#reader requests

He had you pinned against the wall. His hard body was pressed against you as he held you up, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs. The dishes in the nearby kitchen cabinets were rattling as he went at you harder. His quiet grunts matched the rhythm of his shamelessly desperate fucking.

He was breathing loud and fast, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat as his piercing eyes met yours. You clung to him, moaning and begging for more. He would give you whatever you wanted. But he wasn’t going to be gentle about it.

When he kissed you, you could feel his true intentions. He wanted you to notice him. To see him for who he really was. And you did. You had told him so, plainly and to his face, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Because despite this being the fourth little rendezvous of yours, he wasn’t letting you in.

You leaned in, caressing the back of his neck while quietly moaning his name. Your mouth pressed against the underside of his jaw, the salt of his skin coating your lips. You trailed them down the side of his neck, softly. You felt him falter. He stopped, holding you still, and he let out a soft sigh. It didn’t last long.

“Stop it,” he told you harshly. The undercurrent of panic was palpable.

“Why?” you breathed out, warming the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he said in a rare moment of honesty. “Just don’t.”

It was there… just a tiny little crack in the nearly impenetrable wall that he had built around himself. Barely visible. Almost enough for you to slither into, but not quite.

He continued to fuck you, each angry thrust harder than the last, punctuated with deep kisses that he tolerated because they were on his terms.

When you came, loudly and startlingly, he watched your face until he couldn’t hold back any longer and you were both trembling and panting.

Afterwards, when he let your feet back on the ground and you got your bearings again, he was still holding onto your waist. You pressed your forehead to his damp shoulder. When you lifted your head, you smiled, feeling satisfied. He wore his usual expression of worry and regret.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, somewhat irritated since you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think we should–”

You didn’t let him finish before you were letting out an exasperated sigh. “Five, I really thought we were past this by now.”

He shook his head and looked at the floor. “I know.”

Against your better judgment, you placed a hand on the side of his face. “Just let me in. You can’t even decide if you like me or not if you won’t even talk to me.”

Five stepped away, grabbing his boxers off the floor and tugging them on. “I talk to you.”

You laughed and started pulling on your own clothes that were scattered around. “Ok, yes, you do talk to me. But only when I force you to or hunt you down. And you never tell me anything important.”

A brief smile flickered over Five’s face. “Hate to break it to you, honey, but I don’t have much to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

Five stepped into his pants, zipping them up before pushing his hair off his face. “What about you? I don’t see you spilling your guts, either.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s hard to talk when you’re shoving your dick down my throat two minutes after you open your door.”

He looked momentarily scared, but then he gave a snort of derision. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I do. Doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy my company. Doesn’t mean you can’t come find me once in a while. I’m not going to keep chasing after you, Five. I don’t care how much I want you.”

He was visibly taken aback. Not by your threat but by the fact that you said you wanted him.

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I never asked you to chase me. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you to leave me alone.”

“And yet here I am,” you said snarkily, gesturing to the room around you. “Again. When we both know there’s no way in hell you would have let me in if you didn’t want me, too.”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that. Your body softened a little and you pulled your shirt over your head. Then you approached him, taking one hand out of his pocket and holding it in yours. Shockingly, he let you.

“The sex is good, Five. Really good. But I can get good sex from someone else. What I want is you. The real you.” You could feel his body tensing again. You tentatively closed the gap between you, leaning in so that your mouth brushed his cheek. “You’re more than this. Show me.”

He flinched, pulling his head back. “You’re a kid.”

You exhaled loudly and rolled your eyes, dropping his hand. “Fuck, this again? Give it a rest, Five. I don’t really give a shit about the age thing.”

“Maybe I do.”

You shook your head. “No you don’t. You just think you do because at some point you decided that gave you morals. Which is total bullshit.”

“You know nothing about my morals,” Five said with a sneer.

“No, I don’t. Which is the whole point!” You stopped, took a breath, and put your hands on your hips. “Why is it such a bad thing that I want you to open up a little? Why are you fighting me so hard?”

He didn’t answer but you could already see that the tiny little crack you had made was sealing up again.

“I’m sorry,” he said tersely.

You nodded and gave a small smile while you looked at the floor. “You don’t have to be sorry, Five. Really, you don’t. And I’m not even mad.” You shrugged and grabbed your purse off the kitchen table. “Can’t say I didn’t try, though.”

On the way out the door, you looked back. “I’ll see you around, ok?”

Five nodded dumbly, still standing in the same spot. You shut the door behind you.

A week passed, and then two. Five went back to his normal routine. Coffee, job, coffee, home, eat, sleep, coffee… repeat every day with maybe a few additions here and there. Like drinking too much and jerking off. Those things didn’t have a set schedule.

He did his best to avoid you again, blinking in and out of his apartment as much as possible, staying away from stairwells and the communal mailboxes. His eyes would flit nervously towards your door when he walked past on his way to the garbage chute. He seemed to have a lot of garbage these days.

One time there was a knock at the door, late at night when he was watching TV. He had smiled to himself before cockily striding over to the door. When he answered it, however, it wasn’t you. Instead, a very tipsy, disheveled man hung onto the door frame and asked Five if Margaret was home. Five had slammed the door in the guy’s face.

Just like after the first time you had kissed him, despite his internal conflict, you had gotten the better of him. He found you creeping into his thoughts while doing mundane tasks. Once he had a dream about you, which proved you were sneaking into his subconscious, as well. The details of the dream had been hazy when Five woke up, but he knew it had entailed you softly moaning his name.

Your absence around his apartment had not gone unnoticed. After a while, he stopped actively trying to avoid you and made himself more visible around the building. He hung around the mailboxes much longer than was necessary, pretending to be engrossed in a flyer about an upcoming food drive, or a pre-approved credit card offering. Finally, on the third day of Five very graciously making himself known, he saw you on your way to the elevator as he was locking up his door.

You didn’t look over in his direction, which he thought was odd. In a moment of stupidity, Five blinked a few feet down the hallway, hoping you wouldn’t notice, and then walked casually the rest of the way to the elevator. The doors opened just as he arrived and you both walked inside.

You smiled at him. A nice, neighborly, polite smile. You were wearing running shorts and a tank top, which Five tried not to care about.

“Hello,” you said, as if you were greeting the mailman.

“Hey,” Five said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

The elevator started making its way down.

“How have you been?” you asked, much too casually for Five’s liking.

“Fine. And you?”

You shrugged. Indifferent. “Good, thanks. It’s nice to see you again.”

Five nodded. “You too.”

You were silent for a while and then the elevator reached its destination. The doors opened and you walked out with a wave.

“Have a good day, Five!” you chirped, before setting out on your daily jog.

“You, too,” he answered. But you were already putting your earbuds in, so he doubted you heard him. What the hell was that? he thought bitterly.

After that interaction, Five started to have… feelings. He wasn’t sure what these feelings were, exactly, he just knew they were starting to consume him. He was used to being consumed with things. Obsessing over things. But usually those things had to do with the end of the world or impossible, supernatural physics that only he could comprehend. This was not that.

This was something raw and primal; eating him from the inside. And it was pissing him the fuck right off.

Now, instead of avoiding you or not avoiding you, he started to seek you out. He would catch you in the hall and engage in conversation, an act that he would have never stooped to before. You were never mean or catty, which you had every right to be. You didn’t ignore him or try to walk away. You were casual. Breezy. Passive.

Which was a thousand times worse.

“Are you doing ok?” you would ask, with a little head tilt.

She pities me, Five would think and he would cringe inside. “Yeah, doing fine. You know, the same,” he would say.

You would nod, understanding that yeah, things probably were the same.

Sometimes you chatted about the weather. One time you had laughed at something unintentionally funny that he had said and you touched his arm. Briefly, with just the tips of your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, but he had felt every bit of it. He had thought maybe that was a cue. That you were starting to come around again. But then you said a cheerful goodbye and walked away.

On one occasion, when Five was coincidentally strolling past your end of the hall, he was stopped in his tracks. Ahead of him, right outside your apartment door, was a man. He looked to be in his twenties, with sandy blond hair that was combed neatly to the side, and a toned physique. His salmon-colored polo shirt showed off his prominent biceps. You were laughing at something the man had just said. His voice had a deep timber to it.

As Five approached cautiously, assessing the situation, you saw him and waved him over.

“Five, this is Tanner. He just moved in last week.”

Tanner? This guy’s name is Tanner? Give me a fucking break.

“He’s in… what did you say? 524? A floor below,” you continued to explain with a smile on your face.

What’s he doing on this floor then? You lost, Tanner? Can’t read the numbers on the elevator?

Tanner grinned handsomely and stuck out his hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

Five stared at the manicured hand for a beat too long before offering his own. He shook it firmly. Very firmly.

“Five.”

When he didn’t expand on that introduction, there was a moment of awkwardness, before you broke in again.

“So, Tanner and I were just talking about the roof party next week. Are you going?”

“What roof party?” Five asked, slightly harsher than he had intended.

You sighed. “Didn’t you get the tenant newsletter?”

“We have a tenant newsletter?” he asked, genuinely confused.

You giggled and Five liked the sound of it. He grinned. Then stupid Tanner butted in again.

“Well, I know I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Five said in a way that meant anything but great.

You cleared your throat. “You want to come, Five? It might be fun. You know… have some drinks. Maybe talk to some people? Be social for once?”

Five didn’t like the way Tanner was smiling his big stupid grin in his direction, and he didn’t really appreciate your insinuation, either.

Five smiled a wide, dangerous smile. “Sorry. I’m busy that night.”

“I didn’t even tell you what night it was,” you retorted.

“I’m busy every night, turns out,” Five said, eyes narrowing.

You rolled your eyes. “Ok. Well, if you can find the time in your very busy schedule, please join us. It will be nice to have you there.”

If there had been anything in your voice that suggested you actually wanted him there or that you were sad he wasn’t joining you, Five couldn’t detect it. You sounded polite. Indifferent.

Five stared at your lips and he was overcome by the horrible sensation that he just might grab you and kiss you, right there in the hallway, and he couldn't think of anything worse.

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” He looked at Tanner and nodded curtly.

“See you around,” Tanner replied as Five spun on his heel and strode back to his apartment.

See you around, Tanner. Hopefully in a body bag.

Five felt like he was going crazy. Which, let’s face it, he was no stranger to. He kept thinking about you. How you had tried… really tried… to get him to open up. Just a little. You hadn’t even wanted that much, really. Just a little something to prove he was the man you imagined him to be. Instead, he gave you nothing. Except an aching jaw and a marked up neck.

He had been close. When his eyes were closed and he kissed you, and he felt your body soften under his touch. When you had murmured his name against his throat and your fingers massaged the back of his neck. He almost cracked. Almost broke down and admitted to you that he wanted something more. Almost.

After that first time, when Five made you strip in the hallway, just to prove a point, and then you got the best of him, he was shook. At the time, he had thought maybe he would try and loosen up a little. But then the next day dawned, and along with it, all of his hang ups.

The truth was, neither of you knew the other that well. He had no idea what your favorite movie was, or where you grew up. He knew nothing about your family. And you knew nothing about his, except what was in the news. He didn’t even know what your place looked like. You could be the most annoying person on the planet, for all he knew. Although he doubted it.

But the fact that you had wanted to know him, even when he had given you no signs that there was anything in there worth knowing, was what was keeping him awake at night.

No one wanted to know him. Hell, even his own family kept their emotional distance most of the time. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Five closed himself off; he knew that. But somehow you saw through him, which was baffling.

On the night of the building roof party, Five stayed home. He thought about just going out to a bar and hanging out there, but he knew you were up there. You and fucking Tanner.

So, he sat there, listening to the faint thump of the bass through the walls and the distant tinkle of laughter, and stewed.

He imagined that big dumb ape putting his arm around you. Telling you jokes and making you laugh. Getting you another drink from the bar until you were nice and tipsy. Five knew what you were like when you were tipsy, that much he did know about you. It did not help matters.

“Fuck,” Five whispered out loud to no one, hitting his thigh with his fist, as he sat slumped on his couch.

After a couple of his own drinks, Five started to imagine worse things. Like Tanner plowing you against a wall. Or in the elevator. Making you moan. Making you come.

By the time he heard the music stop upstairs and the party winding down, Five was a wreck. The only reason he hadn’t gone charging up there to drag you back downstairs like a caveman was because he knew it was all his doing. It was his fault you were with Tanner. But that didn’t make him any less angry.

He leaned his forehead against his door and listened. He heard the elevator doors open. He heard your voice. And then… he heard Tanner’s deep one mixing with yours.

He couldn’t make out the words, but you were laughing. The voices were fading quickly, which meant you were walking towards your apartment. Together.

Five balled up his fists. His teeth ground together. His nostrils flared.

He held it together for a good five minutes or so, just standing there, fuming, with one hand on the doorknob. Until he snapped.

Stalking down the hallway, his eyes dark with anger, Five arrived outside your door. He took a breath and raised his fist, but came short of knocking. He didn’t want to give Tanner any chance at an exit.

With one blink, he was standing in your living room. Five had never been inside your apartment before. He took a brief look around. The floor plan was identical to his, only with a much more homey appearance, with artwork on the walls and throw pillows on the couch. From the looks of it, you liked the color blue.

There was no one in the living room or the kitchen. Just as the horrible realization that you must have been in the bedroom sunk in, Five saw you. You were coming out of the bathroom with a plush, white robe tied around you. You jumped when you saw him.

“Five!” you screamed. “Jesus, what the fuck are you doing here?”

When he didn’t answer, just stood there staring, you continued.

“How did you even get… fuck, you blinked into my apartment? Are you insane?”

“Probably,” he answered through labored breaths.

You shook your head and pointed at the door. “Please leave.”

“No,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“You know who. Tanner. I know he came home with you.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Five… I don’t know what the hell–”

“Yes. You. Do,” he fumed. “Is he in the bedroom?”

“Wow,” you breathed out angrily. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but no. He’s not here.”

“Bullshit,” he spat out. “I heard him walk you home.”

“Yeah, he did. He walked me home and left. Not an uncommon thing to do for a woman alone at night,” you explained, folding your arms across your chest.

Five blanched. He was trying to figure out if he believed you. He had been so sure. All of those scenarios he had dreamt up in his mind had seemed so plausible.

“He’s really not here?”

“No.”

His entire body started to relax and he unclenched his fists. The muscles in his jaw softened for the first time all night.

“Why do you even care, Five?” you asked him wearily. “You made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I know.”

“You had your chance. Many, actually.”

“I know that, too.”

You sighed. “So, what? You’re jealous now?”

“Jealousy doesn’t begin to cover it.”

You paused. “You didn’t want me, but no one else can have me? Is that it?”

Five stared you down and nodded slowly. “Yep.”

“Fuck you,” you spat out. “I’ve moved on.”

“Why?”

You blinked at his question. “Why? Because you rejected me, Five. You fucked me and then refused to acknowledge any feelings whatsoever.” You smiled ruefully. “And that’s ok. That’s who you are, I get it. But trying to pull anything remotely real out of you is exhausting. It just wasn’t worth the effort anymore.”

Five nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked you in the eyes. “I have issues, I admit it.”

“Well, good. Admittance is the first step. But I’m not going to be your therapist, Five.”

“I don’t want you to be my therapist.”

You threw your hands in the air again. “Then what do you want?! I don’t understand!”

“I want you,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “It’s too late,” you said. But your voice broke a little and your eyes skirted away.

He took a step towards you but you didn’t move. Another step and another, until he was standing so close you could smell the scent of bourbon and faded after-shave. You could see the tiny speckles in his green eyes.

“Is it too late?” he asked.

You nodded, but your breath caught in your throat, giving you away.

“I’m sorry,” he said and for the first time ever, you saw some of that exterior actually crumble away. “I want to try.”

“Why me? There’s plenty of women out there that would be happy to let you try on them.”

He paused. “Because you dared to call me out. You never backed down, even when I was horrible to you. You aren’t afraid of me. That doesn’t happen very often. And if it does, it usually doesn’t end well for the other person.”

“It didn’t end well for me, either.”

Five brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled softly. “Does that mean you’ll give me another shot?”

“What about the age thing? That gap’s not going to change, you know.”

“I’m working on making peace with that.”

He started to lean in but you put a hand on his chest and he stopped. “You have to give me something, Five. Or I can’t believe you.”

He paused and you could tell he was terrified. The silence stretched on until he finally spoke. “Yeah, alright.” He audibly swallowed. “I hate being alone,” he whispered. “I’m used to it, but that’s not the same thing. I hate it.”

Your mouth opened to praise or reassure him, but instead you answered with your own confession. “I’m scared of being invisible. That no one will ever remember me.”

Five nodded his head in understanding, but he didn't try to assuage your fears. Instead, he kissed you. And you let him.

It was the first time he’d ever kissed you without some inner war going on inside himself. He didn’t hold back but he didn't try to possess you either. It was deep and passionate, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his shoulders while he threaded his fingers through your hair.

His taste was familiar and his body was the same, but there was something different. There was more than just a crack in the wall now. An entire brick had been eroded away and you could see inside fully for the first time. You weren’t sure what was there, but it was bright and warm. Like rays of sunshine making their way out from behind a dark cloud. The cloud was still there. But now so was the sun.

Just as you were losing yourself to each other, a sharp rap at your door jolted the two of you apart. You still had your arms around him as you both looked over at the door.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Beats me.”

Five let go of you, marching towards the offender, not bothering to ask you if he could answer your door. You figured there was going to be a lot of those types of moments going forward. Where he was going to take charge without your permission. You smiled to yourself, not exactly minding.

Five unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. There stood Tanner with that playboy grin on his face. In his hand was a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

“Hey, I figured if you were still up, we could continue the party in–”

His invitation was cut short as he realized it was not you he was talking to. Tanner blinked in confusion and then looked around him, as if he may have gotten the wrong apartment.

“Five?”

Five smiled back like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, hey Tanner, good to see you. What can I do for you?”

Tanner blinked again. Then he looked over Five’s shoulder at you and back to Five again. You were frozen, unable to speak. You just stood there, watching it all happen, with wide eyes and a mute mouth.

“Well, I… I wasn’t expecting you here, I guess,” Tanner stammered out, his annoyance starting to show through as he was finally starting to grasp the situation.

“Yeah, just kind of an impromptu visit, I guess you could say. We were just headed to bed, though, otherwise I’d invite you in.”

Tanner opened his mouth again, but Five intervened. He snatched the bottle of wine out of Tanner’s hand.

“Pinot grigio… perfect! Thanks, buddy,” Five snarked. “And thanks for stopping by.”

Then before poor Tanner could defend himself, or retrieve his bottle of wine, Five slammed the door directly in his dumbstruck face. Five flipped the deadbolt extra hard, just to make a point. He turned to face you, holding up the wine.

“Nice guy, that Tanner. He brought a gift.”

You didn’t say anything, but you brought your hand to your mouth in incredulity. Then you burst into laughter.

“Holy shit… Five… you’re terrible!” you chided between giggles.

Five gave a chuckle and he set the bottle on the coffee table. “I thought that had already been established.”

As your laughter started to die down, he sauntered back over to you. “Where were we?” he asked with a smirk.

“I think we were just going to bed,” you answered.

“Ah, yes,” he said, right before grabbing you and blinking you into your bedroom.

You were slammed against the wall as Five began to devour you, pinning your wrists above your head with both hands. You folded immediately, with no resistance.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” he warned as his teeth scraped down your neck.

You moaned out loud and pushed your hips into him. “You know I don’t want gentle.”

A growl rose up from his chest as he sucked a red bruise on your shoulder, adorning it with a ring of his teeth marks.

“Here’s what I can promise,” he breathed out, holding your face firmly by grasping your chin. “If I see that living Ken doll hanging around you again, I’m not going to be so neighborly next time. Understand?”

You nodded with a small smile. “He’s kind of a jerk, anyway. He tried to touch my butt in the elevator.”

“Oh, he’s a dead man,” he hissed out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, Five,” you said. “I only get naked in public for you.”

He let go of your face, but kept your wrists pinned to the wall. One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Let’s keep it that way. Or else a warning will have to be printed in the next tenant newsletter.”

“And what would it say?”

Five pressed himself against you, flattening you against the wall. His lips brushed against yours. “That you’re mine, and everyone else better stay the hell away,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth between your legs.

He kissed you again, in that same way that you had come to crave. His lips crashing against yours like he had limited time. Urgent and desperate.

He stopped again, searching your face. “I’m not fucking around. You wanted me to show myself to you, well this is it. When you are mine, you are mine. I won’t try to control you, but I also won’t share. I can’t help that.”

“I understand,” you said quietly, your chest heaving in anticipation. “And I’m ok with that.”

Five let out a long breath and closed his eyes, like he had finally relieved himself of a heavy burden he had been carrying. When he attacked you again, he didn’t stop. With one hand around your wrists over your head, his other ripped the belt off of your robe. He slipped his hand inside, his palm warm and smooth against your naked waist as he rested it there, just above your hip.

“Good girl, being ready for me,” he praised darkly next to your ear, before biting at your earlobe and shoving his knee between your thighs.

You gasped loudly, but it was cut off as his mouth covered yours again. All you could do was squirm against him as the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you.

“Do you know what you’ve been doing to me these last few weeks?” he asked in between ravenous kisses.

You whimpered as an answer, your head tipping back while he slammed his hips into you.

“I’ve been going insane,” he snarled.

Five let go of your wrists and shoved the robe off your body. You were left naked and exposed, your back flat against the wall, while Five boxed you in. Trapped.

His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding you already soaking wet for him. When he dragged them, slowly… lightly… through your slit, his eyes never left yours. You bit at your lower lip and writhed beneath his touch. When you tried to wrap your arms around his shoulders, he immediately withdrew. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your sides while you moaned pitifully.

“Not yet,” he warned you.

When he dropped to his knees, gazing up at you with a look so devastating you almost cried, he grabbed your hips in his hands. Having him kneeling before you, when it was usually the other way around, had you holding your breath.

He dove between your legs with no hesitation. The warmth of his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit had you reeling and you let your head fall back against the wall with a shaky groan. You felt him smile against you before continuing to consume you, slowly and deliberately; bringing you to the edge before backing off again. He laughed when you bucked your hips into his face, prompting him to push you back against the wall and hold you there.

“Five,” you whined pitifully. “This is torture.”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he said, as if that were perfectly obvious.

When he licked a long, wet stripe over your clit with the flat of his tongue, you thought you were done for. But instead of giving you more, he stood up.

Panting loud and hard, you locked eyes with one another for just a moment, as if making sure you were both thinking the same thing. You must have been, because when you started to hurriedly unbutton Five’s shirt, he didn’t protest. He stiffened a little, you could see that, but he let you undress him. Another first.

When you tugged the sleeves off his arms and threw the shirt on the floor, you ran your hands down his firm chest. He didn’t back away or try to hold you down. He leaned in, bracing himself with a hand on the wall behind you.

He kissed you while his other arm wrapped around your waist and he drew you in with a hard jerk. His large bulge was pushing into your hip as he held you against him. You slid your palm over the straining crotch of his pants and he groaned into your mouth.

Five panted heavily and closed his eyes as you continued to rub your hand firmly over him. “Fuck,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and met yours. “On the bed,” he ordered gruffly.

Obeying, you crawled onto your double bed, leaning against the padded, fabric covered headboard. Your entire body; skin, muscles, blood, bones, had been ignited by Five. You were burning for him and you could hardly sit still.

Five was in no hurry. He took his time. Standing before you, with the most smug, casual smile on his face. He was loving the fact that you were dying for him. As you watched him, he never broke eye contact. When he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, he did it methodically; enjoying your torment.

When he dropped his pants and boxers and stepped out of them, you sucked in a loud breath. You knew what was next. It was your turn to be on your knees. But just as you were about to move, Five shook his head.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “Stay right where you are.”

To your surprise, he climbed on the bed with you, on all fours, until he was hovering over you. He kissed you again, biting at your lips before pulling away. He gave you a crooked smile and looked from your face to the top of the headboard and back again.

“You’re going to need to hold onto something.”

You let out a short, quiet laugh but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. He was waiting for you to complete his instructions. What you really wanted to do was wrap your entire body around him. But he was withholding himself from being touched at the moment. With a smirk, you reached behind you and grabbed onto the top of the headboard.

Five nodded in appreciation before taking your hips and dragging your forcefully towards him as he kneeled on the bed between your legs. You squealed as your body jerked forwards, but you kept your hold on the headboard. He leaned over you, positioning himself at your entrance while he covered your hands with his own. Then, with another cocky smile, he slammed his cock inside you.

You cried out at the same time that he let out a loud groan. Your body was shoved back again, and you lifted your legs so that your thighs were around his hips. He looked down on you, his eyes closing blissfully before opening again. His hair hung in strands over his eyes, with his chest rapidly rising and falling.

While you both braced yourself with the headboard, Five began pounding into you. Each thrust moved your body back and forth, with his dick penetrating you roughly and fully each time. You couldn’t even moan or scream, you could only gasp or bite down on your bottom lip.

Five emitted soft, guttural noises from his throat, his eyes alternating from watching you intently and fluttering shut. His mouth hung open as he panted loudly.

“God, you are worth every second of the torment you have put me through,” Five hissed.

“Five, I didn’t–”

He slammed into you again, cutting your words off by making you whine. “I don’t care.” He was using all of his strength to fuck you as hard as possible. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“Five,” you managed to get out in between gulps of air. “It’s so… oh god… you’re so…“ Your sentence trailed off before you could finish, your brain wasn’t even functioning properly.

He gave one more rough drive into you before stopping, his breath ragged. He smiled, teasingly. “So, what, honey? Tell me.”

You shook your head and licked your lips. Your arms were aching and your pussy stung from being stretched and fucked all to pieces. “So fucking good,” you rasped out. “Keep going.”

Five let out a quiet chuckle before letting go of the headboard, freeing your hands as well. You didn’t move because you weren’t sure what his game plan was. When he lowered himself, pressing his chest to yours and smoothing your hair gently with his hand, he kissed the side of your jaw.

He was still buried fully inside of you, but he switched from hard banging to rocking gently into you. He kissed your neck and cheeks, his dark hair softly grazing your face. You let go of the headboard and slowly moved your arms around him, placing your palms firmly against his back.

He didn’t object or make any comment, so you held him tighter. You brought your legs up around his waist and started to move your body with his. Five lifted his head, locking eyes with you. You tentatively placed a hand on the back of his neck, caressing it with your fingertips as you gazed into his eyes.

“Is this ok?” he asked, a look of genuine concern written on his face.

It wasn’t lost on you that he had never asked for permission before pounding violently into you every time. The intimacy was what made him ask for consent. You nodded with a small smile and he returned it with his own.

When he kissed you, it was the same passionate, desperate way he always kissed you, but his body wasn’t rigid and tense like he was in fight or flight mode. He relaxed into you. The muscles in his shoulders and back began to soften. He felt pliable, almost liquid, compared to how you had known him before.

His rhythm had slowed, but he was still fucking you raw and deeply; pushing his entire cock inside of you before pulling back and easing it in again. Each drag through your tight core had you on the edge again.

You broke away from his kisses, pressing your fingers into his shoulders and brushing your cheek against his.

“You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be, Five,” you whispered. “I’m here.”

He gave a small moan and pressed his face into the side of your neck. You felt him nod.

“You are not invisible,” he told you, his lips gliding over your skin. “And I sure as hell remember everything about you.” His forehead came to rest on yours, his eyes closing with a sigh.

You came simultaneously, with both of you clinging to the other while you cried out his name and he cursed in growls and hisses close to your ear. He was shaking and trembling in your arms, the muscles that had just been softening under your touch seizing up again and spasming against you.

When you loosened your legs from around his waist and Five pulled out, he was breathing hard and fast. He gave you another kiss before collapsing next to you. After another minute of trying to catch your breath, you realized he had not said anything or looked you in the eye again. He was still there, his body touching you, but you could feel him changing again. Not like before, when it was immediate regret and self-loathing. More like confusion. He was paralyzed with uncertainty.

Five didn’t protest, though, when you took his hand and pulled his arm over your side and around to your front, your back flush with his chest. You threaded your fingers through his as he molded his body to yours. You were both damp and sticky with sweat and cum, but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, you felt Five press his face into your hair.

“I don’t know how to do this part,” he said softly with a small laugh.

“That’s ok,” you answered, bringing his hand up and kissing his knuckles. “I do.”

There was a pause and he shifted a bit behind you.

“So… what? We just lie here like this?”

You giggled. “Yeah, that’s the idea. Why? You got somewhere else to be?”

Five snorted. “No.”

“I promise I won’t keep you hostage. Just… relax for a minute.”

Your thumb rubbed back and forth across the back of his hand. After a minute, he kissed your shoulder. “This is kind of nice.”

“See?”

Another few minutes went by without either of you speaking. Five inhaled the scent of your hair and you traced your fingers over his arms. When you felt his breathing become slower and deeper behind you, you whispered to him.

“Are you falling asleep back there?”

“Hmm? No,” he slurred.

You smiled and loosened your grip on his hand, inching away. His arm dragged reluctantly off of you. He started to sit up, but you patted his shoulder.

“No, stay. Just hang on a second.”

Five looked hesitant, but he let you pull back the covers on the bed and he moved over so he could make room for you. Then you turned out the light on the nightstand and curled up against him. This time, he pulled you in with no prompting, wrapping his arms around you while you laid your head on his chest. You let out a long, contented sigh and he kissed your temple.

“Is this going to be weird in the morning?” he asked sincerely.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I don’t think so, though.”

Five was thoughtful for a second and then he raised your face up with a hand on your chin and kissed you softly. He traced his fingers lightly down your cheek. “You really must have made me crazy, because I don’t think it will be either.”

You kissed him again before snuggling deeper into his arms while he stroked your hair. Five laid there, listening to the sound of your breathing and felt himself starting to drift off again. Before he fell asleep, he thought about everything he wanted to know about you. In the morning he would start with breakfast foods. Did you like pancakes or eggs? Coffee or tea? Once he knew, he would make them for you. That seemed like a good start.

Then you two would go from there.

So when you got offered a partnership in LA, three days, full expenses paid, a glossy photoshoot, a press dinner, a seat at the table you never thought you’d be invited to—he told you to go.

You had kissed him in the hallway before your car came, hands around his neck, murmuring, “You’ll miss me like crazy.”

He’d answered without looking at you, his nose buried in your neck, “Already do.”

You didn’t know that would be the last thing you’d hear from him.

You come home to silence.

At first, it doesn’t register.

Your suitcase wheels thud against the tile. You call out—twice—your voice echoing through the big, still house.

“Marshall?”

The dogs are gone. So is his truck.

At first you think—errand? studio?

But then you reach for your phone. Open your texts. The most recent ones are still there. A sleepy goodnight from two days ago. Your photo from the shoot that he responded to with a flame emoji. But the bubble you type into doesn’t turn blue.

And your call goes straight to voicemail.

You frown, confused. Hit it again. Straight to voicemail.

You try FaceTime. Blocked.

You sit down at the edge of the bed like someone knocked the air out of you.

Something’s wrong.

Your heart knows it before your head catches up.

You open Instagram, then Twitter. Then you see it.

A blurry paparazzi shot. A woman with your hair. Your body type. Your outfit, even—nearly identical to the dress you wore to the brand dinner. And a man you don’t know. His arm around her waist. A kiss.

EMINEM’S WIFE SPOTTED KISSING MYSTERY MAN IN L.A.

Your stomach flips. You zoom in. The lighting is low. The resolution grainy. But it’s not you. It’s not you.

It doesn’t matter.

You feel the blood drain from your face.

You fumble with your phone and call the only person who might know where he is.

Paul answers on the second ring.

“Hey—” you start, your voice cracking, “Paul, I—I don’t know what’s going on. I just got home and he’s not here and he’s not answering me and—”

Paul sighs. And it’s a heavy, Goddammit, Marshall kind of sigh.

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. But he’s pissed.”

Your throat closes. “He thinks that’s me—? Paul, I didn’t do anything, that’s not—”

“I know it’s not you.”

You shut your eyes. “Then why—”

“Because he saw it before he heard anything else. Before anyone could explain. Because some asshole sent it to him and he was already halfway out the door before I could call him back.”

You press your palm to your mouth.

Paul continues, steady but not unkind. “He’ll come home when he realizes he’s being stupid. I’m working on it.”

Your voice comes out small. “He blocked me.”

“I know. He’s not thinking straight. Give him space, alright?”

“He left,” you whisper. “Over a photo. Over something that’s not even real.”

“He’s scared,” Paul says quietly. “He’s not mad at you, not really. He’s scared.”

That’s somehow worse. You nod, even though he can’t see it. You hang up soon after, because you can’t keep your voice from shaking.

You sit alone in the bedroom you built together, still half-dressed from your flight. And when you look in the mirror—you realize how close the resemblance really is.

You look like her.

---

You’re still in the closet, sitting on the carpeted floor where you’d slid down an hour ago, your back against his dresser. One of his hoodies is balled up in your lap. It still smells like him.

You haven’t moved.

You can’t move.

Your phone buzzes again—persistent now—and you see the name flash across the screen.

Hailie 💛

Your stomach drops.

You swipe to answer and try to sound normal.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” she says instantly, and there’s confusion in her voice, worry creeping just behind it, “what’s going on?”

You sit up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

“I just talked to Dad,” she says. “Or tried to. He’s at a hotel downtown. He wouldn’t say why, just said he needed space for a few days. What—did you guys fight? What happened?”

You can feel your voice trying to shake again, so you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale. “No. I mean—yes. Kind of. But not really.”

“Okay, well… now I’m freaking out,” she says. “Is it something with the girls? With Stevie?”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “Everyone’s fine. It’s just—it’s a stupid misunderstanding. A bad one. A really… public one.”

You pause, then sigh. “You didn’t see the headlines yet?”

“I saw something dumb on Twitter but I thought it was fake. That woman wasn’t even you, was it? Like, obviously not, right?”

You can hear her frown through the phone.

“Right,” you say, your voice hollow. “It wasn’t. But your dad saw it, and… he blocked me before I could explain.”

“Oh my god.” She’s quiet for a beat. “Seriously? Dad thinks you’d cheat on him over a press dinner in L.A.?”

“No,” you say softly. “I don’t think he really thinks that. But he saw it before he could ask me. And then it was everywhere. I guess somebody forwarded it to him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hailie mutters, then after a pause, “Do you want me to go over there? Talk to him?”

“No,” you say, too fast, too desperate. “No, please. Don’t make him feel cornered. Paul’s already trying to talk him down.”

She’s quiet for a long second.

Then, “He’s gonna feel so dumb when he realizes. I mean—Mom, this is you. You’ve been with him since you were what, nine? Ten? You literally built him into a human. He’s just being… Dad. Dramatic, moody, stubborn.”

You laugh, but it’s thin. Fractured.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie. “I just—thank you for calling.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not picking sides or anything, but… I know he’s wrong this time. He’s gonna figure it out.”

You don’t trust your voice enough to respond, so you just hum softly.

“And hey?” she says before hanging up. “Try to get some sleep. He’ll come back. He always comes back to you.”

The line goes dead.

You stare at the floor.

He’s always come back before.

But this time, it’s not just a fight.

This time, it’s the whole world watching, waiting to see if the woman in the photo is you.

If you are what broke Eminem.

---

It’s been nineteen days.

Nineteen days of pretending everything is fine.

Nineteen days of smiling through it for the brands, for the comments, for the girls who don’t need to worry that their father still hasn’t come home. That he saw a lie and believed it before he believed you.

Paul calls every few days. Always the same updates.

“He’s still pissed.”

“He’s not talking to anyone except me and Hailie.”

“Yes, I told him it wasn’t you.”

“Yes, he knows now.”

“No, he hasn’t unblocked you.”

The worst part isn’t even the silence. It’s how well you’ve managed to hide it.

You still post your content. Still go to the gym. Still film your nighttime routine and tag the serums and the silk pillowcase brands. Still smile when people ask in the comments, Where’s your husband? like you didn’t wake up alone again that morning, heart aching like a fresh bruise.

You keep it light. Keep it together.

Until one afternoon, sitting in your car after Pilates, a thought creeps in and sticks.

You open Instagram.

Click his name.

Still not blocked.

Your breath catches.

He’s watching.

He didn’t block you there.

And that changes everything.

The next morning, you post a mirror selfie at the gym. Hair up, makeup subtle but exactly how he likes it. The caption is just a single drop of sweat emoji.

Twelve hours later, your DMs are full, but not from him.

So you keep going.

The next night: a calm, softly lit routine video—your face clean, skin glowing, bare legs curled under you on the edge of the bed as you tie your hair up in a clip. The camera catches the oversized black tee that hits your thighs.

His shirt. One of the ones he thought you “looked too good in to be wearing around other people.”

No caption.

But the comments eat it up.

You post again two days later. Golden hour. A simple, flowy sundress—the one he always said made you look like summer and sin.

The hem hits high on your thighs. You angle the shot just so, a breeze catching the fabric, your smile sly.

The caption reads: “Might keep this on tonight. Might not.”

You lose five followers. Gain almost a thousand.

No message from him.

But late that night, your story shows “Seen by marshallmathers.”

Your stomach drops.

He’s watching.

Good.

Let him.

Let him see what he gave up. What’s still waiting here, soft and wanting, even though you’re angry. Even though you’re hurting.

It’s almost 2:00 AM when you hear the door.

You sit up so fast you nearly knock your water glass off the nightstand.

Keys. A familiar, halting step. Hesitation. Like he’s afraid of what he’ll find on the other side of this.

You don’t say a word.

Don’t breathe.

The bedroom door opens.

And there he is.

Marshall.

Rough around the edges. Hoodie pulled up, baseball cap low. Eyes bloodshot. A duffel still slung over one shoulder like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him stay.

He looks at you like he’s not sure if he’s dreaming. Or if you’ll throw him out.

Your voice is small.

“You forgot I still have your location?”

His mouth twitches—guilt or maybe a ghost of a smile.

“I never blocked you there,” he murmurs. “Didn’t block you on Instagram either.”

“No,” you say, standing slowly. “You just blocked me everywhere else.”

He winces.

You step toward him. Stop a few feet away.

“You saw a picture of someone who looked like me. And you left.”

“I know,” he rasps, voice thick. “I fucked up.”

You’re trying to stay strong, trying not to cry. But he looks wrecked. Like the time away hurt him as much as it hurt you.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” you whisper.

“I didn’t know how,” he breathes. “It hit me all at once and I just—I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. I saw that guy’s hands on her and all I could picture was—was—”

He breaks off.

You take another step. You’re close enough now to see the scruff on his jaw, the way his eyes are shining.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

“I missed you,” he says fiercely. “Missed you so much it made me stupid.”

He drops the bag and pulls you in like it’s the only thing holding him upright.

And finally, after almost three weeks of cold sheets and lonely nights, of pretending and performing and aching in silence—you’re home again.

In his arms.

Where you never should’ve had to leave.

You don’t make it to the bed.

You barely make it three steps backward before his mouth is on yours—starving, reckless, like he’s trying to erase every single day he spent without you. Like kissing you is the only way he knows how to beg for forgiveness.

You gasp into it, your fingers already in his hoodie, dragging it off, not gentle. Not soft.

You’re not interested in soft tonight.

He grunts low in his throat when your nails rake down his chest and you hear it in the way his breath shudders—he’s been waiting for this.

For you.

“I saw everything,” he growls against your mouth, one hand buried in your hair now, the other already cupping your ass like he’s claiming it again. “Every fuckin’ post. Every little tease.”

You smirk, breathless. “Good.”

He laughs—dark and dangerous—and in the next breath, he spins you around, shoving you up against the bedroom wall hard enough that it rattles.

“You mad at me, baby?” he asks, mouth brushing your ear, his voice low and gritty.

“I should be,” you say, but your thighs are already pressing together.

“You are,” he says, nipping at your jaw, “but you still want me so bad you wore my shirt to bed and posted it for millions to see. That sundress? You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing.”

You don’t deny it.

His hand slips under the hem of your sleep shirt—his shirt—and when he finds nothing underneath, he growls so deep you feel it in your chest.

“No fuckin’ panties?” His mouth curls into a snarl. “You been sleeping like this without me here?”

You moan when his fingers drag up your inner thigh. “Wasn’t sleeping.”

He curses.

His palm flattens to your belly, holding you there while he pushes the shirt up, exposing you to the cool air, to him. You whimper, legs shaking, and that’s all it takes—he turns you again and lifts you clean off the floor, wrapping your legs around his waist like they belong there.

And they do.

He walks you to the edge of the bed, not bothering to undress fully. Your shirt’s off in seconds, tossed somewhere. His sweats are shoved down just enough.

The moment your skin touches his, your mouth finds his neck.

“I missed you,” you murmur against his throat.

He groans, fists the sheets beside your hips.

“I haven’t touched anyone else,” you say, needy and angry and desperate to be forgiven. “Even when you left—I didn’t—”

His hips snap forward and he’s inside you in one rough, punishing thrust.

“Don’t say that,” he snarls, biting down against your shoulder, his voice half-gone. “Don’t you ever think I thought you did.”

“You did,” you gasp, nails clawing at his back. “You left.”

“I know,” he pants, forehead dropping to yours. “I know, baby. I fucked up so bad—”

You drag him in with your legs, your body already shaking around him.

“Then make it up to me,” you whisper. “Claim me.”

Something breaks in him.

His grip on your hips tightens. He thrusts into you harder, deeper, a filthy rhythm that has the headboard slamming, the mattress creaking under you.

“You’re mine,” he hisses, every word a thrust. “Say it.”

“I’m yours—”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours.”

He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs, his fingers sliding between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing rough and tight until you’re writhing under him, crying out his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.

He doesn’t stop.

Not after the first orgasm. Not after the second.

He takes everything you offer him—your forgiveness, your body, your anger, your love—and gives it back threefold, raw and aching and real.

By the time you’re both limp and boneless in the tangle of ruined sheets, the silence is different.

It’s not cold.

It’s not distant.

It’s heavy with everything he couldn’t say before.

You feel his fingers brushing hair from your face.

You hear him whisper, “I don’t care how dumb I look—I saw that photo and thought I lost you, and it killed me.”

You press your forehead to his chest, lips brushing his skin.

“I wore that sundress for you,” you say, quietly. “I wore your shirt because I missed you more than I was mad.”

“I’ll never leave again,” he promises. “I don’t care what it looks like. I’ll ask next time. I’ll fucking listen.”

You hum against his chest. “Damn right you will.”

His hand slides back down to your hip.

“Also,” he murmurs, mouth curling, “that sundress still isn’t safe.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says, already pulling you back beneath him. “You just reminded me why I like it best on the floor.”

---

He’s still inside you.

Still thick and hard and pulsing against your walls, both of you drenched in sweat, your bodies trembling with the aftershock of it all.

You feel him start to shift, like he’s about to pull out, and your body reacts before your mind can catch up—your legs lock around his waist tight, thighs clamping down, holding him right there.

His breath catches in his throat.

He freezes above you.

“No,” you whisper.

His eyes darken. “Baby…”

“No,” you repeat, firmer now, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t move. Don’t pull away.”

He stares down at you, searching your face.

You can see it in his expression—that look of a man who thought he lost everything and still doesn’t believe it’s real that you’re here, letting him touch you like this again. Letting him have you like this again.

You tug him closer by the hips, forcing him to stay deep inside, your lips brushing his ear.

“I don’t want space,” you whisper. “I want you. Still. Again. Until I forget how it felt not to have you.”

He groans—low, wounded—and drops his forehead to yours, his hands gripping the mattress tight like he’s holding himself back.

“I’m trying,” he says, breath shaking. “I’m trying to slow down, baby. I hurt you. I fucked everything up and I need to make it right.”

Your lips part.

Your voice softens but doesn’t lose its edge. “Then do. Don’t stop until you fix it.”

That breaks whatever restraint he had left.

His hand slides under your thigh and lifts it higher, folding you deeper against him as he starts to move again—slow at first, long strokes that grind his hips against yours, every thrust a promise, a penance, a plea.

You moan, eyes fluttering, and he watches you like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s making sure you feel it.

“You want me to fix it?” he rasps, kissing you hard. “Want me to fuck the memory of all that bullshit outta your head?”

You nod, lips swollen, fingers tight in his hair.

“I’ll do it,” he growls. “I’ll fuckin’ bury it. I’ll make sure you only remember this.”

His rhythm picks up. Your breath stutters.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice thick. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours. I never stopped being yours.”

His thrusts turn savage. Controlled, but bruising. Like he’s engraving it into you. Like every second he spent away from you is something he has to erase with his body.

You lose track of how long it lasts.

How many times you come.

How many times he shudders against you, forehead pressed to your neck, panting your name like a prayer he doesn’t deserve to say.

All you know is your body gives out before your heart does.

And still—you keep him close.

Even when he tries to roll off to give you space, you clutch at him again, dragging him with you, wrapping your arms and legs around him like you’ll never let him go again.

And this time?

He doesn’t fight it.

He just sinks into you, chest to chest, still joined, still inside you.

Silent. Breathing hard.

Only one word spoken in the dark between your tangled limbs:

Running away wasn’t an option, you had long given up on running away the moment he captured you. He kept you in the mirror prison that only he and his sister Brûlée could access in a small house he created in way he thought you would enjoy. He kept telling you it was for safety…for your safety that he wouldn’t let you leave the mirror world. His family would hurt you, which was something he told you

You weren’t sure if what he said was true when usually he spoke so highly of his family when he visited.  Your conversation with him was usually silent, offering you special treats he brought you while silently stroking your head. You felt like his pet, a pet that couldn’t escape from him.

“My good little pet,” he told you, “We will start our own family soon,” he often would talk about starting a family with you. He wanted a huge family just like his own. You shivered at thought but stayed silent your head on his lap while he munched on the many snacks he brought you.  You would be his good little pet forever after.

⛓️Loki ⛓️

Word Count: 163

You watched horrified, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t, any sound you made would catch the giant’s attention. His tongue stuck out and he grinned wickedly as the fire was consuming your country. You could hear the screams of your people, your friends your family as the fire was growing larger, you stared at the monstruous giant who grinned at you his tongue still out.

“Mine,” were his only words. You could feel his eyes staring down at you, piercing your soul even if his helmet hid his eyes. “Mine,” he repeated.

You had made the foolish mistake of smiling at the giant bringing him to your island, showing him such kindness but rejecting his love. You were just being nice, and he fell in love, plucking a lone flower from the hill he brought you too. The same hill you had rejected him just this morning.

“Will you be mine?” he questioned again and this time you couldn’t refuse. You nodded solemnly.  You will be his.

👑 King👑

Word Count: 195

He kept you locked up, treated you more like an animal but he would “reward” you with special kisses when you obeyed him. And only every once in a while, would you be allowed to walk with him outside your cage.

You would stand there while he got your “ready” as he once described it with a satisfied smirk. His white hair failing over his face before giving you a simple kiss on your lips. He put the collar on you, tugging on it pushing you closer to him.  His eyes staring at you waiting for what you would say.

You knew better to say anything without his permission you couldn’t move till he gave you permission. If did anything that would displease him, he would lock you back in the cage. You couldn’t get away; you were trapped forever to be his plaything. You had long given up on running away and he smirked knowing he had broken you.

_____________

Harry met you on a Thursday afternoon in the library.

He was losing a silent war with a Charms essay, rubbing his scar out of habit rather than pain, when a small paper crane sailed across the aisle and landed squarely on his parchment. He unfolded it.

Flitwick wants specific examples from Rhadagast's commentary, not general theory. Third shelf from the left, blue spine.

He looked up. You were already reading again, tucked into the corner window seat like you'd always been there, a neat stack of books beside you and a constellation of Post-it notes marking each one. You glanced up, caught his stare, and gave him the most ordinary, friendly smile he'd received in recent memory — no awe, no wariness, no complicated history behind it.

He retrieved the book. The essay practically wrote itself.

He wanted to thank you. By the time he worked up the nerve to cross the library, you'd already gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint trace of cedar and a chair slightly too warm to have been empty long.

_____________

Ron had a more complicated introduction.

He'd been arguing with himself about the last treacle tart on the dessert platter — the unspoken rule being that the one who noticed it first had dibs, but he'd been distracted by a Quidditch debate and missed his window — when a plate appeared at his elbow.

He stared at it.

"You were looking at it the same way I look at a particularly good chess problem," you said pleasantly, settling back into your seat across the table. Slytherin table, he registered belatedly. You'd leaned all the way across to deposit a treacle tart at the Gryffindor table and were now looking at him like this was perfectly normal behavior. "I already had one. Seemed a waste to let it sit."

Ron blinked. "You — thanks?"

"Don't mention it." You smiled and returned to your conversation with a girl beside you, as though you hadn't just casually defied about four unspoken inter-house social codes without blinking.

He looked down at the tart. Then at you. Then at the tart again.

He mentioned it to Harry and Hermione within the hour.

_____________

They started noticing you everywhere after that, the way you only notice something once it's been pointed out and then you can't stop.

You holding the door for the portrait of a weeping woman and murmuring something that made her laugh. You returning a Hufflepuff's lost Transfiguration notes with color-coded tabs. You walking with a pack of first-years who'd gotten turned around on the moving staircases, cheerfully narrating the castle's bad habits like a tour guide who genuinely loved the material.

"She's in Slytherin," Ron said one evening, as if he kept needing to verify this out loud.

"We know, Ron," Hermione said.

"I'm just saying."

"You've been saying. For a week."

"Because it's strange!"

Hermione set her quill down with the particular precision that meant she was about to make a point. "Kindness in a Slytherin isn't strange. It's just less performed. They don't have the same incentive to be visibly good that we sometimes do."

Ron opened his mouth.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

He closed it.

_____________

The proper introduction happened in Hogsmeade, during the first October visit, when you rounded a corner and walked directly into Harry — scattering his bag, his scarf, and three weeks' worth of bottled self-recrimination about a comment Professor Snape had made.

"Oh — I'm so sorry, here —"

You were already gathering his things before he'd finished processing what had happened, efficient and apologetic, handing back his bag and his scarf and — pausing with his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which had fallen open to a dog-eared page.

"This is a first edition," you said, not accusatory, just genuinely impressed. You turned it over in your hands with the careful reverence of someone who understood what books were worth.

"Yeah." Harry took it back, watching you. "My — a friend gave it to me."

Your expression shifted, briefly, into something quieter. "It's been loved," you said. "You can tell. The really good ones always have that. All soft at the spines."

Harry thought about Hagrid, enormous and gentle, pressing it into his hands at a birthday he hadn't expected anyone to remember. He thought about how he still carried it even though he'd read it so many times the words had worn smooth.

"Yeah," he said again, softer this time.

You smiled at him — that same uncomplicated smile from the library — and introduced yourself. Just your name. No house performance, no positioning, no careful calculation of whether Harry Potter was worth talking to.

He told Hermione and Ron about it that evening.

"I like her," Hermione said simply.

"Me too," said Harry.

Ron ate another treacle tart and said nothing, which in Ron Weasley's vocabulary meant agreed.

_____________

Friendship with you turned out to be quiet and easy in a way none of them had quite anticipated. You didn't make a project of them. You didn't treat Harry like a symbol or Hermione like competition or Ron like a sidekick.

You brought Harry books you thought he might like, left without fanfare, never asked for anything in return. You debated magical theory with Hermione with a focus and rigor she found genuinely satisfying, and you lost gracefully and won without crowing. You and Ron discovered a shared, passionate, deeply sincere appreciation for Quidditch statistics, and your arguments about the Chudley Cannons became a fixture of the Thursday lunch table.

Your Slytherin friends found the whole arrangement faintly baffling. The golden trio found it quietly wonderful.

The castle, if it had feelings about such things, probably approved.

You were, Harry thought one afternoon, watching you help a second-year with a Wingardium Leviosa that refused to cooperate — patient, steady, pleased when the feather finally rose — simply good. Not performing goodness for an audience. Not calculating the return on it.

Just good, the way some people were, green tie and all.

⤷ ゛size ˎˊ˗

above average

𑣲 9-inch (~23 cm) length 𑣲 5-inch (~13 cm) girth 𑣲 has that actual "mushroom" tip people describe - perfect for rubbing against the G-spot and/or cervix; meaning you can feel it 𑣲 does not think it's big - he's 6'1" (186 cm), not much is "big" to him 𑣲 you know it is though - it scared you the first time you saw it; "you have to warn people before pulling that thing out"

⤷ ゛positions ˎˊ˗

depends on his mood

𑣲 his utmost favorite is cowgirl - reverse is nice too, but he wants to see your face and his dick when its inside you 𑣲 likes to spread you open to hit as deep as possible when you sit all the way down - he likes seeing your eyes roll 𑣲 doggy - gives him better control for long, hard strokes that make you scream into pillows 𑣲 spreading you open 𑣲 he's older, so missionary is for making love~ - and letting you leave scratches down his back

⤷ ゛privacy ˎˊ˗

𑣲 everything needs to be locked - even the windows 𑣲 absolutely no one else can be around - he isn't a shy performer, he just wants to be alone 𑣲 you talked him into doing it in the agency office - he was mortified when you walked out and people were there 𑣲 bedroom preferred - it's sacred to him since it's your shared space 𑣲 living room second best - he got quite the comfortable couch that fits you both, no matter the position where you sit

⤷ ゛hands ˎˊ˗

sensual and gentle

𑣲 runs them up and down your torso and back - before, during, and after 𑣲 palms on your inner thighs 𑣲 thumbs caressing your skin 𑣲 likes to grab and grip big handfuls of ass - especially when you ride him 𑣲 massages your chest and plays with your nipples 𑣲 likes slipping his fingers in your mouth - loves it even more when you suck on them with intense enthusiasm 𑣲 holds your neck - not into choking, just holding it 𑣲 pressing down on your stomach to feel his cock 𑣲 loves to grab, hold, and/or pull your hair - if it's long, he'll wrap it around to his hand to grip 𑣲 spreading you open.

⤷ ゛"daddy" ˎˊ˗

you did this - it's your fault

𑣲 it slipped out by accident when he was absolutely wrecking you one night - "yes, daddy, please!" 𑣲 he stopped - he didn't say anything, just watched you hide in the pillow; then shrugged and went back to it 𑣲 you kept testing it, getting more or less the same reaction - his eyes would always be a little bigger than normal and just stare at you 𑣲 it was just a joke to you at that point - until you went up behind him to wrap your arms around him while he was cooking and whispered "hi, daddy" 𑣲 his brain is entirely rewired because of you - he is calling himself daddy now

⤷ ゛aftercare ˎˊ˗

𑣲 holds you close and tight - tangles his legs with yours 𑣲 keeps you warm - uses his body heat and a fluffy blanket 𑣲 lets you be clingy 𑣲 showers you with kisses - lots of forehead and cheek kisses~ 𑣲 makes sure you're okay - gives you massages to help relax your muscles 𑣲 keeps water on the bedside table - will immediately get you anything else you ask for 𑣲 runs the bath or shower for you, whichever you want - will help you bathe, dry off, and get dressed 𑣲 carries you back to bed or to the couch to cuddle you more

⤷ ゛bonus ˎˊ˗

𑣲 he isn't much of a "talker" - even his moans are quiet 𑣲 pool sex > shower sex 𑣲 likes your hands and fingers in his hair - wears it down so you can 𑣲 prefers taking his time - he doesn't understand the meaning of a "quickie" 𑣲 not necessarily into overly "kinky" stuff - kind of basic but in the best ways 𑣲 does love coming on your face - especially if your tongue's sticking out waiting for him 𑣲 an enjoyer of anal - will call you his "pretty anal slut" 𑣲 sometimes you can't keep up with his endurance - under that kimono is an incredibly fit and toned body 𑣲 loves giving kisses 𑣲 a "head pusher" - your mouth just feels so good wrapped around him, what do you expect him to do? 𑣲 eye contact

⤷ ゛common phrases ˎˊ˗

if he does decide to speak

𑣲 "that's it, look at you taking it so well. i bet you want it deeper." 𑣲 "you're so cute waiting for me to come all over you." 𑣲 "i know, let daddy take care of you." - this is in and out of the bedroom 𑣲 "best mouth i've ever had." - even if he is only using his fingers 𑣲 "hey, eyes on me. good, watch only me."

overall, he's a gentle and attentive lover who also happens to enjoy rearranging your guts until you're a dumb puddle underneath him.

daddy fukuzawa is a thing to me i'm not sorry.

- ghxst

mini fic masterlist

The chopping stopped.

You could hear everyone holding their breaths, waiting for whatever lived here to open the door.

Muffled, heavy steps sounded from beyond the door, making the floorboards groan. Then after a moment of nerve wrecking silence, the door creaked open.

Your heart dropped.

Before you stood an ogre. Large, hairy, clad in nothing but a set of rough pants and a leather apron splattered with blood. Blood dripped from the gleaming cleaver in its big hand, slowly forming a dark crimson puddle.

Fuck.

You clenched your hand around the handle of your sword.

Your first instinct was to fight. The moment it showed hostility, you would attack the monster and kill it, even if it cost you your life. You and your team were in desperate need to a roof over your heads, so there was not much choice.

With a cold gaze, the ogre scanned you. Then it opened its mouth, a slow, rumbly voice pronouncing human words in a clearly unfamiliar manner, “Need something?"

One of your team members timidly stepped forwards, “We, we need a room..."

There was a long silence.

“One room?"

The team member sweated, “Well, two rooms would also be great, but we don’t want to impose our presence on you. If you don’t feel like it we can just leave right now and sleep under the trees, just let us stay nearby for a night or two and then we’ll be gone—"

“Exchange,” the ogre stated.

“Huh??"

It almost seemed like it sighed before slowly repeating, “Equal exchange. You, stay, I, get."

“You, you want us to give something for us to stay here?"

“That.” It nodded.

“Then what do you want in exchange? We can offer, can offer some silver? Or, or we give you some other supplies like clothes, or maybe you’d prefer for us to help with physical labor? Or, or..."

The ogre remained silent, so long that the team grew desperate.

“Please, name your price! We’ll give you whatever you want!"

It tilted its head. “Whatever, I, want?"

“Yes, yes, anything!"

“Anything?"

“Yes, really, anything!!"

It nodded and glanced over your team. A shiver ran down your spine as its eyes settled on you. “Her."

“What?! No! She’s not a thing!!” someone cried out.

“Shh, calm down!"

“We have no choice..."

“Do you want the team leader to die?!"

“But—!"

You frowned, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. “Alright. Let’s exchange."

Your team fell silent. It was your decision to sacrifice yourself for them. They had to honor this, or else they would be trampling your good intentions.

“Sure?” The ogre asked you.

“Sure."

With that, your team was allowed to enter the house and settle in the untouched upstairs. You, however, had to stay downstairs with the ogre.

For the living space of an ogre, you found the house surprisingly clean. Apart from the heavy scent of blood coming from the shop front where it worked, and some furniture looked very used, it was really just a normal house.

“Come,” the ogre grunted.

Following it, you found that the house had an incredibly clean kitchen. From the tools and some exposed ingredients and herbs, you could tell it was only used for cooking, not preparing meat, bones or offal for the butcher shop. It was just that the knives were all in extremely good states. Additionally, from the window above the counter, you could see a well-tended garden behind the house.

Was this... really the home of an ogre?

While you were still in doubt, the ogre told you to cook and shuffled off to continue chopping meat.

You watched it leave with big eyes and scratched your head.

This situation was too... strange.

But it was useless to think too much. You washed your hands, took some ingredients, and started cooking. With the available tools, it was easy to whip up some home-cooked dishes of adequate taste. Anyway, no one would fault the only team member who was still fully mobile and mostly unharmed for failing to cook a gourmet lunch.

The next few days passed in a strangely calm manner. You were responsible for cooking for everyone, your team mates just had to rest and nurse their injuries, and the ogre kept chopping meat.

Then came the day when your team wanted to leave. They wanted to take you with them, but the ogre refused.

“She, mine."

Your team leader frowned fiercely.

“Human, keep, promise, else..."

The team members gritted their teeth, clearly ready to fight. Thankfully your team leader held them back. He exchanged a glance with you, saw you give a reassuring smile, and could only accept that they’d traded you for a safe stay.

They left, and you stayed.

The ogre turned to you. “Human, keep, promise."

You looked at it, looked into its eyes for the first time. They were a bright, clear gold, glittering in the sunshine. Quite beautiful for a monster. “I know. I will keep my promise."

After your team left, the ogre allowed you to go into the garden. At first, you didn’t understand, but when you saw the herbs, vegetables and fruits that grew there, you realized that it wanted to eat better.

...Well, even ogres have standards.

In the following days, apart from cooking, you gradually started taking care of the house. The rooms needed cleaning and airing out, the garden had to be tended to, and when you asked the ogre if you could use the discarded bones as fertilizer you meant to see it smile. It looked weird on its big face, yet also strangely endearing.

Afterwards, as you grew more skilled at your tasks, you found yourself bored in your free time.

When the ogre noticed this, it simply dragged you to help in the shop. It seemed to think your small arms were too weak to help chop meat and bones, so it just asked you to sell and count money.

Only then did you realize that not only did the shop open at unusual times, the ogre also got scammed a lot. The various monsters buying from it kept trying to pay less for excellent quality meat, bones and offal, and some even tried to directly eat the meat from the counter or hook. At those times, if you didn’t manage to beat them with logic, you’d just pull your sword out of its scabbard, letting the magical blade hum threateningly.

In the beginning, this was simply because the ogre having money also improved your quality of life.

Then later, it was because you discovered that what the ogre sold was in no way ordinary. All the meat, bones and offal, and even skins and horns and whatever else it sold, stemmed from magical beasts ranging from dragons and chimeras to kraken, griffins and even phoenixes and unicorns. Essentially, as long as someone delivered a hunted creature, the ogre would butcher it. And now you were there to ensure a fair price.

Gradually, you found yourself enjoying this leisurely life with the ogre.

You didn’t go out a lot, just once a week to go to the nearby monster village to buy milk, cheese, and some other stuff. Every now and then, the ogre would also buy you little things, the kind that had drawn your eye on the market but were deemed unnecessary by you.

And one day, it brought you out on a walk. It was really just a walk in the garden, brushing along the edge of the forest, and by the end of it, the ogre had gathered a bouquet of wildflowers.

“For you,” the ogre said as it, no, he handed you the bouquet, the human language flowing from his mouth more smoothly than at the start of your acquaintance.

You looked at him. Tall, large, strong and hairy, the ogre was by all means a terrifying, man-eating monster, but... Your heart softened. He looked so cute as he shyly waited, clear golden eyes repeatedly glancing over in anticipation. With a gentle smile, you took the flowers, “Thank you."

He grinned.

Bathed in the bright sunshine, surrounded by the lush forest and blooming garden, he looked so happy. The sight made your heart pound, strong and steady and warm. You couldn’t help yourself.

Approaching a step, you held his shoulder, went on your tippy toes, and kissed his cheek.

He stiffened. His cheeks deepened in color and his hair stood like a scared cat. Staring at you in shock, eyes wide, he couldn’t find the words to express himself.

You laughed softly, took his hand, and led him back to your home.

From then on, your relationship subtly changed.

You noticed him gazing at you, and your eyes couldn’t help wandering over to him. The way his muscles shifted when he chopped meat was utterly fascinating, he smelled good, his voice caused your ears to tingle and your cheeks to heat up when he lowered it... By the time you realized you’d fallen for the ogre, it was already too late to extricate yourself.

Like on the battlefield, one wrong move and you were done for.

But then again, were it the battlefield, you’d be dead by now, not ogling at the ogre’s strong back.

One evening, illuminated by the late rays of the setting sun, the two of you sat in the living room and drank some wine. And emboldened by alcohol, you leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

The ogre froze for a moment. Then, he tentatively reached out and held the back of your head, gently pulling you closer. It was soft, tender, and inexperienced, with neither of you quite knowing where to put your hands or how to proceed. You both inexplicably laughed as you looked at each other.

Your days continued like this for a while, filled with a kind of beautiful ambiguity of glances and holding hands and hugging and kissing, until a month later, the ogre proposed to you.

He did everything, the whole human ritual of going down on one knee and offering you a wedding band and stuttering out promises. There was an indescribable fragility hidden within his clear golden eyes, as if a single word from you could provide him supreme joy or devastating sorrow. Your word would sentence his life.

What a sweet burden.

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!"

Tears glistened in his eyes. His hands shook as he helped you wear the wedding band, and then you pulled him into a tight hug.

...

The wedding was held in the nearby village, organized and attended by everyone living in the vicinity. After all, such big events were rare, and being able to eat together was a nice treat.

Clad in a traditionally embroidered dress and wearing a flower crown, you and your ogre sat at the head of a long table. You toasted the attendees, the heaven and earth, and each other, and the feast officially began. You ate and chatted and laughed, and after a dance around the tall bonfire, the ogre carried you home amidst everyone’s cheers and congratulatory songs.

Once the door closed, it became quiet.

Hands wrapped around your husband’s neck you gazed at him and peppered his cheek with kisses.

Until he sat you down on his bed.

It was wide and big, exuding his scent. Pressed onto it, you felt surrounded by him as he kissed you. The kisses trailed down your neck and he carefully lifted your skirt, caressing your legs with the motion.

He was so careful he seemed like he was afraid to break you.

You brushed your hands over him in encouragement, enjoying how he shuddered from your touch. His normally clear golden eyes carried an intoxicated hue as you undressed each other, and his breathing grew heavier. Big hands cupped your breasts, rubbed your waist and fondled your thighs, all accompanied by kisses. He was like a devout admirer, an adoring worshipper.

Kneeling between your opened legs, his towering, hairy body looked like a monster about to devour its prey.

And then there was his cock... It was large, covered in irregular bumps, and as pre cum overflowed from the tip the length gradually started to glisten enticingly.

Just looking aroused you so much you were starting to get a little desperate to feel him inside you.

Your ogre husband felt your gaze. His abdomen tensed, making his cock twitch, and he audibly swallowed. Golden eyes closely watching your reactions, he stroked your pussy and slipped his thick fingers between your folds.

He gently rubbed, then carefully inserted one finger. It filled you well, quickly wetting you enough for a second finger. Now, every curl and stretch produced a quiet squelch, and the way he pressed against your inner walls caused you to cry out.

Your hands dug into his hairy chest when he pushed in a third finger. You felt like it was too much, yet you knew that it was necessary.

The ogre pumped his fingers for a long time. He caressed and kissed you and did everything he could to make you feel good in preparation for his cock. All he wanted was for you to be safe and sound, to not be the reason for your hurt and pain when he loved you so much.

Not yet used to this, it took a long while for you to come.

Your muscles relaxed after the tension and you panted, already sweaty from the exertion of having your pussy stretched.

“Are you alright?” Your husband asked, worry thick in his eyes.

You smiled reassuringly, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need a moment..."

He gently kissed your cheek. ”It’s okay. We, take our time."

“Mhm."

You kissed for a bit, then kissed a while longer, tongues entangled in a passionate dance, and you felt ready to continue.

Your ogre husband was extremely careful as he proceeded. He parted your folds to access your entrance, his big glans further widening your already stretched hole. The smooth tip way easily swallowed by you, yet it got more difficult when it came to his shaft, its bumps getting caught on your skin upon entering.

It made you frown and breathe harder, but when your husband offered to stop, you refused.

This was your wedding night, something you had been looking forward to. How could you stop now?

So he continued.

Very slowly, you took him in, until he was fully hilted and your belly bulged a little. His coarse pubic hair itched and tickled a little against your pussy, but the way his cock stretched you and pressed into your tender walls aroused you so much you were willing to ignore it.

After a while, you felt that you were used to being filled so thoroughly and gave your husband an encouraging look, “Go on..."

“Sure?"

You smiled, “Sure."

His clear golden eyes stained with lust took in your figure, how your face was flushed and sweaty and how your stomach bulged every time your pussy completely welcomed his big cock.

The slow pace left both of you drenched, impatient to finally fuck each other as if in heat. And yet, you kept at it, extremely careful due to your love.

Finally, after many repetitions of the same, slow thrusts, it was good enough. All it needed was a pleading look from you for him to find it impossible to hold back. His cock gave a twitch that made you moan, and then you couldn't stop moaning.

Every bump on your husband’s big cock managed to drag over your sensitive spots. The bed creaked and your breasts bounced as he pounded into you, his large hands firmly holding onto your hips to prevent you from being shoved away from him.

You clutched at his chest hair and arched your back from the stimulation. Your husband made you twitch in ecstasy, crying out as you came. Pussy fluttering around his length, squeezing him tightly, his accelerating pace heightened your pleasure and soon tipped you over the edge again and again, especially when his cock pulsed and his thick cum erupted, pumping you full of his seed.

In this way, you fucked the entire night, until dawn illuminated your sweaty bodies.

Lying on top of your husband with his cock still snugly plugging your pussy, you felt swollen and tired and happy.

Looking up, you saw his light golden eyes, and gave him a kiss. It was sloppy and messy, expressing both of your satisfaction and love.

And so, your peaceful days went on and on. By day, you worked together in the front, and by night, you fucked in the back. There seemed to be nothing more fulfilling than ending an exhausting day with a round of sex, sometimes slow and sleepy, other times hard and rough and leaving both of you dripping.

Life was good, and soon, a year had passed.

Your husband had closed shop early, allowing you to sit together on a bench in the yard and enjoy the sunset. He occasionally fed you some fruit slices, and in return you kissed his cheek.

You were just relaxing when you heard footsteps. Looking up, you saw a group of familiar faces, and one person couldn’t help exclaiming your name in joy and disbelief.

“Long time no see,” you smiled and nodded in greeting.

Your old guild team members were stunned. They were invited in by your husband in a daze, all the while repeatedly glancing at him, you, and your bulging belly.

You stroked your belly and smiled shyly, and the moment one of the team members asked, you happily started chattering on and on about how lovely your husband was and how happy you were to be pregnant and how good your life was now. It made your husband blush and your old team members stare. After all, they really couldn’t understand how an ugly, man-eating monster had gotten together with a human.

When one of them secretly inquired while your husband was making dinner, you said it was a matter of love.

The team member fell silent. She thought of the ogre, then looked at you, and understood even less. Then she thought, maybe it was her mindset limiting her. For you to fall in love, marry, and get pregnant, there had to be something to the monster that you found attractive, and it was normal that different people had different preferences.

In this way, she nodded to herself in affirmation and smilingly gave you her blessings.

A few more team members came over to talk to you, initially curious about your situation and later to catch up. Finally, you and your husband invited them to stay for the night. They chatted and ate happily, and then went upstairs to rest.

Lying in bed, you stroked your husband’s head as he kissed your pregnant belly. “I’m really happy we could reconnect."

He hummed. His stiff expression made you grin.

You grabbed his hair and pulled him up, moaning when his big hand grabbed your breast and his hard cock pressed against your pussy, “What, jealous?"

Your husband pulled a face, then buried his head in your chest and sucked on your nipple. He made you sigh in pleasure, tormenting your breasts and teasing your entrance until you begged him to fuck you, to go hard and fast and let the entire house hear you.

It was a beautiful yet sleepless night, with even the moon hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds.