#I feel like I know how this is going to end up but let's see anyway

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[angelsforthenight]

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt 2)

camgirl!vi x reader (read pt 1 here)

summary: after an abysmal night, you know who PinkSage really is. you want to loathe her, yet you can’t seem to escape vi’s agonising game, especially underneath the guttural heat of your city’s sun.

pre a/n: yaaawl if ur expecting smut in this chapter then i’m sorry but not yet 🙁🙁 i want to drag s.m.g out longer than i did with my last ellie series so you’re gonna have to wait until the next chapter. sometimes a slow burn can be so much better and worth it in the end, i promise! hope you guys still enjoy <3

content: AAAANGST, vi is really mean, very slight slut-shaming, cursing, crying, playful!vi, teasing! this entire chapter is a huge tease, vi is extroverted, difficult goddamn lesbians, some painful yearning, some cute moments, vi’s got one point up in this chap but we’ll see how that’ll go…

“i know who you are.”

your eyes persist in hers: as if trying to burrow yourself inside them and make yourself known.

vi, irritated as is, raises her brows and shakes her head; urging for you to elaborate. you have no idea where your boldness came from, but you find yourself continuing.

“PinkSage. y-you’re PinkSage, i watch you all the time i—“ vi’s face does a whole u-turn, the colour draining from her face.

“hold on, shut the fucking door first!” she hisses frantically. you flinch into obeying her. when you turn back around, your heart sinks at the disgusted look on vi’s face. maybe you hadn’t thought this one through.

“the fuck were you thinking? saying that shit whilst your parents are sleeping right there?” she whisper-scolds, storming towards you. you back away until you’re up against your door. yeah… what exactly were you thinking was going to happen? for your favourite cam-girl to immediately get on her knees and start eating you out? of course this moment hadn’t gone as you expected.

“huh? you just gonna stand there like a dumbass after revealing that shit? you of all people?” vi continues, her voice raising. she’s so enraged! as if it’s your fault that the woman you’re supposed to idolise happened to stay in your house. it’s only a fucked-up coincidence. your lips quiver as you find your voice.

“you— you’re being too loud.” are the only words that you can think of to say. vi stares at you in disbelief.

“… my parents are sleeping after all, right?” you mutter, looking away. vi is scowling so much she may as well pop a vein.

“hah. you’re a sick fucking freak.” she laughs dryly, shaking her head incredulously. though your gaze flicks up to her; bewildered and hurt, you’re not just going to let her talk down on you like this. not when what vi does is worse.

“you spread your legs for, like, a million pervs online. i don’t think you have the right to talk.” you snap whilst your voice trembles. here’s to thinking the world of PinkSage…

“pervs including your dull ass.” vi scoffs.

“watch your mouth, unless you’d like to sleep in the streets.”

“oh yeah? and what would you explain to your parents?” vi’s lips twitch into a grin, “mommy, daddy! kick vi out because i jerk off to her online but she’s being mean to me in real life!” she mocks, her voice lilting into a higher-pitched tone. your instinct is to push her in order to shut her mouth. vi only stumbles a little, but she glares at you as if you’ve thrown tomato juice all over her white top.

“fuck you.” you’re about to leave until something comes over you, feeling compelled to say one last thing. let her sit with this shit.

“and for your information, last time you streamed? you orgasmed to my name. your_user? yeah, that was me.”

you relish in the way vi’s expression mellows into one of astonishment. she’s dumbfounded and silent.

“sleep with that, bitch.” you spit, hastily slipping back to your room. you would’ve slammed the door if it wasn’t going to wake your parents up. your mother sleeps with one eye open and any noise would have her rising from her bed as if she’s a vampire.

once you make it back to your room, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. you’re trembling: entire body buzzing from head to toe with adrenaline and fury.

two steps closer to your bed and you feel a glob of tears swell in your throat, shooting up to your eyes. they are quick to rivulet down your cheeks like a torrent, and you intake a shuddering breath, coated with phlegm. afraid of vi hearing you next door, you immediately cover your mouth.

you jump into your bed, too arrogant to admit that the reason why you’re sobbing in your pillow is because you’re upset. you’re fucking pissed is what you are, embarrassed that you even said anything — and that vi had the gall to respond like that. whereas a week ago you would’ve praised PinkSage as if she were a saint, you’re sitting here wondering who the fuck this woman thinks she is.

of course famous people are dickheads in real life. you should’ve expected this. you fiercely wipe your tears, yanking your covers over your head. at least you were able to have the last word. you think about the look on her face, hoping she feels just as stupid as you do.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it’s the morning that’s downright awful. you woke up too early, and now you’re forced out of your will to sit with your family and vi to eat breakfast.

your parents are trying so hard to impress her and you hate it. they’ve even gone the extra length of setting a table in your backyard, spread neatly over the stone ground. you don’t remember there being this much food in your house, let alone the gingham cloth fanned over the table. as if this breakfast is a special occasion. they must think vi is a goddamn prodigy! they find it to be groundbreaking how can she be oh so sweet volunteering for animals and taking care of them, and how she works out a lot and that tattoo on her face…

you chew your food slowly, glaring daggers at her as she compliments your mother’s cooking with her mouth full. meanwhile you would’ve gotten scolded for doing that! you’re being petty and stifling: insanely moody in this delicate summer morning. how could you not? you were in tears because of her audacity last night!

you bet if your parents found out what vi really does, your dad wouldn’t suggest playing basketball with her, and your mother wouldn’t be asking her all these stupid, prodding questions. ones like, “vi, do you have a boyfriend? o-or a girlfriend! if that’s what you prefer?”

you two make eye contact then. a split second, but it was palpable like an electric current zipping up your spine. you’re the first to look away; suddenly interested in swirling your fried egg around, smearing the yolk.

“nah. not interested in that stuff.” she replies dismissively, cool as a cucumber, because everything about her is cool! peachy! you prick your bacon with your fork hard, bringing it up to your lips as you flicker a glance at vi once more. since she’s not paying attention anymore, your eyes decide to fixate on the slope of her nose, shimmering from the light mixed with shadows that are dancing from the leaves above.

vi mutters something indignantly to your father, something you don’t hear because she suddenly steps on your foot under the table. hard. you accidentally let out a gasp that’s a little too loud, obliging everyone else to stop what they’re doing to glance up at you. they definitely forgot that you were even here. you glare at vi, who’s looking away as if she hadn’t just done that on purpose. are we suddenly little kids now? did she wake up completely overturned? ready to be an upbeat ray of sunshine after rudely shutting you down last night?

“everything okay?” dad raises a brow. vi only pretends to be curious, furrowing her brows and pouting, a faint jeering expression for your eyes only. what is she trying to play at? this isn’t just mere playfulness. this is something else.

“yeah, fine.” you murmur. you’re ready to push your chair back and leave until you hear your mother.

“oh, y/n can take you. she knows her way around the area better than any of us.” you freeze.

“what?” you brow quirks into a look of foul disdain. especially because vi looks like a grinning dog at your mother’s suggestion.

“you guys can even take the bikes!” dad chimes in enthusiastically. you want the skies above to open up and take you away. right here, right now.

“but—“

“i would love to go with you.” vi beams. that wretched look on her face, full of mischief and lies. the sun on her face isn’t exactly helping either. it’s all a cruel taunt: the way it kisses her face, the way it highlights her plush lips curved into that sweet, deceitful smile. she could be the sun herself… if she wasn’t so obnoxious. yet you find yourself relenting, giving a speck of yourself away to the woman who gets under your skin. you force yourself to stare at the wooden ridges of the table instead of the sunlight dancing on vi’s features.

“…fine. where to?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the lazy july sun is beating down on you mercilessly. vi’s wearing a baseball cap, but you? you were too pissed off and stubborn to listen to your mother’s advice on wearing a hat. so now you’re suffering.

you’re steering down the tree-lined dirt track with your bike. though it’s so damn hot, you really do appreciate the beauty that summer brings along: how everything appears so bright and awake. you won’t pretend that it can’t be suffocating however, especially when you have a certain pink-haired someone riding a bike behind you, distinctly aware of her eyes boring down your back.

vi slightly quickens so she’s right beside you, you side-eye her.

“who says that theres space for the both of us?” your words may as well have a double meaning. vi grins. there is actually enough space, you just don’t want her next to you.

“i did. you’re so sweaty you’re glowing by the way.”

“aw, thank you.” you sneer at her before picking up the pace.

“hey, wait! i was fucking around!” she chuckles, following you down the road.

you guys ride until you’re in the city: bustling with people and markets. mothers are dragging their screaming kids, men are oozing with sweat; grumbling as they push past people. you’re jealous of those passing by that are able to fan their faces. vi parks her bike, but you don’t.

“well, it has been lovely escorting you.” you mutter sarcastically, gripping the handlebars.

“what? you’re not staying? what makes you think i know my way around?” vi counters. she looks so puzzled, like a puppy. you swallow, seeming to crumble just a little more when you look at her face for too long.

“um, i didn’t know you wanted a tour… but fine.”

you two walk along the markets. vi has quite some time before she’s called in for work so she wanted to familiarise herself with the city beforehand. at first, you guys hardly talk, simply following vi as she wanders about instead: watching as her eyes glint at the vintage trinkets and antiques they sell in stalls.

you feel like a clamshell stalling quietly behind her, as she eagerly chats with quite literally anyone. she’s so extroverted! it’s begrudgingly interesting watching her communicate, her delivery of words smooth and clear, making anyone hang onto her words like rope.

there’s too many people in this narrow path, and too much pushing. you don’t want to lose yourself in the crowd, so you helplessly tug on vi’s sleeve. vi glances back.

“you good?” she keeps walking with you continuing to use her sleeve as leverage. it’d be a mess if you guys were to randomly stop now, with this sea of people that have clearly got places to be.

“yeah, i just don’t wanna lose you.” you reply, realising too late how weird that just sounded. vi, jovial as she already has been, only smiles wider. you quickly back-pedal.

“m-my parents would kill me if i were to lose our guest, you know?”

“here.” you all but expected for vi to lace her fingers into yours, holding your hand as you continue to slink through the masses of people. why is she being like this? was last night completely erased from her head, or does she just not care that much? you stare at the back of her head, as if that’ll give you answers. you secretly enjoy the warmth of her hand, subtly pressing your palm further into hers. vi doesn’t notice. good.

you guys find yourself in a music shop. this, after all the other markets and shops you’ve visited, finally has captured your keen interest. you come here all the time, the main source of all your cds in your room.

your eyes sparkle when your fingers stumble across one you’ve always wanted. limited edition, and it has a holographic cover too! how sick is that?

however, the excitement quickly fades when you remember that because you were stuck in your cloud of fitful anger, you ended up forgetting your wallet at home. you palm your pockets, making sure it miraculously doesn’t just so happen to be there… but nope. nothing.

“boo.” you feel the hotness of her mouth hard by your ear before you even register anything else. you squirm away, glowering at her only to be met with a cheeky smile back. vi’s already got a whole bag of stuff! how nice that must be.

“you gonna buy that?” vi points her gaze at the cd in your hands. you slot it back in the genre section. “i don’t have money, left it at home.” you mumble.

vi snorts, “you’re a real smart one, ain’t ya?”

“shut up. go pay for that and i’ll wait outside.” you grumble, practically storming out the door. you’ve never met anyone quite like vi. she’s so playful, and stupid and sweet, hot and mean all at the same time: getting under your skin in the worst way imaginable. the memory of PinkSage feels like it’s slipping from your fingers like sand.

vi comes back a moment later, smacking a cd down in your hands and walking ahead like nothing happened. you stare at her confusedly, but your eyebrows quickly rest in realisation as you gaze down at the cd. it’s the same one you wanted. your stomach betrays you by fluttering and then churning intensely.

“hey.” you call out, making vi stop.

“what’s your deal? why’d you buy this for me?” you grip the cd, heart beating like a live wire. vi turns around and walks closer to you. branches are singing from the breeze, seagulls are cawing, but you can’t hear anything. not when your full focus is on her. not when she’s walking so close it’s as if she’s going to step right through you.

“‘cause i saw how much you wanted it. you were gleaming.” she shrugs. how casual she must be, whilst your heart is pounding to the rhythm of her syllables. vi-o-let. why must you treat me this way?

“it’s no big deal.” she stares at you blankly up and down. you point your view downwards, focusing on the ladybug that’s started to crawl on your shoe. a kind respite from vi’s torturous gaze.

“why… why are you being so nice? after wh-what happened last night?” curse your sudden nervousness.

vi might as well close the gap between the pair of you, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to direct your gaze on her. oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

“because you’re my biggest fan.” vi stretches out her words, soft and punishing. this godforsaken woman… you could quite literally die on her feet. your brain short-circuits and then switches off. especially when you witness vi’s gaze flickering to your lips. your breathing quickens, and it feels like your body isn’t yours anymore. you may as well be a floating bubble.

until vi takes her hat off and puts it on your head instead, patting it. “come on, let’s skedaddle. you don’t think our bikes got stolen, do you?” she jogs ahead, whilst you stand here like a dumbass, the cd lying limply in your hands.

this is a brutal penance worser than last night. vi did that on purpose, to see your reaction, and now that she’s got her fill, she’s going back to pretending as if nothing happened. how unsparing. how cruel.

you force yourself to drag your feet, one feet after the other towards vi. your head is lagging behind, still stuck on her touch.

a/n: some of u might hate me for this 😅😅👅👅👅 but oh my god u guys are in a DOOZY for chapter three i’m literally trembling thinking about writing it ughhhfhdhhd once again lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist but also some of u guys need to check that ur mentions are on or else i can’t tag! :< anywhooo sorry that this chapter was a little shorter but did anyone else clock the cmbyn tea…

taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0 @ghgygd @jupitism @reneesub @cotrill09 @itzsky82 @elliesbabygirl @adora-moonshine @maxinephobia @ch3sire-blu3 @krilara @perrzs @thankynext @zaunite-516 @eren-luvr @cpt-prices-leftnipple @goticapomposa @lolitalovess @moonchildcovenxx @spicedcherrylolli @mystar-girl57 @mar1posita @avonnimimi @kirajess @caitvisgirl @heyy-lovey @antobooh @jajsnjz @beachaddict48 @aceywaycy @sleepingwasp @elliezlils11utt @vincinnamontoast @runawaybaby3 @h0n3yf0rlif3 @iluvwomensm

[moonlight-alexia]

no words, just you | a.p.

alexia putellas x matildas!reader | 1.4k | you come home to alexia after a tough international break

ˏˋ°•*⁀ i hope y'all like it, it just came into my head no long ago and felt the need to write it. idk if it's any good but hope you all like to read it <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

As you settled into your seat on the plane, an uneasy weight settled over your body. A long flight that was going to be made even longer with the way you couldn’t settle yourself or seem to relax. There was a heaviness that wasn’t going away and all you could do was hope that it would leave once you focused back on club football.

You normally loved international break. You love representing your country, you love spending time with your national teammates, you were all so close and had this bond. Especially everyone being spread across the globe, camp was made more special getting to see your friends that you had grown up playing football with. 

You always wore the green and gold with so much pride, you just wished the people in charge cared about you and the team the way you cared about playing for your country. It was easier said than done to just focus on the football and let that do the talking. The constant media abuse was starting to weigh on most of the girls in camp, having no clear direction and not properly building towards a home tournament in twelve months was becoming exhausting. Seven months without a permanent coach.

Part of you wished you had pulled out of this camp and stayed in Barcelona with Alexia during this break. But the idea of a little tournament and a kit debut had drawn you in and now, mentally, you were paying the price of going.

Leaning your head back against your seat, you let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You grabbed your phone, hovering over the texts from Alexia, seeing the most recent ones she’d sent as you were getting on the plane.

‘Bon dia mi amor, have a safe flight. I’ll be there when you land. Te quiero y te extraño mucho xx’

A little smile graced your lips, you couldn’t wait to be home with Alexia, to be in her arms where nothing else seems to matter but the safety of her presence. Alexia had been a bit worried about you over the last week and a bit. She’d managed to find a way to watch your matches and by the end of the last one she could see how defeated you looked. Each loss on top of everything else going on had really weighed you down and it was visible, probably more so to someone like Alexia who knew you as well as she did.

Since the kit debut photos came out where Alexia couldn’t hold back from calling you and you having agreed to model the away kit for her when you were back home, conversations between the two of you mainly consisted of Alexia sending you little messages throughout the day with no expectation of you answering. 

Even if you barely had the mental energy to reply to the messages, getting to read little bits of Alexia’s day made you smile. Also made you miss her even more than you thought you could. 

‘Te quiero Ale, can’t wait to see you again x’

Soon enough you’ll be in Alexia’s arms, the one thought that would get you through the flight back to Barcelona. You were wrapped up in one of Alexia’s hoodies that you’d taken on camp with you, arms wrapped around yourself tightly as if you could hold yourself together so you didn’t feel so flat and like you were breaking. The hoodie still smelled like Alexia and your eyes suddenly grew heavy. It’d been a long week and a half, so you were more than happy to let yourself succumb to and let sleep wash over you.

‘Amor!’ Alexia’s eyes lit up when she saw you walking through the airport, quickly making her way over to you, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up slightly. You let out a breath of a laugh, dropping the handle of your suitcase and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. Nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck, the hoodie may have smelled like Alexia but nothing was better than actually having her against you.

‘Hola Ale,’ You whispered against the skin of her neck, your breath sending a shiver down her spine. She’s missed this, missed you.

Time seemed to stop while you both stood wrapped up in each other's arms in the middle of the airport. Reluctantly you slightly pulled away from each other, your hands resting on the tops of her arms while Alexia’s were still loosely wrapped around your waist. Alexia leaned down, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

Alexia grabbed the handle of your suitcase with one hand and with the other she held out for you to hold, lacing your fingers together the moment your hand met hers, ‘Home now, sí?’ Alexia gave your hand a little squeeze, smiling softly at you. 

‘I’m already home amor,’ Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder against yours. 

‘Oh stop it you,’ Alexia tried to hide her smile from you, but it was always impossible.

A comfortable silence fell over you both while Alexia drove you back to your shared house. You were still so tired, leaning your head back, your eyes fixated on your girlfriend. Every so often you saw her eyes flutter in your direction, lips turning up every time she caught your gaze. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks when she noticed you were staring at her.

‘Mi amor,’ Alexia whined, ‘Why you staring?’ She reached over gently, pushing your head to look the other way.

‘What? I can’t look at mi novia who is muy bonita,’ You emphasised the little bits of Spanish you sprinkled in whenever you could, making Alexia laugh a little. 

‘Remember when all you could say was bon dia for months,’ It had taken you a bit to get used to and remember bits of the language from your lessons. Somehow you and Alexia got to know each other despite her broken English and your broken Spanish, ‘Now look at you, adding more words,’ You pushed her hand away when she tapped your thigh faux condescendingly.

‘Not my fault it took me so long. My teacher was quite distracting,’ You joked around, cracking a half smile. Alexia smirked, a wink sent your way and at a red light she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, resting her hand on your thigh.

The moment you walked through the front door to the house you shared with Alexia, there was a comfort that instantly washed over you. The past week, while still in the back of your mind, it wasn’t so loud anymore. Photos of you and Alexia, your friends and family filled the space and you were reminded of everything good in your life.

‘Hate seeing you like this cari,’ Alexia’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ‘I know what it’s like, if you need to talk,’ You melted into Alexia’s embrace. You may not have been the one to tell her what had been going on, but she always knew what to do and say even if no one had told her.

‘Just want to be here with you, leave it all out there,’ You pointed lazily towards the door, for now wanting to keep your house the safe space you needed.

Alexia laid against the headboard, you laid between her legs with your head on her chest. She wrapped a blanket around the two of you, rubbing your back gently, for the first time since you left Barcelona for camp you felt like you could finally relax.

Alexia kissed the top of your head, letting her lips linger, ‘Saw the goal mi vida, siempre muy bien, going do that with us next week?’ She spoke softly against your head. 

You cuddled into Alexia, pressing yourself against her even more, trying to get as close as possible,  ‘Do I get a reward if I do?’ You smiled sheepishly.

‘Hmm you always do,’ Alexia tilted your head up and kissed you slowly, 

The weight of everything would come back another day but for tonight you were home, safe, loved and in the arms of the one person who could always make everything feel like it would be okay again. You were back with Alexia and, tonight, that’s all that matters.

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[the-cats-noodles]

Everytime I see this, everytime, someone brings up marriage as an exception and I can't help but think, really?

I get it, promises are important (to death do us part, which is in and of itself an unrealistic standard but whatever i dont have time to talk abt that) but I feel like people forget that marriage for love is relatively recent? The point of marriage being to join households and pass on property is much older (and the origin of the whole "only death can make us separate" bc property and inheritance) like, the reason people stayed together was bc of duty not love and that was a very different environment than the one now (which is good) but it still means we're talking about a standard that is unrealistic in our current environment (not to mention the insane amount of murder over not being able to get divorced in the past, like it's a very good thing we can end marriages now)

There's nothing wrong with marrying someone and wanting to stay with them forever (we chose to do this for love and that was good actually), but can we stop pretending this idea is universal?

Making a promise is all well and good, but people change and their promises do too.

Like, yes you keep growing as you get older and yes you might grow closer with your partner (and that's perfectly normal and okay) BUT you might also grow apart and that is ALSO PERFECTLY OKAY

Saying that marriage is something to exclude from the idea of decentering permanence is kinda ignoring all the people who really shouldn't be staying together but "have" to (for the kids, reputation, etc) and anybody involved definitely feels that dynamic shift...

Just, yeah "keep your promises" but also know that breaking them is a part of life and its much better for both parties if you break a promise instead of wither away trying to uphold it for some perceived sense of duty or obligation to people whose opinions literally DO NOT matter

(If you wanna be with one person forever? great! If they don't agree bc they don't love you anymore? Oh well, tough luck, I guarantee you'll be better off letting them go then forcing them to stay in a legal contract, which is what marriage becomes when you don't feel love for the other party anymore)

Also I get most people don't want to force someone to stay in a situation that makes them miserable, at least I really hope they don't, but when (as a society) we place more importance on the whole 'till death do us part' bit and less on the 'I love you and want to show it' (or even say the only way to show it is to hold onto that person forever) then it kinda forces people into this idea of "having" to stay

And look, counseling is great, it can work wonders, but it is NOT a miracle worker. It can't fix everything and it doesn't have to bc A LOT of marriages aren't broken they're just fizzling out

Am I making any sense? Who knows, but I was raised in a community where ending a marriage or relationship was worse than cheating bc "marriages are work"

They are, but you also retire from work when it becomes a strain and you can't do it anymore. You can quit a job if it doesn't fit. I'm not saying marriage is a job, but I am saying that if we expect marriage to involve work we can expect it to reach the point where people just DONT WANT TO DO THAT ANYMORE and that's okay

I'm begging: please stop insisting marriage is different from other relationships in this regard bc it isn't. It's sweet and a wonderful experience but it's still just a love between two people and we can't expect that to be magically enough to stop the natural progression all relationships go through.

You lose friends over time but some stay around. You lose family over time (like, no contact in this case not necessarily through death) but some stay around. You lose lovers and partners over time but some stay around. And that's okay, u just don't see how the last one is somehow expected to have more weight.

(Which I believe was op's point? That they're all temporary and that's a good thing actually)

Like everything is temporary, it's just sometimes that temporary lines up with our lives bc we ourselves are temporary beings, and it's okay if it does and it's okay if it doesn't.

I think a lot about how we as a culture have turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success.

Like… if you open a coffee shop and run it for a while and it makes you happy but then stuff gets too expensive and stressful and you want to do something else so you close it, it’s a “failed” business. If you write a book or two, then decide that you don’t actually want to keep doing that, you’re a “failed” writer. If you marry someone, and that marriage is good for a while, and then stops working and you get divorced, it’s a “failed” marriage.

The only acceptable “win condition” is “you keep doing that thing forever”. A friendship that lasts for a few years but then its time is done and you move on is considered less valuable or not a “real” friendship. A hobby that you do for a while and then are done with is a “phase” - or, alternatively, a “pity” that you don’t do that thing any more. A fandom is “dying” because people have had a lot of fun with it but are now moving on to other things.

I just think that something can be good, and also end, and that thing was still good. And it’s okay to be sad that it ended, too. But the idea that anything that ends is automatically less than this hypothetical eternal state of success… I don’t think that’s doing us any good at all.

[meinii]

"hoodie thief"

summary: Sylus' hoodies have been disappearing lately... the thief was closer than he thought •⩊•

content: fluffy fluff, Luke and Kieran cameo

                      ୨୧·。。·♡·∴·♡·。。·୨୧

Sylus was no fool

at first, he didn’t think much of it—one or two hoodies missing wasn’t a big deal. he probably left them somewhere, maybe in his office or tossed over one of the chairs in Onychinus. but as the days passed, his wardrobe slowly dwindled. hoodies, sweatshirts, even his thicker, oversized ones—all mysteriously gone

and there was only one person who had the audacity to steal from him

you.

Sylus narrowed his eyes. he had seen you wearing his hoodies a few times, the fabric swallowing your frame, the sleeves dangling past your hands. and each time, you acted as if it was no big deal. like it wasn’t a crime against the very fabric of his empire.

the moment you walked into his office that evening, wrapped in yet another one of his hoodies, he just stared

you blinked "what?"

he leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, a slow smirk tugging at his lips "you’re awfully comfortable stealing from me, aren’t you?"

you feigned innocence, glancing down at the hoodie draped over you "oh… this? I—uh—found it"

"found it?" he repeated, amused

"yeah. just lying around"

"in your house?"

"…maybe"

Sylus exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. he could force you to return them—could pin you down and strip it right off your body if he really wanted to—but he let it slide, for now

because, truthfully, he liked seeing you in his hoodies.

that might’ve been the end of it—except Luke and Kieran, the ever-loyal informants, decided to stick their noses in where it did not belong

"boss, we have a report on your missing items"

Sylus looked up from his paperwork, giving Luke and Kieran a deadpan stare "You actually investigated?"

Luke grinned "of course. you seemed so troubled about it, after all"

Sylus rolled his eyes "go on, then"

Kieran pulled out a small tablet, tapping the screen "after some thorough research—which included some discreet surveillance—we have identified the culprit" he turned the screen toward Sylus

it was you, sneaking out of his penthouse with an armful of his hoodies, stuffing them into a bag like a professional thief

Sylus let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief "she really had the audacity to smuggle them out?"

Luke smirked "oh, she’s been planning this. we even found a whole stash at her place"

Sylus raised an eyebrow "a stash?"

"mm-hm. neatly folded, stacked in her closet. she’s treating them like trophies, boss"

Sylus chuckled, tilting his head back in amusement. the fact that you collected them, carefully keeping them all together—it was both ridiculous and insanely endearing

"and here’s the best part," Kieran continued, clearly enjoying himself "we confronted her about it. wanna know what she said?"

Sylus smirked "let’s hear it"

Luke cleared his throat dramatically "'tell Sylus I have no idea what he’s talking about. those are legally mine now. he can’t do anything about it.'"

Sylus burst out laughing, dragging a hand down his face "legally hers?"

"she made a contract in her head, boss. if she wears it enough times, it’s hers now."

Sylus shook his head, amused beyond belief "She really is impossible"

Luke grinned "so? what’s the plan? gonna storm her place and reclaim your lost belongings?"

Sylus smirked "no, no… let her have them"

Kieran raised an eyebrow "really?"

"oh, yeah" Sylus leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with mischief "I want to see how long she thinks she can get away with this"

that night, you were comfortably curled up on your couch, wearing yet another hoodie of Sylus'. t smelled like him—faint hints of cedarwood, spice, and something unmistakably him. it was oversized, the sleeves pooling over your hands, the warmth of the fabric making you feel safe

you had no regrets. none at all.

until your phone buzzed

Sylus: I know everything

you stared at the message, heart stopping for a second

you hesitated before replying

You: everything about what? Sylus: you’re a terrible liar.

you swallowed, typing as nonchalantly as possible

You: I think you’re mistaken. I am simply a humble citizen living her best life. Sylus: living your best life with my entire wardrobe?

okay. he knew. he definitely knew.

you considered your options

1) play dumb 2) flee the country 3) beg for forgiveness

before you could type a response, there was a knock on your door

your stomach dropped

slowly, cautiously, you opened the door—only to find Sylus leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes sharp with amusement

"you," he drawled "are the worst thief I’ve ever seen."

you cleared your throat, shifting slightly "what brings you here, oh great ruler of Onychinus?"

he smirked "oh, just checking in on my beloved hoodie thief."

You knew Luke and Kieran had snitched. those little traitors.

Sylus stepped forward, towering over you, his fingers tugging lightly at the hem of the hoodie you were wearing

"you didn’t even bother returning one," he mused, tilting his head "you just kept all of them"

you pouted "well… they’re cozy"

his eyes flickered with amusement "and that means they belong to you?"

"yes," you said shamelessly "finders keepers"

Sylus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head "unbelievable"

"you’re not mad, though," you pointed out, a slow grin spreading across your lips "you like seeing me in them."

he exhaled, a smirk playing on his lips "you’re lucky I do"

his fingers brushed against your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly. his voice lowered, warm and teasing

"if you wanted to keep something of mine so badly… all you had to do was ask"

your face grew warm at the implication "I—"

"shh" he leaned down, his lips barely an inch from yours "enjoy your little collection while it lasts. I might just take one back… personally"

your heart definitely skipped a beat

Sylus grinned at your expression, clearly enjoying himself

"sweet dreams, hoodie thief"

and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away—leaving you flustered, warm, and absolutely unwilling to give back a single hoodie

[thepossummoldypasta]

ok, ok hear me out on this one.

The party is holed up in the hospital, Vecna is dead, Eddie isn’t, and the “earthquake” has absolutely devastated the town.

Steve ended up being a little more hurt than he let on and nobody really realized until one of the nurses threatened to tie him to his bed. The only reason Steve even agrees to stay in his hospital room is because the kids pitch a fit about it, and it’s the same room a comatose Eddie Munson is laying in just one bed over.

The first few days are rough, and Steve’s starting to get really antsy. Luckily another nurse sees what’s going on (and hospital staff are stretched thinner than paper) and goes “You’re an omega right? Do you think you can help me out with something?” And Steve—desperate for something productive to do—agrees.

So the nurse—a short , sweet, and badass alpha woman who calls herself Jack—helps Steve into a wheelchair and steers him over to the NICU. Jack brings over the tiniest baby boy Steve has ever seen and explains how he was born prematurely thanks to the earthquakes and his Mama didn’t make it through delivery.

“He needs round the clock care, but it’s no longer necessary to keep him here,” Jack says “And because there are a lot of babies that are worse off, we can’t keep ‘em in this unit unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She seems really unhappy about the situation and Steve knows it’s something that would never happen if things weren’t so bad.

“What’s going to happen to him?” He can’t help but ask.

“That’s where I’m hoping you come in.” The alpha’s chirps “Normally when things are this rough we would place him with a foster but all the roads are closed and Hawkins is cut off from everything. I was hoping that since you’re itching for a job you could look after him?”

Steve tears his eyes away from the baby (how long had he just been staring at him?) and he looks at Jack.

“What’s his name?” It’s not a confirmation, not yet, but it’s enough for Jack to chuff and hand Steve the baby.

“Legally? Nothing, and we can’t technically name him until he can be claimed by the state, but you can call him whatever you want. Doubt he’ll have any complaints.” She chuckles, leaning against a wall. It strikes Steve then that despite how young she looks, she also looks equally exhausted. This is probably the closest the alpha has gotten to a break since the actual earthquake.

“Okay” Steve says, it’s a he can say, and really it’s all he needed to.

Three days later Eddie wakes up, looks to his left, and immediately sees Steve god damned Harrington sitting at his bedside holding a newborn baby.

“Oh fuck…” Eddie says, not exactly eloquent but in his defense he just woke up from a coma feeling like he was mentally and physically hit full force with a semi truck.

And Dustin, because he’s a little shit who’s been presented with a golden opportunity to mess with his friends, cries out “Eddie! Thank god you’re awake. You’ve been in a coma for nine months!”

[thegreeninyoureyes]

Sylus wants to comfort you but someone interrupts

thoughts thoughts random hurt/comfort scenario

[gender neutral MC/reader]

it is one of those moments where you need to search for him. fear is creeping in and your trembling voice cannot stand a call, so a few messages asking for help and his location would have to do. sylus knows you well enough to get the message, and walks towards the entrance of the base to try find you in the city's dark. he'd offer you a ride to his home if you needed to, because it is also yours in a way, especially when you need to escape, be it from physical or mental enemies.

you can run into his arms when you see him— he'll catch you. he always will.

"let's go inside, it's cold out here. you need something warm and for me to take care of you. I can carry you inside if you want."

if you start crying against his chest, there's no way he's moving away. sylus pulls you in a relaxed embrace, wrapping you in his arms and slowly letting his head rest on yours. you needn't speak, you needn't explain. he'll take you somewhere safe and quiet, somewhere you'll get to lie against him until words come back to you.

and yet in this occasion, the comfort doesn't last for long. perhaps it was a client, or a visitor you didn't know sylus had at the base. your thoughts start racing again when you hear angry footsteps followed by a voice asking for sylus in a demanding tone. perhaps I'm exaggerating it, you think about your own perception. but then sylus sighs.

"stay here, love. I need to... clear up some things to someone. I'll be back in a minute, I promise."

he takes a good look at you before even drawing away, and for a moment you think he was going to kiss your forehead. he doesn't, and you are suddenly left alone with the dim lights of his bedroom. the flame of the scary thoughts he was blowing away starts to reignite very against your will. but that's how struggling works, right? what can you cling to now?

you catch glimpses of the conversation, which slowly turns into an argument, and realise you might actually be part of what's caused it. unable to stand the atmosphere and the thought of bringing trouble to sylus, you try to put yourself together as decently as possible and get out of the base.

when the door closes on you, you start to run. you need to get away— from the noise, from trouble, somewhere safe, somewhere you no longer know where. the moment sylus realises you've left, he ends the argument in the middle of it, clearly pissed off at the other person's attitude. he rushes to get his jacket and also leave, hoping to still find you near the building.

the panic and its emotions didn't let you get far, and sylus approaches you with his motorbike. it's started to rain. you don't know if you've been crying or if the sky's been doing so for you. but sylus' first reaction upon seeing you is to take off his jacket and put it over you, and his care hits you like the strongest wave against your wall of insecurity.

"I'm gonna drive you home, and I'm hoping you don't mind me staying over this time. I'm sorry things got complicated in there. you'd never, ever, cause me trouble for needing me, and I'll make sure to make that clear to others, no matter who they are. now, hold on tight. I still owe you tonight."

if there's someone you can call when things aren't right, it's him. the one whose presence makes any place feel like a safe home.

[feeder86]

Lust, Lies and Legacies

It was instant, that heart-thumping moment when Danny first set eyes on Nial’s new boyfriend. He’d heard about the guy several times from his housemate, alongside a detailed run-through of each of their dates so far. Hell, he’d even seen a couple of pictures on Nial’s cell phone, but nothing could have prepared him for that feeling when he first opened the door to him that one evening after work. 

“You must be Danny?” the handsome man asked, standing at the door, waiting to come in. “I’m Ted; Nial’s…” “Yes!” Danny shot back, needing no explanation and immediately stepping back from the threshold to allow the man inside. So breathtakingly tall and naturally broad, Ted breezed by; the scent of his aftershave causing butterflies to flutter in Danny’s stomach. “You know that Nial won’t be back from work for another half an hour or so?” he asked the impossibly good-looking man standing in the hallway with him. 

Ted shrugged. “I know,” he nodded. “Nial told me to come over anyway. He said you’d be here to let me in. I usually go to the gym after work but, half an hour isn’t really enough time to get stuck in.”

Danny made the man feel welcome, sitting him down in their lounge area and pouring him some coffee. Like his mother before him, Danny knew how to be hospitable to guests and soon had Ted talking all about himself. He heard about his family and education, his career and even his ex-boyfriends, of which there were surprisingly few. The boy had such kind eyes, Danny thought to himself, getting lost within them. Despite his imposing, giant, muscular build, he spoke so calmly and softly, like the genuinely nice guy he appeared to be.

“Sorry,” Ted chuckled, realising the time as Nial began unlocking the front door behind him. “I’ve just talked at you for the last thirty minutes. I’m not usually this chatty.”  It was obvious that he felt quite relaxed in Danny’s company and, perhaps, even a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to have a second mug of his special coffee.

For Danny, he sighed, realising that Nial would soon do what he did with all his boyfriends and sweep Ted away to his bedroom. He felt a pang of jealousy as he saw Nial embrace him and kiss him gently on the mouth. Nial was as handsome as they came, but it was obvious that Ted was far too sweet for him. There was an innocence and wholesomeness about the man that Danny had fallen for straight away. It broke his heart to imagine him getting mixed up with a guy like Nial.

“What did you think?” Nial asked a few hours later, after Ted had gone home. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? A proper hunk! He played football in college, y’know.”

Danny nodded. Ted’s impeccable physique had not evaded his attention. “He’s a really great guy,” he conceded.

“And he’ll fatten up a treat!” Nial continued, smirking as he saw the future mapped out in his head. “You should see how much he can eat!” he swooned. “If I just keep putting him off from going to the gym, I’ll have more than a few extra pounds on him in no time. He’s in that perfect sweet spot after finishing college last year and no longer playing football: the appetite of an athlete, without the exercise. Excess calories can pile up with ease!”

On paper, Danny and his housemate had relatively little in common. That was, apart from their shared appreciation of significantly larger guys. The theory of how Nial operated, seducing his lovers and then tweaking their diets to quietly fatten them up, had excited Danny at first. However, the reality had made him feel more than a little guilty. He’d moved in six months ago and witnessed Nial taking his ex from ‘chubby’ to really quite significantly overweight, before they ended things. And his ex had just been one of several innocent victims Nial had sunk his claws into over the years. Whatever this guy did with these boys, it apparently never failed to work.

“This’ll be the first time you’ll see me fattening a guy from scratch!” Nial grinned, clearly excited by the many weeks and months of work ahead. “You’re going to love it. Those first fifty pounds of blubber are always the sweetest!”

“I’m not sure Ted’s really the right sort of man for that,” Danny began nervously. “He’s so sweet. He doesn’t really deserve…”

Nial simply laughed. “The sweet ones are always the easiest prey!” he shot back. “You’ve seen him. He’s going to look so fucking hot when I push a proper gut out on him. Just imagine that handsome face framed by a delicious double chin!”

Danny mumbled nervously. There was so much he wanted to say to Nial, but given the fact that Nial’s family owned the house they shared, the balance of power didn’t always seem equal. More than once, Nial had threatened to throw him out after a relatively minor disagreement. Cheap rooms in this part of the city were incredibly rare. If he wanted to keep a roof over his head, it wouldn’t do to challenge Nial. And so, if Danny was going to protect Ted in the way he felt compelled to do, he would have to be smarter about it.

There wasn’t anything particularly smart about Danny’s plan. It had been sheer dumb luck that the massive container of diet pills his mother had given up on just so happened to be the exact same shape and size as the appetite enhancers he knew Nial used to ensure his lovers overate. Swapping them had been simple; his scheming unnoticed. However, it meant that when Ted would come over after his work, Danny could at least look him in the eye, knowing that he was trying to do some good for him.

“That looks incredible!” Ted gasped, seeing the immaculately decorated cake Danny had prepared for his sister’s engagement party that weekend. “I had no idea you were so talented!”

Danny blushed. He was quite pleased with how it had turned out, but the way Ted looked at him with such awe made him squirm with embarrassment. Surely Ted would be able to tell how quietly smitten he was by him just from the way he fell to pieces whenever the slightest bit of praise was sent his way. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged.

Ted leaned down and smelt the frosting. “It’s incredible!” he marvelled. “My mouth is literally watering! I’ve just had the most insane sweet tooth for weeks now.”

Danny looked down nervously. He knew how hard Nial had been pushing the sweet treats on Ted. It was no wonder that the guy was getting cravings for sugar. Yet there Ted stood, statuesque and unchanged; unknowingly benefitting from the diet pill’s effect to prevent fat absorption and speed up his youthful metabolism. The other morning, they’d both been embarrassed when Ted was caught strolling out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his lower half. Before that moment, Danny had been convinced that such tight and muscular six packs had only ever existed in the movies.

After Nial had arrived home, Danny returned downstairs to see that a giant slice had been cut out from the cake he had spent all day working on, now resting on a plate in Nial’s hand. Danny had gasped, open mouthed, looking angrily into Nial’s face.

“Relax! It’s just a cake!” Nial shot back irritably.”You can bake another one. I’m taking this one for Ted.”

A few seconds later, Ted came racing into the kitchen, having been presented with the cake slice by Nial and knowing exactly where it had come from. “I’m so sorry!” he called out. “I didn’t realise that Nial was going to cut a slice. I was only telling him how delicious it smelt!”

“It’s fine!” Danny replied calmly back, not wanting to upset the sweet guy. “I said Nial could cut into,” he lied, spotting Nial watching them from behind Ted’s back. “I forgot that one of my sister’s friends is gluten intolerant, so I knew I’d have to remake it.”

“You see, honey. It’s fine,” Nial cooed, rubbing his boyfriend’s large back. “Danny wants you to have that cake. So why don’t you open up and tell him what you think?”

Ted glanced down, picking the fork up from his plate. He looked to Danny one final time to ensure it really was okay, then cut and fed himself a giant section. “Mmm! That is just incredible!” he moaned. “It’s the best cake I’ve ever had!”

Danny really was delighted to hear him say that, even if it meant a long time baking again the next morning, before the party. Perhaps that was why he had always had a thing for chubbier guys in the first place: the idea of bringing them such pleasure, minus the guilt and resistance of a man who was more insistent on keeping in shape.

Victoriously, Nial smirked behind his lover. He really was good at this. So much so that, by the following morning, almost half of the entire cake had been completely consumed.

Arriving back from an all-you-can-eat banquet one evening, Nial was grinning from ear to ear as a bloated Ted was sitting, grumbling as he rubbed his swollen stomach in the living area. Pretty soon afterwards, he drifted off to sleep as Nial played one of his dull reality shows that he was well aware Ted couldn’t stand.

“Look!” Nial whispered as Danny came down for a glass of water, lifting Ted’s shirt up so that the rounded shape of the guy’s stomach could be seen. It was obvious how much the tall man must have eaten to push it out that far, almost to the limits of physics.

Danny nodded, not really knowing why Nial still insisted on showing off like he did. Danny had never encouraged his wicked tactics and had made it quite plain that he didn’t think it was fair. Nevertheless, the guy followed him into the kitchen, overcome with elation and needing to speak to someone.

“Danny, you should have seen him!” Nial marvelled. “It was absolutely grotesque how much he was eating! I was just bringing little dishes back and forth to the table and he mindlessly ate every last one of them. He’s obviously been trained to clear his plate his whole life. He can’t stand wasting food. He’s a proper pig!”

Danny winced at the word. He had never enjoyed hearing Nial use it to describe the man who was obviously so taken with him. “I’ve got my sister coming over tomorrow afternoon. Are you two going to be about?” he asked, trying to change the conversation quickly, just in case he ended up telling Nial what he really thought of his awful manners.

“You’ll have to meet your sister elsewhere,” Nial simply shot back. “It’s Sunday and I have a full day of overeating planned for Ted. I don’t want anyone getting in the way.”

“I thought Ted said you guys were off for a hike tomorrow morning?” Danny asked.

Nial chuckled at that. “I’ll be telling him that I have a migraine in the morning. We won’t be leaving the house.”

“But Ted was really looking forward to taking you up that trail,” Danny protested, always feeling nothing but sympathy for the guy. “It’s where they scattered his family dog’s ashes.”

“As if I want to spend my Sunday hearing stories about some dumb dead dog!!” Nial blasted. “I’ve got an appetite to build. Every day I can get him to eat more and more. Already, he can get down more than a man three times his size. Once I finally destroy the pig’s metabolism, I’m going to witness the most spectacular show on Earth!”

Two weeks later, and still determined to help Ted, Danny crept into Nial’s room to check on the large container he had piled high with diet pills. For over three months, oblivious Ted had been fed one after the other, helping him resist the otherwise inevitable weight gain that would have resulted from the vast quantities he was eating every day. Time and again Danny had witnessed the consumption of overwhelming portions and the decimation of everything Nial was getting in for his lover to consume. Yet, Ted still arrived each and every day looking like none of it was having even the slightest effect on him. With over half the diet pills still in the container, Danny topped it up only very slightly so as not to cause suspicion. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be long now until Nial changed his tactics. Then all of Danny’s work would be lost and Nial would at last have his own way. It was all so inevitable. Pretty soon, Ted was going to have to fend for himself.

“You don’t like Nial all that much, do you?” Ted asked one afternoon during the sweet thirty minutes they had alone together.

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked, surprised by Ted’s bluntness as the guy roamed around the kitchen hoovering up the many stashes of snacks Nial kept in for him.

“It’s just the way you’re so guarded with him,” Ted replied thoughtfully, finally stopping to look at him.

“Is that what Nial thinks?” Danny asked, nervous for both their sakes if it was true that Nial had realised that he didn’t really like him.

“Of course not,” Ted chuckled. “Nial thinks everyone loves him. It’s part of what drew me to him in the first place: that confidence. Now, though, I sometimes feel like he doesn’t even like me. Some days, he can be so short-tempered.”

Danny nodded sympathetically. He’d noticed it too. Nial’s complete failure with Ted over the last six months had made him more irritable than he had ever seen him before. In some ways, he could understand why. Given how many calories Ted was eating in a day and how little cardio he was getting, on paper, the guy should have been piling on the weight like crazy.

“I’ve actually been thinking about moving out,” Danny admitted, checking his watch and seeing that he still had at least fifteen minutes until he needed to worry about Nial getting home and overhearing them. “I’ve been saving so much these last few months, I now have more than enough to get somewhere by myself.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Ted asked, sensing Danny’s hesitancy. The man was so in-tune with Danny; so sensitive and astute. “Wait! You’re sticking around for my sake?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“No… I just…” Danny mumbled back, feeling suddenly like his every movement would give him away. “I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own with Nial,” he tried to reason.

“You really distrust him that much?” Ted asked now.

Danny exhaled, wondering how this conversation had gone so badly wrong so incredibly quickly. “Yeah,” he finally nodded, deciding that the truth was better than attempting a lie that Ted would immediately call him out on. “He’s not good enough for you. Not even the smallest bit. You’re so sweet and kind and thoughtful and calm. Any guy who had you should be…””

What happened next caught Danny off-guard more than any other moment in his life so far. The gorgeous Ted moved closer towards him, cupping Danny’s face in those large, masculine hands, before planting a kiss on his lips like no other Danny had ever experienced. It was followed by a rapid succession of others, more frantic, furious and passionate than the last.

Something dreadful and, at the same time, completely wonderfu,l had just happened

Danny had been the one to insist that Nial was not told. He happily relinquished his love as soon as his housemate got in, and disappeared upstairs. It was only later that he heard Nial complaining that Ted had finished with him.

“Good riddance!” Nial called out bitterly. “He couldn’t even put on a single pound in months!”

“Is that really all you care about?” Danny asked, feeling a little impatient at Nial’s one-dimensional complaints.

“Well, I was hardly with him for his scintillating conversation, was I?” Nial spat back, resurrecting his frequent complaints that he’d actually found Ted to be rather boring. “Six months I wasted on that guy… for nothing!”

Danny rolled his eyes and escaped upstairs. With Ted safely out of harm’s way, there was no need for him to hang around anymore. Already, he had found a place online that he liked the look of. Danny was moving out.

“I want to see you,” Ted had messaged Danny over the coming week. “I can’t believe how much I miss our time together each day.”

Danny had smiled broadly, hardly believing that he held such sweet words from Ted in his own hands. As much as he wanted to run straight into Ted’s arms, he knew it would be wiser and more dignified to hold back. Nial was as clever as they came. Any change in Danny’s routine and he would know that something was up. Then he’d unravel it all and make his life absolute hell, without a place to stay and no family in the city to help him out. And, the worst part was, he’d probably deserve it. Danny felt so much shame for what he had done: kissing Ted when he knew he was with someone else; ultimately causing their break-up. A little cooling-off period was definitely necessary if they truly were to make a go of things. It was best to put everything on ice for now and wait until his new apartment was ready to move into. Five more weeks, that was all. FIve more weeks and he would be free.

Nial hadn’t taken the news that he was moving out particularly well. Danny’s rent money helped to fund his disposable income and the news that his cash-flow was about to decrease had left him more than a little pissed off. As well as that, about a week after finishing with Ted, he’d started sleeping with a chubby guy, called James. The boy was nice enough, however Nial had been distraught to see that he’d actually started to drop a few pounds since they’d got together. He simply couldn’t understand it. Why, after all those years of success stories, had secretly fattening a guy become so difficult? As such, frustrated Nial became almost impossible to live with.

The two housemates weren’t really talking to each other the day Danny moved out. Nial went off to work without saying goodbye and returned home to an empty house, without so much as a forwarding address for his now former housemate. Meanwhile, Danny was grinning from ear to ear as he stroked his sparkling kitchen counter and sat himself down on the brand new couch that had arrived only an hour earlier. Tomorrow, Ted was coming over for the first time since that kiss. The buzz and excitement was almost too much to take. At long last, Danny felt like he was having an entirely fresh start.

“Hello there!” came the deep, alluringly sexy voice of Ted as he stood on the threshold, waiting to be invited in. He gazed at Danny, smiling sweetly, then stepped across to kiss him once more. “This has been the longest six weeks of my life!” he whispered, embracing him as the door swung shut behind them. 

Danny felt so consumed and safe in that hug, completely swallowed up by the big man’s giant arms. Ted was so much shorter than he was. When he held him, Danny could feel his whole, small body starting to relax, allowing himself to be delicate and fragile once more; that hard exterior he had created to get through the last few weeks of living with Nial, crumbling away. They both breathed in and exhaled with relief, perhaps not realising how deep their affection for one another had been until they were parted like this.

Holding the tall man’s hand, Danny led Ted around the apartment, room by room. The sexy man made all the right noises but he wasn’t really listening. He seemed to simply enjoy being in Danny’s company again and listening to his voice. It was something a guy had never done with Danny before, allowing himself to show how smitten he was and abandoning the ego that most men seemed to have. At the sight of Danny’s new, cosy bedroom, Ted smiled happily and kissed him once more, clearly hoping that this would be where they would spend many a happy night, lying side by side.

Pretty soon they were sitting together on the new couch, kissing yet again. Yet something felt odd about it all. Up close like this, Ted’s face was somehow…different. Danny brushed it aside, thinking that he was imagining it all. However, once their hands started to roam more freely onto each other’s bodies, he could tell for certain that Ted was not quite the man he had once been. Slipping his hand down onto Ted’s torso, Danny could feel that the boy had quietly amassed quite a few extra pounds since their kiss, only six weeks ago. When he looked down, a slight paunch was pressing against the material of Ted’s t-shirt, quite startlingly obvious in this sitting position. He kept quiet and carried on, not wanting to make Ted at all self-conscious, acting like it wasn’t even there. Their kisses were so pleasurable anyway, nothing else mattered. 

The pair chatted freely, enjoying not having to worry about anyone bursting in and spoiling their flow. This small, overpriced apartment could be their little piece of heaven; a refuge from everything outside; freedom from everyone who didn’t really matter. Ted got up and helped Danny with some of the remaining flat pack furniture that needed building, laughing as the pair of them couldn’t follow the simple instructions for gazing adoringly into the other’s eyes. How was it that Nial wasn’t completely besotted by this guy? There was such innocence behind those big eyes, his smile so broad and genuine. Even as a teenager, Danny had never felt anything so intense as this.

The pair of them had done well to control themselves up until that point. But as the light faded and Danny pulled out some romantic candles, the temptation to slip into the bedroom became all too much. With their clothes off, it was obvious how Ted had an almost complete absence of any stomach muscles whatsoever; the sides of his once tight waist now fluffy and slightly puffed out; his skin marked by the new, less flattering fit of his underwear. They made love, quite passionately, without any acknowledgement whatsoever of the rather sudden and dramatic weight gain Ted had undergone. Even as the big man thrusted, a fluttering of fresh fat was threatening to steal all of Danny’s attention.

Pleasure, joy and bliss. In that perfect hour, there were only the two of them left on the entire Earth. But as Ted got up to start getting dressed again, Danny had to wonder: just what had happened to him? How could everything Nial had been secretly trying to do to him over months and months, suddenly start happening the very moment that they broke up?

Over the course of the next few days, everything became abundantly clear to Danny. Box by box, carton by carton, Ted had destroyed almost all the meagre supplies in his new kitchen. The man was an eating machine, seeming to uphold the very bad habits that had been trained into him during his time with Nial. He’d head out to the store and return with a full tray of doughnuts that he would then stuff into himself very slowly over the following few hours, alternatively grazing on sweet and then savory snacks. Attempting to count the calories his new lover could consume in a day was near impossible. Danny had little comprehension of how much the guy was quietly eating until he went to the cupboards and noticed how bare they were. Within a further two weeks, the boy’s paunch had swollen up even more, only concealed now when Ted wore his large, warm winter jacket. A more generous bounce and flutter of the stomach began not long afterwards and it became more than apparent how much Ted’s underwear in particular were pinching him.

Although Danny hated to admit his own responsibility, he had to accept that everything that was happening now was entirely of his own making. It was the legacy of those damned diet pills. Whilst they had definitely worked well during the time Ted was taking them, the reality was that by masking the effect of all that overeating, they’d allowed Ted to build up an appetite that was no longer easily quashed. He had been permitted to overeat and indulge in a way that had not produced the slightest consequence for months and months; all whilst quietly enabled and encouraged by a lover who did not have his best interests at heart. Indeed, sometimes, it was really rather strikingly obvious that Ted had unknowingly dated a feeder. He could get aroused alarmingly quickly after a huge boost of sugar and he seemed to think it normal to take a can of whipped cream into the bedroom and squirt it onto Danny’s body before licking every last bit up.

Perhaps Nial had told him how manly and attractive his vast appetite was, for Ted would grin proudly after consuming a particularly large meal and appeared to enjoy the feeling of being so satisfied. He wanted Danny to start baking for him and didn’t seem to think twice about consuming an entire tray of fresh cookies before they had even had the chance to cool down. Despite being the enviable college football star only two years earlier, Ted had seemed to fall into a life of surprisingly lethargic gluttony. After months of speeding up his metabolism, Ted’s whole system had seemingly crashed and he piled on the pounds with almost alarming speed. Once the paunch had properly developed some shape to it, it seemed to become more and more extreme with each passing day. It was firm and shapely, morphing into love handles that wrapped around his middle. 

Ted, who had never been an especially vain man, took it all in his stride. He had come to accept how different his life was now that he was out on his own and working every day. He had to hold down a job at City Hall and maintain his relationship, reasoning that he didn’t really have the time to devote to the gym, as he once would have done. As such, he’d have to understand that he’d be carrying a little more weight. And if Ted’s weight was no great deal to Danny, then why should he stress about it? 

“Nial always used to say that happy folks always gain a few pounds when they’re in love.” Ted chuckled. He patted his stomach, which had recently become firmer and more tank-like than ever before. “I just happen to be very, very in love,” he teased, kissing Danny sweetly as they snuggled into the couch, ready to watch a movie.

The sex had always been amazing with Ted, but as he got heavier, his body became increasingly homely and cosy to snuggle up with. He was warm and padded, safe and relaxing. Even with the insane amount of money Danny was spending on food each week, he knew that he would never find anyone he would want to be with for the rest of his life, as he felt every single moment with Ted.

Danny didn’t know exactly when the threshold had been passed. There seemed to come a time when people were less accepting of Ted’s post-football career chunk, and more disparaging of the significant extra mass he was carrying all over his body. Thirty pounds people could cope with, but try adding sixty or more, and the overwhelming reaction of others was that of significant disapproval. Perhaps it was when Ted’s chest started to soften, away from the traditional pectoral muscles he had had for so many years.

Danny would take it surprisingly personally when he saw Ted’s friends treating him a little differently, or when his family poked fun. Some days, Ted’s mother could be deliberately frosty with Danny himself, blaming all his baking the increasing difficulties her son was having with his weight.

It appeared to frustrate people how relaxed Ted was about his chubbier physique. The guy was too practical for his own good. When his underwear or pants became too tight, he simply bought new ones. When people were unkind about his weight, he’d only shrug and roll his eyes. “What business is it of theirs?” he’d ask, quite rightly. Some days he did try to eat more sensibly, but he also didn’t lose any sleep on those other days when he had clearly overdone it. Again, Danny had to remind himself that he had no idea what Nial had quietly done during the time they had dated. For all he knew, the guy could have been streaming some hypnotic recording into Ted’s ears as he slept, reinforcing the need to overeat and helping him accept the inevitable changes that would occur as a result. Indeed, despite living with him for over a year, Nial’s actual methods still remained a complete mystery.

It seemed strange to admit, but it was easy to become blind to just how much Ted overate. The giant portions didn’t seem so extreme anymore and the casual snacking was just something Ted did. The guy was so big and tall; of course he was going to need to eat a lot more than most folks. Practically living with Danny now, the cupboards were filled with the things that the big man enjoyed and a large, ugly, reclining chair had appeared in front of the TV where Ted would park himself to play the games console that Nial had been responsible for getting him into.

“Are you really sure about Ted?” asked Danny’s mother one day, noting the way her son’s hard-earned, stylish apartment was beginning to evolve into a space that was clearly inhabited by a fat guy: the smell of stale cheese from the emptied pizza boxes still on the kitchen counter; the generous heap of sugary snacks piled up beside Ted’s chair. “I know he’s a lovely boy, but it’s quite obvious that he’s the type of person who is always going to struggle with his weight.”

Danny bristled with irritation. “Ted could weigh six hundred pounds and I’d still love him,” he answered defiantly.

His mother simply stared at the pile of fresh laundry that Danny was sorting as he tried to ignore her concerns: the new, wavy, withered waistband of Ted’s tortured underwear. “The problem is,” she sighed, “I think that’s exactly where he may end up.”

It had been almost a year since Danny had moved out of Nial’s place, yet the shadow of him loomed within his mind on a daily basis. Danny hated how he had such a wonderful relationship with Ted, yet was still having to keep this dreadful secret about everything that had really happened behind the scenes. If Danny began to explain even one small part of it all, it would be inevitable that his conscience would lead him on to detailing his own despicable part in ultimately crashing Ted’s metabolism; sending him on this journey of seemingly never-ending and remarkably rapid weight gain.

“You’ll never guess who I saw today!” Ted announced, getting in that evening and throwing off his tie.

Danny’s heart sank. He knew the day was coming and every muscle in his body tensed as he watched his lover form Nial’s name with his lips. “What did you say to him?” he asked nervously.

As was usual at this time, Ted went over to the cookie jar and began loading his hand with several treats to take back with him to his chair. “He was surprisingly chatty and friendly,” Ted beamed, pleased that they had all seemingly moved on from the hostility of that break-up.

“Did you tell him about us?” Danny asked, still hoping for a miracle.

“Yeah! And he was absolutely fine about it!” Ted nodded happily, trying to reassure his boyfriend. “He was really pleased for us. In fact, he wants to come over some time and drop off a box of your things he’s found after you moved out.”

Danny spotted the lie straight away. He had checked and double-checked every last inch of that place to ensure that absolutely nothing was left behind.“Did you give him my address?” he asked, trying to conceal the horror in his voice.

Ted nodded. “He said he’d misplaced it, so I wrote it down for him again. He seemed super keen to get back in touch with you.”

Danny nodded, smiling with his mouth despite the whirring of brain cells behind his eyes and the gentle sweat that was creeping over his body. Why had he allowed Ted to go into work in such a tight shirt today? The buttons were so stressed and tortured by the giant stomach, well underway in its construction. Of course such attire would make Ted stand out more in the crowds; it made people stare and look. Folks who may have casually walked by suddenly stopped and studied, recognising someone they used to know… Such a change would have ignited Nial’s curiosity to learn every last detail about what had happened to Ted since their break-up. Perhaps he would want him back? Maybe he thought Danny had done this to him? That this whole thing had been orchestrated since Day One?

Whatever the motives, the feeder would soon be back in all their lives. After all this time, Nial was about to find out everything.

It would have been an easy bet that Nial would arrive the very next morning, well aware that Danny would be working from home and that Ted would be out. Indeed, the guy had made it into the building without calling to be buzzed in, then knocked gently at the door, just like Mrs Lee across the hallway. Suddenly, there he was, right in front of Danny’s eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“You know…” the guy began, strutting in without an invitation, “...people used to ask me why we were friends. You’re not interesting, particularly clever or funny…”

Danny sighed, feeling like he was only an observer in his own body; powerless to stop whatever move Nial was about to play.

“I told them!” Nial smirked. “I said to them, ‘Danny’s got a lot more about him than you realise!’ I warned them all that there was a devilish streak behind the mundane exterior. And I was absolutely right, wasn’t I?”

“What do you want, Nial?” Danny grunted, still holding the door open in the hope that he could get the guy out as soon as possible.

Nial laughed as he saw a pair of Ted’s pants draped over the back of one of the chairs. He picked them up and whistled in appreciation of their size. “”Fuck me! Look at these!” he laughed. “Looks like old Teddy-Boy has let himself go a bit! When I saw him yesterday, I could hardly believe my eyes. That stomach!” he laughed wickedly. “And the tits are beautiful by the way. I definitely need to congratulate you on those. You’ve clearly been working exceedingly hard to fatten him up.”

Danny quickly shut the door, not wanting anyone to overhear a single word. “I’m not like that!” he shot back. “I’m not like you. I never have been.”

“First of all, you stole my boyfriend from me. So don’t be playing the innocent card here!” Nial suddenly flared up; his patience evaporating. “Secondly, are you really trying to convince yourself that you’re not every bit as twisted as I am? I was thinking about it all night. I bet they hate you, don’t they? His whole family was so stuck up. I bet they despise you now you’ve done this to their little prince. He’s so tall, I bet he’s even heavier than he looks. What is he now? 350lbs? 360?”

Danny didn’t know how to reply. Yet in his silence was everything Nial needed.

“I could tell them all, you know. No one wants a feeder in the family. One phone call and this whole false world you’ve built together would come crashing down.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” Danny argued back, sensing his worst fears coming to life.

“Of course you have! Look at him! He’s a walking, talking human-pig!”

“Don’t call him that!” Danny growled.

“I’ll call him whatever the fuck I like,” Nial hit back defiantly. “He was mine long before you started to sink your claws into him. I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll tell his family everything. Ted is such a mommy’s boy, he’d end it with you the second his mother told him to.”

“Why would anyone believe a single nasty word that came out of your mouth?” Danny argued back, actually raising his voice a little, so palpable was his fury. For over a year he had had to live with the knowledge of the sordid deeds he had played his part in. It was a looming darkness that threatened to destroy the beautiful happiness that he in no way deserved.

“Because it wouldn’t be the words coming out of my mouth that they would be listening to,” Nial smirked back. He pulled out his cell phone and began scrolling back to his and Nial’s messages to each other from over two years ago, when they had first met. Back then, it had been a revelation to discover anyone else who liked their men with a little more weight on them. Danny remembered how captivated he had been by Nial at the time. It felt so freeing to be able to discuss his love of those chubbier physiques as Nial found pictures of fat guys online and sent them over for him to rate.

“He’s cute…” came the tinny recorded tones of Danny on the voice note, “...but he’d be even cuter with another fifty pounds on him.”

Nial grinned and scrolled to the next; another fat guy picture that needed rating.

“That belly is so damn hot! I just want to rub it and feed him doughnuts all through the night!” a long ago, naive Danny had said.

Triumphantly, Nial put his cell phone back in his pocket. He could have gone on for hours playing those voice notes. There would have been hundreds of them; each one more incriminating than the last.

“What do you want?” Danny sighed, knowing when he had been beaten.

Pleased to see Danny cooperating at last, Nial sat himself down and got comfortable. “I want to know how you did it. I put more effort into fattening Ted than anyone else I’ve ever dated. Then you came along and packed over one hundred pounds on him in just over a year.”

“But if I tell you, you’re just going to do it to other guys, and this whole cycle will just go on and on…”

Nial held up his hands and laughed wickedly. “You’ve got me there!” he nodded. “That is exactly what I want. I need to recreate whatever it is you’re doing with every single guy I sleep with.” 

Despite his smug appearance, Nial was clearly aware that Danny was more than a little uncomfortable by the idea. Danny had to think fast. He knew that he couldn’t tell Nial about the diet pills, no matter what. He couldn’t sink to Nial’s level and pile on even more guilt than he already felt. Instead, he headed off to the bedroom and quickly scribbled down something that he hoped would get Nial off his back, if only for a short time.

“What’s this?” Nial grunted, presented with a single, folded piece of paper.

“It’s my shake recipe,” Danny explained, having been inspired by the dusty pair of Ted’s dumbbells that lay unused by the couch. “Ted trains with weights and each time he does, I feed him this fake protein shake. It floods his body with calories and builds the appetite like you won’t believe,” he lied.

Nial looked sceptically back at him. “What, and he just continues to drink them? Even with how fat he’s clearly gotten?”

“He trusts me,” Danny shrugged, knowing that his lies were deeply flawed. But what other choice did he have?

At that, Nial smirked and slipped the paper into his back pocket, seemingly satisfied. “It’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for!” he chuckled, almost proudly at how Danny had turned out to be so seemingly cruel and wicked. “I’ll be keeping a keen eye on you from now on. If these shakes really work as you say they do, Ted is going to keep on getting fat as fuck.”

“He will,” Danny nodded, ready to say anything that would convince Nial that he didn’t need to stick around and press him for further details. “You’ll see. I’m not lying. This recipe really does work!”

Trying to refocus back on Danny’s work after Nial left was completely impossible. In his mind, Danny tried to play out every single scenario of what could happen next. He hadn’t seen the last of Nial; of that he was certain. It was all so frustrating! This sort of drama was not what he wanted in life and he cursed himself for every wrong turn he had ever taken that had brought him here.

When Ted got home, he headed straight over to the refrigerator and began his early snacking, grunting as he parked his increasingly hefty rear in his seat and turning on his games console.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Danny smiled, handing his man a cool beer. Despite all the pleasures he took in looking after Ted so well, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the moment Nial decided to light the match.

Ted and Danny had been on vacation at the time of the proposal. Unbeknownst to Danny, Ted had arranged the whole thing: the amazing tour of the island, followed by a meal at the fanciest restaurant they’d ever been to, where Ted then got down on one knee and popped the question. Of course Dany had said yes straight away. There was no part of him that even questioned his desire to be with the oversized man forever.

Despite the many miles they had travelled to be there, so much of the trip had been consumed by long hours of passion in the bedroom. The food was so readily available and Ted didn’t seem to have the slightest hang up about his weight as he strutted about with his large gut jiggling as he went. He’d dive into the pool, not realising how much of an inelegant splash he created, quietly frustrating those lounging at the side.

Upon their return home, Ted’s pants failed to close and it was obvious that a massive spike in his weight had occurred in only two short weeks. Ted’s complete descent into obesity was cemented as his hips widened and his thighs rocked with fresh lard. The previous solidness of his swollen middle had been replaced by a layer that was significantly softer and plusher. Giant love handles draped over his belt buckle and his back had broadened further as the fat from his chest now carried very heavily under his arms. And those arms of his! So large and wide, pumped full of new softness. Danny felt so safe and secure within them.

“What are the chances of bumping into you two here?” came a voice that Danny had dreaded. 

Nial suddenly sprang out at them as they strolled about at a venue they were considering for their wedding. Ted quietly huffed in disappointment. Their romantic day of visiting potential locations had been interrupted in the most unexpected way possible. 

“I hear congratulations are in order?” Nial beamed, looking from one to the other. “We’d be delighted to host your wedding here. I’m sure I can offer you very generous rates.”

Both of them were shocked to see that Nial not only worked there, but was actually managing this prestigious venue these days. They awkwardly followed along as Ted’s ex led the way through the building, giving them the big sell. His butt was so tight and handsome in those dress pants; surely Ted must be admiring it with at least a little longing?

“I can just imagine you two having your first dance here; Ted looking all handsome in his suit,” Nial smiled playfully. Was he actually doing it? Was he actually flirting with Ted right in front of Danny?

Ted squirmed awkwardly, heading off to the restroom for a quick break from it all. There was no way on Earth they would be having their wedding here if this was where Nial now worked. This had been Ted’s choice to visit here. Or had it? Now that Danny thought about it, he didn’t really know how it was that the assistant manager had come to call him up in order to arrange this appointment in the first place.

“You absolute fucking liar!” Nial laughed the moment Ted was out of earshot; the pair of them watching the man’s wide rear as he disappeared away and turned sideways in order to get through one of the doors. ��Look at him! There’s no way you did that with just those shakes. I saw the pictures of you two on that vacation. You turned my Ted into pure blubber!”

“He’s not yours!” Danny growled, unable to let that one go. “I don’t want to talk about any of this now,” He sighed impatiently. He’d spent all week looking forward to today; a step towards the future, not a prison ship sailing him back into his dubious, murky past.

“There’s barely even four hundred calories in that shake recipe you wrote down. I added it all up and knew straight away that it was a load of bullshit. You’re a liar, as well as a thief!”

“I am not!” Danny argued, turning to walk into the lounge area where it was too filled with listening ears for Nial to continue trying to press this type of conversation.

“You’ve got one week,” Nial simply stated, not even attempting to chase after Danny. “You tell me what you’re doingto make him so fucking fat, or I make sure everyone knows what a kinky little freak you really are.”

Danny didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t sleep the night after either. His mind was whirring with a panicked frenzy, trying to think about how he could escape this pincer grip he felt ensnared by.

Can we talk?” Danny asked his fiance, exhausted by so little sleep that Monday evening.

Ted smiled, patting his knee for Danny to sit with him, just as they usually did. However, this time, everything Danny had to say was far too serious to discuss whilst perching on Ted’s knee. He placed himself on the edge of the couch, clearly setting Ted’s nerves on edge as he spotted the fear and panic in his lover’s eyes. “Did Nial say something on Saturday?” he asked instinctively. “You’ve been so weird since we bumped into him.”

Danny rolled his eyes. If only it had been as simple as a lone snarky comment from a jealous former friend. If only Satruday had been a genuine, coincidental reunion between old housemates and lovers. But Nial was too calculating for that.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Ted pressed, seeing that Danny would need a little nudging along in this conversation. “Nial said something to you?”

Danny exhaled. He’d practised the wording all afternoon, yet it still didn’t sound right even as it passed through his lips. “Nial seems to have it in his head that your weight gain is my fault.”

Ted chuckled. “And there was me thinking how nice he was not to comment on how fat I’ve gotten since we dated.”

“Oh, he’s noticed alright!” Danny sighed. “He wants to tell your whole family that I’m some sort of feeder.”

Ted frowned; the unusual shift seemingly sucking all joy and humour out of the conversation. He stayed quiet, waiting for Danny to elaborate.

“There’s something that happened long ago that I’ve been keeping from you,” Danny began, feeling his heart beating fast. “When you hear about it, there’s no going back. It’ll ruin everything!”

Poor Ted. He was such a nice boy. Even now he seemed genuinely heartbroken to see Danny so upset. He reached out a hand across to him, wanting to hold his hand in his and comfort him.

Danny took the large palm, but forced himself to look Ted straight in the eye. “You see… I may not be a feeder, but… it is my error that you’re so overweight. It’s all completely my fault…”

Soon afterwards, Ted pulled his hand back. Bit by bit, the entire truth came out; every last sickening detail. He stared at Danny as if seeing him for the very first time; as if he didn’t really know him at all.

Danny was extremely low for the next couple of days and in no mood to see a perky-looking Nial grinning happily at him when he opened his door one early evening. The man was holding a giant cream-filled cake in a large card box and he strolled in once again without a word of invitation. “Is Fat Boy home yet?” he asked with surprising volume.

Danny simply sighed. He didn’t care about Nial’s games anymore and he wasn’t about to give the guy the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “If you’re referring to Ted, no; I don’t know what time he’ll be back,” he replied, checking his watch and seeing that Ted was probably staying out late again, just as he had done for the last couple of nights, without letting Danny know.

“Well, call him up!” Nial insisted. “I want to see his face when I tell him what I’ve got to say.”

Danny felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside of him. Couldn’t Nial see the bedsheets by the couch where Ted had been sleeping the last couple of nights? The guy had always been so consumed by himself, without a thought to the havok that he wreaked all around him; setting his large cake on the kitchen counter as if moving the next piece on his imaginary chess board. Watching him, Danny’s face contorted in frustration as he prepared to unleash his tongue, explaining to Nial exactly how fucked up all these lies had made everything. He took in a huge breath, ready to begin, when the door suddenly opened and in walked Ted, confused to see Nial standing in their living room.

“Ah, there he is!” Nial smiled, sliding over to the big man like a slithering snake. “Danny invited me over to discuss the extra discounts we could offer on your wedding,” he lied.

Behind Nial’s back, Danny simply shook his head. Letting Ted know that this was yet another one of the guy’s lies.

“That’s… “ Ted began sounding surprisingly calm, despite all the horrible things he had now learned about his ex. “We’re actually still undecided on the wedding.” 

Feeling glum, Danny held it together in front of Nial. it wasn’t just the wedding that was in peril; his whole relationship felt like it was crumbling. However, with Nial there before them, Ted suddenly strutted over and kissed him sweetly on the head just as he always used to, until recently; perhaps trying to show some sort of united front with their mutual enemy.

“I’m guessing that you brought the cake?” Ted asked, staring down at the large cream-filled dessert that had been placed on the kitchen counter.

“I remembered that this was always your favorite!” Nial beamed back.

Ted nodded, dropping his hand into the box and ripping off a big section to eat there and then. “Absolutely!” he nodded. “I started going crazy for these sorts of treats when we were dating,” he agreed, speaking as he chewed. “That’s probably why I’m so enormous these days,” he pretended to joke, patting his fat tummy as if happy to poke fun at himself.

Inside, Danny squirmed, wondering where all this was possibly leading.

“That is some seriously good cake!,” Ted nodded, licking his fingers and happy to dive his hand back in for more.”

“Perhaps Danny will have to start making you some just like this?” Nial smirked, seeming pleased to see the fat man eating. “I remember he had some good baking skills back when we used to live together.”

“Oh, he does!” Ted chuckled. “Whatever I ask for, he whips up for me in no time.” He reached into the drawer, grabbing himself a fork before pulling out the entire cake to start attacking it alone; that whole, giant cake, without any intention of sharing. “I’m in very good hands.”

Nial looked to Danny, seemingly impressed. No man would start gorging on an entire cake, like Ted currently was, without some serious, sustained overfeeding in the past. The whole process seemed so effortless as well; forkful by forkful, the greedy man was consuming it all without even a glass of water to wash it down. 

As he ate, Ted was listing off all the amazing bakes he enjoyed most that Danny made. He spoke about it all with such enthusiasm that his giant, tank-like stomach no longer seemed so misplaced on him. The man removed his work tie, leaned over the counter, making that large gut fall out from the bottom of his stretched shirt, and continued the assault as if it was too exhausting for him to stay entirely upright. The next time he did stand up tall, he brought with him the platter that the former cake had been sitting on, scraping the entirety of the messy remains straight into his gluttonous mouth.

“I’m going to leave you guys to it,” Ted announced afterwards. “I’ll do a couple of minutes of my weights and then head into the shower.” He then turned specifically to Danny. “Honey, do you mind making up one of my protein shakes for when I’ve finished?.”

At that moment, Danny realised exactly what this whole performance had all been about. Just like that, Ted was fixing all the problems that Danny had been facing for months now. Revenge was beneath them both. A war with Nial would quickly get very messy; especially if he was going to start involving Ted’s family. It would be far easier to simply convince the guy that everything Danny had told him about the fake protein shakes was absolutely true: that Danny really was a genuine feeder and nothing more.

“Sure. I’ll have that ready for you shortly,” Danny smiled back, accepting another sweet kiss on his head from the big man before he disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.

“Well…” Nial breathed, clearly still in shock. “I never imagined in a million years that…”

“I don’t want you coming around here anymore,” Danny jumped in impatiently. With Ted’s exit, he had passed Danny the baton to deal with Nial once and for all; to prove himself. As such, it was not an opportunity that he had any intention of wasting. 

Nial seemed taken aback by the assertiveness behind Danny’s voice.

“You’ve seen what you wanted to see. I’m not lying to you about anything. It’s time to go our separate ways. For good,” he stated without a hint of compromise.

“I actually quite enjoy seeing what a handsome chub you’re making. Ted is…”

“Mine,” Danny jumped in, unwilling to indulge Nial’s ramblings. “You had your chance and you squandered it. Jealousy is not a good look on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” Nial growled back, obviously wounded by the suggestion. “I have a whole load of future fatties I could play with whenever I want.”

“Like that hot little barman I saw you making eyes at in your work the other day?” Danny asked knowingly. “I wonder what he would have to say if I told him all the many, many tales I have about you. Shit like that spreads around a workplace like you wouldn’t believe.”

Nial stared him out for a second, before nodding. “Fine,” he spat, trying to portray an air of apathy. “I’ll leave you alone. But I’m not wrong about those protein shakes. You’d get much better results if you…”

“My results speak for themselves,” Danny hit back, opening the front door and pointing for the houseguest to leave. Nial looked as if he wanted to say something in response as he stepped through it, however the door was slammed so quickly and unceremoniously shut afterwards, there wasn’t a hope of stopping it.

Danny rested his head against the door. The blackmail was over. Yet, in its wake was a problem far worse than any other he had ever come across. It hadn’t been the diet pills that had angered Ted. Anyone could see that Danny had, in his own, slightly misguided way, been trying to help the situation. No, it had been the secrets that had disappointed Ted; the fact that this problem had been allowed to grow and fester for so long, until it had become a monster that threatened their whole relationship.

“I take it he’s gone?” came a soft voice as a shirtless Ted stepped out of the bedroom. “Problem solved?” he asked.

“He’s not coming back. No,” Danny replied, gratefully. “I’m sorry you had to eat an entire cake just to get me off the hook,” he tried to joke.

Ted smiled for the first time in days. “I actually quite enjoyed that part,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “You know what I’m like when it comes to cake.”

Danny nodded happily as Ted came close enough to embrace; that enormous, powerful, soft and cuddly body swallowing him up once more. Had he actually been forgiven?

“There is one good thing to come out of all of this,” Ted explained, stepping back slightly. “At least I know you do genuinely enjoy my body these days,” he laughed, grabbing at a huge wedge of his giant stomach.

“Oh…” Danny grinned, gazing at his man with complete awe and lust, “I absolutely do!” he nodded emphatically.

Ted smirked back, suddenly reaching down and sweeping Danny off his feet to hold him in his arms. “Good. Because now we’re getting married, this fat guy is going to be yours for life!” The pair kissed passionately, both relieved to have worked through everything. “And, to celebrate that fact, I’m going to take you into our bedroom and show you exactly what us big boys can do…” he whispered teasingly. “Then you can come out and cook me a nice, big supper, given that I’m going to be building up quite the appetite!”

“I think I can handle that!” Danny winked, kissing his huge, greedy lover once more. Then off they both went into the bedroom, closing that door firmly behind them.

[monolotus]

°˖✧◝ (𝘾𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨) ◜✧˖°

includes: mentions of a fight, vernon being an apologetic puppy, mention of Hoshi

Your hands are shaking. You’ve been in the bathroom for ten minutes, and you can’t calm down, it doesn’t matter how much you splash water onto your face, or how many breathing exercises you do.

You can’t come out of the bathroom though, you won’t let your boyfriend see you like this.

Couples fight all the time, right? So it shouldn’t shake you so much this one argument you’ve had with Vernon. But you can’t help it, he has raised his voice towards you, chuckling when you would try to defend yourself. It was a dumb argument, too. Little things that had been bothered you two during the week ended up collapsing against each other, even if you had nothing to do with it.

You go past him, towards the kitchten. Is really hard to ignore his gaze on you, scanning every movement as you make your dinner.

Maybe is the sound of the knife against the cut board, but you can’t help look towards your boyfriend as you start chopping the onions.

As you rub your eye, you can only curse realizing you touched the onion with the same hand you have in your eye. Cursing, you try washing your hands, before you can dodge it a new pair of hands take the hand towel you kept close to the sink, dampening it on warm water.

You tried closing your eye, as Vernon kept applying a soft pressure with the towel on the damaged eye.

“I’m sorry” he murmured “I overreacted, i shouldn’t have raised my voice”

Feeling tears welling up to your eyes, you whispered it was the onion’s fault. Seeing his shy smile you took the towel between your hands, still acting annoyed. Turning back to your food, you kept chopping the veggies, feeling Vernon’s chin finding its place on top of your shoulder.

“We’re both adults, i should’ve talked things out earlier, and i shouldn’t be so… peevish towards you just because i got stressed out from practice.” With each apology, he would place sweet, short kisses on whatever exposed skin he could reach: behind your ear, on your shoulder, your neck.

“Mh, I will tell Hoshi. He should kick your ass tomorrow” you weren’t going to accept so quickly, no way.

“You’re so right. Let me grab my phone so you can send him a voice note explaining why i should do a hundred runs of the coreo tomorrow” Being always the first to apologize, Vernon knows exactly where and how to kiss you for you to melt, at least a little, between his arms.

With a sigh, you turn around. Being kept between the countertop and his body. Taking his face in your hands, you make sure he is looking at you.

“This will be the first and last time you don’t talk things out, get it?” Nodding energetically, the only expression on your boyfriend’s face is pure need: of kisses, forgiveness and maybe a nice dinner. Who knows.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

I'll Always Be Here

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 867 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, implied nudity, soft Sylus, taking care of him

------------------------------------

Sylus leaned on the doorway, watching you lay in bed. You hadn’t left the bed in days and he was starting to seriously worry about you. 

“Kitten,” he said softly as he walked to the bed to sit on the edge. “You need to get up… just for a little bit… take a bath, eat something.” he said.

You didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound. He sighed. As much as he didn’t want to, he decided it was for your best; he gently pulled the blankets off before picking you up bridal style. Your eyes were devoid of emotion, looking glazed over and unfocused. He turned on the water with one hand, dumping a little soap in as well which bubbled quickly. He set you on the counter, his touch was light as he took your clothes off. You didn’t look at him but you didn’t resist him either. The water steamed and bubbled just the way he knew you liked; he picked you up and placed you in, his arms staying wrapped around you until you were gently laid all the way down. You wrapped your arms around yourself. It was the first time Sylus had seen you move in days. He leaned his head on his arms which were resting on the side of the tub.

“I feel so numb Sylus.” you whispered, still not looking at him. Silent tears fell from your already puffy eyes. 

He perked up at the sound of your voice, not hearing it for the last three days. It was a bittersweet feeling. He always loved hearing you talk but when you said such damning things it broke his heart. 

“Like I don’t want to be here anymore.” you mumbled before slipping down in the tub to rest completely on the bottom. Everything felt peaceful here, quiet and weightless. You could see how concern covered his face. You hated falling into these lows, they made you hopeless and desperate for an end to life. It was the easiest and most permanent option your brain could think of. When the need for air was too much you rose out of the water, resting against the tub again. “I’m scared of myself Sy…” 

His eyes were soft, pleading with you. “I know honey… and I wish I could do something about it. But I'll tell you this,” he said, sliding his hand to hold your face reassuringly, “I am a selfish man - so I will do everything in my power to help you, keep you safe and happy. You are all that matters to me. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” he said.

You leaned into his palm, tears and sobs leaving you. You curled into him, half in the tub and half out. His crisp white shirt soaked through but he couldn’t care less as his strong arms wrapped around you. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply. He hadn’t touched you in days, he felt so touch starved he never wanted to leave your arms. “I’ll always be here for you. To keep you and love you always.” he said into your neck before placing a soft kiss right below your ear. 

You tightened your hold on him. You don’t know how or why the universe brought such opposite people together, much less made them fall madly in love but who were you to question it? All you were in this moment was grateful. You weren't in this alone anymore, Sylus was the light you needed, whenever you needed him.

He let go of you before moving to get the washcloth and bar of soap. Neither of you spoke as he washed your body or scrubbed the suds into your hair. Every touch was deliberate and delicate. You felt yourself feel slightly less heavy, a little more… human. 

When the bath was tepid and your fingers started to prune Sylus helped you step out before wrapping you in a towel. You walked back into the bedroom, Sylus holding your waist just for the comfort of knowing he was there. As you dried off he went to the closet before returning with one of his massive shirts and a pair of underwear for you. Once dressed you slowly slid back into the bed.

Sylus sighed quietly, he was proud you bathed, talked, and moved today; he didn’t want to push it. He leaned down, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to get you some food and water, I’ll be right back.” he said, thumbing over your cheek. 

You turned on the tv, flipping on a favorite comedy of yours to try and cheer yourself up. Sylus returned after a moment, setting down multiple different snacks before handing you a bottle of water. He took his shirt and dress pants off before climbing into bed in his boxers. You instinctively scooted into his arms, his warmth radiating off him, enveloping you completely. His steady heart beat and his hand massaging your scalp lulled you to sleep. A restful sleep unlike the despair sleeps you had been having so regularly. 

Sylus kissed your head, keeping you close. Trying to protect you from anything and everything, including yourself.

----------------------------

Naboo's Note:

I hope ya'll enjoy, I've been pretty down in the dumps as of late and I'd love for this man to just comfort the shit out of me rn. I love ya'll so much and I'll post again soon. Stay safe and be well :) XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!!

[josiebelladonna]

^that last one made me think of stranger things. Remember back in 2022 how fucking ubiquitous, pervasive, and inescapable that season was (and to the point it was starting to piss me off because none of the kids look like kids anymore, it was sneaking into tags it had no business sneaking into, and it felt like it was becoming more about the music than… actually being watchable and having a memorable storyline, god forbid—granted, it was one of the best soundtracks in a long time, but it came as a bonus in the first two seasons, so that’s not the point)? Now, I’ll see some offhand fics here and there in the fanfic tags, but that’s about it—add to this, everything I see about this final season is, um… don’t get your hopes up. In other words, I fully expect there to be an avalanche of fix-it fics and more fics surrounding Eddie Muenster whatever his name is once the season hits, and then it’ll disappear again.

I guess last year there was a rebirth of the House, M.D. fandom, a fandom which I didn’t even know existed when I was watching that show when it was going and even when it ended back in 2012. Key phrase there is “last year”: I haven’t seen anything about it since like November.

Dan and Phil is another one. I don’t have any idea who they are (I could never get into YouTubers) but every other post on my dash now is about them, and all I can think is “I won’t see them two months from now.”

You also have the strange case of me: start a previously not-catalogued fandom from the ground up and it goes well for a few months, and then something happens to me where I need to speak out, and then all of a sudden POOF! Everyone loses respect and I feel like I have to leave after a time, even if I’m still very much in the zone—especially if I’m still very much in the zone. “Ew, no, she’s obsessed and delusional and unstable, let’s start our own hub in another place and do better than her.” Yeah, and then your bullshit ____ x reader fics from last summer fall by the wayside whereas one of my longfics which I started back in 2022 is still rolling because I’m not callous enough to do it for spite.

They cannibalize the fandom and also the people who make it. They treat it like it’s a thing to be consumed and given to their peers, hence the popularity of the “reader insert” fanfic (which I hate with a passion for this reason), and someone like me, someone who’s actually a fan, is seen as a psychopath, not realizing that this is killing fandom and making the “creator” feel (ab)used. I soldier on because I’m a fan and I love the men involved, dammit.

More used feelings by calling me a “creator”, too, as that is a word that is thrown around way too lightly and shortchanges someone like me by glossing over our craft. I’m an artist and a writer and a baker, I am NOT a creator.

[akawifeyy]

silly girl | smau (LN4)

description: the life of a comedian is full of laughter, but the biggest punchline? your experience with love.

tropes: chaos galore, he's obsessed with her, sunshine x sunshine, age gap (23 and 25), comedian!fem!reader

face claim: faith collins

trigger warnings: suggestive content, some mature jokes, swearing

| note: hehehe i love this fic 🫶

@ yourusername: dallas was incredible, i had the best time laughing with you all! a recorded video of tonight's show is posted at the link in my bio if you couldn't make it. see you next weekend in austin 😘

tagged: @ standupcomedy

comments (2567):

@ user1: Amazing shows! I went to Night 2 and I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Wish I bought tickets for the other two nights.

-> @ user2: sooo real, i got to see her in miami and i felt like my heart was going to explode from laughing

@ user3: Incredible job, so proud 💖

@ user4: Mother has fed us during this tour, I never want it to end

@ yourbffusername: SCREAMING CRYING, I love you SO much Y/N

@ f1: Just 3 more days until COTA! How are you gearing up for the Grand Prix?

tagged: @ mclaren, @ mercedes, @ redbullracing, & 6 more

comments (49584):

@ landonorris: Can't wait to be a cowboy again 🤠

@ user5: COTAAAA MY BELOVED

@ user6: so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@ user7: No because I'm actually a second away from crashing out because I just realized @ yourusername's show is at the same time as the Austin GP

-> @ user8: wait nonono you're joking 😭 i bought tickets too

10/19/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: I feel like if I don't bring this up, the masses are going to come at me with pitchforks. (clearing throat) Today's a pretty big day in Austin. Um, Formula One is having its COTA Grand Prix.

Audience members: (whooping)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, looks like we have quite a few F1 fans in here. I'd kind of consider myself one, but please don't ask me what DRS stands for off the top of my head or what Ferrari's strategies are during races, because I wouldn't be able to tell you. But anyways, I found out that I scheduled this show at the same time as the GP.

Audience member: (loud yelling noise)

Y/N L/N: (breaks down laughing) Yep, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But I totally get it. Seeing a bunch of rich, hot men drive around in circles? Like, aw man, where did my pants go? I swear they were just on. (continues giggling) Seriously, though, some of those drivers? It should be illegal how attractive they are. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris. Oh God, don't even get me started on Lando Norris.

Y/N L/N: (eyes widen dramatically) I never liked brunettes or Englishmen, but he might just make me change my mind.

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: Have you seen the clips from Y/N L/N's most recent comedy show here in Austin?

Lando Norris: (laughs) Yes, I heard about it!

Interviewer: Thoughts?

Lando Norris: She's very funny. I like her sense of humor. But as for relationships, I have to focus on my racing, so I can't get distracted. Sorry!

10/20/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: So... Yesterday's show. (makes popping sound with lips) Some of y'all, I feel like I need to ban you – and before you boo, let me explain why. I made jokes about Formula One drivers, and how hot they are, and a select few of you decided to out me? (mock gasp)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, I know! Fucking Lando Norris was interviewed about me! Isn't that insane? This ultra-rich motor sport driver was asked about some redhead girl who yaps for a living. And he called me funny? I need to put this on my resume.

Audience member: You two need to date!

Y/N L/N: The matchmaking is insane. Oh God, wait until my mother hears about this, then I'm actually cooked. I'm 23 years old, I have a lot of biological time left, but you're vultures! When is it going to end? And don't say, "When you get married to Lando Norris", because it's not happening. Sadly.

@ ynupdates: Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did have a boyfriend! This was way back in 2019 to 2022. His name is Emmett Ellgren, and they dated for three years until their mutual split. Since then, Y/N has poked fun at the relationship, but no substantial details have been released about their break up.

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (2942):

@ user9: HELP i forgot about emmett he's such an npc 😮‍💨

@ user10: emmett is no longer relevant to the lore

-> @ user2: The real man we should be paying attention to is Lando Norris

-> @ user8: i know omg 😭

comments (3842):

@ user11: They're both silly gooses, I'm scared to see the havoc they'll wreak together in McLaren 🥲

@ user12: i'll believe it when i see it

@ user13: Lando is too immature to have a stable girlfriend

-> @ user3: which is why Y/N's perfect, they'll be immature together 🥰

-> @ user4: This just proves you've never watched one of Y/N's shows before lmao

Y/N's Instagram Story (2025):

comments (8521):

@ user13: OMG OMG OMG IT'S STARTING

-> @ user14: I'm so glad I get to be alive during the LandoY/N era

@ user12: It'll be so funny if this turns out to be from Oscar or something 🙃

-> @ user15: HELP

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ landonorris: P3 in Mexico! Awesome results

tagged: @ mclaren, @ f1, @ yourusername

comments (64312):

@ user16: ALERT ALERT Y/N HAS BEEN TAGGED

@ user13: guys i'm actually gonna combust 🫣🔥

-> @ user17: They're together, it has to be

@ yourusername: nice sombrero 😋

-> @ landonorris: Thank you!!!

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ yourusername: hola mexico 🇲🇽

tagged: @ landonorris

comments (3846):

@ yourbffusername: Looks so fun!

-> @ yourusername: yes it was incredible

@ user10: laaandoooo i see you 👀

@ user18: How does it feel to be living my dream

@ landonorris: So glad you could make it, had a lot of fun talking to you

@ f1gossip: It is rumored that comedian Y/N L/N and McLaren driver Lando Norris are together, after Y/N posted a photo of her receiving paddock passes, and the pair responded to one another's posts about the Mexico Grand Prix.

tagged: @ yourusername, @ landonorris

comments (1293):

@ user9: i'm waitinggg

@ user10: this is worse than the wait for reputation tv

-> @ user18: clowning so hard i know 😖

@ user19: HAVE ANY OF YOU GUYS SEEN LANDO'S INSTA STORY? 🤯

Lando's Deleted Instagram Story:

comments (235):

@ user20: OMGOMGDSDKLSDDNS

@ user21: my eyes are not deceiving me, this is y/n

@ user5: Y/N IS THAT YOU 😳

@ landonorris: OK OK yes I give in, we are together. Happy one month, @ yourusername, I love you to the moon and back!

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (34852):

@ user21: classic Lando accidentally posting the wrong thing and outing himself

-> @ user22: idk what else we would expect from chaos incarnate 😭

@ yourusername: love you too, muppet 😘

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: So, you've just recently announced that you're dating Y/N L/N!

Lando Norris: Yes, I'm really happy about it.

Interviewer: Any plans to bring her to the next race?

Lando Norris: Maybe, we'll see. (laughs and smiles) The paddock is a lot cheerier when she's there, so hopefully, fingers crossed. I'm very, very lucky to call her mine.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[tinyd3ath]

🎀🩰 Bulking Weight 🎀🩰

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

Or

Bakugou gets a little insecure about the extra weight he gained while bulking, and you fuck the insecurity out of him.

Originally posted on A03

🎀🩰

“This was so much fun.” You practically bouncing with joy. It’s been forever since y’all have been on patrol together.

“Whatever dumbass, don’t slow me down.” You throw a glare his way.

“Don’t forget I’m still your wife, your ass will be on the couch if you keep talking to me like that.”

He scuffs in response knowing not to test you, but still wanting to have the last “word”. You giggle at him. You find it cute how unbothered he tries to seem.

Today seemed to be a pretty calm day for patrol. So far you’ve only broken up two fights, saved a cat, and taken pictures with a few fans.

You guys got a call that you can end the day early since it’s been pretty slow all over the city. You two are walking back to the agency now. Bakugou can feel the excitement rolling off you. He can’t help, but crack a little smirk. Seeing his pretty wife practically glow with excitement lights something inside him. He thought he’d be over all the puppy love by now, but watching you walk down the street smiling while the sun hits your skin making your cheeks look like those caramel/chocolate commercials makes him just wanna sink his teeth in you. In a good way of course.

“What are you so excited about anyways?”

“I was planning on watching the new game of thrones series when we got back, and now I get to watch it earlier than planned” You squeal.

Gosh you’re such a nerd. He never understood why you like those British shows. They all look like their bodies, and breath smell like ass. Yeah, the fight scenes are cool, but other than that what do you watch it for?

He was too busy thinking about how weird your taste in television was to notice a group of teenagers boys walking down the sidewalk towards y’all. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by the force of the tallest in the group shoulder checking him.

“Watch old man.” The tall box dyed blonde says to Bakugou. The kid’s friends all snicker. Bakugou stops , and turns to the group.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to respect your superiors? Especially the ones out here keeping your ass safe.”

The blonde teen just rolled his eyes.

“You should be less worried about my parents, and more worried about your beer belly. Fat ass.” Before he can stop, and think about it Bakugou goes to grab the kid by the collar. But you are quicker, and grab his arm before he can do so.

“Come on I wanna go home.” You plead with your eyes for him to let it go. He really wants to teach these fuckers a lesson, but his need to please you outweighs his need to rub some random brat’s face in the dirt. He grunts in agreement, and lets you drag him away. He can hear the boys laughing as y’all walk away. But all he cares about is getting his pretty wife on the couch surrounded by your favorite snacks.

You use your quirk to knock the kid on his ass before you guys get too far. Teenagers fucking suck.

—

While sitting on the couch with you later he couldn’t help replay what that brat said earlier. He noticed he’d gained a little fat, but it’s because he’s bulking. Was it really that noticeable? Why haven’t you said anything? He started to feel as if he led you on.

When you first meet back in school he wasn’t all jacked, but he was far from fat. The body you feel in love with. The one you loved so much your panties would get wet just from looking at isn’t the same anymore.

Did you still even find him attractive?

Bakugou can’t bring himself to ask you about it. He says that he’ll just watch you carefully to see any signs of discomfort . The problem was you look so unfazed. He can’t tell if it’s because you haven’t noticed, don’t care, or if you’re trying to look unbothered to not hurt his feelings.

His feelings weren’t hurt, maybe his ego was a little bruised. But the fact you’re the type to go around problems that aren’t problems to protect other’s feelings only adds to the uncertainty.

What Bakugou didn’t notice was that you picked up on his discomfort. You noticed the long looks in the mirror after every shower. The not wanting to cuddle every night like he usually does. Most of all the lack of intimacy.

You guys haven’t had sex in almost a week. Every time y’all start to get hot, and heavy he just eats you out the rolls over and says goodnight.

Head is great. But fuck, you wanna feel the weight of your husband on top of you as he makes love to you.

You decid you’ve had enough. Whatever is worrying him so much you’re going find out and fix. At dinner you decide to finally speak about it.

“Katsuki.” Almost immediately Bakugou looks up at you.

“Yes?” Worry lines your face. Bakugou starts to panic thinking something happened to make you upset. Just as he was about to ask if you were okay you cut him off.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting different. You haven’t been as affectionate or intimate. Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Now he really starts to panic. How could you, his beautiful perfect wife ever think you were the problem? How could he not be attracted to you? You were hand crafted by God himself. You are the only woman he could ever love. Never once had he ever questioned your beauty. Even in school when he thought you were annoying, he still found you breathtaking.

“Are you crazy there’s no way I couldn’t be attracted to you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He pauses, and shaky breath in. Should he lie, or let you know that some punk made him a little insecure?

No, he can’t lie to you. For this whole ‘death do us part’ thing to work he’s gonna have to be honest with you. Even if it makes him uncomfortable.

“…I’m afraid that you don’t find me attractive now that I’ve put on some pounds.” He’s too embarrassed to even look up from his plate. There’s silence for a minute. He starts to worry that he’s actually right. But when he looks up to see your face it’s filled with nothing, but love. You get up from your seat, and walk over to him. You reach out to stroke his cheek.

“There’s nothing that would make me stop loving, or finding you unattractive. And I have noticed the extra pounds, but honestly it’s kinda doing it for me.” You giggle at his stunned face. You pull him in for a kiss. It starts off tinder. Full of the love you two share. But with new found confidence Bakugou starts to get impatient. He missed this. Your body against his. The kiss becomes more intense as he pulls you closer to him.

He lifts you by the back of your knees, and carries you to your shared bedroom. You let out a squeal as you’re dropped on the bed. Bakugou chuckles at you, but you aren’t given enough time to say anything about before he reconnects your lips. He starts moving his kisses lower, and nips at your jaw.

Between nibbles, and kisses Baukgou breathes out “God I’ve missed this”.

You let out a startled moan when he goes lower, and sucks your nipple through your thin shirt. You feel his lips curve into a smirk at your reaction.

You start to get impatient from all the nipping,and kissing. You’ve been deprived of him for too long. You whine as you tug on his shirt letting him know you want it off. Bakugou can’t help,

but coo at you, and give a kiss to your pouty lips.

“I know pretty girl, I know. Just let me taste you first baby.” He peels your clothes off before laying between your legs. His mouth waters every time he see your beautiful cunt. He watches as more slick leaks from you. He uses his thumb to spread it across your lips, before giving your clit the tiniest rub. It’s a ghost of a touch, and it drives you crazy. You start whining down at your husband begging with your pretty eyes for more, and who is he to tell you no? He replaces his hand with his mouth.

He loves the smell, and taste of you. He never thought there’d be a day he would be obsessed with a vagina, but after y’all’s first time he’s been hooked. He licks you like it give him just as much pleasure. The room is filled with your moans, and the sloppy sound of your dripping hole and his mouth . You grab at his hair, and start rolling your hips up into his face. Bakugou’s eyes rolling back at the feeling of you rubbing your juices all over his lower face and nose.

Bakugou sucks your clit between his lips while flicking the tip of his tongue against it. The clinching in your stomach gets tighter, and you know you’re close. But when he slightly nibbles on your clit you know it’s over. You cry out as you ride your orgasm out on his face. After you calm down Bakugou sits up on his knees to see your fucked out expression, and heaving chest.

As good as him eating you out was, it wasn’t what you wanted. You tug at his pants with pleading eyes, expressing what you really want.

“What pretty girl you can’t use your words?” He says in that mockingly sweet voice. He likes seeing his pretty wife like this. All desperate, and sparkling eyed. It’s impossible not to get hard while watching you squirm, and beg for his cock. It’s when you pout up to him all big eyed, and desperate that he gives you what you want. No matter how hard he tries he can’t say no to you. His beautiful sweet wife. If he could he’d give you the universe. He pulls his shirt off, and tosses it across the room. He then removes his belt, and pants leaving him in just his underwear. He starts to feel a little uneasy showing all this extra skin to you, but seeing the hungry look on your face burns it all away.

You feel yourself getting wetter as you stare at your husband’s changed body. You felt the extra weight, but seeing it makes you so much more hornier than you expected. All his bulging muscles. Instead of being lean like before he’s fuller. His stomach has become slightly rounder, and his shoulders, chest, and biceps meatier.

“Fuck I need you.” A evil smirk breaks out across Bakugou’s face.

“Come get it baby.” You tug his underwear down causing his cock to flop out. The swollen pink tip leaks with precum. You give him a few strokes before leaning down, and giving the tip a sweet kiss. You suck the tip into your mouth while wiggling your hips in the air knowing how much he loves seeing your ass move. Bakugou groans at the display. But you only get two head bobs in before he’s pulling you off, and pushing you on your back.

“That can wait for later. Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you. I gotta give my baby what she want.” He smugly says to you.

Bakugou pushes your knees apart and, taps his fat dick on your pussy. He enjoys watching the slight jiggle of your fat lips. He sit his dick between your lips, and lets his dick sit snug between the two. He thrust slowly. His tip catching your clit with every upward thrust. He loves watching the contrast of his dick sliding between your brown lips.

After an impatient “Katsuki” he lines his tip up with your hole, and slowly pushes into you. You both can’t stop the low whines from leaving your lips as he stretches your tight spongy walls around him. He looks to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, and almost blows his load right there.

Seeing your mouth agape, and face scrunched up in pressure causes his dick to twitch inside you.

He can’t stop himself from breathing out a “Fuck baby” at the sight of you laid out so pretty. He starts moving at a steady pace. He leaves kisses all over your face, and shoulders. He can’t stop himself from telling you how good you are between kisses. Something about your gummy walls makes his mind go foggy, and his tongue loose.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

“Taking all of me so well.”

“Come on pretty girl give it to me.”

“Can’t believe this pretty pussy is all mine.” The steady pace was amazing while you were getting use to his size again,but now you were getting impatient and wanting more.

Bakugou is caught off guard when you suddenly pulled him down by his neck, and cross your ankles around his waist. You can’t stand the no skin to skin. All you want is to feel the weight of your husband on top of you while he beats your walls in.

You look up at him with glossy eyes, and beg “please Katsuki, i need more”.

And who the hell was he to tell you no. He gives you one last peck before getting up on his elbows, and thrusting into you like it was his only purpose in life. Your squeals plus the sloppy sound your cunt starts making, makes his mind go hazy. All he can think about is getting you to cum on his cock then stuffing you full of his cum.

You reach between your bodies to give your clit the attention she’s throbbing for. The added sensation makes you squeeze even tighter around him. It’s too much for you both. Bakugou can’t even hold himself up anymore causing him to lay his full body on you,and starts humping into wet soft heat. He subconsciously starts sucking and licking on your neck like a fucking virgin that’s having their first kiss.

You can’t stop your sobs. It’s all too much, and not enough at the same time. You feel so full, yet you want to suck him in deeper. His tip rubbing against your cervix isn’t enough. You want him inside it, smearing his cum against each area of it.

“Katsuki, fuck!” you wail.

“Daddy please!”

“It’s okay baby you can take.” He coos at you.

“No I can’t, it’s too much!”

“Come on baby take it for me.” He pulls you into a sloppy kiss. When you pull apart he says

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

You get out a little ‘mhm’ between sobs.

You feel your climax on the tip of your tongue. He can tell you need a little something more. Bakugou reaches his hand up, and rolls your nipple between his fingers before giving it a pinch.

Your climax hits you like a wave, and drags Bakugou down with you. He continues thrusting making sure he covers all your walls with his cum.

You two lay there holding each other after coming down from your highs. You run your nails through his hair while waiting for your heartbeats to go back to normal. After a few minutes you decide to break the silence.

“You know, nothing could make me stop loving you.” Bakugou feels an intense swell of emotion in his chest. He tries to hide his red cheeks, and teary eyes by burying his face between your breast.

“Fuck how’d I get so lucky?”

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | fourteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, mostly focused on namjoon again in his stressed with no rest era, oc tells her friends about everything, jiung x oc fighting, crying :(, oc has a pretty good talk with namjoon, things are just shifting/changing

—a/n: the next fic coming up after wildfire has been posted here! also if you haven't taken my poll, pls do so! hehe <33 i appreciate u

You lay back against the arm of the couch with your blanket sprawled on top, typing away the last bits of info into your presentation. You're a slide away from creating your acknowledgements slide and wrapping up the entire rotation update. You had gotten an email from both San and Namjoon stating that your rotation in San's lab was ending due to a change in your timeline and that you needed to present your rotation update to the both of them, along with the dean, in the following week. It scared you at first— and it still does now— but it's starting to make more sense as to why San did what he did. Namjoon sent you a side email asking if you could meet today because he wanted to discuss what was going on. He kept it vague. Short.

Maybe he was holding off until the meeting.

It's obvious who started all of this. It's not hard to tell.

But, you agreed to meet after TAing for Yunho— letting Namjoon know you'd be there as soon as class was over. He agreed to the time and sent you a reassuring message towards the end, telling you all would be well and that he'd help you figure things out no matter what.

It was reassuring, but it doesn't mean you weren't scared.

Anxious.

Nervous.

Doesn't mean any if this it hurt any less. Doesn't mean you weren't angry, upset, sad. You still needed to feel it out, especially being alone and going through this without anyone else to talk to about it.

You had Eunchae, Jurin and Felix. But, you wished you had Jiung to talk to. You wished you didn't feel hurt about him, too.

—FLASHBACK

"So, you two are seeing each other?" Jurin asks while she sits in front of you and holds onto your knee to give it a gentle rub. Eunchae sits next to you with her arm over your shoulder, also giving you a gentle caress, squeeze. Felix sits next to Jurin and he's got a look of concern, but sadness. You had finally opened up about everything between you and San; from how things started, the conferences, staying at his house, being with him—

To not.

Jiung keeps himself posted near your window because he doesn't really wanna hear more about it but he needs to— to understand the full story. Part of him also feels guilty for what he did hearing your cries and how awfully torn up you are over Professor Choi.

San.

He's gotta get used to you calling him San like that.

"Were." You shake your head and press the tissue against your nose to pat it dry. "It's done with now."

"But, why? Couldn't you guys just play it off?" 

"I'm sure he wanted to be safe, though." Felix adds softly. "I think I kinda see where he's coming from." He looks at you. "I don't think he meant to hurt you, but he's probably trying to protect you and keep everything safe in the meantime. Once this blows over—"

"I doubt we'd get back together."

"Don't say that. You never know, Y/N. I agree with Lix. He's probably just trying to do what's best for now even if it hurts him to. I'm sure he cares a lot about you. I mean heck, he almost fucked up Hae-jin in front of everyone." You sigh and look down at your hands, the feeling of sadness and emptiness all consuming. 

"He does." Eunchae adds to Jurin's reassurance. "I don't know why Professor Lee and Professor Jeong think it's their business, though. Haven't they done enough damage?"

"Awful. People literally can't mind their business, especially when it has nothing to do with them."

"I get the power dynamics but Professor Choi doesn't seem like the type. So, honestly, it's not like anyone was getting hurt in the process." Jiung silently fiddles with his hoodie string as Felix goes on.

"And people clearly don't know you if they assume you're the one throwing yourself on him." Jurin adds.

"Damn. Two people can't just be together?" Felix shakes his head. "Anyway, you got us, and this will pass. I'm sure Professor Kim will do everything to help and figure things out, too." You dig your face into your hands, trying to wipe away the remaining tears before you nod and smile at Lix in appreciation for his support, too. 

Still, you can't help but notice how Jiung has remained quiet this entire time— barely able to maintain eye contact with you.

"Should we go to dinner? Get some food in you?" Eunchae gives you a small smile and giggle. You nod and stand with them, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror while the three start making their way out of your door.

"Can we talk for a second?"

"About?"

"I just have to tell you something. Probably shouldn't wait until after dinner."

"Um, okay?" You look at him, hands crossed over your chest in a vulnerable manner, doe-eyes peeking up at him as he lets out a hefty sigh. "What's on your mind?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I just wanna say I'm sorry and I hope you understand where I'm coming from. But—" He lets out another sigh before shaking his head, almost as if he were shaking his feelings off. Trying to tell himself he needs to say it. "I-I went to Professor Kim and told him about you and Professor Choi. I told him I thought you were being taken advantage of and that I was worried."

"What?" You can barely get out. "W-why would you do that?"

"I was really just worried and I wasn't sure how else to get to you. I-I thought Professor Kim would be able to help—"

"Jiung." You call his name and step back, not wanting to be in close proximity to him. You knew he was worried about you, but you didn't think he'd go off and talk to Namjoon about it right away. "Why would you do that? Why couldn't we just keep talking about it— why did you have to go and blow this up even more?!"

"I'm sorry, can you blame me?!—"

"You didn't have to go behind my fucking back and tell Professor Kim! I already told you it wasn't like that and you still told him it was?! What the actual hell, Jiung?"

"I was just worried about you! I was being your fucking bestfriend, trying to make sure you weren't hurt or anything."

"And then you made things worse. Are you happy?" You scoff. "Those assumptions could have really fucked up Professor Choi."

"What about you, Y/N? Why do you keep disregarding yourself?! Is that even healthy—"

"Healthy?! I'm telling you the truth!" You scoff. "And you don't know shit about me and him, so quit acting like you do." You throw your hands up in defeat because he'll never get it. "Forget it, okay? You'll never understand and I don't need you to."

"Hey, what's going on?" Felix pops his head in, confused at the ruckus going on behind doors. Truthfully, he heard everything just as he was approaching the door to check up on you, and he's not sure how to feel. It's hard. He feels like he's in the middle because he sees Jiung, he sees you.

"You guys can go off to dinner together, but I'll probably just stay behind." 

"But, Y/N—" Jiung adds in defeat.

"Why don't you and the girls go? We'll catch up later." Felix tugs him by the sleeve and gives him a look. "Give her some space." He mutters lowly just as he gets in close distance.

—END

Your alarm blares on the coffee table, a harsh reminder that you haven't really slept much. It was time to wrap up and get ready for Yunho's class— something you weren't entirely ready to tackle today either.

But, you get up anyway. 

You sigh and put on your brave face.

You throw on a simple sweater, jeans and your Sambas— dabbing a bit of mascara, brow gel and lip gloss to fix yourself up a tiny bit for the day. You were tired of feeling sad and dressing the part; the least you could do was finally get some fresh air and look decent enough for the world while coming out of your slump. You grab your things and pack up your bag, heading out of the door with your keys in hand.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San's lab.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San.

You let out a sigh and quietly walk over to the classroom in peace, keeping your head down for a majority of the time. 

Avoiding eye contact, avoiding anything having to do with the outside world in meantime.

"Hey!" Yunho says in his usual fashion. You give him a small smile, although you're not really sure why he's joining class yet again today. He had been joining your class in particular recently, and you knew why.

He just wanted to get under your skin.

"Hi." You respond, getting your laptop together. Yunho continues to watch you from where you're standing, noting the sadness that envelopes your entire body. The way you're avoiding him. The way it's so blatantly obvious that you know that he knows.

That Iseul is the reason why you're sad.

You don't say anything otherwise; keeping your head down and away from Yunho even while the class walks in. You continue to carry on with the last journal club of the class before giving everyone time to work on their final proposals before it's due at the end of the evening. A few people linger at the end of class to speak with you and Yunho to get your guidance on the last remaining bits of their proposals before they thank you for all your help and head out for the day.

You still haven't said a word to Yunho, and he can't help but ask:

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asks nonchalantly after class, looking at your figure even though you are avoiding eye contact with him while packing up your things.

"No."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't know why you're asking if something is wrong when you know what it is already. Don't you?" You look at him plainly from the side before gathering the rest of your things.

"Whatever's been happening between you and San is between you and San—"

"So, was it you who told Professor Kim? Or was it Professor Lee?" You cut him off. Yunho stares at you, and he doesn't respond. Of course he won't, of course he won't throw Iseul under the bus even though you know she was behind it.

"It was for the best."

"Quite frankly, I don't think you can speak on what's best for me or him. Especially him." You look at Yunho directly in the eye. "Are you both that determined to bring San down? Is that what this?" He furrows his brows.

"Reel it in, Y/N." He says, sternly. "Do you not understand how damaging this could be for both you and him? If anything, it was done to protect you both."

"What makes you think we weren't capable of doing so?" Yunho lets out a pathetic chuckle before he steps forward and leans towards your ear, a small smirk on his lips.

"I think snuggling up on campus and sneaking into his office is enough of a reason." He pulls back, licking his lips before dipping his hands into his pocket.

"And I think you need to learn how to mind your own business and let San handle his own." You scoff. "In any case, Yunho." You look him in the eye. "You and Iseul already ruined him from the beginning and you can't come to terms with it." You tilt your head to the side. "You both were never deserving of San, and that is sad. No wonder you two are miserable and are still keeping tabs on him." Yunho's mouth slightly drops, but he doesn't respond to your statement. "I'll help out with finals if needed. Otherwise, please consider my TA assignment with you done."

You almost run into Iseul as you stomp out of the classroom, leaving her to knit her brows at you in response.

"Nice talk." Iseul pops in, her husband biting his cheek.

"We should have never gotten involved with that, Iseul." He says lowly as he gathers his things together.

"Oh, so just let them—"

"That's exactly it, just let them be." He cuts her off and looks at her. "It didn't have to be us. We could've just let them be and let anyone else do the talking. Let them learn on their own." His jaw ticks.

"We did the right thing." She crosses her arms.

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're taking the opportunity to destroy San and running with it. It didn't have to be us." He repeats, slinging his bag onto his shoulder.

"Yunho." She says. "You're not actually taking Y/N seriously, are you? She's delusional if she thinks all of this is okay and would've slipped."

"Don't call her delusional, Iseul. You have no say in their relationship or what they're about. You had no right. They knew what they were getting into. You just lead them into the trap for your own benefit." Yunho scoffs. "You wanted to see this unfold, didn't you? You wanted this to unfold in a specific way." 

"What is going on, Yunho?"

"We're not meddling in this anymore. If you're not ready to stop, count me out of it. I'm not doing this, I'm not picking at their business anymore." He grabs his things and takes the lead out of the room. Iseul scoffs and shakes her head, slowly trailing behind him.

As for you, you feel cold. You feel isolated. You feel empty. You walk out and find a hidden table behind the building and set yourself down to get yourself together. You let out a couple of breaths to ease your feelings, promising yourself you wouldn't cry over this anymore.

But, it hurts to hold it in.

It hurts.

You feel the dullness, the heavy ache, in the center of your chest, and it hurts.

You have to move on.

"Fuck." You sigh, hand over your chest to give it a few gentle rubs before you're back on your feet and checking the time. You need to see Professor Kim just like your promised.

Of course, as you're on your way to Professor Kim's office, you find San passing by with Yeosang and Jongho. His eyes land on you and you immediately break first, feeling the tears ready to well up in your eyes. He sees the way your head drops and how you turn away— he can't help but slightly turn over his shoulder to keep his eyes on you.

To lock eyes with you once more.

To feel.

But, it doesn't happen. And it fucks San up more than he expects because he doesn't know even know what Jongho and Yeosang are talking about anymore after that brief interception.

"Yo, you good?" Jongho taps his chest with a small chuckle, bringing San back to reality.

"Yeah. Sorry." He tries to play it off quickly but Jongho quickly turns over his shoulder to see you walking in the opposite direction.

"All good." He returns to San and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." San gives him a toothless smile. "Anyway, did you guys figure out where we're going before we make laps around campus?" Yeosang and Jongho share a quick look before they follow behind San and pick the conversation back up to prevent any of San's sadness from creeping up.

Meanwhile, you continue your way to Professor Kim's office, wiping away the stragglers that manage to escape your eyes and streak your cheeks. You weren't gonna let this get to you, so you quickly try to brush it off and get yourself together especially when you walk down the hallway and into Professor Kim's office. He's in his chair, typing away on his computer— glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Y/N, come sit and make yourself comfortable." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, sitting down on the chair posted in front of his desk.

"Thanks for meeting with me today, Professor Kim."

"No, thank you." He chuckles and finally shifts his full attention towards you. "How are you today?"

"Uh, could be better but not complaining."

"Yeah? How was class with Professor Jeong?"

"Hm, okay." You hum before shifting in your seat nervously. 

"Just okay?" You nod. "Well, as long as there aren't any complaints or anything you wanna tell me." Namjoon knows you probably aren't having a great time in Yunho's class right now and he doesn't blame you.

"No." You force a smile. "Anyway, I see that I have to do my rotation presentation next week?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Y/N. You do understand why this is all happening, right?" You slowly nod. "I know you and San have been seeing each other, and I know he ended things the other day. I'm really sorry, but I just need to protect you both. Word is getting around fast and the dean isn't having it. I can't have him fire San, I can't have him kick you out of the grad program. Please just understand why things have to be this way. I just need it to settle."

"I do." You respond weakly before looking down at your hands. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Professor Kim. I didn't mean— we didn't mean for this to blow up. I-I know we shouldn't have been so sloppy and reckless, and I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." He shakes his head with a sympathetic look. "No need to be sorry. I promise all is fine, and that's why I'm here to help and protect you both." You look at him with a sad nod, and you aren't sure why that's the tipping point for you but you suddenly start to break down in front of Professor Kim. He feels his heart breaks because he knows there wasn't any power play in this; he knows San as a person, and he's familiar with you as a student and the work you do. There was no way either of you used any power or position for your advantage. He knew this had been a genuine, real relationship— it's just truly unfortunate it had to unfold this way.

If word hadn't gotten around, maybe Namjoon wouldn't care at all. 

But, he has to now, and that's what makes everything hard about his role.

"I promise everything is going to be okay." He says softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Namjoon shakes his heas, watching the way you cry into your hands.

"Y/N, it's okay. You can let it out if you need to." He passes you the tissue box. "Can I ask you something? And be honest. I've already figured out your plan for school so you don't have to hold back." Namjoon says. "Do you care about him?" You nod as you continue to cry, the ache in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. 

You miss San.

"But, it doesn't matter because he ended it. It's over with."

"He only did so because of my guidance, and I'm sorry about that. I told him this too, but it's not something I wanted to do. Trust me. As his friend, it's the first time I've seen him genuinely and truly happy. It's all I wanted after the things he's gone through. But, I just can't risk it right now. San is beginning to reach new heights with his career and getting more real estate to do things he's been wanting to do with Jongho. You're also just getting into the groove of things. I don't want either of your hard work to get snatched away over something like this."

"No, I know Professor Kim. I do understand and I'm grateful. It just sucks. I don't know how else we would've gotten away with it, I guess." You sniff. "Maybe it had to happen."

"Look, I told him this, too. But, I can't police every detail and tell you who you can and can't date. If San is someone you care about, then so be it, but the only thing I ask of you is to keep it off campus. I cannot have you two interacting on campus or else he's out. Not by my choice, but the committee."

"I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I know, and he said the same thing about you. He cares just as much, so don't think that he doesn't." You dab your face with the napkin and nod.

"Jiung confessed and told me he came to you about it." Namjoon nods.

"I think he was just worried as your friend. Rightfully so. But, I think he also shouldn't have jumped to those conclusions right away."

"I told him that."

"If I hadn't known San so well, I probably would've believed Jiung." He sighs. "It's alright, he didn't know and he was worried. Are you two okay?"

"Not really, but I think we just need time. I'm trying to see his side of things, but I also didn't think he'd do that so it caught me off guard."

"I see. Well. Give yourself some time and grace, okay? I'm sorry it had to be this way for now." You give him a tiny, toothless smile. Eyes still shiny and watery from the crying you've just done. 

I'm sorry it had to be this way for now.

It repeats in your head over and over again because why does it feel like this is just how it's gonna be? Despite Namjoon reassuring you, despite San's explanation. Why does it just feel like a fleeting moment? A chapter in your book— a part that was never really supposed to last.

"Thank you." He gives you a smile.

"So, shifting to the program. I was thinking I could pull you into my lab and we can figure out things as time goes on? Explore other options if there's anything else you'd wanna explore." You nod. "You know there's other paths we can look into, or if you're totally fine with where you're at in my lab, then we can just stick with that plan."

"That sounds good. Thank you, Professor Kim."

"Unfortunately, like I mentioned, I can't have you interacting with Professor Choi. I'll have to make sure you don't take any of his classes or end up in any collaboration projects with him." You nod.

"Okay. I understand." 

"You'll have to halt all your work in his lab immediately. You can grab your things when you feel ready to, but I'll have you in my lab starting next week. I know it'll be a bit crazy with your rotation presentation, but I promise to make it a smooth transition." 

"Okay." You purse your lips. "I'm almost finished with my rotation presentation."

"That's great!"

"It'll just be us three?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's not the usual format but I need the dean to see all the good work you do."

"Thank you. I appreciate your support."

"Do you have any questions so far? Any other concerns?" You think for a second before shaking your head.

"No."

"I'll send you some onboarding info and give you the contacts to some key people in my lab to help you get started. We can figure out your project and goals in a little more depth next week. Let's aim for a Monday morning meeting? 9am?"

"Good with me." 

"Thanks, Y/N. And please trust me when I say all is gonna be well."

"Thank you." 

"See you next week? Be sure to keep an eye out for my emails." You nod as you stand and tuck your bag closely to you.

"I will." You give him another smile before heading out of the door. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose and plops back down onto his chair, picking up his direct line to ring the dean's office phone. It rings for a few minutes before the dean is answering on the other end.

"Namjoon."

"Hey. Can we meet today to talk about what's been going on? I can be over in the next 15 minutes."

"I'm free, but I have a hard cut off in 45 minutes."

"That's plenty of time. I'll be there soon."

"See you." Joon hangs up and gathers his things, loosening his tie to get himself together for this meeting. He doesn't necessarily wanna do this, nor does he think he's ready for whatever the dean could unleash on him.

On you, on San.

But, he has a job to do and he'll make damn sure he gets his point across. He'll make damn sure he controls this well, and he'll make sure nothing happens to the both of you.

When he gets into the building and heads straight for the dean's office, he's greeted by the front desk and his executive assistant. The dean's assistant knocks on his door and pops her head in to give him a heads up about Namjoon's visit. It isn't long before she's gesturing for him to come into his office, stepping out and slowly shutting the door behind her once Namjoon's settled in the seat in front of him.

"Namjoon."

"Dean Louie." Namjoon clears his throat. "Can we discuss what's been going on? I've got a chance to review this more in depth."

"Great. So, tell me. What's with the anonymous tip? Is there truth behind San and his student's relationship?"

"No." The dean looks at him with his head cocked to the side. "Not at all."

"Namjoon. This isn't the time to play games."

"Who said I was?" Joon asks. "This is purely a rumor and there is nothing going on between the two of them. To keep things safe, I'll make sure they don't cross paths and interact on campus, and I'll make sure to work closely with her and keep her under my wing." Namjoon says.

"A rumor? That blew up around campus? What about Iseul and Yunho? Iseul told me about the happy hour event with San. All of this seems too good to be true, and if you're covering for them—" Namjoon cuts him off.

"Since when did Iseul and Yunho have their best interest in San? All I know is that they've always been the driving issue, not San." Namjoon looks at the dean confused. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but a rumor is a rumor and I've gotten to the bottom of it. I talked to the both of them and they denied it through and through. The only reason why San got caught up in the whole happy hour business was because a postdoc was crossing the line and being really disrespectful to her. Any one of us would've done it had we caught it right away like San did." Namjoon continues to furrow his brows. "Now, please. I'd appreciate if we can move on." The dean sits back and lets out a hefty sigh.

"Go on."

"As stated in my email, she will do her rotation presentation in front of myself, you and San. After that, she will be removed from his lab and will be placed in mine. We'll have weekly check-ins, and I'll work with her to move her classes around and realign her priorities so that she and San don't cross paths in this program again."

"And what about this real estate in the building? I'm not going to give it over if this is what San plans to do—"

"I'm sorry, but this shouldn't define San and his work." Namjoon pauses. "He's not, alright? I already confirmed it was a rumor and there is nothing going on. No reason for you to pull back on that real estate deal especially when Jongho had nothing to do with this either and San has already explained his side and agreed to comply regardless. She'll be out of his lab." The dean gives Namjoon a stern look.

"You better make damn sure this doesn't happen again, Namjoon. No rumors, no slip ups. And you make sure those three stop causing trouble on campus. Iseul, Yunho and San. I don't care who did what and who is blaming who, I need this to stop. Now. We can't have childish, petty issues running amuck on this campus."

"You have my word."

"If I hear San and Y/N in the same sentence again, I can't promise it will be the same outcome."

"With all due respect, I need you to understand that whatever they do, whatever happens off campus, doesn't concern me and shouldn't concern you either. I cannot police their behavior and make them act a certain way off grounds. They are both grown, mature adults that can make decisions on their own, and you know that's unfair and very unrealistic." The dean doesn't say much. He mutters a few things under his breath before he's returning his attention to Namjoon.

"Not a damn word about them ever again, Namjoon. I mean it." The dean warns him again before settling into his seat and returning his attention to his desktop computer. Namjoon does a quick, silent bow before walking out, sighing loudly to himself as he's finally gotten that over with.

Still doesn't make it any easier knowing he had his friend make a very difficult decision that he did not wanna do.

He hopes in time, this could blow over and San could be happy again. Despite this hurdle, he's betting on it. On you and him.

Maybe when you come back together, circumstances will be different enough that it won't make the relationship seem as bad as it does right now.

"Shit." Namjoon clicks his teeth when he finally gets out of the building and breathes in the fresh air. He is exhausted, but his day isn't about to be over, no. On his way back to his office, he finds Yunho speaking to a few colleagues in the courtyard. He must have gotten out of a meeting and was walking his visitors out.

And Namjoon doesn't give a fuck. That visit is ending now.

"Professor Kim! It's an honor to see you in the flesh!" Namjoon smiles at his guests before returning the favor.

"Hi there." Namjoon does a curt bow. "Hope you've enjoyed your visit."

"Completely. We had a great collaboration meeting with Professor Jeong here, and he gave us a tour around."

"That's great, yeah." Namjoon smiles before looking at Yunho. "Can we talk in my office?" Namjoon says near Yunho's ear. "Now?"

"Sure." Yunho bids his last farewell before excusing himself and following Namjoon straight to his office. No words being spoken or shared. Namjoon shuts the door and sighs, looking at Yunho with his hand on his hip. "What's going on, Joon?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you and Iseul are trying so hard to ruin that man's reputation. The dean told me Iseul went over there to give him more of her little intel on San."

"I don't know what she said or did—"

"You still knew about it, didn't you?" Namjoon looks at him. "You knew this whole time Iseul was trying to raise hell about this and you let her."

"How is this not wrong?"

"No one said it wasn't wrong, Yunho!" Namjoon raises his tone. "There were just better ways to go about it than throwing San's name out there the way you two did. Just throwing him out there to the wolves without even knowing the full story. That's the problem!"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't seem like it now, but we were looking out for him and everyone else potentially involved."

"Except me. If you knew better, you both would've let me handle this accordingly. This doesn't just affect him, Yunho. It affects you both. It affects me. It affects Y/N, Jongho, everyone. Because you both didn't know how to be discreet about your plans to bring San down."

"It was never like that!"

"Then, what was it like? Tell me. As his colleague, as someone who acted purely for their own benefit, what was it like? As San's ex-bestfriend, what was it like?" Yunho doesn't respond. "This isn't high school, Yunho. I'm sorry, but the both of you need to grow up."

"We just tried to do the right thing and I don't take any of it back. If you fail to see that, then that's on you—"

"Oh, so approaching the dean to give him more talk in his ear with your so-called evidence before coming to me is doing the right thing?" Namjoon looks at him. "What was the goal here? What did this plan look like to you and Iseul?” He shakes his head. “No, actually, I don't wanna hear it, she already came into my office to talk my ear off about this. That should've been enough to let me handle it." Namjoon furrows his brows at him. 

"We just thought we were helping everyone—"

"Helping? Yourself or Iseul?" Namjoon shakes his head. "You know what, this is done. The damage is done. So, thank you and Iseul for your generous help." Yunho sighs. "Now that you've done all the talking, it's my turn." Joon steps closer to him. "As long as I'm around, I'll continue to keep the peace in this department, and that means I don't want you and Iseul meddling in San's personal matters ever again." Namjoon's jaw ticks as he and Yunho stare at each other in the brief pause that falls between them. "I don't want you meddling in Y/N's personal matters, I don't want you two doing anything on this campus besides running your labs and minding your own goddamn business. Do you understand me?" Namjoon places his hands on his hips while he and Yunho maintain eye contact. Yunho swallows thickly before nodding, digging his hands in his pockets.

"Yes sir."

"The next time you and Iseul wanna act like I don't know how to do my job, I promise I'll be good with reminding you."

—read 14.5 here

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[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 2 - There's Pleasure In Pain

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts, childbirth, blood, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.

AN: Yes I know about the show 'this is going to hurt' I haven't seen it but from what I do know it's good so check it out. Also as an aspiring midwife this was so fun to write.

Part 1 - next

Enjoy <3

You don't know how long it’s been. 

Hours? A day? 

More people have questioned you, with new questions.

‘Where was the convoy heading?’

‘Who give you the intel.’

‘What are the Americans up to?’

Some of the questions you don’t even know the answers to. Makes it all the more easier to ignore them. It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop. Death would be easier. 

You remember one of the first things you were told in training, a dead medic is no use to anyone. You remember once during a training exercise you ignored Price’s order to fall back, instead you ran into the field to pull someone out. 

It was the angriest you’d seen Price get. He screamed at you in front of everyone, chewed you out with the entire platoon watching. That was the night he told you he loved you, they all did. You’d never seen them get so emotional before, especially over a training exercise. 

‘You’re not allowed to put yourself in danger like we do. You need to keep us alive, and we’ll keep you alive.’ You remember John saying that, the way he apologised for screaming at you even though he was in the right. The sex that night was amazing. 

It makes you smile thinking about them. You’ve been thinking about them alot when you’re not being tortured. You have to assume they’re not coming for you, that's what you were taught. If you’re ever captured; don’t talk, don’t trade, don’t let them break you. Not that you have a choice over the last part, it’s all a test of willpower. 

You wonder how long it will be before they break you. You can handle the waterboarding to some extent, these people are evil though, terrorists, the worst of the worst. They don’t care about human rights, they’re not answering to any UN or even their own countries' laws. These people could do whatever they wanted to you and there is nothing you can do.

You secretly hope they’re coming for you, you’d like to imagine Simon and John tearing up buildings to find you, breaking the rules and hunting down every last person who laid a finger on you. They’re soldiers though, they have orders to follow, other people’s lives are at stake not just yours. 

You’re a liability now. They have no way of knowing what’s happening to you, if you’ve talked or where you are. You hope they know deep down you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll keep them safe, even if it is from a distance. 

The door to your room opens and you stand. A man walks in and grips your arm tight. You’ve stopped struggling, there’s no point. He walks you past the room you’re usually taken to, it makes your stomach drop. Somethings wrong, something’s changed. Maybe this is it and they’re going to kill you. 

You hear a woman scream, you dig your heels into the ground. The man says something in Arabic then continues to drag you along. This is bad, there is no way this ends well. You can still hear the woman screaming. Maybe they have someone else they’re torturing. He stops you outside a door and knocks. 

A few seconds later it opens. A man is standing there, he looks young, even with the beard, he’s the only person you’ve seen without his face covered. You hear a woman groan, he moves to the side and you see a woman bent over a table with another woman rubbing her back. 

You’re still taking in the scene when the man in front of you says something then pulls you into the room. The door is closed behind you, you look at him confused. 

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” He asks, you recognise the accent. He’s the person who patched up your arm. 

“Do I look like I know how to deliver a baby?” 

“No, but you’re a woman and a medic.” He says “She’s Khaled's wife. If this baby dies he’ll kill me.” 

“Great, he's not going to like it if I kill her.” You scoff. This can’t be happening. 

“You’re dead anyway.” He says, it’s like a knife to the heart. Now you want to help even less. The other woman rubbing her back asks something in Arabic. 

“She’s been in labor for 13 hours, I think something is wrong, she’s not progressing.” The man asks. 

“Then take her to a hospital. I don’t know how to do this, I don’t even know where to start.” You say holding your hands up. The woman screams again and it makes your head ring. You look round the room, there’s a bed and some basic supplies but not much. 

The man goes over to a book he has laid out on the bed and brings it over. To your surprise it’s in english. 

“This is all I have, I’ve done everything so far.” You scan over the book and turn the page, you see diagrams of anatomy and pictures of a vaginal birth. You try to think of anything you know that could help. You’ve seen documentaries, you’ve learnt some things, you close your eyes for a second pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Okay. Get her on the bed.” You say looking over at her. The man orders the women around, as she moves you see supplies on the table. You go over looking for gloves.

“Do you have anything sterile?” You ask, turning to look at him. He shakes his head.

“My bag, you must have taken it when you kidnapped me. It has sterile supplies in it.”

“We’ve used it already.” He says.

“All of it?” You ask shocked. There were enough supplies in there to last at least a week. 

“We needed the supplies.” He says. You sigh pulling on some gloves. What you have will just need to do. You go over to the bed and he follows, the woman's laid back hair is stuck to her face as her friend grips her hand and whispers at her in arabic. 

You let the adrenaline calm you, you ground yourself before you sit on the end of the bad. She looks down at you and grits her teeth through the contraction. Shit, you should be counting them right the time between them. You don’t have a watch you start counting in your head. 

“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” You ask. He asks the woman who replies. 

“2 minutes sometimes 5 minutes.” He says. That’s good right? Means she might be ready to push soon.

“Has she had a baby before?” You ask. 

“This is her 6th.” 

“6th?” You turn back to look at him. You’re not sure what to do with that info though, Does that make her more or less of a high risk. At least she probably knows what to do by now, she probably knows more than you. 

“Can you ask her to pull her legs up. I need to check internally.” He talks and she nods, her friend helping her get comfortable - well as comfortable as she can be. You’re not sure you’ll be able to tell how dilated she is, it’s more to check if everything feels right. Although, you’re not sure what the vagina of a woman in labor is supposed to feel like. 

You smile at her, you have to be confident, she needs to have faith in you. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can, you doubt she’s had any pain relief. You don’t envy her right now, going through labor for 13 hours like this, in this heat, you do feel sorry for her. 

“I can feel the head.” You say, it gives you a boost of confidence. “Can you ask her if she’s had any urges to push?” 

You look over at her as she nods. You pull your hand out, you look down at blood on your fingers, your stomach sinks. 

“Is that bad?” The man asks looking over.

“I don’t think it’s fresh. It could be normal, she is pushing a baby out.” You say taking the gloves off. You walk over to the table to grab a towel and he joins you.

“What should we be worried about?” He asks in a low voice even though you don’t think the women can speak English. We, there's no we, it makes a lump form in your throat.

“Hemorrhage. I’m assuming you don’t have blood.” You say, he shakes his head. So that's a death sentence. 

“The cord could wrap around the baby's neck.” He says. That could be happening right now and you have no way of knowing. You turn back to look at her. There’s no way to monitor the baby right now, you have no idea if it’s in distress and that could be why the labor is taking so long. 

“If she’s having urges to push, maybe she could try?” You say. 

“What if that makes things worse?” 

“I don’t know you’re not exactly set up for a cesarean.” You say. He sighs, you can tell he’s nervous. You should be nervous but you think the surge of adrenaline is keeping you going. Besides, what's the worst that could happen to you? They kill you? They’re probably planning on that anyway. 

There’s a knock at the door and the man goes over to answer it. You watch him out of the corner of your eye hearing him talk. You look back down at the tools. You pick up another pair of gloves and a towel and go back over to the bed. 

You lay the towel out and pull the gloves on as the door closes and he comes back over to you.

“Have you ever done CPR on a baby before?” You ask him. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“Only in practice.” You turn looking up at him confused. “I’m a doctor, well I was training to be one.” 

“You should be doing this, not me.” You scoff shaking your head

“I wanted to be a neurologist.” He says, you sigh, you don’t care, you’re mad he didn’t tell you. 

“Do you have something to clamp the cord with?” You ask looking over at him, he goes over to the table and comes back with an actual clamp. You take it from him and place it on the bed. The woman groans again and you look over at her.  

“Tell her we’re going to try pushing, after the next contraction.” You say getting yourself comfortable and moving her legs so they’re apart. You feel awkward all of a sudden, this is definitely not something you thought you would ever be doing, especially not here of all places, as a fucking hostage. 

You look down-holyfuckingshit. There’s the head. 

“Push, push, tell her to push.” You call as you move your body to get your hands into position. You’re not really sure what you're going to do. Support the head right? Don’t let it fall out of your hands. You’re shaking as she pushes and the head comes out. You see eyes, a nose and mouth. 

The lips are slightly blue, it makes you hold your breath. 

“Tell her keep going, she’s doing great.” You say. You need her to keep going, you need to get this baby out. As soon as the shoulders are through the rest is easy, it just flops out. You look up at her and smile as you reach over for the clamp. 

“I need another clamp.” You say, you place the baby on a towel. 

Why is it not crying? It should be crying. 

You wipe its face, nose and eyes. Cry dammit, you’ve never wanted to hear a baby cry more than anything. 

“Here.” He says handing you another clamp. You turn the baby on its side and start rubbing his back. You’ve seen people do this on TV before. 

“Come on, come on baby.” You mumble. When it cries you almost start too. You roll it on its back as its crying rings in your ears. You take the clamp out his hand. He has the scissors too, you nod at him. 

The woman is shuffling on the bed, she’s asking something. “She wants to know the sex.” the man asks. 

“B-boy. It’s a boy.” The words catch in your throat the adrenaline is wearing off now, you swallow hard you need to keep it together. Your hands shake as you cut the cord. The other woman has moved over to you holding her hands out. You nod, wrapping the baby and handing it to her.

You hear a knock on the door and the doctor leaves you. Or you guess he’s not really a doctor. You look back down between her legs. You’re not sure what to do now, you’ll have to wait for the after birth right? 

She’s not bleeding out though, that’s a good thing. You’re taking your gloves off looking over at the woman stroking her baby's head. You let yourself smile, holy shit you just delivered a baby. Johnny would love to hear about that. Your smile fades as you remember where you are. 

“They want to take you back.” The doctor says as he comes over to you. You nod looking at the person standing at the door. As you get up the woman calls out for you saying something in Arabic. You look over at the doctor. 

“She says thank you. And she hopes you have a safe journey home.” He looks away from you. You turn and smile at her nodding your head. 

“Congratulations.” You say and go over to the door. 

“Oh by the way.” You say turning back to him. “The placenta, when it comes, make sure it’s complete.” 

“How will I know if it’s complete?” He asks. 

“Maybe there’ll be something in the book.” You say shrugging. He nods as the man in the door reaches out, gripping your arm and pulling you out. 

___

The door to your cell opens. You watch as the doctor comes in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. Suddenly your stomach grumbles and your lips smack together as you realise how dry your mouth is. 

He sets them down on the slab of concrete you think is supposed to be a bed. You look over on the plate, there’s flatbread and what looks like hummus. You don’t care what it is, you’re so hungry you’ll eat anything. 

You look back over at him, if you eat you’re breaking down your defences, gathering your strength just so they can torture you more. You are so hungry though, the weaker you get the more likely you are to give up intel you know you shouldn’t. 

“It’s not poisoned or anything.” He says you look over at him, you hadn't even thought about that. 

“How’s the baby?” 

“Good, they’re both good.” He says leaning against the door. 

“Where did you study?” You ask. 

“America, Princeton university.” He says. 

“Fuck me, and you chose to come here?” You scoff. He doesn’t reply, pressing his lips together. 

“You should eat, you might not get another chance. They won’t leave the plate in here.” He says nodding at the food.

“What? I deliver your leader's son and I get some hummus?” You spit at him, you want the food less now. 

“Better than letting you starve.” He says. Starvation would be a pretty horrible way to die. You shuffle over to the plate, opening the water bottle first and trying not to drink it down so fast. You can’t help it though, you don’t even care that it’s warm, it feels like you haven’t had a drink in weeks. 

When you’re done you put it back down letting out  breath. You pick up one of the flatbreads and pull some off dipping it into the hummus. 

“Why’d you leave America?” You ask. 

“I couldn’t stand it. I thought it was the way to a better life. Then I saw all the abominations, I had to leave.” He says, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Why are you here fighting in a war that isn’t yours to fight?” He asks, theres hostility in his voice. 

“You keep blowing shit up in our country.” You say as you dip more bread. 

“You’re special forces or something aren’t you?” It makes you stop chewing, you look up at him. 

“I’m a medic.” You say.

“No ones ever lasted through torture the way you do. Most of them give up after a few hours, or a day.” He says. So it’s been longer than a day, you don’t know if you should be glad or not. It’s been over 24 hours and they still haven't come. 

You look down at the food, suddenly it’s sitting heavy in your stomach. You remember the feeling of ingesting all the water and the feeling of it coming back out when your stomach’s full. You put the bread down and push the plate away. 

“My name is Sayyid.” He says bending down to pick up the plate. 

"I'm not going to tell you my name." You say. He nods pressing his lips together.

"Good luck" He says, nodding and leaving the room. You don't need luck, you need to get the hell out of here.

___

The car ride went in silence. No witty remarks from Johnny. There’s no filling the deafening silence, the only noise is coming from the engine and the wheels turning on the dirt roads. 

48 hours that's how much time Lawell could realistically buy them, if Shepherd was going to send shadows after them they have to move quick. Ghost pulls the car up to the building. 

This is the closest they can get to the next town without being spotted, there's an al-qatala base there. That’s where they’ll get intel, that's where they’ll find out where you are. It’s too late now though, the journey to get here was long. 

“Gaz, Soap clear the place, we’ll wait here.” Price says as Ghost turns the engine off. There’s no reply, just the sound of doors opening and closing. Price watches them walk round the car and over to the front door. The building will be empty, as soon as they’ve confirmed that though, they can hide the car. 

“I shouldn't have put her at the back.” Price says as he watches Gaz and Soap enter the building. 

“It was the right call.” Ghost replies. Price sighs, yeah it was, he didn’t expect things to go so wrong though. Ghost's hand lands on his thigh, he looks over at him. He can see the softness in his eyes. 

“We’ll get her back, John.” 

“I know, I just hope we’re not too late.” 

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