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roryacker · 24 hours ago

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WereGhost Part 5

Surprise, part 5 :D

Imagine Simon's surprise, of course, when the very next morning he was awoken from his uneasy sleep hearing a familiar voice. That accent he'd grown far too used to, calling out the silly name he gave Simon on a whim, uttering something about him looking like a ghost story. It got him to wake up, at least, shuffling around to be able to poke his head out of the crevice he'd made a cold rock den out of, eyes wide. Sure enough, on the very edge of the small territory, the edge Simon made sure to rest close to in order for an easy escape, wandered Johnny, calling like he'd lost the family mutt and not what he thought was a wolf.

Except Simon isn't even a wolf, really, he never was. Hell, he only first started learning to shift when he was seven or so. Even now his body isn't lupine in appearance. Staying in that form for months on end while staying with Johnny meant that his body was tired and sore from it. And of course, the only way to offset that was to avoid shifting for a while, enough to remind the body that it's two creatures and not one. He can't help the discomfort that wells in his chest at that fact, glancing down at himself with furrowed brows and tugging an old deer pelt further over his body. It's rare he keeps the pelts, especially with wolfhunts, but they're really all he can get for warmth outside of his canine form.

Still, a greedy, hungry part of his mind grins at the thought that the (frankly stupid) human came to look for him. The dog got out somehow, and Johnny's gone out of his way to get him.

Simon bares his teeth in a grimacing snarl at the thought, nose scrunching as if he can scare it away the same way he might a competitor, if there were still any in the area. The hunts have killed most of his kind nearby off, if they didn't simply decide to leave before it got bad. Simon's only company outside of Johnny, as of late, have been the hares, rabbits, and occasional deer he makes a meal out of. Sometimes even a pheasant or the like if he can catch it, though he finds the meat to not match his tastes.

Maybe that's why he clung to the human like that. Maybe some part of Simon is lonely.

Maybe that's why he reluctantly decides to slip out of his sad excuse for a den.

Not to follow the call; he never did respond to Ghost, fitting as it may have been. He doesn't want to seem like a loyal hound now of all times.

It's mostly to watch Johnny; sit crouched in the grass, covered only in the deer's pelt and the wolf's skull that somehow follows him between the shift when the rest of his clothes become torn and ragged- the real reason he doesn't bother, truthfully, otherwise he'd happily bask in the warmth- watching intently as the human wanders about. It's bitter for a moment, a sour feeling that only deepens the frown etched on Simon's face.

But of course, if life were ever in his favor, Simon wouldn't have monthly hunts deciding which lucky man will be able to hang his pelt on a well, make it into a rug maybe, he would have never waltzed into that bear trap, maybe going by the humans' idea of good luck he would have never been a beast at all, but as fate so has it, he's Simon goddamn Riley, the town's chicken-eating ghost story-

-and Johnny meets his gaze even through the grass. He falls silent, dumbfounded, and it takes Simon a second too long to realize that fact and shift back in a hurry, scrambling backwards with his ears flat and a genuine snarl in his chest hoping that the sound of it might finally force the human's defunct survival instincts to kick into overdrive and not question it, but of course, he steps forward once, and then again, and then before Simon knows it the man's crouched down in front of the opening of his sad little cavern, staring at a familiar monster with raised hackles and bared teeth, tail tucked between his legs in a gesture Simon hasn't made (hasn't needed to make, truly) in years. There's recognition in Johnny's eyes, and he looks tired, like he hasn't slept for a while.

They're both silent, Simon shifting anxiously and trying to back himself further into his hole, hoping that Johnny might get the hint, but no. The idiot, the absolute numbskull he is, reaches his hand forward, knuckles up, to offer it for Simon to sniff. His expression looks so soft that he can't even bring himself to pretend to be aggressive. If Simon were an ignorant man he might just assume it to be acceptance, but he reasons with himself that even if he knows otherwise he can afford a risk, being close to Johnny's size even in this form. So, he hides his teeth once more, fur smoothing down, and leans forward to sniff as expected, grunting softly at the familiar scent.

It's the one he's used to- not flowery and sweet, but warm, given the wild of the forest around him to further add to it. It smells right. He huffs and shakes off, backing off like he might just be stung if he lingers longer, but Johnny isn't having it and reaches over to scratch behind his ear, much to Simon's surprise.

"Dunno what you are..." he murmurs, voice so quiet compared to the desperate, nervous tone it had before.

"I mean- I know you're no good. Townsfolk've done wonders spelling that one out." Simon bristles at the words, then, narrowing his eyes and growling lowly, but is quickly shut up by another hand settling on the ruff of his neck, that one joining in on the soothing scratching that he's only slightly offended by.

"But you could've eaten me, aye? Could've mauled me in my sleep. And you didn't." He finishes, a bit more firmly, gripping Simon's muzzle in both hands and shaking slightly as if to try and emphasize his point. It's enough to get Simon to keep quiet for good, meeting Johnny's gaze for a fleeting moment before he huffs, nudging his snout into the touch for just a split second, and pulls away.

He's been caught, but at the same time, this is the same man that went so far out of his way to make sure he'd heal up. The man who let him sleep in his bed, let him be a nuisance lounging about the house, who came looking for him when he disappeared without a word.

He shakes off, grumbling quietly as he shifts back, clumsy hands going to cover himself with his pelt-blanket once more instead of simply being draped over himself, and turns his gaze down not in a sign of nervousness or fear, but submission. It's been ages since Simon had to submit, the last time being his father before, still a young adolescent, he realized that pack hierarchy meant nothing, that he could challenge it and win if he used his claws and teeth cleverly enough. To do it willingly and not by force? That's new.

Even if Johnny doesn't understand the gesture, the changing is clear enough. Simon is weak in this form- weaker, anyways. His teeth are still sharp, but they don't pack quite the bite, and his claws are thinner and less of an aid. Simon tries not to let his expression shift hearing the hitch in his breath, but tugs the pelt tighter around his body anyways, muttering something more for his own ears than anything.

Eventually Johnny pulls away, and for a moment Simon's mind scrambles to try and figure out what the hell he does from there "you're screwed, it was a trick, run off before he calls the hounds" but again, the man simply stands, and reaches a hand out to try and help Simon up as well. He stares blankly, confused by the gesture, but snorts, shaking his head off, and begrudgingly takes it- stumbling and shaking on two unsteady legs, but eventually settled.

"Do they know your face?" Johnny questions, letting one of his hands drift to rest on Simon's back- to keep him up, no doubt, though he still bares his teeth on instinct, growling at him and lurching slightly. Shockingly, Johnny doesn't budge, only shifting his hand to rest against his shoulder, instead. At that realization, he relaxes just a bit, if only not to waste energy on useless threats, huffing instead.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. Careful it is. Not very chatty, eh?" He laughs, and for a moment Simon falters, glancing up at his face as his own relaxes just the tiniest bit, before his brows furrow again and his gaze drops, grunting quietly in reply as his nose scrunches. Johnny, ever the patient bastard, simply chuckles and rubs at Simon's shoulder, and he can't help the way he leans into the touch, really, it's not his fault.

"Don't even know your name... hope you don't mind if I stick with Ghost." He doesn't. It's familiar, by now- it's been years since he's heard "Simon" from someone else, even from himself, outside of the rare times he mutters it to try and remind himself of what his voice sounds like- of what a voice sounds like, when it's not yelling and whistling and shouting commands. He shakes off the bitter thought, growling softly and leaning up against Johnny. The human is surprised, he can smell it, but doesn't shove him off.

They walk for a while, and Johnny manages to smuggle him into the house without being caught, all while he talks Simon's ear off about the ruckus he caused and what's happened since he left. He doesn't mention the woman- the house doesn't smell like her, but stress and sorrow, instead. Something about the lingering scent, now fading out with the eagerness and happiness sticking to the man, makes Simon feel oddly comfortable. No, not just that- it's pride. The same feeling he gets after a hunt, after establishing his territory as his own, after winning a fight. He's won, here, even if he didn't intend for there to be a fight in the first place.

Johnny tries, for a bit, to find him fitting clothes, but Simon is huge, for lack of a better word, and none of them would really fit. So, he's allowed to linger in all his glory, only decent because of a pelt- not that Simon cares any. Wolves don't wear clothes. He's sure after all this time they'd feel about as comfortable as that trap.

Speaking of which... Johnny reaches for the leg, moving slowly and carefully in what Simon assumes is an attempt to not scare him or trigger his aggression. Reluctantly, he lets him, and the human takes the chance with a pleased little smile, rubbing his fingertips gently along what's now just a scar.

"Healed well, I see. Did you even need me? Never seen a wound that bad scar this fast... now I wonder if I've been tricked by a wolf."

"Would've taken another month without the help." Simon replies, his voice low, more of a growl than anything pleasant on the ears, and he can see the pure shock that crosses his human's face when he hears it. But he doesn't recoil in discomfort or disgust- just laughs and nudges at his knee.

"Well, good to know I wasn't just being used by you... hell, even if I was, I think you do deserve a bit of a chance to be lazy after all these folks have put you through, mm?" Yes, yes that sounds nice. Simon is uneasy for a moment, staring at Johnny's face, before he realizes the man's bein g genuine, and he allows a soft little snort to leave him.

"You do stink, though. Like mud and old blood..."

"Probably last kill. Got a fat rabbit." Simon hums, licking his lips at the memory, suddenly hungry once more, but the thought quickly leaves when he sees Johnny moving again, and he's quick to follow. He doesn't miss the little laugh or the shake of his head, but it seems the topic is done for now as they both set off towards another room in the house.

Johnny decides to set up a bath for him, still complaining about the smell, and Simon has the decency to pretend to be apologetic about it as he fills the tub, readying some soap that smells a bit too pleasant for Simon's tastes. For a moment he wonders if he should shift back, perhaps, if Johnny plans on scrubbing him down, figuring it would be less awkward if he took on his wolf form again, but Johnny simply guides him towards the tools he needs, offers some loose instructions, and says he'll be back with clothes for Simon- either through raiding the older man's closet (John, he learns his name is, though he decides that he doesn't like how close their names are) or through buying new ones. Simon doesn't like the idea of him leaving, but hums in response, hesitantly dropping the pelt and leaving it folded on a countertop before lowering himself into the bath.

The water is comfortable, he finds- not the warmest, per se, but far warmer than the river water he sometimes treks through if he's especially dirty- and it's still, meaning it doesn't tangle his fur... or hair, in this case. It's calming, really, enough that he decides to lean back and shut his eyes for a bit. It feels much safer in there than a little cave, after all, and his rest the night prior had been uneasy at best. It's only when the water's grown cold and he hears familiar footsteps approaching that he realizes he'd fallen asleep in the first place, perking up and lazily resting his jaw along the side of the bath as Johnny enters the room, fresh clothes in hand. They look new.

"Well, you didn't even wash up."

"Got tired. Besides, not used to having hands..." Simon mutters, stretching out with all the comfort of a fat housecat, rolling over so his weight's on his knees and he can rest his body up against the side of the tub. He's just giving Johnny a hard time, really, but finds himself tensing slightly when the man sighs, leaving the clothes on the counter atop Simon's pelt, and approaches, crouching beside the tub and reaching for a rag.

"I think you just like bein' a nuisance."

From another man, or maybe in another case, the words might sting slightly, cause some anxiety- but the amusement in Johnny's eyes and the pleasant feeling of the fabric scrubbing along his back simply has Simon sighing in something akin to relief, shutting his eyes once more and allowing his body to all but melt into the surface under him. The smell of the soap is diluted by the water, and really isn't all that bad, a hearty herbal scent that isn't too harsh on the nose. Part of Simon is tempted to sneak outside and roll around in the mud or something when Johnny's asleep just to feel it again, but that'd just be stupid, of course. Instead, he savors it while it happens, his eyes only opening when the human finally pulls away.

"Alright, you mutt. Up you go. Towels are in the cabinet, and I'll assume you know how to dress yourself..." he isn't given the time to make any smart remark or anything before Johnny's leaving the room, and he mourns the loss only for a moment before he begrudgingly moves to stand, shaking excess water off while he's still in the bath before moving to step out. His skin is clean, he finds, lacking possibly years worth of dirt and grime that had been there before. Scars remain and become slightly more prominent without the earthy coating over them, but he doesn't mind the look. Really, it's not that bad.

He almost looks normal.

It takes a while to dry off, but he finds it's much quicker than trying to get his fur to dry in the wind as he has in the past. From there, his last task is putting on the clothes Johnny had gotten him. They smell of another human, but only faintly, fresh enough- and lacking the scent of the older John- that he's sure they're new.

Simon doesn't like clothes one bit, it turns out. They're confining and uncomfortable and he doesn't like the feeling of the fabric on his body. It feels like a snake wrapped around his limbs, only with threads and seams and lord knows what else that just makes him want to scratch it all off like it's a colony of fleas.

Still, he can tell Johnny had been just slightly uncomfortable with a naked man in his home, so he deals with them even despite the urge to bite and gnaw until nothing itches anymore... he wanders around the house in search of the man, sniffing about in an effort to find him, and finally stalks into the bathroom, head lowered in an unconscious show of dislike for his threaded prison, but content with the smile that meets Johnny's face at the sight, anyways.

"There we go... could almost mistake you for a person, if I didn't know any better." He laughs at his own joke, while Simon only grunts in response. He stands there for a minute or so, before opting to move towards him and start crawling onto the bed. Johnny sighs, but makes no move to shove him off or anything of the sort, and from there it's just a matter of making himself comfortable. He finally ends up on his back, limbs stretched out lazily and one leg hanging off the bed, but cozy enough, anyways.

He's not asleep when he feels Johnny reach over to bury a hand in his hair and rub lightly at his scalp, but he does a damn good job at playing dead, anyways, not moving an inch and letting his breathing stay settled. It's good enough to lull him to sleep, anyways, a warm, nice feeling in his chest that he doesn't really want to shake.

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2demondogs · 2 days ago

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Can you do Arthur and BioKid!reader (prob age around 5-7) where Arthur sent his kid to school (around 1870, school began to become free) because even if he knows he could teach his kid the basics, he wants better for them.

As we know, schools back then did physical punishments. If a kid lacked behind their fellow students, teachers often saw it as laziness and would punish the kid.

Arthurs kid, who was very excited to attend school, came back from it sobbing their eyes out because they were canned (hit) on their hands for not understanding math and begging that Arthur doesn't send them back.

Obv Arthur, being an amazing dad, doesn't send them back and taught them stuff himself.

Weirdly enough I had a very similar experience at that age but in ballet class. Are any of us okay?

Historical accuracy was attempted. Though the image of being dropped off at school on a horse is absolutely hilarious to me. "Okay little buddy here's a cigarette for lunch, I'll clip clop back at 4. Daddy's gonna go rob a bank now. Hyah!!"

Arthur's a cigarette mom tbh. Also this took literally like 2 months for me to get to I'm so sorry LOL I wanted some familial comfort so I was finally in the headspace for it.

Words: 3k Tags: AU - canon divergence, pre-canon (circa 1888), hurt/comfort, it takes a village so the gang's all here too, angst but also a lotta fluff Arthur is just being Arthur (aka a killjoy), gender-neutral reader

Few things in his life have brought Arthur as much pride — in someone else, in himself — as the grin plastered on your face the first day of school.

Boadicea disliked the amount of people, the small kids that tried to stroke her legs before being beckoned away by their parents. Most were used to animals like her, but he could tell the city-bred ones from his own kind: brighter faces, slower walks, cleaner nails. It's the same as their parents, dressed well and sometimes in automobiles.

What an odd gathering these schoolrooms make for. He's always thought it'd be funny to have punted John in the direction of one, but he finds he's had a wrong idea about the crowd. Wouldn't have been as satisfying as he imagined when the man was just a boy, wily and jaded and just like all the other farm kids that he saw trudge in and out yesterday. (Of course, when John showed curiosity about it and asked him what the crowd was like, he told him he was far too stupid to dream of going to school. He is a father, but he ain't John's.)

In another life, he might even stick around to converse with the other parents. He'd pondered it that first day, feeding Boadicea an apple for the trip from camp some miles off and to this building on the edge of town. Arthur wondered if he had had you ten years later, and if he were not so much younger than all these parents, and if you were not so—

Well, misplaced in the world. His own fault. He thinks of it everyday.

He studies the bricks while he smokes and waits at the side of the building, now, early as he was yesterday lest he miss something important. What it would be, he doesn't know. Perhaps he just hopes you'll be given back to him sooner today, because he's coming to realize he's grown fond of knowing exactly where you are. After your mother died, the clinginess is a little more souring than he'd like to feel, so he doesn't study it.

Instead, he flicks ash off his cigarette and considers that it's going to get chilly soon. You've grown since last winter, and he ought to make sure you still fit your coat when he brings you home.

He doubts Grimshaw will mind making you another; seems to like you. Pities you, anyways, because your father is the young, dumb oaf Arthur Morgan. That woman drives him insane, sometimes, but he has learned that she cares in her own way ever since you came along. A certain softness came out in her that, rarely but truly, extended to him, too.

The cigarette is replaced by another by the time the kids begin to pour out of the doors. Youngest first, so there's no wait to see you searching for him.

Already, Arthur knows something is wrong. There's no difference from your usual face, besides whatever calm comes over it when you lay eyes on him— but that calm looks more like an ache for comfort that concerns him, even though he can't tell what, precisely, tips him off. He supposes it's the same thing that changed him to the point of considering your winter clothes, whatever thing makes him a father instead of a simple man.

The ground is tough and sandy below his knee when he drops to one to meet your eyes, brows raised in expectance of some explanation. Even your gait is quicker, your hug tighter; you aren't talking like you were yesterday, let alone grinning, and Arthur pinches his cigarette in his teeth to smooth a hand over your head and back.

That smile had made you seem so grown-up, but now you look so young and small. He takes the smoke from his lips and holds the hand to the side to keep it from your face.

"How's your day, buddy?" He asks, anyways, and frowns when you shrink in his arms and press closer. Peeling away to take a look at you, Arthur runs a hand over the side of your head to brush away your hair. He doesn't see any bruises or scrapes, but still asks: "Y'get in a fight or somethin'?"

You shake your head. His hand is large where it lays on your shoulder, firm and comforting. It only takes a moment for you to give up the silence and struggle to explain.

"She called me lazy," you say.

Arthur's brows furrow. "Teacher, you mean?"

You nod, speaking as if it's difficult not to burst into a shout. Around you, the older kids begin to pour out, but he is only focused on your voice. "She smacked me with a ruler."

"What?" He interrupts.

It comes out harsher than he means it to, and he strokes a hand over your head when you flinch. Jesus, you're on edge if you're flinching at him. Anger broils hot and instant in his gut; he knows very well how most people raise their kids and he had talked long and hard with Grimshaw for yanking on your ear one too many times but regardless, it isn't anyone's place to lay a hand on you. It isn't even his — he isn't Lyle, and you're considerably more of an angel than he ever has been himself — but it certainly isn't anyone else's.

"Where?" His eyes pass over you, searching.

Looking over the handsewn clothes Grimshaw had done-up for you, adorned with those gaudy little buttons Dutch had popped off of some nice suit jackets during a gathering he'd infiltrated some months ago, Arthur feels even more anger. Six years of raising you and dressing you in love.

It certainly is not her right to smack his child. Our child, he thinks, and the fondness only feeds the disgust. Suddenly, he wonders what you didn't tell him the first day, and if some of those wailing kids were sad for more than simply missing mother dearest.

You hold out your hands, backs up. A few knuckles are swollen, and you wince when he traces a fingertip over them to test how badly.

He bites back a sigh. He feels like he should've known this would happen, although not a single one of them has been inside a schoolhouse. Maybe Grimshaw, seems the type, but she never spoke of it. Still, Arthur thinks he should've known it the same way he knows you'll grow out of your coat this winter.

Isn't it what fathers do? Know things? Lyle hadn't been much of a father, but he always knew things.

Is Arthur worse off than him?

"Why'd she do this?" He asks.

Your face is growing redder and redder, flushed with embarrassment and shame. He wishes he had the words to soothe that, but he knows a scolding like this always leaves a certain rawness in a child. He'd had plenty of them himself.

"I was bein'... in— inatten..." The frustration of not being able to remember and repeat the word wells tears in your eyes, but Arthur's heard enough.

"Hey, it's a'right," he hushes, shaking his head. Takes a quick drag and blows it to the side. "Let's get'chu home, okay?"

You ignore him, trying to explain: "I was bad at math."

"Shit, I ain't no good with numbers, neither," Arthur says, and then catches himself. "Don't say shit. Okay?" You nod. A small flicker of your lips into a smile makes him feel better, though you still look like a kicked puppy and it makes his heart ache. "Let's get'chu home," he repeats, and this time you listen.

He's never seen Hosea so displeased.

That's untrue; he has, over gunshots and blood-puddles. It feels like a gunshot to see you burst into tears, curled into the man's chest after Arthur tried to encourage you to talk to him about what happened. He had always been better with words, but he remembers while watching him handle your sobbing that Hosea has always been better with comfort, too.

Hardly had the man picked you off your spot hugged to Arthur's front atop Boadicea — did so yesterday too, and if today was just as happy then Arthur would've been glad to see it turn into a habit — before you broke into tears once more. He had quieted you eventually on the ride with the promise of not returning, although he intended to talk it over with the others before he decided once and for all.

Our kid, he thinks warmly, and then: I feel like a kid myself. Some things come naturally when you have a child, he's finding, but so much of it just doesn't.

"Teacher smacked 'em with a ruler. Poor thing's knuckles are all..." Arthur explains, sighing heavily, waving with a hand in the air as if to say: fucked up. Hosea will jump off that crate he's sat on and smack him if he talks that foul in front of you. At least I'm grown enough to take a flick to the nose, he thinks bitterly. "Doesn't wanna go back, now."

Hosea seems to struggle through the same thoughts as he did, prying your hand off his chest to take a look. It's normal for others, though not for them. Not with you, at least. He can almost see the memories of similar punishments in his eyes. Still, Hosea pats your back and picks you off himself to hold your face.

"You think your Daddy knows everything you need to know, anyways, do you?" He asks.

It's a tease, mostly, humor to get you to stop crying. You're too upset to realize, and only nod. Arthur could cry himself at that. I'm still a kid myself, he thinks, in the back of his mind; Hosea only smiles at him, before righting his expression to look at you.

"I figure we all do," he says. Looking to Arthur, he raises his brows. "You intendin' to try again?"

Arthur sighs, shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't feel so dissimilar to you: vaguely ashamed, upset, embarrassed. "I was gon' ask what'chu thought I oughtta do," he admits.

Almost imperceptibly, Hosea's face softens further. "Well," he says, looks back to you to dry your eyes and wipe your nose with the sleeve of his button-up. Natural-born for a man that's never raised kids this young. "I never was in school, 'n' I'd say I'm quite well-educated."

"Never had a class on humbleness, I see," Arthur says.

Hosea snorts. "Don't listen to him," he says without sparing a glance.

"What's humbleness?" You ask, oblivious.

"Oh," Arthur says, steps forward to ruffle the hair atop your head. "Y'see, Uncle Dutch is real humble."

The other man bites his cheek to stave off a smile. "Arthur," he warns, looking up at him.

But it's a good opportunity to send you off and allow the two of them to talk in private, so he leans over to catch your gaze. "If you go tell Dutch he's humble, I'll give you a dollar," he promises, patting your shoulder.

"Is humble mean?" You ask.

"Y'catch on quick," Arthur says, grinning. John has certainly given you coins to say worse to him, though he found it funny each time. Your face is puffy and red, and he finds it sweet that you paused every other thought going through your head to consider it. "No, it ain't mean, sweetheart. Very nice, in fact."

Very mean to lie about, he thinks, and when you turn on your heel to go and earn yourself a dollar, he knows you will be just fine. Hosea laughs only when you've pattered away.

"Odd critters, kids," Arthur says. He sounds far too fond.

It was an easy choice. It had been a stretch to even take you to school, and the adults had all agreed that you'd likely miss most of it, anyways. They could only change so much about their lives, even if it was no way to raise you.

Sometimes Arthur wonders what it'd be like to live a normal life with you. To find someone to help him raise you proper, like a civilized family. He doesn't speak of it, but he's sure they all know that he wonders. Maybe they do, too. He thinks on it less after testing those waters with school, but once in a blue moon, the dream comes back to him.

Arthur ran into a block, as far as teaching you how to read went. He'd sat you on his lap and tried his damnedest to answer the fifty questions that every sentence of Dutch's borrowed book provoked you to ask, but he had run out of answers very quickly despite it being one of the simplest ones he had to offer.

For the last two days, he has been laying awake at night trying to answer why, exactly, bear means both an animal and an action that seemingly makes no sense. Tried and failed to use Hosea's beat-up old Bible to teach you a few words, because by the second verse it was losing him a little, too. That one made him feel quite stupid.

Hosea is better suited for that, they'd decided. He seemed a little tired being asked to teach yet another person to read, but Arthur knows that irritation is only skin-deep and watches it disappear whenever you're around. When Arthur said he wasn't sure where to start with writing, either, Hosea put a hand on his shoulder and told him the alphabet in a tone that told him he was on his own, unless he really got too lost.

It is fair. Arthur wants to teach you as much as he can, too, finds a sort of warmth about it.

The pride he feels watching you copy the alphabet he'd printed out — as steady as he could, admittedly nervous he'd screw it up and somehow damage your intellect forever, is this what being a dad feels like? — was greater than any he'd felt before. Your handwriting is unsteady, and he has to readjust the pencil in your grip more than once, but by all accounts, it is much easier to answer what sound does this make? than what's a garden?

He lets you work. Arthur likes, too, that this way your first writings will be kept in his journal. He already protects it like a sacred thing; now, it'll probably be on his body or in his pocket until you're old enough to marry someone. Even then, if all goes well, he'll have it.

Oh, how the thought of you growing up distresses him. He can't imagine what you might look like older, even though it sneaks up on him every year come your birthday that your eyes and nose are looking more adjusted to your skull, that your face is sharpening out from baby-round. He could hardly picture John as anything but the scraggly little mutt Dutch dragged back into camp when he had. It's a familiar, more intense fear.

Shit, Arthur doesn't even know what he himself will look like come three year's time.

He's twenty-five and still changing. Will he see what your face settles on?

Is this what it is to be a father?

He thinks so. There can't be any other truth, because he's faced this feeling every time you've hit a milestone. He was glad you didn't need to be carried constantly anymore, but so very depressed that you could walk; he was overjoyed when you said his name clear as day for the first time, but he was terrified at the thought that he may one day be Arthur to you.

It's sad, but it makes him smile when you look up and proclaim that your wobbly rendition of the letter W — dubba-yuh, as you say, he won't ever get over how children always sound like they are drunk — looks almost exactly like his.

Grimshaw and Hosea make a fuss, playing cards at the poker table some yards away. You ignore them entirely, absorbed in your own little world, writing at your own pace. With ears that turn off so easily, he worries about how you'll do hunting. He could've heard Grimshaw asking Hosea in exasperation why he's not cheating, you old fool, from a mile away.

Then comes Dutch, after you've scrawled a few more letters. Walking quiet up to the pair of you sat in the grass outside Arthur's tent, observing from above you before he speaks.

"Arthur?" He asks, and he sounds odd, considering that they're doing nothing unusual.

He looks up. "Yeah?"

Dutch points to the open journal. You look between them, then, interested in whatever is going on now that your dad is involved. "Did you forget the letter Z?"

Arthur squints, looks back at the journal. Oh. His ears turn red, but he only clears his throat. "I mean, who uses Z anyways?" He dismisses.

The prospect of being able to show some kind of smartness beyond a full-grown adult's seems to excite you. "Where's Z go?" You ask Dutch.

He kneels, takes the pencil and book from you to write it in after Y. In cursive. Christ, Arthur thinks, but he doesn't say anything.

"Right here, my dear," he says. Handing you the pencil back, he smiles as you skip over the others to add your own interpretation early. "Now, will you cover your ears for me?" Perplexed, but you obey anyways. Arthur is already narrowing his eyes before Dutch turns to him. "You are a goddamn fool, you know that?"

There's no malice in it, only amusement. He looks positively chuffed, which almost irritates Arthur more than if he truly meant to call him an idiot. "Who even uses Z?" He repeats, waves a hand. "It ain't that big'a mistake."

"I don't know," Dutch scoffs. "A zebra?"

"A zebra?" Arthur says, in disbelief. "You ever seen one for y'self?"

Dutch's brows raise. "Are you—?" His face falls into mock graveness. "Arthur Morgan," he says, feigning disappointment. "You can't be serious."

"Well, have you?"

"I ain't gon' dignify that with a response," Dutch says, turns to smile at you. He always smiles at you, at least, Arthur likes that about the man. He plucks one of your hands off your head. "You're good, now, honey. Keep writin'."

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stardustedknuckles · 5 months ago

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When I was in Oklahoma there were these pokemon go players, blue team, and they would drive out to the park behind my house and take over all the gyms. Which.... Whatever. But if you knocked their pokemon out, these grown ass men (I never saw more than two despite there being six pokemon in each gym) would get in their big trucks and show up a full ten minutes later to kick you out again. It was about a ten minute walk to the park, dark and often cold so like. As a recent yellow team member to join my sister, there was nothing I could do. They actually camped out in their truck behind a fence out of sight once and spent an hour kicking people out but not taking the gym over. Bunch of kids getting real bummed out and we all thought each other was responsible, but we ended up talking and realized none of us was doing it. I saw the truck parked on the way home, idling around the corner.

It wasn't a lack of coins. They were just dicks and it legitimately made me mad. They also had a guy on red team who would come around and knock their stuff out for them so they could refresh their coin gathering. Complete bullshit.

Context for tonight, when I'm in bed and the yellow gym I can hit from my apartment starts going nuts. There's this one guy who comes by every night and takes over this gym and two more. I kicked him out tonight. He came back. War ensued, and since I was a little high I could feel myself fixating on this but was unable to stop. I could feel the stress coming back of not being allowed to get coins, that frustration. I'm not repeating that experience and I'm not quitting over this, so what can I do? Only one thing.

Anyway after nearly two hours of bullshit (I took breaks) it was very satisfying to grab the team medallion, swap to blue team, and put a magikarp named midfinger up next to their 4k tanks. Petty, yes. But I started out blue team anyway and I HATE the way the yellow team guy looks so I had already been considering it for the past week every time I had to look at him. Really, this was just a nudge.

Now we hope he and his buddy don't swap teams too. It would admittedly be very funny. (important context: you can only swap teams once a year)

#My sister is very 😭 about me leaving yellow team but she admits this is iconic #Which is very generous of her because it's actually extremely pointless #But because of the weed I can feel pleasure and it felt very nice to be like no and fuck you #I don't have money to spare buying coins all the time #I am in fact allowed to be petty once in a blue moon and this was a problem that could be solved and now it is #Those asses never let other blue team people in either if they could help it #It was a very small town and on the edge of that town so it was legit the same people every time

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willowfey · 1 year ago

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starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

#the first thing i do when i become conscious is check my phone to make sure nothing terrible happened to anyone i love while i slept #i never ever ever have plans and if anyone Else has plans i feel sick with anxiety until they’re back from them #if i have smth planned that week i feel completely tense and on edge until it happens #i didn’t used to be like this i hate hate hate it #i used to feel safe in my little house in the forest where i knew everyone in town and knew my way around with my eyes shut #it’s still the only place in the world i feel safe. that’s so unfair #my separation anxiety is ridiculous. if my mom goes to the store and doesn’t answer a text right away i start panicking #if my sister goes to a class or smth idk what to do with myself until she gets back #if i’m in the shower or have the fan on or headphones in suddenly i’ll think i hear someone shouting and i’ll have to quickly turn it off #ever since i moved here it’s been getting worse. i don’t feel safe here to begin with i feel so out of place it’s unreal #but then covid and trauma with my mother’s health and my uncle dying and multiple relatives getting sick and things happening to my friends #i know i have ptsd from very specific things that happened and i live on a hospital path so every day i hear sirens #and every time i do it fully triggers an anxiety attack in me for at least an hour. and my mom too #since being here my hometown burned and friends i thought would never grow apart did and my brother moved out #i know a lot of that is just Being In Your Low Twenties but also some of my worst trauma has happened in the last handful of years and now #now i’m just always scared. always uneasy. always worried. never fully relaxed. never feel fully safe. & idk how to be myself through that #i’m always paranoid and i never trust people irl anymore. ppl my mom or sister meet. i am so suspicious of them constantly.#if anything small changes at all i can’t handle it. my ability to deal with change has gone so downhill #in the last 5 years of being here i realised i was autistic which led to me unmasking a bit and that. comes with pros & cons doesn’t it #my own health has declined. my body changed a lot in ways i wasn’t prepared for and i had to get rid of most of my comfort clothes #sometimes i just wanna sit on the ground and cry about it and not have to also be the one that picks myself back up. y’know???#but at the very least i’d love to just wake up One Day w/o feeling sick with anxiety already. just one day i want to wake up feeling rested #i want to be myself again but can i start with not being scared? not being tired? i don’t know what to do anymore #i just watch my comfort videos and read my comfort fics and stay in my daydream world

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it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined · 2 years ago

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But safe, clean, accessible public bathrooms just.. everywhere (this is a Whole Thing in London because they existed but are closed!!).

Also wide pavements with a predictable layout that doesn't change AND restricted street furniture. You can't learn a route with visual impairment that then has constantly changing hazards and obstacles and lacks room for people to pass (and has cyclists taking short cuts across the fucking pavements and running red lights because that is a thing that happens constantly).

London is a city where it's actively difficult and expensive to drive, so yep we do walk etc. But the pavements are also full of construction scaffolding that restricts the flow of movement for pedestrians, plus discarded electric scooters and bikes and fuck knows what are strewn all over the place by irresponsible people and a lack of regulation for vendors.

We have theoretically accessible public transport, but just look at what happens the minute any escalators or lifts are taken out of service in a big station - there are so few back up options. If you can't get down to the platform to get a tube then you may well be sent on a massive detour via a packed bus to get to the next accessible station.

"Walkable city" is not "City where to have to walk everywhere."

"Walkable city" is.

Sidewalks big enough to fit you, your stroller, your wheelchair, your guide dog, or anything else you need when you're getting from one place to another.

Safe crosswalks frequent enough so you don't need to walk in traffic.

Bike lanes to keep bikes out of foot traffic and car traffic.

Accessible and affordable public transit.

Cities where the essentials are close enough you can travel on foot (or in wheelchair)

Cities where it's reasonable to be able to get from point a to point b without requiring you, yourself, to drive

People get so caught up in the "Walkable" part of the term and like to spout "Walkable cities are abelist because not everyone can walk".

Bitch. The modern city structure is abelist because not everyone can drive. And classist because not everyone can afford a car and it's pretty damn impossible to get a job if you don't have a car.

Walkable cities are cities where people can reasonably get from pointA to pointB without requiring a motor vehicle.

"But fae. Disabled people have issues using the paths in modern cities." Bitch abled people can barely use the paths in modern cities. That's kind of the fucking problem.

Also walkable cities have fucking benches. Not only for disabled people. But sometimes you just twist your ankle and need to sit for a moment.

"Put fae. If you have benches, homeless people will sleep on them."

Then get fucking housing for the homeless. Problem solved. They'll sleep in their nice warm homes instead of on the benches.

-fae

#i could rant about this all day #i live on the edge of the city deliberately so i can walk to a station with frequent trains into town #my life is so small here without a car and it's exhausting #every small errand takes an hour longer by public transport than it would do with a car #my point is that you can have most the theoretical trimmings of a walkable area and it still not be ~practical~ in very real ways #i cant visit my goddaughter because there are zero ways to cross the Thames into kent from here without going via central London #UNLESS YOU DRIVE

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syluss-littlecrow · 2 months ago

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massagers and misunderstandings

Haphazardly leaving your little toy in Sylus's room after your playtime wasn't part of the plan.

The good news is that the vibrator was in Sylus’s room.

The bad news is that the vibrator is currently in Sylus’s hands.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, vibrator play x mirror sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex, sylus teasing the everloving shit out of you, breeding kink, (light) choking, dacryphilia, shit load of orgasms

w/c: 2.1k

a/n: shout out to the loml @rafsfishstick for helping me out with this and also giving me this fuck ass idea. Now y'all gna suffer with ME. you're welcome 🩷

Shit, shit, shit. Where is it?!

You've been flipping your whole bedroom upside down over an important missing device. You swore you kept it in the drawers of your room, or at least, you thought you did.

Unfortunately, it went over your head that staying with Sylus for extended periods had you getting very comfortable with leaving your belongings around.

Including your vibrator.

Well, Sylus didn't need to know about it.

In your defense, it was lonely in the mansion without him. And when you did miss him while he was gone, you'd sneak into his room (not that he minded), lie on his bed and let his scent just engulf you completely.

Well, you had your needs too.

And usually you'd just keep your vibrator in your room within the mansion.

And unfortunately for you, this was not one of your usual times.

When the realisation hit you that you in fact did absentmindedly stash your toy hastily in one of his drawers during one of the nights when he told you he'd be away from town for a while, you bolted to his room, hoping, praying, that Sylus hadn't reached his chambers before you did.

The good news is that the vibrator was indeed in Sylus’s room.

The bad news is that the vibrator is currently in Sylus’s hands.

Fuck me, you think, a million useless excuses flooding in and out of your mind.

Maybe you could knock him out and snag the toy from his fingers.

Yeah, like that could ever fucking work with his level of reflexes.

“Aren't you coming in, kitten?”

His usual pet name sends goosebumps flooding your skin.

“Good evening, Sylus”, you force a smile, trying to ignore the way he’s fidgeting with your vibrator.

“This wouldn't happen to be yours, would it?” He asks, dangling the silicone vibrator before you. “I've never seen you use it before.”

You could smack the smug look off his face if you had the chance to, but for now, you force a smile, reaching out to take the device from him.

“It's just a massager”, you lie horribly.

Of course he fucking shifts it away from your grasp.

He narrows his eyes at you and decorates his expression with a sharper smirk.

“Right, because massaging devices look unassuming like this, and you happen to decide to have a little massage session in my room?”

Fuck.

There's no way out of this.

His smirk fades. He puts an arm out to beckon you closer.

His eyes reflect tints of something else, like a reminder that you're about to turn into his prey.

And you can't help but always fall into his trap.

“Now, won't you show me how you use your little massager, sweetie?”

You watch him twirl the vibrator between his slender fingers, touching and feeling the buttons on his fingertips. He has your legs spread apart in front of him at the edge of the bed. You’re carefully observing your partner as it takes him barely a few minutes to figure your toy out when it buzzes to life.

“Don't look so scared, kitten. I'm not about to eat you”, the gaze Sylus is giving you says otherwise. Unfortunately, there's a twisted stem of anticipation that's slowly flooding your veins. You wonder what he's about to do to you, and it's getting you excited.

He smirks when his gaze lands on the small damp patch of fabric on your pussy. He wants to make it bigger.

Sylus grazes his knuckles against your clothes pussy, and it draws a gasp from you.

“I have to say, sweetie, your little massager here has quite the strong vibrations”, Sylus teases. His arm curls around your legs, pulling you slightly closer to him, before he presses the buzzing toy on your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you knew it was coming, you still jumped from the sensation instantly.

You crunch your abdomen when you feel Sylus rolling the vibrator up and down your pussy, watching with sheer satisfaction at the way the dark patch on your pussy continues to grow darker and bigger.

“How does it feel, kitten?” He asks with a smile, and you're not sure if you're getting soaked from the vibrator or from Sylus eye fucking you.

“Tickles…” you force yourself to answer. You hear him hum from below, before your mind shuts off when he shifts the vibrator right to your clit, and applies pressure right there.

But it's not enough.

You know he's fucking with you. He's teasing you–especially when he intentionally lowers the vibration to a dull buzz, taking away the build up, only leaving you whining for more.

But at the moment where you're able to catch your breath, the vibration climbs in levels again, leaving you fisting the sheets and his shirt. Sylus removes his arm around your thigh, and hooks a slender on the damp piece of fabric, tugging it outwards.

“Should we get this out of the way, sweetie? It's bothering you isn't it?”

You nod, still trying to regulate your breathing, your mind racing at the thought of Sylus being the one pressing your vibrator on your bare, wet, sticky pussy.

He lets you close your legs to roll the panties off your hips, only to disappear behind you for a split moment.

His husky voice rings in your ears.

“Open, sweetie.”

You feel his fingers brush on your chin, and he gestures to you to face the front.

You're facing the mirror.

The view of your legs spread open, the sight of your glistening pussy right before your reflection makes you swallow hard.

Sylus’s finger slither down to your sopping folds, spreading your pussy open.

“So fucking pretty for me, aren't you?”

Your fingers clutch tightly against his shirt, the desperation for him to do just anything coming out as a beg when you whisper to him, “please, Sylus.”

His other hand switches on the vibrator once more, and he aims it right on your fucking clit. It makes you jump, and before you realise it, your orgasm hits you–white engulfing your vision, the pleasure shooting through your veins at lightning speed and your pussy uselessly and desperately clenching the air. Sylus captures your lips with his, eating your fucked out moans while he drags your orgasm out, rolling the toy in circles around your clit, collecting the sheer wetness with his fingers and vibrator.

He pulls the vibrator off you, at least, momentarily, to let you descend from your high.

Sylus watches you through the mirror–you, in tears, a small puddle just under where you're sitting and just a creamy fucking mess your pussy is.

“So this was what you were doing when I was gone?”

He watches the way your ears turn red.

Sylus’s fingers keep you staring at him through the reflections.

“I got lonely when you weren't here…”

“Right. I'm sorry for that, sweetie. I should make it up to you, hm?”

You couldn't even proceed to ask him how before he lifts you onto his lap, and the view before you makes you swallow harder–his cock just resting against your bare pussy.

His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear.

“If I told you that I crave so fucking much to just see you the moment I leave, would that leave your mind at ease?”

“No”, you mutter, then gasp when he presses his dick along your folds, dragging his cock so painfully slowly against your pussy. “Nothing is enough if it's not you being here in the flesh.”

He chuckles–it feels warm and it spreads through all over your body.

“Greedy kitten”, is all he replies before he stretches you open, taking the gorgeous sight of you completely falling apart for him as he fits his cock in you.

“That’s a good girl for me. You're taking me so well. Fuck, look at you swallowing me up”, he groans, greedily wanting to just keep all the wet warmth for himself.

It has been a couple of long weeks since he was gone, and fuck was his cock quite a stretch. He fills you up so fucking good every single time.

He listens to you sigh shakily, trying to adjust. He feels the way you're squeezing his thighs with your hand.

You feel so good around him. You feel so good for him.

You hiccup when you feel Sylus thrusts his cock right into you again. You're so fucking overstimulated, your sensitivity climbing up in hundreds, but Sylus still trails the vibrator across your clit in pulses, making your head fall back against his shoulders, your moans bouncing off the walls of his room. It doesn't help that he's forcing you to soak in the sheer perversion of view that's presented before you.

“You're squeezing me so much, kitten”, he hisses into your ears when he feels your pussy clench around him once more. He's in fucking heaven.

But of course, he loves playing with his prey a little more.

The moment he feels you start flutter, he lifts the vibrator off your clit. It makes you gasp.

Then he thrusts his hips upwards, pressing against your sensitive spots. You watch the way his cock just disappears in you, all the way in, and it's starting to make you light-headed.

“Can your little vibrator make you make that face, kitten?”

You see the tear stains that streak down your face, your eyes still watery. Fuck, of course it doesn't.

“Maybe”, you answer shakily, and you watch his eyes fucking glow right before you in the mirror.

Sylus laughs.

“I guess I should change that, right?” He responds. His fingers are now on your throat, and his other hand lay flat on your thigh.

“Then I'd better make sure I make you see fucking stars. Fuck you hard and good, right?”

His fingers tighten around your throat.

Sylus is a fucking menace.

You don't even remember the existence of your vibrator. Not when Sylus is fucking the ever-loving shit out of you from below, and that you're watching it through the fucking mirror–every thrust detailed perfectly under the lights, his fingers cutting oxygen from you from time to time.

He's forcing you to cum with his dick.

And it's fucking working..

Much thanks to the horrible edging he's done to you, you're a fucking overstimulated mess–so sensitive and broken that when you're about to flood, you're begging him.

“Gonna cum, Sylus, please. I'm gonna cum so much. Fuckkkk-”

It fountains out of you and pushes him out, spraying all over the mirror and the sheets. You don't know what Sylus is muttering in your ears but you know he's fucking slapping your pussy, more fluids spraying out to his satisfaction.

After the clear fluids, only the thick cream comes after, and Sylus doesn't hesitate to slide his cock back in, filling you up once more, cream settling and slicking down his shaft with every thrust. Your thighs are still twitching from how fucking good it feels.

“Have I told you that I adore ruining you so much? Because I do adore ruining you so much, sweetie”, he groans. His face contorts in pleasure so fucking beautifully in the mirror while he bottoms out in you, his cock twitching and letting thick streams of warm cum filling you up. He lets himself stay in your pussy for a second or two, before he pulls out, only a thin string of cum linking his cock and your pussy.

Sylus forces you to watch his fingers once again pull open your pretty folds, and thick white seeps out of your hole in loads.

You see him plant a kiss on your temple before he effortlessly scoops you up to wash up with him.

You swear you didn’t leave it in his room this time round. You learned your lesson. When Sylus had his butler change out the soiled sheets, you had pocketed back your vibrator and kept it in a safe part of your room so Sylus wouldn’t get his hands on it again.

At least, that’s what you thought, because the vibrator seemed to have disappeared again.

Shit, did you have to intrude into Sylus’s room again? Well sure, he was gone for a couple of days, so you used his bed for a couple of days…but you were sure as hell that you brought the vibrator back with you when you on the day Sylus came back.

Unsuccessful with the search in Sylus’s room, you return back to yours, wondering if the mansion had just sucked up the vibrator into thin air.

That is, until you see Sylus on your bed.

With your vibrator in his hands.

#l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds smut #love and deep space smut #love and deep space sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus qin #qin che

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monstersflashlight · 5 months ago

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Big and muscular orcs who's hands had only known to bring death to his enemies for years, he had never only focused on anything except leading his tribe to victory and protecting it as he is the chieftain.

Until he met his Elven wife, small and petite who's carefree, gentle and very soft. He never have been intimate with them ever since marriage, afraid he's going to break them into two like a twig.

Not until he saw how his wife would tend to the children on his tribe, playing with them and telling them stories, how they would tend to them like a mother, full of love and gentleness and He began to imagine what It'd be like to have children of their own

He found himself pounding into them every night, his huge cock barely fittin in, his tip kissing the entrance of their cervix, pumping their womb full of his seed, hoping that one It'd root.

i love orcs mwuehehheheh

Breeding surprise

Orc x fem elf!reader || breeding, knotting, size kink, cum inflation || tw: mentions of pregnancy

When you married the orc warrior, you weren’t expecting the reality of it. In your first year of marriage, you barely saw him because of the ongoing war, he was far away fighting for wars that weren’t his, not yours… But when the war stopped? Good lord you were expecting that even less.

He arrived home on a random Wednesday and you weren’t even there. You were at the market when the bells rang announcing the warriors were home. You ran back to your hose in the edge of town, and there he was, waiting at the door with the wildest look you’ve ever seen.

Contrary to what everyone thought, you two married because you liked each other, not because of convenience or love or anything like that. He was good looking, and you were good looking, and you both were tired of looking for people, so it just seemed normal to marry a friend and just be happy with it.

That’s why when you arrived home that day and found him with that wild look in his face you weren’t suspecting anything. You approached him with a smile in your face and your pointy ears twitching, you were so happy your best friend was back you were about to vibrate out of your skin. You were about to hug his middle when he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up until you were face to face with him.

And then he kissed you. He kissed you so deeply and so thoroughly that your brain was fuzzy by the time he released you. You couldn’t even ask what was all that about before he had you naked over your living room table and was eating your pussy out until you were screaming his name. He had such a smug expression in his face after that... you wanted to hit him. But instead you pushed him until he was sitting down on the armchair and proceeded to ride him until he was spilling everything inside of you.

That was the first of many. It was like something broke between you two and your friendship was no longer that. Your marriage turned a lot more real than any of you suspected. At first it was just lust and shared passion, but it soon turned into so much more. He looked at the children at the market with longing in his eyes, and when you returned home he fucked you in earnest. He knew perfectly that orcs and elves could only procreate if you had that special potion, otherwise it was just a fun little thing you played where he filled you to the brim and then watched it drip down, just to fuck it back into you again.

Until one day, you decided it was time. He left to go hunting and you prepared the potion, drinking it down and leaving a tiny bit on the glass so he would know.

You got naked and started prepping yourself. He usually enjoyed eating you out, but this time around, with the promise of possible breeding, you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back. And as much as you enjoyed his huge orc dick, you also needed some prep for your tiny elf pussy if you didn’t want to be destroyed.

You were three fingers in when you heard his footsteps entering the house. “Honey, I’m home!” You giggled at his antics and said nothing. You could feel the moment he realized what the glass was, because his steps stopped completely and you could hear him take a deep breath. You knew what he could smell… You being fertile, ready to be breed. “I hope this is not a joke or I swear to…” He appeared at the door of the room and gaped at your naked form, already squirming with pleasure right in front of him. “Are you sure?” He asked, looking at your fingers more than at you.

“Yes. Fill me up,” that’s all it took for him to rip his clothes away and jump over your body in the bed. You giggled as your body shook up and down with the force.

His hands pushed your fingers away, replacing them with his own as he started talking frantically. "Gonna fill you so deep you are going to be leaking for hours after, just so I can slide right in and fill you again, would you like that? Would you like to be filled over and over like you are my own personal fuck toy?" You weren’t expecting that level of dirty talk and you were speechless, your pussy twitching around his fingers was the only answer you could provide. “Of course you do, of course you want to be filled to the brim and used until I’m completely spent.” He kept finger fucking you until you were breathless, begging him to fuck you over and over. He didn’t, not yet. He pushed your legs further apart, licking around his fingers buried in you and sucking on your clit until you came all around him.

“Come on, come on, come on…. Please, husband.” That always worked, reminding him that you were his, not only in body, but in every aspect that mattered… That did it for him. And for you.

He covered your tiny body with his and got into position, you were more than ready, stretched and prepared for him. He didn’t care about your need, though. He only cared about fucking you so thoroughly you couldn’t walk the next day. He only cared about breeding you until you were full of him. So he fucked you slowly, so, so slowly that you were crying out in desperation and he was laughing at how needy you were. But he secretly loved it. Loved how much you needed his cock.

He made you come twice before he started fucking you in earnest. Fast and hard, rapidly approaching his own orgasm. And then, even though you knew he could pop a knot, he never did before. But what you were feeling was definitely his knot, pressing against your entrance, demanding entry. And he did. He entered you completely as your eyesight turned white with pleasure as the knot pushed right over your G-Spot. It was the most intense sensation ever.

And when he started to come inside of you, you felt like you were ascending into heaven. Like your body transcended into a new reality, and the only thing that existed were you and his knot deeply buried inside your pussy.

You came down from the high, and he was still coming. And coming. And coming so much you could feel it dripping down around his knot, filling your womb until your lower abdomen was bloated and your cervix felt overused. It was marvelous.

He rolled his hips to give you some pleasure, your body shaking with aftershocks as he kept coming inside your pussy. When the knot came down, your eyes were already half closed. You didn’t know if you were pregnant, but you definitively knew you were doing that again as soon as you woke up from a tiny nap.

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waves-against-a-cliff · 4 months ago

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After the end - Post-apocalyptic Omegaverse AU

Summary - You missed the end of the world. Fine by you. You thrived in your new surroundings, content to be on your own. Until something happens during your third winter.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. Uh... This came to me in a fever dream. Consider this a prologue. 141 x reader

You think you're pretty lucky all things considered. You had always been self sufficient and your childhood gave you skills you were able to call on after the entire world shat itself. To be honest, you hadn't even noticed the world had completely gone to ruin until you tried to call your pharmacy to refill your heat and scent suppressants.

The line was dead. So you called the grocery store. Dead. The movie theater, the diner, the post office. Dead dead dead. Panic seized you by the throat and you dropped your home phone onto the ground. You splashed cold water onto your face and looked into the mirror with puffy eyes and shaking hands.

What were you going to do? The world couldn't have ended. Right? You should have noticed sooner. "Fuck," you said, pulling on your shoes and grabbed your car keys, you got into your car, "fuck!"

As it turns out, you did in fact miss the ending of the world. You yelled obscenities and banged on your steering wheel. The entire small town you lived near was deserted. Windows were boarded up and cars were parked by the road with tires missing or windows smashed in.

You missed the entire end of the world.

As it turns out, the end of the world wasn't that bad. Nothing really changed. Well besides the rarity of getting your hands on heat suppressants and scent blockers. The first week after you finally got caught up on the whole "the world has ended" thing you raided.

You avoided using your car after you got a mild scare that someone else had been attracted to the noise. Hiding in the very smelly gas station bathroom while you listened to the sound of boots crunching on glass was enough to teach you that lesson.

You tore apart the pharmacy the first week, finding what had to be at least four months worth of scent blockers and nine months of heat suppressants. You took everything you deemed useful and stuffed it into your backpack before hiking back home.

You set up a routine, patrol the forest edge twice a day, care for your garden and check any trap for animals to eat. Self sufficiency had never been such a blessing.

It was the middle of winter three years later when you first saw them.

Men. No, not just men. Alphas. Their scent almost made your knees buckle when you smelt it down wind. For a moment your mind went hazy as their smells flooded your mind until that part of your brain that had been responsible for your survival kicked back in.

Alphas. In your territory. Your territory. It felt like a crime and you felt your inner omegas turmoil. As you watched the four men walk down the road that led into town through your binoculars you debated on what you should do. Run, flee while you are down wind. With shaky hands, whether from the cold or fear you didn't know, you climbed down from the perch you were on and sprinted back home while doing your best to cover your own tracks.

You went in circles, outside in the cold long past when your hands and feet had gone cold. But you were sure they couldn't follow. You were sure they didn't even know you were there.

Three years. You had been off of heat suppressants and scent blockers for years. After a while your heats had stopped coming, whether it was from lack of sleep or stress or some evolutionary thing that happened when no one to mate was around, the bottom line was that you were unprepared.

You boarded up your door and threw water on your fire. You grabbed every blanket in the house and ran into your bedroom. At first you did it for warmth. If you were going to hide you couldn't have fire to give out smoke and you needed to be warm.

Then you continued to mess with the blankets and pillows. You huffed, growing increasingly frustrated at your inability to get it right. You grabbed your laundry and threw it in too, arranged and rearranged until it felt right. It wasn't until you took a step back that you realized what you had done. Something you haven't in years. Before you was a nest. Large enough to fit many in it. Maybe even five. You swallowed hard as your fingers dug into your stomach. It was going to be a long winter.

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theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

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Teach 'Em a Lesson: The Bold Guide to Putting Bullies in Their Place

Gaeul x Male Reader

word count: 7.2K

You're chilling at Gaeul's place with the crew, sprawled on her comfy couch playing Pokemon on your phone. Your friends are getting restless, talking about grabbing some pizza from that fancy joint across town.

"Yo guys, let's roll! I'm fucking starving," one of your friends says, jangling the car keys.

Everyone starts walking towards the door, but there's only room for five, and there are six of you. Well, you are very focused on your game, so without much suffering you accept the mission to be exiled from the pizza run.

But...

Gaeul waves goodbye to them, saying she'll stay behind as well.

"Someone's gotta babysit the nerd," she snickers, jerking her thumb at you.

You barely look up from your game, used to her constant teasing. At 5'5; Gaeul's a tiny thing but she makes up for it with attitude. Her boyish style - baggy jeans, oversized hoodie hiding her small tits - doesn't stop her from being hot as fuck.

Not that you'd ever admit that to her face.

The door slams shut and suddenly it's just you two. The silence feels different now. Gaeul flops down next to you, peering at your screen.

"Seriously? Pokemon? No wonder you can't get any pussy,” she taunts, poking your arm.

"Fuck off, I date plenty," you mutter, trying to focus on your battle.

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Yeah right! Name one girl you've fucked."

"None of your fucking business." Your ears burn but you keep your eyes on the screen.

"Ha! Virgin alert!" She's grinning now, enjoying getting under your skin. "Bet you've never even kissed anyone. Too busy jerking it to anime titties."

Your jaw clenches. "I said: fuck off…"

"I don't know how we have friends in common."

"Shut up, Gaeul..."

"Make me, virgin boy!" She snatches your phone, holding it just out of reach. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Something snaps inside you. In one fluid motion, you grab her wrist and pin her against the couch. She squeaks in surprise, eyes going wide. your phone falls onto the couch seat next to you.

"The fuck did you just call me? Say it again!" you growl, pressing her down. Your body covers hers completely.

"I-I... virgin boy?" Her voice wavers but there's a glint in her eye that wasn't there before.

You grip both her wrists now, holding them above her head. "Ha! Wrong answer."

Her breath hitches. You can feel her pulse racing under your fingers. That's when you notice it - the way she's squirming isn't to get away. Her thighs press together, hips shifting restlessly.

"Holy shit," you breathe. "You like this, don't you? The tough girl act is just that - an act."

"N-no!" But her face flushes red and her nipples are hard points visible through her hoodie.

You lean down, lips brushing her ear. "Lying bitch! I can feel how wet you are through your jeans." She whimpers, and that sound goes straight to your cock. "Wanna see how much of a virgin I am?" You grind against her, letting her feel how hard you are.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Just proving that even an annoying brat like you can turn me on too."

"Fuck you, n-nerd…" she whispers, but there's no bite in it. Her pupils are dilated, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I'm not fucking kidding. Bedroom. Now." You release her wrists but maintain eye contact, daring her to disobey.

For a moment she hesitates, then scrambles up and leads the way to her room.

The second you're through her door, you grab her hoodie and yank it over her head. No bra underneath - her small tits are perfect handfuls topped with hard pink nipples.

"Fucking slut, walking around braless," you growl, pinching one nipple roughly. She cries out, legs trembling. "Bet you were hoping for this, weren't you?"

"No, I... ah!" She gasps as you twist harder.

"Still lying?" You spin her around, bending her over the edge of her bed. "Let's see how wet you really are."

You pull her jeans and cotton boyshorts down to her knees. Her pussy is dripping, juice running down her thighs.

"Look at that," you laugh darkly, running two fingers through her folds. "Soaked just from being manhandled a little. What a pathetic little sub you are."

“I-I'm not pathetic…”

She tries to close her legs but you kick them apart, keeping her spread wide. Your fingers circle her clit, making her moan.

"Please..." she whimpers.

"Please what?" You slide one finger inside her tight hole. "Use your words, slut."

"Please... oh… fuck me..." Her voice is barely a whisper.

You add a second finger, pumping them slowly. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"Fuck me!" she practically screams. "Please, I need your cock!"

"That's better." You pull your fingers out and wipe them on her ass. "But first..."

Your hand comes down hard on her right cheek. She yelps but pushes back for more.

"Gonna spank this attitude right out of you."

You alternate cheeks, watching them bounce and jiggle. Each hit makes her pussy drip more, a puddle forming on the floor. Her ass turns a beautiful shade of pink.

"Count them," you order.

SMACK!

"One!" she gasps.

SMACK!

"Two!"

By ten, she's sobbing and rutting against nothing. Her ass is bright red and hot to the touch.

"Good girl," you purr, rubbing the beaten flesh. "Now, on your knees!"

Half nervous and half anxious, she hurriedly gets rid of the pieces of clothing still on her knees, almost tripping in the process.

You take off your shoes and unzip your jeans, taking off your pants along with your underwear, letting your rock-hard cock spring free.

The sight before you makes your cock throb with anticipation - Gaeul, the annoying little brat who's been pushing your buttons for months, completely naked and on her knees in her bedroom. Her petite body trembles slightly as she stares at your massive erection, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and unmistakable lust.

You've finally figured out her game. All those times she went out of her way to irritate you, to get under your skin - it wasn't just random bitchiness. No, this pathetic slut has been desperately trying to get your attention the only way she knew how.

"Like what you see?" you growl, slowly stroking your shaft. "This is what you've been after all along, isn't it?"

Gaeul swallows hard, her small breasts rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her nipples are rock hard, betraying her arousal despite her attempts to play innocent.

"I... I don't know what you mean..." she stammers, but her eyes remain locked on your cock.

You step closer, close enough that your cockhead brushes against her flushed cheek. She gasps but doesn't pull away.

"Don't play dumb with me, you little tease. All those times you went out of your way to annoy me, to get under my skin... you were just begging to be put in your place, weren't you?"

Your hand shoots out to grab a fistful of her silky black hair, yanking her head back roughly. She yelps in surprise and pain, but you can see her thighs pressing together, trying to relieve the ache between them.

"Look at you, getting wet just from being manhandled again," you taunt, using your free hand to slap your cock against her cheek. "Such a pathetic little slut. Admit it - admit what you really are!"

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your grip.

You tighten your hold on her hair, making her gasp. "That's not what I want to hear. Tell me the truth - tell me why you've been such an annoying little bitch."

Tears form in the corners of her eyes, but they're not tears of fear or pain.

No.

These are tears of shameful arousal as she finally faces what she really is.

"Because... I-I'm sorry… because I wanted this," she whispers.

"Wanted what? Be specific, whore."

"I wanted you to get angry! To put me in my place!" The words burst from her like a dam breaking. "I wanted you to see what a desperate slut I am! Please... please use me..."

You smirk, satisfied with her confession. "That's better. Now open that bratty mouth of yours - time to put it to better use than talking back to me."

Gaeul parts her lips eagerly as you press your cockhead against them. Her tongue darts out to taste you, making your shaft twitch. But you're not interested in letting her take her time exploring.

Gripping both sides of her head firmly, you thrust forward, forcing your thick cock past her lips. She gags immediately as you hit the back of her throat, but you don't let up.

"Relax that throat, slut," you command. "You wanted my attention? Well, now you've got all of it."

You start fucking her face properly, each thrust going deeper than the last. Tears stream down her cheeks as she struggles to accommodate your size, but her eyes are glazed with unmistakable lust.

"Look at you, choking on cock like you were born for it," you taunt as you bottom out in her throat. Her nose presses against your pelvis as you hold yourself deep, cutting off her air. "Is this what you imagined when you were being an annoying little tease? Getting your throat used like a cheap fleshlight?"

Gaeul can only make gurgling sounds in response, drool running down her chin and coating your shaft. You hold yourself there until her face starts turning red, then pull back to let her gasp for air.

"Please..." she begs hoarsely between coughs. "I need more... need you to fuck my pussy too..."

"Oh, you'll get that tight cunt stuffed soon enough," you promise. "But first, I'm going to make sure you never forget what happens to bratty little sluts who don't know how to ask nicely for cock."

You slam back into her mouth, setting a brutal pace that has her gagging and retching around your shaft. Her throat spasms beautifully with each deep thrust, but she doesn't try to pull away. Instead, she grabs your thighs, trying to take you even deeper.

"Such a natural cocksucker," you grunt, watching your dick disappear between her stretched lips over and over. "All that attitude, and all you really needed was to be throat-fucked into submission."

After thoroughly using her mouth, you finally pull out. Gaeul gasps for air, her face a mess of tears, drool, and smeared makeup. Without giving her time to recover, you grab her arms and throw her onto the bed.

"Ass up, face down," you order. "Show me that needy pussy you've been hiding under those baggy jeans."

She scrambles to obey, getting into position and arching her back to present herself to you. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, her inner thighs glistening with her arousal. You run your cock through her soaked folds, coating it in her juices.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," you observe. "Your cunt's practically drooling. Beg for it, slut! Tell me how badly you need this cock."

"Please fuck me!" she cries out, pushing back against your teasing shaft. "I need it so bad... need you to fill me up and use me like the whore I am! I've been such a bad girl, teasing you all this time... please punish my pussy!"

You line up with her entrance and thrust in hard, making her scream. Her cunt is incredibly tight, gripping your cock like a vice as you force your way deeper. Each inch stretches her walls, making her whole body tremble.

"Fuck, you really are a desperate little slut," you grunt, starting to pound her roughly. "Your pussy's practically sucking me in. Is this what you've been dreaming about while playing your little games?"

Gaeul moans uncontrollably, her whole body shaking as you ravage her tight hole. Each brutal thrust makes her small tits bounce and jiggle. You reach down to pinch and twist her nipples, making her clench even tighter around your cock.

"Yes! Yes! Harder!" she begs shamelessly. "Use my slutty pussy! Make me your fucktoy! I've wanted this for so long!"

You increase your pace, slamming into her cervix with each stroke. The wet sounds of your cock plowing her needy cunt fill the room, along with her desperate moans and whimpers. Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, practically gushing around your shaft.

"You're going to cum on my cock like the whore you are," you tell her. "Then I'm going to take that virgin asshole too. Going to claim every hole you've got."

Her pussy spasms at your words.

"My... my ass? But I've never... No… it's too big..."

"That tight little hole belongs to me now," you growl, reaching around to rub her clit roughly as you continue pounding her pussy. "I'm going to stretch it out and fill it with cum. Mark you as my personal fucktoy."

Gaeul's moans rise in pitch, her body tensing up as your fingers work her sensitive clit. Combined with the relentless pounding of her pussy, it's quickly pushing her toward the edge.

"Cum for me, slut. Show me how much you love being used like this."

She screams as her orgasm hits, her pussy clamping down hard on your cock. You fuck her through it mercilessly, prolonging her pleasure until she's sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

Without pulling out, you gather some of her abundant wetness and press a finger against her virgin asshole. She whimpers as you slowly work it inside, her tight ring of muscle resisting the intrusion.

"Please be gentle..." she begs. "I've never had anything in there..."

"You'll take what I give you," you growl, adding a second finger to stretch her tight hole. "This ass is mine now, just like the rest of you."

You finger-fuck her thoroughly, making sure she's ready for your cock. Her whimpers of discomfort gradually turn to moans of pleasure as her body adjusts to the new sensation. You can feel her pushing back against your fingers, hungry for more.

Finally, you pull out of her pussy and press your cockhead against her stretched asshole. "Deep breath, slut. Here comes your first assfucking."

You push forward slowly but steadily, watching your cock disappear into her virgin hole. Gaeul cries out, clutching the sheets as you stretch her wider than your fingers did. Her whole body trembles as you claim her last untouched hole.

"That's it, take it all," you encourage as you sink deeper. "Such a good little anal slut... taking cock in your virgin ass like you were made for it."

When you're fully buried in her ass, you pause to let her adjust. Her whole body is shaking, caught between pain and pleasure as her tight hole stretches around your thick shaft.

"Move..." she finally whispers, her voice thick with need. "Please... fuck my ass... make me completely yours..."

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, gradually building up speed and depth. Her tight hole grips your cock beautifully, sending waves of pleasure through you. Each stroke becomes easier as her body accepts the invasion.

"Look at you, taking cock in your virgin ass like a natural," you taunt, watching your shaft disappear into her stretched hole over and over. "You really are just a complete whore, aren't you? Born to take cock in all your holes."

"Yes, sir!" she moans, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "I'm your whore! Your anal slut! Please fuck me harder! Use my ass!"

You grant her wish, picking up the pace until you're properly fucking her ass. The sight of your cock plunging in and out of her stretched hole is incredible. You reach around to play with her dripping pussy, finding her clit swollen and sensitive.

"You're actually getting off on having your ass fucked," you marvel, feeling how wet she still is. "Such a perfect little fucktoy... getting your virgin ass stretched and loving every second of it!"

Gaeul can only moan in response, her body rocking with each thrust. You can feel her getting close to another orgasm, her holes clenching rhythmically around your cock and fingers.

"Cum for me again," you order, rubbing her clit faster. "Cum while I fuck this tight ass. Show me what a complete slut you've become."

Your fingers work her sensitive nub as you pound her ass, and soon she's screaming through another intense orgasm. The way her asshole spasms around your cock pushes you closer to your own climax.

"Where do you want my cum, slut?! Tell me how you want me to mark you as mine."

"In my ass!" she begs desperately. "Please cum deep in my ass! Fill me up... make me yours completely! I want to feel your hot cum inside me!"

You grab her hips with both hands and start fucking her ass with abandon, chasing your release. Her tight hole feels amazing, squeezing and milking your cock perfectly. Each thrust makes her whole body shake, her moans getting louder and more desperate.

"Take it all," you grunt as you finally explode, flooding her ass with hot cum. "Every last fucking drop... marking this tight hole as mine forever..."

You stay buried deep as you empty yourself inside her, making sure she takes every drop of your seed. When you finally pull out, cum immediately starts leaking from her gaping hole, running down her thighs in thick rivulets.

Gaeul collapses onto the bed, thoroughly used and satisfied. Her holes are red and swollen, leaking your cum and her own juices. You give her ass a hard slap, making her jump and moan weakly.

"From now on, you're mine," you tell her firmly. "No more bratty behavior - unless you want another lesson like this one. Understand?"

She looks back at you with glazed eyes, cum still dripping from her well-fucked ass. "Yes, sir... I'll be good, I… fuck… I promise..."

“Too busy catching Pikachus to catch some pussy, huh? What a shitty stereotype…”

"I thoug-"

“Shut up. Answer me: still think I'm a virgin?" you ask with a smirk.

She laughs weakly. "Definitely not. Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to sit right for days.”

"Good." You give her ass one final smack, making her yelp. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before talking shit.”

"Maybe," she grins. "Or maybe I'll just have to keep provoking you."

You grab her hair, pulling her in for a rough kiss. "Careful what you wish for, little slut. I might just have to teach you another lesson." She moans into the kiss. Your lips move down to her neck, where you leave a few bite marks, just so she remembers you when she looks in the mirror later. "The others will be back soon," you remind her. "Better clean yourself up before they see what a whore you really are."

Gaeul struggles to sit up, wincing at the soreness in her ass.

You head back to the living room, leaving her to clean up the mess you made of her. When you settle back on the couch and pick up your phone, the Pokemon game is still running.

A few minutes later, Gaeul emerges, walking down the stairs with a certain distrust in her expression, wearing fresh clothes, but walking with a slight limp. She sits gingerly on the opposite end of the couch, unable to meet your eyes.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently. "You're usually so talkative."

She squirms uncomfortably. "Shut up..."

"That's not very nice, Gaeul." You give her a warning look. "Do we need another lesson already?"

Gaeul's eyes go wide and she quickly shakes her head. "No! Not now! I-I mean... I'll be good."

"That's what I thought." You turn back to your game with a satisfied smile, knowing you've finally found the perfect way to handle your bratty tomboy bully.

—

The sound of cars pulling up outside announces the return of your friends. Gaeul quickly tries to fix her messy hair and straighten her clothes, but there's no hiding the fresh bite marks on her neck or the slight tremor in her hands.

"Hey guys, we're back with pizza!" calls out one of your friends as they enter the house. "Hope you two didn't kill each other while we were gone!"

If they only knew.

Your friends pile into the living room, carrying several pizza boxes and drinks. They seem oblivious to the tension in the air or the way Gaeul can barely sit still.

"Everything okay?" one of them asks, noticing Gaeul's unusual quietness. "You seem different."

“I'm fucking fine!”

Gaeul blushes deeply. Your friends look confused but shrug it off, too focused on the food to question further.

As everyone settles in to eat, you catch Gaeul stealing glances at you when she thinks no one is looking. Each time your eyes meet, she quickly looks away, but you can see the mixture of fear and arousal in her expression.

You make sure to sit next to her on the couch, close enough that your thigh presses against hers. She tenses but doesn't move away, especially when you rest your hand on her knee under the pretense of reaching for a slice of pizza.

"So what did you guys do while we were gone?" someone asks between bites.

"Just played some games," you say casually, squeezing Gaeul's thigh. "Taught Gaeul a few new things."

She nearly chokes on her pizza, earning concerned looks from your friends. "Are you okay?" they ask as she coughs.

"Fine," she manages to say. "Just... went down the wrong way."

You smirk, knowing exactly what went down her throat earlier. Your hand slides higher up her thigh, making her squirm.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of pizza, conversation, and subtle torment as you continue to tease Gaeul under the radar of your oblivious friends. Every touch makes her jump, every whispered comment makes her blush.

Now you understand why she teases you.

It's so fucking pleasurable.

When everyone finally starts heading home for the night, you hang back, pretending to look for your phone. As the last friend leaves, you corner Gaeul in the kitchen.

"Think you learned your lesson?" you ask, pressing her against the counter.

She nods quickly, her breath catching as you lean in close. "Yes... I won't be mean anymore."

"Good girl." You grab her ass roughly, making her gasp. "But just to make sure it sticks..."

Before she can protest, you spin her around and bend her over the kitchen counter. Your hand slides into her shorts, finding her already wet.

"Fuck, you're soaked again," you growl in her ear. "Did you get turned on sitting there in front of everyone, knowing what a whore you are?"

"Please," she whimpers. "They might come back..."

"Better be quiet then." You pull her shorts down just enough to expose her ass and pussy. "Wouldn't want them to see their tough tomboy friend being used like a fucktoy."

You unzip your pants and line up with her entrance, sliding into her still-tight pussy in one smooth thrust. Gaeul bites her lip to keep from moaning as you start fucking her against the counter.

"Such a good little slut now," you grunt, gripping her hips. "Amazing what a proper fucking can do to fix an attitude problem."

Your pace increases, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the kitchen. Gaeul's legs shake as she tries to stay quiet, small whimpers escaping despite her best efforts.

You reach around to rub her clit while you pound into her, feeling her pussy clench around your cock. Her whole body trembles as another orgasm approaches.

"Please," she whispers desperately. "I'm so close..."

"Cum for me," you command, working her clit faster. "Show me what a good girl you can be."

Gaeul buries her face in her arm to muffle her scream as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around your shaft. You fuck her through her orgasm until she's practically sobbing from overstimulation.

Just as you're about to cum, you pull out and spin her around, forcing her to her knees. "Open your mouth. Take your reward like a good slut."

She obeys immediately, looking up at you with those big eyes as you stroke your cock. With a grunt, you explode all over her face, covering her in thick ropes of cum.

"Don't move," you order as you tuck yourself away. "I want to remember you like this - on your knees, covered in my cum, finally learning your place."

Gaeul stays still, cum dripping down her face onto her chest. She looks thoroughly debauched and completely submissive.

"Clean yourself up," you say, heading for the door. "And remember - any time you start acting like a bitch again, this is what happens."

As you leave her house, you can't help but smile thinking about how different things will be now. The dynamic between you and Gaeul has shifted completely - no more will she bet the untouchable tomboy who loves to torment you. Now you know what she really needs, what she's been craving all along.

—

You sit in class, bored as fuck scrolling through your phone under the desk. A notification pops up - it's from Gaeul. Your heart skips a beat seeing that familiar contact name. Opening the message, you nearly drop your phone - this crazy bitch sent you a pic of her tight ass with an anal plug inserted, taken in what looks like the girls' bathroom. The caption reads "Missing your fat cock stretching me out... meet me after class? 😈"

You adjust yoursel in secret, already getting hard remembering how you bent her over your desk yesterday and fucked her tight ass until she was begging for more. It still amazes you how things changed between you two. For months she tormented you - calling you names, tarnishing your image at college, making fun of you in front of your friends…

Until that one day you finally snapped.

Now here you are three months later, sexting during class while pretending nothing's changed in public, with a phone full of filthy videos and pictures of your former bully. Videos of her fucking herself with toys, close-ups of her stretched holes, clips of her begging for your cock. On the surface she still acts tough, but you know the truth - she's just a needy anal slut who craves being dominated.

Your phone buzzes again - another pic from the bathroom, this time showing her fingers buried in her dripping pussy. "Can't wait anymore... Come fuck me NOW!!"

You raise your hand, making up some bullshit excuse about feeling sick. The professor waves you out and you practically run to the second floor bathroom where you know she's waiting. The halls are empty since class is still in session.

You slip inside the second floor bathroom and there she is - still in her typical tomboy getup of baggy jeans and oversized hoodie. Her short hair is slightly messy and her cheeks are flushed. The contrast between her tough exterior and what you know lies underneath makes your cock throb.

"Took you long enough, nerd," she smirks, but you can see the desperate hunger in her eyes. Her tough girl act doesn't work on you anymore - not since you discovered what a submissive little slut she really is.

"Shut the fuck up," you growl, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the cold tile wall. She gasps, her pupils dilating with lust. "Sending me pictures like that while I'm in class... you're such a desperate whore."

"Hmm, maybe I am," she taunts, grinding against your obvious bulge. "What are you gonna do about it?"

You tighten your grip on her throat, using your other hand to roughly grope her small tits through her clothes. Even through the baggy fabric you can feel her hard nipples. "I'm gonna remind you exactly who owns this body."

"Big talk from a ne-" Her words cut off in a moan as you spin her around and bend her over the sink, yanking those loose jeans down to her thighs. She's not wearing any underwear, the slut. The metal plug glints between her ass cheeks, just like in the picture she sent.

"Look at you, walking around with a plug in your ass like a proper anal whore." You give her pale ass a hard slap, leaving a red handprint. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all morning."

"Fuck... yes..." she admits, dropping the attitude as you start playing with the plug. "Haven't stopped thinking about it since last night..."

You slowly twist and pull the plug, watching her asshole grip the metal. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear the tough tomboy beg."

"Please..." she whimpers as you pop the plug out, her hole gaping slightly. "Need your cock in my ass..."

"Not good enough." You spit on her exposed hole and start working one finger in while she squirms. "Be specific. Tell me exactly what you need."

"I need... fuck..." A second finger joins the first, stretching her wider. "Need you to fuck my ass raw... need you to remind me what a slut I am..."

"Keep going." Three fingers now, roughly fucking her loosened hole while she pants and moans. "Tell me how this nerd turned you into such a whore."

"You... ah!... you showed me what I really am..." Her pussy is literally dripping onto the floor as you finger-fuck her ass. "Showed me that I'm just a cockhungry anal slut... please, I need it so bad..."

"Need what?" You curl your fingers, making her gasp.

"Need your fat cock stretching my ass! Need you to fuck me like the worthless whore I am! Please, I'll do anything!" She's practically sobbing now, all traces of her usual attitude gone.

You pull your fingers out and quickly undo your pants, letting your rock hard cock spring free. "Look at yourself in the mirror while I fuck you. I want you to watch yourself break."

Her eyes meet yours in the reflection as you line up with her gaping hole. Without warning you thrust all the way in, making her cry out. The sound echoes off the bathroom walls but you don't care - you need to put this bratty bitch in her place.

"Fuck! So big..." she moans as you establish a brutal pace, watching your cock disappear into her tight asshole over and over. She tries to muffle herself by biting her sleeve but you grab her hair and yank her head up.

"No. I want to hear every slutty sound you make. Let everyone know what a whore you are." You reach around to roughly pinch her nipples through her hoodie. "Who would believe that the tough tomboy loves taking it up the ass?"

"Only... only for you..." she pants, her whole body shaking as you rail her. "You're the only one who gets to use me like this..."

"Damn right." You pull almost all the way out before slamming back in, making her yelp. "This ass belongs to me. I fucking own you."

Your words make her moan even louder. You can see in the mirror how completely wrecked she looks - face flushed, eyes glazed, mouth hanging open as she takes your cock. Such a different sight from her usual cocky expression.

"Touch yourself," you command. "Play with that dripping pussy while I destroy your ass."

She immediately reaches down to rub her clit, her fingers moving frantically. The extra stimulation makes her ass clench around you even tighter. "Gonna... gonna cum soon..."

"Already? Such a slutty response." You increase your pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bathroom. "Cumming from getting your ass fucked in a public bathroom... what would your friends think if they could see you now?"

"Don't care... fuck... just don't stop!" She's openly crying now, tears of pleasure running down her face as you pound her mercilessly.

You grab her hips hard enough to bruise and really start hammering into her. Each thrust makes her whole body jerk forward, her small tits bouncing under the hoodie. "Come on then, cum for me. Show me what a buttslut you are."

Her orgasm hits hard - her ass spasms around your cock as she practically screams into her sleeve, her legs shaking so bad you have to hold her up. You don't slow down, fucking her through the intense climax.

"Good girl... but we're not done yet." You pull out suddenly, making her whine at the emptiness. "On your knees. Time to remind you what you're good for."

She drops to her knees immediately, looking up at you with those desperate eyes. Your cock is right in her face, still slick from her ass. Without being told, she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue.

"That's right, taste yourself like the dirty slut you are." You slap your cock against her tongue a few times before shoving it down her throat. She gags but takes it like a champ, months of practice evident in how she relaxes her throat.

You grab her short hair with both hands and start properly facefucking her, using her mouth like a pussy. Tears stream down her face and drool drips from her chin but she doesn't try to pull away. If anything she moans around your cock, clearly loving the rough treatment.

"Look at me while I use your throat," you command. Her eyes lock onto yours, full of submission and need. "Such a good little fucktoy... so different from the bitch who used to bully me..."

She reaches down to play with herself again as you fuck her face, two fingers buried in her soaking pussy while her other hand works her clit. The sight of the former bully masturbating while choking on your cock pushes you closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum... gonna paint that pretty face..." You pull out of her mouth, still gripping her hair. "Stick out your tongue and beg for it."

"Please..." her voice is hoarse from the throat fucking. "Please, babe, cum on my face... mark me as your whore... I need it..."

You stroke yourself rapidly, aiming at her upturned face. "Here it comes slut... take it all..."

Your orgasm hits like a truck, shooting thick ropes of cum all over her face. Some lands on her tongue but most covers her cheeks, nose, and forehead. She moans as you mark her, still frantically fingering herself.

"Don't you dare wipe it off," you pant as the last drops fall onto her lips. "I want you to remember who owns you."

She nods, face completely glazed with your seed. "Yours... all yours..."

You tuck yourself back in while she stays on her knees, cum slowly dripping down her face. "Clean yourself up and get back to class. But leave the plug in - I want your ass ready for round two later."

"Yes sir," she says softly, finally dropping the last pretense of attitude.

As you head for the door, you turn back for one last look. She's still kneeling there, face covered in cum, jeans around her thighs, asshole gaping slightly.

Such a perfect sight.

"Oh and Gaeul?" You smirk as she looks up at you. "Try not to be such a bitch for the rest of the day. Or I'll have to teach you another lesson."

She shivers at the threat, clearly already looking forward to it. "No promises... might need another reminder later."

You leave her there to clean up, already planning how you'll use her next. Who would've thought that all it took to tame the tomboy bully was a good ass fucking?

The bell rings as you head back to class, already getting hard again thinking about round two. Maybe you take her home and fuck her in your bed, or if she can't wait that long, an empty classroom will do just as well.... The possibilities are endless when you have such an eager anal whore at your disposal.

—

Later that week, you're hanging out with friends at the campus coffee shop when Gaeul suggests everyone come to her place to watch something.

—

The movie blares on the TV screen, flickering shadows across the room. Your friends are all sprawled out, zoned in, eyes glued to the action unfolding. But you? You’re only half-paying attention because Gaeul's sitting beside you, her hand resting a little too close, fingers drumming against the couch arm. Every slight touch feels like electricity shooting through your veins.

Then she shifts, stretches out her arms with a feigned yawn. "I'm grabbing something upstairs," she mumbles to the room. No one even looks up. She rises, tossing a quick, knowing glance your way before slipping out. Your cock throbs in your pants as you watch her walk away, her ass moving in those intentionally short shorts.

You count to sixty slowly before making your own excuse.

"Just gonna grab another beer," you say casually. No one even looks up from the TV.

Perfect.

Your heart pounds as you climb the stairs, already imagining how you're going to wreck that tight ass. The door to Gaeul's bedroom is slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. You open the door slowly and there she is, sitting cross-legged on the bed, waiting for you, her ankle bouncing impatiently.

“I thought you’d never show up,” she says with a smile.

Without wasting any time, you approach and spin Gaeul around and roughly bend her over the edge of the bed, yanking her panties down in one swift motion. Your cock throbs at the sight of her tight little asshole already glistening with lube - this dirty slut came prepared, knowing she was going to get her ass destroyed tonight.

"Fucking horny little whore," you growl, giving her ass a hard slap that makes her yelp. "Already lubed up and ready for my cock. Bet you've been thinking about this all day."

"Please," she whimpers, pushing her ass back toward you. "Need it so bad..."

You unzip your pants and pull out your rock-hard cock, giving it a few slow strokes as you admire her puckered hole. Your free hand spreads her ass cheeks wider, making her squirm with anticipation.

"Beg for it," you command, rubbing your cockhead teasingly against her entrance. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Fuck, please... need your fat cock in my tight little asshole," she pants desperately. "Want you to stretch me open and wreck my ass while everyone's downstairs. Please fuck me like the anal slut I am!"

You press your thick tip against her hole, watching it start to stretch around your girth. "Such a dirty fucking whore, begging to get ass-fucked with your friends right below us. What would they think if they knew their tough tomboy friend was really just a cock-hungry buttslut?"

Gaeul moans as you start pushing into her impossibly tight hole. The lube helps, but her ass still grips your cock like a vice as you feed more and more of your length into her. You can feel every ridge and fold of her inner walls clinging to your shaft.

"Holy fuck, you're so tight... No matter how many times I ruin your ass, it always looks like virgin territory," you grunt, gripping her hips harder. "That little asshole is squeezing my cock so good."

"More," she gasps, biting down on her pillow to muffle her sounds. "Fill me up, stretch my ass open!"

You continue pushing forward until your balls are pressed against her dripping pussy. Your entire cock is buried in her ass, making her feel completely stuffed and stretched. You hold still for a moment, savoring the incredible tightness.

"That's it, take every inch like a good little anal whore," you growl in her ear, reaching around to roughly grope her small tits. Her nipples are rock hard between your fingers. "Ready to get that ass pounded?"

"Yes! Please fuck me hard," she begs in a desperate whisper. "Wreck my tight hole!"

You pull back until just the tip remains inside, then slam forward balls-deep in one brutal thrust. Gaeul lets out a choked cry into the pillow as you establish a rough rhythm, your cock pistoning in and out of her stretched asshole.

The wet sounds of anal sex fill the room - the obscene squelching of lube, the meaty slap of your balls against her pussy, the muffled moans she can't quite contain. Her whole body rocks with the force of your thrusts as you hammer into her tight hole.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear over and over into her gripping asshole. "Love seeing this tight little hole stretch around my fat cock. Such a perfect anal slut."

You grab a handful of her hair and yank her head back, making her arch her spine. The new angle lets you drive even deeper into her ass, hitting spots that make her whole body tremble.

"Harder!" she gasps, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "Fucking destroy my ass, make me your buttslut!"

You respond by increasing your pace, absolutely ravaging her tight hole. Your heavy balls slap against her soaking wet pussy with each thrust. She's so turned on that her juices are running down her thighs.

"Look at you, getting your pussy all wet from taking it in the ass," you taunt, reaching down to rub her swollen clit. "Such a nasty little whore, getting off on having your asshole stretched open."

Gaeul can only whimper and moan in response, completely lost in the pleasure of being used. Her ass grips and pulses around your cock, trying to milk the cum from your balls.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes you both freeze. Your cock throbs inside her stretched hole as you hold perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The footsteps pause right outside the door.

Your hand clamps over Gaeul's mouth as you stay buried balls-deep in her ass. You can feel her heart pounding, her asshole clenching even tighter around your shaft from the fear of getting caught.

After what feels like an eternity, the footsteps continue past the door and fade away down the hall. As soon as they're gone, you resume fucking her even harder than before, driven wild by the close call.

"Dirty fucking slut, almost got us caught," you growl, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "Maybe I should let them catch us, let them see what a cock-hungry anal whore you really are."

She shakes her head frantically but her pussy gushes at the thought, coating your balls in her juices. The way her ass grips you tells you she's getting close to cumming.

"That's it, squeeze that cock with your tight little hole," you grunt, feeling your own orgasm building. "Gonna flood this ass with cum, mark you as my personal buttslut."

Your fingers work her clit faster as you pound her stretched asshole. Gaeul's whole body starts to shake as she approaches her peak. Her inner walls clamp down almost painfully tight around your thrusting cock.

"Cum for me," you command. "Cum with my fat cock buried in your ass like the anal slut you are!"

She explodes around you, her orgasm making her squirt all over the bed as her ass spasms around your shaft. The intense tightness pushes you over the edge and you grunt as your cock swells.

"Take it, take my fucking load," you growl as you empty your balls deep in her ass. Rope after rope of hot cum floods her stretched hole while she continues to shake and moan through her own orgasm.

You keep thrusting through both your climaxes, making obscene squelching sounds as your cum starts leaking out around your cock. Her ass is still rhythmically clenching, milking every last drop from your balls.

When you finally pull out, her gaping asshole immediately starts leaking your thick load. You watch mesmerized as white cum drips down her thighs and pools on the bedspread below.

"Holy fuck," Gaeul pants, collapsing onto the bed. Her hole is still twitching and leaking, thoroughly used and marked as yours. "That was so fucking good..."

You give her ass one slap, admiring the way it makes more cum leak out. "That's what happens to me when you keep teasing me all day long. Get your ass stretched and filled with cum while your friends are right downstairs."

She shivers at your words, reaching back to feel her gaping, cum-filled hole. "My ass is gonna be so sore tomorrow…”

"Yeah, and you love it, don't you?!"

Your cock gives an interested twitch as you watch her finger herself, scooping some of your cum out of her stretched hole. To your surprise and arousal, she brings her cum-covered fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean.

"Dirty fucking slut," you growl, feeling yourself starting to harden again already. "You really can't get enough, can you?"

She grins up at you, still tasting your cum on her tongue. "What can I say? You've turned me into such a whore for your cock. Especially in my ass."

You grab her hair and pull her up for a rough kiss, tasting yourself on her lips. Your rapidly hardening cock presses against her stomach as you devour her mouth.

"Ready for another round already?" she asks breathlessly when you break apart, feeling your erection growing. "Gonna wreck my ass again?"

"Fuck yes," you grunt, spinning her around and pushing her face-down into the mattress. "Gonna use this tight little hole until you can't walk straight tomorrow."

You spread her ass cheeks, admiring how her gaping hole is still leaking your previous load. The sight of your cum dripping from her stretched asshole has you rock hard again in seconds.

"Please," she whimpers, wiggling her hips invitingly. "Fill me up again, use me like your personal anal slut!"

You line your cock up with her cum-lubed hole and push back inside with one smooth thrust. She's still incredibly tight despite being stretched and filled with your load.

"Fuck, love how this greedy little hole just swallows my cock," you growl, starting to pound her ass again. "Such a perfect little anal whore, always ready to take it in the ass."

The mixture of cum and lube makes obscene squelching sounds as you fuck her stretched hole. Your previous load leaks out around your shaft with each thrust, running down her thighs.

"Yes! Use my ass, wreck my tight little hole!" she moans into the pillow. "Love being your anal slut!"

You grab her hips and really start hammering into her, making the bed creak dangerously. Her whole body bounces with the force of your thrusts as you ravage her sensitive hole.

Your balls slap against her dripping pussy, already coated in a mixture of her juices and your leaking cum. The dirty sounds of anal sex fill the room once again.

"Such a nasty little whore," you grunt, reaching around to pinch and twist her hard nipples. "Getting your ass fucked twice while your friends are right downstairs. Bet you love the risk of getting caught, don't you?"

"Yes!" she gasps, pushing back to meet your brutal thrusts. "Love being your secret anal slut, love taking your fat cock in my tight little ass!"

You pull her up by her hair until her back is pressed against your chest, changing the angle of penetration. Your cock drives even deeper into her stretched hole as you fuck up into her.

"That's it, ride this cock like the buttslut you are," you growl in her ear, one hand around her throat. "Show me how badly you need it in your ass."

Gaeul starts bouncing on your cock, working her hips in tight circles that make her ass grip you like a vice. Her small tits bounce with each movement as she impales herself on your shaft.

"Gonna cum again," she whimpers after a few minutes of riding you. "Please make me cum with your cock in my ass!"

You throw her back down onto the bed and really start drilling her stretched hole, pounding her g-spot through her ass wall. Your fingers find her clit again, rubbing quick circles as you ravage her.

"Cum for me, you dirty anal whore," you command. "Cum all over my cock while I wreck this tight little asshole!"

She explodes around you for the second time, her whole body convulsing as she squirts all over the already-soaked bed. Her ass clamps down painfully tight on your thrusting cock.

The incredible tightness pushes you over the edge again. You bury yourself balls-deep in her spasming hole as your cock swells and pulses.

"Take it, take another load in this slutty ass," you grunt as you empty your balls inside her again. Rope after rope of hot cum floods her already-full hole while she continues to shake through her own orgasm.

When you finally pull out, her thoroughly used asshole gapes obscenely, leaking a river of white cum onto the bed. She collapses face-down, completely fucked out and marked as yours.

"Holy fuck," she pants, reaching back to feel her destroyed hole still leaking your loads. "Fuck, I'm gonna be leaking your load all night now."

"Next time I'm gonna make you wear a plug to keep my cum inside you," you tell Gaeul as you lay down next to her, catching your breath. "Make you sit through the whole movie feeling your ass full of my load."

She shivers at the thought, clearly turned on despite being thoroughly fucked out. "Fuck, I don't think I've ever been as naughty as I am with you now...." After a moment, she rolls over to face you with an unusually serious expression. "Hey... I need to tell you something," she says quietly. "I'm getting tired of hiding this. Hiding us."

Your heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... fuck, this started as just casual sex after you put me in my place that day. But somewhere along the way I actually started having deep feelings for you." She looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability. "And I'm sick of pretending I don't."

You're quiet for a long moment, processing this. "I feel the same way," you finally admit. "Have for a while now."

Her eyes snap back to yours. "Really?"

"Really." You pull her closer. "I love how you try to act all tough, but I know what a needy little slut you really are. Love making you fall apart on my cock. But I also just... love being around you. Even when we're not fucking. I love when you laugh at my jokes now, much better than when you pretended not to like them. I always thought your laugh was cute."

A genuine smile spreads across her face - not her usual cocky smirk. "So what do we do about it?"

"Well, we could tell everyone we're dating," you suggest. "No more sneaking around."

"Mmm..." She pretends to consider it. "Or we could keep this our dirty little secret for a while longer. The sneaking around is pretty hot."

You grin and squeeze her ass. "True. Nothing like fucking you with the risk of getting caught."

"Exactly." She kisses you deeply. "Let's give it another month of secret fucking. Then we can go public."

"Deal." You slap her ass playfully. "Now get dressed before they come looking for us."

She quickly pulls her clothes back on, wincing slightly. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to sit in the chair tomorrow in class."

"Good." You zip up your pants. "Something to remember me by while you study."

You head back downstairs first, trying to act casual as you rejoin the group. A few minutes later, Gaeul returns with a bowl of chips like nothing happened.

But you catch her squirming uncomfortably on the couch, feeling your cum leak out of her ass. The secret knowledge of what you just did makes your cock start to stiffen again.

She notices and gives you that familiar smirk. You know you'll be sneaking off to fuck again before the night is over. Maybe this time you'll bend her over the bathroom sink and stuff her pussy full of cock while she tries to stay quiet.

The thought of all the secret hookups to come over the next month has your head spinning. Every stolen moment will be even hotter now that you know there are real feelings involved.

But for now, you focus on the movie and try not to make it obvious that you just railed your friend's ass upstairs.

The perfect crime - except for the cum still dripping down her thighs.

#Gaeul smut #kim gaeul #ive gaeul #kpop male reader #kpop smut #kpop gg #kpop #kpop gg smut #gg smut #smut oneshot #gaeul #gaeul ive #ive smut #dom male reader #kpop m!reader #kpop male oc #m!reader #ive #kpop ive

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

would you write a part two to whimsy!reader totally knowing remus’ secret? i feel like r would be so sweet and casual about it that remus would cry

Thanks for requesting!

cw: post-moon werewolf Remus, mention of blood and wounds (no description)

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.4k words

The boys usually send you away this time of month. They try to be subtle about it, encouraging you to go visit your family or sleep over at a friend’s house, but you’re not one to let the full moon pass you by without notice. It didn’t take long for the pattern to reveal itself.

Still, you don’t argue when James gifts you tickets for you and a friend to see a band you like out of town. You know they’re all most comfortable doing things the way they always have, and you worry that letting slip what you know would do more harm than good; Remus would be anxious and upset, and the other boys would only be doing more damage control than they’re used to with you around. So, you let the full moon pass you by without complaint.

The next day, however, when you know James and Sirius will have gone to work and left Remus to rest and heal, you sneak into your apartment.

The fact of Remus’ ailing is immediately obvious; the boys’ things are strewn all over the place, evidence of James’ and Sirius’ running about without Remus to pick up after them. There’s a pot of half-eaten stew that’s been left to cool and congeal on the stove, an abandoned roll of bandages on the coffee table, and the entire apartment smells like disinfectant and heartache.

When you find Remus in the bedroom, your heart aches, too. He’s sleeping, but even in rest his face is pinched with discomfort, and there are several bandages visible above where the bedsheets rest halfway up his torso. It’s about what you expected, but it still makes your eyes burn.

You try to let him sleep as long as possible, working with the environment first. You open a few windows to get out the smell and let in the new day, clean the common spaces, start your lavender incense burning in the bedroom. You’re brewing tea when Remus pads into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Oh.” He startles to see you. “You’re back.”

You’re startled, too. “Hi, I’m sorry,” you say, hurrying over to the windows to shut them. “Did I wake you? Is it too cold in here?”

“No.” Remus looks wary, watching you flit about the living room like he’s not sure he’s actually woken up. “It’s nice. When did you get home?”

“Just this morning. I didn’t see the sense in staying another night, and anyway I wanted to be with you.” You make your way back around the room to him, taking his jaw gently in your hand. His skin is warm to the touch. “How are you feeling, lovely?”

You feel more than see Remus’ face tighten. “I’m alright. How are you?”

You let him go, giving him a small smile. “Better now that I’m back with you, thanks for asking.” You go back to the stove to stir your pot. “If you’re warm, you don’t need to keep that blanket on for me. I’ve already seen the bandages.”

You hear his quiet intake of breath, and then a few moments later the sound of the blanket dropping to the floor.

“Are you in the mood for some tea?” you ask without turning around. “If you want to get back in bed, I could bring it to you there. I don’t imagine standing is very kind to your legs right now.”

You’ve been reading up on wolf versus human anatomy. If Remus’ transformations work the way you think they do, the bones in his heels and legs would have to either break or otherwise shorten and elongate to create the legs a wolf needs; you can’t imagine it’s a painless process, or that he’s not still feeling the effects of it now, so soon after the moon.

For a dense handful of moments, Remus lingers on the edge of the kitchen. But soon you hear his footsteps, heavier than usual in a way that makes your stomach hurt, go back towards the bedroom. You finish making his tea and bring it to him with a few pieces of his chocolate.

He’s sitting up at the edge of the bed, propped up on pillows and watching the smoke curl up from your incense with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Hi,” you say softly. He accepts the tea and chocolate with a quiet thanks. “Do you think it might help things if I opened the curtains? Some sunlight might be good for you.”

Remus hums his assent. Everything becomes crisper once you let the light in. Remus’ dark circles and the blood visible through his bandages, but also the healthy flush to his cheeks and the strength of his body beneath the dressings.

“What is this?” Remus asks you, sipping his tea.

“Bay leaves. It’s for pain relief. It helps more if you put it directly on the wounds, but I didn’t think you’d want to mess with your dressings any more.”

He nods. Sighs. “Come here, dove. Come sit.”

You’re eager to comply. You round the bed to avoid crawling over him, settling against the pillows beside your boyfriend with your shoulder touching his. A support, if he needs it.

“What’s the incense for?” he asks.

“It’s lavender. It’s also good for pain, but I thought it might help you sleep as well.”

Remus nods again. He turns to you, his eyes some mixture of distressed and resigned. “Why are you doing all of this?” he asks. “Why did you come home?”

“Remus,” you say gently, “we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

His brows hook in the middle, a small crumbling. “But you know already.”

You cradle his face in your hand. Your voice is soft. “Yeah.”

You pull Remus towards your chest when he starts weeping. He dampens your shirt while you comb your fingers through the hair at his nape, saying nothing. Steam wafts up from his tea until it doesn’t, but that’s okay; you’ll make him another cup when he’s ready.

James and Sirius are surprised to find you when they come home.

“Angel—”

“Shh.” You cover one of Remus’ ears with your hand, his head in your lap. “He’s hardly slept all day.”

James lowers his voice, setting his bag down on the floor. “When did you get here?”

“This morning.”

“But you were supposed to be away until tomorrow afternoon.” Sirius climbs up onto the bed. His expression goes tender as he looks down upon Remus’ sleeping face, and the kiss he presses to your lips is gentle.

You card your hand through Remus’ hair. “I didn’t want to be away from him,” you admit softly. “I understand why you want to do things without me on the night it happens, but I’d like to help before and afterwards at least.”

Sirius’ brow pinches, his eyes narrowing cautiously.

“When what happens?” James asks you.

You speak softly, not wanting the words to potentially agitate Remus in his sleep. “The transformation.”

There’s a thick pause.

“Who told you?” Sirius asks.

“No one had to tell me.”

There’s a quiet chuckle from the end of the bed. James kicks his shoes off, crawling up the covers to meet you. “I told you she knew.” He gives you a kiss, soft and syrupy sweet. “Thanks for looking after him for us, sweetheart.”

Remus grunts, coming awake. “James,” he groans. “Your knee is on my leg.”

“Oh. Sorry, love.” James moves, then bends down to give Remus a kiss of his own. “Did our angel take good care of you today?”

“Better than this.”

“That’s the moon talking,” Sirius says flippantly, though the hand he uses to rub Remus’ shoulder is exceedingly gentle. “That’s something you’ll learn as we go along, gorgeous. He loves us, really.”

You feel your brows pinch. “I thought he was as nice as always today.”

“Wonder why,” Remus mutters, but the look he gives Sirius is teasing.

James gives Remus another kiss, standing. “I’ll get you some of your soup.”

“Oh, I…” You give him a sheepish look. “I washed that down the sink. It got left out, the meat was bad. There’s tea on the stove that should help him heal faster, though, if you want to get some of that.”

James and Sirius stare at you.

“Seems like we should’ve brought you in on this a lot sooner,” Sirius says after a moment.

You shrug. Remus mumbles something that sounds like agreement.

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lukesaprince · 8 months ago

Text

Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.

You prayed it was only her being skittish.

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.

��I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart.

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.

You wanted to save him.

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.

Mine.

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”

Shit.

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.

But tonight… you knew.

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”

All you could do was nod.

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.

“Mhmm.”

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Good.”

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil.

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric.

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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bet-on-me-13 · 7 months ago

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Clark grows up on Amity

So! When Clark's shup landed on the Kent Farm, it unfortunately started a bit of a Fire. It was pretty bad, and by the time it was put out most of their Crops had been burned up.

Using their Savings, the money from the remaining Crops, and some goodwill from their neighbors, the Kent's managed to get enough money together to move to a new Town to start over. It also helped that in a new town nobody would question them suddenly having a Baby despite Martha not being Pregnant.

They Move to a small farm on the Edge of Amity Park.

Clark Kent grows up in Amity Park, goes to Casper High, and befriends Danny, Sam, and Tucker as his childhood friends.

When his powers come in, they are the first ones to know. When Danny has his Accident, Clark is there to help him control his new abilities. When Clark has to move away for his new Job in Metropolis, they are all there to wish him good luck and throw him a Going Away Party.

As Superman, Clark is more open to joining a Team since he used to be on Team Phantom.

When Justice League Dark is formed, Superman is a Suprise Member, since he actually had a lot of experience with the Supernatural.

When Kon is born, he turns to his best friends for help and advice on his to deal with the situation. Danny had Ellie in very similar circumstances, so he is more open to the idea of adopting Kon since he has personal experience with Clones made by Madmen.

Thoughts?

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Clark Kent grows up in Amity Park #The Kent's move to Amity Park #Clark and Danny are childhood friends #I find it really funny that Superman is on JLD because he has more experience with the Supernatural than half the team #They really didn't expect it from All American Boy Scout Superman #Until the day they come across a Ghost who sees Superman and SHRIEKS because “that's the Ghost King's personal advisor!!!”#Excuse me. Whomst!?#Constantine is considering selling his Soul to Superman #Shazam is wondering why Zeus (Vortex) is screaming profanities about the Ghost King in his head #Wonder Woman wonders if Superman has met her Aunt Pandora #Chaos all around

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megalony · 6 months ago

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It's Bubba

Here is a new Evan Buckley imagine, requested by a lovely anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Birthday Wishes (Prequel)

Summary: When Evan's parents come into town, they aren't happy to find their grandson prefers Bobby over them. And they take their frustrations out on (Y/n).

Enjoy.

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(Y/n)'s lips curved into a grin and she couldn't help the relief that overwhelmed her when she realised who was at the door.

"Come in." (Y/n) opened the door wider and took a step backwards to allow Bobby inside.

Her eyes followed him as he stepped into the hall, one hand tucked into his pocket and the other stretched down to push the small pedal bike through the hall. She closed the door, pressing her lips together to dampen her smile that threatened to reach her eyes. She watched Boby push the pedal bike towards the stairs so it was just out of the hallway so it wouldn't be a trip hazard.

"All fixed for the little man." Bobby stuffed both hands in his pockets and turned to face (Y/n) as she stepped past the stairs.

James had spent the weekend with Athena and Bobby and the three year old had tried riding his bike around the block, with Bobby's supervision of course. The four year old was rather fast when he had his training wheels but one of them came loose and the bike took a tumble.

Bobby had fixed the wheels back on and checked it over and he knew James would want the bike to play on before next weekend when he was due to spend the night with him and Athena again.

"Thank you, he'll be very pleased."

"Is he around?"

(Y/n) gave Bobby's arm a squeeze and pointed into the lounge. She stayed close behind him as he walked into the living room and took a peek around. Cartoons were playing on the tv, there was a colouring book on the table and crayons scattered along the floor.

And there was James, curled up in a ball on the sofa, head almost hanging off the edge and arms bound to his chest. Drooling onto the pillow as he dozed off in a power nap.

"Want a coffee?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet, not wanting to wake James just yet when he had only been asleep for a good ten minutes or so. He would wake up soon and he would be thrilled to see Bobby when he did wake up. The three year old was under the impression that Bobby was his grandad and nobody would or wanted to correct him on that.

"Sure." Bobby patted his hand on the back of the sofa, grinning at the little boy that always stole his heart, before he spun on his heels and moved towards the kitchen.

He had come round today because he had the day off and Bobby hated to swing by and leave in a hurry. The one time he had tried to do that James had cried when Bobby didn't come inside for a drink or stay long. He wanted to hang around and chat to his grandson when he woke up.

"So, how are you?" Bobby took a seat at the kitchen table while (Y/n) flicked the kettle on and got some mugs out ready.

"Did Evan tell you his parents are in town?"

The way (Y/n) arched a brow and glanced over her shoulder at Bobby made him whistle lowly and hang his head for a moment.

No, indeed, Evan had not mentioned that little fact. Although it did explain why Evan had been restless on shift yesterday and why he had been so twitchy and distant instead of involved and forever bombarding the team with facts and new information he had learned.

"Oh, so that's who you're expecting?" He noticed (Y/n) had seemed a little jumpy when she opened the door.

(Y/n) didn't want her in-laws turning up when Evan wasn't here. She never knew what to say to the Buckley parents, things were always tense and awkward and she needed Evan to play referee and keep the peace and the tension down.

They were in town now and they had visited Maddie this morning and they should be coming to visit (Y/n) and James anytime soon. (Y/n) was dreading it, but if Bobby was here it might calm the waters a little. She hoped.

"Evan's on shift, how lucky." (Y/n) joked and placed a cup down in front of each of them, using the table as leverage to ease down and try to shake the discomfort in her back.

She slouched back in her seat, pushing her knees forward into the table while her shoulders jabbed back into the chair. The looser she sat, the easier the pain was to handle in her back and stomach.

(Y/n) hadn't been in this much pain when she was pregnant with James, but then again, she was having twins this time.

She almost wished Evan and Maddie hadn't told their parents she was pregnant. They wanted to come down more often now they knew she was having twins, just like they visited a lot when they had been expecting James. They rarely visited Evan before then, but once James was born they were down every other month and kept calling to see how he was. Evan had never had so much contact with his parents since he moved out at eighteen.

It was nice that they were trying to make an effort, but it was too little too late. They were in contact much more often now that Evan had his own family, but it still wasn't enough. Going from almost nothing to a few visits didn't make James see them as his grandparents. He thought of (Y/n)'s parents as his grandparents and he saw Bobby and Athena as Evan's parents, therefore they were his family.

Bobby had been there when James was born, he had seen him almost every day and cuddled him and took care of him. He and Athena were always taking James on days out and having him sleep over and were teaching him to ride his bike. They were his grandparents.

"I'm sure he doesn't feel very lucky. Does the little man know they're coming?"

"No, just in case they don't turn up today."

(Y/n) didn't see any point in telling James in case the Buckley parents didn't make it here today or something came up. And she knew James wouldn't be excited to see them like he would when he saw Bobby. James didn't spend a lot of time with Evan's parents and it had been months since they had last visited and over a year since they had taken him out anywhere.

They pledged when he was born that they would spend a lot of time with him and take James out places, because he was their first grandchild. So far they hadn't kept up with that ideal, and Evan hadn't expected them to either.

"Oh," (Y/n) took a quick sip of her coffee, pursing her lips when it burned the back of her throat. She set her cup down and moved her hands to the table, pushing herself up despite only just sitting down.

She aimed for the fridge and pulled down the latest scan photo Evan had pinned with a magnet, next to James's latest drawing. Which happened to be a stick figure James said was Evan, stood next to a bright red fire truck.

"Here," She couldn't hide the smile from her lips when she slid the photo over to Bobby and sat back down.

Her left hand moved to glide across her stomach where both twins were kicking up a storm. Her right hand began to tap against the table as she watched a soft but proud smile flutter across Bobby's face as he skimmed his thumb across the picture. He still had the first picture Evan had given him to announce he was going to have his first kid. Now he was having two for the price of one this time.

"For me?" He murmured quietly, wafting the picture before he got his wallet out his back pocket to keep the picture safe when (Y/n) nodded. "Only two months left."

"I can't wait." As much as (Y/n) was happy to be pregnant, she was eager for it to be over and to have both babies in her arms.

The timing was hopefully going to work out though. They had been warned (Y/n) could go into early labour because she was having twins, something which had put Evan on red alert and set off his anxiety. But (Y/n) was hoping that wouldn't happen because in three weeks it would be James's fourth birthday. Which happened to be on the same day as Evan's thirtieth birthday.

She wanted to get the party out the way and celebrate both her boys before she had the twins. The last thing they wanted was her to go into labour just before the party and ruin the day for James or take the attention away from him and Evan. Or to go into labour now and have two screaming babies disrupting the little family party they had planned out.

Maddie had taken the lead in organising a party, of course Evan had to know about it because it was for his son, but he didn't know the details. All he knew was he had his birthday off work and so did his team so they could all have a big get together. Evan didn't know where it was happening, what time, what was planned. Nothing.

It was a big birthday for him and Maddie and (Y/n) wanted to celebrate.

Evan had been head over heels when the day before his twenty-sixth birthday, (Y/n) went into labour. And when James was finally born, they looked at the time and realised it was three in the morning. Officially Evan's birthday. He got to share his special day with his boy and it had been the best present he had ever gotten.

"I'll bet. So, what's he asking for his birthday this time?" Every time Bobby asked James what he wanted or what he was expecting, he seemed to ask for something different.

"A fire truck. Like, a real one, he wasn't impressed when Evan told him he couldn't get one."

James had sat in the truck before and been for a ride and he was enthralled by the work his dad and grandad both did. He loved the trucks and the ambulance and he asked if he could have one. Evan politely explained the best he could do was get his son a replica toy truck for now which made James cry.

He wanted Evan to bring the truck home. James was under the impression that since his dad was a firefighter, he should be able to drive the truck whenever he liked and use it as his personal car.

The doorbell broke apart the conversation and (Y/n)'s shoulders visibly slumped and the way she flopped her head forward had Bobby's face softening.

He reached out to pat her arm before she pushed up and sighed, trudging out the kitchen towards the front door.

They were here. (Y/n) couldn't imagine it being anyone else at the door, she wasn't expecting anyone and she knew Maddie would be on shift this afternoon which was why her parents had gone to see her first this morning. It had to be Evan's parents.

Please don't stay until Evan gets home!

She had a horrible gut feeling that they would hang around all afternoon and stay until Evan came home from work so they could see him. (Y/n) didn't want to have to entertain them all day, but it seemed like that was a big possibility. Part of her hoped she could manage to persuade them to leave later this afternoon and come back tomorrow when Evan was off.

It would be easier for everyone, (Y/n) wouldn't be so drained if they turned up tomorrow, Evan would be home and recuperated after a good nights sleep and James would be a bit more lively.

The calmest, controlled look (Y/n) could muster plastered across her face when she opened the front door and was met with the sight of her in-laws.

Their smiles were warm and made some of the nerves in (Y/n)'s stomach die down, but it still didn't feel right to see them without Evan being here. He always controlled the situation, he steered the conversation and stopped his parents from causing any arguments. And if an unsettling topic arose, Evan squashed it immediately.

Despite everything Evan had been through with his parents, somehow, he was always calm and composed and (Y/n) didn't know how he did it.

"Hi, you made it. Come in." (Y/n) moved to let them in, watching the way they shrugged off their coats and hung them up as if they were round here every week rather than every couple of months.

They were more at ease than they used to be, but they still looked and seemed out of place here. Not like when they visited Maddie. They were happier visiting her, and for the longest time (Y/n) couldn't understand why. Until it was made clear why Evan had been born in the first place.

"Do you want to go into the kitchen?"

(Y/n) led them into the kitchen, locking eyes with Bobby who took another sip of coffee and stayed seating. He didn't feel the need to stand up or shake hands or try and make any effort in a big hello with the Buckleys.

"Would you like a drink?" (Y/n) rolled her lips together and watched her in-laws as they dithered, debating whether or not to sit down at the table or stand near the counter. They seemed to settle on sitting opposite Bobby at the table, although they looked perplexed as if wondering why he was here.

"A cup of tea would be nice."

She rattled through the cupboard for any teabags. Evan could drink coffee like it was water and most of the team had a preference for coffee, but not many of their friends and family drank tea. (Y/n) used to have a taste for iced tea when she was pregnant with James, but she hadn't drank much of it since.

An old pack of teabags was still in date and (Y/n) set to work making them each a drink.

"How have you been? You remember Bobby,"

"Yes, yes, Evan's Captain. We're well, we missed little James, where is he?" Margaret nodded towards Bobby and watched him raise his mug towards her before his eyes flitted over towards (Y/n).

Bobby couldn't help the nagging feeling that clawed behind his chest. They weren't asking how (Y/n) was. God knows when the last time was that they had seen or talked to her, and here they were not bothering to ask how their pregnant daughter in law was doing in herself.

But he held his tongue. There was no sense saying anything, Bobby didn't want to start an argument and he knew it wasn't worth it.

"I'll go see if he's awake."

With their cups placed in front of them, (Y/n) smiled and slowly padded through into the living room. She didn't want to wake James, she wanted to let him sleep because he needed it, but if she didn't wake him now and Bobby left, James would get upset. He would want to see him and Evan's parents wanted to see him.

They always made the effort with James, maybe because they knew they had messed up so royally with Evan and were trying to make amends through his son.

A smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips when she saw James was still in the same place she had left him earlier, cuddled up on the sofa.

It took some effort for (Y/n) to lean on the arm of the sofa and lower herself down to her knees. She smoothed her hand across her stomach, settling the twins while her other hand moved out and brushed through James's hair. She brushed her fingertips across his temple and moved his messy hair back on his head which roused him.

His tired eyes blinked open like headlights and be brushed his fist against the tip of his nose, squeaking a yawn while he stretched his arms above his head.

"Someone's here to see you." Her voice was quiet and she leaned across to kiss his cheek which puffed out into a smile.

That was all James needed to wake himself up. A shiver tore through him and he sat up straight, stretching and wriggling like a worm on a hook before he scrambled down off the sofa. He didn't have to know who was here, James loved visitors he would attach to anyone who came by.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) heaved herself back up to her feet and followed James through into the kitchen.

"There he is." The happiness in Phillip's voice was surprising, but it was James's reaction that had (Y/n)'s heart jumping up into her throat.

Panic fluttered across James's face when he saw his grandparents sat at the table. He could see Phillip's arms stretched out towards him like he was waiting for James to run into his arms. And Margaret was leaning forward with her hands clasped together and a sickly sweet smile on her face. But James didn't want to go over to them.

He didn't want hugs or kisses from the two people he didn't know very well. The grandparents that were more on the phone than they were in person. The ones who held his hand too tight when they sporadically took him out. Who were more often than not arguing with his parents or visiting his aunt Maddie. The ones who upset his mum and didn't often speak to his dad.

The three year old paused in the doorway, hands wavering in front of him as he tried to work out what to do. He didn't know whether to back up and cling to his mum or go over and let them hug him.

He didn't have to decide.

The moment James looked up and realised there was another person standing in front of the sink washing a cup, he seemed to become animated again and come back to life.

"It's bubba!"

Excitement flooded James's voice and his arms stretched out as a grin as broad as his arms fluttered across his face.

"Hey, there's my little man." A quiet 'oof' left Bobby's lips when the three year old barrelled into him like a bullet. He leaned down and scooped James up, setting him on his hip so the little boy could curl his arms around his neck and cuddle up close.

He pressed a kiss to Bobby's cheek and clung tightly to his neck, giggling and shimmying when Bobby swayed him from side to side.

Although James could say Bobby, he never called him that. Since the moment he began to talk, he could never pronounce Bobby and it always came out wrong. So James ended up calling him bubba, something which Evan had called James when he was a baby. Now that was James's special name for the person he classed as his grandad. He thought bubba meant grandad and no one corrected him on that.

Just like when he saw Athena, he called her 'nanny Nash' and she loved it.

"How are you, hm?" Bobby kissed his temple and eased back against the counter, jostling James in his arms. His eyes flitted across to (Y/n) when she sat down at the table across from her in-laws who could do nothing but stare at Bobby and their grandson.

"You fix the bike, bubba?"

"I did, it's all fixed and ready for you."

The squeal James let out had bobby's smile broadening and he let James pull him down by the neck so he could snuggle their cheeks together. He murmured "Thank you," and squeezed Bobby tighter.

The glares Bobby could feel being sent his way made him hug the little boy tighter like he was suddenly afraid they were going to try and snatch the little boy from him. He kissed James's temple before he leaned forward and set him down to his feet again.

"I think I'd better get going, I'll be on shift to see your dad soon."

"You leaving?" James grabbed Bobby's hand and swayed their arms back and forth between them for a few seconds, the disappointment clear in his voice which made Bobby shiver. He didn't want to go but he had to, he couldn't impose and he did have to get ready for shift soon.

"I gotta go, but you'll see me at the weekend, okay?" He kissed the top of James's head and rubbed his hand across his back when James let go of him to hug his legs.

Part of him wondered if the toddler was going to let him go or not, but James eventually unravelled himself with a soft "Love you," which Bobby returned.

He watched James clamber up onto (Y/n)'s lap and his smile softened when the three year old wiggled onto her knees and huffed at her stomach which seemed to be in his way. His hands tapped down on the table as he leaned back into (Y/n), curving around her stomach while she kissed the top of his head and wrapped both arms around his waist.

"I'll speak to you soon."

"Thank you." (Y/n) reached up and gripped Bobby's hand when he held her shoulder as he passed.

Part of her wanted him to stay. She wanted back up, help, a friend to stick around until Evan came home. But they both knew it would be easier if he left, and he had to get ready for work, (Y/n) wouldn't delay him just because she didn't want to be on her own with her in-laws.

(Y/n) was ready for a lie down.

She was ready for Phillip and Margaret to either make their departure or for Evan to come home and save her.

She rested her head on her hand and looked across the table at her little boy. James was sat on Phillip's knee, munching on a biscuit, pushing a toy truck across the table. He didn't look impressed, he wasn't settled.

The couple had interrogated James for almost an hour, asking him questions, trying to check on him and how he had been doing. What he liked to watch and play with and of course, James had told them all about Bobby helping him to ride a bike.

"Tv?" James looked across at (Y/n) who reached for a biscuit herself. She didn't like eating in front of Margaret, not after a few years ago when her mother in law liked to tell (Y/n) what she should and shouldn't eat. And she doubted Margaret would agree or listen if (Y/n) tried to say she was eating for three, which she was.

"Go ahead baby."

He needed no more permission than that to scuttle away from his grandparents and rush into the living room.

"Evan should be home soon." (Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair and leaned her head to one side. She tried to smile, but she felt exhausted. She wished she and James were visiting because then it would be easy to make an excuse and go home. She couldn't exactly kick anyone out of her own home, it wouldn't be right and they were Evan's parents, (Y/n) didn't feel like she had the right to tell them to leave. That was Evan's job, his responsibility.

"Why did you let him call him that?" Margaret's words took (Y/n) by surprise.

Her brows furrowed and she looked over at her with confusion in her eyes. What was she talking about? Why did she have that look of discern in her eyes and something foul on her lips?

"Call who what?"

"Bubba."

"Oh, well that's- that's what he's always called Bobby, he could never pronounce Bobby properly." (Y/n) smiled fondly at the thought, even though she knew Phillip wouldn't see this so happily.

It was just a name that stuck, something that James found comfort in calling Bobby. A name that he loved, but whenever it was Bobby's birthday or Christmas or a special event, James would get him a card that said grandad on the front. He saw Bobby as Evan's dad and therefore as one of his grandparents, and that was the way they all liked it.

"But I'm his grandad. You let him run right past me to get to Bobby, and he's not even family. James barely spoke to us just now."

They couldn't blame (Y/n) for that.

It wasn't her fault that they weren't around enough for James to feel like they were his true family, his true grandparents. He couldn't help being close to Bobby when Bobby was always in his life and they weren't as close to him. Bobby had cared for him when he was a baby, looked after him, took him out most weekends and dealt with his temper tantrums and checked in when he didn't feel well.

If Phillip and Margaret didn't bother to check in or be around for most of James's life and the important things, they couldn't expect him to be close to them if they didn't do things in return.

"He is Evan's captain, not his father and James shouldn't be calling him grandad-"

"He's been in James's life since he was born, he's as good as a grandparent." (Y/n) turned away from them, twisting to the side on her chair to stop looking over at them.

"No he isn't, I'm his grandad, you shouldn't let him call Bobby that, it's wrong."

With a scoff, (Y/n) shook her head and used the table as leverage to push herself up. This wasn't fair and she didn't have to sit and listen to them chide her for something that wasn't her fault and wasn't even a problem to begin with.

"How can it be wrong? Bobby's prominent in his life, you see how much James loves him."

(Y/n) threw her hand to the side, wishing she could just project her thoughts and memories into their minds so they could see this from her point of view. They couldn't just expect things to go both ways and want James to be attached to them if they didn't put the effort in and see him often enough.

She padded over to the sink, dumping her cup before she tried to tidy the counter. She needed something to do before they sent her up the wall.

"You didn't even say anything to him. He completely ignored us and you let him, he can't get away with everything-"

"He didn't do anything wrong." There was no reason for (Y/n) to tell James off if he hadn't acted out or done anything wrong. He had been affectionate and happy and he was now entertaining himself in the living room, he had been as good as always today.

With one hand gripping the counter, (Y/n) moved her other hand down to cradle the side of her stomach. She didn't feel very well.

When was Evan coming home? Couldn't they wait for him to have this argument?

"And what was all that about a bike?"

(Y/n) couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes and she was glad they were sitting behind her so they wouldn't see.

"Bobby's teaching him to ride a bike, they had a collision at the weekend so Bobby fixed it for him." She motioned to the hallway but she was rather surprised when Phillip got up and actually went to take a look. As implied, there was a blue pedal bike in the hall that both of them had completely overlooked when they came in.

She spun on her heels when she heard Phillip tut and gasp and her eyes widened when Margaret had tears in her eyes.

Her free hand moved down to her stomach that twinged like a coil within her had been pulled and she let herself slump into the counter to keep herself upright. Adrenaline was coursing through (Y/n)'s stomach and fluttering up to her chest, making it harder to breathe and her fingers were starting to turn numb.

"We could have- I could have taught him. For goodness sake (Y/n) that man isn't family. I'm his bloody grandad."

"Wasn't it Maddie who taught Evan how to ride a bike?" She couldn't help the snappy response or the way her nose crinkled and her upper lip curled into a grimace. They couldn't be pulling this one on her. They didn't teach Evan to ride a bike or show any interest in helping him and watching him grow up. Maddie had been both sister, mother and father to Evan.

That was the reason Evan was so desperate to be there for all of the moments with James. He didn't want his son to feel as left out, cold and alone as he did growing up and it was why Evan wasn't surprised when his parents fell through on their promise to be around for their grandson.

So if Bobby wanted to step into that role and keep up the pretense of being a grandparent and actually love James, Evan was more than happy for his Captain and surrogate dad to do that for them all.

"And he stays with this Bobby on the weekend? You've never let him stay with us," Margaret moved her hand to cover her chest like there was a hollow pain she was trying to blot out and it made (Y/n) feel infuriated.

Dread crept up the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she could feel tears burning in her eyes. She looked around them to try and peek into the living room, but James was none the wiser to what was going on. He was sat on the floor with a few toys scattered round him and a Scooby Doo cartoon playing on the tv, he was happy in ignorant bliss.

"I never- that's out of order."

Both hands moved to her stomach as tears welled up in her eyes from both fury and agony. She was starting to feel like a boombox, her heartbeat pulsing under every inch of her skin making her vibrate. And the twins were starting to shift around so much it was becoming painful. Her abdomen was tense and tight and weighed heavy making (Y/n) want to lean forward more than usual.

"You've never a-asked for James to stay with you." They had never asked, but even if they did, (Y/n) wouldn't agree. James may be a social butterfly, but he didn't settle with many people, only close family.

He wouldn't cope being away from home to stay with Phillip and Margaret, he would be crying and wanting to be back home. Bobby and Athena were different, James had been staying over with them every other weekend since he was one. It was what he was used to, and he was often staying with Maddie and Chimney when she wanted time with her nephew.

(Y/n) reached her hand out when James came toddling into the kitchen, toy truck cradled to his chest and a worried look on his face. He stared between his mum and grandparents, unsure what was going on. But he didn't like the way Phillip had his hands on his hips and how Margaret looked a mix between angry and upset.

"You need to have words with him, (Y/n). You're turning him against us-"

"Stop it."

"Well you shouldn't-"

"Don't shout at mummy." James stomped his foot down on the floor and moved to stand in front of (Y/n). He lifted his chin and looked up at them with a defiant look that matched Evan one hundred percent. He didn't know why they were arguing or what they were talking about, but he didn't like the way they were talking to his mum.

He knew if his dad was here he would of already manouvred in front of (Y/n) and would have told his parents off already. Without Evan here, James felt the need to stop them shouting at his mum.

"Sweetie I- we weren't-"

Both of them paused when a quiet "Oww," tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she hunkered down. Her nails scratched into the kitchen countertop and her other hand pushed up into her abdomen like she was trying to lift up the weight of the twins to relieve the pain she was now feeling.

She couldn't help the way her knees bent forward and she lowered down like she was trying to crouch or do a squat behind James.

The tears welling up in her eyes started to fall freely down her face as her chin tucked into her chest that was starting to shake. Her stomach was hurting, more specifically, her lower abdomen. Sharp, striking pains hit her like a knife and she shuddered through her next breath, begging for the pain to disappear.

This wasn't right. (Y/n) was on observation by the midwife, she was having extra check ups to make sure she wasn't going to go into early labour and to control things if she did. She wasn't likely to make it to her due date with twins and now, (Y/n) had a horrible feeling that this might be labour pains.

She couldn't go into labour now. She was thirty-one weeks, they had two months left before this should be happening, or in the very least, one more month before they should be thinking about this.

Her in-laws were stressing her enough to cripple her body down in pain. If they had distressed her enough to enforce contractions, Evan was going to hit the roof when he found out.

"Honey, what's the matter?"

"I- I don't…" Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) shifted to grip the table but her knees were almost scraping the floor.

She shuffled, bending her feet oddly to get herself across to the chair and she shook off Margaret's hand when the older woman tried to reach out for her. (Y/n) didn't want her help when she was probably the reason for (Y/n)'s sudden pains.

For a few seconds, none of them said anything. Both elder parents stood hovering by the table, unsure what to say or what to do to help. Margaret looked like she was going to reach out for James but he moved quicker. He stood beside his mum, leaning into her just a little in case she didn't want his touch, but he wanted comfort and security at the same time.

(Y/n) tried to take a few deep breaths and ward away the tears, she hated being upset when James was around to see. She didn't want to scare him like that, but when another pain tore through her abdomen, she couldn't help the way she started to shake.

Her body coiled forward and she swallowed down a whimper, moving her hand back and forth across her stomach but it didn't do anything, not that she was expecting it to take away the pain anyway.

"Call Maddie." (Y/n) spat the words through gritted teeth as she stared up at the pair of them through blurring eyes.

"She's at work-"

"Then call 911!" Her voice changed to a low whine and she slammed her hand down on the table to get their attention. She felt the way James jumped against her but he stayed close and did well not to cry too. If Maddie was at work that was better for (Y/n), Maddie could give them the advice they needed and get help. She could do something and call someone because Bobby was now at work and they didn't know if Evan was on his way home or not.

(Y/n) needed help and she needed Maddie if she was going into the hospital because she didn't want Phillip and Margaret to be the ones looking after James.

She needed someone she trusted who James would feel comfortable being around and Maddie was the only person they could call right now when everyone else was at work, including Evan.

Slouching to the right, (Y/n) flopped her right arm on the table and dropped her forehead down onto her arm. She could feel herself beginning to shake when another pain wracked her stomach in a low, dull throb. The first one felt like a contraction, (Y/n) knew what that felt like even after four years. And she would guess that this was some sort of stress pains but whatever they were, she shouldn't be having them.

A quiet mewl left her lips and she wanted to smile when she felt James tenderly kiss her arm and smoothed his hand up and down her back like he wanted to do something to help her.

She wanted Evan. They both wanted Evan.

… Evan could feel himself trembling, legs close to giving way as he rounded the corner and set off into another sprint down the corridor. His hands balled into fists at his sides and his chest was heaving, threatening to strain and break free from his shirt.

The moment his eyes locked on his family, a small puddle of relief started to bloom in his stomach. He felt better for seeing them, but he still didn't know what was going on.

His lips rolled together when his sights set on James. The three year old started to whine and wriggle on Maddie's lap, previously settled leaning into her chest until he realised Evan was finally here. He kicked his legs out and slid beneath Maddie's arms, sliding down to the floor so he could set off into a sprint.

James's arms deadlocked around Evan's legs and he tilted his head back, looking up at his dad with tears in his eyes and his chest panting and heaving.

"Daddy."

Leaning down, Evan scooped James up, allowing his boy to grip his neck and snuggle close into his chest.

"I'm here, I've got you."

Evan danced his eyes around his family. Maddie pushed up from her chair and stepped closer, her hand already on his arm giving a light squeeze to try and calm him down and give whatever comfort she could. Their parents remained seated in the corridor, hands linked together, worried eyes gazing up at Evan as if he was a profit that had just appeared in front of them.

"What happened?" Evan didn't know what brought them all here.

He had only just climbed off the truck after a two hour call out when the shift lead told him to call Maddie because dispatch had gotten through to the station that he had a family emergency. And all his sister told him over the phone was that (Y/n) had had pains and they were taking her to the hospital to get checked out.

He let Maddie steer him a few feet away down the corridor and her eyes flitted to James, but the toddler wasn't listening. He was happily humming into Evan's chest and drawing patterns on his shirt. Evan didn't have chance to change. He had sped from the station down here to the hospital so he was still in his shirt that was black with smoke, damp with water backsplash and tight and crumpled from heat.

"She started getting cramps, the doctor said it was the start of labour pains."

Evan could feel his upper lip curling and he tilted his head back, trying to dull down the ache in his lower chest and the fire burning behind his ribs.

"Why? It's too early… when I left last night she was fine. Where is she?" Evan wouldn't have gone to work if he thought (Y/n) wasn't well or if he'd of known she would go downhill like this. There was nothing to suggest she was going to go into labour and it was too early for that, this would be premature for the twins and dangerous.

Evan bounced James up and down in his arms and cradled the back of his head, tilting his head down so he could kiss the top of his head.

"They've given her something to stop the contractions."

"Thank God, Maddie what happened?"

The way Maddie looked across at their parents made Evan's stomach drop. What had gone on while he had been at work? Something had to have happened, (Y/n) couldn't just go into labour out of the blue when she had been fine last night and there had been no problems before now.

"Mum and dad were round to see them… (Y/n) said they were arguing with her."

"They did this?" His tone was dark but it was the look in his eyes that set Maddie on edge even more.

She watched the way he leaned down to try and set James back on his feet, but the little boy wouldn't let go of Evan's neck. He clung to his chest and wriggled in his arms, whining to try and get Evan to keep hold of him.

"James, baby let go for a minute-"

"They shouted at mummy."

Evan paused, crouching down with James stood between his knees with his arms bound tight around his neck. His hands squeezed James's sides and he kept him close, trying to stay calm.

"What did they say, baby?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or not, but Evan wasn't impressed in the slightest that James had clearly heard something he shouldn't. Had his parents really shouted at his wife? Had they argued with her with James nearby to hear them? Had they upset his wife enough to cause all of this and panic his son too?

"They were arguing about Bubba, and the bike… they were being mean." James leaned his head on Evan's shoulder and pushed into his chest until Evan held him tighter and kissed his temple.

"Okay. Okay, baby you stay with aunt Maddie for a minute, then we'll go see mummy. Bubba's coming soon to see us all too."

Evan shared a look with his sister and he chose to ignore the panic in her eyes while he carefully nudged James across to her. He waited until she had her arms wrapped around him before he got up and advanced over to his parents. Both hands curled into fists at his sides and he took a glance over his shoulder to make sure James was at a safe enough distance away not to hear anything, although that meant Evan was going to have to keep his voice down.

"Evan-"

"I was in the middle of a double shift, and I get a call to say (Y/n)'s in hospital, so I come down here to be told she's in labour after arguing with you. And you have the nerve to stick around? What the Hell did you say to her to cause this?"

He hadn't even finished his twenty-four hour shift before he got called to come here. Evan thought maybe (Y/n) had had some sort of fall or she was sick or having some kind of pains with the twins. He wasn't expecting her to be in labour- which hopefully had stopped by now. And he wasn't expecting his parents to be the cause of all this.

"She got herself worked up-"

"Labour doesn't count as worked up, mum, it counts as fucking stressed out. What did you say?"

"James wouldn't come near us today, he's rushing around with that Captain of yours, calling him his grandad and spending weekends with him. She's turning him against us Evan, we are his grandparents."

A horrid shuddering breath rocked Evan's system. His hands found his hips and his foot began to tap against the floor as he looked up at the ceiling. He could feel his fingers puncturing into his hips and his chest ached at their words.

How were they blaming (Y/n) for this?

She hadn't done anything to warrant any of this. It was their own doing and now they had stressed his wife into labour when she was supposed to be resting and taking things easy until the twins were born.

"Just leave."

"Evan, don't do this, please."

"Bobby is James's grandad, always has been, always will be. He doesn't stay with you because he barely fucking knows you and I wouldn't trust him with you either. Look what you've done today, we'll be lucky if she doesn't go into premature labour now after this." Twisting to the left, Evan motioned his hand out towards James. "Come on, we're gonna see mum."

As soon as James trotted over to him, Evan grabbed his hand and steered him straight ahead. He wasn't stopping to argue and he wasn't having James getting worried or upset any further than this. He wanted to see (Y/n) and make sure she was alright.

He could feel Maddie close behind them and he rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before he headed inside.

His lips curved into a smile before he could stop himself and something warm flooded his eyes when they set on his wife. The moment her arms stretched out for him, Evan let go of James so he could move forward.

Evan almost melted on the spot when (Y/n)'s arms looped around his neck. He wound his arms tightly around her waist, trying not to squeeze too much and cause her any more pain or discomfort. His face burrowed into the side of her neck and he inhaled her scent, smothering his lips against her skin while he felt (Y/n)'s hand run up and down his back.

"Are you okay? What did the doctor say?"

Evan let his weight slump down on the side of the bed and he didn't miss the way the bed groaned beneath him and he felt it shudder when James scrambled up on the other side of the bed.

(Y/n) gripped Evan's hand and opened her other arm out, mumbling "Hi baby," when James crawled up and plonked himself down beneath her right arm. She didn't miss the way Evan's eyes kept moving to her stomach and she gently moved his hand to rest on her stomach. She wasn't tender or made of glass, he could reach out for the twins like he always did without fear of making her feel any worse.

"Contractions have stopped, but I'm here for twenty four hour observation to make sure they don't start again. They're both doing okay."

Evan mumbled his relief before he leaned forward and pressed his lips down against her stomach. His lips curved into a grin when he felt James's fingers brush through his hair, something the little boy had always seen (Y/n) do often.

"Sorry to drag you away from work."

"Hey, if you're not well I need to be here. Bobby's coming down soon, said he'd look after a certain someone for us so I can stay with you."

He could see the panic that fluttered across (Y/n)'s face and he felt her grip tighten on his wrist when she looked towards the door before she looked back at Evan. It wasn't that she didn't want Bobby to come by, of course she did, it was sweet that he cared and that he was willing to help them when he didn't have to. But Evan's parents were outside that door and (Y/n) didn't want another fight breaking out if they saw the Buckleys.

"Evan, you parents-"

"Aren't staying. Everyone who matters is right in here, so no worrying. Everything's okay."

They were all in here and when Bobby arrived, that would be their immediate family right here in this room. His parents had been told to go and Evan doubted they would hang around after what had happened today. He wasn't going to let this happen again.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #maddie buckley han

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