Vito

"You can't stay our here all night, Jax..." your head rested on her shoulder, arms wrapped around your knees as you curled into yourself for warmth. It had gotten much colder in the last 24 hours, scarily so.

"Watch me..." you couldn't help the small, tired smile that spread across your lips as you huffed a soft laugh. You stood up and faced her. Jackie looked up, confused by your abrupt movement and her newfound lack of warmth.

"I'm gonna go find us some more firewood. Don't wanna freeze out here." It was lighthearted enough, said with a small smile. Neither of you knew how much weight those words would hold. Neither of you would be around for it to mean anything to anyone.

"Be careful..." was all Jackie said. In that moment, she wished she had said more- maybe even volunteered to go with you, since you were the only person who made her feel normal for being scared and not wanting to play survivor. She knew you were scared too... but she still let you go. And that was the last anyone ever heard from Jackie Taylor, as well as you.

Nat and Travis came back that night, right as it started snowing. Exhausted and defeated, neither noticed Jackie asleep (or maybe already dead) outside the cabin, nor did they notice your absence.

It actually wasn't until after everyone had begun to grieve the loss of their captain that Natalie had finally noticed you were nowhere to be found. She knew losing Jackie would hit you harder than some of the other girls, so she was willing to put her own frustration aside and comfort you, as well as selfishly seek you out for her own comfort.

To this day, she still remembers surveying the group, her gaze becoming more frantic as she failed to spot you. She remembers going up to Taissa, Lottie, fuck- even Mari- begging for someone to have an answer of where you were. No one had seen you since you'd left with her and Travis the evening before. No one even knew you came back and sat with Jackie in her last moments.

Then the second wave of panic washed over the yellowjackets. They searched the house, hoping you had made it back before Travis and Nat, and had just fallen asleep in the attic and missed all the commotion. Another search party was sent out, now looking for you and Javi, worsening the ache and guilt building in Natalie's chest.

Shauna grieved on her own, silently, while Natalie made her loss a mission. Every day, she and Travis were out there looking for Javi, looking for you. Lottie started blessing them before they'd leave- it helped Travis, it only made everything feel worse for Natalie. They were getting frustrated with each other over the lack of any signs of life from either of you. She was convinced you were still out there somewhere, hopefully with Javi... hopefully safe.

Distraught by Travis's mental decline, Natalie faked Javi's death- planted his torn flannel along their search path, and waited. Travis grieved how he needed to, which she of course understood, but Natalie continued to look for you.

She swore she kept catching traces of you. The color of your hair caught out of the corner of her eye. The smell of your perfume you still wore even out here as she turned the corner, the perfume she knew you'd somehow managed to hide away from the rest of the girls. It only really started concerning her when she'd be alone in the wilderness, and she swore she heard your sighs or whimpers. It would send her into a panic, her searching becoming more frantic in fear that you were on your last breath somewhere nearby.

Then there was the bet. Everyone had been getting on Nat's ass about the lack of food, and how she's been spending more time looking for you than trying to hunt. Mari had been hyping Lottie up as a better provider than Nat, which led to them racing to see who was actually able to provide more for the group.

Natalie trudged through the snowy wilderness, desperate for anything at this point. She caught the usual glimpse of you out of the corner of her eye- the stark contrast of what she last saw you wearing bright against the snow. Against her better judgment, she whipped her head in, what she hoped would be, your direction.

And to her surprise, there you stood. You looked over your shoulder at her, face relaxed as if this were any other passing moment. Natalie's jaw dropped, puffs of air coming out in clouds in front of her face as her breathing picked up with her heart rate.

"Y/n..." she called out, feet moving her toward you before she could even think. She stumbled over herself to get to you. You hadn't moved, but you seemed to be getting further away. Natalie stumbled, of course, losing her footing for a moment. She caught herself, but when she regained her balance and glanced back up at where you'd been waiting for her, you were gone.

"No..." Natalie collapsed to the ground. "No, please... Y/n, don't do this..." she wept, crying out to you, praying to god, or maybe even the wilderness, that you got the message.

She was able to pick herself up after a few minutes of sobbing- she had no choice but to carry on. Maybe this was a sign, I mean, this is a new development in her delirium. Nat had smelled you, heard you, and just then she had seen you... it could mean something.

Nat continued her hunt, heading back to the abandoned plane and setting up camp there for a moment to recalibrate. She began to close her eyes as she leaned against the cold metal of the plane's fuselage. Right as she began drifting of, a gentle brush against her cheek startled her awake. Movement outside the plane caught her eye- a large, white moose. She scrambled to prep her gun, alerting the animal in the meantime, which caused it to charge at her.

Natalie was fading in and out of consciousness as she was practically dragged through the doorway and into the bathroom. She didn't even realize where she was until she felt the warm water against her bare skin. Taissa was stationed next to her as Natalie let sleep take over her body.

Your giggle is the only thing she comprehends. When Natalie opens her eyes and makes sense of her surroundings, she notices the constant pitter-patter of hot water against her skin from the shower head. She notices the bright, warm light of the bathroom. She notices the familiar feeling of tile against her bare feet. She notices your healthy face and wet hair as she tilts her face down to look in your eyes.

You're smiling softly up at her, mischief swirling in your doe eyes as you stare. You tug at the back of her hair, yanking her head back slightly, pulling a confused moan out of Natalie. You giggle again as you resume running your hands through her hair.

"Keep your head tilted back, or you're gonna get shampoo in your eyes." Which is, of course, when she notices the smell of your shampoo- it's something fruity, but different from your strawberry body wash, she's never been able to put her finger on it.

Natalie lets you finish rinsing her hair. This doesn't happen very often. This is maybe only the fifth time she's ever even been to your house. You don't hang out much, because Natalie always feels like you're pitying her- her own self-destructive tendencies barring her from getting as close to you as you so desperately want her to be. But you had just won the game for the quarterfinals that night, and the next is the semi-finals, which will determine if you make it to nationals... so Natalie allowed herself to enjoy the pampering, under the guise that she was rewarding you for playing well.

Her eyes are closed as she enjoys your nails grazing softly against her scalp, fingers traveling to massage her temples. You press an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone, and Nat's eyes snap open, surprisingly unaffected by the soap and hot water pouring directly into them. her breath catches in her throat, but she says nothing.

You continue mouthing at her neck and chest, sucking red and purple marks into her pale skin. This has never happened any time Nat has come over. You'd beg for her to let you pamper her, she'd deny. You'd beg her to stay the night, she'd deny, you'd plead some more, and she'd give in. You tried really hard not to push your luck, but your need for physical touch would practically radiate off of you, and Natalie, also desperate to be touched but reluctant to admit such, would huff and let you cling to her as you fell asleep. She'd be gone before you woke up, avoiding any sort of feelings you might've actually had throughout the night.

Your hands travel from her hair down her neck, stopping briefly at her chest to caress and squeeze her breasts, thumbs gently brushing over her nipples, then continuing downward to slide past her hips and rest on her lower back.

"Hmm, what're you doin', Y/n?" Natalie hums, her own hands coming to rest around your shoulders as you hug her comfortably around her waist.

"miss you... wanna be close to you, Nat." you mumble against the wet skin of her neck, face tilting slightly to nip at the space right below her jaw. She notices how you shift your legs, slightly parting them and leaning your hip more into her. Natalie moves on autopilot as she props her leg, slotting it between yours. You sigh immediately, melting into her. Your movements are small and slow at first as you begin to grind against her. Nat can feel your chest moving against hers as your breathing picks up.

She slides her fingers into your wet hair and cradles your head as she leans against you, closing her eyes blissfully. She flexes her thigh, causing your breathing to hitch. Nat uses her other arm to wrap around your shoulders and use her grip to pull you down against her. You moan into her skin and continue to grind your bare core against her wet thigh.

The hot water of the shower constricts her lungs as she breathes you in, the wetness almost frustrating her as it makes it harder for her to pinpoint your own essence dripping down her thigh.

You whimper against Natalie's jaw, pecking the skin, then tilting your head back to look at her. You stare for a few seconds, eyes glassy, lips parted, as you huff out short breaths.

"What do you want, pretty girl?" Natalie whispers gently, still cradling your head. She watches you melt ever so slightly further into her hold, and feels a horrible ache in her chest.

"Want you to kiss me," you plead in return, a heartbreaking shimmer of desperation in your eyes. How could anyone ever say no? Natalie was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them (sometimes).

She pulls you closer, leaning in to meet you, your lips meeting under the steady flow of water overhead. She sucks on your bottom lip, biting hard enough to elicit a whine out of you, but not to draw blood, even though she'd love to taste you right now.

You use your hold around her waist as leverage to pull yourself even closer, and to grind harder, drawing closer to your climax. Nat releases her grip on your hair and allows her hand to slide between the two of you to pull at your nipple. You let out a small squeal at the harsh action, it quickly turning into a moan as Nat continues to tug and twist at the small bud.

Your hips move quickly, losing rhythm as you try to get off. Your body is tense against Natalie's as she sucks on your tongue and plays with your tits. She begins shifting her hips slightly, thrusting gently in time with your motion. This sends you over the edge, and you tense, moaning into Natalie's mouth, slouching against her as your hips rock subconsciously, riding out your high.

You're panting into her neck as she cradles your head again. Your arms stay around her waist, fingers softly brushing her lower back and hips. It's nice. Gentle. Warm.

Natalie woke up to more commotion and snapped out of her haze rather quickly once she realized Taissa wasn't next to her anymore. She got dressed and stepped into the living room to see everyone fussing over Lottie, who seemed about three seconds away from dying of hypothermia.

Nat's head was foggy as she sat and talked with Lottie. They tiredly joked and enjoyed the small moment of calmness between them, even though both had just suffered a loss in the hypothetical game. A silence settled over them, and Natalie began thinking back to the dream she had of you earlier (at least that's what she thought it was, even if it felt more like a misplaced memory).

"Do you feel her out there?" it was a stupid, desperate, last-chance-of-faith question to ask... but Natalie put her pride aside anyway to ask. Lottie squeezed her hand, the blonde avoiding eye contact.

"I do," and while it shouldn't have meant anything by the standards she had been holding, those two words meant everything to Natalie.

That dream was the last Natalie saw of you for a while. You left her alone- for better or for worse, she hadn't been able to decide. It should've brought her comfort to be able to go hunting and not be reminded of your absence- but in the lack of your perfume floating through the breeze, or the glimpses of you out of her peripheral vision, she became more aware. You were gone.

Maybe that dream was your farewell, a sweet goodbye for Natalie to think back to when she got too tired to carry on, or too stressed to sleep. It made her heart ache with a yearning she'd never experienced in her whole life.

But her subconscious prayers to see you again in any capacity were answered. She wished you would just have left her alone this time.

She still remembers mentally begging for you to burst through the door and stop the hunt, as Shauna clasped the gold heart necklace around her. You never came. Not even in her head did you provide any reassurance. Not even as she sprinted through the snow and across the frozen lake.

You didn't appear out of nowhere with Javi either, nor did he seem to have any idea you were even missing, which had only sent her deeper into her despair.

You didn't appear to comfort or taunt her with your presence (or lack thereof) as she allowed Javi to drown. Or as they carried him back to the cabin.

Natalie was exhausted, she was starving, she was cold, she was distressed... it was only then, as she sat by herself at the window in the attic, beginning to doze off, that she felt you.

"It's not your fault..." you whisper against her shoulder. She doesn't remember when you leaned your head on her, but she thinks you've always been there. She continued to stare out the window, gnawing guiltily at her lip.

"It absolutely is my fault... I let him drown."

"They were going to kill you, Natalie." your voice is firm, defensive. She shifts to look over her shoulder at you. Your face is hauntingly stern, an expression she'd never seen you make. It quite frankly sent chills down her spine. You meet her eyes, and your face softens, anxiety taking over.

"They were going to take you away..." You tilt your head and gaze up at her pitifully, rendering Natalie speechless. "Do you not want to see me anymore?" You lift your hand to gently caress her cheek. She shakes her head slightly as she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she relaxes.

"No, never... I was actually starting to miss you haunting me," Natalie tries to joke, a tired smile etching across her face, but yours falters almost immediately. For a moment, Natalie worries it's because of what she said, but then she notices the way your eyes keep drifting toward the window, toward the dark stretch of wilderness beyond the glass.

"What?" she breathes out, anxiety beginning to crawl up her spine. You don't answer right away; instead, you trace your fingers along the sleeve of her jacket, as if memorizing it... memorizing her.

"No." The realization settles heavily in Natalie's chest as your gaze finally returns to hers.

"No," she repeats, firmer this time, feeling herself start to slip as a sad smile pulls at your lips.

"You can't keep waiting for me forever." The words hit harder than any scream, any fight, any loss she's suffered out here. She shakes her head immediately, clenching her teeth.

"Watch me." It sounds pathetic and desperate, making her seem childish. You laugh softly anyway- a sound that she misses so severely it makes her sick- leaning in to brush the tip of your nose against hers/

"You always were stubborn..." and for a moment, it almost feels normal. Like you're both back at school. Like tomorrow there'll be practice and classes and stupid parties neither of you really wanted to attend. Then your expression crumbles- Natalie reaches for you on instinct, her fingers brushing yours- warm. Tangible. Real?

"I looked for you," she whispers.

"I know."

"Every day." Your eyes glisten as you let the cold, aching silence suck the air out of the room for a few more seconds.

"I know, Nat." Her throat tightens painfully.

"I should've found you." The silence that follows is gentle, but unforgiving. Eventually, you rest your forehead against hers, warmer than it should be. She closes her eyes, and the attic disappears. The cold disappears. For one brief moment, there is only you.

"You found me now." Natalie squeezes her eyes shut. She feels you shift slightly, tilting her face with your gentle hand, guiding her lips to yours. Your hand is warm, but your lips are cold, and all she can think about is bringing heat back to them.

Natalie reaches one hand up to cup your cheek, allowing the other to caress your waist, soft but desperate. You sit up on your knees, leaning further into the kiss as your lips move in sync, picking up the pace. She shifts, leaning her back against the wall, allowing you to perch comfortably on her lap. Her hands grip at the fat of your hips, pulling you flush to her, encouraging you to initiate some sort of friction. She bites your bottom lip and tugs, causing a moan to slip from the back of your throat.

You rock your hips against hers for a few moments before Nat impatiently slips her hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, not even noticing your lack of panties. She glides her middle and ring finger through your center and moans into your mouth at the wetness she's met with.

"Jesus Christ, baby..." she mumbles against your lips, continuing to swipe between your folds, her fingers delving slightly deeper into your core with each pass.

You suck on her tongue, arms wrapped around her shoulders, when she finally pushes her finger inside you, pulling a high-pitched whimper from you. Your hips grind gently in time with her strokes, the curl of her digits hitting perfectly against the spongy spot deep within you.

Natalie regains a bit more control when she begins to fight back, her own tongue intertwining with yours. Her hips start to grind up against yours, following the rhythm of her fingers inside your pussy, as the heel of her palm puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. She feels your essence dripping down her digits, gathering around her knuckles. Fuuuuuuuck.... All she's thinking about is making you squirt on her fingers, dizzied by the possibility.

Natalie throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. She feels your cold hands slide up her chest, nipples hardening through her worn flannel and skin pebbling as a chill runs through her. Your fingers settle gently at the base of her throat, palms resting near her collarbones.

When she opens her eyes and looks up at you, it's different. You look as she'd actually expect you to at this point. Sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, dull skin. You've taken on a form that will actually haunt Natalie for the rest of her life.

"You stopped looking for me." you whisper, vengefully, hands sliding up slightly, finger pressing into the sides of Natalie's throat. Her eyes widen pitifully. She's not scared, but betrayed that you could ever think she had it in her to give up on you. She tries to shake her head, but is held in place by your grip.

"No-" she croaks, desperate to defend herself. To remind you how devoted she is to you. She wraps her fingers delicately around your wrists. This wasn't you, and Natalie knew that, but she'd take what she could get at this point.

"I didn't." Her voice breaks as your grip tightens. "I didn't stop."

"You did." your vice around her throat loosens just barely for her to get an excuse out. Natalie knows she's in a state of severe delirium, but she also thinks it wouldn't be too bad to die at your hands at this point...

"I had- to hunt." The excuse leaves her mouth too quickly, and she hates herself for how pathetic it sounds, even though it's mostly meek because of the lack of airflow she's experiencing. "They needed food. I couldn't- I couldn't keep going out there every day and coming back with nothing."

Your expression doesn't change. Natalie feels tears beginning to sting her eyes. "I still looked..."

"Not for me." she choked and gasped for the little bits of oxygen you allowed her to access, still trying to converse with you, even though she knew this was just another nightmare.

"I looked everywhere."

"Not everywhere." The words make something inside her go cold and sickly still. She stares at you. Outside the window, the wilderness seems impossibly dark. The trees stretch farther than they should, disappearing into a blackness that doesn't resemble night so much as an absence of anything at all.

Natalie's grip tightens around your wrists. "Where are you?"

Your head tilts- it's such a familiar movement that her heart aches. "You know."

"No, I don't," she allows herself to cry out, whimpering under your hold.

"You do-"

"If I knew, I would've found you!" For the first time, anger cracks through the desperation in her voice. Her face twists as tears finally spill over, hot against cheeks that have been cold for months.

"I would've found you." Natalie weeps, succumbing to your grip, accepting her fate with open arms. Something about you softens, just enough for it to cause a noticeable shift in the air. Your hands leave her, and Natalie immediately reaches after them, catching one before you can pull completely away.

"Don't." You glance down at where she's holding you. You're still on top of her, thighs resting on either side of her hips. She's resting on her elbows now that your full weight isn't being used to pin her to the floor. SHe glances up, desperately "Don't leave again."

"I didn't leave you..." Natalie's breath catches. The words settle strangely between you as she waits, feeling as if there's more to come in the explanation.

"I got lost." Suddenly, she can smell your perfume again. That stupid fucking perfume. The one you had somehow kept hidden from everyone else. The one Natalie used to tease you for bothering to wear when all of you smelled like sweat and dirt anyway.

Except now there's something else beneath it. Pine. Snow. Smoke. Natalie looks toward the window. Something moves between the trees. Her head snaps back toward you.

"Are you out there?" You don't answer. She calls out your name, pleading, but you pull your hand from hers.

Natalie scrambled after you immediately, but somehow you were already standing across the attic. She didn't remember watching you move.

"Wait-" You took another step backward. "Stop!"

Another.

"Y/n, please stop-" she begged. You smiled again, not the horrible expression she'd seen seemingly moments ago. You didn't seem angry or vengeful anymore, just tired. So unbelievably tired....

"Please," she whispered, voice breaking. Your eyes flicked toward the window, and hers followed. For half a second, Nat swore she saw something standing beyond the glass. A figure... then another. Trees. Snow. Something bright against all that white in the darkness.

Her stomach dropped, and she immediately turned back to you. Except you were gone.

"No." Natalie lunged forward, and the attic seemed to tilt beneath her feet. "Y/n?"

Nothing. She reached the window and pressed both hands against the glass, searching desperately through the storm outside.

There... between the trees... you. Natalie pounded against the window, screaming your name. You didn't turn around, even as she continued to bang on the glass and yell at the top of her lungs. Nothing.

You were walking away.

"No, no, no-" She fumbled desperately with the window latch. It remained unmoving, seemingly frozen shut. Her fingers slipped against it, numb and useless, and every second she wasted sent you farther into the trees.

"Wait!" she cried out desperately. You finally stopped. Natalie froze, holding her breath as she watched. Slowly, you looked over your shoulder, and for one fleeting second, you were yourself again.

Healthy. Warm. Alive. Exactly as Natalie remembers you.

Your lips moved, but she couldn't hear you through the glass. "What?"

You said it again, just as casually, which only caused Natalie's anxiety to spike as she pressed her ear against the freezing window, delusionally praying it would help her.

"What are you saying?" she whimpered, tears of anguish burning hot against her waterline. She turned her gaze back to you, forehead pressed against the cool glass. You spoke again, but this time she understood.

Find me.

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut with a final cry of despair. When she opened them, it felt like she'd woken with a violent jolt. Her breath tears painfully into her lungs as she jerks upright, disoriented, one hand flying instinctively toward the base of her throat.

She sat completely still, heart refusing to slow its rapid beating, alone in the cold attic, where she had been the whole time. The window rattled softly in its frame as Natalie stared at it from afar for several seconds. Then, against her better judgment, Natalie crawled closer. Outside, snow continued to fall over the wilderness, steadily erasing every trace of what might've been there before.

She stared into it anyway. Find me. She wasn't sure whether she'd dreamed those words. She's even less sure she cares. Because they'll find you... they had to.

Natalie settled back against the wall, pulling her knees toward her chest as she stared through the window. She could already picture it happening. Not finding you- not yet. She wouldn't let herself imagine exactly where you were, or what condition you'd be in when she finally got to you.

She pictured what would come after...

Someone will find them first. A plane. A helicopter. A search party stumbling through the trees. Something. People will come pouring into the cabin with blankets and food and questions, and Natalie won't answer a single fucking one until somebody listens to her.

There's someone else.

She'll tell them your name. Your height. What you were wearing. Where she'd last seen you. She'll point toward every place she and Travis searched and then every place they didn't. She'll tell them about the glimpses between the trees and the perfume and your voice and find me, even if they look at her like she's lost her mind.

She'll make them believe her. And if they don't, she'll make them search anyway.

They won't put her on some helicopter and fly her away while you're still out here. They can drag her onto it kicking and screaming if they want; she'll jump right back out. She'll tell reporters. Police. Your parents. Her mom. Anybody who will listen. She's still out there. And eventually someone will find you.

Maybe Natalie will be there when they do... She likes that version best. She imagines spotting you first. Of course she does. After months of catching pieces of you where you weren't, eventually she'll look between the trees, and you'll actually be standing there.

You'll probably cry- you've always been sensitive and emotional and hate being alone, so she can only imagine the breakdown you'll have. She'll definitely cry. She'll hold onto you so tightly that somebody will eventually have to tell her to loosen her grip, and even then she won't really listen. Then they'll take you both home.

Home.

Natalie lets her head fall against the wall. She hasn't allowed herself to think about home like this in months. It used to feel impossible, now it unfolds behind her closed eyes with such clarity that she can practically touch it.

She'll do everything differently, that's the promise she makes. No more acting like she doesn't care because caring about somebody gives them the opportunity to hurt her. No more brushing you off when you're being too nice because she can't figure out what you could possibly want from her. No more pretending your invitations annoy her when she's secretly memorized every single one.

She'll let you know.... every stupid thing she's swallowed down because saying it would've made it real- she'll tell you. She'll tell you she missed you. She'll tell you she looked for you. She'll tell you that every time she thought she saw you between the trees, some pathetic part of her heart genuinely believed that if she ran fast enough, she'd catch up. She'll tell you she never stopped.

And she'll love you honestly this time. Not carefully. Not from three feet away. Not disguised beneath sarcasm or an eye roll whenever you get too close to figuring her out.

Honestly.

She'll let herself have you.

It'll all be so perfect. You'll be warm and tangible against her chest, the smell of your shampoo suffocating her in a way that will make sense. Your bed will be comfy and soft, and you'll take so many more naps cuddled up in the soft glow of your room. Or you'll get an apartment like you always used to say, where you'll both stay, and Nat will go to work while you go to school. Your sweaters will be clean, and she'll get to see you in those stupid tiny skirts that always ended up getting pushed up and out of the way...

She'll get to pull your panties off and pocket them for later, or be impatient and just tug them to the side as she eats you out, tugging you by the hips, arms locked around your thighs to keep you pressed against her tongue. Or when she loses her own panties and decides to slot her hips against yours, slick combining between you as your clits bump together.

Or when she tightens the straps of her harness around her thighs, silicone cock phantomly pulsing at her hips as she stares into your glistening cunt. She'll finally get to slip inside you and feel the warmth of your core. At this point, Nat is convinced that her sheer desperation and need for you would be enough to get you pregnant.

In her mind, she's already gripping your hips to the point of bruising, pounding her cock so deep into your core that she's practically imbedding the memory of herself there. Already visualizing her cum dripping out of you as you lay face down, ass arched high enough that it should keep her release inside, but there it is, glistening out of your weeping hole and against your pulsing clit. She's thinking about flipping you over and diving right back in, plugging you up as she lets her desperation flood her movements. This round less animalistic and more devoted; she's sucking the prettiest marks into your neck, collarbones, chest- anywhere she can reach- as you're holding onto her so tightly she doesn't even have to worry about the two of you ever being separated again.

It will be perfect...

“do ya reckon there’s redemption fowah men who have lived a bad life, sweetheart?” his voice was pitched low, dragging as a guttural rasp until he cleared his throat to sound less like a broken man. his dense eyebrows creased in a heavy, brooding manner you had never been permitted to emulate, deepening the permanent lines etched into his weary forehead.

“we have all lived bad lives” you hummed, tone a melodious chime that rivaled any songbird. methodically, you bound his sun bronzed skin back together, stitching neatly until the wound was closed and edges neat, dainty fingertips grazing over sinewy muscle as you wrapped the linen bandages around the bicep, watching the ropey tension loosen it's hold.

good girls never allowed an outlaw to spread them wide and wanting across a timeworn bench. their modest navy blue skirts, tailored strictly to conceal, were never meant to be hiked up and bunched messily against their arching hips. nor were their split drawers ever meant to dangle uselessly from a single ankle, yet there they hung, surrendered simply because he demanded to see every hidden inch of your touch tender flesh.

with wooden cross clung flat against your warm sternum, pinned there by a sticky sweat that spread a glowing sheen, right between the bouncing swell of your breasts. they had sprung free from their confinement the moment he ruthlessly ripped your blouse open, sending the ivory buttons scattering across the floor. beneath your feet, the lost fasteners rolled through the shadows, catching the vibrant, jewel toned colors that the towering stained glass windows cast down onto the scuffed floorboards.

he watches with charcoal pupils blown wide at the way his blushing red cock stretches your virgin cunt open, parting for him without much resistance, glossy from slick and sloppy wet, snug walls so warm around his girthy length. his pudgy midriff rippled and went taut, loose trousers hung low, and his wrinkled striped shirt shifting just enough to lend a peek at the trail of dark, brownish hair clearing a path down past his navel.

he's panting, jaw muscle leaping once before chapped lips part to grit out a filthy moan, scarred hips angling to pummel into your soppy hole, slick webbing in strings that stretch when he slips in and out. nicked thumb and forefinger closing around your peaky nipple and squeezing until you yowl, but cling with sharp fingernails to his bulk bunched arm.

still, he's looking at you like committing something sacrilegious, even as his gaze switches from your spread, glazed folds to face scrunched in pure pleasure, learning his name from jagged rasp mid ramming thrust. moaning a saccharine “arthur!” loud enough for god to cover from, feeling like a bird with it's wings unfurling, even when he's spurting seed deep and tacky into your satiating cunt.

accepting every droplet with clamped pulses, you look gratified, and still his face twists like he's fucked you by force. stained something he had no right to even lay a hand upon, rough, calloused fingers loosening their desperate grip around your squishy hip, shaking with a deep tremor wracking his large hands. the hot sweat that drenched his nape already turning cold against his skin, caught as dewdrops.

arthur left without a syllable, no parting kiss, no fragmented apology, though he chewed on the inside of his cheek as if carrying a torrent of unspoken thoughts. you dragged your discarded drawers back up your legs slowly, not minding the way his spent seed ran a milky trail down the cream soft skin of your thighs.

your blouse buttons still lay scattered across the floorboards, baring mellow breasts and aching nipples immodestly to the sacred room, but you still held yourself with a dignity he completely lacked as his clumsy, heavy fingers fought with his trousers and gun belt. too pretty eyes for a man like him narrowing into tight slits, a hard squint fixed at the wreckage he was leaving behind.

his turbulent irises flitted from the pearlescent puddle glistening on the wooden bench to the vulnerable state you were in, skin bare and legs wobbling like a trapped fawn's. he wanted to wrap his coat around you, the way a decent man would. he wanted to scoop those ivory buttons one by one into his weathered palm and return them to you, but he was no decent man.

so he left like a coward, like a beaten mongrel with its tail tucked, neither looking nor feeling as any ordinary outlaw would have, sated and proud of his conquest. standing at the threshold, he paused to look back over his brawny shoulder, holding the heavy timber doors parted. you did not weep, nor did you hurl the bitter accusations he had actively braced himself to hear, stumbling over your feet to chase him. you only watched as he stood in a pool of his own blood, before he crossed the threshold and left you behind utterly alone.

arthur did not return for months, and you refused to seek him out, even when a persistent nausea began to color your mornings. when you finally visited the doctor for a checkup, you already knew what was coming by the way the old man pursed his lips tightly and adjusted his crooked spectacles with visible nervousness. recognizing by your lack of joyful tears that the life now stirring within your womb had not been planned. still, you did not search for arthur.

early spring slowly bled into late autumn, the leaves shedding their green for a burning orange, framing the freshly painted white church, a sanctuary from which you had been banished by judging glares and hushed, venomous whispers. now, the baby girl balanced on your hip looked exactly like him. her seafoam eyes were fringed by wispy, tawny eyelashes, long enough to brush her rounded cheekbones just as his once had, quivering restlessly whenever they met your gaze with that same restless, searching look.

she babbled softly, reaching for your collar with a tiny, curled fist and scrunching her eyebrows as if telling you something of monumental importance, perhaps offering her own thoughts on the pie crust you were currently mixing in a bowl. the knock at the door came strong and impatient. it wasn't the first, but you had missed all the previous ones, your ears only now straining toward the rattling sound.

even your daughter stopped her quiet cooing. peeking through the window beside you, past the sheer curtains and delicate lace embroidery, you caught sight of a silhouette on your porch, broader and far more massive than the neighbor women who usually visited your cottage to offer empty, hollow condolences.

the knocking ceased as you crossed the floorboards, ancient timber too warped to hide the sound, footsteps drawing to the entrance. and just as your fingers cracked the latch and pulled, the sudden guest cornered right into your space, your daughter's eyes looked right back at you from his worn, rugged face.

the west had taken its brutal toll to arthur, a truth visible to the naked eye. his beard grew longer than it had been on that day, when the scars on his chin were still clear, now shaped into an unruly, coarse thicket with russet hairs curling at the very edges. lavender hued bruises formed exhausted circles beneath his eyes, yet those gaze remained as captivating as ever, vivid in their color, two distinct shades sharing a single, heavy look.

his hair was wild, growing past his ears and scattering messily across a wrinkled forehead, as if the wind had played with it or he had been running for his life. his brawny chest heaved beneath a disheveled plaid collar, the fabric crumpled and his fur coat sleeve slipping off one broad shoulder. a bruised crimson flushed his face, not from the sun’s cruel glare, but from the biting cold and sheer haste, to reach this town, to reach your porch.

you watched as his scarred fingers trembled with a barely noticeable tremor when he finally lifted his hand. his gaze, wild as a prey animal that knows it is soon to be slaughtered, switched frantically between you and your sugary sweet baby girl, unsure of where to land. his lips, far paler than the peachy tint you remembered, were bitten raw from nerves, the uneven flesh parting around words that refused to slip out before closing once more.

slowly, his fingers outstretched further, until his calloused fingertips gently grazed your daughter’s chubby cheek. she did not weep, nor did she try to hide within the cotton ruffles at your chest. it was as if she knew. arthur needed no further confirmation, his lips pursed and crooked nose crinkled, fighting to hold back an emotion he could not yet release “i—i’m. . aah tried. . i—” he managed to rasp, even as his voice quavered into the cold air.

he tried to explain his absence, stumbling over the words, his movements heavy and hesitant. he was still reeling, unable to fully ground himself because the violence of what he had abandoned to get to you still rotted deep within his chest. still, you stepped forward, reaching out until your daughter was gently pressed between your chests, securely supported.

his large arm bent instinctively, scooping the little girl into his hold as well, broad, calloused palm flattening against your own, almost lacing his fingers through yours. you cupped his jaw, the angular curve fitting perfectly into your touch, a familiarity far greater than he had ever permitted you to take back then.

as you lured him inside, shushing him with a honeyed whisper “it’s alright. . i understand” arthur shook his head once in a dull, silent protest, but still followed you step by step into the house. he even bent his massive frame to try and tug his heavy boots off at the threshold, but you reached out once more, grasping his coat sleeve to guide him further into the cottage.

past the counter where the flour for the pie crust sat untouched, and into the dim space where the old wallpaper was flaking off the corners of the walls, which nonetheless managed to hold the welcoming aroma of butter and sweet jam. your daughter murmured a tiny, quiet coo, her grabby hands waving up as if calling to him, too, and he went without resistance.

even after you placed her into the crib, with the autumn wind rattling the loose windowpanes and the bedside candle threw a weak, shivering shadow across the quilt, he didn't leave. he sat heavily at the bed's edge, the old mattress sagging under his sheer weight, wooden frame groaning. he’d hung his heavy coat on your unstable hall tree, boots discarded at the bedroom doorway, driven by a protective urge not to track dirt across the room where his baby slept.

“she's yours” you whispered into the quiet, breaking the long silence after he had spent hours simply watching the baby sleep in her tiny crib. the girl looked so much like him it made him want to rip his own face off, not because he resented their bloodline, but because his mug was plastered on every goddamned bounty board and brick wall in the country.

it was obvious, painfully so, yet you offered the reassurance anyway, not to remind him of his burden, but to help him find an anchor. you stood by his side, slipping out of your day dress and into a soft chemise, fabric rustling with the same sound leaves do when kissing under summer breeze. it was well past midnight, and he’d shot down every gesture of comfort, turned away the tea, the coffee, the hot food.

you’d gone ahead and mixed the pie crust, while he had simply sat in the corner, watching your body move without uttering a single word, just as he was doing now. “aah know, god— aah know” he rasped, voice a low, guttural croak that filled the bedroom. you stepped up behind him, laying a tender hand upon his shoulder and using your thumb to soothe the tense line of his neck, sweeping up and down.

arthur let out a rough breath and caved, a subtle shift of his weight as his massive frame finally went lax, the rigid knots in his muscles unravelling one by one, much like a clew. moving in front of him, you gently pressed against his chest, forcing him back until his elbows dug into the sheets, and you slid your weight onto his taut lap. his throat arched as you bent your head, plump lips finding his to press a soft, lingering kiss against the corner of parting mouth.

he didn't fight it, but he didn't touch you either, his brow creasing when you tried to guide his hands to your waist, as if you were telling him you can touch me, here i am, earning a troubled scowl. his hooded, bloodshot gaze fell to your thighs as they parted, where your sheer chemise bunched up, accentuating bared skin and soft curves completely exposed under his gaze.

clearly mangling something deeply rooted, a man you still had to fully unravel, bound together as you two were by such a strange, unforgiving fate. finally, arthur's palms fell against your waist, clamped at the slope, hoisting you up and off his lap with a tight grip. you managed only a startled squeak before your spine molded against the blanket, head cushioned by the pillows.

he collapsed against you, face buried at your chest and his nose flattening deep against your collarbones, lingering there, so you let him stay. his large hands cupped the space beneath your ribs, mapping their outline perfectly, while your arms looped tightly around his sturdy back. staring blindly at the ceiling, you listened to the howling wind outside, wondering where this road would take you both.

her husky voice sends shivers down your spine, making all the hair on your body stand straight up. you gulp, biting the inside of your lip as you turn to face her. holy fuck, she's so pretty. and she's trying to hit on you. and your mouth feels like cotton.

and you're going to ruin this, aren't you?

you nod gently, cheeks flaming as she grins and grabs the attention of the bartender to order you another drink. you're slightly jealous it's so easy for her. if you had done it, he probably would've ignored you and made you look like a complete idiot.

she pushes the drink toward you, and you nod at her with a tiny smile. you grow self-conscious as she watches you take a sip, her eyes dropping to the way you lick your lips afterwards.

"i'm nat." she leans in again, but this time her lips are grazing against your ear.

you have to respond now. fuck. it's a simple response, one you've done millions of times. but also one you've ignored because you couldn't open your mouth.

just like now.

the all-too-familiar choking feeling in your throat starts, and it even hurts to swallow as you try to ignore it and open your mouth. your face burns with embarrassment as she looks at you, her eyes scanning your face, finding herself endeared by your shyness.

you start to feel very uncomfortable now, even despite liking her clearly hitting on you. but you never know what to do in these situations. your pursuer usually ends up getting annoyed with your inability to talk and leaves.

all you can muster is an uneasy smile. you keep avoiding her eyes, feeling both uncomfortable and shy from how intensely she's looking at you, waiting for you. your thighs hurt from digging your nails into them so roughly while she smiles lightly and stares at you.

you hear her chuckle lightly, and your stomach fills with dread. she's gonna leave, isn't she? or worse, make fun of you. your mind starts to race, and you desperately try to scream at yourself to just blurt your name out. that's all you have to do. that's all you have to say to make her stay.

"i like you." she places her hand over your thigh, the one you're currently not scratching up. she squeezes it gently, the cool touch from her rings a stark contrast against your blazing skin. "i was watching you from across the bar. i had to come over and say hi, try to shoot my shot."

oh, god. you don't even wanna know for how long. how embarrassing.

nat grins while watching you dip your head to try and hide your face. she finds it endearing. she's completely charmed by you and your shyness. she's dealt with a few shy girls in her life, but none like you. at this point, the girl would've spoken, would've at least said her name and given her more than head nods and head shakes. you haven't said a single word.

there are only two things she can think about: getting to break you, and getting to take you home.

she doesn't think you're uncomfortable with her advances, at least she hopes you aren't. she hopes you would've shooed her away by now, and you're not just putting up with her just because you're too scared to speak up.

she has to know.

"do you want me to leave you alone?" she asks, digging her fingers into your thigh to make you look at her again. her flirty tone is gone, replaced with sincerity. when you immediately shake your head no, she smiles, a wave of relief washing over her.

she's glad you want her to stay. you've captivated her. it's not what she usually feels toward girls she wants a one-night stand with. i mean, of course, she wants you in her bed, but she wouldn't be mad if you overstayed your welcome.

nat scoots in closer and snakes her hand across your back, resting her hand on your hip. she licks her lips close by your ear, and the smack of her lips that you hear makes your stomach flip. she reaches for her drink on the bar counter and takes a sip. you're so close that you can hear her tiny gulps, and you're hypnotized by her throat bobbing up and down. when she sets her drink down, and you see her lips shining with vodka, all you wanna do is lean forward and lick it off.

but you don't. you just glance at them while she looks around the bar and the crowd of people. you feel like you got caught when her head suddenly turns to you again, and you bite the inside of your lip while bowing your head down.

"let me take you back to my place? i'd love to introduce you to my bed."

i bet it's seen many people, is what you would have said, if you could.

but your heart starts pounding at the thought of this gorgeous girl having her way with you. you nod a few times, trying to let her know that yes, you very much do consent.

nat gives you a cocky smile and offers you her hand. the second you take it, she's leading you out of the bar and down the street where her car is parked. you're a bit shocked when she stops in front of a black porsche and opens the passenger door for you. it smells like a mix of weed, cigarettes, and booze when you get in and buckle yourself.

the car ride to her house is a nice kind of awkward. just her trying to talk to you and you nodding while she's looking at the road. you have to hum in response sometimes, but the more she talks about what she wants to do with you, the more your throat starts to open up.

"so," she starts, sneaking a hand over to rest on your lap. "are you gonna tell me your name? i have to know it if i wanna moan it while i'm fucking you."

you chew on your lip, considering it. even though you're semi-warmed up to her, and you know how much she wants you, the choked-up feeling in your stomach and throat is still persistent. but, you manage to swallow it down, forcing your mouth open so you can speak.

you mutter your name out, hoping she understood what you said because it would be mortifying to hear her ask for you to speak up.

nat turns to you in surprise, and your ears start to burn when you see a smile growing on her face. a smug one at that.

"so you can speak?" if anyone else had said that, you would've hated it. but right now, it makes you flush and nod. "you sound pretty. i bet your moans are even prettier, though."

;

she's trying to get your clothes off the second you walk through her apartment door, just so desperate and needy and giving you sloppy kisses while fumbling with the button on your pants. you grip her leather jacket as she pushes you toward her bedroom, not wanting to trip on your own feet because she's still kissing and groping you and making you feel very fuzzy in the head.

she has you pressed firmly into the side of the doorframe while she blindly feels up her wall for the light, and once she's got it on, she picks you up and carries you over to her bed. she places you in the middle and bends down to kiss you a bit more, her mind telling her to pull away so she can take off her clothes, but she gets lost in hearing your quiet sighs while her tongue explores your mouth.

eventually, she gets too overwhelmed with the urge to feel your skin on hers, and she pulls away. she thinks you look so pretty with your swollen lips and blown-out pupils. all she can do is stare and admire you while she shakes off her jacket and slips off her shirt. while she's busy taking her jeans off, and after you stop drooling at the sight of her strap bulge, you think it's best to start undressing yourself. shaky hands lift your shirt off your body and throw it on her bedroom floor. the cold air hitting your body makes your nipples stiffen, and you bite your lip while slouching back against the headboard and removing your jeans. nat helps you out and tugs them off your ankles like she's in a hurry, her hands immediately grab onto your legs and pull you close to her.

your crotch is flush against her front, her strap rests against your stomach, and you feel faint at how many inches are gonna be inside of you.

nat slowly begins to thrust, almost like she's teasing you with how big it is. her hands wander your body, groping and squeezing every inch of skin that she can. her thumb swipes against your hardening nipple, and she watches with slight disappointment as you bite your lip to hide the sounds she knows are so pretty.

maybe she'll just have to try harder.

she pinches it between her fingers, tugging and pulling while her eyes look down at you darkly.

she feels you squeeze your thighs around hers, hips moving up ever so slightly to try and grind against her strap.

you hold your breath as she grips it, nails digging into her sheets as you feel the tip poking at your entrance.

"you're already so wet," she says it breathlessly, looking down at your wet crotch and licking her lips. "were you wet back at the bar, or are you just pathetic and get wet from a few kisses?"

you nod to the first one, but of course, she doesn't know that. she grins and laughs either way, her stomach flipping at the thought of you being drenched while still so, so shy.

the tip of her strap sinks in just a little more, and nat's ears twitch at the sound of a faint moan coming from you. she removes her hand from the shaft and places both hands on either side of your head while gently thrusting inside. she stares at your lips, which are currently thin from you trying to suppress your whines. nat leans down and captures them, and your hands instinctively fly to her back to hold. she hopes with her lips on yours, you won't be able to hide your sounds. it's all she wants to hear.

she wants to break you, make it so you can't even control yourself while she's deep inside you. she wants you to let loose, be as loud as you want.

she doesn't get what she's hoping for when she bottoms out completely, but she does get the satisfaction of you clawing up her back while wiggling her hips and making sure you feel her strap deep in your stomach.

"moan for me, baby." nat places hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck as she starts thrusting hard, and you can feel her smiling against your skin when you arch your back and dig your nails deeper into her freckled back. she holds her breath while listening out for your moans, ends up panting into your chest after holding it for so long.

but it doesn't take long to go dumb on her strap, and you find that tightness in your throat disappearing. your mouth, which was clamped shut, slowly opens. and when nat slams her hips roughly into yours, you can't even move your mouth in time to try and hide it. you can't move your mouth at all, in fact. you're just slumped against the bed, your body feeling like jelly as nat uses your body.

nat coos at you, your little moans making her heart thump and her body all fuzzy. "that's it, just let it out." she chuckles to herself as you whine and grunt, and it spurs her on to fuck you harder and faster.

"mhhh-nat!" she's the only thing you feel, only thing on your mind.

nat's smile grows bigger, to the point where she can feel it stretching her cheeks. the room fills with the sound of skin slapping against each other and your rowdy cries.

nat's in heaven.

and she wonders if you'll speak to her tomorrow.

"There she is. The great pornstar reduced to a whimpering mess. Can't even keep up with my cock. You all hyped her up so much... She's just another weak little fuck toy!~" He leaned in closer to the camera with a mocking smirk.

He continues to fuck you brutally, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The camera captures every detail of your exhausted face, your swollen pussy being stretched by his massive cock. "Look at those pretty eyes rolling back. Where's that famous stamina now?~" He laughs softly.

"Y-You...!"

He chuckles darkly at your fragmented protest, his small body moving with supernatural energy. "Yes, baby? You going to say something? Like how you're supposed to be the queen of stamina?" He slaps your pussy hard, making it jiggle. "Eight hours in..."

He leans down, his voice low and mocking in your ear. "And you're already falling apart. Pathetic. They built you up so much... 'The Pornstar with Infinite Stamina'. Turns out you're just another fuck doll with a pretty face~"

Asmo smirks against your neck, feeling your walls tighten around his dick. He's been purposefully dragging out your orgasm for hours, denying you the release you desperately need. But now, with his cruel words and brutal fucking, he finally pushes you over the edge. "There it is,"

He bites your neck hard as you start to cum, his hips moving at a punishing pace. The camera captures your face contorting in pleasure-pain, your mouth open in a silent scream. He grins wickedly. "Cumming already? Without permission?" He slaps your clit, prolonging your orgasm. "Bad girl..."

"N-No...!"

He ignores your protest and keeps fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're a sobbing, trembling mess. Only then does he pull out, allowing your pussy to clamp shut with a loud pop. "There we go... Good girl broken~" He smiles cruelly at the camera.

Asml wipes his cock off on your thigh, already hardening again. He looks at the camera, then back at you. "What position next? Let's see... How about something really degrading for my little pornstar." He thinks for a moment before grinning maliciously.

He flips you onto your stomach abruptly, forcing your face down into the pillow. He spreads your legs wide and pushes your ass up high, exposing your swollen pussy and sensitive clit to the camera. He grabs a pillow and places it under your hips to lift you higher. "Perfect!~"

He runs his tongue along your swollen lips, tasting your juices mixed with his own cum. He laughs softly against your pussy. "Look at this sensitive little thing... A pornstar who can't even handle eight hours of dicking without cumming like a slut~"

He chuckles darkly as his creampie spills out of your pussy with just one lick. He spreads your cheeks apart and pushes two fingers inside your messy hole, scooping out more of his cum. "Fucking pathetic... One lick and my creampie falls out."

He holds up his cum-covered fingers to the camera, showing off the mess that spilled out of you. "What should I do with this disgraceful pornstar? She can't even keep my cum inside her pussy for five minutes." He waits for comments to roll in. "Suggestions?~"

Comments flood in, each one suggesting more humiliating punishments.

'Make her clean your cock with her mouth'

'Force her to walk around with your cum dripping out'

'Pound her until she learns to keep cum inside her pussy'

"Look at all these ideas..."

He smirks at the comment 'Pound her until she learns to keep cum inside her pussy'. He nods in agreement. "Alright, that's a good one. Let's teach this pornstar a lesson about keeping Asmo's cum inside her holes." He grabs some lube from the side table. "Let's get started!~"

He pounded your pussy mercilessly for hours, his thick dick stretching you wide open. Your pussy was red and swollen, dripping with his creampies. Every time you thought you might be able to keep his cum inside, he'd pull out and spurt more inside you.

"Such a good little whore, taking Asmo's cock so nicely. But you can't even keep my cum inside you, can you? Pathetic little pornstar. You're just a hole to fill, aren't you?" He slaps your pussy softly between brutal thrusts.

Comments are going wild, encouraging him to destroy your pussy.

"Fuck yes, destroy that pornstar pussy!"

"She was supposed to be good at this?"

"I've seen better cum retention from amateurs!"

He reads them aloud, laughing and thrusting harder.

He pulls out slowly, his cock coated in both of your juices and leaking cum. He looks at your red, abused pussy and shakes his head. "We can keep going like this all night, but you'll never learn to keep cum inside that sloppy hole."

"So, what should we do instead? I'm not stopping fucking you anytime soon, and you're clearly not cut out for this 'keeping dick inside' business." He taps his fingers on your hip, awaiting an answer. The comments section is filled with ideas. "What do you think?~"

His smile turns sadistic and cruel as an idea pops into his head. He spreads your legs wider apart, pulling out his massive cock only to slap it against your swollen pussy with force. "I've got a great idea... Since you can't keep cum inside your pussy..."

He runs his thumb along your belly button, pretending to trace the path to your womb. "I could just shoot my load directly into your womb instead of wasting it in your pathetic little pussy!~ What do you think about that, princess?"

Your eyes widened, "I... I might get pregnant..."

He laughs maniacally at your wide-eyed expression. "Oh, you think so?" He presses the head of his cock against your cervix, pushing slightly. "Well, that's the point, dumbass." He looks at the camera with a psychopathic grin.

"We've been fucking raw for hours, and you've already taken like ten or more creampies. What's one more straight into your uterus?" He circles your belly button with his thumb again. "You might just get knocked up tonight, Princess. How does that sound?"

He leans down close to your ear, whispering softly so the camera can't pick up his voice. "And maybe... just maybe, I'll finally have something of mine inside you permanently. No more sharing that pretty little pussy with other men." He kisses your neck gently.

"W-What are you talking about...?" You whispered through gritted teeth as to not be heard by the camera

He chuckles darkly, pulling back to look into your eyes. His expression turns serious and almost possessive. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Princess." He pushes slightly harder against your cervix. "One good shoot directly into your womb..."

He leans in close again, his hot breath on your ear as he speaks softly. "And then you'll finally be truly mine. No more contracts, no more sharing you with other men. Just you and me, and a baby growing inside you." He bites your earlobe possessively. "My family."

He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and confused. He walks over to the camera, waving casually at the audience. "Alright folks, that's enough for tonight. Thanks for tuning in!" He ends the live stream abruptly, cutting off the comments and views. "Now..."

You felt a nervous sweat dot your brow. Wringing your fingers before yourself, you said, “Um, show me again?”

“Sure, sure. Step back like this…one fist to your chin, the other in front…then wham!”

The way Lohen’s fist punched through the air was already giving you a heart attack. You gawked at him when he started to bounce back and forth on his heels, explaining to you, “You can even throw a jab like this! Then a straight! Then a good old uppercut!”

His lithe body moved through the steps as your mind struggled to come to terms with them. Massaging your hands together, you winced when Lohen let out an excited laugh. His crimson eyes twinkled as they stared at you, a smirk pushing one corner of his lips higher than the other.

“Oh, don’t look so scared. It kinda turns me on.”

“Shut up,” you said, heat pooling in your cheeks. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“What? That’s, like, kinda the whole point.” He grinned, popping his eyebrows at you. “Come on, you know you wanna try it. Give it a go. Hit me!”

He spanned his arms out like he was waiting for a hug, but you knew Lohen better than to assume that. You probably would have preferred if he was in a snuggling mood, though, because you weren’t even sure how to approach the act of punching your boyfriend in the face.

“I don’t know,” you stammered. “It doesn’t really feel natural. Like…I don’t think I’d be able to hit you just because you asked me to.”

“Bun, you’re overthinking it.” He flapped his fingers inwards, towards himself. The smug grin on his face persisted when he said, “Just do it. Will it help if I tell you I want it?”

Not really, because you could already tell that’s what he wanted.

“Hm.” Lohen crossed one arm over his chest, the other coming up with his pensive fist. He rubbed his chin, observing you with a raised eyebrow as he continued to let out thoughtful hums. He raised one eyebrow, let it fall, then raised the other eyebrow, and let that one fall too.

“Stop doing that,” you mumbled. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” Lohen asked, shifting his brows across his forehead again. “Does it make you mad?”

“Not mad, just uncomfortable—.”

“What if I burned down the library?” he asked chipperly. “Would that make you mad?”

“What?! I’d be devastated!” you shot back. “Lisa and I have spent so long arranging every text in that library! There’s centuries of knowledge in there! You can’t just go and burn it down!”

“Mm,” Lohen said, his teeth biting into his grinning lower lip. “I like it when you yell at me…but I’m afraid that won’t stop me from burning your precious books to the ground, sweetheart.”

“You’re not actually going to do something like that. I know you’re just saying that. R-right?!”

The words left your lips, but your brain was already fixated on an image of chaos. Lohen, sneaking into the Knights of Favonius library with a match in his hand, waiting for you to organize every last book return and label each new addition before casually setting the place ablaze.

Oh, that was definitely a possible outcome. Knowing him, he’d be so covert about it that you wouldn’t even notice until the whole place was nothing but ashes.

“You’re maaad,” he said in a sing-song voice. “So mad you could punch me. Right?”

“Are you trying to threaten me into beating you?!”

“Pft! Oh, come on, you know I’d never do that! It’s just a bit of light coercion.”

Was he bluffing or was he serious? Did you really want to wait around and find out?

“Hey, what was the name of that porn book you’ve been reading?” Lohen asked, tapping his chin. “The one from that series you’ve been waiting on for the past two years?”

Your cheeks smoldered into flames. Indignantly, you snapped, “Fate’s Glimmer is not a porn book! It’s a romantic tragedy that analyzes the conflicts between conquest and birthright—!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Lohen waved his hand dismissively, his smirk growing wider. “I’m pretty sure you left your porn book on my nightstand. Wouldn’t you just hate if something were to happen to it? I mean, you went and got the collector’s edition and all…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Waste of money if you ask me. Why read porn when you could just fuck me—!”

—WHAP!

Lohen’s head whirled from the impact of your fist against his cheek, his words struck dead on his tongue. Your knuckles protested with throbbing pain, but by the Archons if it didn’t feel good to wipe that smug smile off his face. It was one thing for him to burn down the library, but to incinerate Fate’s Glimmer: Collector’s Edition Vol. 24? He had gone too far!

“It’s a romantic tragedy!” you barked. “It's a brilliant analysis on how war impacts families and intimate relationships! Any explicit content is solely for the purpose of accompanying the plot, but you wouldn’t understand that, you…! You…! Ugh!”

Lohen’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide during your whole tirade. As you came down from your moment of fury, you quickly snapped back to your senses.

You had just punched Lohen in the face. Over a book. You assaulted your boyfriend; over a novel.

You winced. “I’m sorry—.”

“—fuck,” Lohen said over you, red seeping into his face. He tongued at the inside of his cheek, moaning. “Good job, Bun. Now do it again.”

“You are just so—!” Your hands curled up into fists before you let out a ragged sigh. “No, I’m not going to hit you again!”

His eyes turned half-lidded, a perverse smile settling across his lips. Slowly, he drawled, “Then I guess I’m gonna piss in your porn book.”

Before you could stop yourself, your body was launching across the room, barreling straight into his.

Lohen liked playfighting a bit too much. Maybe it was because you’d stand no chance against him in a real fight—and you wouldn’t ever be foolish enough to try. Since he couldn’t spar with you, he spent most of his time finding other ways to force you into a tussle.

His face loomed over yours, cackling.

“Hey, Bun! Remind me what the characters in your ‘romantic tragedy’ were doing in that last chapter you told me about?!”

You let out an anguished groan, heat bathing your cheeks as you stared into his mocking red eyes. Lohen laughed, his hands pinning your shoulders to the ground, and in a teasing voice asked, “Why the hesitation, sweetheart? I thought it was an analysis on war!”

“Ugh, screw you!” you spat, pushing up into his chest with the flat of your palms. “Corina and Zand finally reunited after a whole year! It’s only natural for there to be tension!”

“And what did they do during their glorious reunion? What’d they do with all that tension—huh, Bun? Enlighten me!”

You shoved your body weight forward, and even though he was far stronger than you, he pretended to flip onto the ground anyway. He grinned from ear-to-ear as you sat atop of him, your hands curled into the collar of his shirt.

“They’re in love!” you sputtered, the burning sensation in your face intensifying. “They haven’t seen each other in a year! It’s only logical they would…!”

“It’s only logical they would…!” he mocked in a high-pitched, girly voice. “Logical they would what, Bun? Do a little bit of this?!”

You yelped when he bucked his hips underneath you, sending you bouncing atop his lap as his laughter filled your ears. You pressed your hand to his mouth, trying to suffocate those uncontrolled chortles under your palm, but Lohen only moaned and bit you.

“Ow!”

“You like that, bunny?” he asked, his grin splitting his face in two. “You wanna bounce on me just like Corina bounced on Zand?”

“Stop!” you whined, stuck between a strange cross of irritated and horny. “You’re so annoying!”

“That didn’t sound like a no to me!”

His hips popped up into yours again, the bulge in his trousers meeting the skirt of your dress. Glaring at him, you snapped, “You can’t seriously be horny right now!”

“Oh, yeah,” he groaned exaggeratedly. “Yell at me some more, won’t you, babe? I might just bust.”

“Why are you like this?!”

“Oh, I can be worse! Wanna hear my best impression of you when you’re bouncing on my dick?”

“No, of course I don’t—!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” he mimicked, rutting up against you all the while. “Lohen, slow down! I’m gonna cuuum!”

With a furious scream, you lifted him by his collar—which he let you do—before thrusting him back into the ground. His laugh was borderline-maniacal, tears budding at the corners of his eyes as he play-struggled beneath you. But before you could think to move, your world was spinning, and with your back pressed solidly into the ground, Lohen was on top of you again. He rutted against you with sharp, sporadic thrusts, mimicking, “Lohen, Lohen, Lohen!”

“Fucking stop it!” you blurted.

“Oh, but you’re wet, aren’t you? I don’t even have to touch you to feel it.”

No you were not wet for Lohen while he dryhumped you across the floor of your living room and imitated the way you moaned for him when he fucked the living soul out of you—.

“I’m wet,” you mumbled, your heart pounding against your ears.

“Of course you are,” he purred. “Your brain’s all addled from that porn book of yours. You don’t even notice how horny you get when you read it, do you?”

“Stop,” you complained, pressing your eyes closed. “I most definitely do not get horny while reading it.”

“You do,” he purred, hips rocking, hands rising to your face. “I sit and watch you read sometimes. When you start biting your lip, that’s how I know you’re at the smut part.”

“I don’t do that,” you protested.

“Yeah you do, Bun. And you start looking around too, trying to make sure I can’t see those filthy little pages of yours.”

Of course Lohen would notice something like that, even when you thought you were being covert about it. There wasn’t much you could hold over his head in the surprise variety—you even stopped trying to hide his birthday presents after the third foiled attempt. After you got together, he suggested that next time you cut the gimmicks and show up with a bow taped to your tits and a dagger in your hand.

Lohen’s laughter drove the scene from your mind. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your mouth, after which he said, “Want me to fuck you?”

You closed your eyes and whimpered, “Yes.”

Your fingers curled into Lohen’s shoulders as he moved atop of you. Legs tucked over his back, you encouraged the forward motion of his hips with each of his hard thrusts. Lohen nibbled at your chin, his nails scratching against the hardwood floor beside your head.

“You’re so embarrassed,” Lohen said, laughing against your jaw. “How adorable.”

Your cunt throbbed in response to his provocation, squeezing around his girth. Lohen’s tongue plopped onto your chin, and with a lazy drag upwards, smeared his wet saliva all over your face. When he reached your mouth, you stubbornly kept your lips pressed closed.

“Huh?” he asked. “You don’t want your kisses? When you’re the one who always whines about them?”

He snapped his hips forward again, making you release a strained moan into the air. The way Lohen fucked into you mashed against the sweet bundle of nerves pocketed inside, and he wasn’t a stranger to abusing that. He angled himself better for it, and it was somewhat painful when he stabbed into it again, but your pleasure was undeniable. Lohen tried for your mouth again, and you quickly clamped your panting lips shut.

He chuckled, his teeth nipping your upper lip. You flinched, and he giggled more.

“You mad at me?” he asked teasingly. “Just ‘cause I made fun of you for reading erotica?”

Your brows furrowed together. “It’s not eroti—! Mm!”

Ah, he had gotten you with that one. While your mouth was open, snapping at him, he had leaned down to slot his against yours. His hot tongue broke past your lips, waltzing around between your teeth like it owned the place. He moaned against you, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks, and gave you another solid thrust.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt. Eyes fluttering shut, you felt yourself slip into a state of pure bliss.

But then things started to get cold. You thought you were imagining it at first, that maybe it was just a shiver, but then your teeth started chattering against the soft of Lohen’s tongue. He crooned a naughty little giggle, and the reason behind your frigid state became startlingly clear.

Shuddering, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body further into yours. You turned your face away from his kiss, clinging to his warm frame as you barked, “Why are you doing that?”

Of course, you were referring to his inappropriate use of his cryo vision. Lohen snickered.

“I like it when you cling onto me,” he purred. “Makes me feel good.”

“It’s c-cold,” you complained.

“Then I guess you’ll have to cling a little bit harder.”

“Lohen…”

You groaned, but you wrapped yourself around him tighter anyway. With both arms and legs holding him in a vice-like grip, you hooked your chin over his shoulder, your cheeks warm. He nuzzled into the side of your face, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek all the while. For a guy who complained about the mundanity of kisses and cuddles, he sure was a hypocrite whenever he was on top of you like this. You had even started wondering if he liked it more than you did.

Your palms, flat against his back, stroked across his blue button down. He let out a breath against your cheek.

“You feel good,” you murmured.

His hips stuttered. Lifting his face back over yours, Lohen grinned at you, red consuming his cheeks from ear to ear.

“Yeah?” he said. “You like me or something, Bun?”

You cracked a smile back, rolling your eyes. “You’re so silly.”

“Heh…cheeky girl. I’ll show you silly.”

He rammed into you harder, his brows furrowed, but with a satisfied smile still etched across his face. You moaned his name, your eyes trained on that wicked grin of his. When his mouth descended onto yours, you dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt.

“Mm,” he moaned. Between wet, sloppy mashes of his mouth against yours, “Gonna fuck you silly, Bun.”

Embarrassing, but you liked the sound of it.

“Gonna make you go, oh, Lohen!”

Okay, now he was just being a dick. Your cunt was still throbbing though, so what did that say about you?

“Ah, Lohen, stop!” he mocked, his shoulders shaking with his laughs. “Good impression, no?”

“Can you not make fun of me while you’re fucking me?!”

“Aw, but I like it! You’re so cute when you’re mad, Bun!”

“Just shut up and fuck me!” you sputtered.

“Ha! Well, if you insist.”

“Oh,” you moaned suddenly, feeling the stroke of his cock shift into a pound. His tip fucked that spot you adored like he’d never get a chance at it again, and as pleasure shot through your core in hot waves, you sputtered, “Yeah, just…just like that.”

“I’m gonna make a bingo card next time,” he purred. “Fill it full of the shit you say when you’re about to cum.”

Why, oh why did you like it when he made fun of you like that?

“I wonder if it’s gonna be slow down! or not yet! this time. What do you think, Bun?”

“Slow down,” you slurred, your heels digging into his hips. “Fuck, Lohen, slow down.”

“Like music to my ears.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. “Please stop.”

“But I want you to cum, pretty girl.”

Oh fuck him.

Lohen laughed when you slipped into it, your hands clawing at the back of his shirt while you mewled and moaned the exact way he had made fun of you for. You felt the sting of his hips into yours, a bit of biting cold that he couldn’t control, preceded by the lively throb of his dick inside you. Your back arched as though you were being pulled to Celestia, but Lohen’s body kept you tethered, holding you right where you were.

“Fuuuck,” he drawled, his eyes unfocused. He grinned, but the expression twitched, shifting his face between a smug one and a desperate one. Fingers clawing into the floor beneath you, Lohen half-spat, half-moaned, “Bunny.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were cumming again—.

“Good…good job,” he said, his voice lilting into a whimper. “You’re my…my everything, Bunny.”

Tears budded at the corners of your eyes. Holding him ever so tight, you whined back, “I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky laugh. Lowering his head, the tip of his nose brushed against yours.

“Pretty girl,” he crooned. “I love you more.”

With an ear-splitting smile, tears ran down your cheeks as you laughed. Lohen craned down to kiss you, swallowing your giggles and salty tears along with your hot tongue.

“Mm,” he said when he withdrew. “Still gonna make that bingo card.”

Your smile immediately fell flat. Whamming your fists against his shoulders, Lohen only nuzzled into you and laughed.

What a pain of a boyfriend. He was stupid, reckless, and borderline psychotic.

Yet in the depths of your heart, you knew you wouldn’t want him any other way.

Hm, the grandmaster wasn't incorrect in his observations. He had been consistent in his streak of recklessness and impulsiveness, always seeking out danger and excitement without much regard for consequences, causing everyone a headache at one point or another.

Now he's extending that migraine to the grandmaster for having the audacity to ask for his blessing on marrying his adoptive daughter.

Though he sensed more words lingering on the tip of Varka's tongue, he patiently allowed himself to be quiet and listen for a moment.

"However," the older man lifted his finger as an emphasis of the gravity of his next words, "you will not marry her," he said firmly, sizing up his fatherly glare to the boy's nonchalance.

Lohen cocked his head to the side, as if he didn't understand why the grandmaster would deny his heartfelt request. With a frown, he replied. "Why not? I'm more capable of protecting your daughter from harm than anyone else."

Varka stammered for a bit, attempting to make logic of his concerns before finally speaking. He sighed heavily, running a rough hand over his stressed face before answering, "Again, I don't doubt your capability of protecting her."

Lohen continued to press on the matter, his body slightly leaning over curiously. "Then what is the issue?"

Varka didn't respond right away, bringing out his emergency flat metal container of booze from the pockets of his jeans, uncapping the circular lid, and then replying. His eyes gently cast down at the awaiting drink. "[Y/N] is still trying to figure out what to do with her life."

He paused, taking a quick sip of the alcohol, and then continued with a sigh. "She just turned into a lovely young woman and has stuff that she is passionate about, sure. But I don't want to interfere with her path by just accepting," he motioned with his hand toward Lohen. "Your blessing without her input."

He took another sip before looking back up at the latter. "And of course, as her father, I don't just casually let suitors into her life without giving them a quick clash to prove their worth." He chuckled lightly, shaking the half-emptied container in his hand. "My daughter deserves a man who is willing to work for her love and respect, not just someone who expects it to be handed to him on a silver platter."

Though his eyes had little warmth beneath them, only a fair warning.

"Is that all clear?" Varka said with a sense of finality.

Lohen was silent. Remarkably rare for him, as he usually had a quick response ready. Though his silence should not be mistaken as an agreement to the wise words of the grandmaster, it was more likely a sign of defiance or just plain ignorance. "Then could you relay the message to [Y/N]?" he requested.

Varka deadpanned. "Are you even listening to me, kid?"

"Oh, I did," Lohen replied, nodding his head. "If you wish to know how serious I am about your daughter, then let's settle it with a duel." In the blink of an eye, blue swirls of energy enveloped Lohen's hands as he materialized a polearm that gleamed in the sunlight, ignoring a certain red-headed individual's annoyed protest of, "If you're gonna bring bloodshed, at least get out of the tavern."

The casualness had eventually transformed into that signature maniacal grin and bloodthirsty glint in his dull red eyes that Varka had seen too many times before.

At this point, Varka would rather assume that Lohen wanted an excuse to fight him under the guise of proving his commitment to his daughter.

Kids these days…

"You are really going to extreme lengths just to prove a point," Varka remarked, pinching his nose in disbelief. "But if that's what it takes for you to show your dedication, then so be it."

He rested his hand on the back of his chair, pushing himself up to stand, and cracking the joints in his neck as he did so. "What are you two doing?"

Both men froze at the familiar owner of that sweet voice.

There you stood at the entrance of the tavern, your hand positioned on the wooden door frame, a look of curiosity and concern etched on your face. You took the opportunity to use the silence as an edge to assess the situation unfolding before you, wondering why the hell they are trying to cause a ruckus as an invitation to be permanently banned by the tavern in the middle of the night.

You looked first at your sheepish father, scratching his blond hair in awkwardness, and then at the Lohen who was still equipped with his weapon, as if ready for a fight or really ready for a fight.

His battle-hungry expression schooled back into one of casual indifference as he caught your eye, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good evening, my lady," he said with a slight bow, his tone laced with practiced charm. "We were just having a little chat with your father here." He motioned with his head to the old man who's currently giving him a look, though the gesture was disregarded purposefully, and then Varka turned his attention to you, clearing his throat.

"So… Uh, how's the progress of your collaborated research with Albedo, sweet pea?" he asked, forcing a poor attempt at a smile, sitting back on the stool as he tried to hide the awkwardness that flickered in his eyes.

At the mention of the affectionate nickname from a long, long ago, your face scrunched up in disgust. It had been quite some time since he had addressed you with that endearing term, and using that specifically now felt like a deliberate attempt to divert your attention from the bigger picture.

"What is going on here, Dad?" you replied, arching a distrustful eyebrow.

Silence followed after your question, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for his response. Finally, it was not your father who cracked the stillness, but rather the part-time bartender himself, Diluc.

"This gentleman," Diluc said, setting his gaze at Lohen while keeping his hands busy cleaning the same glass over and over again, "has asked for your father's blessing to propose to you." Then he shifted his bored gaze back to your unusually quiet father, a hint of amusement betraying his expression despite the border of professionalism he maintained.

He can already tell the simmering betrayal emitting from Varka, judging by how tensed his jawline is and how his grip on the container tightens.

"Pro…proposal?" you stammered, your face burning from feeling caught off guard by the mention of an unexpected proposal.

Diluc nodded in confirmation, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed your flustered reaction. "I'll leave the rest of the details to them," he said, gesturing towards your father and Lohen. He placed the glassware on an open upper cabinet, mouthing to you, "Good luck," before excusing himself from the situation to avoid getting tangled further in the delicate family matters.

Now, it was just the three of you, and maaaaybeeee, a knowing audience secretly watching the drama unfold from a discreet distance.

Your father chugged down the remaining booze from the container, swiping off the dripping juice from his chin with the back of his hand and sighing heavily. "As Diluc stated, yes, he was trying to get my blessing to marry you."

He tightened the lid of the container and set it back on the counter, his expression unreadable. "And I refused his request."

"YOU REFUSED HIS REQUEST?!"

The sheer volume of your bewildered voice jolted your father, causing him to flinch slightly. Even Lohen was stunned, but slightly touched by your shaky reaction.

He returned the bewildered stare, his eyebrows knitting together as if he weren't expecting the intensity of your reaction. "Hey, keep it down, will you?" he muttered, glancing around to see some of the drunkard fools furthering indulging themselves with the drama until they wisely looked away after catching his warning-like glare.

"I refused to give him my blessing until you give me your permission to marry you,"

He scowled. "But I doubt you would agree; you're doing fine on your own without boys trying to flock over you—"

"Then I want to marry him!"

"Huh?"

"Please let me marry him, Dad!"

Lohen looked back and forth at the father-daughter interaction with profound intrigue, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

Well, this is certainly unexpected, he thought to himself. But he wasn't complaining either.

You pressed forward before courage could desert you again.

"I've… I've liked him for a long time, Dad." Your voice cracked on the admission, with your cheeks scorching hot. "Months? I don't know, maybe longer?" You scratched your head in frustration, running your hand over your disheveled hair.

"It just is, okay! I know he throws himself into every fight like it's the only thing that makes him alive… but he still finds a way to check if I'm okay first, even when he always comes back bruised. " You swallowed hard, eyes now fixed somewhere near Lohen's boots because looking at either man right now felt impossible.

"I keep waiting for the right moment to say something, but every time I tried, my tongue kept getting stuck… I was too shy to confess."

Silence stretched thin and fragile.

Then the said man exhaled; that might have been relief dressed up as a scoff. The blue energy coiling up around his polearm flickered once and dissolved; the weapon vanished into motes of light as though it had never been summoned. His posture loosened, his shoulder dropping the battle-ready tension he'd worn like armor.

He turned toward Varka, lips curling into that familiar, infuriatingly smug smirk.

"See?" Lohen drawled, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "No need for bloodshed after all. Your daughter just gave her permission herself." The red glint in his eyes sparked with self-satisfaction, then softened a fraction when his gaze slid back to you. He confidently approached you, his hand taking yours, and kissed it gently. "You save a lot of trouble for us, my lady."

You blushed at the unexpected praise, unable to contain your wobbly smile.

Meanwhile, Varka dragged a hand down his face, muttering something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience to Barbatos. After a long beat, he finally looked between the two of you, expression caught somewhere between resignation and reluctant fondness.

The consequences of being a parent to a daughter, he guessed. He's more flexible when it comes to letting you get away with things than he'd like to admit, but he couldn't deny the pleasure it brought him just to see you happy.

"…Fine," he grunted, his voice rough.

He fixed Lohen again with a glare. "But if you make her cry even once, kid. I won't need a duel. I'll just bury you under Stormterror's Lair and tell everyone you got lost on a routine patrol."

Lohen's grin widened, unfazed by the protective-fatherly threat. "Noted."

Varka groaned. "I need another drink for this. You two are going to be the death of me."

Then his gaze drifted to your intertwined hands and grumbled. "Save the PDA for when you're married, please. You two are not allowed to hold hands in public until then."

"Daaaaddddd!" you whined, sending him a half-hearted glare.

Lohen brushed off his feeble warning with a chuckle. "We'll be sure to keep our hands to ourselves until the big day, Grandmaster."

"Though I wished to know now what my fiancée's preferences are for her engagement ring." Surprise flickered in your eyes as you glanced at Lohen, who was already gazing back at you with tenderness. "Shall we browse together tomorrow?"

You would be a fool to refuse such a thoughtful gesture from him.