can't change the way my brain works and that it refuses to do stuff that's not fun enough #unless i'm under pressure #but on the outside it looks like i'm being lazy and not even doing the bare minimum and it's very hard to unlearn these patterns #of internalizing what i've learnt growing up is expected of me #and unlearning expectations i simply can't meet

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun #dungeon meshi #this has been rotating for a while but i wanted to check my evidence before getting into it thanks user angelspenance for posting that meme #half of this is just the text and the other half i'm sure has been said before but it's making my brain [radio static] so here this is #someone did for sure mention this but i do find it very cute that in his fucked up conjured world meant to portray his ideal reality #his teammates came to visit him. like part of the fantasy was then explicitly that they cared about him and were his friends. even though #he says he tried to see the worst in them. #hm it does feel important to note that i do also believe 100% in mithrun suicidality--his desire to be eaten does seem to focus a lot on #wanting it to be Over. wanting not to be left incomplete and empty anymore. #but that loops back around a bit to the hole in your heart that appears when you feel unloved. it's many things and the same thing at once #snakes #long post #severe problems #meshy

[osirisdefencesquad]

snippet of Eîr and Vela, as Sanne is being integrated into the clan

Eîr was used to people being uncomfortable around him. This is what he tried to convince himself, at least.

And it was understandable. It really was! Whether they were uncomfortable because of his attunement to the Void, or the Hive mutations, they had reason. ...It never did hurt any less.

"This new one's an interesting find, for sure" Vela informed him as he climbed up to Eîr. Grateful for something to pull him out of his own head, even if it was talking about what put him there, Eîr lept for the conversation.

"Do you know how she's settling?" he asked the other hunter, shifting from the railing to the bed of cushions, accepting the coffee Vela handed him.

"Other than damn near losing her mind every time she comes into contact with someone void attuned?" Vela winced, offering up his scorched right arm for Eîr's observation "well, for where we found her."

"How is Wraith taking that? hasn't he been invested in the new lights recently?"

"Hard, from what I can tell. Kirach has him out on patrols until we give the all clear"

"...which Eva is working on now. do we know why she has such a strong adversion to Void?"

"Nope. Vias is prying at her -she seems more comfortable with other Awoken- but she's barely a month out the grave."

"So something from her past life. Is Zirne still hanging around Osiris?"

"Yep. they've found some new thing to throw themselves at. Saint projects about a week until Osiris takes a break, and I give Zirne 'round four days. She's already low from the strikes."

#i was just going to draft this but y'know what. i will never end up touching it again if i do that #also for those who have not had the misfortune of reading my little wip drops before: #i tend to set up the bare bones of the environment‚ write out the dialogue‚ then fill in all the actions around that #this is quite literally a first draft and also written on my phone #and yes I'm running with the ''hive can convert other races into hive via ritual'' thing. yes the guardian who was subjectedto that shares #a name with a worm god. THAT was unintentional #i named him thinking it sounded appropriately hive-ish and only later realized why #okay facts abt the actual scene: #They're talking about Sanne‚ who has Issues with void for (then) unknown reasons #Wraith is a relatively young Exo who was risen a couple months before the Red War. poor fucker #he's also strictly attuned to Void: he can barely use Solar and he can't use Arc. at all. #Vela strongly prefers Void‚ but is also a bladedancer. he can use solar but it holds no particular interest for him #(hence not being pushed from the clan house) #Eîr co-leads the clan with Eva‚ so he's not pushed out either‚ but he is keeping his distance #(like Vela‚ he prefers void over everything else‚ but solar is a comfortable secondary and arc is a little too fast-paced for his tastes) #Eva is strongly arc attuned and hasn't run a different subclass in decades‚ so she's fine to be around Sanne #this takes place sometime ambiguously after Saint is rescued‚ obviously. i still dont know when #the boys are hanging out on a balcony or something. idk #how did Vela climb up there while holding coffee? his ghost held it #Verdant has made it a challenge to figure out how to carry stuff out of inventory #she's figured how to hold two drinks on her shell and she's work towards three #i got interrupted and now i have no idea where this was going #vela's tag #eîr's tag #writing

[mphountitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

#saltburn #saltburn x reader #saltburn smut #saltburn x you #farleigh start #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start smut #oliver quick x reader

[astralstarlight]

walking in on you with your favourite toy !

w/ sukuna and choso (separate)

warnings/tags: implied fem! reader (bc that's how i'm thinking about it in my head rn), suggestive, 18+, no curses AU, in a relationship with choso, it's anyone's business who you are to sukuna (housemates maybe??), definitely not in a relationship with him though and you probably have to deal with him walking around shirtless all the fine and looking fine, the toy is a vibrator

a/n: thinking about them a lot recently

Sukuna is not amused. This is not his fault.

If you were going to be doing such private things, then you should lock your door.

"I can explain." You say.

Sukuna gives you a once-over. You're extremely calm for someone who's just had a ruined orgasm. The vibrator is still buzzing a little away from where you'd given up on trying to turn it off and just thrown it to the side for hopes of bringing some small sense of decency back onto your naked form. The blanket is haphazardly tossed over your legs.

It barely covers you.

You're wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else on the bottom half. He got a pretty good glimpse in your panic anyways — wet, wanting, twitching... He can't seem to get it out of his mind anymore.

An eerie acceptance settles over your face. It must be the adrenaline, Sukuna deducts.

"Okay." Sukuna says, crossing his arms and pushing the door closed behind him. "Explain."

"Well." And you have the audacity to hesitate on your words still, as though he isn't already wasting his time and attention on you. "You should knock." Pause. "Next time."

Sukuna lets out a barking laugh. "There won't be a next time, brat." He stalks over to you. It's a bit more imposing than you would imagine, especially when his eyes are scanning over your form as though he's already eating you up in his mind. He decides to toss a side-glance to your vibrator in an attempt to embarrass you further, before drawing his attention back to you.

It works, a brief flicker of panic exposing itself on your face as you seem to finally catch up to the situation.

"Just ask. But don't try to be cute about it." Sukuna continues.

"Sukuna?" You ask timidly, still trying to figure out what he's actually proposing.

"I told you not to be cute about it."

That seems to rile you up, and you feel a flash of annoyance run through you. "I'm cute about everything."

You just get to finish your sentence, before he cups your jaw dangerously tight, tilting your face to look up at him. Perhaps you weren't such a quiet and innocent housemate after all. The way your cheeks squish together is kind of cute actually.

He thinks you might look better crying.

A sound between a questioning mumble and a choke leaves your throat. You open your mouth to say something else, but his fingers are already tracing down to your collarbone. He tilts his head slightly as he feels your breath hitch.

"Lie back." Sukuna says, nudging your shoulder a little.

It's a final warning, you realise. A checkpoint in deciding whether you want to continue or not.

You do follow his instructions, jerking slightly as he manages to slide his hand onto you and press down onto your sensitive clit. His hands quickly move to keep your legs open.

He stops moving for a bit and you peek up at him to see what he's doing. The vibrator is in his hand, looking rather small and pathetic.

"We'll see how easily you cum from this, and depending on whether you impress me..." His eyes travel from your lower half up to your eyes. "I'll show you how good it'll feel to take me."

Choso is polite about it. Every kiss you've shared with him has been soft, sweet even. He's never shown any particular interest in furthering it. It's why you're so oddly embarrassed when he walks in on you with your vibrator pressed against your clit.

"Choso!" You manage to slip the vibrator out of your hands and turn it off, ignoring the urge to pull the blankets over your head.

His face reveals no surprise, nor a blush. A feeling of insecurity runs through you and a stinging starts behind your eyes. Huh.

In the silence, he's staring very intently at your closed legs. He takes a step into the room, still saying nothing.

You jump slightly when he sits beside you on the bed. He's uncertain, bordering on nervous as his fingers twitch slightly.

It's quiet enough that you think you should say something.

"Choso—" You say again, in a softer, more reassuring tone.

He cuts you off. "I'll help."

The matter-of-fact tone makes you blush. You forget how straightforward he usually is.

You shake your head. "It's fine. If you're uncomfortable with it or you're not really sure, you don't need to—"

Choso reaches under the covers from where you've thrown your vibrator. The top of it still glistens with your slick. He takes it out, twisting it in his hand as though to investigate it. He presses the button until it vibrates a bit too loudly.

It's not a setting you usually would have set it on to start with.

"Just tell me what to do." He says.

Good thing there's a lot of different settings for him to play with under your guidance.

#sukuna x reader #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #choso smut #— alathea writes #i care for them a lot #having a little bit of a hands obsession recently #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

[authorhjk1]

Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better. 

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges. 

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness. 

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again. 

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it. 

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one. 

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target. 

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now."  He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat. 

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam. 

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other. 

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands. 

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well. 

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out." 

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone. 

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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[regulusrules]

A very long meta explaining why the confession scene in Good Omens is the best that has ever been written and performed on screen

First of, the scene begins with two different realisations that makes each of them believe that their dynamic will significantly change (Crowley wanting to confess his love and Aziraphale wanting to break out the news about heaven). This, you can see, creates an unprecedented shift in their energy, makes them super excited (Azi) and super nervous (Crowley) to break the news to one another. And despite the two matters being drastically different, when Aziraphale begins his revelation we don't get the Miscommunication trope where Crowley listens to the offer and passively retreats back his emotions. No. He is steadfast in his resolution, in his love for Aziraphale.

And that right here is king attitude no.1, because even if Aziraphale just threw something so godforsaken on him, he won't allow himself to be cowardly or let go of the one person he loves more than eternity. Crowley still bares his heart, still lets it all out, because he will not lose Aziraphale in his naivete of still believing that Heaven is good and Hell is evil. (I write this with supreme detachment of my own beliefs lol) He tries to make Aziraphale understand that sides didn't do them any good the past 6000 years, that the only solid foundation they ever had was them, and that Crowley would rather have them than have everything.

The way you hear Tennant's voice breaking when he said “And we spent our whole existence pretending that we aren’t”, is the perfect reflection of how Crowley genuinely despairs the time they lost and wouldn't have any more of it. And even with how bare and raw he's feeling with revealing all this, he still goes on. He still tries to tell him and I would like to spend our whole existence together, but struggles and struggles because he's strung wide open. But he keeps trying.

Now you see here a moment of disbelief on Aziraphale's behalf, because he doesn't understand why Crowley would refuse going back to heaven with him when all Aziraphale remembers of Angel!Crowley was how utterly bright his eyes shone when he lit up the stars and surely Crowley must miss that too? He wants the same thing Crowley is saying, just in a different dimension. The “I can make a difference” immediately changes to “We can make a difference” because that's all what’s ever been for Aziraphale; them changing the small engines of the world according to their partnered will. He is genuinely benign and not ill-intentioned when he says “Nothing lasts forever”, because he truly wants a better life for them, a better existence. And that's when it gets better: Crowley has his walls back up, he's walking away, because he can't bear that he was never enough as he is for Aziraphale. That he was never worth reciprocation.

But Aziraphale doesn't let him leave.

And that is king attitude no.2, because he doesn't want Crowley to leave when things are strewn all over the place that they don't know where they stand. All Aziraphale ever wanted was for them to stand on the same ground. He asks him to come back to him but hides it by finishing it with “to heaven!” because the whole conversation is going too fast for him, and he's undergoing a religious crisis of sorts that does not end in 6000 years, yet even so he still doesn't want to lose Crowley because he's everything he has and he can't do it without him and “I — I need you!”

And that's when it gets reaaally interesting. Aziraphale's expression then turns from sorrowful desperation to rageful desperation, because he's baring his heart and Crowley is walking away from him. Their solid ground is completely shaken when he says “I don't think you understand what I'm offering you” because he's trying to be subtle about his love for Crowley and still direct as much as he can, but Crowley responds with a condescending “I think I understand a whole lot better than you do” and if this isn't peak human beings in their arguments, I don't know what is. Because we all think we are so misunderstood every time we get into an argument with someone we love, and we absolutely despise it when we feel patronized, so it's no wonder Aziraphale bitterly says “Then there's nothing more to say”, because if Crowley understands, truly does, then he'd see right past his fear to how much he loves the ground Crowley walks over.

And on the other hand I don't believe Crowley truly meant to be patronizing, but in a desperate last attempt he wanted to make Aziraphale understand what he is trying to say, what he spent his entire eternity feeling for Aziraphale, what Aziraphale would be giving up if he goes to heaven. What their life sounds like with no nightingales.

“You idiot, we could've been.. us” is the very culmination of love confessions. It took every single emotion and equated it. Tennant's delivery of it was unsurpassed in the way that it truly covers everything. And the way he grabbed Aziraphale, not entirely lovingly but desperately and angrily and, honest to God, awfully, is the reason why their kiss is so perfect. No queerbaiting, no beating around bushes. It is raw and sad and giving and agonising. Crowley wants to say see what you're giving up? See what we can have? And all Aziraphale thinks is how could you lay this on me now after everything, after every chance we could've been something, after me loving you from the first time I've met you. He's angry towards himself too, because nothing he can offer Crowley will be good enough that he chooses him instead of his choices. Sheen's choice in making his character grab Crowley's shoulder and let it go and then grab it once more in desperation is so unexplainably perfect of how much Aziraphale wants to hold onto Crowley.

But in the back of his mind, Crowley isn't choosing the same. Instead, Crowley's choosing to run from something that no doubt will rebound in their faces. They are angels and demons of heaven and hell, how could Crowley expect they could run and hide without being a repercussion later on? At least what Aziraphale is suggesting ensures that they will have a high position of power, enough to make them together, enough to make them happy, but instead, Crowley is walking away.

And when Crowley lets go of him, not the other way around because of course it is Crowley who must let go and detach from the utter pain that pierced his heart, you can see his expression being one of defeated longing. He sees all expressions passing across Aziraphale, sees how torn apart the other man is, too, and awaits just a semblance of anything they could work with. But instead, Aziraphale's face closes, and he tells Crowley “I forgive you”, and Crowley thinks this must be his second falling, because he's never felt more pain. “Don’t bother”, he says, yet still waits for Aziraphale outside and doesn't leave until Aziraphale has left him. Because in the end, Crowley would always be there for Aziraphale, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of it.

And that, my beloveds, is why eternity will remember this scene.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #david tennant #michael sheen #good omens meta #LJ metas #regulusrules metas

[lis-likes-fics]

The Sound of His Voice

Pairings: Spencer Reid x agent!Reader Word Count: 3k words Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/vague gore, mentions of death and murder, standard Criminal Minds stuff, fluff otherwise... A/N: I started watching CM a while ago and now I can't stop so enjoy this. There will be more, I dunno when. (Should I be working on my months-in-progress-wips? Yes, I absolutely should. Am I? Mostly. I'm trying my best)

Morgan rubs his temple, digging his fingers into the side of his forehead as he shakes his head. Tapping his pen on the desk, he tosses down his file. “But here's what I don't get,” he says, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. “If the unsub thinks of his victims as prey, even going as far as to torture the victim, why go through all the trouble of tucking them into bed?”

Hotch looks back at the picture in his own hands, where he had been analyzing the scene for the hundredth time in search of something he missed the first hundred. He shrugs, “Tucking them in can usually indicate signs of remorse.”

JJ motions to the pictures. “Yeah, but look at this guy. Does this look remorseful to you?”

You lift a shoulder, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Could be a second unsub.”

You are a relatively new addition to the team. It was your fifth case with them, but they already treated you like part of the team, like family. It was easy to sink into the ebb and flow of everything, especially when they trust your skills and instincts and let you know when you're doing something wrong so you know not to do it again.

But this case was difficult. Your unsub had a strange profile: an organized, white male, with surgical experience and the MO reminiscent of a cat. He kills men and women alike, and the only connection between his victims have been their smaller statures.

The age range itself was too wide, though there was a slight reoccurrence of ages between 25 and 35. But it was still too wide, either way, not enough to work with.

He ties up and tortures them before finally ending their lives with strangulation. He uses his bare hands to get the job done, which makes him a sexual sadist. As if that wasn't enough, he carves out the victim’s heart after death and takes it as a trophy.

He shows plenty of psychopathic characteristics, but he also fits the profile of a sociopath, so it's hard to make anything stick. His MO suggests a lack of empathy and guilt, but the bed-tucking… You always lose him with the bed-tucking…

Morgan shakes his head a little, humming. “But we already ruled out multiple unsubs,” he says. You nod gently. “Besides, if this guy is mimicking the hunting habits of a cat, he would hunt alone, wouldn't he?”

Reid’s head perks up. He points a pen in Morgan's direction as he shakes his head. “Actually, no.” He licks his lips, and he's grabbed your attention like a siren to a sailor. “It's a very common misconception that cats are loners, but it's untrue. Cats prefer the companionship of others just as much as a human being would.”

You lean toward him a bit across the table, watching him as he speaks, his hands moving to illustrate his words as he does. “People often think, because of their aloof nature, that they like to be left alone or actually despise the presence of other people, including their owners or other cats—which is why people believe them to be low maintenance creatures. But they are just as social as, say, a dog. Actually, it's interesting, big cats like lions, or sometimes even cheetahs, hunt in packs to take down larger prey. Domestic cats–”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, making a cutting motion with his hand to his neck.

Your eyes turn back to Spencer, who seems to retreat in on himself a bit as he gives an apologetic smile and a small nod. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his lips in a wide smile.

You set a hand on the table, shaking your head. “No, keep going. That was interesting.”

Spencer looks at you with these eyes that seem to shine. Your heart feels fonder, warmer, at the sight of him.

“We really don't have time to go through all of this,” Hotch says, his tone final.

“I mean,” you continue. Since joining the team, you've grown a certain affinity toward Spencer and his genius mind. Every time he's gone on his tangents, you've become enchanted by the words coming out of his mouth like he's put some sort of spell over you. You lift a shoulder, gesturing toward him. “If this guy is basing his MO off the hunting patterns of cats, we should…know everything we need to know about them, right?”

Hotch looks at you, his face hard and unreadable. You're unsure if he's considering your proposal or just trying to intimidate you. But then he sighs, his crossed arms loosening a little as he turns to Spencer.

“Reid?”

Spencer looks between you and Hotch, relenting hesitantly as he starts off slow. “Well…I was going to say domestic cats are solitary hunters but sociable creatures.” He picks up his normal speed once more, “They can be very affectionate, especially toward their owners and other cats within their households. They're also one of the only types of cats who play with their prey before killing them, which could be a reason this unsub tortures his victims so extensively in his murders.”

“Wait…” Prentiss says, catching all of your attentions. “You said ‘affectionate toward their owners’.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods.

She waves her hands gently, “How do cats show affection for their owners?”

Spencer shrugs, “Um, bunting, purring, some scratch, sometimes they leave offerings, like dead rodents, around the house–”

“Right there!” Prentiss exclaims. “They leave offerings.”

You sit up, “The hearts.”

Hotch’s dark brows furrow. “You're saying this unsub is taking the hearts as an offering to someone else?”

Spencer thinks over that, nodding. “It's possible.”

JJ sighs. “But that still doesn't explain why we wouldn't have identified a second unsub earlier.”

Spencer holds out a hand, pointing with his pen. “Actually, it could. You see, cats also have the tendency to mimic the people they hold affection for. We might not have noticed a second MO because the submissive unsub may be mimicking the dominant one.”

“Or learning from him,” Morgan says.

“Learning?” Hotch asks.

Morgan glances around, “Well, if we're sticking so close to this cat thing, older cats often nurture the young and teach them to hunt.” He shrugs, “We could be looking at…brothers? Older and younger?”

“Or lovers,” JJ suggests. She points to a picture, the image of a chest carefully carved open to reveal a missing heart. “If the hearts are offerings, it could be a Valentine.”

“And the bed-tucking?” you ask.

Hotch picks up the picture of one of the victims, “safely” and securely tucked into bed…put to sleep. “Well, if the hearts are offerings for a lover, this unsub is sentimental. He could feel some type of sympathy or guilt for the victim and want to ‘put them to sleep’ after the torture.” He studies the image, a flash of unease behind his eyes that you know all too well. He sets it down.

“Okay, so how do we find them?” Prentiss asks, clicking her pen before setting it down to begin a definitive course of action.

Spencer points to yet another picture. “Look at these injuries. These incisions are surgical,” he clarifies. “So the dominant is a doctor or a—a veterinarian, which can be implied through his intimate knowledge of cats’ behaviors.”

“And the submissive might work under him as a nurse or an assistant,” you continue, adding on to his clever insight. He glances over at you, smiling almost giddily at your understanding.

Hotch turns to Morgan. “Do you think that's enough to work with?”

Morgan thinks for a moment, his shrug melding into a nod as he turns back to Hotch. “To fit in with the rest of the profile,” he hums, “I'd say so.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods firmly. “We'll present the profile ASAP. Morgan, get Garcia to search for any vets in the area with any records of assault charges.” He says this all while taking long strides toward the door, his red tie bouncing slightly with his movements.

Prentiss follows him with her gaze as he exits. “You think the unsub is aggressive?”

He turns briefly. “Look at the bruising on the neck. The torture alone is an indicator of anger and frustration, but the way the victim was strangled suggests force. Much more than necessary just to crush a windpipe. He's an organized killer with a lot of rage. If he moves more along the lines of a sociopath, our best guess is he's had some kind of trouble with the law at some point in his life,” he concludes. Glancing aside, he speaks again, a little more firmly. “Morgan.”

“On it,” he says, his phone already ready to contact Garcia on speed dial.

“And Reid,” Hotch says, focusing his hard stare on the younger agent.

He stiffens, straightening his back and awaiting his response. “Yes?”

There's a pause as Hotch examines him silently. With a single nod, he says, “Good work.”

He glances at you. A nod.

You nod back.

Hotch leaves in a hurry, and your gaze immediately and instinctively flicks to Spencer. He smiles at you, turning away as though he was shyly hiding that same smile.

~

There were two unsubs: a surgical veterinarian and his nurse. You caught them just in time, just as that knife was gleaming in the golden light of the lamps swinging above the three bodies down in the basement of the submissive unsub’s house.

And now you soared 40,000 feet above the ground with another killer put away for good.

Everyone's in their own spirit, placing you across the aisle from JJ and Spencer in their own booths, a crochet set in your lap as you continue one of your projects. Emily's eyes linger on JJ, watching the crease of her brow as she studies case files.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, setting her book to the side to shift her attention. Derek darts his eyes up from his own book, lifting his brow as he does it.

JJ looks up, breathing in and lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “I don't know about you,” she says, “but I know that if I got an actual human heart on Valentine's Day, me and my alleged partner would have some serious issues.”

Snorts and chuckles lift from multiple places among the seats, heads shaking and attentions shifting back to their own activities.

But as soon as you hear the first lilt of Spencer's voice, like clockwork, you're a fish on a hook.

“Actually,” he begins, “if we were set back thousands of years, that would not be a very unusual occurrence.” He licks his lips quickly, “You see, Valentine's Day’s origins actually go back to a festival called Lupercal, or Lupercalia. The festival was in itself a very violent and sexually charged affair that lasted roughly three days—from the 13th to the 15th—set in Rome. Its traditions were carried out in two separate locations, firstly–”

“Alright,” JJ rises to her feet, her eyes wide in annoyance as she closes her case file in a large announcement to Spencer. “I'm getting coffee. Do you want anything?”

Spencer purses his lips, that same wide, apologetic grin covering his face as he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Uh, no. All good here.”

She nods, turning to walk away, “Great.”

You watch JJ leave, your eyes fall back upon Spencer, who's pulling his book back into his palms to turn his focus back on the pages. His eyes flit over the words at lightning speed, absorbing the information and moving to the next.

Taking your crochet set in your hands, you stand and plop down in JJ’s old spot. Spencer's eyes darts up to you, glancing between you and his book as you set your stuff down and readjust your yarn.

Beginning again, you nod toward him. “You were saying?”

Spencer, his eyes wide and confused and his lips parted in wonder and his cheeks a little pink, stares at you. After remembering he had to respond, he sputters in an attempt to.

“Uh, it's-it's really not that…interesting,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end as he sets his book down, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the desk between the both of you.

“Well,” you look up at him, setting your elbow on the table and tucking your first underneath your chin, “I was very interested.”

His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. His lips form the word before it comes out of his mouth. “You were?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Looking at him for a moment—just looking at him for a moment—you take in the pretty sight of his bewildered expression, fascination and confusion and excitement crossing his face in a flurry of emotion.

You move your elbow from the table and pick up your hook, nodding toward him before training your eyes on your work again as you await his words. “Firstly?” you prompt.

Scrambling to organize his thoughts, Spencer nods. As the words form in his brain, he smiles as he thrusts himself into another rant, speaking a little softer so as not to aggravate the rest of the team.

“Well, firstly, the uh— The-the first location was in a cave called Lupercus—named after the Roman fertility god that the celebration was dedicated to—and the second is a public meeting place called the Comitium.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling a little. “Like the word ‘committee’.”

“Exactly like the word ‘committee’,” he beams.

Your attention, as hard as you tried to split it, becomes entirely caught up in Spencer as you forget about your project and focus your gaze entirely on him. You set your arms on the table separating you and watch as he speaks, your smile definitely too love-sick to be a hint anymore. He seems to lean in closer.

“So how did Lupercalia become Valentine's Day?” you wonder aloud.

“Well,” he starts, prompting a larger grin from you, “in the late 5th century A.D., Pope Gelasius I eliminated it and declared February 14th a day to celebrate the martyrdom of Saint Valentine instead—although it's highly unlikely he intended the day to commemorate love and passion as it is celebrated now. In fact, some modern biblical scholars warn Christians not to celebrate Valentine's Day at all, due to its Pagan roots and rituals.”

You hum, your eyes taking glances at the stretch of his skin over his fingers and the way they move when he speaks.

“Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?” you ask gently, speaking slowly.

His hands fall back down to his lap, and he shakes his head as he straightens his posture a bit. “Well…I don't usually have anyone to celebrate it with, so… No, not really.”

Feeling the shyness slipping into your veins, you set your hands on the table and let your fingers slowly inch toward him, staring at them inside of his eyes. You don't want to see the rejection if it lives there, in his eyes.

You speak slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Would you like to have someone to celebrate it with?”

He swallows thickly, letting one hand lift onto the table, still close to him but building up courage to maybe meet you in the middle. “Like…” he clears his throat quietly. “Like you?”

You offer a right smile, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his and feeling giddy at the light blush on his cheeks, the nervous wideness of his gaze. “I promise no actual hearts.”

You watch him, and again…his eyes, his Adam's apple, his cheeks, his lips. “Uh…yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, sure. I'll be your…your Valentine.”

You smile, a wide smile that splits your face in two. Spencer's own grin follows suit. Looking past you, he catches the eyes of Derek, who smirks and offers a cheesy thumbs up, proud of him for securing you as he did.

His gaze falls back to you when you begin to speak, your voice just as song-ish to him as his is to you. You're both equally as infatuated as the other. “You know,” you trail off slowly, “supposedly, Saint Valentine might be so commonly associated with our day of love because there are rumors that he used to perform secret weddings against the wishes of the authorities in the third century.”

He nods slowly, his brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that's right…” Licking his bottom lip, he speaks again. “You already knew all that stuff about Lupercalia, didn't you?”

You smile, your face squished a bit as you raise your hands and close your thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little,” you whisper. But then you shrug and just keep looking at him. “But I like listening to you talk.”

Spencer suddenly doesn't think you're real, but he isn't about to question it if you aren't. There's someone who enjoys his tangents. He isn't going to jeopardize that.

“Oh,” is all he says.

With your crocheting long forgotten, you lean forward on the table and give him every ounce of attention in your mind. With a fond smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye, you rest your chin on your folded hands. “You should tell me about…” you pause, thinking, before you smile curls even more, “bees.”

His brows lift as he nods. “Okay, well,” he starts, “did you know the first civilization to practice widespread, organized beekeeping was the Ancient Egyptians, who began beekeeping around 2,500 BCE?”

Your brows lift in fascination. You shake your head, “No, I didn't.”

His smile grows. “Well…”

For the remainder of the flight, Spencer talks and talks and talks, his voice quiet and meant solely for you as he talks about whatever you want: bees and wine and marbles and Halloween. He keeps smiling at you, as you keep smiling at him. Somewhere along the way, he officially asks you on a date, and you both get off the jet together to get a cup of coffee.

You love the way he talks.

Criminal Minds taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

[tomorrcwz]

✰ LATE NIGHT'S DESIRE , O. PIASTRI

[ preview ] working as a mclaren strategist for years, the newest driver is the perfect candidate to satisfy your hunger — he does make it easy for you, coming to your door in the middle of the night.

[ tw ] smut, unprotected sex, dom!fem!reader, teeny tiny little bit of corruption kink, spit kink, inappropriate work relationship | gif by @princemick

[ a/n ] idk what this is but yeah slay or whatever bruh. Might write more smut about oscar, I'm really fixed on him rn + ITS MELBOURNE GP and in honor of that i had to write a little something

. minors do not read | masterlist .

The sight of the quiet, charmingly awkward Oscar makes your blood pump fastly though your veins as the desire within you grows. You know its wrong, having inappropriate thoughts about a co-worker, one that isn't as secure as you are on the team but you can't help yourself with it; the need to fuck whoever is handsome and new is strong enough to make you black out rules.

First you had Lando — he was eager to fuck you as you pleased, then you had to have Daniel, who mind you, wasn't as easy to get in your bed and he also wasn't to corrupt as he was the one to mirror your actions and pull some stuff. Sadly it ended rather fast with him getting a girlfriend. But you still have Lando every other month as the boy can't keep a girl around, making him fall regularly in your bed or wherever you are to fuck. It's not that fun anymore, quiet bland. The routine is always the same — first he'll finger you to get you wet enough and then you push him to whatever surface and take his cock. Afterwards you clean yourself, Lando already out of the door.

So, that brings you to Oscar.

He's fresh blood, newly single, and dear lord in heaven over the winter break he put on a lot more muscles, looking ridiculous strong, causing your pussy to flutter whenever you see him. You flirt with him quite often and you do see his brown eyes cloud with lust, but you want to take your time. There's no need to rush.

But the day comes.

Its Sunday night, hours after the race and celebrations of Oscar taking P3, when you hear knocks on the door of your hotel room. Reaching for your phone, the homescreen only shows a few messages from people you're currently not interested in responding. No Lando. Normally, he'd shot a text beforehand, so you're not sure of who is standing opposite the wooden door.

Breathing in, you swing your bare legs off the bed and walk across the room, opening the door. The sight greeting you leaves your mouth agape — Oscar's wearing an maroon satin shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his thick fingers are two rings which you've never seen him wear but it suits him. He looks hot, even more so with his hair all toulouse and a curl glued to his forehead. It's an indicator that he is influenced by Lewis and Guanyu, both very fashionable drivers on the grid, and you could kiss them right now because Oscar has never looked this hot. He is but this is otherworldly.

"Everything alright, Oscar?", you ask, crossing your arms under your breasts and unintentionally pushing them up, presenting the man with your more than welcoming cleavage.

He can't help himself; his focus rests on the soft curves of your tits, the skin glistening under a sweat film the heat of middle east brings.

Clearing his throat, the Mclaren driver, sends you a dashing smile. "Yes, actually I've missed you at the celebration and was wondering if you—", he stops himself, cheeks flaming hotly.

"If I want?"

You can see the thoughts running around faster than the car on the track earlier. Must be hard to grasp whatever plagues his mind.

"I was wondering if you'd celebrate with me", he whispers, somewhat bashful which is endearing.

"Sure, let me throw on something else to wear, can't go out in this", you say, hands moving across your body to clarify your point; due to the heat you're only wearing some boxers and a flimsy babydoll top. Oscar gazes at you, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean celebrate in, you know . .", he stumbles over the words, blush now burning his ears too.

Oh. Oh.

To end his misery, you catch his wrists to pull him inside before hitting the door close with your foot and shove him against it.

For the first time you kiss him, all teeth and tongue, and its different from what you have imagined — his hands are rougher, caressing your lower back, creeping under the top to feel the warm skin of yours. Grabbing you by the hips, he sloths his dick against your stomach and grinds. He doesn't feel small, maybe even bigger than his teammate. In your imagination, he was softer yet he let you guide him to bed exactly like dream-oscar did and falls backwards on top of the cream coloured sheets, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Remove your clothes, baby."

You reach for the hem of your top as you command him, letting him stare at your tits while he steps out of his bottoms and throws the shirt in a corner. His milky smooth skin's glowing in the dim lighting a street lamp spends, and you see a map of freckles on his chest as well as a happy tail lending down to his beautiful cock.

Spitting in your hands, slander finger gently touch his length, causing Oscar's head to fall back, lips wide agape and you take the opportunity to spit in his mouth. "Shallow, Osc, be a good boy f'me, yeah?", you coe, hot breath fawning the auricle. He does, groaning lowly but its getting louder when you bring your legs on either side of his lap, left hand grabbing his cock and coating it in your wetness before probing the fat mushroom tip at your pussy, gliding down till every inch is inside you.

The feeling of his cock might aswell change everything; he's the biggest you've ever taken, scraping and burning you inner spongy walls deliciously as he kisses your cervix.

Fuck Lando, he doesn't have anything on Oscar.

"M so full, you're filling me up so good, baby", the praise let the man smile in a haze, far lost in how good you ride him. Your wet hole holds his grith snuggly as you fuck yourself on his cream coated length — his eyes roll back in pleasure at the sight of a white ring forming on the base of his dick, something he has never seen before, and it spurrs him on to grind his hips into yours, getting a worish wail out of you.

You fuck him till his abdomen thighten and he pumps you full of cum, that is oozing out of your desperately moving body, chasing your own orgasm. Oscar leans in, bitting on your pulse point. Then you fall over the edge, legs shaking as you still on top of him.

After catching your breath, you charmingly smirk at him before he grinds up in your fluttering hole — he's already getting hard again.

#f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1

[reiderwriter]

You're Just Too Good To Be True

Chapter 9 of That's What You Get

Summary: You're determined to seduce Spencer after accidentally rejecting his last advances. It goes better (and worse) than you expect.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, Dom! Spencer, Oral (M receiving), clit stimulation, sort of dry humping, cum play, breeding kink, size kink, wife/husband role play, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, slut, whore), creampie and heartbreak. MINORS DNI 18+

A/N: Welcome to the endgame. Please don't worry about anything and go into this chapter completely blind 🥰 My requests are finally back open, and you can find my masterlist here! I'm also participating in kinktober this month, and everything so far is here, too if you're interested!! 💕 Enjoy!

The elevator was painfully slow as you followed Spencer out of the building. You had to take your bets about which way he'd have gone, whether he'd brought a car or was planning on taking the subway. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you chose the parking garage, partially hoping for seclusion with him a bit faster than you'd get if he'd run to the crowded station. 

Fate was on your side. You stepped off the elevator on the basement floor and after a harried moment of twisting this way and that, your eyes locked onto him in the distance, walking towards his desperately old car. A miracle, considering he didn't often drive. 

"Spencer!" You shouted across the lot, practically skipping over to him, only mere paces away when he finally turned to look at you. You slowed down to a walk then, but with a marked anticipation bubbling in your stomach, your steps felt like lurches, your body drawn into him by the beat of your heart. 

"Spencer, wait." He'd stopped just in front of his car, so he wasn't really moving, but you wanted to be sure. You needed to be sure. 

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, his tone light, not as confused as his face made him seem. You hoped that was a good sign, that he was playing up the awkwardness of the interaction for anyone else who happened to be driving themselves home. 

"Our annulment deadline passed, right?" You looked up into his eyes, trying to hold the grin back from your face as you locked eyes with him. 

"Yes. I told you that the other night in the lobby, why are you asking again?"

"Because I want to go home with my husband." You took a step closer to him with the words, letting them fall lower, hitting the back of your throat where your heart was currently beating. They somehow didn't get stuck as you raised your hand to his chest. You didn't touch him fully, just let your pointer finger trace circles on the pocket of his shirt, hoping he'd hoping understand. Desperately. 

Sick of your teasing, he grabbed your hand and flattened it against his chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he slowly twisted the two of you around. You were like two beasts, circling each other, looking for areas to attack, to bite, to destroy. God you wanted him to destroy you. 

Before you knew it your back was to the car door, his voice in your ear. 

"And what do you want to do at home with your husband?" He growled in your ear, as he dropped your hand, instead bracing himself on the roof of the car and leaning down into you. Your body was on fire and he wasn't even making contact anymore. 

"I think you know." 

"I think I want to hear anyway." 

You just couldn't give into that. A challenge had been issued, and by God were you going see it through. 

"I want to feel my husband's hands around my throat. I want to feel his heartbeat pressed against mine. I want him to hold my hand as he pounds into me. And I want him to cum so deep inside of me that it doesn't even drip out." Each word was hushed, even in the stillness of the basement. It looked empty, but you never knew who'd snuck into their cars before you'd arrived. Or even after, as you focused all your will and energy on Spencer. 

To his credit, he didn't move, barely even batted an eye. He just nodded down at you, and smiled slowly, letting it spread across his lips in a wild grin, as if you'd just said the sweetest words to him instead of the dirtiest. 

"Your husband is a lucky man." 

"He could be, but he hasn't opened the car door for me yet, so who knows." You dared to touch him then, snaking one hand up his chest into his hair, and slowly pulling his head down for a kiss as you pushed yourself up. 

His arms didn't move until the second you touched, abuzz with the contact as you suddenly found yourself stuck together as if glued. His lips slip expertly over your own, as your thoughts run amok with glee. You'd won, and he was your prize. He pressed you back into the car, letting his hands explore more and more of you as he got carried away by your scent, the feeling of you under his hands, the taste of you on his lips. 

He finally pulled away and put three metres of space between you, physically far enough that he couldn't touch you as he turned away, trying to wipe you from his lips. 

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't be doing that here. Someone could see us." 

"I don't care." His eyes shot back to yours with a tilt of his head that you knew was him asking you if you really meant that. "I don't care who sees us, because I want them to know who you belong to."

"Are you sure you're not going to avoid me for weeks again if I keep kissing you?" 

"Spencer, I want you to do much more than just kissing me this time."

The grin bloomed on your lips before you could stop it, so proud to be claiming him publicly now. 

You could see the hesitation on Spencer's face as he risked pulling you back in, likely running the worst case scenarios of taking you right then and there in the car (misdemeanour charge of public sex, 1-2 years of probation, demotion from BAU, registry on a sex offenders list etc.) and collected his thoughts. He so would have liked to have hiked your skirt up then and there, but he doesn't even have to ask to know your opinion on the matter. 

You could practically hear him counting to ten. 

"Get in the car." 

"Say it nicely and I'll think about it." He raised an eyebrow, keeping eye contact as he opened his mouth one more time. 

"Get in the car, Mrs. Reid. Or do you need to be manhandled into it." 

As much as you're sure you would have enjoyed that, you chose not to push it too far. So you did as you were told, little sparks of heat flying up and down your body as you replayed the possessive tone he'd used to say your name. 

The car was cold, but you feel it warm up more as he closes the door behind you and climbs into the driver's seat. It increases tenfold when he leans over to pull your seatbelt into place, and dissipates entirely when he rests his hand on your leg and doesn't move it for the rest of the ride. 

Your almost disappointed by just how locked in it is, wishing desperately that it would go further up, right to where you wanted him. You even tried to press the issue, literally, with your hands. 

"Y/N, if I touch you anymore than this, we're not making it home. And there aren't many secluded spots on the side of the road, and I'm pretty jealous when it comes to things that are mine." You try not to melt at the words, but you fail, your legs dropping apart naturally. 

You expect him to take you to his place, excited to finally christen the bed you'd slept in peacefully twice. But as the scenery around you changes, becoming infinitely more familiar, you realise that's not the direction you're going. 

"This is the way to my apartment." It's less of a question, more of a statement, but he nods at you in confirmation. 

"You said you wanted to go home. I'm taking you home." 

"Spencer, your apartment would've been fine, that's your home."

"My home is wherever you are. We're here." He turns the engine off and climbs out of the car, leaving your heart fizzing with adoration. 

He finishes the conversation as he opens the door, offering you a hand and pulling you up so quickly you stumble into his chest as his lips fall to your ears. 

"Besides, your place is closer." Heat pooled between your legs, only growing with each step as your body reacted to having him closer and closer to your bed. 

"Didn't want to fuck me in the car though?" 

"I wanted something better for our first time." 

"This isn't our first time, Spencer." Your back hits the door of your apartment as you round on him, needing to see his eyes as you remind him that you know what he feels like inside of you. 

"How much do you remember?" He asks, not stepping closer, but not moving away either, eyes roaming your body alight with bodily hunger. 

"I remember the way you feel. The way you taste. I remember all the carnal details and none of the practical ones, and I'm beginning to think that maybe they're the only ones that matter." You wet your lips and glance down to his. A moment's hesitation is all he needs to attack you again, pushing his entire body weight into you as his lips find yours again. 

He's hot and he's hard and he's big and he's pushing against you so strongly you fear he's going to push you straight through the door, no unlocking needed. He pulls back just long enough for you to remind him of it though, but his only reaction is turning you around so his crotch is against your ass. 

"Go ahead and unlock it then." His lips find their way to the sensitive spot on your neck, and you wonder if it's luck or skill that puts him there, how he knew it would drive you crazy. 

It takes multiple attempts to open the door, and you're growing impatient in your lust, letting out tiny whimpers in frustration. You feel like your three more failed attempts away from stomping your feet and throwing yourself to the floor in a tantrum when his hand comes up so steady your own, pushing the key into the door first try. 

"You just needed some help getting it in, it's okay." The innocent words do nothing to distract from his hot cock resting at your ass, and you almost roll your eyes at the irony of the moment as he guides you inside. 

He turns you again and your lips lock in desperation. He hits the light switch and you don't stop. Your legs hit the back of your sofa, and you don't stop. Your unbuttoning his shirt and you don't stop, nearing the end of your tether, ready to feel him snap right back into you like a taught wire. 

"You're not even inside me yet and you already feel this good…" You whisper the words as he words down your neck, paying special attention to your pressure points, like he's memorised all the spots on your body that leave you weak in the knees. You can feel his smile as he attempts to undo you. 

Until he pulls away. Looking down at you as if you were a work of art and he the painter, he nods in satisfaction, before lifting you bridal style. 

"It's time for us to get into bed." 

"Well, aren't you the gentleman? Where I'm from, it's called fucking, Spencer." He almost flinches at the vulgarity, but you brush it off, letting him throw you down onto your bed. 

He starts working on the buttons of his sleeves, rolling them up neatly to his elbows in preparation for something important, but you don't give him the chance. 

Slipping off the bed, you make your way to your knees, where it becomes achingly apparent that the buttons on his pants also need to be pried open. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks, a little ticked off by your movements. 

"I'm getting ready to please my husband, obviously. Isn't that what good little wives do?" You finally slip him from his pants, letting his erection answer the question for him. 

"I'm in charge."

"And I like it that way," you say, opening your mouth wide as he grabs his cock in his hand, and sticking your tongue out nice and far as he let's it graze your top lip. 

He pushes deep into your mouth before grabbing your throat. You try not to splutter around him, relaxing and taking as much as he's giving. 

"Go ahead then, if you think you can handle it." The words shoot straight to your core, and you eagerly begin pumping your mouth up and down his erect penis. 

"Good Little cock sucker, this is what I married you for." His grip runs up to your hair, grabbing a chunk of it in his hands as he follows your movements around his cock. 

"You look so pretty on your knees for me like that," he says, pulling your mouth over his entire cock and keeping him there. "I'm gonna make you feel so good later, baby, just you wait."

He continues like that, using his grip to masturbate with your mouth, moaning and groaning at your touch until your ready to feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat. 

His release doesn't come though, and instead he's pulling your head off and discarding you below him. Climbing onto the bed, you eagerly watch him as he takes a seat, making himself comfortable and not even sparing a glance your way, still sat on your knees on the floor, spit and tears decorating your face, eyes wild with lust. 

"I'm not getting on my knees for you, princess. If you want me to pleasure you, you're going to have to climb right into my lap yourself." 

His explanation had your legs snapping shut as you squeeze them together, desperate for release. 

You do as you're told once again, climbing onto the bed and crawling into the generous space he's made between his legs. 

He positions you where he wants you, your back to his chest as he used his large hands to press your legs wide. 

"That's it, open wide for me princess."

"What are you, a horny dentist?" You laugh at his words, but he grabs your jaw and tilts it up to him, capturing your lips in a rough embrace. The air doesn't return to your lungs until he touches your cunt, and then it comes in a sharp gasp that leaves your head spinning. 

Maybe it's him that's actually having that affect. 

"You like that? You like me rubbing your little dripping pussy through your panties? Y/N, I'm not even touching you directly." The words are matter-of-fact, like he's astounded you're so fucking wet for him, but not shocked, knowing how much of a dirty little whore you were for him. 

His hands on you, the extra friction from your panties, his words in your ear, it's all too much as you find an orgasm rippling through your body, leaving you twitching as you ride it out on his fingers. 

"Where do you keep your condoms?" 

"I don't." He sighs in your ear, and you can feel him try to move himself so he can go and grab one from his bag or his car or somewhere even further from where you need him.

"Spenced, we're married." You whisper into his ear, nestling back further into his chest. 

"What are you suggesting?" 

"We're married, and it looks like we're staying married. I don't care where your nut goes as long as its inside me or painted over my body." 

He pushes you onto the bed on your back then as he pushed his remaining clothing off, taking yours with it while he's at it. His grabs the base of his cock, and the pre-cum dribbles out. You watch with all the hunger of a wolf seeing a rabbit, desperate to have him inside you one way of another. 

"That's it, slide your cock into my PUSSY, Spencer. Put it right where it belongs." 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, as he uses the top of his cock to press against your clit, not bothering to enter you just yet. 

"What's wrong with this? Aren't I still getting you off like this? Not risking anything letting my cock sit here, letting myself cream on this beautiful mound." His words and motions on your clit are too much and you cum again the teasing is so good. 

In your bleary daze, he finally pushes into you, and you scream his name at the contact. 

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. God Spencer, you feel so good, so big for me." Gratitude is the only thing running through your mind, thankful as you are to have him buried deep. 

His thrusts are hard, fast and wet, and you hear them every step of the way as he spits down to the place you connect. You moan desperately, unable to form words by now as he snaps his hips into you violently, taking and taking and taking. 

But soon, it's his turn to give, and he's asking where he should be doing it. 

"Want my cum inside of you? Want it right here?" His hands fall to the bulge in your stomach, to the place where you can feel him pushing into and pulling out of you, the place where you can feel him grazing your walls. 

"Those other types of orgasm, I'm gonna give them all to you. I'm going to clamp your nipples and eat you out so you associate the pain with pleasure. I'm going to put a vibrator on your clit and leave you tied up until you've soaked the sheets. I'm going to pump you do full of cum that it's dripping from every whole on your body. I'm going to fuck you in the office and see how many people find out. Is that how you like it?"

You try to hold it back, to prologue the pleasure, but you csnt and it rips through you, your juices pushing out of you in a shudder, soaking Spencer's cock as he lifts your leg and deepens his angle. 

"How do you feel better than I remembered?" He moans as he begins shooting his load into you, cumming in you with a deep moan, locking his lips against that same spot on your neck. 

Maybe it's the post-nut clarity, maybe it's just the words that accidentally ripped from his mouth, but you're suddenly wide awake, the cloud of lust that had been shading you vanishing in an downpour of rain. 

He pulls out of you with a kiss to your lips and runs to the bathroom to grab you something to wash up with. He returns cheerfully, and begins his work, but you grab his hand and stop him as the realisation hits you. 

"Y/N, I'm almost finished, just let me clean you up." 

"What did you mean? When you said I felt better than you remembered?" 

He stills, trying to search for the right words to say. He obviously doesn't find them, because he evades his eyes and continues cleaning you up, not answering. 

"Spencer, do not fucking ignore me. What did you mean?" 

"I'm sorry." That's all he says, and you feel bile rise in your throat. He kneels between your legs and runs a hand through his hair, discarding the washcloth and putting some distance between the two of you. 

"You're sorry?! Spencer, look at me right now." It takes him a minute, but he finally meets your gaze. 

"Spencer, how long has it been since you remembered everything?" You try to hope, to wish this was all a misunderstanding, that he was going to tell you right after he cleaned you up, but you interrupted him. 

"Y/N, I have an eidetic memory…" The way his voice cracks finally has tears welling in your eyes. "I never forgot. How could I?" 

The wind ripples into the window, and as the temperature drops so does your heart. It falls to the floor and shatters into pieces as you discover his lie. 

"I think you should go. Go home." You say, as a tear finally escapes your eye, your stomach turning with the discovery that he really was too good to be true. 

"Y/N, please-"

"No. I want to be alone, let me… let me think, please." 

"Y/N, really, I think we should-" 

"Get out!" You shout, and that when your body starts heaving in sobs as you pick up anything near that you can find to gather up around yourself. The strength of your outrage, the display of emotions temporarily startles Spencer into supplication, and he gathers his clothes quickly. 

You sob watching him move around the busy space, you sob as he turns around to try to speak again, abandoning each attempt. You sob the hardest when he leaves, and you are alone in your apartment with all the weight of his dishonesty pushed upon you. 

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #reiderreplies #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dom spencer reid #Series: That's What You Get

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 10. austin

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel travel to Austin to meet with a lawyer.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, flirting, sexual tension, emotional abuse, infidelity, some recapping of DV and SA situations but nothing new, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected (reader previously mentions she's on bc) piv sex

WC: 6.6K

A/N: I have started a notification blog - @punkshort-notifs if you are interested in following for fic updates (but I will be keeping the tag list for this series until it is over)

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

Life carried on the way it always does. Without permission, regardless of any pain or suffering, it always remained a constant. Whether you were present or not, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or hide from it, it didn't matter, because life always carried on.

The first week was the worst. A week of what you could only describe as depression. A week of being alone. Safe, but terribly alone. Going to work helped distract you, until he came in for lunch like always and it felt like your heart was being torn in two all over again. And you could tell it hurt him, too, but you both seemed willing to withstand the pain over not seeing each other at all. Because even though it hurt, it was a reminder you were alive. A reminder that you could still care enough about somebody else, despite everything.

The second week was when you could no longer smell him in your bed. You woke up one morning, eyes barely even open as you searched around the pillowcase, then the sheets, grabbing and pulling at the fabric, desperate to seek out his scent to no avail.

The third week was when you finally didn't have to fight the urge to call or text him, even though he said you could, you knew it would just make things harder. And he must have agreed because he didn't reach out, either.

The fourth week was when you began to feel like you were finally coming out of your slump. You could go to the grocery store or pharmacy and didn't feel your heart skip a beat, you didn't scan the parking lot for his truck in the hopes of running into him. You didn't stop thinking about him, but it just hurt less. That is, until you ran into Hailey coming back from work one evening.

She was out on the sidewalk, cleaning up some garbage from the picnic tables in front of the pizzeria when you waved and caught her eye. You could immediately tell something was wrong by the pained smile she gave you.

"Hey," she said, the smile not reaching her eyes as she leaned up against her broom.

"What's going on?" you asked her. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I know, sorry. Work's been-" she waved in the direction of the propped open door and shook her head. "But I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh?"

"It's about book club," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground. "And I just want to let you know, I voted against it-"

"They don't want me back, do they?" you offered, trying to make it easier for her. She sighed and shook her head.

"It's all so stupid, I'm sorry," she said, looking up at you again. "Nikki's got all those old ladies wrapped around her finger and they're just pissed Joel dumped her for... well, y'know."

"They know we aren't together, right? I mean, I'm married..." you trailed off, not wishing to go into too much detail when you knew eventually when you went to court, all your dirty laundry would be aired.

"Yeah, they do. Still, they blame you, and it's stupid, like I said. They should be mad at Joel, it's not like it's your fault, and I swear I tried explaining that-"

"It's okay," you said, holding up your hand and giving her a sad smile. "I appreciate it, but it's fine. I have a lot coming up, anyway. I won't find that much time to read."

"But we can still hang out! Do you wanna go get drinks this weekend? Or maybe see a movie?" Hailey asked, and you could tell she genuinely felt bad.

"Yeah, either of those sound great," you said. "I'll text you and we can figure something out."

You made a hasty exit and dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment. Even though you probably wouldn't have continued to go, the rejection still stung.

For a while, the silence was deafening. Without a TV to even distract you, leaving you with endless amounts of time to overthink, you were worried you were going insane. You lucked out recently and found a decent TV at a thrift store, so you at least had something to occupy your time, although you knew it would be short lived. In a couple days, you had an appointment to meet with a law firm in Austin. An appointment Joel had set up and offered to attend with you, and at the time, you were so desperate for anything to do with him, you agreed, but now you were wondering if that was a bad idea. Almost two hours in the car alone with Joel? No, that didn't seem like a good idea at all.

"Whadd'ya mean, you wanna drive separate?" Joel asked as you refilled his coffee. "That doesn't make any sense. Waste of gas."

"Yeah, but I was thinking of staying an extra day. Check out the city," you lied, turning your back to him so he wouldn't be able to see through you.

"Alone?"

You cringed at the word, but nodded. The little dinner bell rang in the window and your eyes jumped up just in time to see Thor put Joel's sandwich on the small shelf. You grabbed the plate and set it down in front of him, his eyes still boring into you, waiting for a better explanation.

"I think it'll just be easier," you said quietly, the words only meant for his ears. When he connected the dots, he leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"Oh," he said, gaze drifting down to his food. "That's a shame. I was lookin' forward to it."

"I'm sorry," you told him, grabbing a rag and pretending to wipe down the counter so your conversation didn't invite gossip and speculation. "So was I. That's the problem."

"And if I promise to behave myself, would you reconsider?" he teased, finally making you smile a little.

"I think you're incapable of behaving yourself, Sheriff," you replied, making him chuckle.

This was what your relationship had been reduced to: quick, flirty exchanges over coffee and turkey clubs. You supposed it was better than nothing.

"C'mon, it's just a couple hours. If you want, you can nap or listen to music," he said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

"Fine," you relented, but only because once you offered taking two cars out loud, you realized how stupid it sounded.

"Pick you up at 7?" he asked around a mouth full of food.

"Sure. Do I need to prepare anything? I've never gotten this far in the process before," you told him, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Nope. Helen already sent over all the reports and once the process gets started, they'll reach out to whatever hospital you went to back in Philly to get your emergency room medical reports," he explained, and you nodded along, feeling fidgety. "I'm sure they'll do some more digging while they're at it. Reach out to his police captain and all that."

"Right," you said, biting your nail.

"One step at a time, alright?" he told you softly, picking up on your nerves. "You already did your part, now let the lawyers do theirs."

"But I'll have to testify," you reminded him, and he slowly nodded.

"Most likely, yes. You don't have to, but it'll help your case if you do."

"And he'll be there?" you asked, wringing the towel between your hands.

"Yeah, he'll be there," Joel said, watching your face fall. "But I'll be there, too. You just look at me when the time comes, don't look at him."

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath. You knew this would be hard, but you also knew it was necessary. "And this lawyer - they can help me get a divorce?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay," you said again. You forced yourself to smile even though the anxiety was already creeping up. "I can do this," you told him, trying to sound confident.

"Hell yes, you can do this," he replied. "That's my girl," he added, picking up his sandwich then pausing before taking a bite. He glanced up at you and gave you half a smirk when he noticed the look on your face at the term of endearment. "Sorry, I'll behave."

You had initially dreaded waking up so early, but after the restless night's sleep you ended up having, it turned out it didn't make much of a difference. Your appointment was at 9:30 and it took about two hours to get to Austin, so Joel arriving at 7am gave you a decent cushion in case there was traffic.

Already two cups of coffee down, you poured the rest into a travel thermos and grabbed your purse before jogging lightly down your stairs. You locked your door and turned towards the street to find Joel's truck parked right out front. Glancing around, you noticed it was fairly quiet still, which was a relief. Joel didn't have to take you to see a lawyer. His job was technically done until the trial. He was doing this for you, to give you some support and advice and it would be ideal if you could keep people from gossiping about it for as long as possible.

"Mornin'," he greeted you with a lazy smile, which perked right up when you handed him the thermos. "Oh, you're an angel, baby," he murmured, taking a sip with an appreciative groan. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on your seatbelt. Less than two minutes and he already had you squirming in your seat.

The first hour of the trip actually turned out to be relatively quiet. You sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the radio while Joel hummed along and tapped the steering wheel and if you closed your eyes, you could imagine the scene just a little differently. Instead of Joel taking you to see a lawyer in Austin so you could press charges and divorce your abusive husband, you imagined you were taking a road trip together. Maybe with no destination in mind: just the two of you and the open road, stopping whenever you saw fit to explore and staying at roadside motels with stiff sheets and shag carpets, limbs tangled together as you panted into each other's mouths. No secrets. No drama. You smiled to yourself, the fantasy giving you a pleasant reminder of what you could have if you just stayed strong.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked, and your eyes opened to look at him.

"Nothing," you said, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth. God, you missed that tongue and what it could do.

"When all this is over, do you think we can take a road trip together?" you asked him, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah, 'course we can," he replied, glancing over at you briefly before looking back at the road. "Where did you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter," you said, rolling the back of your head against the seat. "Just wanna be with you," you added, softer this time. He looked over at you again, examining your face quickly before focusing back on the road.

"Me too, baby," he said, just as softly.

Joel stopped at a gas station just outside the city to fuel up and stretch your legs. After using the restroom, you wandered up and down the aisles while Joel pumped gas just outside. You were the only one in the store, aside from the sleazy cashier with greasy hair and nicotine stained teeth leering at you every time you crossed his field of vision.

You decided on a couple waters and some sugary pastries and made your way up to the front, forcing a polite smile for the cashier, whose eyes were greedily raking up and down your frame as you approached. You were wearing a modest dress with a cardigan, doing your best to look put together for your appointment, but that didn't stop the cashier's eyes from roaming.

"That all?" he asked as he began to ring you up. You nodded and hummed before glancing out the window, watching as Joel replaced the nozzle on the pump.

"$8.32," he told you, his eyes dropping to your chest as you pulled out a ten dollar bill from your wallet and handed it to him. Your fingertips tapped impatiently on the counter as he slowly counted out your change, clearly trying to prolong the interaction longer than necessary. When it appeared he was ready to hand over the money, you held your hand out, but he pulled your change back a bit and leaned forward.

"You from 'round here?"

"No, just passing through," you said, lifting your hand again, but he clenched your change in his fist.

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' out here all by yourself?" he sneered, his hand dropping below the counter to not so subtly adjust himself in his pants. You made a disgusted face and he smirked.

"She ain't alone," Joel's deep voice rang out from behind you. The cashier's eyes drifted over your shoulder and looked like he was about to make a snide comment when you felt Joel's hand around your waist. His eyes fell to Joel's belt and saw the badge and gun and the smirk he was sporting a moment ago vanished. He quickly handed you back your change and busied himself with organizing the cigarettes while Joel tugged on your waist, urging you to back towards the parking lot.

"And you wanted to drive separate," Joel teased as he led you towards his truck. He opened the passenger door and stepped back so you could get in but you paused and looked up at him. His forehead crinkled as he grinned, his eyes squinting in the sun and all you wanted to do was kiss him and never stop.

"What?" he finally asked when you didn't make a move to get into the car.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you murmured, and you watched the grin slip from his face and his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"We can't," he replied, his voice pained as his gaze continued to drift from your eyes to your lips.

"I know," you sighed. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering a moment longer than you should have before climbing into his truck. His breathing stuttered, the feeling of your lips on his skin again sending him into a tailspin. He took a deep breath and looked up at you in the cab, putting on your seatbelt.

"Soon," he told you, giving your leg a squeeze before closing the door.

"So you mentioned you know some of these lawyers?" you asked him as he drove through downtown Austin.

"Yeah, I've dealt with this law firm a lot on some cases over the years. They're good people, as far as lawyers go," he joked before making a right hand turn. "I asked to meet with one of the women. Her name's Madeline. She's nice. Been there a real long time. Thought you'd feel more comfortable with that," he said, and you nodded.

"Thank you," you told him for maybe the twentieth time that day. You were convinced if not for Joel, you never would have made it this far. You would have had no idea where to even begin, but he knew the answers to all those questions and helped give you the confidence you so desperately needed.

Your hands began to shake and your stomach felt like it was in knots as the two of you walked up to the front doors of the impressive four-story building. Men and women streamed in and out of the doors, most dressed in suits and pencil skirts and talking on their phones hurriedly. You swallowed the lump in your throat once you got to the front of the building, but Joel held the door open for you with a reassuring smile.

"Don't be nervous, it'll be alright," he murmured as you walked up to the large receptionist desk that housed two women with headsets on, typing furiously into their computers. One looked up and caught your eye, giving you a friendly smile.

"Mornin'," Joel said, telling the young woman your name and appointment time. She glanced at her computer and nodded before looking back up at you both with another smile.

"I'll let her know you're here, you can take a seat. It shouldn't be very long," the woman said, casting Joel one more admiring glance before she turned back to her phone and dialed a number.

Joel led you over to some plush couches and chairs and you nervously picked up an old magazine. You skimmed through it, just looking for something to occupy your hands as you waited. He sat down next to you, then inched closer so he could rest his arm along the back of the couch. It felt like he was wrapping his arms around you without actually touching you, and it gave you a temporary sense of peace.

After a few minutes of listening to the receptionists answer the phones and transfer calls, you finally heard your name and Joel's. You both looked up to find a thin, middle aged woman with short, blonde hair and glasses and a kind smile waiting for you.

"Maddy," Joel said warmly, and the hairs on the back of your neck went up. He wouldn't have asked an ex-girlfriend to represent you, would he?

"Joel, long time no see," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before introducing herself to you and shaking your hand.

"That's usually a good thing," he reminded her as the two of you followed her down a long hallway, passing by a few empty conference rooms and closed doors that presumably lead to offices.

"Yes, very true," she agreed with a chuckle before stopping in front of her office. She extended an arm, inviting the two of you to enter first before she followed and closed the door behind her.

"How's Tracy?" Joel asked, glancing at a photo on her desk as you sat down.

"She's great. It's our ten year anniversary this summer. We're planning a cruise," she said, settling into her desk chair and shooting you a smile.

Okay, so probably not an ex.

"Alright, let's not waste any time. I know you drove a long way to get here," Madeline said, clasping her hands together on her desk and giving you another smile. She gave off a positive energy, and you could feel yourself loosening up. "I read over everything Joel sent over so I know the basics, and I am so sorry for everything you've had to endure," she said, her eyes softening. "But can you explain to me why you've never tried to come forward before? Trust me, his lawyer will bring it up."

"Well, I have tried," you began, your fingers tangling together in your lap. "I've gone to the police a handful of times but every time I thought I was making progress, Patrick would do something - call in a favor, I don't know," you said with a shrug. "And my police reports magically disappeared. I've gone to the hospital on several occasions-"

"That's right, I did read that. Which hospital?" she asked, picking up a pen, the tip hovering over a legal pad.

"There were a few different ones," you said, then rattled off the names and approximate dates you visited each hospital.

"Okay. We'll reach out and get copies of those records for the trial," she said, dropping the pen and looking at you to continue.

You went on to tell her about your experience with the police back in Philadelphia and how angry Patrick would get after those visits. You told her about his disappearances for days at a time and how he would come home in a haze, no doubt with alcohol and some type of drug in his veins, how those were the times he hurt you the most.

By the time you got to the part in your story where you packed a bag and left Philadelphia during one of Patrick's benders, you felt a lot more at ease. Your nerves were gone and Madeline's comforting gaze made it so much easier to tell her everything.

"So the next step in the process is discovery. Our team here is going to be digging up dirt back in Philly, and I am sure Patrick's lawyer is already doing the same thing," she said, putting down her pen and looking at you over her glasses. "That being said: is there anything I need to know? I don't like surprises in court. I don't care if you ever smoked weed or pushed him back, I just need to know so I can get ahead of it." You quickly shook your head.

"No, I've never tried drugs and I never hit him back." You glanced over at Joel for the first time and found him staring at you with a look in his eye that made you believe you were thinking about the same thing. After a moment, you turned back to Madeline, about to open your mouth to speak when Joel cut you off.

"There's one more thing," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair. She looked at him curiously, clearly not expecting him to have anything to add. "We, uh," he cleared his throat and glanced over at you. "We had a brief, personal relationship," he said. Madeline sat back in her chair and you could have sworn she was glaring at him. "It's over. It was just once," he continued, and you nodded quickly, trying to help him out.

"Nobody knows, either," you told her, drawing her gaze back onto you. "Patrick had his suspicions, but he also accused me of sleeping with two cooks from work, which is untrue," you clarified, "he's just jealous and angry."

"How can you be sure nobody knows?" she asked, and you paused.

"W-well, nobody..." you trailed off, looking at Joel for help.

"It's a small town, Maddy. If people knew, they'd be talkin'. Trust me," he said, rolling his eyes. "The most anyone knows is I had a little crush on her, but nothin' more."

"Besides. Patrick's cheated on me for years. I'm not an idiot, I could smell the perfume on his jacket and found the condom wrappers in his pants pocket," you told her, but she shook her head.

"This is a little different, hun," she said, leaning forward. "Joel's the town sheriff. He arrested Patrick and broke his nose. It's going to look like he had ulterior motives," she said, lifting up a piece of paper in front of her to double check her notes.

"I didn't break his nose, the table broke his nose. It was self-defense. The guy's got nothin'," Joel scoffed.

"Yeah you're probably right, but he's still going to make your life a living hell in court," Madeline said. "You looking for representation, too?"

"What?!" you exclaimed, turning in your seat to look at Joel. "He's suing you?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. Happens from time to time, nothin' ever comes from it," he said casually.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you asked, your voice softening.

"Didn't wanna worry you. You gotta focus on this," he said, pointing to Madeline. "The other shit doesn't matter."

You wanted to argue with him but you knew your time was running short, so you let it go.

"Well at least you had the good sense not to take her statement," she said, glancing down at the papers before her. "Let's just hope it doesn't come up, and if it does, I'll be prepared," she said, making a note to herself before giving you her attention again. "I'll do my best to fast track this and set a court date. I'll have my team call his superior officer and we'll run some checks on him, call the hospitals, and start building your case. I'll be in touch soon about any potential witnesses you can bring to the stand that you trust. Anybody who might have witnessed Patrick abusing you, even if he was just yelling or twisting your arm. People you confided in. Anybody you might think can help, start thinking about it now and gathering contact info, okay?"

"Okay," you said firmly. You were starting to feel better, like this was the beginning of the end. And you had the feeling that Madeline was the right person to fight for you. She seemed honest and straight forward, understanding yet tough. This was someone who would give you your freedom back.

"And I can get a divorce?" you asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, I'm going to file the petition this afternoon and he will be served the papers," she explained. "If he contests it, we can cross that bridge when we come to it, but I'm hoping with all the fire we're throwing at him, he won't want to put up a fight."

"Thank you," you breathed, feeling even more at ease now that something was actually happening today. Any amount of progress at this point made you feel good.

You stayed another hour to review an endless amount of paperwork: the contract with the law firm, reviewing your statement for any inaccuracies, initialing and dating next to so many paragraphs on the petition to be filed that your eyes were going blurry by the end.

As you both stood up to follow Madeline out of her office, you stopped short.

"Wait, what about payment? I don't think we discussed legal fees in the contract," you said, frowning as you pulled your copy of the contract out from under your arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought Joel already told you," she said, glancing over at Joel, who dropped his gaze to his shoes. "The partners picked your case pro bono. The firm has to do a certain number each year and Joel suggested to a few of the right people that your case should be considered."

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

"Are you kidding me?" you whispered in shock, trying to fight the tears that were beginning to spring up. You looked at Joel but he averted his gaze before awkwardly clearing his throat.

"It's no big deal-" he began, but you cut him off.

"No, it is a big deal," you told him, and he clamped his mouth shut. Madeline's eyes flicked between the two of you for a moment, watching as you tried and failed to come up with the right words to convey your gratitude.

"The firm is happy to represent you, hun," Madeline said, breaking the silence. "We're gonna make sure this guy gets what's coming to him, understand?"

You tore your eyes away from Joel, who was finding it difficult to look anywhere but the floor.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," you told her, and she smiled before extending her arm towards the door.

As you walked towards the lobby, she was reminding you to expect a call in a few days with an update and to have a list of contacts ready for her, but you just nodded along numbly, barely listening.

Joel had already gone above and beyond by finding you a good lawyer and coming with you for support, but to also convince them to handle your legal fees? He didn't have to do any of this, but he did, and he didn't expect anything in return. Nobody had ever expressed so much concern about you before. And as you walked in silence towards the parking garage, you realized there could only be one explanation. There could only be one reason why he would do so much, and the thought had your heart pounding in your chest.

You drove in silence for a while, the atmosphere in the truck tense. He tried putting music on but you couldn't focus on anything other than everything that happened in the past few hours. Then you started to go back even further: cleaning your apartment and finding you furniture after Patrick vandalized it, walking you home during a rain storm, fixing your fucking sink when you had barely spoken two sentences to him. You rolled your head to the side, watching him as he focused on the freeway, his grip tight around the steering wheel.

"Look at me," you said quietly, and you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. After too long of a pause, he just said one word.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm drivin'."

"Bullshit," you said, and watched his throat bob as he swallowed nervously. You continued to stare him down, willing him to look at you, needing to see into his eyes to confirm your suspicion.

"Please, Joel," you finally said, your voice small. You could see the conflict in his face. The way his lips formed a hard line and his brows pinched together as he fought the urge, but once again he found he couldn't say no.

Slowly, he pulled his gaze off the road and forced himself to look at you. Your lips parted as you looked right through him and he knew right then and there he was fucked.

"Pull over," you mumbled, and he just nodded. He could feel the heat of your gaze on him as he took the nearest exit and pulled into a parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

He didn't need to ask and you didn't bother to explain.

Once he parked, doing his best to choose a secluded spot, you each ripped off your seatbelts. He reached down to pull the lever below his seat and slid it back as far as it would go and in broad daylight, you climbed over the console to straddle his lap. His hands flew to your hips as you gripped the sides of his face, searching his eyes frantically before your mouth crashed down over his with a moan.

Joel was normally a strong man, but something about you always made him so weak. Weak and selfish and desperate and he wouldn't have it any other way. That's why, even though he knew it was a mistake, he kissed you back. Your tongues tangled together and when your hands slid up to his hair, he was done for. You were too warm and tasted too sweet and felt too fucking good, it was a miracle he came to his senses when your hand dropped down between you to land on his belt and he managed to pull away.

"That's not why I did all this," he said, each of you panting for air. "I didn't do it so I could fuck you."

"I know," you assured him, cupping the back of his neck. "I know why you did it."

He gazed up at you and slowly nodded.

"Reckon it's pretty obvious, huh?" he said softly, toying with the hem of your dress.

You didn't say anything in return. Instead, you lowered your mouth hungrily over his and he happily obliged. And when your hand drifted back down to his belt, he didn't stop you. He couldn't deny it any longer. He tried, he really did, but it was hopeless.

He wouldn't say the words out loud, and you were grateful. Because if he had, you weren't sure you would be able to convince yourself this was a one-time thing. Madeline's disapproving glare was seared into the back of your mind, her comments about Joel's own lawsuit still very much a concern, but when you lowered yourself onto him, each of you groaning your need into each other's mouths as you stretched around him, it all became a distant memory.

"Missed you so much," you mumbled against his skin as your mouth dragged down his jaw. You rolled your hips, slowly at first, but picked up the pace when you remembered you were in the middle of a parking lot and didn't have much time. "You feel so good," you continued, feeling his arms tense around you as he tried to hold himself back. "Think about you all the time. Especially in bed - ah!" you cried out when he began bucking up into you.

"Yeah? You touch yourself when you think about me?" he grunted in your ear, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you nodded. His hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements up and down while his mouth ghosted over your chest, wishing more than ever he could glide his tongue over your nipples, but he was too aware of where you were. He settled for yanking the sleeve of your dress down, exposing your shoulder so his teeth and facial hair could leave little red marks, hidden from view.

"Can't get enough of you, can't fuckin' stay away," he groaned, watching as you circled your hips, greedily chasing your own pleasure. Your arm shot out to the side, seeking leverage against the now foggy window, your fingers leaving telltale streaks as your hand slowly dragged downwards so when he got into his truck the next morning, he would see the ghost of your hand in the early morning dew.

"Joel," you whined, tossing your head back while you began to bounce, your ass accidentally beeping the horn and making you both laugh. Nothing could harm you here. Not when you had each other. Not when you had the feel of his rough hands over your skin and his soft lips against your mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "C'mon, baby. Want you to feel me tomorrow," he said, lifting his hips up to meet yours, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You gasped as your body went rigid, a white hot heat ripping through you while your legs began to shake and you whimpered his name over and over. You heard Joel groan and say something, probably a warning he was close, but you couldn't be sure. You nodded and mumbled some encouragement but your mind was still too fuzzy and your ears were practically ringing from the force of your orgasm. But when his teeth sunk into your shoulder, the slight pain snapped you out of it. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you down firmly onto his lap until his body stilled and he grunted into your skin.

You rested your cheek on the top of his head while his face stayed buried in your chest, both of you fighting for air as reality slowly began to sink in.

"Guess I didn't behave myself," he finally said with a chuckle. You grinned and lazily raised your head up so you could look at him.

"I think I'll take the blame for this one," you said before lifting off of him with a little gasp and moving your underwear back in place. You were about to swing your leg back over to your seat when he stopped you.

"Just another minute," he said, his hands mindlessly sliding up and down your thighs, and you draped your arms around his neck.

"We shouldn't do this again," you finally said, breaking the spell. He sighed and nodded but his hands continued to glide up and down your legs.

"I know."

You cupped his face and tilted his chin up to look at you. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks as you stared into his eyes, still seeing everything he didn't have the courage to say. Leaning down, you pressed a tender kiss against his lips, then rested your foreheads together.

"Thank you, Joel."

"You're welcome, baby."

As promised, a few days later, Madeline's secretary reached out for a list of contacts that could be called upon to support your case. You didn't have many people in your corner, but you gave her your cousin's information back in Philadelphia, an old co-worker who you had partially confided in when the abuse started, a few friends who had noticed bruises but you had made up excuses for them at the time, and you reluctantly gave your mother's information, with the note to discuss with you first before contacting her.

You had hoped Madeline wouldn't want to call on your mother to testify. You hadn't spoken to her since you ran away to Texas, and given the way she responded when you told her what Patrick was doing, you weren't confident she would be a good witness. But it was still someone from your past who you confided in, and that was what Madeline was looking for: a trail of evidence, cries for help, anything to prove the most recent incident was not a one off situation.

"Madeline called me today," you told Joel after picking up his empty plate.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"She reviewed all the contacts I gave to her secretary and she scheduled another appointment for next week."

"Great, what day?" he asked, pulling out his phone.

"Tuesday," you said, replacing his coffee with a glass of ice water. He glanced up at you and quirked an eyebrow. "You drink too much caffeine," you explained, and he grinned.

"Ah, shit. I have a thing at Sarah's school that day. Lemme see if I can reschedule it-"

"No, go to Sarah's school, I wasn't telling you so you would come with me, I was just... letting you know," you said with a shrug.

"You sure?" he questioned, and you nodded.

"I'm sure. I know how to get there now and I feel comfortable with Madeline. I swear, I'll be fine," you told him. He put his phone down on the counter and thought for a moment before leaning forward and lowering his voice.

"This ain't 'bout what happened last time, is it?"

"No!" you said in surprise, and he looked relieved. "Not at all. I'm just trying to... I don't know, take control of my life, I guess?" He nodded but he still looked confused. "What I mean is, I think it's important I do some things for myself. Not that I don't appreciate-"

"I get it," he said with a chuckle as he stood up from his stool. "You just let me know if you change your mind."

"Okay," you replied with a smile, but stopped him when you realized he hadn't touched his water. You held the glass out to him and he stared at it, then looked at you with a sigh before plucking it from your grip and downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"Happy?"

"Very," you said with a grin, and watched him as he walked towards the front door, stopping briefly to chat with Maria before heading back to work.

Joel shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he walked back to the station, nodding to a few people along the way. He couldn't stop his gaze from traveling up to the window above the pizza place every time he walked by, smiling to himself when he noticed a new plant in your window.

The bullpen sounded quiet as Joel made his way back to his office. He liked quiet days. That was always a good day, in his book. He sat down in his chair with a huff, the little orange light on his desk phone blinking angrily at him, indicating a voicemail. He picked up the phone and punched in his passcode. He was reaching for a pen when the voice on the other end of the phone made him freeze.

"Joel, it's Maddy. Give me a call back when you get this, it's urgent."

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[ashwhowrites]

Can you write an Older Neighbor! Perv! Eddie Munson x reader, where she's new in the town and she just moved in right next to Eddie's house, and he sees her the first time and he's like I want her to be my girl, or smth like that, and he's all flirty and all that with her, and they do end up sleeping together, (but he's a perv!) And after some time, they start dating? (Maybe fluff/smut, please? 🥺)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

⚠️pretty smutty, Eddie is very dominant and pushy. Trigger warning - Eddie forced the reader to have sex without a condom ( she likes it ) Eddie is a perv!- keep in mind with his dialogue

Oh neighbor

Eddie had been eyeing the empty house next door. He watched as months and months went by and the house still was up for sale. He didn't care too much for his old neighbor, and he hoped the next one wouldn't be as annoying.

Eddie went for a run every morning. He was older and understood his diet of cigarettes and beer wasn't going to help in the long run. His white tank top clung to his sweaty body as he ran up the hill. His music blasted in his ears as he made it over the hill, his house in view. But also, a moving truck in the next-door driveway. Eddie planned to just go inside. Greeting a new neighbor wasn't something he cared to do. Until he saw the neighbor.

A younger girl, grunted as she carried heavy boxes into her new home. Eddie didn't realize he was standing on the sidewalk, his eyes zoned in on her. And on the way she bent over, giving him a glimpse of her breasts. Eddie couldn't help but feel a twitch in his cock, his hand immediately going down and adjusting.

He smiled when she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

"Hi!" She said excitedly. Her voice was sweet and higher.

"Hi." He said, a smile on his face as she walked closer to him. Her breasts bounced as she moved and Eddie loved it.

"I just moved in, I'm Y/N!" Eddie barely heard her. His focus is on her breasts. His eyes traveled along with the drops of sweat that went down the center of her chest.

"Eddie." He muttered out. "Boyfriend coming to help, or do you need a hand?" He asked.

He felt a sense of pride when she checked him out, her eyes focused on his arms. Eddie may have flexed when he noticed, then enjoyed the way she shyly looked away.

"No boyfriend. Help would be lovely." She said. And Eddie agreed, but her bouncing on his cock would be lovely too.

Eddie kept his word and helped her move everything inside. He stayed to help her put up shelves and other things she needed a hand with. Eddie needed her hand for some help.

Even though it was sweaty and tiring work, he enjoyed sneaking glances at her ass when she'd bend over. Or when she reached up high and her thong poked out from her shorts. And he enjoyed it when she hugged him goodbye and her breasts pushed against his chest.

~~~

After that, they became close friends. Y/N enjoyed spending time with him and drinking some beers as they watched sports. She didn't question Eddie's interest in her or question why he seemed to only spend time with her. She figured he was a friendly neighbor.

But with Eddie, he didn't do anything unless it benefited him. Sure, he liked spending time with her. But more importantly, he wanted to mark her off from the rest of the neighborhood. If a neighbor showed up, he was there behind her with a smirk on his face. The neighborhood was filled with old single men. The only type of people taking up a one-bedroom home, except for the young girls just starting their life. Unaware of the preying eyes that lurk.

"Thanks, gorgeous," Eddie said, taking the cold beer from Y/N's hand. Y/N blushed and looked away. Eddie always had that effect on her. He made her nervous and giddy.

She didn't say anything as she sat next to him, she turned on the TV as the game started. Eddie's arm wrapped around the couch, resting behind her head as she moved slightly into his body. Even though he did it every single time, her heart would skip a beat. Then he'd do this thing where he'd reach down and squeeze her shoulder, then return it to the couch. And Y/N couldn't help but love it.

She wasn't a fan of the male gaze and she always tried to hide from it. But the way Eddie looked at her made her feel unstoppable. He looked at her with so much hunger that it made her shiver. No matter what she wore, his eyes were glued to her. Something about his older eyes and rough hands made her crave him.

~~~

It was the Stanley Cup Final so they decided to go out to the bar to watch it. Y/N stressed for hours about what to wear. It wasn't a date and she knew that. But she'd be damned if his eyes looked at anyone that wasn't her.

She grabbed tight jeans and a jersey. Confidence in her bones as she did her makeup and hair. When she felt loved by the reflection in the mirror, she began her walk to his house. She felt her insides warm when he smiled at her. His smile always gave her butterflies.

"Baby looks sexy." He complimented, a wet kiss on her cheek as he passed her to go out the door. He reached behind him, locking the door. She smiled as she felt the roughness of his beard still on her skin and the wetness of his lips. She blushed at his compliment, happily taking his hand as they walked to the small bar down the road.

It was a small town, and that meant sleazy guys at bars who didn't understand no. Y/N moved closer to Eddie when she felt that male gaze that made her sick. Eddie's arm wrapped around her.

"Fuck off, she's taken." He growled as a guy whistled as they walked into the bar. Y/N smiled at the idea of being taken by him. She wanted him to mean it, but he probably said it to help the men leave her alone. Eddie slipped his hand into her back jeans, and Y/N swore she felt his squeeze a tiny bit. But when she looked at him, his eyes were on the screen.

They sat at the bar for hours, laughing and cheering for their team. A platter of onion rings and cheese curds was in front of them next to their cold beers.

"Gonna run to the bathroom before the last period starts," Eddie said, a kiss planted on her forehead and a ruffle to her hair as he walked past her. Y/N groaned as she fixed her hair. Eddie enjoyed that she was young because he felt like he could treat her young. Y/N found Eddie's age a turn-on, but his teasing was so elementary school. Like when the guy bullies the girl he likes. And she loved it. She wouldn't mind if he yanked her hair and ran away.

Y/N peeled the coating off the onion ring as she watched the commercials. A body next to her caught her attention. A random man sitting there.

"I'm sorry! My friend is sitting there." She said politely.

"Why don't I keep it warm until she's back? Pretty young girl like you shouldn't be left alone." The man said, his finger running down her face. She shivered in fear and moved her face out of his reach. When Eddie called her a young girl, she liked it. But hearing it from a loser at the bar made her feel sick. "Been years since I've had young pussy."

"Okay, not happening. My boyfriend is in the bathroom and he wouldn't like the way you're talking to me, and neither do I. So leave." She said as strongly as she could. Praying the man didn't hear the shakiness in her voice and how her leg bounced.

"But I thought you were with a friend?" The man said, smirking as he caught her lie. "So is it a friend or boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Eddie said from behind her. Y/N felt all the air return to her lungs when his voice reached her ears. She looked behind him, a terrified look in her eyes. Eddie felt a twig in his heart at how scared she looked. But also felt a twitch in his cock by the way she looked at him for saving. Her scared puppy eyes.

"So beat it or get your ass kicked. Up to you." Eddie shrugged, his jaw tensed and clenched.

The man held up his arms and went to walk away. "Actually, on a second thought," Eddie said. Y/N was confused until Eddie punched the guy straight across the face.

"That's for thinking about her."

Eddie's hand grabbed hers as he walked them out of the bar.

"We don't have to leave! I'm sure he won't bug us now." Y/N said, she knew it wasn't her fault but she couldn't help but feel guilty about cutting Eddie's night short.

"You being comfortable is more important, we can go to my place and finish the game. Just you and I." He said, his hand slipped into her back pocket again.

Once they made it back to his house, she headed for the couch, but Eddie's hand laced with hers and he walked her to the bedroom. She wasn't sure why. He didn't say a word, just letting her hand go as he began to take off his jersey. She tried to move her eyes away from his toned chest. His chest hair and tattoos. Then his happy trail that traveled down to his jeans.

"Got something there." Eddie teased, his thumb wiped away the imaginary drool at the corner of her mouth. She felt her whole body flame in embarrassment.

"Oh, hush." She said, pretending he didn't get her flustered....again. He didn't stop there, his hands on his belt as he removed his jeans. Y/N gulped as his boxers came into view. More tattoos scattered on his thighs and she tried not to whimper. He was always toned, and his arms were always strong and attractive. But she never thought she could find legs attractive. But the black ink and tight muscles did wonders for his body.

"The game?" She squeaked out, her eyes scanning the room. That's when she realized there wasn't a TV. She didn't have time to be confused, in seconds her back was against the bed and his heavy body was on top of her.

"Mhhm, this is my game." He said, his hand skimming down her body to take off her Jersey. She couldn't help but feel so turned on by the way he took control. She shivered as her skin hit the air. He took in the sight of her bra, before moving down to yank down her jeans. She didn't protest, she wanted this in so many ways.

"Ever since you moved in, I've been dying to know what your beautiful cunt would smell like." His words made her shiver. Anything he said somehow was the most attractive thing she's heard.

She moaned when he bit at the small skin above her panties, then his head moved down. His lips kissed her cunt over her panties. She could feel a wet spot growing. And she whimpered when his tongue flicked the wet spot. She wanted to hide her face in embarrassment.

"Wet and gorgeous." He said into her panties. His lips still left small kisses as his nose inhaled her scent. His nose rubbed her clit and she felt her body twitching.

"Smell so innocent and pure." He growled. His hands yanked her panties to the side as he attacked her cunt. His tongue licked between her folds as his nose kept rubbing her clit. She never had someone attack her cunt with so much need. He ate her like he was starving.

His growling and desperation had her dripping. Of course, his tongue lapped all of it up. Her hands were in his hair as he continued his attack on her cunt. She felt powerless in the best kind of way. Like he was on the hunt for her and she was compelled to lay there and take it all.

"I've thought about this pussy since day one." He said in between breaths, then his lips back on her cunt.

"What about it?" She gasped out. She wasn't sure she ever experienced a man being so captivated by her body. Maybe it was an older guy thing.

She whined when his warm tongue left her, but his fingers replaced his nose as he rubbed her clit.

"How you tasted, how wet you can get. How delicious you smell from miles away." He growled, his words doing things to both of them. His cock was aching in his boxers, but his fingers didn't leave her clit.

"How innocent your cunt would be as I completely drilled myself into you. No mercy on how tight your cunt is. Because now it's mine and I'll do whatever I want with it." He said, his fingers gone from her clit, his hand slamming down to smack her aching cunt. She whimpered loudly, tears spilling down her face as she felt herself pulsing and clenching.

"Fuck, Eddie." She moaned.

"Mr. Munson to you." He said, another slap to her cunt.

She whined as he took out his cock. He was so red, long, and thick. The veins travel to his leaking tip.

"Condom?" She gasped out as his tip teased her clit.

"Nope. I'm gonna fill you to the brim with my cum. You're mine now and not going anywhere." He growled, his hands on the side of her head as he pushed himself into her. He shivered as her cunt clenched around his cock. She cried as he forced his cock fully inside of her. She felt the way he dreamed she would. He enjoyed how tight she was and forced her body to take him.

She was so warm and he wanted to keep his cock in her forever.

"Oh my god." She moaned, his thrusts were fast and hard. The sound of his balls smacking against her skin made her cunt clench. She knew Eddie was a dominant guy, but the way he fucked her for his needs made her want him even more. She loved the idea of being owned by him. The condom was the last night on her mind as she felt every vein in his cock rubbing against her.

"See, so much better raw. I can feel every fucking inch of you. Pretty cunt just gripping me, wanting to keep me inside. Greedy little girl." He teased, a smirk on his lips as he kept his eyes on her.

Her brain barely focused on the words he said, too fucked out. But somehow being called a little girl by him felt like she was being scolded and she was surprised how much she loved it.

"Make me cum, Munson." She begged, her fingers scraping down his back. An animal-like growl left his throat as he felt his skin being carved into it. His fingers worked perfectly on her clit, she came with a loud whimper. Her back pushed off the bed as her chest smacked into his. His arm wrapped around her, holding her against him as he fucked into her. He moaned as he felt his pubic hair soaked in her.

"Look at that mess you made." He mocked, yanking her hair and forcing her to see his drenched hair and how wet his cock looked slipping inside of her.

"Squirted all over me." He smirked, his lips crashing down on hers as he emptied himself inside of her.

~~~

A week passed after the best night of her life. And in the best way possible, Eddie was more obsessed with her. She was claimed as his and he made sure to show everyone.

At the grocery store? The second she bent over, his hand gripped her ass. No care about the older couple that gasped and ran.

Getting gas? He had her pressed against the car with his tongue in her mouth.

She lost all control around him. She found herself doing things she never thought she'd do. He had her bent over her car in daylight in the middle of the driveway.

Had her quietly screaming as his fingers pounded inside of her at the movie theater.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear, his arm wrapped around her as they rested in his bed.

"I love you." She said, resting her eyes. Half way asleep until she felt his cock entering her again for the fourth time that night.

Tags!

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