#ach. it's so hard to pull something like that but saying this in an authors note would kind of make it less fun i guess? like

[syn4k]

IF ANYONE ASKS ABOUT THIS WHEN THE CHAPTER DROPS. THIS WAS PART OF THE PLAN ALL ALONG. THIS WAS INTENTIONAL. THIS WAS ABSOLUTELY MEANT TO HAPPEN FROM DAY ONE. MHM. YEP.

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but i was extra inspired from a tiktok my friend sent me description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long that, when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

[wandasaura]

WHAT DID I SAY

summary — the four times you fucked up and called your doms by the wrong name

warning(s) — college au, fuck-buddy relationships, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, face slapping, spitting, biting, body writing, restraints, spreader bars, mentions of branding, semi nipple torture, hickies, shotgunning, choking, butt plugs, spanking, ass biting, pussy slapping, doggy style, strap-on usage, cum-filled strap, fingering, oral, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mommy kink, captain kink, sir kink, literal filth, men/minors dni

authors note — first little headcanon/oneshot for know my place! hope you enjoy my little college stoners who fuck like rabbits. can totally be read seperate from the au!

know my place

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Maria – 

The wine is warm beside Maria’s bed. The bottle of Prosecco momentarily forgotten about as a symphony engages beneath the darkness of night and blankets. It’s not often that Maria pulls the blankets overtop of herself as she works to unravel the intricate knots and coils in your belly, but she’s chosen tonight to share the beauty of your body with only herself and the silicone toy secured around her hips. Your moans are muffled by her skin, teeth embedded into her shoulder as she rocks the strap-on into you harshly, the bulbous head dancing along your cervix with every third stroke. She’s practiced in this tango, an expert in knowing your body, but the wine has impacted your reception to her actions, and as she pulls the strap out of you almost completely only to thrust back into you quick and harsh, a name leaves your lips that isn’t her own. 

Maria has never been soft with you in moments of time where some part of her body is buried within yours. She’s rough, and assertive, and entirely domineering as she splits you open and gives you only as much pleasure as she’s willing. With Maria, you’re never in charge. The cards are held tightly in her ironclad grasp and you’ve learned better than to try and guess that she’s holding. The wine however, has severely impacted your judgment. You’ve engaged in this dance for months now; been left with the bruises and aches of her touch for days afterward, and yet you’re disoriented enough to cry out for Wanda as she drills your sopping cunt so perfectly. 

“Mommy!” The title slips off your lips before you can search for the correct term that’s filed away in a section of your brain labeled ‘Masha’. Maria has never been Mommy, in fact, she’s always turned her nose up at the title and joked that Wanda’s entirely too harsh to be called something so maternal, and she’s less than amused when the five letter name falls onto her shoulders as she works to unravel you completely. 

Her hips stutter to a stationary position, the silicone dildo fastened around her hips deep within your pleasure soaked core, but unmoving and unwilling to start again. There’s a moment of silence that passes between the both of you; Maria’s eyes are hard, slitted and dark as she stares down at you in a drunken haze, brain struggling to process what you’ve just let slip. Your eyes are wide, light and soft as you meet her stare and attempt to win her forgiveness without seeing the repercussions of your actions. You were a fool to call her Mommy, but you were an idiot to think she’d let it go so simply. 

The silence that had fallen over you ended abruptly, replaced by the echoing sound of a sharp slap meeting your cheek and bouncing through the air before you’d had a chance to process the pain at all. Your head snapped to the side, your unharmed cheek pressing against her pillowcases that smell somewhat of smoke and vanilla. Your eyes pinch closed, anticipating the next hit that will land against your heated skin, but it never comes. Maria’s hand tangled into your hair instead, pulling your head back until your neck is craned and the expanse of your sensitive skin is exposed enough for her teeth and tongue to mark. 

“What’s my fucking name?” Her hips snap into yours with each word that she mutters against your neck, sharp bites and sensitive stings encasing your body in a delectable buzz of pleasure and possessiveness. You’ll bear these marks for days to come, indentations of her teeth and patches of purple from her lips adorning your skin that can’t be easily hidden with makeup or your longest turtleneck. Everyone who looks at you will know that you’d found yourself beneath a warm body and had been helpless to their assault, but only you’ll know that it was Maria Hill who had been your intimate attacker. Each lovebite that she presses into your skin is a subtle claim. You’re not Wanda’s in this moment, you’re not Natasha or Carol’s either, you’re entirely Maria’s and she’s reminding you of such as her hips drive hard against your own and the silicone strap that’s coated in your arousal attempts to bruise your cervix in the most addictively painful way. Each strong thrust sends you reeling farther into bliss, but she’s waiting for an answer and you’re not getting anything more until she hears you call her the right name. In her opinion, she’s being entirely lenient with you, there are a plethora of ways she can go about reminding you who you belong to, and yet your wrists remain unbound and your breasts remain unmarked by the leather of her favorite flogger that’s just an arms distance away. “Whats my fucking name, slut? Or do I need to carve it into you? How pretty would you be with my name on your thigh; ruined for anyone else who even tries to get between these legs? My little slut forever.” 

A strangled moan falls into the air as Maria sinks her teeth into the skin of your neck just beneath your ear, and your hands that have remained at your sides throughout this entire exchange shoot up to scratch at her back, blood bubbling to the surface as you spare to ounce of lightness to your touch. She’s marked you, now she’ll bear your marks for days to come. “S-Sir!” 

Maria hums, satisfied with your answer, but unwilling to forgive you completely. Her hips continue to pound into you until she reaches her high, thighs quivering as she moans in pure delight until she’s too sensitive to continue on with her ministrations. The strap-on leaves your entrance quickly, your overstimulated and sensitive walls pleading for it to stay, but Maria’s done for the night, and she’s decided that you are too. She reaches for the abandoned glass of wine, taking a sip smugly as she straddles your hips, damp toy splayed across your naked belly as your chest heaves and you look up at her pleadingly. 

“You’ll get to cum when I don’t have to remind you who I am.”

Natasha –

Natasha’s hips continue to rock into you even as she leans forward and captures your lips between hers. The room is filled with a thin layer of smoke, the scents of weed and sex entangling together and yet it's somehow entirely Natasha as you lay beneath her, willing to take whatever she wants to give you. Your head is fuzzy, filled with only thoughts of her and the lightness that the bud had brought over your senses. Her body is warm as her naked chest presses against yours, already marked by her passionate kisses and bites that will linger for days to come in secret. Her pupils are blown wide, a combination of her lust and the joint she’s rolled skillfully. Her fingers are educated in the art of many things, but unraveling you is one of her most prized hobbies. Her lungs are filled with smoke from the last drag she’s taken, and as the seconds linger on with her lips still pressed firmly to yours, unmoving but eager to claim you intimately, she exhales into your open mouth and forces you to take the smoke that she fills it with. It burns as you inhale, slipping down your throat smoothly and filling your own lungs, but it’s pleasant and you greedily allow her to continue until all that remains is an empty kiss that was once filled with weed. The smoke trails out in wispy strands of white and gray, and they dance between your faces until the open space claims it and the visual is gone. 

When she pulls away, there’s a devilish smirk on her lips that even another drag can’t erase entirely. She raises the joint to her lips again, eyes fluttering closed as she sits back on her heels, the cum-filled strap she borrows from Carol still buried within your walls and yet agonizingly still as she lets her head fall back in contentment. The cloud of milky white smoke that settles around her is entirely erotic, almost a halo of intoxication above her head, but there’s hardly a second for you to admire how ethereal she looks in this state before she presses into you firmly and resumes her rocking. Her pace is punishing albeit shallow, the tip of the strap-on hitting your perfect spot so softly it feels like butterfly sings batting against your skin, but she’s ruthless with her speed and the quick motions of her hips are enough to have you gripping at the sheets and looping your legs around her waist to draw her in deeper. 

Natasha laughs smugly at the sight of you so fried and desperate. She raises the joint to your lips with one hand, encouraging you to take a hit before her other hand wraps loosely around your neck. She doesn’t apply any pressure as you take a long drag, eyes fluttering closed as you involuntarily shiver at the taste lingering on your tongue, but the presence of her grip is enough to have your hips bucking into hers. 

“F-fuck sir!” You cry out when she obliges with your silent request and begins to thrust deeper into your core, the head of the toy pounding right against your sensitive spot with practiced ease as your head falls back against the pillows and your lips release the joint. A cough falls off your lips as you moan around the smoke in your lungs, eyes becoming watery from the burning sting, but you have no time to recover from the hit before Natasha’s hand is tightening around your neck and her hips are setting into you faster and harder. 

Her lips purse as she collects spit on the tip of her tongue, letting it fall against your flush cheek before she smears it down your neck, fingers that are still holding the lit join trailing across the expanse of your sensitive and worked over skin. She’s playing with fire now, quite literally, smearing her spit across your chest until she finds a home at your pebbled nipple and pinches roughly, but you have no ounce of self-preservation in your body as you watch the lit joint fall closer and closer to the marked skin of your chest as she tightened her grip on your neck and leans cynically close to your face. Her eyes are dark, clouded with lust and intoxication. Her hips have set a punishing pace and each time she drives the head of the strap into your g-spot your vision goes white with pleasure. 

“That’s not my fucking name. Are you really that much of a slut that you’re thinking about Masha as I’m fucking you. We can get Masha if you’d like, I’m sure she’d love to watch as I fuck you into my mattress until the only words you know how to say are Daddy please. I’m sure she’d love to lay between these legs and watch my cum spill out of you before I push it right back in and plug you up. Fucking whore. Is Daddy fucking you too good? Is that little brain so overwhelmed with pleasure that you don’t even know who’s fucking you?” Natasha lightens her grip on your nipple, bringing the joint back up to her lips before she drops it into the ashtray on her bedside table and grips the dildo, throwing her head back as her thrusts become choppy. “I bet you’d let anyone fuck this cunt. All you want is to cum. Fuck!” She curses as she drops her body against yours, lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss as she squeezes the shaft tightly, cum spurting against your walls and marking them with a milky whiteness. “Cum with me. Fuck!” 

With her permission, the coil in your belly finally snaps, and you arch into her touch as she rides out her own orgasm, the cum slipping down your legs and coating your inner thighs and her sheets. “Fuck Daddy!” 

“Good girl. Scream my name. Let Masha hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

Wanda – 

When Wanda invited you over to fuck, you’d anticipated something quick. What you hadn’t expected, was for her to bind your wrists to her headboard and force your legs apart with her recently purchased spreader bar. You’d been at her mercy for hours now, writhing on the bed beneath her as she took her time working you up. First it had been her fingers that dared to ruin you, the ringed digits slipping between your folds and teasing your clit and entrance until you were dripping onto the bed sheets and pleading with her to give you something more. She’d agreed easily, not even putting up a fight to prove her dominance over you. Those skilled fingers had turned into a skilled tongue. The hot muscle pressed against your clit, lapped at your entrance and slurped up the damp arousal that glistened beneath the moonlight that bled into the room from the open window. She was relentless in her teasing, and as overstimulated as you were beneath her touch, you were equally as frustrated. She’d been at it for hours, bringing you just close enough to taste the sweet relief of your orgasm before she pulled away and began the process all over again. You’d cursed her out six times since she started, and each time she merely chuckled against your core and slapped her palm down harshly against your cunt, sure to let her fingers brush against your clit for merely a second before it was gone and her tongue soothed the ache but brought nothing more. 

Your hands itched to tangle into her hair, and yet each time you reached for her you remembered how she’d so intricately bound you to the headboard with the softest rope in her collection. Your hips bucked upward as she pulled away again, your entrance clenching around nothing as your clit throbbed and protested. A broken cry fell off your lips as you shook your head frantically, needing her back on you and relieving the intense ache that she had single handedly created. Her lips and chin glistened with your arousal as she smirked down at you, the vibrating egg between her legs working her up to an orgasm you could only beg for. 

A whine rippled through your chest before it tumbled into the room, the words you’d been chanting for hours mangled and wrong as they came spiraling out fast and strung together. “Captain! P-Please!” Wanda growled lowly at the slip, her eyes dark and sinister as she leaned forward to grab your jaw and force your eyes on her. 

“What did you call me?” Despite how she articulated every syllable in the sentence, she wasn’t really looking for you to respond to her. In a swift motion, she’d reached across the bed to grab the panties that she’d pulled from your legs when you’d first joined her in the bedroom, and shoved them into your mouth. The balled up fabric was damp and uncomfortable as it sat on your tongue, but despite how hard you strained to force them away from your mouth, you couldn’t get them out with your arms bound and her body restricting your movements. 

Your eyes tracked her movements as she fumbled around in the drawers of her bedside table, thighs straddling your waist as she leaned forward and subsequently rocked the vibrating egg farther into her tight channel. She trembled in pleasure, but everything about her was always so perfectly kept that it was hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t you. Her rustling had lasted mere seconds before a black marker that had been used weeks prior to mark up a project poster now in her grip and uncapped. You had no idea what she planned to do with it, but there wasn’t any way for you to ask if you wanted to. You were helpless to watch as she slid down your body and dragged the inky tip across the skin of your breasts before moving downward. 

You gasped when the cold tip of the marker dragged across the skin right above your mound, thick black letters that you had to strain your neck to read lingering on your skin only to be gone when you washed your body of her touch later that night. ‘Mommy’s Slut’, was written just above your cunt, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied in stopping there. She dragged the felt tip across the inside of your thigh, holding your legs still as they wiggled away from the ticklish sensations she provoked. A thick arrow pointed straight at your weeping entrance, and Wanda was cruel enough to write, ‘cum slut’ at the tip of the arrow. A cry fell off your lips when she threw the marker onto the floor, and returned to her position between your legs. Her mouth was cruel as it worked you up to the edge, but unlike the times prior, she hadn’t stopped when you’d begun to wriggle around as an indication of your approaching orgasm. You fell over the cliffside in bliss, but that had only lasted long enough for your orgasm to crash over you and then she was gone, forcing you to ride it out with no further stimulation. 

A harsh slap met your sensitive cunt when you finally stilled on her bed, teary eyed and desperate for something more as you stared up at her with wide pleading eyes. Wanda wasn’t willing to comply however, and instead of satisfying you fully, she trailed harsh bites up your torso and between the valley of your breasts before her lips, still glistening with your arousal, found a home against yours. The dainty pink panties with a frail little bow on the waistband still between your teeth and properly wet from your saliva, but she hadn’t trailed so close to your face to kiss you. Instead, she settled her harsh glare on you, a sinister smile curling the edges of her lips upward as she let a damp finger stroke across your cheekbones, “I guess Mommy has to remind you of who you belong to. We’ll see if you deserve to cum in a few days.” 

Carol –

The buttplug is an added sensation that Carol uses to her advantage as she works to unravel you completely before you both have to leave for class. You’re not new to butt plugs, Maria’s quite the fan of them, but you’re new to them with Carol and the ways that she likes to toy with your stimulated body. You're on all fours in the center of her bed, knees sinking into the mattress as your hands grasp and twist at the comforter, absolutely desperate for relief that’s been slowly building beneath the surface. Her fingers are buried deep into your core, curling into your g-spot and massaging your velvet walls with pride. Her tongue circles the plug in your ass teasingly, and every couple of minutes when you least expect it, she presses against the base of the plug in tandem with her harsher thrusts before she scissors you open. 

Carol smirks against your ass as she sinks her teeth into your left cheek, her hand slapping down on you right just as she flicks her thumb over your clit. A muffled moan falls off of your lips as you bury your face into the comforter, your hips rocking back on their own accord as you attempt to chase after her touch, a strangled cry of, “Daddy more!”, vibrating your cheek as you twist your head to rest your cheek against the comforter and stare back at her. 

Carol is relatively unbothered by your slip of her title, but she doesn’t let it go entirely, not that you’re aware yet. Her fingers work into you easily, her thumb rubbing harsher, tighter circles around your clit until you're spasming on the bed. She smirks against the globe of your ass, her thumb pressing firmly against the plug with the hand that’s not buried between your thighs. “That’s not my name Princess and you know that.” Carol says smugly, grinding her hips down onto the edge of the bed as she chases her own relief, knowing there’s not enough time in the ten minutes she has left with you to reverse your position and have you go down on her. 

“Captain!” You cry out sharply, reaching your hand back to grasp onto Carol’s as the coil builds in your belly almost unbearably. The engineering major merely smirks, digging her teeth into your ass a final time before she encourages you to spill around her fingers. That’s all it takes for you to cave and tremble as she continues to scissor you open and curl her fingers into your cunt, but as quickly as your orgasm comes, she’s pulling away and throwing your clothes at your head. “You’re really going to go to class like that?” You question her, laying dazing on her bed as you twist onto your back and watch her run a baby wipe between her legs before she’s wiggling into a pair of fresh panties and reaching for her pants. 

“Yes, and so are you. Get up. That plug doesn’t come out until I take it out.” She says in the most unphased tone, reaching for the crewneck that’s been laying across her desk chair for days, not even bothering to reach for the bra that’s only inches away. 

“W-What?” Your eyes go wide as you sit up in bed, wincing slightly at the pressure in your ass as the plug presses against the inner parts of you sweetly, ropes of pleasure shooting through your core. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you, Princess?” Carol merely winks before she’s flying out of the room, shouting that you have three minutes to meet her in the car before she leaves without you and makes you walk to class.

[loveluvrs]

unfamiliar l lando norris x reader

request/summary – reader getting overwhelmed (in a good way) at all the care and love lando shows her, despite how she's been treated her whole life

author's notes – this is just pure fluff, ive had no motivation lately so please send requests!! 🙏

Lando and I are at his parents’ house for dinner, and I’m helping his mum wash the dishes and clean up afterwards when I accidentally drop one of the glasses. The glass shatters everywhere, and I immediately panic. I start apologizing profusely since usually my family would get mad if I broke something. Lando froze as the glass dropped onto the floor, and he immediately processed the way I was apologizing out of habit. He wrapped his arms around me to calm me down, speaking to me softly, “hey, hey, hey… its alright, baby… are you okay?”

“Yeah but I dropped the glass and it fell everywhere and now you’re gonna have to clean it up and-“ I begin to ramble on nervously. He squeezed his arms around me lovingly to cut me off. “I know, my love, I know. I heard when you dropped it, but are you alright? Did you get cut anywhere by the broken glass?”

I stopped as I lifted my head up to look at him. “…You’re not mad?” I asked quietly. “No, of course not… it was an accident. The important thing is that you’re okay, and you’re not hurt,” he says softly as his hand rubs my back lovingly in the hug. I frown, my heart aching from the care and consideration he was showing towards me. “I’m alright,” I mumble. 

The frown on your face made Lando’s heart drop for a second. He knew you never had a great relationship with your parents, but it was only at this moment that he realized you weren’t at all used to the love he was giving you. He didn’t like the thought of someone ever getting upset at his girl for a small accident like dropping a glass, and he knew of course that she wouldn’t have said anything back. He sighs. “As long as you’re okay, baby, that’s what matters…” he says softly. 

“I did get just a small cut, though,” I say quietly as I turn over my hand to Lando. He instinctively ran his finger over the cut, figuring out how bad it was. It was a small cut, but he couldn’t help but worry. “Doesn’t look too bad… does it hurt much?” He asks with concern lacing his voice in each word. I shake my head no as I say, “just stings a tiny bit,” trying to downplay the injury. 

Lando brought me upstairs, sitting me down on the bed in his childhood room. He washed off the cut and wrapped a bandage around it, tending to me with extreme care the whole time. 

“How come you’re not mad?” I asked curiously. He smiles softly as he looks up at me, speaking in a soft and gentle tone to not worry me. “I’m not mad because it doesn’t make sense for me being mad. It was an accident. You shouldn’t be yelled at for accidentally dropping a glass. I was just worried if you were hurt or not, that’s the only thing I care about.”

I frown as I feel his words pull at my heartstrings. “I love you, thank you for treating me like this,” I say softly. I look down at him, still kneeling in front of me with my hand in his. “I love you too, baby, and I’m always going to treat you like this. I’d gladly rather take some pain from you, just to make sure you’re safe and happy. It’s really just not worth it getting mad over something like this, especially not getting mad at you,” he says with the utmost gentleness. 

“It’s just so…. different to what I’m used to. I never know how to act when you give me all this love, Lan,” I say as I interlock our fingers. He gives a sympathetic smile. He hates how you were trying to process the amount of love he was giving you. He knew you had always been so used to people giving you a hard time over minor things, so much so that being shown love was so foreign to you. His heart aches as he thinks about how hero desperately wants to change all of that and love you in every way possible. “I know, my love. Just try your best, because I’m going to keep giving you a whole bunch of love,” he teases. 

I sniffled as my eyes became glossy with tears. “I’m- I’m sorry. I just- I love you so much,” I muttered as I tried to hold back my tears. Lando immediately wiped away my tears with the pad of his thumb, his touch gentle and as light as a feather. He lets out a sigh. “I love you too. So much. And don’t ever apologize to me for showing your emotion, hmm?” He says as he brushes a hand through my hair. 

I sniffle once more, the sobs forming at the back of my throat. “I just- you show me how you care about me so much. and I don’t know how to react to these things. I don’t know how to show you I love and care about you just as much,” I say with a frown. 

Lando squeezes my hand. “That’s okay.. Just do whatever you’re comfortable with doing, you hear me? I know you’re not used to all of it, so all I really need is you being comfortable with me. That’s it,” he says softly as he places a kiss on the back of my hand. At his words, I hold my arms wide for a hug, as his hands wrap around my waist, my face burrowing in the crook of his neck. “I’ll help clean up the mess, I promise,” I mutter into his neck. 

Lando pulls back ever so slightly from the hug so he can see my face. “You can if you want to. But baby, why do you feel the need to do all this? I mean, yeah I want the glass cleaned up, but my mum and I can do that ourselves while you can just relax?” He asks in confusion. 

“i just- i dont know. it always feels like i need to compensate with doing work for others so that they don’t get mad at me and they still like me,” I murmur quietly. “Aaaaand see… there is the problem. You feel like you need to compensate and do work for others so that they don’t get mad and stay with you. But you don’t have to compensate for me… or my mum… the two of us would be perfectly happy with you just enjoying your time here and not dealing with the cleanup…” Lando says as he tilts my chin up ever so slightly so I look at him in the eyes. 

“But how are you gonna love me if I don’t do things for you guys?” I ask with a frown. 

“I love you for who you are as a person, baby. It's okay for you to do things for me for the sake of showing that you love me or whatnot... but you don't need to do extra things just to make me or my mom like you, or just to make sure I don't leave you. Does that make sense?” He says softly. I fidget with my fingers nervously at his words. 

“Babe, what's wrong...?” He asks with a small sigh. 

“It’s just all so unfamiliar…” I whisper quietly into his neck. Lando traces circles into the small of my back as he hears this, “mhm, I know it is… I’m just trying to make it less unfamiliar to you. It might take some time, but I’ll be here the whole time so you can get used to it.”

He pulled back from the hug as he held my hand again, still making sure that he was gentle. “I’m just scared it won’t ever be familiar to me,” I confess in a hushed whisper. 

Lando immediately frowned at my words, as he felt his heart ache a little, “hey, don’t be scared of that… because I’m going to take care of you the whole time, yeah? I’m gonna make sure that it eventually will be familiar for you. That it’ll be normal for you.” He rubs his thumb over my hand, looking at me with loving eyes. “You’ll get used to this… to being treated this way… to the love… I promise.”

I nod. “Thank you for taking care of me,” I say every so softly. “No need to thank me, just the bare minimum for my girl, hmm?” He says as he pulls me in for a short kiss. And just for that one moment, he needed me to feel like there was nothing wrong with all the love he was giving me, that there was nothing else I ever deserved in the whole world. 

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Ah I see well if that's the case ♦️ I would like to request Sub Albedo "experimenting" on Dom male reader. Which is a excuse to have rough sex.

Author's Note: The concept I went with is; Albedo is testing out a new potion that causes Reader to get suuuuper horny, so Reader indulges his urges and this leads to very rough, primal fucking (something that Albedo 100% planned on/wished for). I hope that works for you, anon! :3

Pairings: Albedo x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Albedo, rough sex, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, dry humping, reader gains an inhuman amount of stamina temporarily

“How is it?”

You attempt to stifle an incoming burp before replying, “Not… great. Not the worst taste either.”

Albedo smiles faintly, penning something down before he turns towards the table behind him. He reaches for a glass jar filled with small, crystalline objects and pulls one out.

“Here,” he says, placing the object in your palm. “this should help with the taste without disturbing the potion.” You smile and thank him, popping the small—what you now realize is candy—into your mouth. Its sweetness coats your tongue, erasing the weird bitterness of Albedo's concoction. It's rather nice, actually.

Minutes pass by. Your partner asks you a few more questions and notes down your answers, then turns back to tinker with some other glass beaker (filled with another strangely coloured liquid), leaving you to remain seated on an adjacent table as the potion he had you test sets in.

At first, you didn't feel any different — no sudden change in body temperature, not a single gurgle from your stomach, nor any hallucinations to be found. Although… the newfound tightness of your pants was undeniable…

“Mmrgh…” a groan escapes you, but you don't think Albedo notices. He's too focused on maintaining the temperature of that other potion.

The throbbing between your legs is in sync with your heartbeat; growing louder by the second and speeding up as your thighs tense and twitch all on their own.

“H-hey… 'Bedo?”

“Hm?” He doesn't turn around yet.

“Is that… supposed to make me feel warm? Like, real warm?” you ask, chest heaving greatly.

Albedo holds a beaker up and swirls the liquid inside around as he replies, “It is a possibility. Is your body temperature increasing?”

You pant. Dragonspine definitely shouldn't feel so hot… not even in the comfort of your partner's cave-lab, tucked away from the icy wind that plagues the rest of the mountain. “I… maybe? It's hard to tell by myself.”

Finally, he turns around to face you. His face is as unreadable as always as he walks over and begins to inspect you; placing the back of his gloved hand to your forehead. Albedo pivots back around to retrieve his clipboard and pen, writing something down again.

By now, you're humping the air, desperate to feel a little friction against your dick as it strains against your pants. Either Albedo is oblivious, or he's ignoring it, because he keeps asking questions even while you're grinding against your own pants…

But that's not enough… “Hey, c-can I… see your hand a sec?” your voice is hushed, but the alchemist hears your request and holds out his hand for you anyways.

He gasps, unmoving as he lets you put his hand in between your legs; you're grinding even harder, the tent in your pants pressing hard against his palm, and your precum leaks through the fabric easily. You moan and lean your head back as a small wave of relief eases the searing ache that racked your body before. Now you simply used Albedo's hand as an object to hump, like a pathetic mutt in heat. And, thankfully, he didn't stop you. Albedo allowed you to become this crude display, even tossing the clipboard aside so both hands could cup your erection and stroke it (which you were undoubtedly grateful for!)

“Fascinating…” he mutters, just as you feel a chill on your dick as Albedo pulls it out, his hands wrapping around your length fully. It takes both of his hands to fully work your cock; they glide up and down expertly, spreading every dribble of precum. The rough texture of his gloves adds to the pleasure—not rough enough to be unpleasant or painful, but just enough to spice up an already amazing handjob. Albedo's skills have improved so much ever since you started dating.

The cold table knocks against the stone ground underneath as you shamelessly thrust up into your partner's fists. The surface chips with every clench of your fists, your nails dig in harshly and create marks as the tips of Albedo's fingers graze against your cock head. He knows how to play with your body in such a way that would make you bend to his will; relentless teasing and touching so, so close to where you need him to. But he doesn't. He leaves you wanting more, even as he gives you so much already.

Your breath hitches when he rubs the head once more, and you wheeze out “Fuck–!! Fuck… baby… please…!! You're gonna use more than just yer hands, right?”

Albedo meets your gaze, and you can barely make out the flicker of excitement in his eyes. His movement halts as he tilts his head, asking “Did you have something particular in mind?”

Before the alchemist can say more, he finds himself pushed between your legs, face smushed against your glistening, throbbing cock. The smell alone makes him dizzy. Just being in this position, in such close proximity to your dick, has Albedo growing hard himself, eyes half-lidded and tongue licking the underside of your cock almost mindlessly.

“Suck it.” you half plead, half command. He planned to anyway, but it's not like he has much of a choice with your heavy hand pushing his head down, forcing him to swallow half of your cock right away. He coughs, squeezing your thighs in a slight panic before adjusting to the steady thrusting of your hips. You keep both hands firmly on Albedo's head now, holding it in place as you fuck his warm mouth.

“Mmph! Mhm, suck that cock, babe- yeah–!!” A shaky breath surprises you, brought on by the alchemist playing with your balls while you use him.

It doesn't take much more for you to fill his mouth — a thick load of cum, which Albedo swallows easily. Whatever didn't go down dribbles down his chin, hanging there as he catches his breath.

Though you just came seconds ago, you notice that your dick is still standing upright, hard as it was and coated in the aftermath of that sudden blowjob. Whatever Albedo used in that potion must be messing with your hormones, because that primal desire to fuck—to bury your cock in a tight hole and breed them stupid—was still gnawing at your conscience.

Before he could register your movement, the chalk prince found himself bent over the table you were just sitting on; pinned by a hand on the small of his back, and teased as you push your stiff cock in between his cheeks, grinding fervently.

But it's not enough… he's wearing far too much clothing right now–

Albedo yelps, startled when he feels the fabric covering his ass tear. A large hole left him wide open, and you don't hesitate in slamming your dick inside of him. To your surprise, your dirty boyfriend must have prepped himself, because his hole was already slick and slightly loose when you entered.

“Oooohh shit~ Oh my god– haha, were you hoping for this, Albedo?” you growled, smacking his ass. “You dirty bitch, you just wanted- fuck! …you just wanted me to pound you, right?” Albedo bit his lower lip, peering at you over his shoulder with a look that confirmed your suspicion.

Well if that's what he wants, then you'll happily give him a real pounding; fit for a prince 💛

You grip his shoulders and speed up, hitting his sweet spot. His walls squeeze your dick, milking another load out of you. …Except, this time, you don't stop. Despite your orgasm, you don't feel the need to recover; instead, you keep that bruising pace while Albedo cries out, swearing and gasping.

The table bangs absurdly loud with every thrust, scooting across the mountain floor until it's up against the wall. The alchemist screams in ecstasy, repeating “yesyesyesyesyesyes–!! ”. You're hammering your semen deeper inside, listening to the squishy sounds of your boyfriend's hole, watching your length disappear as he takes all of it.

“Gonna cum again! Take it, baby- take all of it—!!” with a grunt, you finish inside of him again. Albedo's body lifts up as you push inside as deep as physically possible, his feet dangling off the ground as his eyes roll back, and a silent moan falls from his open mouth.

You both remain there, shaking—trembling—until your muscles give out and you collapse on top of him. Neither one has the strength to move for a while.

Albedo hums when he feels you nuzzle against him with your cheek. Your hands remain on him in some manner; trailing up and down his sides, reaching up to tangle with his hands, or thumbing at his lip softly. He whines, a familiar throbbing sensation buried in his guts signaling that the effects of that potion haven't quite worn off yet……

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ XOXO ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — choso, toji, sukuna, toge (separately) x gn!reader

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — first kisses with the boys. ;; requested.

☆. # WARNINGS — mentions of blood in toji’s part.

CHOSO.

i’d imagine your first kiss with choso would be sweet. definitely the most normal out of all of them (😭)

he’s never kissed someone before so you’re his first kiss ever!!

he really doesn’t know what to do at all. when you lean closer to him he’s like ????? because he’s not entirely sure what you’re trying to do

but once your lips touch his, his face goes BRIGHT RED

definitely freezes up and just stares at you wide-eyed

i think the first kiss with choso wouldn’t be anything wild. honestly, it’s probably just a little peck on the lips

like a “mwah” and that’s it, but he still freaks out about it

also. choso will definitely look all dazed afterwards, his fingers reaching up to touch his lips

might be a little confused at first since he’s not really sure what to make of it

give him 5 minutes and he’ll be back and asking, “can you do that again?”

TOJI.

with this one, there’s no holding back. he doesn’t care if it’s the first or last kiss.

he will bruise your lips 🥴🥴

toji would hold the back of your head and press you even closer to him, despite the fact that not a piece of paper would fit between you two

first kiss? no. he’s eating your mouth.

i feel like even if he told himself (and maybe you) that he’ll be gentle and that it’ll be this sweet little thing, he just CANNOT hold himself back

self control = 0.000 for this man i stg

but then if it does go out of control, trust that he’ll blame you for it. you’re just too hot, what can he do against that? 💀

i’d imagine your first kiss with toji would happen after a particularly hard mission. when one of you is all bloody and you’re both exhausted and aching.

and it’s definitely a ‘heat of the moment’ type of thing and after that, it’ll take 5-7 business days for both of you to come to terms with the fact that MAYBE, just maybe, you’ve got some kind of feelings for each other

he doesn’t know what a gentle kiss is and will always use tongue. the kiss to seal the wedding? good luck 😭😭😭

SUKUNA.

first important question here is: which mouth are you trying to kiss 💀 mf got like 3.

this man’s kisses are nasty—whether in a good or bad way is honestly your decision LMAO

with sukuna, it’s all or nothing. so there’s no sweet little peck on the lips.

it also heavily depends on who you are, i think. but if we’re talking about the first kiss you have with him, i’d say it’d probably happen during a fight.

as funny as that is, he likes when strong people fight him and i think he likes it even better if they’re a little feisty

now he probably always thought you were interesting and you’ve been hanging out together. but yeah. first kiss after or DURING a (probably) physical fight you have with him 💀

he’s rough with you.

a lot of tongue, teeth clashing probably. another one that will eat your mouth.

one hand is wrapped around your neck when he kisses you, always.

he also bites (😒)

TOGE.

i think with toge, you were probably best friends before the kiss happened.

you were on his bed together in the dorms. he was playing a game on his phone and you were watching him.

you were probably messing around with each other, joking and fighting with pillows or something like that.

and it’s the most cliché thing ever but:

he somehow ends up on top of you, his arms on either side of your head.

and then you just stare at each other for a while. both of your cheeks flaring up a bright red at the proximity, but neither of you tries to move away.

with toge, it’s slow and gentle i’d imagine.

not a quick peck, but there’s no tongue involved or anything—at least not during the very first kiss you guys have together.

but it’s a gentle touch, his lips lingering for a while before he pulls away. and then there’s another round of simply staring at each other. both of you are a bit dazed, looking into each other’s eyes while trying to figure out what exactly just happened

but once the moment’s broken, toge gets off of you, hiding his face in his collar to stop you from seeing just how red his cheeks are <3

[daisynik7]

cw: established relationship, smut - car sex (cowgirl), cunnilingus, creampie, spit used as lube

Author's Note: Been a minute since I wrote a smutty Nanami drabble and I thought of this today while in heat LOL. Enjoy! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

Thinking about you and Nanami sneaking off during your company holiday party to fuck each other silly in the car. 

He’s your plus one tonight, dressed to the nines in his signature suit and tie, looking as dashing as ever. You’re in the new dress he bought you, the perfect fit, matching subtlety with him. He hasn’t been able to take his hands off you, one always draped over your shoulders, behind your back, or around your waist. He squeezes you gently whenever one of your wacky coworkers says something inappropriate or unhinged, even firmer if it’s your boss saying it. When you’re both sat at the table, waiting for dinner to be served, he places his hand on your knee, holding you because he just can’t stop touching you, especially in this dress. 

Dinner and two glasses of wine in, you warn him that it’s almost time for the speeches, which are notoriously long and boring. Feeling frisky, he stands up, pulling you with him, briefly explaining to the others at your table that you have to excuse yourselves for whatever reason. They don’t bat an eye, too immersed in their own drinking and merriment to even care where you two run off to. 

Nanami opens the car door for you, like a true gentlemen, beckoning you into the backseat. And unlike a gentleman, he slaps your ass on the way in, chuckling to himself as you playfully yell at him. He follows, locking the car from the inside, already shedding his blazer off. You do the same with your dress, but he stops you, a wild look in his eyes. “Keep this on. I want to fuck you in it.”

You fold the fabric up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist, allowing you to spread your legs wide enough to display your cunt to him. Of course you aren’t wearing underwear. In fact, he told you not to, intending to do this to you from the very start. If there’s anything you’ve learned about your husband in the last year or two, it’s that he’s recently developed a kink for spontaneous car sex. Not that you’re complaining. 

He dives in, spreading his tongue and smearing his spit all over your aching clit. He’s quick and vicious with it, desperate for your orgasm so he can feel it all around him when he eventually slides his cock inside you. It doesn’t take long for you to give it to him, and once you do, he hoists you onto his lap, kissing you sloppily with his cum-coated lips. You straddle him, grinding against him, your wetness leaking onto his slacks. He pulls out his cock, throbbing in his fist, staring at you with a hazy expression. “Spit on it.” 

You give him a smile and a smooch before dribbling a thick wad of your saliva straight onto his shaft. He shudders, coating his entire length with it, stroking it fast in his grip. He circles the wetted tip around your swollen clit before sliding inside you, letting out a guttural moan as soon as he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he grunts, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead, cupping your cheek softly in the palm of his hand. 

You nuzzle into his touch, rocking yourself back and forth on him. “Fuck me, Kento. And don’t hold back.”

And he doesn’t, fucking you hard and rough, making you temporarily forget about that silly holiday party still happening inside. They have no clue that you’re getting fucked stupid in the backseat of your car by your husband. That he’s tearing this pussy up with every brutal thrusts he pounds into you, his thumb massaging deep into your core, greedy for your orgasms. 

Neither of you care what a mess you’re making, his hair matted on his sweaty forehead, your dress wrinkled and ruined, his slacks splotched with damp spots from your slick leaking out. It gets even messier when he comes inside you, unable to stop some of his creamy load from seeping into the fabric of his pants.  

Without much of an effort, the two of your pull yourselves together enough to head back to the party. Nanami wraps his jacket around his waist, looking ridiculous, and you ignore the curious stares of your coworkers as they eye the suspicious winkles on your dress. 

It doesn’t matter anyways; you only return in time to collect your bonus. Once it’s in your hands, you thank your boss and excuse yourselves for the rest of the night, ready for round two, three, and four in the comfort of your own home. 

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry!!! I love your writing so so much, you're one of my fav authors ❤

I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing a part 2 for accessories? Bc oh lord 🥵 I just know Miguel loves spoiling his baby with jewelry and all his attention

Maybe they go out shopping or on a date and someone starts trying to hit on reader, so ofc he gets all jealous and possessive bc can't they read? They're literally wearing Miguel's name around their neck, and someone has the audacity to try and take his baby from him?

They go home and Miguel puts their collar on, just to remind them who they belong to 🥰🥰🥰

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Collars, Possessiveness, Mentions of Obstructed Breathing

A/N: Thank you so much, love!! I hope this lives up to your expectations!!!

Not Edited

Part 1

It's warm, no, hot.

Maybe it's because of the pillow, face pushed down by his large hand to the point where air just barely manages to filter through your partly unobstructed nose. Or maybe that's what's causing this dizzy, muffled feeling in your head. That, paired with the delicious pressure of leather against your neck, the cold tinges of metal skimming against your skin every now and then. It just feels so good, even with Miguel whispering horrible things in your ear. Things that don't really land and you only reply to with snuffed out moans that cause the white pillows to go grey with saliva.

Maybe he's saying something about you being his, or maybe something about teaching you who you belong to, or how he's the only one who can get you dumb on cock. Who knows? Does it matter? Surely not. Not when the only thing that's getting through your mind is just how amazing it feels to have the heaviness of his dick stretching you wide. Not when your eyes are rolled back with how forceful his pelvis meets your ass, making your body shake with the force and speed of it. Not when your hands are gripping so hard onto the sheets that they might rip because you don't know how to handle all the pleasure circling through your body.

It's just so good that you really don't care what Miguel is saying, can't even process it.

But he wants you to hear him. It's obvious from the way the hand pressing your head down into his pillows is now wrapped around your neck, pressing the leather further into your skin as he forces your head up. You gasp as your neck is forced in a slightly uncomfortable position, air fully filling your lungs and cooling the saliva wetting your chin. Miguel's nose is pressed into your cheek, the musky smell of sex, sweat, and his spicy cologne invading your senses. He doesn't once stop the moving of his hips, the large cock inside your tiny hole still dragging against your walls.

"Bet he wishes he could even get the chance to make you so stupid on cock like this, huh? Bet ya' don't even remember his name though, yeah?"

You don't even know who he is, can't remember anything past Miguel dragging you into the bedroom after your date. And even that is getting hazier with each of his rough thrusts. Surely it couldn't be that important, right? So you only moan out, back arching as your eyes look towards the ceiling. Miguel chuckles, mumbles something against your skin that you don't catch over your own moans and skin slapping. The rapid beginnings of a pleasurable ache in your stomach is all you can comprehend, choked moans and gasps parting from your lips until they form a loud wail of Miguel's name.

Miguel curses behind you, his hips not stilling even after your orgasm causes tremors in your body. You let out a pathetic whisper as blunt nails scrape the nape of your neck as Miguel's hand grabs hold of your collar from behind, like you're an out of control dog who looks ready to run off at any moment. He pulls you back, practically forcing your body upright against his sticky skin. His hot breaths fan over your ear, and his teeth are gritted in a groan as he spills hot seed inside of you.

"That's right, cachorro. That's who you belong to."

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

request: reader needs some comfort during a depressive episode but doesn’t know how to communicate that to mommy wanda and in turn shuts her out. mommy wanda is obviously distraught and tries everything to get reader to let her in but reader thinks shes been too needy lately and doesn’t want to bother wanda. little does she know that wanda cries at night thinking shes done something wrong to hurt us

Mommy!Wanda x fem!reader

Summary: You've been stuck in a depressive episode, not wanting to bother your Mommy, but she knows when you're struggling and only wants to help.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Mentions of depression, hurt/comfort

Author's Notes: Boy listen here everyone needs a Mommy Wanda when going through a depressive episode. It would cure all of us I'm sure of it!

The room was dimly lit, shadows playing across the walls as the evening sun set. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the floor. The weight of your thoughts felt like an anchor, pulling you deeper into a sea of sadness. The idea of reaching out to anyone, even to Mommy Wanda, seemed overwhelming. You didn't want to burden her, not again.

Wanda, on the other hand, was pacing in the kitchen. She'd noticed your withdrawal over the past few days and it gnawed at her heart. She tried everything—gentle knocks on your door, leaving your favorite snacks on the counter, sending you little texts filled with love and concern. But nothing seemed to break through the walls you'd built around yourself.

Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes as she thought of you, alone in your room. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting to let herself cry again. But the nights were the hardest. Once she was in bed, her thoughts raced, and the tears came freely. She feared she’d done something wrong, that she’d somehow pushed you away. She ached to comfort you, to hold you close and make everything better, but she didn’t know how to reach you.

Tonight, she couldn’t take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, Wanda walked to your room and knocked softly. "Sweetheart, can I come in?" Her voice was gentle, but you could hear the worry behind it.

You hesitated, your heart aching with the desire to let her in but your mind pulling you back, telling you that you were too much, that you were a burden. After a long moment, you finally whispered, "Okay."

Wanda opened the door slowly, stepping inside with a tentative smile. She saw the tears in your eyes, the way you were curled up defensively. Her heart broke a little more. She walked over and sat beside you on the bed, not saying anything at first. She simply wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close.

"It's okay, darling," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "You can let it out. I'm here."

You wanted to resist, to push her away and keep everything bottled up inside, but her warmth, her presence was too comforting. The tears started to fall, and before you knew it, you were sobbing into her shoulder. Wanda held you tightly, her own tears mingling with yours.

"I’m so sorry, Mommy," you choked out between sobs. "I didn’t want to bother you. I’ve been too needy lately."

Wanda shook her head, her grip on you tightening. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re never a bother. Never. I love you so much, and I want to be here for you. Please don’t shut me out. It hurts me more to see you suffering alone."

You cried harder at her words, the guilt and relief washing over you. Wanda rocked you gently, whispering soothing words, letting you know over and over how much she loved you, how much you meant to her.

As the sobs began to subside, Wanda pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "Promise me something, okay? Promise me you’ll talk to me, even if it’s hard. We’ll get through this together."

You nodded, sniffling. "I promise."

Wanda smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. "Good. Now, how about we get some hot cocoa and watch a movie? Just the two of us."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of hope. "I’d like that."

Wanda kissed your forehead and helped you up. As you walked together to the kitchen, you felt the heavy weight beginning to lift. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but with Wanda by your side, you could face whatever came next.

The living room was warm and cozy, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a gentle light around the space. Wanda had set up the couch with fluffy blankets and pillows, creating a perfect nest for the two of you. The scent of hot cocoa filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of popcorn. A small pile of candy lay within reach, a sweet treat for the evening.

You and Wanda were both in your pajamas, a comforting reminder of the intimate, safe space you shared. Wanda wore her favorite flannel pajamas, and you had on your softest, most comforting pair. As you both settled onto the couch, you nestled close to her, feeling her warmth and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Wanda wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "Here, darling," she said, handing you a steaming mug of hot cocoa topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings. "Extra whipped cream, just the way you like it."

You took the mug with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mommy."

She kissed the top of your head. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

The movie started, a light-hearted animated film that was one of your favorites. The colorful characters and cheerful music were a welcome distraction from the heaviness that had been weighing on you. As the story unfolded on the screen, you found yourself getting lost in the playful antics and heartwarming moments.

Wanda kept you close, her arm a constant source of comfort and security. She would occasionally reach for a handful of popcorn or a piece of candy, offering you some as well. You both giggled at the funny parts and sighed contentedly during the sweet scenes.

At one particularly touching moment in the movie, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. Wanda noticed immediately, her thumb gently brushing it away. "You okay, love?"

You nodded, a mix of emotions swelling in your chest. "Yeah, it's just... nice. Being here with you."

Wanda smiled, her eyes soft with love. "It’s nice being here with you too. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

As the movie continued, you felt yourself relaxing more and more. The warmth of the cocoa, the sweetness of the candy, and the comfort of Wanda’s presence made you feel safe and cherished. By the time the credits rolled, you were snuggled up against her, feeling a peacefulness that had eluded you for days.

Wanda turned to you, her expression tender. "Feeling a bit better?"

You nodded, leaning into her embrace. "Yeah, I am. Thank you, Mommy."

She hugged you tightly, her love wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "Always, my darling. I’m here for you, no matter what."

You stayed like that for a while, the remnants of the movie still playing softly in the background. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort and love. And in that moment, you knew you were not alone; you had Wanda, and together, you could face anything.

[angelicyoongie]

Abundance (XIX)

— summary: You never expected that you would end up adopting a hybrid, and if someone had told you that you would end up with seven? Well, you would have thought they were crazy. But here you are, with three different packs of hybrids that don't get along – but all want to stay with you. Yeah, it turns out crazy is an understatement.

— pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, smut — warnings/content: explicit sexual content! handjob (lol), mild sub!tae vibes — word count: 8.3k Part: I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X / XI / Find more chapters here!

Early access to chapter 20 and 21 can be found in the author’s note at the end!

You squirm, grumbling in your sleep, as a hot puff of air hits your throat. Twisting your head to the side does little to deter the ticklish sensation, something soft brushing along the slope of your neck.

The comfortable weight resting over your hips won’t allow you to flip over on your side to escape, but you’re too warm and cosy to bother opening your eyes to find out who’s keeping you trapped.

You’re being scented gently, almost timidly, and it slowly begins to lull you back to sleep.

The tender motion of someone nosing at your throat and nuzzling against your skin in the morning has become familiar to you by now, as it’s a certain bunny hybrid’s favourite way of waking you up.

The weight on your middle shifts, and you reach blindly for long soft ears as you mutter out a slurred, "-Jeongguk?" 

You get a short, petulant whine in response, a set of sharp canines nipping at your throat. 

"I’m not a bunny." 

The bite isn’t hard enough to break skin but it startles you all the same, any chance of falling back asleep washed away as you blearily open your eyes. You blink once, twice, as the halo of deep orange blocking your vision begins to shift into focus.

Taehyung’s messy hair is falling into his face from where he’s perched over your hips, his hands resting besides your shoulders, caging you in. He peers down at you with dark, unreadable eyes, fox ears flattened to his head. 

"Tae?" You murmur, drowsy and confused.

You stifle a yawn behind your hand, tiredly rubbing your eyes. It feels like you’ve awoken from a long coma, your body heavy with exhaustion.

The last week has been intense to say the least, all the work you missed by helping Seokjin and Jeongguk with their ruts practically being shoved down your throat the moment you stepped back inside your office. 

You’ve been pulling sixteen hour days for a week to catch up, only coming home to sleep and wash up before hurrying back to the firm. It’s been miserable and you’ve missed the boys terribly, but the hard work has thankfully paid off. All of your less important cases have been dealt with and now you have the entire weekend off to spend time with them. 

Taehyung's face twists at the sound of his name. His voice is meek, little more than a whimper, as he asks, "Are you disappointed that it’s me? If you’d rather have Jeongguk here, I can go get him."

The look Taehyung gives you makes your heart ache something fierce, the little distance between the two of you suddenly feeling much too far. 

"What? No, Taehyung, of course not!" You scramble to push yourself up on your elbows, shocked that he would ever think so.

You reach up to gently cup his face in your hand, smoothing your thumb across his cheek as you try to catch his gaze. Taehyung leans into your touch, a sad pout pulling on his lips as he noses against your wrist, breathing in your scent.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours before he looks away, his shoulders hunching with hesitation as he quietly asks, "Show me?"

It hits you then, just how inattentive you’ve been to the other boys after Seokjin and Jeongguk’s rut passed. You were intimate with one pack and then practically disappeared for a week. It’s no wonder Taehyung feels insecure, you haven’t been able to reassure him or his instincts that you want him just as much as the rest.

The realization feels like a punch to the gut.

You should’ve seeked him out sooner to make sure he was okay, to make sure he felt wanted, especially when the incident with Jeongguk and the weasel hybrids is still such a fresh wound.

"Oh, Tae," You let out a quiet breath, covering the guilt simmering under your skin with a tender smile. "I’ll show you as many times as you need me to."

You slowly guide his face towards your own, your fingers following the curve of his jaw until you have your thumb pressed against the mole on his lower lip.

Taehyung's ears do a curious twitch as you gently pull on the flesh, parting his mouth to make room for your own. His breath hitches as you lean in, a sweet little eager sound leaving his lips as you press a chaste peck against them. 

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed as you kiss him again, his cheeks flushing pink as you murmur a soft handsome into his skin. The fox hybrid’s tail swishes happily back and forth behind his back as you pepper light kisses everywhere you can reach, from his jaw to the tip of his nose.

Taehyung chases after your mouth when you draw back, capturing it in another kiss. He immediately tries to deepen it, tongue brushing against your lips in hopes that you’ll let him in. You willingly part them, licking into his mouth as the fox hybrid melts against your body, his stomach vibrating with low content purrs. 

You curl one hand around Taehyung’s neck, cupping the back of his head as the other settles on his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Taehyung lets out a soft moan as you kiss him with a little more intent, more passion, too distracted by your lips to notice how your eyes flutter open. He doesn’t seem to mind that you awkwardly throw a leg over his back, the duvet impeding your full range of motion.

The wet smack of your lips disconnecting as you pull back makes the simmering heat in your belly flare up. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow as he loses your touch, his rosy lips puckering subconsciously as he blindly seeks you out.

You can hear the telltale signs of a whine building in his throat but before he can get too upset, you tighten your hold around his body, using the leg you have over his hip as leverage to flip him over.

Taehyung stares up at you with big eyes as he finds himself pressed against the bed. His orange hair is splayed around him on your pillow, looking messy and wild after your wandering hands.

The pure surprise on his face makes you giggle.

You peck his cheek, pulling back just in time as your hands settle on his waist, fingertips lightly tickling his sides. Taehyung jerks forward, a burst of laughter leaving his mouth as his brain catches up with what your unrelenting hands are doing.

"Y/n, ah–!" He wheezes, squirming on the bed as he tries to escape from the light touches fluttering all over his torso. A mischievous grin settles on your mouth as you realize the leg around Taehyung’s waist is keeping him trapped, the fox hybrid having no other option but to endure your tickling.

Taehyung’s bright laughter fills your bedroom, the infectious sound making you join in as you watch him attempt to shimmy away from your wiggling fingers.

He squeaks as you find a particularly sensitive spot on his stomach, his tail whipping wildly against the bed. The array of snorts and cackles that Taehyung lets out is like music to your ears, the insecure and vulnerable look in his eye nowhere to be found as they scrunch up with laughter. 

There’s a new glow to the fox hybrid’s golden skin when he manages to capture one of your hands, trapping it against his chest. He flashes you a bright grin as you futilely try to yank it back, using the moment to catch his breath after your intense onslaught.

You pout, zeroing in on his exposed neck. As you shift your weight, ready to lean forward in hopes that tickling his neck will free your trapped fingers – Taehyung seems to read your mind. Something wild flickers in his gaze before he surges up, the sudden burst of energy throwing you off balance. In a flash, you find yourself back where you started, Taehyung once again hovering over you. 

Your attempts to wrestle him back down are useless, his limbs rooted in place even as you try with all of your might to flip him back over. Your struggling does little but get rid of the duvet, the thick blanket kicked aside as you squirm and huff under Taehyung’s body. His bare legs are flush against yours, warm, as the heat from his skin seeps into yours. 

"Tae," You whine, finally flopping down with an exhausted sigh as you realize you have no chance of overpowering him. 

"What?" Taehyung tilts his head, blinking down at you with faux innocence. His ears are standing straight with attention, twitching with every little sound you release. 

You give him an unimpressed look, eyeing how his tail lazily swishes behind his back in victory. 

Taehyung snickers, his expression melting into something a bit more smug – pleased, as he takes in your ruffled appearance. "You’re the one that wanted to play. It’s not my fault you’re a sore loser." 

You roll your eyes, suppressing the smile tugging at your lips.

"Well … You’re too strong! Frankly, it’s a little–" You raise your hips up in an attempt to flip him again, your brain stuttering as the movement causes you to bump against something hard, "–unfair?"  

Taehyung lets out a soft moan at the contact, eyelashes fluttering as he ducks his head. 

"Are you…?" You trail off. Your cheeks grow warm at Taehyung’s weak nod. 

"It’s my instincts," He admits in a low whine, arms flexing as he digs his fingers into the mattress. "I can’t help it. You were acting like prey, uh, squirming around like that. " 

You hum under your breath, taking a moment to collect your thoughts as you rub your hands up Taehyung’s arms, feeling his muscles strain under your touch.

You have to admit that Taehyung getting turned on by your little wrestling match is, well, hot. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him being affected by his instincts but the fox hybrid seems to think otherwise, his ears pulled back in shame. 

You simply refuse to allow him to think so lowly of himself.

"Can I touch you?" You ask. You slowly drag your hands up from Taehyung's arms to his chest, resting your palm above the harsh thud of his heart.

"Do you really want to?" Taehyung’s dark eyes shine with uncertainty as they meet yours. 

"Yes."

You keep your gaze locked on his, making sure your intent is clear as you raise your hips just enough to brush against his hard cock.

Taehyung’s arms wobble at the contact. A low keen leaves his mouth as his hips jerk automatically, chasing your body for more friction. 

Your circle one arm around his back, pushing between his shoulder blades to bring him closer. Taehyung scrambles to comply, making room for himself between your legs as you pull him into another kiss. He moans as your hand trails from his chest to his stomach, the light scrape of your nails making him shiver. 

The short second you pause as you reach the waistband of Taehyung’s shorts has him breaking away from the kiss, panting against your mouth as he whines out a desperate please. 

You steal a peek at his face, just to make sure he’s still okay as your hand slides under the elastic and the sight that greets you almost knocks the breath out of your chest.

Taehyung looks wrecked. His skin is flushed, burning hot, eyes glossy with want as he rasps out another plea for you to do more. 

His mouth falls open as you lightly rub the head of his leaking cock, hips buckling as you reach down to grasp him properly. The cramped angle is a little awkward but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind it, whines and moans filling the air between you as you pump his length.

The slide of your hand is loud, lewd, in the otherwise quiet room. You thumb at his leaking tip with every upstroke, collecting the steady dribbles of precome in your hand to make the glide easier.

Taehyung moves against your fist, whimpering, as your slick palm forms a hot and wet hole for him to thrust into. 

"S-so good, fuck," Taehyung growls as you tighten your hand, squeezing around his throbbing cock. He dives down to recapture your mouth, the kiss sloppy and hungry as he nibbles at your lips. 

You’re hot and flustered, dizzy almost, from having Taehyung so close. You can’t see his cock but you can feel it – how sensitive it is, how well it responds to every little thing you do. You swallow thickly at the steady stream of whimpers leaving Taehyung’s mouth, the fox hybrid following your lead so well it drives you a little crazy.  

When you stroke faster, Taehyung snaps his hips quicker. When you tighten your hold to massage the base of his cock, he slows down, whimpering but complying. He’s just so eager to please.

It makes your mind stray places it shouldn’t, heat pooling in your belly as you wonder just how obedient he can be for you. Lost in thought, your grip grows a little slack, and the steady pressure around Taehyung’s frantic thrusts disappears with it. 

The fox hybrid’s body stutters, a distressed chirp leaving his lips as he mouths over your cheek.

"Y-n, please, please–" 

"Sorry, Tae, I got you," You whisper.

You slide the hand on his shoulder to the nape of his neck, burying your fingers into the soft orange locks there. You tug lightly at his hair, increasing the speed and pressure around his cock.

Taehyung’s stomach tenses with every brush of your knuckles against his skin, his release so so close. 

Taehyung nudges your head back, biting into the delicate skin on your throat with more force than normal. He soothes it immediately with his tongue, the wet drag leaving a delicious sting behind. 

"You’re doing so well for me, Tae," You breathe, choking on a moan as he repeats the action with even more fervour. You can see his tail swishing madly behind his back, high keens filling the back of his throat with every stroke of your slicked fist.

Taehyung is trembling, his whole body taut as he strains to keep up with your hand.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, confused, as another flurry of choked pleads suddenly falls from his mouth. There’s nothing stopping him from coming, and yet he’s holding back – waiting – for something. 

Taking a leap of faith, you use the grip on his hair to angle his head up, bringing his ear close to your mouth. You press a sweet kiss to his earlobe, tightening your fist around his cock before you murmur out a quiet, "Good boy." 

Taehyung’s head snaps back with a gravelly, desperate moan as his body tips over the edge. His hips stutter as he grinds into your palm, shuddering as ropes of come spill from his cock. 

You relax your grip, gently stroking him through his release as another spurt drips past your fist, pooling on your stomach. The sensation makes your core throb.

You tamp down the urge to grind against the leg Taehyung has pressed against you, forcing your gaze to wander from his blissed out expression to the dull colour of your wall instead. This was about making Taehyung feel good, wanted – your own needs can wait. 

Taehyung’s head lolls back down as you release his cock, lightly trailing your fingertips along his shaft one last time before you let your hand fall away. His breaths are heavy, chest heaving as he tries to recover from his intense orgasm. 

You tuck Taehyung's face back into your neck, smoothing your fingers through his hair and scratching at the base of his ears as you wait for his breathing to slow down. He nuzzles into your skin, happy rumbles trickling from his chest as he noses against the marks he left there. 

"How do you feel?" You hum. 

"‘m feeling good," Taehyung mumbles against your throat, his bushy tail giving a few lazy flicks against your leg. 

Your smile quickly morphs into a grimace as you shift a little to your side, noticing how the wetness on your stomach has started to cool. You gently nudge at Taehyung’s waist, pressing a peck to the side of his head as you say, "Let me clean us up a little." 

Taehyung lets out a small whine in protest, but another nudge has him tipping sideways, rolling on to his side. You reach out for the tissues on your bedside table while Taehyung curls an arm over your chest, pulling himself flush against your body. 

Making quick work of the sticky substance on your skin, you turn to Taehyung, gently cleaning him up as best you can while he happily scents your shoulder. 

You bunch the tissues up, throwing them in what you hope was the thud of your trash bin.

Turning back to the fox hybrid plastered against your side, you bring a hand up to frame his face, kissing him softly. Taehyung melts pliantly into it, letting you keep the rhythm unhurried and tender as you both wind down. 

A few minutes pass of Taehyung being putty under your lips before he suddenly jerks back, eyes big as his ear twitches in the direction of your door. 

He listens to the footsteps coming up the stairs, a sheepish smile blooming on his red-bitten lips as he confesses, "I was supposed to come and wake you up for breakfast." 

You snort, shaking your head as Taehyung grabs your hands to haul you up. 

"You can blame it on me," You grin, smoothing out Taehyung’s sleepwear to the best of your abilities. You both really need to get cleaned up and changed before you see the rest of the boys for breakfast. 

Taehyung leans closer, his dark eyes sparkling with sincerity as he murmurs, "Thank you, Y/n." 

"Always," You smile.

Taehyung surges forward to plant a wet smack against your cheek, giggling at the startled sound you make as he scoots off the bed. He hurries to the door, throwing a bright grin your way and a rushed "hurry downstairs!" before the door clicks shut behind him. 

You throw a fond look at the closed door as you get out of bed, happy that you accomplished your goal. You know it'll take more to make sure Taehyung feels confident in your relationship, but you hope it’s a start on the path to make him feel secure and loved. 

Letting out a small sigh, you grab a change of clothes from your dresser. You have a lot to make up for, with both him and the rest of the guys.

You shuffle across the room, twisting the door open as you bend your neck, satisfying little pops cracking in your ears as you try to loosen up the tightness there. Your head is nearly touching your shoulder when you find yourself face to face with Yoongi, the cat hybrid tilting his own accordingly until he meets your eyes.

"What are you doing?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows, amused. 

You straighten your neck, rolling your shoulder back as you ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Stretching," You pout. 

"Why? Are you tense?" Yoongi steps closer, curling a slender hand behind your neck. He frowns as he gently digs his fingertips into your muscles, eyeing your expression as he skillfully massages the sore area.

You feel your eyes flutter as he reaches a particularly sore spot.

Maybe you strained your neck a little too much with Taehyung, but how could you not devour those pretty pink lips when they were right in front of you? 

"Ah," Yoongi muses, tilting your head, "I guess this is why." 

You suck in a breath as he presses his thumb against one of the fresh marks on your throat.

Yoongi lets out a displeased rumble as he studies the faint bruising blooming on your skin, tail flicking with annoyance behind his back. The grip around your neck tightens just a smidge, just enough to lock you in place as he leans in.

Yoongi regards you with narrowed eyes, pupils pulled into thin slits as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. It almost makes you feel like a scruffed kitten, like he caught you doing something naughty.

"I wanted to see what was taking the fox so long, but–" Yoongi’s nostrils flare as he sniffs around your neck, a low hiss sounding under his breath as he moves lower, a particularly potent smell lingering near your stomach.

"Mystery solved, I suppose." 

Yoongi’s lip curls as he draws back, ears falling flat against his head. He looks miffed at the discovery of what you and Taehyung were up to, but you can tell that’s not all there is to it. There’s a layer of hurt there too, a hint of sadness in the heavy breath he lets out. 

You twist a hand into the soft knit Yoongi’s wearing, tugging at it.

Yoongi’s tail swishes at the contact, his mouth forming a soft pout. The fingers on the back of your neck twitch, like he isn’t sure he should keep holding on to you or not.

"Talk to me?" You ask softly, dragging him a step closer.

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath, his posture slumping as he instinctively leans towards your warmth. 

"What?" You whisper.

Yoongi looks away, words a little jumbled as he mumbles, "I missed you." 

"Yoongi..." You breathe, reaching out to cradle his face.

You really didn’t expect to have your heart crushed twice in one morning.

You pull him into a gentle kiss, smiling against Yoongi’s lips as he holds you still, the steady grip on your neck not letting you move an inch. It’s slow and sweet, the way he parts your lips, slotting them perfectly against his own. 

You let your hand explore the strong curve of his jaw, the softness of his pale cheeks, everything you didn’t have time to map out the first time you kissed.

When you eventually have to lean back to breathe, you ghost your lips over Yoongi’s, hoping he can feel the sincerity in your words as you say, "I missed you too, I really did."

"I’m sorry I haven’t been around much this week. Work has been rough, but I shouldn’t have let that come in the way of us spending time together. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect right away, but I am going to try my best to balance everything a little better." 

"Y/n," Yoongi shakes his head with a small sigh, "You’re doing good." 

He presses a quick peck to your lips, levelling you with a look as your mouth purses in silent protest. 

"You’re working hard to house and feed us, and yeah, sure, it sucks that you can’t be at home as much as we’d like, but we understand. No one else has ever put as much effort as you are into making sure we’re happy and comfortable, so don’t worry too much about us, okay? Just, focus on yourself first. That’s all we ask." 

You melt into Yoongi’s embrace as he wraps his arms around you, muttering out a wobbly okay.

He holds you securely against his chest, tucking his nose into your hair to breathe in your calming scent. Yoongi never thought he would experience a scent that soothes him as much as Jimin’s, that smells like home – but yours do. The thought alone is enough to calm down the jittery edge that’s been clinging to his instincts for the past week, low purrs rumbling in his chest.

You rub your face into Yoongi’s sweater, discreetly trying to wipe away the tears prickling in your eyes. You will do better, you’re going to stand by your promise – but still, it’s comforting to hear that they don’t hate you for spending so much time away from home recently.

"You feeling okay?" Yoongi slowly releases his hold, stepping back to look you in the eye. 

"I’m fine," You murmur, clearing your throat of the thickness lingering there.

Yoongi hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"Go get ready then, I’m sure the others are dying to see you." 

"Y/n, where should I put this?"

You glance up, squinting against the sun to make out Namjoon’s outline through the rays of light.

"Anywhere will do, Joon. Thanks for grabbing it for me," You nod in the direction of the other garden tools, brushing the dirt off your hands as you flash him a grateful smile. 

"My pleasure," Namjoon grins, tail swinging happily behind his back. 

You watch as he turns, blocking the light momentarily as he hefts the bag of soil more securely over his shoulder, biceps straining under the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Judging by how buff Namjoon looks, it seems that the workouts they’ve been trying to rope you into doing with them have been paying off, the sight of a particularly prominent vein in his arm causing your mouth to run dry. 

You swallow thickly as the wolf hybrid places the bag on the ground with a soft grunt, the flowers in front of you long forgotten.

"Be careful, Y/n-ie, otherwise you’ll catch flies." 

Blinking, you quickly avert your gaze from Namjoon’s bulging muscles, whipping around to stare at Hoseok. 

"W-what?" 

The dog hybrid gives you a knowing look from where he’s kneeling on the ground next to you. There’s a teasing smirk adorning his lips, his golden tail wagging with newfound interest.

"Shut up," You murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own. You fumble for the handheld shovel on the ground as Namjoon walks over, flustered that Hoseok caught you ogling his pack alpha. 

The wolf hybrid plops down on your other side, ears perked as Hoseok lets out a low snort.

"What’s up?" 

You pointedly do not look at the sculpted, tanned arm that reaches out for the hand rake in front of you, throwing Hoseok a narrowed gaze as he cheerfully says, "Nothing much. Y/n was just really enjoying the view." 

Namjoon makes a confused sound, the empty flower bed you’re sitting in front of not offering much besides the large bay windows looking into the living room. He tilts his head back, watching the sparse fluffy clouds drift by, the sun on his back wrapping around him like a warm hug.

"The sky does look pretty today," Namjoon agrees, oblivious to the death glare you’re giving his packmate.

"Sure does!" Hoseok chirps. 

His tail hits the grass with quick thuds, clearly enjoying the flustered state he’s put you in. Hoseok’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he continues, "Y/n, I’m sure Joonie would love to hear what–" 

"Wow, look at these pretty flowers!" You interrupt him, face growing warm under the smug smile you get in return. You busy yourself with dragging the cluster of nursery plants closer, avoiding Hoseok’s gaze as you push the small shovel to his chest.

"We should get them settled into their new home while the sun is still out, don’t you think?" 

The reminder seems to snap Namjoon out of his cloud watching, the wolf hybrid letting out a startled, "Oh, right!" as he turns back to the plants. He’s too busy trying to figure out how to use the garden rake to notice the fond looks you and Hoseok send his way.

You bite your lip, stifling a giggle, as you wonder how you ever could’ve thought of Namjoon as intimidating. It’s hard to picture the calculating gaze and imposing presence you felt at the shelter when the hybrid in front of you is just so – cute.

Namjoon is hunched over the bed, making himself small in front of the delicate flowers as he attempts to crumble the soil for them. A wrinkle appears between his brows as the tool only grazes over the surface, his grey ears twisting back in confusion when it doesn’t work.

Gently, you reach out to take Namjoon’s hand in yours, turning the rake over in his grip. The wolf hybrid perks up when he once again tries to drag it over the hard soil, the tines actually digging into the ground this time. Namjoon’s tail begins to wag as he rakes the soil, a soft look of wonder on his face as old, buried roots come to the surface. 

You know the boys haven’t had it easy in the past, but you really hope that the new experiences they make with you can lessen that hurt over time. You really haven’t met anyone – human or hybrid – who are as good as they are, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try your best to make them happy. And if gardening can do that for Namjoon, then you’re willing to convert your bedroom into a greenhouse if that’s what it takes. 

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the pure joy shining on Namjoon’s face as he fluffs up the soil, his fingertips stained with dirt. You can’t help but lean in, chest tight with love as you plant a kiss on his cheek. 

"Thank you for helping me," You smile, heart fluttering as he sends you a bright grin in return, dimples on full display. 

"Of course," Namjoon preens, chest puffing out as he digs into the soil with even more energy than before. 

A low whine has you glancing to your left, Hoseok giving you his best pout as he tilts his head, angling his cheek in your direction.

The intense scenting and kissing session you received before breakfast honestly left you in a bit of a drunken daze, your mind scrambled after trying to keep up with five needy hybrids. You know that’s why Hoseok refused to let up on his teasing before, it isn’t often he can do so without you returning the favour, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let him get away with it now that the spring air has started to clear your head. 

You send him a puzzled look, feigning ignorance as you mouth a confused 'what?'

Hoseok stares at you, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events, as you turn back to the flowerbed with a small shrug.

You have to tamper down a smug smile of your own when Hoseok seems to catch up to what you’re doing, whiney grumbles being muttered under his breath as he realizes you’re ignoring him in retaliation for earlier. You’re not cruel, it’s not like you can deny them kisses for very long, you’re just, hm, saving it, as reward for when he finishes digging up his part of the bed.

You watch him begin to shovel out of the corner of your eye, tuning out his weak complaints as you focus on your own patch. Namjoon’s excitement is infectious and you honestly can’t wait to see how the garden is going to look once you’re done with it. The old owners didn’t care for it much, letting most of the plants rot and wilt away, but you don’t mind that too much. The new garden is going to be something you’ve created together with the boys, and it’s going to be so much more satisfying seeing the space blossom and thrive the more love you collectively pour into it. 

"This is such a mess," Hoseok sighs. He eyes the flowerbed distastefully as he flips over another spot of old dirt. 

"Hmm," You lean back, tapping your shovel against the soil as you pretend to think, "I wonder what made it so messy? Surely it couldn’t have been because of two grown hybrids stomping around in it, trying to spy–" 

"Tae!" Namjoon suddenly calls out, neck splotched pink with embarrassment. 

A few slow seconds pass with no reply, Taehyung nowhere to be seen. Just as you’re about to nudge Namjoon to tease him for trying to divert your attention, you hear the sound of pattering feet rushing over the grass, a series of high pitched barks calling out from the other side of the garden.

You watch, stunned, as a copper fox runs straight into Namjoon’s arms, squirming around in his lap until the wolf hybrid gently hugs it to his chest. It yips as if asking him to play, giving his jaw a few quick licks while it rubs his snout all over Namjoon’s neck.

"Not right now," The wolf hybrid shakes his head, amused, as he lovingly pets the thick, orange fur. 

The fox – Taehyung, your mind unhelpfully supplies a little late – gives a low snort, clearly unhappy that his alpha won’t indulge him right away.

His fox form is just as pretty as you remember. Taehyung has a long rich orange fur that fades into white near his stomach, his bushy tail sprinkled with black hairs that make the copper look even more vibrant. His pointed ears and small legs are dipped in black, his body agile and nimble as he somehow manages to slip out of Namjoon’s strong hold like it’s nothing. 

You hold your breath Taehyung as immediately scurries over to you, tail swishing as he flops down on the available patch of grass between your knees and the flower bed. He rolls to his back, looking more like a dog than a fox as he gives you a little wiggle, waiting to be pet. 

"Like this?" You ask, carefully burying your hand in the soft fur on his belly. Taehyung seems pleased as you begin to run your fingers through the silky hairs, low purrs vibrating in his stomach as you marvel at his pretty fur. 

"Look at our handsome boy," Hoseok coos. He reaches out to rub the narrow space between Taehyung’s fox ears, laughing as one of his hind-legs twitches in response. 

Taehyung looks blissed out from the attention, panting happily as you rub his stomach. You haven’t seen this side of the fox hybrid since the first time at the shelter, and it warms your heart that he finally feels comfortable enough to shift and let go even with the other packs around. 

You scratch Taehyung’s chin, grinning as you playfully say, "Do you know your hyungs are trying to use your cute little face as a distraction for ruining our flowerbed?"

Namjoon smiles sheepishly as the fox gives you a high, confirming yip in return. 

"It’s working, so I guess I can’t be too mad about it," You sigh, shaking your head in amused exasperation. 

You keep petting Taehyung for another minute until he seems to grow bored of it, his attention span a bit more fleeting in his shifted form. He rolls back over on his stomach, clambering up on his legs before he shakes his fur out. You’re not even sure if that’s something foxes do, or if he’s just picked it up from Hoseok and Namjoon over time. 

The fox walks a few laps back and forth, following the paved border along the bed as he sniffs at the freshly turned dirt. Hoseok notices the longing glances his packmate sends the disturbed soil, aware of his own instincts begging him to shift to dig around in it. 

He pats the ground to make Taehyung rush over to him, running a soothing hand over his spine as he gestures to the spot he abandoned his shovel. "There’s this root I can’t get up, it’s buried pretty deep, do you think you can get it for me?" 

You can practically see Taehyung’s entire body immediately honing in on the patch Hoseok pointed to, his tail swishing behind him in unbridled excitement. His ears are perked, focused, as he crouches low, belly to the ground.

His body tenses before he suddenly rushes forward, pouncing on the spot of dirt. He starts eagerly digging at the ground, scraping away the layers of soil surrounding the root in a few seconds. Taehyung has the entire thing uncovered in no time, his pointed snout shooting down to gnaw at what must’ve been roots from an old tree. His sharp teeth glint in the sun as he excitedly attacks the wood. A cracking sound fills the air as he chomps down on it, Taehyung's body going taut as he leans back, using his weight to pull it up. 

For a second the fox hybrid looks frozen, the root giving him more resistance than anticipated, but then it just gives – and Taehyung stumbles back, pulling out a root as thick as your arm from the dirt. 

"Well done, Tae," Namjoon beams, his chest rumbling with pride.

You cheer alongside his packmates, amazed that Taehyung managed to get rid of it that quickly. You shudder to think how many hours you would’ve been hacking away at it if you had to remove it yourself. 

Taehyung drops the root, yipping excitedly as he jumps around in the soil. He lets you all get in a few pets and a smooch between his furry ears as thanks before he shoots off, impatient to explore the rest of the garden. 

Smiling, you watch him scurry off, a streak of orange disappearing across the garden and into the thicker foliage near the back fence. Taehyung saved you all a lot of work, so now that the flowerbed is tended to and clear of anything that might impede the growth of the new plants, you can finally add in the fresh soil.

"Hobi?" The dog hybrid’s head whips around as you call his name, eyes hopeful.

"Can you help me with that bag of soil? I can’t lift it on my own."

You dust your hands, ready to rise up on your feet when Hoseok jumps up, gently pressing on your shoulder to make you stay seated on the ground.

"I’ll get it!" 

"Wait, it’s heavy–"  You turn around, warning tapering off as you watch the dog hybrid effortlessly heft the bag up in his arms.

Stunned, you watch as Hoseok carries it over without problem, no trace of a struggle visible on his face. He doesn’t make a sound as he picks up Namjoon’s rake, slashing the bag open before he spreads the soil as evenly as possible over the bed. 

Not even Namjoon, with his prominent muscles, looked this unbothered when he carried the bag for you earlier. You could tell he at least felt the weight of it on his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem like Hoseok registers it at all. You know that hybrids, regardless of their species, are genetically modified to be stronger than humans – but even so, the sight of Hoseok lifting a fifty litre bag of soil like it’s as light as a feather leaves you dumbstruck. There’s clearly a lot you still don’t know about the boys, and you have no clue how Hoseok has managed to hide that amount of strength away in his lithe build. 

"That’s, um, thank you," You stare up at Hoseok, a little lost, as he crumples up the empty plastic. 

"No problem!" He grins, ears perked as he resumes his spot. "Can I have a kiss now, too?" 

"Hmm, well, you did help, so …" You kiss the cheek that Hoseok keenly presents to you with a soft giggle, making sure to add another peck to the corner of his mouth in apology for teasing him earlier. 

Hoseok’s small dimples are carved into his cheeks when you pull back, the heart shaped smile turning your insides to mush.

He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, subtly brushing his wrist against your neck as he pulls back, making sure his happy scent lingers on your skin. Hoseok knows all too well that you can’t smell it or find comfort in it like the others, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying. 

"Y/n, where does this go?" Namjoon holds up a budding flower, the faintest hints of purple showing through the closed petals. 

"Anywhere you think it’ll look nice," You smile. "I picked out plants and flowers that all thrive in the shade, so the placement shouldn't matter too much." 

Namjoon lights up at that, his grey tail beating up a storm behind his back as he launches into describing where he thinks each plant would look best. He must’ve been thinking deeply about it while he was turning over the old soil. Seeing how enthused he looks as he places them all out, you wonder if he would enjoy learning more about it - maybe it would be possible to sign him up for a flower arranging course in town? Or a few lessons online? You’re definitely going to mention a few options to him later. 

"That looks pretty, Joonie," Hoseok compliments as his pack alpha finishes his positioning, small clusters of colourful flowers divided up between a variety of green plants. 

You echo his sentiment, already picturing just how lush and beautiful the flowerbed is going to look once everything sprouts and grows. 

"Thank you," Namjoon’s shy gratitude is filled to the brim with pride, the wolf hybrid beaming as he begins to dig the spot where the first flower will go. 

You hunker down in front of your own designated area, digging up the patches Namjoon marked for each new plant. There’s something tranquil about the fresh soil slipping through your fingers as you carefully pat down the dirt around the new flowers, a gentle calm settling over you as you listen to the welcoming tune of a faint birdsong in the distance.

You joke around with Namjoon and Hoseok as you plant the new flowers, happily listening to the boys retell what they’ve been up to for the past week. Namjoon in particular has taken to exploring the neighbourhood and the surrounding areas more, though you can’t quite figure out why he seems so bashful to admit it.

Before you can even think to ask, you’re interrupted by Taehyung running back over for more pets, the fox hybrid looking like he’s been rolling around in any available patches of dirt he’s come across. You can only watch, amused, as he’s gently scolded by Hoseok for getting so dirty, his whines only growing when Namjoon joins in too. 

"Hey!" Namjoon sputters as Taehyung sneezes him in the face, showing off his displeasure before he scampers off in the direction of the backdoor. 

Hoseok barks out a laugh at Taehyung’s cheeky retort and you have to cover your face as your snort, muffling the sound to the best of your abilities. You pretend you don’t see the narrowed look Namjoon gives you as he wipes his face, humming as you let your attention drift to the other boys hanging around the garden. 

Seokjin and Jeongguk are huddled near some bushes by the fence at the back, arguing loudly about what the correct type is. You just wanted to know if it would flower, but based on how long they’ve been slapping each other’s necks, you don’t think you’ll get a definite answer to that today.

You roll your eyes as Jeongguk wrestles Seokjin into a headlock, the bunny hybrid grinning victoriously as Seokjin lightly punches his stomach in retaliation.

Jeongguk’s smile falters as he glances up, meeting Jimin’s gaze from beneath the big tree in the middle of the garden. You watch as the hand Jimin was carding through his tail jerks, a small hiss carrying over the grass as he accidentally tugs on the delicate hairs.

Blushing, Jeongguk averts his eyes, loosening his hold on Seokjin in order to make the alpha jump back up, blocking Jimin from view as he squeaks about his packmate being a brat. 

This new thing between Jeongguk and Jimin is certainly interesting, to say the least. It doesn’t seem like the others have caught on to the strange tension that’s been growing between them ever since that night you found them huddled up on the couch together, limbs and tails intertwined. It has clearly left things between them awkward though, even if you’re not sure why. They seemed cosy enough when you stumbled across them and the friendships between the packs have been improving, but perhaps they need a bit more time to accept the sudden shift between them. 

Your gaze falls to Yoongi as he yawns, his dark eyes squinting disapprovingly up at the shade that has fallen over his resting spot. You were surprised when you first came outside to find the cat hybrid in his shifted form, a purring Yoongi wrapping himself between your legs for some pets before he eventually went off to take a nap somewhere hidden from view. He’s been steadily moving his way around the yard as you’ve been working, finding new spots to rest undisturbed.

Now though, you hold back a coo as the fluffy black cat slowly gets to his feet, stretching out his long body before he moves a little further into the garden, plopping down in the first patch of sunlight he finds. He curls into a little ball, delicately tucking his tail under his chin to bask in the pleasant spring warmth. 

You watch as one of Yoongi’s ears twitches, twisting towards the house, before you even manage to notice Taehyung yourself; the fox hybrid back in his human form as he quietly moves across the garden.

Taehyung approaches Yoongi’s resting figure carefully, eyes wide with wonder as he takes in his shifted form for the first time. He stops in front of Yoongi, orange tail swishing with interest behind his back as he slowly sinks to his knees.

You can barely make out one of Yoongi’s eyes cracking open to watch him, tail flicking with what you can only assume is annoyance at having his fifth nap interrupted.

Taehyung’s hands are folded in his lap, voice soft as he reverently says, "Hyung, your fur is so pretty." 

Yoongi watches Taehyung silently, pinning the younger hybrid under his gaze. He looks at him without blinking and you find yourself holding your breath, mirroring Taehyung subconsciously as the cat hybrid thinks - considers something. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting – for Yoongi to hiss maybe, definitely for him to just get up and leave – but he does, well, neither.

After a few tense seconds that feel horribly long, Yoongi simply just slides his eye shut, his tail stilling under his chin as he lets a gentle mrrp fill the silence between them.

"Are you sure?" Taehyung gasps, eyes lighting up as he reaches out, hand hovering over Yoongi’s back for a final confirmation. 

"Oh," You whisper, just as Hoseok sucks in a low breath behind your back. The scene in front of you has captured the attention of everyone in the garden, five pairs of curious eyes watching the unusual interaction unfold. 

Yoongi lets out another soft sound, something you can only describe as akin to a stuttered purr, to let Taehyung know it’s okay to touch him. To pet him. 

Taehyung looks enthralled as he lightly strokes Yoongi’s silky fur, fingertips barely even grazing the cat hybrid at the first few touches. He grows bolder when Yoongi repositions his head to get more comfortable, petting the alpha with a little more intent as he drags his fingers from the top of Yoongi’s head down to his lower back.

He just looks so happy, so content, as he continues to pet Yoongi to his heart’s desire. 

The sight truly makes you a little emotional. With how the boys acted when they got to the house, there was a point where something like this seemed more like a distant, unattainable dream than a possible future. Even though they eventually agreed to get along, there was never a promise of friendship, or closeness. There was never anything that alluded to this. 

You can hear Hoseok’s tail wagging at the sight, matching the grey blur of his pack alpha's in front of you. Seokjin and Jeongguk have calmed down too, the bunny hybrid resting his chin over Seokjin’s shoulder as he watches Taehyung and Yoongi with wide eyes.

They all seem pleased, at ease, to watch Taehyung take another step towards befriending Yoongi. Like it was just a matter of time before someone took the leap to start bonding between packs. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Jimin is silently seething beneath the tree, his dark eyes glued to Taehyung’s hand as it touches Yoongi over and over, and over again.

It's his expression that trips you up the most, the intensity there all too reminiscent of the look you saw him sporting earlier. You noticed it as they all rushed to greet you after you came down for breakfast – the way Jimin's face soured as he picked up traces of both Yoongi and Taehyung's scent on your body. He kept throwing odd looks their way, a permanent scowl on his face as he bit into his toast.

His displeasure was clear as day when Taehyung had reached for something across Yoongi's plate, their arms brushing together. The thing was though, Jimin wasn't watching Yoongi. During breakfast, he kept staring Taehyung down, lip curling whenever the fox hybrid touched someone.

You didn't recognize it then, but you do now. You can see it in the way Jimin’s tabby ears are pulled flat against his hair, strained hands clutching on to his fluffed up tail in what looks to be a painful manner. His eyes keep tracking Taehyung as he touches Yoongi, never wavering anywhere else.

It's jealousy, and it's practically rolling off him in waves.

The thing that confuses you the most however, is that while Jimin looks green with envy, you can't quite tell what's actually upsetting him more – the fact that Yoongi is allowing Taehyung to pet him, or that perhaps a tiny part of him wishes that he was the one getting touched by Taehyung.

a/n: Chapters 20 & 21 of "Abundance" are available on ko-fi! You can find them here: https://ko-fi.com/s/e95005a91d

so uhm ... hiii? i know it’s been a very long time since the last abundance update (18 months to be exact *cough*) but better late than never, right? it felt really weird returning to abundance after this long. even though i tried my best to recapture the old ‘feel’ of abundance, i still think i have some ways to go before i get fully used to writing this story again! i hope you guys can excuse any scenes that may feel a bit stilted or off while i get to know my characters again. but all of that aside – i’m so happy to be back. i really missed this story and my hybrid boys, and i missed you guys as well. 

how have you all been? did you enjoy the new chapter? please come talk to me in the comments (& remember to reblog, that helps me out a lot)!!

the next chapter will be posted in around three weeks time, but if you can’t wait then you can always read it early on my ko-fi! i would really appreciate the support!! 💖

see you all soon, stay safe! <3

[vienssunshine]

The dialogues you write for maki are so goddamn heavenly, please, what is it like when her girl squirts on her glasses (bonus if in the next morning, everyone in the dormitory heard them)? 😣🙏

Just Can't Focus

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader nsfw: semi-public sex, cunnilingus, squirting word count: 1.8k author’s note: thank you so much for the request! you're so sweet!! i had a lot of fun adapting your request into a fic, hope you enjoy! also, maki looked so good in the latest episode. i need her... description: something about watching you train gets maki so riled up.

The day has been long. 

Nothing slows down time quite like having to hold a plank, and Gojo, who’s in charge of training you and your peers today, has been making the hours crawl by with countless strength training exercises. Your core is aching and your legs feel like they’re about to give out, which is why it feels a blessing when your teacher gets a phone call that pulls him away into a meeting with the higher-ups.

“Pair up and find a place around campus to practice sparring while I’m gone,” Gojo instructs, “We’ll meet back up in 30. Don’t forget to have fun!” He waves as he heads towards the school, leaving you and the other exhausted students alone in the field.

Nobara turns her head to you, about to speak, when an arm interlocks with yours. You look to your side to see that Maki has claimed you as her partner.

“Maki!” Nobara huffs, “I wanted to spar with her.”

Maki shrugs. “Be quicker then.” 

Nobara’s face darkens with a scowl and you hurry to resolve the conflict. “I’ll spar with you next time,” you tell Nobara, “Promise.”

“You better.” She crosses her arms and walks towards the other sorcerers, annoyed she’ll have to partner up with either idiot #1 or idiot #2 (Yuuji or Megumi). 

“Let’s go find a spot,” Maki says, though she begins pulling you off towards a forest nearby, seemingly already having a place in mind. 

Soon you’re past the tree line, and before you can get a word out about the sparring drill, your back is pressed up against a tree and Maki’s lips are on yours. 

It catches you by surprise—Maki tends to be unpredictable, a reason why it’s hard for you to beat her in a match—but it’s instinctive how you fall into the rhythm of her lips, melting into her touch as you kiss her back. Her leg nestles between yours and her strong hands land on your sides, brushing along the curve of your waist as she leans into you. 

“Need you…now,” she mumbles in between kisses, the rasp of her voice confessing desperation. Even though you and Maki have been a thing for a while now, she knows how to mask her true feelings, so until she had you pinned against a tree, you didn’t have a clue that such a need was building up in her all afternoon. 

“Yeah?” you say, resting your arms atop her built shoulders, pulling her closer. “Can’t wait until after training?”

Maki tugs off her uniform jacket, leaving her in the white long sleeve she wears under her uniform, and lays it on the grass by your feet. “No, so come sit down.”

Her mouth is inseparable from yours as she helps lower your body down onto her jacket, and the moment you’re sitting down, she’s kneeled between your thighs, reaching up past your skirt to dip her fingers into the waistband of your black tights. 

“Lift up your hips for me, pretty,” she murmurs against your lips. You listen, and she pulls your tights off, and then your underwear. It’s a little strange, how you’re half-naked in one of the school’s forests, but you have a hard time caring when Maki hooks her arms underneath your thighs and brings her mouth to your cunt.

“Already so wet for me,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvis, “Have you been thinking about me too?”

“Maybe,” you say, though the evidence speaks for itself. How could you not? For the entirety of the strength training session, all you could notice was Maki. With the way her defined muscles flexed as she worked through Gojo’s ceaseless exercises, it was impossible not to. You had to look over and take in how the effort contorted her elegant features, had to hear how it sharpened her breath. And every single time you glanced over to her, without fail, she was already looking at you.

“You were just as distracted,” you say, trying to keep still despite the sensation of her hot breath fanning against your cunt. “You really should be paying attention during training.”

She smirks. “I think it’ll be easier to focus after I have you cum on my tongue.”

Her warm mouth connects with your folds, forcing a choked gasp from your throat. You rock your hips back and away, caught off guard at how quickly sharp pleasure cuts through your insides, but Maki’s strong arms keep you locked in place. Her eyes flutter shut at the contact and she deeply inhales, finally gratified after wanting to be with you like this all afternoon.

Your head lolls to the side when she begins to move, licking long stripes up from your hole to your clit with a flat tongue. Pulling up the fabric of your skirt gives you an unobstructed view and you watch, eyes lidded, as she pushes her mouth further into your cunt, just unable to get enough. Then she pushes her palms gently against your thighs, opening yourself up further to her. You allow it, legs falling open, and lean back against the tree behind you.

“There we go,” she says, “Relax for me, okay?” 

You realize why when a finger circles the outside of your hole. Maki’s tongue continues to bathe your clit with wet swipes of her tongue, only increasing the amount of slick coating your opening. She uses this lubrication to shallowly slip the tip of her finger in and out of you, stimulating the tight ring of muscle circling your entrance. Then, she lengthens her movements, pushing in deeper with every thrust of her fingers. Your breath comes out shaky. “Fuck…Maki…”

She begins to move her finger inside of you, pushing it up against your walls in a way that has heat rushing to your lower stomach. Your eyes flutter shut and each pump of her finger pushes a soft moan from your lips.

“If you wanted to make it up to me for being such a distraction all afternoon, those pretty noises of yours are doing the job,” Maki says.

She adds another finger, which only makes you call out her name once more in that breathy voice of yours she adores. The pressure is immense, especially with her fingers being so strong and precise. 

“It’s…so much-” you say, pressing your eyebrows together. You don’t think you’ve had Maki eat you out and finger you at the same time before; the sensation is overwhelming. Every harsh thrust of her fingers is complemented by a sweet lick on your clit, a two-front war that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. Any attempt at escaping the pleasure is nonexistent with Maki’s hold on you, and soon your stomach is twisting, like a violent undercurrent is ripping through your lower half. It’s new, and more intense than you’ve experienced before. 

“Maki I…I feel weird…” you say, squirming. 

“You’re doing great, pretty girl,” Maki responds before diving her tongue into your folds once more.

“I’m serious…Maki…I don’t know…” Your fingers tighten in the grass around you.

“Does it feel good?” Maki asks.

“Feels…s’good,” you respond.

“Then relax, enjoy it.” 

You want to listen to her, you really do, but there’s a hesitant voice in your head, one telling you that if you give in to the pleasure, you’ll be giving in completely. You’re just so full; there’s so much pent-up energy in your body that’s begging to be released. But the more she touches you, the more encouragement and praise leaving her mouth, the less power you have over the force building up inside your core. 

“I feel like I’m gonna…” 

She curls her fingers inside you, pressing against your sweet spot with a force that has your body shaking and seconds away from release.

“Fuck—Maki—m’gonna—“

You’re unprepared when your orgasm hits you, and because it hits you hard, you’re helpless when fluid rushes out of you at the intense sensation. You throw your head back, pleasure rolling through your lower half and being expelled from your body. Unaffected, Maki continues to finger fuck you, only prolonging the ruthless orgasm she’s sending through your body.

“Attagirl,” Maki says, grinning. 

You’re swearing, or moaning, maybe a mixture of both, as the climax pummels your poor body, and you hold onto Maki’s arms for dear life, fingers digging into the fabric of her white long sleeve.

When her movements slow, coaxing you back into reality, the haze washes off and you realize that you’ve squirted for the first time–all over Maki’s face.

You sit up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—fuck, your glasses.”

She cuts you off. “It’s hot, pretty. Don’t apologize for something you don’t have to, mkay?” She takes her glasses from her face and rubs the liquid coating them off on her jacket beneath you. 

“I’ve just…that’s never happened before,” you say, still reeling from the sensation.

“Makin’ me feel special,” she says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, she stands, offering you her hand. “Are you okay to walk? Everyone should be regrouping by now. I think if we stay any longer, I’ll want to try to make that happen again.”

“Uh…yeah, let’s go,” you say, grabbing onto it and letting her help you up. You’re still grappling with what just happened; you didn’t even know that could happen. 

Dazed, you find your underwear on the sleeve of Maki’s jacket, uncrumple it, and pull it back up on you.

“Thanks for that,” Maki says, threading her hand into yours for the rest of the walk out of the forest.

You and Maki are the last to join the group. Aside from Gojo, who’s meeting must’ve run long. Guess training ends early today.  

As you walk up to the rest of the sorcerers, Yuuji tilts his head and then points at Maki, “Did you lose your jacket?” 

Your eyes widen as you realize that Maki isn’t wearing it, she’s still in her button-up. Though, it’s not like she could put it back on, your fluids had soaked the material. “I took it off when we were sparring. Guess I forgot it,” she responds.

“Is that why you took off your tights too?” Panda asks, pointing to your bare legs. Heat rushes to your face.

Maki scowls. “Last chance to mind your own or I’ll be your sparring partner next time.” 

“Alright! Okay!” The rest of them hurry off but fail to do a good job pretending they aren’t whispering about the two of you.

“I’ll go grab our clothes and put them in the wash, so you go take a break okay?” She grins. “I hope I didn’t work you too hard.”

“How considerate,” you tease, “But I would prefer it if you came back to my room after doing the laundry. Maybe then you’ll be able to tire me out.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

[hausofwoo]

strapped | park seonghwa

pairing: seonghwa x afab reader

word count: 612

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, literally just a pwp blurb, seonghwa sucking a strap on, sub!seonghwa, begging, finger sucking, hair pulling, use of petname (sweetheart)

author's note: i had the thought of seonghwa sucking a strap-on pop into my head and i had to write it out asap. very short but juicy! there will be plenty more sub!seonghwa fics from me but here's just a little taste....

seonghwa is so desperate to please you.

he sits on his knees on your shared bedroom floor, hands tied behind his back and head tilted back, looking up at you standing over him. his skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat and his hair is a ruffled mess from all your pulling and tugging. he’s free of all of his clothing, but his erection throbs in need.

“please,” seonghwa begs. “i’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me.”

“not yet, sweetheart,” you say, running your fingertips along the side of his jaw. his eyes are fixated on you with pupils completely blown. you place your fingers on his soft lips, prompting him to immediately open and take them in his mouth. he runs his tongue along your digits before sucking on them, eye contact persisting. you replace your two fingers with your thumb, prying open his mouth so he can take your strap.

“do something for me first, baby,” you say, watching as he lays his tongue flat for you. “suck.”

you guide your strap’s tip to his mouth, and he takes it eagerly. his plump lips enclose around the tip and gradually takes the length. he reaches the base of the strap, deep-throating it. he hums in satisfaction. he continues to bob up and down, sucking. he’s making a fucking mess, with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. he doesn’t seem to care anyway, with his muffled moans filling up the room.

he pulls off the strap completely, a string of saliva still connecting to his lips. he drags his tongue on the underside, making his way back to the tip before taking it into his mouth again.

yeah, maybe getting your strap sucked doesn’t physically stimulate anything for you, but seonghwa loves putting on a show for you. he loves to be degraded by you, to feel pathetic under your touch. something completely takes over him, and all he can do is follow your every order. he’s like a puppy; just so fucking eager. you love it too, being able to control what he does. it comes so naturally for you to push him around, and it only makes it ten times hotter when you notice it makes him twitch.

you grip his hair, pushing his mouth as far down on the strap he can go. his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud moan onto the toy. you yank him back off, watching his half-lidded gaze up at you as spit spills out of his swollen red lips. the saliva drops onto his crotch, right on the tip of his aching cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, knitting his eyebrows together. his hisses, partly from pain, and the other part from pleasure. this whole time, during the teasing and the foreplay and now while giving your strap head, he’s been painfully hard. you haven’t touched him once, and it’s starting to feel excruciating. he lifts his hips, thrusting his leaking cock into the air, searching for some sort of stimulation. he squirms under your hand, leaning his head back and whining. he looks back up at you with probably the most pathetic look you’ve ever seen.

“you want me to touch you, don’t you, baby?” you say, moving your grip from his hair to caress his face.

“please,” seonghwa says, tears welling up in his eyes. his hips continue to thrust in the air slowly, cock twitching. “i’ve been so good…”

“you have been good, haven’t you?” you say. “let me take care of you…”

a/n: guys don't hate me i know it's short!!!! i was on vacay in chicago to see ateez and it gave me inspo and i had to write it out before i lost my mind. i have another fic in the works rn but i wanted to release this so u bitches had something while u wait lol

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[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - PART 1

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - When you were attacked in your own home, you confined yourself with Jonathan to help you heal. Until you learn a sickening truth that changes everything.

Warnings - extreme NON-CON, dub con, rough sex, drugging, oral, hand job, grinding, manipulation, stalking, controlling.

Word count - 6.9k+

Notes - I've been working on this for a long time and after many rewrites, this is the first of a two part story. This simple idea turned out to be so long that I had to split it up otherwise I would never finish it. Probably the darkest story I've written. Please note story isn't in chronology order. Comments/messages are urged if this even deserves the second part please. And I'm sorry but I hate proof reading.

For the first time forever, you felt as if you’ve finally recognised your priorities. You wanted Jonathan, you needed Jonathan. In desperate need of your call for help, you visualized screaming his name. Not the authorities, not a knight in shining armor, not a God, it was Jonathan. 

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop trembling as you remained curled up in a ball in your kitchen. The room was as dark as the deepest corner of a cave and it was as cold as ice on this winter’s night. All of your thoughts didn’t match up with each other as if they were scrambled in a pan like eggs, you struggled to remember where and who you were. 

Hesitantly, you gripped onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you pulled your aching body up as your hands searched and patted over the counter top. Feeling the home phone in your shaking hand, the buttons flashed a dim white light, but it was all a blur to you as you dialed the number. Holding the phone to your ear with an unsteady grip, you listened to the phone ring. Praying to any God that he would answer. Right when you thought the call was going to ring out, you heard his breathing on the other end of the line for a brief moment.

Your friendship had recently hit rock bottom with Jonathan, it was your fault, you know it was. You shouldn’t have been drinking in such an emotional state, you shouldn't have dressed the way you did, you shouldn’t have looked at him in that manner. You were selfish, merely wanting somebody’s complete attention. You've always led on Doctor Jonathan Crane, the ruthless misanthrope psychiatrist who had an undying obsession with you. But that night, you foolishly crossed the line you were determined to stay away from.

“What is it?” Jonathan answered, not sounding pleased to be answering a call at this time of the night, or by you, most likely both. But you were so relieved to hear his voice that you couldn’t help but to sob out loud. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off of your shoulders yet you never felt more empty. Your voice choked as you attempted to say something, anything. “Darling? What’s wrong?” Jonathan continued, his tone completely switching as he voiced his concern. 

“I- Johnny… I-I” you cried, lost for words. 

Your mind was still fuzzy as you looked down at your body, your pajama shorts ripped in multiple spots and dried fluids all over your flesh. You could hear him begging you to tell him what was wrong, had something happened to you? But you were still too deep in a state of shock and confusion to say anything. No matter how desperately you wanted to beg Jonathan to come save you, all you could do was sob. 

“Calm down, I’m leaving right now sweetheart. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please stay calm darling” he promised you before hanging up the line. If he could stay on the phone with you, he would.  

As the line went dead, you collapsed back onto the floor, curling back up into a ball as your body trembled in mental and physical distress. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do as he asked, how could you stay calm after this?

Jonathan used the spare key you gave him to open the door and quickly punched in the security code to your alarm system. Rushing down the dark hallway, he was calling out your name repetitively and flicked on the lights in the kitchen to reveal the heavily intoxicated you. Jonathan rushed to your side and kneeled, your eyes were glued shut from fear, your teeth chattering as he slowly went to touch your shoulder. Startled, you shrieked and flung yourself back, hitting your head on the wooden counter which caused flashing white lines through your darkened sight. 

“Shhhh” Jonathan soothed, pulling your body towards him, embracing you. Your body was as stiff as stone under his. “It’s just me sweetheart. Jonathan, it’s Johnny” he clarified, rubbing your back as he pressed his warm lips to your cold temple. 

Your mind was still unclear with whatever hardcore substance was in your system and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your skin felt filthy, as if you were drenched in grease. It was difficult to breathe, your chest tight and throat dehydrated. The feeling of agony weighed heavy on you, keeping you locked to the cold tiled floor. You looked at Jonathan with hesitation through teary eyes, not trusting him. 

When you realized it really was him you cried into his chest, letting it all out, holding onto him for dear life. Gently cooling by your ear to help calm you down, Jonathan rocked you back and forth as his eyes wandered around the lit room. He could see the havoc of your kitchen. The utensils spread all over the counter, broken glass and water on the floor.

“I’m here, you’re safe now” Jonathan promised you and despite your disoriented state, you knew his words to be true. 

Doctor Jonathan Crane was an intriguing character. Many would use precise words such as: bumptious, narcissistic, cunning and barbaric when describing him. He was a walking hazard. They’d all warn you to stay away from him, he was expressed as a psychotic genius who lets Hell rain in Arkham Asylum through his experiments for his own intellectual growth. 

To you, he was kind, understanding and never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the room. You cannot lie, your friendship with Jonathan was certainly unconventional. But Jonathan was smitten by you, and you felt tenderness with the idea of always having someone there for you. 

After almost an hour of blubbering on the floor, you laid back in the passenger seat in a dopey state, wrapped up in his coat as he cautiously drove you back to his house, gazing over to you every few seconds. The paranoia of that man, that monster coming back was too overbearing. Jonathan inwardly deemed that he would be able to take better care of you. He never had optimism in others, especially to the care of you. When the engine’s rumbled came to a sudden silence in the garage, Jonathan completely looked over to you, his fingertips brushing over your jawline. He grabbed your small bag in the backseat first, he’d pick up more belongings in the morning. Opening the car door for you, he wrapped his arm around you protectively and picked you off the ground bridal style. 

“Do you have any idea what he gave you sweetheart?” Jonathan projected as he carried you to his bedroom, laying you on the bed. Gently, you shook your head. “Well, you don’t look like you're overdosing…” Jonathan observed, checking your pulse. “But better to be safe than sorry” he murmured. 

Jonathan disappeared and reappeared swiftly, standing by your side with medical equipment. The vital signs were quickly checked. Besides your disorientation and heightened sense of fear, you showed no physical symptoms of an overdose. 

“Any chest pains? Nausea? Abdominal pain?” Jonathan asked slowly and you continued to shake your head. Humming in response, Jonathan searched through his bag and picked out a tablet. “Take this” he instructed. 

But you were skeptical as you squinted your eyes to the small white pill. Jonathan sighed and motioned the pill towards your lips. Your dry lips parted as he slipped the pill into your mouth, followed by the rim of a water bottle to help swallow it down.

“You need a bath, then I’ll make you some tea, okay?” Jonathan told you, caressing your forearm. 

Nodding in agreement, you watched Jonathan slip into the ensuite and you heard the water running, Your body lightly trembled as you closed your eyes and when you opened them again, you were in the bath with Jonathan kneeling beside you as he ran a cloth up and down your now warm skin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The water had a scent in it, lavender you believed. The steam dancing up into thin air over the water. 

You looked around your surroundings and then down as you saw your exposed body. Your arms instinctively went to cover yourself as your whimpers began to grow. A hush left Jonathan’s lips as his hand intertwined with yours to help calm you. He gave you a stern stare that screamed for you to stay calm. Yet his soft eyes were begging you to trust him, you took a deep breath in and laid your head back. It’s nothing Jonathan hasn’t seen after all. 

Jonathan wrapped the towel around you tightly after he guided you out of the tub, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders as he walked you into his walk-in wardrobe. He helped you dress into your pajamas, yet the short sleeves and pants made you feel insecure. Your arms wrapped around your body and Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you. After studying your expression, he pulled out his old university hoodie and slid it over your head. You sighed in relief, the scent of him still strongly on the fabric. 

Trailing after him like a lost puppy to the kitchen, he flicked on the kettle and plucked out an apple from the fruit bowl. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, he quickly sliced the apple into bite sized pieces and hand fed you bit by bit. 

“It’ll help calm your mind” Jonathan exhaled as he poured the hot water into the herbal tea. The mug was set beside you as he watched you momentarily, waiting for the tea to cool down. 

After a few minutes you took a small sip and breathed out, fresh tears pricking at your strained eyes. Everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, that monster, creature. Shifting your focus directly onto your tea, the two of you stood in silence, Jonathan’s eyes still set on you. The clock read 4:08 as its hands ticked loudly. 

He took your mug as you finished it. “I’ll sleep on the couch” he stated, gently pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You came to a sudden stop as you turned around to face him. 

“Please don’t… Stay with me” you weakly begged, dreading the idea of being alone. 

Jonathan’s eyes softened as he nodded in agreement and he guided you to the bedroom. He laid you comfortably on the bed and vanished into the walk-in wardrobe, returning in cozy pants and a long sleeve top. You slipped underneath the bed as his blue eyes stalked you, Jonathan slithered onto the bed and underneath the covers like a snake, pulling your fragile body towards his. Your breathing was staggered as laid your head on his firm chest, he left the lamp on, caressing your back as your tired eyes urged you to shut them but you were too afraid of seeing him again. 

After what felt like hours of just laying there, even though it was only a few minutes, your breathing got rougher as the memories began to control your thoughts. Your hand wrapped around his side firmly and Jonathan looked down. 

“Breathe in darling” Jonathan whispered. 

“What?” you frowned, looking up to him. 

“Breath in” he softly smiled, you did as he said. “Now breathe out” he continued on. Breathing out, Jonathan coached you to do it over and over again. 

Your chest relaxed as you laid your head back onto his chest, your tired eyes taking over you as you continued to breathe in and out at a steady pace. He whispered calming thoughts by your ear, he was so good with words.

“That’s a good girl” Jonathan whispered as you fell into a deep slumber, free from fear just for now. 

You met Jonathan at Gotham University. Everyone on campus despised him, a cocky know it all who’d jump at a debate whenever it raised on the surface. Jonathan was the first in all of his classes, no matter how hard all of the other students tried, he was unbeatable. But you couldn’t help but to be curious with his presence when you’d see him around campus. He was cute, charming if he wore the right clothes, but he was certainly a unique character. Jonathan was passionate, eager and sharp. 

He was in the year above you so you never had a real reason to talk to him. But if you’d walk past him in the hallways you’d greet him, he would never reply back however, hardly acknowledge your existence nevertheless. Yet sometimes you’d look up wherever you were on campus and catch him watching you. Like you were a gazelle in an open field. Usually people would instantly look away after being caught, but he continued to stare, as if he was studying you, dissecting you apart with his ocean blue eyes. 

It wasn’t until your second year when he approached you in the campus gardens, blocking off the sunlight, you looked up to the boy with dark hair. “Is it Professor Dickens or Winston that has you in such a state of distress?” Jonathan questioned you cockily, staring down at you with a sly grin, his hands behind his back. His rectangular framed glasses made him look goofy yet somewhat intimidating. 

After a short silence, you responded with a light chuckle, “Dickens” and Jonathan hummed loudly.  

“Ah, I do not speak from experience. However, many find Professor Dickens to be rather… rigorous” Jonathan replied, leaning over to look at the book you were studying. “I remember that textbook, it was rather unchallenging. What are you struggling with?” Jonathan asked, kneeling down next to you now to look at your jots in your notebook. 

“All of it really” you sighed, furrowing your eyebrows at how he is actually associating himself with you. “I had to leave town for a few days, my grandma was very ill. Professor Dickens didn’t approve of my appeal for an extension” you muttered slightly, feeling a wave of anger at the situation. 

“No issue, I was Professor Dickens star pupil” Jonathan responded, taking your notebook off of you without consent. Jonathan was all of his Professors’ star pupil. “I’ll be sure to make you the next” he grinned at you.

Your peculiar friendship rapidly continued to blossom over the months. Multiple times of the week you’d find yourself residing somewhere hidden on campus with Jonathan, sharing reports, experiments and research with one another. He became your mentor, tutor, inspiration to strive for brilliance in your education. 

Jonathan didn’t seem to be as evil as everyone made him out to be. However, you quickly realized that this behavior was merely reserved towards you. Not that he ever did any romantic gestures towards you. You could just read his eyes like a children’s book. Shamefully, you liked Jonathan, a lot more than you wanted to. Jonathan was a puzzle that you had this urge to try to solve, yet at times the pieces you’d connect together felt sinister which you ignorantly chose to ignore.

To Jonathan’s clear distaste, you were already in a relationship. Daniel was your high school sweetheart, but that relationship quickly went sour as you graduated. If you weren’t so comfortable with him, you would have broken up with him at the first red flag. No one should put up with the abuse and neglect he showed you. Especially with the bad habits he had picked up during your relationship. But you were young and naive, too afraid of what life would look like without him. 

Jonathan became aware of his maltreatment towards you when he noticed a light bruise over your jaw and a horrible excuse as to how it occurred. He knew you were lying by the way your cheeks would turn a few shades darker. This situation was no exception. But he said nothing, surprising with how he was always proud to state his opinion. Jonathan unhappily went along with your little lie to keep you content. 

Then, Daniel disappeared into thin air. Packed up all of his belongings abruptly in the middle of the night and never saw his face again. It wasn’t a surprise really, he had a cocaine issue, most likely made a few bad friends in the dark alleys of Gotham. You weren’t sure he ran away, or if something far sinister had occurred. Nevertheless, it was a shattering experience. But you had Jonathan to lean on for support and you couldn’t be anymore grateful. 

Expectedly shortly after, Jonathan confessed his feelings for you confidently yet emotionlessly. He was extremely understanding when you said that you couldn’t think about seeing people again yet and how you’d hate to ruin your friendship. Because it did mean so much to you. Jonathan only couldn’t resist keeping those thoughts inside of him any longer. Your friendship continued on like normal. 

When Jonathan earned his doctorate, you demanded he’d celebrate with you. As if he even had any other options. You were going to plan him a special night, but he had already beat you to it, he was such a control freak. The night was spent at one of Gotham’s finest restaurants. He wore his finest black suit and you wore a gorgeous bodycon silk green dress. It was the first time you had ever drank with Jonathan, you had a bottle of champagne on ice to share. Traditionally, Jonathan placed his card in the folder and flashed you a grin. It was one of the best nights of your life, living in luxury, gratefully with him. 

“I know I told you no gifts, but there is one thing that I wish from you” Jonathan exhaled as he parked his car outside of your apartment block. He looked over to you slowly and you could feel your heart pound in your chest, your throat tighten as if something had tied rope around it. 

You knew exactly what path he was walking down, this day was bound to pounch back at you again. When else then after an unofficial romantic dinner at one of Gotham’s finest?

“Yes Johnny?” You awkwardly chuckled, the streetlamps illuminating his expression of despair. 

“A kiss” he whispered, his look begging you to agree with him as he straightened his posture. 

“Jonathan” you warned, breaking eye contact immediately. What else should you have expected? It was your typical romantic dinner, he paid the bill, now you had to pay up with a different currency. 

“Just once… Every time I heard students snicker behind my back about how I… Couldn't pull…” Jonathan’s tongue clicked as if a drop of venom fell onto it. “I could never help but to feel embarrassed with them being correct, for once” he continued on, looking away from you in the same. “But yes, I have never had the pleasure of kissing a woman before, especially someone as beautiful as you” Jonathan admitted, sighing dramatically at the embarrassment.  

“Never?” You frowned towards him, feeling slightly guilty. 

As if it wasn’t as clear as day, he never spoke about his natural urges with you. A part of you was convinced that he would come out as asexual one day. It was all so extremely rare for him to get along with others, he would never do a sneaky link, especially during the academic period. No wonder he was always such an asshole to others. 

“Unfortunately my brilliance in psychology doesn’t even out my ill-manners towards others” Jonathan exhaled, biting on his lips at the unfortunate truth. 

Perhaps it was the champagne urging you towards him, but Jonathan just looked so sweet and innocent right now. You couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for him, especially after all he has done for you. 

“One kiss…” you stated, holding up one finger. 

Jonathan gently nodded and leant towards you eagerly, his hands snaked to your back to pull your bodies together. If only you could hear how rapid his heartbeat was. He was hesitant, so you closed the distance and pressed your lips against his. 

Jonathan hummed, his mouth opening ajar for his tongue to slip out, subconsciously you allowed his slippery tongue inside your warm mouth. His hands slowly slid up your back as your tongues danced together in the silent atmosphere. Right as you noticed your body being drawn to him you abruptly pulled yourself away from him. The pair of you silently caught your breath. 

There was a brief moment of silence, your mind still registering how intense of a kiss that was. How strong it felt when it should have felt like nothing. 

“Thank you darling” Jonathan smiled as he leaned back into his seat, but his hand danced over yours and you allowed him to. 

“We need to find you a hooker to get you laid” you laughed, playfully smacking his hand. 

If your studies didn’t teach you much of manipulation, Jonathan sure did. He was a puppeteer, you’d never want him to attach strings to you. Considering how afraid you were of getting his claws on you, you seemed to forget the leash you had on Jonathan. He’d do anything for you, you’d be lying if you said that you’ve never taken advantage of that. But at the end of the day, your relationship with Jonathan was simple and fundamental. To his dismay, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

There was this unwritten debt between Jonathan and yourself. He gave you favor after favor without hesitation over the years accompanied by a toothy grin. Jonathan continued to mentor you in your last year of university despite having a demanding full time profession. Landed you an interview at Arkham Asylum when you were in desperate need of a job. It was only temporary to be in the forensic psychiatric department, working with the criminally insane just wasn’t your ideal workplace unlike Jonathan’s. You were much more interested in neuropsychiatry. He gave you an excellent reference for your current job. Realistically, you shouldn’t have gotten the job with a salary that good, but he made it work. Jonathan has been your rock for years, you egocentrically seemed to forget how much you really did depend on him. 

It made you feel like a horrible person, but he was already clingy enough with you, not that you seemed to complain, you enjoyed the company. You’d talk most days despite your busy schedules. The pair of you would spend the majority of your free days together by exploring museums, watching theater performances or going out for a lovely meal. The blind eye would assume the pair of you were a couple, sometimes you even wondered if you were. 

Jonathan hated it when you hung out with others, especially if you didn’t tell him prior. A foul word never slipped his mouth, but you could hear it all in his tone, if not see it in his stern expression. Sometimes you’d tell him of your dates just to get him to back off every once in a while. Doctor Jonathan Crane was a jealous man around you, because he couldn’t have you the way he wanted to. A part of you grew to find it stimulating over the course, because he had no control in the situation. 

Yet your love life was hopeless. The vitality of your sex life purely depended on one night stands after a drunken night out. Whenever you were asked on a date, he’d ghost you before the second date. So you gave up on dating for a long time, focusing on your work instead. At the end of some nights with an empty bottle of wine, you’d think of Jonathan, the potential there was with him. But you would always feel your stomach turn, or throat tighten at the thought of being completely his. 

But then, you unexpectedly fell for your new coworker Anthony Gray. Anthony was a total catch, confident, charming, respected, physically built and loving. There was this instant spark that neither of you wanted to deny, eager to pounce on the sensation. Within the workplace you found yourself sneaking around with him, kissing him, touching him, feeling him inside of you. The workplace had a conflict of interest policy, let alone a no fucking on the job policy. The two of you kept your affair hidden, there were eyes everywhere in Gotham and you’d be stupid to get fired over having dinner in the wrong place. If it wasn’t in the building, you’d be at one or another’s house. It was a thrilling sensation to keep your relationship a secret from everyone in Gotham, including Jonathan, but the pair of you were figuring out how to make it work publicly. 

Telling Jonathan of your little love affair was the least of your priorities even though the relationship was growing more stable by the day. Even though you never gave him any hints of mutual affection, he seemed to be eternally entranced by you. Patiently waiting for the opportunity to have you, claim you, own you.

Unknowingly, well slightly knowingly, you distanced yourself from Jonathan. Only by missing a few phone calls from him and sounding distracted over the phone when you did answer. Typically, Jonathan picked up on this unusual behavior within a snap. Suddenly showing up on your doorstep one day as if to catch you out, with a loaf of bread in his hands. 

“Oh, Johnny! What brings you here?” You chuckled, looking him up and down. 

“It had been a while, so I thought I’d surprise you. Grabbed it from that market place we use to go to every weekend” he answered, heavily emphasizing on the words ‘use to’. 

After an awkward moment of silence, you took a step back and gestured to him to come inside, he took your offer instantly. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Jonathan asked, his tone making it sound like a demanding question. 

“Just working really, going out a few times” you replied, hoping the lie will lead him down the wrong path as you pulled out the bread knife from the block. Jonathan hummed as he dropped the bread onto the cutting board, almost in a forceful manner. You turned back to him, frowning as you tried to read his emotion. 

You’d think with your doctorate in psychiatry you’d be able to completely read him right now, but in moments like this, he was a wolf hidden amongst the trees.

“Everything okay Johnny?” You murmured. 

There was a low groan that left his lips, his eyes twitching slightly as he debated to say what he really wanted to say. “Just backed up with a lot of paperwork” Jonathan eventually answered, spinning on his heel to pull the butter out from the fridge.  

You weren’t ready to shatter his heart into millions of pieces, not yet. Especially in such an isolated setting, it made you feel anxious to the core. Just a few more weeks, of peace, of zen with Anthony. Then you’d break the news to Jonathan, perhaps your friendship too, and most certainly his heart. 

You brought Anthony over to your house the next day, unaware of a lingering figure across the street who’s knuckles turned white and teeth gritted together. 

After a few slow knocks, you lowered your head as you waited patiently for the door to open. You look down at your dress again, you had changed your clothes multiple times. Everything you put on made you feel ugly and insecure. The door swung open, Jonathan gave you a sympathetic look as he gestured you to come inside. His hands briefly rested on your shoulder as he took off your coat, revealing your simple yet elegant black dress. Leading you to the living room, you sat on the space gray couch, eyes looking over the small cheese board. 

Jonathan wandered off to the kitchen, his back turned to you as he picked up two wine glasses and a fine bottle of shiraz. The sound of the dark red substance gracefully falling into the glass filled your ears as you played with the rim of your dress. 

“So, how are you feeling?” Jonathan asked softly, standing tall as he held out your glass. 

“Like shit” you mumbled, accepting the glass without hesitation and downing half of it within one big chug. Jonathan snorted lightly as he sat down next to you. 

“Darling, darling, darling” he sighed, his lips resting on the rim of the glass. You rolled your eyes at his lecture like tone and expression. Feeling like he was going to scold you like a child. “You should have had me meet him first, for a third party perspective and opinion” Jonathan continued on after he took a sip. 

“Didn’t realize this was mediation Jonathan” you gritted your teeth. 

When Anthony didn’t show up to work one day, you found it extremely odd. Presuming that he would have contacted you if he wasn’t going to be showing up. You had messaged him a couple of times during the day but they were all left on delivered. It wasn’t until you got home from a tiring day's work that you saw the letter in your mailbox. By the time you got to his house, everything looked to have been moved out through the open blinds. 

“I’m sorry darling, I am” Jonathan swore. 

It was an opposing response from Jonathan. Yes, he was sorry with how negative you were feeling, but he couldn’t help but to feel happy at the outcome of your relationship. His fingertips brushed over your bare knee as you finished the glass, motioning the empty glass towards Jonathan for a refill. 

He chuckled lightly and took the glass from you. The taste of grapes lingered on your tongue as you waited for his return. The glass was almost filled to the rim. Jonathan wasn’t much of a drinker, he always claimed how alcohol could kill his intellectual potential. But on nights like these, he made an exception for you. 

When you were three drinks in, your thoughts and emotions came to light, just as Jonathan predicted. “I just-” you slurred, fingers trailing over the rim of the glass. Your eyes watered at the thought of Anthony and how he left you without proper closure. You blinked hard, the wine hitting you much harder than predicted, perhaps that’s what happens when you’ve hardly eaten all week. “Don’t understand” you eventually finished your sentence in a mumble as Jonathan returned with your fourth glass of wine. “He told me he was fixing things with his ex, moving across the country to be with her. I didn't even know about her…” You sighed loudly, feeling your eyes prickle and swell up. 

“He’s a moron who cannot appreciate beauty, what else do I need to say darling?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you, swirling the remaining drops of wine in his glass. 

You felt dizzy, your thoughts were slightly disoriented as you hummed longly in return. There was a gentle sway in your body, as your tongue poked into the wine. Jonathan finished his wine and placed it on the coffee table with a clink. 

Leaning closer to you, your heartbeat picked up and you could feel jittery over your skin. Were his eyes always that captivating blue? Your stomach turned, in a good way, a way you’ve forgotten about for so long.

“You deserve to be treated so much better” Jonathan confessed through a sigh, his arm snaking behind your back to pull you closer to him. 

Of the few times you’ve drunken with Jonathan, he has never been this touchy. Yet, you couldn’t help but to feel a new sensation of this. 

“I know, I’ll get over it eventually” you responded, avoiding eye contact with him. Yet you couldn’t help but to enjoy the warmth and security of his arm around your body. 

“Do you know how a man should treat you?” Jonathan murmured, a small sly grin on his lips. 

“How?” You frowned towards him in a growing blurry vision, unknowingly leaning closer to him. 

“Worshiped every day, body, mind and soul” he answered calmly, his eyes slowly examining your body. 

“You don’t mean that” you lightly scoffed, bringing the drink back to your lips to distract yourself, as if that will do any help. 

When you put the glass down on the coffee table, Jonathan took your chin in his hand. Staring at one another, you waited for him to make a move, but he just admired you, his lips ajar open as his thumb rolled circles over your soft skin. 

“I do” Jonathan vowed. Your head felt unfocused, your body felt like it was floating. This was like you were in a dream. “I can treat you so much better. I will treat you so much better” Jonathan corrected himself, now gripping onto your inner thigh instead of your chin. “Just give me a chance to show you how you deserve to be loved” Jonathan pleaded, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please” he begged softly, waiting for you to open the door for him. Your face turned away at his words, at his pleading. 

On any other night, you probably would have ran for the hills. But tonight, you desperately wanted to get Anthony out of your mind. It felt contradicting with how right and wrong it felt. But it didn’t phase you what would happen tomorrow, you wanted Jonathan right now. 

There was no response from you, Jonathan took that as his que to guide your face to directly look at him so he could kiss you. It surprised you with how soft his lips were, the way he hummed softly as he gently pushed his tongue into your warm mouth. After a quick stiff moment, your stance relaxed and you leaned closer to him. Your arms naturally wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. Jonathan groaned into your mouth, his hand pulled your hips over to straddle his lap. 

It felt so wrong, but he was so skillful with that tongue of his. Your logic was imprisoned by your sensations right now. Soft hands running up and down your heated skin, you couldn’t resist but to moan back into his mouth. Your cunt was aching for him so you non controllingly began rocking over his already formed boner. He nibbled at your neck, causing you to giggle as you grind over him in an unsteady motion. 

You lifted your hips up slightly as your hand brushed down his torso, Jonathan’s head fell back as he watched you, his mouth open. There was a slow moan from him as your hand cupped his crotch, Jonathan grinned widely, his own hands slipping down to unbutton his trousers. Quickly, your hand slipped underneath his underwear and you were stroking his firm size slowly. 

“Let me take you to the bedroom” Jonathan pleaded and you hummed in a daze like state. 

Jonathan picked you up and impatiently carried you to his bedroom. Giggling like a child over his shoulder, Jonathan laid you onto his bed, your flats falling off in the process. He straddled you down just as quick. The lamp was already on so you took a good look at his expression. 

An animal. That’s what you saw initially despite your heavily drunken state. A predator who was ready to attack his prey and you were helpless right now, the back of your mind was hoping that you’d just sink into the bed to get away from him. 

He wasn’t as gentle as you’d hope him to be as his soft hands groped your body. “What are you doing?” You murmured, as he slid down your body, his knees landing on the floor. 

There was no response from him except a groan. He pulled your hips forward and scrunched your dress up. It felt like fireworks exploding up your skin, the way his fingers trailed over you. Jonathan pulled your thong off of your legs, kissing your inner calf afterwards. 

“Wait…” you objected, common sense trying to snap you out of this trance, but he ignored you. 

“Waited so long for this, so, so long” Jonathan moaned, crawling up your lower body until his breath reached your bare cunt. 

Kissing your inner thigh, Jonathan looked at you, just wanting to take your nervous expression in for a moment. He placed your legs over his shoulders as his tongue slithered over your core. Your abdomen tensed and legs tightened around his head. His tongue zigzagged over sensitive skin, causing a rather loud yelp of pleasure. It was humiliating with how fucking good he could use that tongue of his. 

Your growing orgasm built on your tummy as his tongue slipped inside your sweet hole. Your fingers gripped into his hair to pull his head away, it was just all so much, you felt like you were blacking out. But Jonathan’s head was stuck in your cunt like it was glued. He was lapping you up as if he was starving, his left thumb found its way to your clit and rubbed desperately to make you release. 

“Jonathan” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut. 

Jonathan only moaned in response, his mouth full of your sweet substance. You tried to hold it off, but failed miserably, coming all over Jonathan’s face without warning, your hips rocking in rhythm with your orgasm. However, Jonathan greedily ate you all up, quickly climbing on top of your body. He swiftly pulled your dress off over your head and his hands trailed over your breasts. A small laugh left his lips as he ripped off your nipple covers, his crotch pressed into your abdominal.  

Jonathan smiled wickedly to you and even though you were still in your post orgasmic daze, you could see the craze in his eyes. But you were too intoxicated and horny to scrutinize him. Your arms reached out to pull him closer to you. With his smaller size, you didn’t expect his back to feel so firm. Kissing each other hungary, Jonathan’s hands quickly tried to undo his trousers. 

His hips flexed back as he pulled out his size. Your lips separated as he stroked himself a few times, looking down to your entrance. Even though your vision was blurry, you could see how big he was crystal clear. You gulped heavily as Jonathan hovered back over you with his tip pressed against your entrance. Jonathan gave you a soft kiss on the lips as he began to thrust in.

“Oh! you feel like heaven. I have found paradise…” Jonathan declared through moans. He was most definitely the largest you’ve ever had. It was hurting more than pleasuring, but you were so wet. “Your cunt wraps perfectly around my cock darling” he praised, his hand brushing over your flustered jaw. 

“It’s hurting” you whimpered, your body stiff underneath his. Jonathan blinked a couple of times but didn’t respond. 

“You’re mine, all mine. Always have been, always will be” Jonathan grunted as he fully pushed himself inside of you. Your walls squeezed around his cock as you grumbled in agony. “You’ve finally come to realize” he exhaled, his hand brushing the side of your face as the pleasure slowly overthrew the pain. 

His words seemed to have sobered you up. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this turning into ownership. Jonathan could see the glimpse of horror in your eyes, he smiled widely as he gradually picked up his speed as your canal adjusted to his size. 

You wanted to throw him off of you. But your mind was so engaged in your physical sensations and drowsiness of the alcohol that you could only lay back and guiltily enjoy yourself, expressing how satisfied you were by your moans. 

“Jerked off to the thought of you every single fucking night” Jonathan grumbled out, his nails digging into your flesh. “Such fucking torture” he spat. 

Jonathan pushed your thighs apart as his cock traveled in deeper, groaning like crazy as his balls were slapping against your skin. His grip on your upper thighs will probably bruise by the morning. The mixture of both of your moans was heaven to his ears. You’ve never seen Jonathan smile so much, he couldn’t wipe it if he wanted to. 

He also seemed to refuse to break eye contact with you, as if he was studying you or was afraid you’d run away if out of sight. His nostrils were flared and jaw clenched as he continued his pleasure-filled attack. You were pulsing around his size, his breathing seemed to stagger, pace losing its rhythm. 

“Come on darling, one more time… I know you can be a good girl, come so I can” Jonathan moaned. 

You can’t tell if it was a beg or a demand. His words were so gentle, but that look in his eyes was as if hell would break loose if you failed to comply. Regardless, you did as he asked, clenching as tight as you could around him as you cried out, your back aching as you swore you could see stars. Jonathan quickly followed, falling completely on top of you as his arms quickly snaked around you. 

He kissed you passionately as he pumped his seed deep inside of you. When his lips pulled away from yours, he was moaning your name over and over. A wave of exhaustion crashed over you. Your eyes felt so drowsy, all of your energy completely drained dry. Jonathan caressed your cheek as your sight was quickly consumed by darkness. 

What have you done?

[writinginpinkpink]

Old Habits Die Hard.

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

summary: Old habits die hard, and maybe that’s why you somehow always end up in Eddie’s arms. It’s also why you can’t help but keep breaking his heart.

author's note: I really should be working on my Homelander series, but ever since I wrote the Billy Hargrove fic, I’ve been so hooked on writing for Eddie too!!

warnings: violence/fight scene (not with reader.), substance use (weed).

masterlist | requests open! | one shot!

Everything in your life was perfect. You had a bunch of friends, a perfect boyfriend, and were one of the prettiest girls at school. You walked through the hallways like you owned the place—because, frankly, you did. Everyone wanted to be you or be with you.

So why is it that every time you pass that stupid boy, your heart races and your palms get sweaty? Why do you feel guilty? Whenever this happened, you went to your usual spot by the trees, away from everyone, and remembered the days when you were unapologetically messy.

“There’s no way I just caught Little Princess smoking!” Eddie’s voice startled you, making you toss away your blunt. “I guess old habits die hard, right?”

“Shut up,” you said, already standing up. You knew where this conversation would lead, but this time it was different. This time you had a boyfriend, and you weren’t the same person anymore.

“Come on,” Eddie said, gently grabbing your arm and looking down at you with those big eyes. “Why are you leaving so soon? The party’s just getting started!”

“Eddie, I’m done with this, remember?” You pulled his hands off you and started to get on your bike.

“Oh, I remember,” he said, looking at the ground. “But I’m not saying we have to do something.”

You scoffed. “You always want to do something, Eddie.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, looking at you again. When he made those big doe eyes at you, you knew you were in trouble. The cycle was about to repeat itself, and it was too late to stop it. “Just old friends meeting each other again?”

The way he said it made your heart ache. You nodded.

“Whatever, I don’t have anything better to do,” you said, leaving your bike and following him to his van.

-

Your head was in the clouds, your eyes red, and no matter what Eddie said, you laughed as if it were the funniest thing anyone had ever said to you.

"I missed this…" you admitted, perhaps too high to realize that not every thought should be spoken out loud.

Eddie looked at you, his mind blank, nodding. You weren’t lying. You did miss Eddie—the way he understood you, his effortless cool, how he could make your heart skip a beat without even trying. You wished Tommy could do the same.

"Why don’t you stay then?" Eddie whispered, moving closer. You could smell his perfume.

"Eddie…" you said, inching closer to him as well. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew the right thing to do was leave, but Eddie was like a magnet, pulling you to him every time he was near. You still had to decide if you loved it or hated it.

"Give in to me," he pleaded, his hands on your face. "For the last time?" But you knew it wouldn’t be the last time. After all, that day four months ago was supposed to be the last time, and even though you didn’t like Tommy that much, you couldn’t do that to him.

So you got up, shaking your head, hoping to sober up. You mentally cursed yourself for putting yourself in this position.

"No, Eddie," you said, your voice suddenly cold. "I’m not like you anymore." You knew it hurt him when you said things like that, maybe that was why you said it.

"It’s funny how you think you’re too good for me now," he chuckled, though his eyes were serious. "You’re exactly like me. You just hide it better, sweetheart." He smiled, knowing he was hurting you too. It was a vicious cycle you two had, and you wondered if that’s why you kept coming back, hoping it would be different this time.

You hated Eddie. You hated that he was right, that he was the only one who could see through your facade. He could see who you were inside—a pretty face with a rotten soul.

You slammed the door of his van, wishing it would break. As you biked home, tears of anger streamed down your cheeks. How dare he be such an asshole to you, a girl boys lined up to be with? He was lucky you even gave him the time of day.

Maybe it was the bad trip, the anger, or the hurt in your chest as you burst into your room. You found the tape with songs Eddie mixed just for you. You stepped on it, spat on it, and threw it in the trash. That’s what he deserved—for making you feel this way.

You went to sleep crying, not even bothering to change. You remembered the days when you and Eddie would write songs together, spending whole days in his room, loving each other like there was no tomorrow. But those days would never come back. Now, Eddie was your only hell, while everyone else seemed to worship the ground you walked on. At first, you thought it was a good change, but each day brought second thoughts.

-

Today is another day, a better day, you told yourself as you pretended to listen to Tommy during lunch. You resolved to forget whatever happened the day before; the old you was gone, and today was all about the new you. Old habits would die.

"He's such a freak!" Tommy shouted, laughing as he stuffed his mouth with food. That’s when you were jolted back to reality. Hearing Tommy’s mocking comment made you feel small. You weren't Eddie, but every time they called him a freak, you thought about the mean things they might say if they really knew you. But it didn’t matter anymore; you weren’t her anymore.

You noticed Eddie walking toward Tommy’s direction, probably having overheard Tommy’s comment since he wasn’t exactly discreet about it. You bumped your shoulder into his, nodding toward Eddie.

You regretted it the moment Tommy’s shoulders tensed. He stood up, preparing himself as Eddie approached.

"You want to repeat what you said?" Eddie demanded, making quick eye contact with you as you subtly tried to signal that what he was doing was a bad idea.

Tommy didn’t even answer before he threw the first punch. You averted your eyes, not wanting to witness the scene unfolding. Once again, you hated yourself for secretly cheering Eddie on.

You could hear the crowd yelling as some teachers tried to break up the fight and escort them to the principal’s office. If you had looked back, you would have seen Eddie’s bloody, cheeky smile as the teacher held his shirt, pushing him down the hallway. But you didn’t look back.

You didn’t see Tommy for the rest of the day, and part of you was relieved. You didn’t have to pretend you were worried about him or hide your concern for Eddie.

In fact, as everyone talked about the fight throughout the day, all you could think about was Eddie. You knew Tommy was a skilled fighter and that Eddie had lost the element of surprise. So, it didn’t feel wrong when you grabbed your bike and headed to his place instead of yours.

You felt guilty, but you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. After all, you were just making sure he was okay, knowing that no one else would care. It was a good cause—charity, even. You knocked on his door, convincing yourself that you were doing something noble, with no ulterior motives.

Eddie opened the door, his eyes widening. “Why aren’t you taking care of your perfect boyfriend?” he grinned, and the cut on his lip only made him look even hotter.

“I don’t know, I guess I was just worried about you,” you said, surprised at how honest your words sounded. You realized you weren’t lying.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you before pulling you into a kiss. The taste of blood made everything more intense as you realized that old habits really are hard to die.

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 2

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |      PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,305 

Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few. 

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.

Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.

“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.” 

I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often. 

What was he doing?

I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to. 

Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.

One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.

“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work. 

“I’m not tired.”

I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head. 

“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.” 

I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work. 

Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.

I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles. 

Fucking hell.

It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin. 

As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep. 

It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.

I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?

I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.   

I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot. 

Huh.

I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone. 

I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it. 

I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture. 

I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous. 

I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.

That’s… weird.

I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result. 

The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that. 

Jesus.

I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night. 

Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.  

I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.

Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?

I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that. 

I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He was a portrait of domesticity. 

I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.

“I made breakfast.” He said. 

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know. 

“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked. 

He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.” 

“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown. 

“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about. 

A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked. 

He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it. 

“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked. 

“Okay, I guess.”  I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth. 

“Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness. 

Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth. 

“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter. 

“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.

“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring. 

“Your face is red.” He remarked.

“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth. 

“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night. 

“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.

“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” 

“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“That’s not… no.” 

“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.

“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward. 

He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist. 

I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating. 

Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.

“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.

He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”

“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked. 

“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things. 

“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here. 

Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.

“Can I leave the house?” I asked.

“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?

“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?” 

“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.” 

“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said. 

“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional. 

It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back. 

He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat. 

“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”

“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device. 

“Miguel.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no. 

“Come on!”

“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh. 

“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” 

“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?” 

“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee. 

“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”

“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us. 

“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.

A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist. 

"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."

He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.

I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one. 

Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone. 

His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me. 

"You look beautiful this morning." He said. 

“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?” 

He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist. 

It was time for him to go. 

He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.” 

I guess that was my answer.

He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching. 

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.

A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then, just like that, he was gone. 

I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present. 

I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.

He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby. 

Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside. 

It didn’t matter; I had to know. 

I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist. 

It was locked.

Damn it. 

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place. 

I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower. 

I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me. 

Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.

I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue. 

I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment,  the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch. 

What the fuck?

The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.

None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had. 

At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.

I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar. 

A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross. 

I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit. 

Jesus.

I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile. 

His child. 

I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.

Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.

However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs. 

Miguel was home entirely too early. 

And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.

I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace. 

I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.

I didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red. 

“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected. 

“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked. 

"No."

The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got. 

“You had a child?” I asked. 

He winced. “I did.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes. 

I was also a sore spot for him. 

I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present. 

“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh. 

“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.” 

He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”

He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control. 

What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry. 

However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good. 

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen. 

My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger. 

He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet. 

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us. 

We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him. 

I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man. 

I glanced up. My eyes met his.

I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out. 

I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.

He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."

The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes. 

My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise. 

I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 

Just after two.

Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found. 

Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him. 

Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below. 

"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood. 

"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital. 

There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath. 

Dear God, what the hell happened to him?

"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black. 

"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.

"I don't need help."

"Miguel." 

"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain. 

"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.

Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."  

"This isn't nothing." 

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below. 

I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close. 

"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor. 

"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers. 

I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.

I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him. 

"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark. 

"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."

I had already lost him once…

He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it. 

He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.

"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin. 

"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.

The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.

I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting 

"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing. 

"I wasn't asleep." 

"Why not?"

"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."

"I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." 

Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away. 

"I was really worried about you." I admitted.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long. 

"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide. 

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did. 

One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.

"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.

His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes. 

"Strip and get in the tub."

"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there. 

"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.

"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper. 

"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.

"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now. 

I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes. 

He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material. 

My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing." 

"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes. 

"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath. 

I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with. 

He was always full of surprises.

Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light. 

“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.” 

"That's what you think." He muttered. 

"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked. 

"Only for you, sweetheart." 

I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face. 

“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.

Maybe it was best that I didn’t know. 

"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head. 

Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.  

"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.

"I haven't been."

I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting." 

"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly. 

"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me. 

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air. 

"Get in with me." He said. 

"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."

He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."

"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him. 

A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom. 

"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.

Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him. 

I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm. 

"Stop staring at me." I said. 

"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.

"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.

"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked. 

"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."

"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me. 

"What's the second thing?" I asked. 

"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.

"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."

"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here." 

I watched his face as he spoke.

Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said. 

He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.

"This isn't fair." I murmured. 

"Sure it is." 

"How do you figure?"

"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible. 

"The stars are different here." I said. 

"Hmm?"

"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."

Andromeda. The chained woman. 

The irony was not lost upon me. 

My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.

He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin. 

"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin. 

"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back. 

"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.

When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft. 

"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips. 

I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.

“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water. 

“Aww, so you can be nice.” 

I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.

But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.

He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked. 

"What?" It caught me off guard.

"You heard me. Are you?" 

A little bit. 

"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?” 

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. 

“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him. 

As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said. 

“Yes, I did sleep.”

“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.

“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window. 

“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way. 

“About what?”

He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.

I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop. 

He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.

As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.

“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.

“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke. 

He didn’t laugh.

Oh.

“Miguel.”

“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be. 

“We didn’t in mine.” I said.

“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.

“Were you ever watching?” I asked. 

“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”

“Miguel!”

“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”

“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box. 

“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell. 

“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.

“Jealousy, mostly.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.

“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement. 

Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.

“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.

“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.” 

“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried. 

He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.

“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.

“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic. 

“More than anything.” 

I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips  upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder. 

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.

I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him. 

After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan. 

I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. 

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.

I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten. 

He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.

I was his. I belonged to him. 

As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again. 

When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."

I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.

"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.

I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him. 

I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other. 

“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.

Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.

I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.

After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.

The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin. 

It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.

I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.

"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his. 

"I'm tired." I murmured. 

"I know, sweetheart."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said. 

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get. 

"I missed you, too." 

He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky. 

@levisbebe @amplsblog​ @spider-biter​ @taleiak​ @ladyfairenvale​ (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed you!)

[thegnomelord]

I have had a thought.

What if dragons purr when you rub their horns..

Dragon!Price x Gaz and/or Nikolai,,,

Hehdhehehe

Hmmm, I don't usually write character x character but i'll give it a try so tell me if this sucks lol

CW: SFW, Price x Gaz, horn rubbing, purring, monster cod au, soft short and sweet. 1224 words. Cross posted to Ao3

Kyle is a good soldier. Strong. Competent. Reliable. Though the fears of losing him on every mission still linger, they're eased by the fact that Price never has to worry that his sergeant will stumble in those crucial moments when a second of hesitation can be the difference between life and death. Never has to worry that his Gaz will think of himself as expendable and rush into the hailstorm of bullets. . .

Kyle is also a menace.

Especially when he's perched on his desk and giving John the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. "Please, captain, just one time?" The imp of a harpy even has the gall to flutter his eyes, looking at him through his lashes because he knows how the light of the setting sun hits his eyes juuuust right to make the brown glitter like gold and amber jewels.

"Kyle." Price stresses. This really isn't the time to indulge his sergeant's need for mischief when he's got a week's worth of backlogged paperwork to go through.

"Sir." Kyle throws his tone back at him, but the way the word rolls off his tongue and he adds the smallest chirp to the end of it makes something inside him stir. "Come on mate, I promise it'll only take five minutes." Kyle's wings spread out so he can display the shininess of his feathers - peacocking transcends species it seems - the mundane dark color turned to that of rich obsidian by the sun.

"It never takes just 'five minutes'." He tries to argue, but the usual commanding rumble in his voice is gone. Price knows he's fighting a losing battle from the way his fingers itch for him to burry them into the smooth feathers and preen Kyle's wings until his treasure croons.

Kyle knows this. He's unable to hide the arrogant look in his eyes when he bites his bottom lip and leans back, muscles tensing, because he knows how such a display of his body will make John's eyes automatically roam across his hard earned muscles. "Pretty please." Kyle says, tail feathers gently twitching side to side.

Both of them know Price never stood a chance.

"That was dirty." John sighs, dejected by his own weakness. The distance between them is small, but Price purposely takes slow steps. Kyle eagerly scoots back on the desk and spreads his legs for John to fit between, hands raising to hold his biceps as Price braces his palms against the desk next to Kyle's hips.

Kyle snorts. "As if you've never stooped lower cap." He spreads his wings to wrap around Price, soft feathered wing wrists bumping against his back.

John just growls lowly in response. He doesn't resist his body's natural desire to reciprocate, to reaffirm the claim over his hoard. The atrophied muscles on his right side still ache with phantom pain after all this time, but that doesn't stop him from wrapping his one remaining wing around Kyle. The combination of their wings acts as a shroud from the rest of the world, soft feathers brushing against his green scales and their scents mixing together.

Price treasures these little moments.

The peace only lasts for a few seconds before Kyle ruins it with a grin. "Now come on, give me your horns." He says, not even bothering for Price to tilt his head before Kyle's clever fingers rise up his arms to cup his face, inching closer to where his horns grow out of his skull.

Price promises to himself to hunt down and shoot whichever wanker posted the '101 ways to make a dragon purr like a kitty' on the internet. Ever since Kyle found that blasted instruction manual he's been trying to go through the entire list to verify the information. Price had seen the article in question and had nearly choked when he'd read that the author thought pulling on a dragon's tail could get them any other reaction than an immediate bisection—

Kyle's impatient fingers still just enough to gently scratch the bumpy base of his scalp around the horns. It tingles, and Price isn't able to tell if the tingling sensation is of the good kind or a bad. A small sound rolls from his throat, but that doesn't satisfy Kyle.

"Come on John, sing for me." Kyle repeats the words Price tells him when he's preening him, voice light and just at the edge of taunting. Keeping one hand around his base, Kyle slides the palm of his other hand up the hard bone until he reaches the natural curve of Price's horn. He squeezes gently and moves his hand like he's jerking him off.

"O-oh." Price is grateful he's bracing against the desk because his legs go weak. The sensation of his palm and the pressure of his hand is neither good nor bad, just unfiltered feeling that his brain can't even begin to handle, so it shoots it down his spine like lightning. The buzz of sensation catches on every vertebra and makes his wing quiver, forces his tail to wag like he's some lost puppy.

"Not what I was expecting." Kyle confesses. Price can't see the surprise and wonder on his face as John's eyes close automatically. His head tips forward to rest his forehead on Gaz's chest, brawny biceps tensing to just support his weight and claws digging into the desk with enough force to tear through the wood.

Kyle moves his hands so he's holding Price's horns in both hands. The pale green horns are smooth under his palms besides the occasional scratch or chip in them. Kyle moves his hands with slowly and methodically, changing the pressure he uses on every stroke and paying special attention to the sharp tips of his horns.

That's all it takes to turn John's chest into an geriatric engine. Price manages to groan and mumble a curse under his breath before the only sound leaving his lips is the deep baritone purr. There's no way of stopping it; If Price was in a better mind he would question why the gentle stroking of his horns has him feeling like a puddle of goo but his brain is completely fried from the sensation.

Kyle has heard him purr before but this is different. All the other times his purrs would always be throaty and quiet. Now it feels like the sound is coming straight from the bottom of his chest and, fuck, Kyle can feel it, feel the rumble shake his ribs and the desk beneath him. The sound is loud and unpolished and so raw Gaz feels naked just hearing it.

Kyle can feel his heard beating a mile a minute, his surprise making his hands still just long enough for Price to look up at him. Kyle could die happy after seeing how fucked out Price looks — pupils dilated to the size of plates, panting, red faced, so open and unguarded. Comfortable. With him.

"You've been holding out on me John." Kyle smiles softly, starting to stroke his horns again.

Price purrs even louder, his tail curling around Kyle's leg, managing to pull the claws of one hand from the desk to grip Kyle's thigh and pull him closer, draconic hind-brain desperately seeking to get more of that gluttonous pleasure from Kyle's hands.

Safe to say they take longer than five minutes.