#also i need to lower the hairline of the third hair i know

[inwarvictory]

it’s portin' time!

i learned how to port sims 4 hair into Inquisition and I'm starting with female dwarves bc dwarves deserve some love too

[sleepyangelkami]

NS//FW ALPHABET e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 5.5K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, nsf//w themes, much much more but unfortunately i will not be typing them all out because this entire post is around sexual themes, read at your own risk ! intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

AFTERCARE, what they're like after sex as soon as ellie's strap is out of your hole, she turns to the sweetest girl ever. not that she wasn't sweet before but sometimes she can be a little rough or degrading but she makes sure to completely flip that straight away. as soon as she has the harness off, she's cooing, praising you for doing such a good job. "did such a good job f'me, sweet girl." and immediately she's gathering you in her arms, peppering kisses all over your hairline. "think you're okay to go for a bath?" because sometimes, you're just too tired to. now, it's not as if she's about to judge you for this but she merely bathes you after because she knows you don't like the sticky, uncomfortable feeling afterwards between cum and sweat. she "good girl, doin' so well." she'll praise as she washes down your entire body for you. after sex, ellie's only priority is you and making sure that you go to sleep feeling good. usually, you're in a fresh set of jammies, hair still sort of wet while your backside is cuddled into her front. 

BODY PART, her favourite body part of hers and also yours ellie quite likes her thighs. they're perfect for you, practically made for you. she loves having you sit in her lap, babbling on or getting fucked deep with her strap. she loves having you sit on her thighs like a little lapdog, or rubbing yourself off one, whining and huffing, waiting for her to do something to help. or perhaps she loves the way your head sits between them, looking all fucked out and doe-eyed at her as her hand is woven through your hair, stuffing your face back between them to eat at her cunt. ellie's favourite part of you is your hip/stomach area. she loves holding onto it, digging her fingers and bunt nails into your hips as she fucks you so deep with her strap, you clawing at her back and whining and moaning into her shoulder. she also likes tracing up and down your stomach to tease you, pressing little kisses in a row from your tits to your crotch before she tastes you, just letting you get impossibly more wet before she puts her hands and mouth exactly where you need her.

CUM, anything to do with cum really ellie's a creamerrrr!!! we all also are hyper aware of the breeding kink that this girl definitely has. she talks about her strap as if it's the real thing, pumping it into you, so pussy drunk she hasn't a notion of what words her mouth is spilling. "g'na fuck a baby into you, yeah? you want that, hm?" grunting and moaning as she shoves the strap right back into your hole, cooing at the way it swallows her whole. "fuck, jus' like that, mhm, gonna make you a mama." mumbling all these promises and swears that she has no intentions of keeping but in the moment, she'd want nothing more than to watch her own cum stringing through yours which is why she loves scissoring you too, her pussy planted on yours and listening to the wet squelches, it drives her crazy. the feeling of your cum (after your like third orgasm) melting into her own wetness. she can't control herself. she jus' wants to mix your guys' juices together 'n hump the shit out of you.

DIRTY SECRET, a dirty secret of hers bless ellie and her poor loser self. of course, ellie was the more dominant between you two, always ready to top you but before you'd gotten together, she had a dirty secret she'd hidden from you. you two had been close friends and sometimes you just drove her insane. not in an annoying way but more in a i-need-to-shove-my-hand-down-my-pants way. often times, she rubbed herself out to you. all she'd have to do is trail her hand down her boxers and suddenly her mind was on you, she couldn't even help it. she'd rub little circles around her puffy clit, your name muffled through her pillow. or in the modern!verse she'd be on her phone or even her laptop, a photo of you splayed out on the screen as she bit back her moans, her hand deep inside her, imagining it was your squelchy walls she was fucking into. "fuck me, y/n, jus' like that." even though you weren't doing anything. one time, you'd both been on the phone. it was late at night, your head resting against your pillow and your voice sounded so... raspy? it was all tired and babyish, you didn't even know what you were mumbling on about but ellie didn't much care for what you were saying anymore, too busy seeing stars as her fingers touched herself beneath the blanket. "els, you listening?" you'd mumble after not hearing much of a response in the past couple of minutes. "mhm." her broken hum. "jus' keep talkin', angel." and you would, innocently enough, not a clue in your mind of what the girl was doing on the other side of the phone.

EXPERIENCE, how experienced is she? does she know what she's doing? ellie knows exactly what she's doing for one of two reasons! if we're talking modern!verse, this girl has gotten around the entire college. every girl there knew ellie william's name along with a name of someone who she'd been with to match it. she wouldn't have shame either, if someone asked, they'd receive a vague but honest answer. but if we're talking tlou!verse, she knows things a different way. she'd seen some playboy magazine when she was on a run with dina, dina had showed it to her while laughing, thinking it was probably the funniest thing she'd ever found when on a patrol. but ellie could only flush at it, calling her weird before fishing around with other things. when dina wasn't looking, she slipped the thing into her bag. and then she began learning more and more and more. then she was on a run with you, ignoring the way you walked around all ditzy, almost knocking into something while she slipped porn tapes into her bag. best thing about going on patrol with you? she could take whatever she wanted whenever she pleased and didn't have to worry about you ratting on her. she didn't worry about you being a snitch partly because she trusted you but otherwise because she knew you were too distracted with your own loud mind to notice the suspicious things she was doing behind your back. so naive.

FAVOURITE POSITION, self explanatory it's no secret that ellie likes to toss you around the place. it's almost always like a game of chance with her, you just never know what you're going to get. one minute, she could have you in missionary, the next, you're sitting on her lap, bouncing to release any energy before bed or the next your face is smushed into the mattress. i feel as though she'd like this one a lot. she likes when your face is deep into the mattress, your ass hitting her crotch as she repeatedly fucks into you without any shame. ellie likes this because she feels like she has some sort of power over you and uses it to her advantage. "such a pretty slut, huh?" though her tone is all high pitched and slightly whiny, she couldn't help it, you just felt so good. she likes you in any position that she can bend you in half if she wants to and she wants you to know that she holds this power, not to be scared by it but she thinks a little intimidation isn't any harm.

GOOFY, is she humorous in the moment? does she make jokes? ellie makes a couple jokes here and there but nothing too significant. i think the only time that ellie would truly laugh at you is when she's in the middle of humiliating you. and even then, she does it only because she knows you like it. she'd never laugh at you in a way that would make you feel insecure but she can't help but chuckle against your collarbone when she mutters things about you being a pathetic whore for her, you only moaning response. afterwards, though, is a whole different story. she has a tendency of making fun of you afterwards as a little joke or when you joke around saying you don't like her or whatnot, she always finds a way to bring your previous nights events into the conversation, sometimes in front of jesse or dina who, at this stage, are used to ellie's antics. one time, you and ellie had been in bed afterwards and you'd made a joke saying that she didn't know what she was doing to which she started mimicking your moan. "oh, ellie! ellie! please lemme cum!" "shut up, ellie!" slapping her arm and trying to pretend that you weren't turning flush at the fact that you had said everything she had, much more.

HAIR, how is she groomed? does the carpet match the drapes? ellie shaves but i don't think she'd do it regularly. if anything, she trims. she often has hair on her pubic bone or around that area but with that being said she isn't big on shaving the rest of her body either. body hair never bothered ellie so she doesn't really care for it. it never bothered her on her arms or legs so she supposed it being down there didn't really bother her either. she also doesn't mind how or when you shave. if you want to be completely bald, be her guest, if you want a bush, go you! she really doesn't care. as i said before, hair really isn't a big deal to ellie.

INTIMACY, how is she in the moment through romantic aspect? as stated before, ellie can be a bit of a goof. but other than that she can be romantic. ellie sort of switches everything around, she's never truly the same. one day, she could have a candle or a bubble bath, on valentines she may even have rose petals. other times, you could both be clad in most your clothes and trying to contain your whimpers in a dark alleyway. sometimes, she can be awfully romantic, almost poetic even. other times she completely and utterly violates you for both your guys' enjoyment. with ellie, it's like opening a surprise easter egg. but if you'd asked her to be 'slow' through your muffled moans, she'd sort of get the hint. then, everything would turn a little romantic. she wants to make sure you're comfortable with whatever she's doing, always. and if you don't feel like being rough one night, that's okay, or if you feel that the romance is too much, that's okay too. she's your at your service, no matter what it is you're feeling on that particular day or night.

JACK OFF, anything to do with masturbation as said before, ellie was a HUGE jack off before you guys got together. it seemed like everything you did would lead her hand down her own pants, getting herself off at the thought of you. but now that you two are together, she's calmed down a whole lot. well, to a certain extent. now, she doesn't feel the need to rub one out if she gets horny, she merely shoves you against a wall and put her hands down your pants. ellie doesn't masturbate often but when she does, you're there. whether it's her mouth on your cunt and she just can't help herself, sticking a hand down her boxers and getting herself off while her tongue works on you or whether she's forcing you to watch, all whiny and subby, begging her to let you touched her or yourself, but she doesn't, of course. so unfair :(

KINK, a kink of hers overstimulation is ellie's guilty pleasure when it comes to you. she loves loves loves the way you writhe beneath her, after your fourth orgasm already, too fucked out to say anything. she has her hands on you at all times, never slowing her pace even when your back is arched and your eyes are filled with tears. "shh, baby, you can take it." pumping her fingers or her strap back into you. "take it, angel, jus' like that." all sweet as you get so fucked out so quickly. she loves having you where you can't even utter a sentence, the only word falling from your lips is her name and it sounds like a prayer. you can't stop your fucked out babbles or your whines against her. she loves having you at her fingertips, ready to mold like putty. and she'll tease you for it too. "hm? i don' know what you're saying, pretty girl." pressing kisses to your body as you try get the words out only to be cut off by whimpers. but she's having the time of her life, knowing you're close to getting your words out and shoving her fingers back into you. "huh? tell me what you want, sweet girl, use your words." knowing that you cant. she gets so pussy drunk off the thought of you coming over and over, it seems as though she's never done with you. "can you give me another? mm, good girl, i knew you could." because she's also a slut for praising you. something about the way your back arches when she calls you her good girl.

LOCATION, where is her favourite place to do it no location is off limits to this girl. once she has you alone, she doesn't care, she's taking you. she always makes sure to coax you, making sure you're all relaxed and comfortable especially if it's not in your guys' shared bed. one time, she had her fingers inside you while you were laying across dina and jesse's couch, the couple upstairs doing god only knew what. another time, she had you inside the bathroom of your parent's house while they waited for you both to rejoin them for dinner. she was like an animal. ellie really doesn't care for where you guys do it as long as you're somewhat comfortable. what she wouldn't want, is you doing something that you didn't want to. don't get me wrong, of course the bathroom wasn't a comfortable place to do it but you needed ellie then and there as much as she did so you let her hand sneak up your skirt. but, as always, there truly is no place like home, she loves having you on your guy's bed, sheets all messy and dirty as you make a big mess on them. this way, she doesn't have to worry about anyone hearing you both or walking in or even making that big mess that she loved you making.

MOTIVATION, what turns her on and gets her going your teasing. although, she's sure that half the time you don't even mean to tease her, it just happens. when you're sitting on her lap, looking up at her with 'those' eyes though of course you have no idea what in the world she's talking about. or perhaps you're looking for something and let out a small noise under your breath, you often do this when you have to get up from the couch but you really don't want to. this causes her ears to perk up and the hair on her arms to stand. she's suddenly hyper aware of your body. or perhaps you're leaning down to pick something up, your skirt up slightly giving her a little show. half the time you haven't the foggiest that you were even showing anything. but ellie knows, every time you're going to pick something up after dropping it, her eyes are trailing all over your body even if you're merely clad in a jeans. she claims that the reason she turns wet is because of your teasing but you and her both know that she'd chalk your breathing up to teasing if she could.

NO, something she wouldn't do, turn offs pick this as you please, there's no kink shaming on this blog ! 🩷

ORAL, preference in giving or receiving, skill, ect ellie eats pussy like a starved woman. she doesn't care how sloppy or messy it gets, her tongue won't stop until she's taking in all your juices. in fact, the sloppier the better. she wants you to write beneath her, her arms holding you down and her nose bumping off your clit. she eats like it's her last meal, like it's the last supper. but that doesn't mean she doesn't like getting eaten too. even when she is, though, she's seemingly always in control. she'll grab a fistfull of your hair, making a makeshift pony tail and looking down at you. she's sure that she could cum then and there. she moves your face against her, not letting you do any of the work aside from the fact that you were the one doing the giving. she loves the way you close your eyes, whimpering sending shockwaves through her body as she practically face fucks you, riding and getting herself off from your tongue. sometimes, she'll tell you to touch yourself as you do it, watching as you use your hand to try get yourself off while tasting her. she doesn't stop until she sees her cum and drool dribbling down your chin, it's surely a sight for sore eyes. she's sure then and there that you may actually be an angel.

PACE, is she fast, slow, stamina, ect the thing about sex with ellie is that she likes to feel good but your feelings are her one priority. before anything begins for her, before she even thinks of feeling good, she wants to make sure you've cum at least once. with that being said, when the time does roll around that she's tying the harness onto herself, positioning her strap in front of your already sopping hole, she's only just beginning. you've already been through multiple orgasms and she's only just preparing for her first one. you're all wet from cum, sticky and messy allowing her to slip the strap in with ease. she'll be so hyped while you lay all fucked out on the bed. naturally, she has more energy than you seeing as you've had multiple orgasms whereas she's merely starting now. she's usually rough and fast and can last a whole lot longer than you cab. but at the end of the day you're also her angel so she makes sure to check on you and make sure that you're actually able to withstand another round. 

QUICKIES, her opinion on them? how often? ect ellie doesn't care when it comes to who, where or what. if ellie's horny, she's making sure to take you down with her. as soon as she feels that wet splotch on her boxers or that feeling building up in her stomach, her hands are on you in a teasing way, or speaking to you in a tone that would have your cheeks hot as ever, attempting to get you the very same way she was. she doesn't care where you are, who you're with, anything, all on her mind is getting that sweet release. she's had you in the bathroom of the tispy bison, her hand on your mouth to muffle the sounds as she shoves her strap inside you. yes, she wore it out. "shh, angel, gotta be- mmgh- q-quiet, 'kay?" making sure she's just as rough as usual but also the fact that you were in a public bathroom running through her mind. "can't let anyone catch us." but that doesn't mean she slows the assault on your cunt, fucking in and out of you as roughly as she can, her hand falling from your lips and replacing them with her own. she pushes her tongue between your lips, your head against the wall as she swallows all you sounds, letting you be flush against her as you find a familiar knot inside your stomach. she'll have you coming on the counter of the locked public bathroom of the tispy bison. truly, no flat surface is off to ellie when she's horny, no matter the place. it's just a matter of coaxing you into being as careless as she is.

RISK, is she game to experiment? does she take risks? this girl is insane. ellie is possibly the riskiest person you know, and sometimes it scares you. to ellie, nothing is off limits, nothing is out of the question and by no means is anything impossible. she's finger fucked you under a blanket while you're friends have been in the same room, she's had you sat atop her lap in the back of a tour bus (band ellie!verse) while all your other band members are at the front. she realises that they're distracted and decides that nobody is going to be letting her give this chance up, her strap is under your skirt, peaking out from her jeans. or, there's a vibrator in your pants while your parents are sat across from you at the dinner table, having no idea or what you were trying to keep down. the last thing you needed was to be moaning at your mother and father while they were eating their sliced carrots. ellie loves seeing you get all shy, trying your best to keep yourself neutral enough so no one would suspect a thing, whether it's at the dinner table or merely coming back from the bathroom at dina and jesse's, not meeting their eyes and when they ask what's wrong, you have to say it's because you're feeling a little ill and not the fact that you'd just been pressed against their sink, ellie's head between your thighs. of course, ellie always excuses you then because of your sudden 'sickness' and brings you home where she can take out her strap, finally getting you where she wanted.

STAMINA, how many rounds can she go for? how long does she last? as you can tell by ellie's muscle, she works out. and even if she didn't, she still has the upper hand of going on patrol almost every day. moral of the story? ellie's fit, and not just in the way that she's drop dead gorgeous and could have any girl foaming at the mouth by a mere stare, but as in she's physically fit too. she's spent her life running from zombies, she's taken down multiple clickers all by herself. this girl is one of the strongest people you know, which is exactly why she has so much more stamina then you do. she has no shame in the fact that she can go on for so many more rounds than you can, if anything, she's proud of it. and you, the amazing, beautiful, sweet girlfriend that you were, wanted to make sure that ellie got as much roughness out of her as she needed. sometimes, you'd just lay there, fucked out and hazy as she pumped into you over and over. you were her toy, a doll for her to use as she pleased and she was forever grateful. this way, by the time she was finished, you were completely exhausted but she too was tired, knowing she lasted as much as she could.

TOYS, does she own toys? does she use them? of course ellie has her strap which she just loves fucking you with. there truly is nothing better than having you beneath her after a hard day, roughly shoving the strap in and out of your hole, holding you still and grumbling to herself about how hard her day was. there you were, her own little toy for her to play around with. you always were. in a way, you are her toy. she uses you to her own advantage, whether she wants slow, sensual or rough and hard sex. she uses your body as she pumps the strap in and out of you, sometimes substituting it for... something else. she owns a dildo now, not for her, just for you. she'd bought it online/found it on patrol (depends which verse) when you guys were together and she couldn't not buy it/bring it home to use on you. she holds you close while she pumps the thing in and out of your sopping cunt, using your body like a toy. "doin' so well." she'll mutter against you, wanting you to feel the 'dick' go in and out of you without being distracted with the cloudy pleasure of her own. "take the whole thing, baby, take it." and she wouldn't spare any room, making sure your clit is pressed against the base, making sure you took it all. "atta girl."

UNFAIR, how much does she like to tease? ellie loves to tease. she loves it because she knows it'll get you exactly where she wants you in the end. she'll have you all subby and needy for her, hands pushing at her biseps, attempting to grasp her strong upper arms or your legs writhing against her head or perhaps she has you seated on her lap, riding a large wet splotch onto her grey sweatpants. whatever the case, she makes sure you're verbal, telling you that you must ask before you cum. being her good girl and obeying her rules, of course you ask before you cum, when you feel the knot in your stomach. you're so fucked out that you hadn't even processed the possibility that she'd say no until she does. you get all whiny so quickly, pleas and begs already falling from your lips. you can't help but beg her to let you get yourself off or start touching you again after she's stopped. later that night, she'll have your head in the mattress as her fingers repeatedly hit your good spot. "too much." you'll cry, everything feeling too much as her fingers hit the back of your gummy wallls. "you asked for this, princess." she'll remind you. "so just take it like a good girl, yeah?" never stopping her constant attack to your already leaking cunt.

VOLUME, how loud is she? what sounds does she make? for ellie, it varies. sometimes, she's loud, sometimes she's quiet, truly it depends on what type of sex you guys are having. but every time without doubt, she's grunting. ellie's a grunter and she has no shame in it. she'll grunt things into your ear, things she can't control like swear words and curses with the occasional whimper. "f-fuck, feel so good, n-nghh~" strangled moan leaving her lips as her 'dick' is deep inside you, trying her best to stay in control but it's just so hard when the base of the strap hits against her clit and gives her just the right amount of stimulation. or perhaps she's finding it so difficult to keep her noises at bay because she's sure that the strap is real now because she can feel the way your hole squeezes against her, swallowing her whole. "good girl, good girl, good girl." chanting it over and over when she feels herself coming, her entire vision going white while also trying to keep control of steading your hips, holding them in place as you try to writhe away.

WILD CARD, random head cannon ellie + plushie + you = heaven. hear me out. ellie loves the fact that you own so many plushies (even if she's threatening to fight them all off for your love) she won't let you cuddle one of them if she's around because she gets jealous, obviously, because only ellie would get jealous of an inanimate object. but when she's fucking you good, strap deep inside you and you're all teary, crying out for her, she has one of your plushies in her hands. she's handing it to you, cooing at you to hold onto it and 'squeeze' while she pumps in an out of you. it drives her crazy. the way you stuff your head into the plush of the teddy, screaming her name over and over as your legs wrap around her waist. but of course, she can't let the plushie have all the fun. she's grasping at your face, pulling it out from the plush. "none of that." she'll mumble, only wanting you to grab at it, not hide from her. "wanna see your pretty face." and she'll watch as your cheeks heat up, feeling impossibly more shy under her stare. she loves the way you grasp at the plushies from her hands, feeling all needy for her and needing something to hold onto. or perhaps she's having one of those days where she sits with a blunt in her hand, watching as you sit yourself on one of the plushies, riding out your own high while she watches you with low red eyes. ellie just loves those plushies (not when they're taking away all of your attention, though.)

X-RAY, what's going on underneath them clothes? a dark purple strap. she knows that you go absolutely feral for her strap and she has no shame about it. she makes sure to have you on your knees every once in a while, your hair caught in her hands as she pumps your head up and down, forcing you to take the strap like the good girl you are. and of course, you do. you listen to her mumbles of praises as you gag around the purple silicone, teary and doey eyes looking up at her as if it'll make you feel even better and when you catch sight of her own eyes rolled back, you do, the feeling of the base hitting against her clit just becoming too much. she'll throw her head back, still clasping onto the back of your head. even when when you're the one pleasing her, she's still in control, dominating you as she pleases and you'd be lying if you said you didn't adore it. ellie also has a very toned stomach and she's awfully proud of it, but what makes her even prouder of it is how feral you go over it. when you're babbling, trying to focus yourself on the dildo she's pumping in and out of you but you're pressing sloppy kisses all over her torso or perhaps she's sat you up on it, watching as you did everything in your will to ride out your high on her abs, knowing you couldn't get anywhere with the sloppy feeling of her skin. you couldn't get that friction you needed to finish, so, as always, you ask ellie for her help. and she's more than happy to comply.

YEARNING, how high is her sex drive? ellies a dog. you know this, she knows this and she has no shame whatsoever. she blames you, though, every single time without doubt, she blames you. you could barely be breathing slightly off and she'd use that as the reasoning for the fact that she needed you pinned down beneath her. "you were giving me the fuck-me eyes, baby." she'd inform you as she laid on her side next to you afterwards, fingers brushing up and down your arm with a grin on her lips. "how?" you'd barely mumble, voice sort of raspy from screaming her name for all the neighbours to hear. "y'jus were." she'd tell you, not elaborating any more on the fact. she'd often times blame you for the way she got so horny quickly, then again who else was to blame? and you were sort of glad that she blamed you and not the air having some weird pigment in it or something. this way, you knew she was focusing on you and only you. though, ellie did often times make up crazy excuses as to why she needed to dick you down in the next five minutes. "i read somewhere that today's national lesbian sex day so..." kicking a rock under her shoe. "you said that last month." you frowned at her. she rolled her eyes. "your ass just looks really good in that skirt, baby." once again, always your fault.

ZZZ, how quickly does she fall asleep afterwards? ellie takes such good care of you when you've both finished. she knows that sometimes she can be a little extra and sometimes it can get too much for you. but the beauty in having sex with ellie is what comes afterwards, knowing that she's there to wrap you up in her arms after a nice bath. she'll wash you, though she's tired the only thing on her mind is making sure that you're okay. she's always taking good care of you, reminding you that you're her sweet and pretty girl, when you guys are fucking and when you guys are finished. then she'll get you into bed, making sure you're all snuggled up. there's nothing like getting into bed with ellie after getting all clean, a fresh set of pijamas on your body and your hair damp. she'll hold you from behind, whispering little things to you despite the fact that she too is tired. but the thing about ellie is that she likes to make sure you're asleep first. she'll take notice to your heartbeat and your breathing patterns and finally, when everything slows and ellie knows you've found yourself succumbing to sleep. only then will she find herself drifting off too. 

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

[nothorses]

Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I just thought I’d ask because Google isn’t very good-

What are some things that happen on T that you dont expect/think will happen/surprised you?

I know the obvious stuff like voice dropping and hair and muscle growth being easier, but idk what to expect other than those bits and I’m a bit nervous.

Sorry to bother you, have a lovely day! 💚

Ooh, okay. This is exactly why I kept a journal.

lemme start with the most helpful bit of info I received pre-T:

Skin oiliness/acne

Everyone has different experiences with this; personally, my acne actually cleared up completely for a few months when I first started. Now it’s back, and worse, but I’ve noticed it’s mostly around my mouth and chin- where beard growth is beginning. Also, upper back and shoulders. Those areas seem to be the typical ones, from what I gather.

I am definitely oilier, and I definitely need to shower every day. I recommend getting lotion for your back, and some kind of scrubber, and washing your face morning and night to deal with oiliness. I use basic face wash, toner, and moisturizer, plus I exfoliate and use a hydrating face mask 2 or 3 times a week. And benzoyl peroxide cream for the zits. That’s what was recommended to me & it’s working pretty well, but ymmv!

Cessation of menstrual period

This also varies for everyone, especially between gel and injections. I’m on injections, and mine stopped about three months in. It was also kind of a petering out; they might get longer or less intense for a bit before they stop entirely.

Body fat redistribution

This one takes a while and isn’t super immediately noticeable, but working out helps speed this process along. You may also gain weight when you’re first starting T, and most folks’ appetites increase as well. Mine certainly did- but then I started Adderall not long after, which has lessened it again.

Vaginal atrophy

This just means you begin to produce less fluid & tighten up. Lube is your friend, prep is your friend, just be kind to your stuff. You shouldn’t experience any pain or significant discomfort, but I was sort of dry/itchy for a month or so near the beginning, and lube helped with that. Talk to a doctor if it keeps going on and doesn’t get better in time.

Increased muscle mass/strength

This one can take a while to start, but I’ve heard that it can be tough to know your own strength when it does. Again, working out helps!

Changes in libido

My libido increased fast and hard. You will not be uncontrollable by any means, you will not become a sex-crazed beast, you will not lose your faculties or any of that shit people sometimes try to scaremonger with. It’s literally just that your regular hornyness happens more often, and might feel stronger as well. It’s also normal for orgasms to feel different after some time on HRT; less full-body, more specific to the genital region.

Some folks also talk about shifts in orientation. In my experience, the orientation thing has been true, but only because I feel more comfortable in my own body now! I’m more comfortable with the idea of physical relationships because I’m more comfortable with existing and being perceived physically. I have a better read on who I’m actually attracted to because I’m not on eight planes of dissociation from my own emotions and sense of attraction. It feels better, and more true to who I actually am.

Facial/body hair growth

This varies for everyone too! Body hair starts to thicken and spring up in new areas; I noticed it on my lower abdomen first. My leg hair seems to be darkening and thickening a bit, too. Facial hair can feel itchy and even hurt a bit when it first starts, but essentially it’s your peach fuzz starting to thicken up and grow longer over time. It can also be sort of patchy and inconsistent, and it can take multiple years for it to fill out into satisfying beard hair.

Give it time! Shaving won’t speed things up, but getting shaving materials a few months in isn’t a terrible idea. The patchy/inconsistent/whispy growth isn’t everyone’s favorite look to rock, and shaving can be a validating experience. Personally I like to let things grow, since I live alone and nobody sees me without a mask on, but it’s nice to have the option.

Bottom growth

I think this is weirdly one that folks don’t really talk about, but it is one of the more significant changes! Things may feel pretty sensitive pretty quickly (mine started within the first month) and it’s helpful to wear bottoms with some space in those first few months after you feel bottom growth starting. It can definitely be painful at times- that’ll chill out after a while, though.

I don’t want to get super explicit with this post, but it will essentially look a lot like a very small penis after some time. You need to take care to clean it- rinse, and use very basic, unscented soap very sparingly- and keep in mind that you may be prone to UTIs. Cranberry juice won’t do much, but cranberry pills will!

Deepened voice

This also started very early for me. My throat was sore almost immediately, and while there was no noticeable change in my voice, the soreness kept up almost constantly for months. My first “drop” was during my second month, though usually that happens the third month.

My voice was kinda scratchy and weak for a while, and it was hard to figure out where to speak; it sort of felt like I was just more inclined to use a lower register most of the time. Gradually, the higher part of my range started to become... “locked”? If I tried to speak too highly, my voice would squeak and crack. Now, it’s naturally much deeper, and I can’t speak above a certain register at all. There’s just no sound!

It can help to learn to speak from your belly, not your head, if you want your voice to be deeper. You may also notice that certain ways of speaking and certain inflections read differently as your voice changes; a lot of voice training for trans men is about using a flatter inflection. How you want to sound is entirely up to you, and there’s no wrong way to speak.

Also, low-T can make the voice change process easier and help preserve your singing voice, and may be worth looking into if that’s important to you. Changes will happen more slowly overall on low-T.

Hair loss/male pattern baldness

This was the one I was honestly afraid of, but the nurse I spoke to is also on T, and what he told me was that “hair loss” just means your hairline shifts to a more masculine shape. Nothing scary! Male pattern baldness is also determined by genetics; look to male family members for predictions on when that might set in for you, if it does.

Hopefully there’s some helpful info in there! It’s also 2am now, so I might just be unintelligible. Good luck, friend, and if you’re starting soon, congrats!!

[frostedfaves]

Earned It

Masterlist

Pairing: dom!Rosa Diaz x sub!fem!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Rosa, and she has one for you.

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, minors blocked if caught interacting!), dom/sub, overstimulation, penetration, sex toy use, daddy kink, choking, marking, unedited fic bc I’m lazy

A/N: this smutty little thing here was very much inspired by some asks I received last night on @frostedfavesnsfw that I’m very grateful for, and please continue to send your wildly kinky thoughts. I would love to do some more kinky wlw shit and also I just love reading them lmao

-

Rosa made her way through the door of your shared apartment, her brow raising as she took in the scene before her while turning the lock and setting her bike helmet near the coat rack. The place seemed dark aside from the two lamps on either end of the couch, and you’d left a shot of alcohol on the coffee table with a note that read “catch up to me!”. She shook her head with a chuckle and drank it in one go.

“Baby, what’s this all about?” she called out after clearing her throat, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh.

“Just welcoming you home properly!”

You emerged from the darkness into the living room as music began to flow from the speaker in the corner of the room, and if Rosa hadn’t set the shot glass back down when she was done, she would’ve accidentally smashed it in her fist. Her eyes widened as you came into view wearing nothing but her favorite leather jacket, the one you’d purchased on her birthday months ago, and her jaw tensed as she came to terms with just how much she loved seeing you in her clothes.

“Come sit on Daddy’s lap,” she practically growled, watching as you skipped over to straddle her with a grin and digging her sharp nails into your thighs once you were settled. “This all for me?”

“Happy anniversary!” You leaned in to kiss her, sliding your hands into her hair as hers shifted to grab onto your waist. “What do you think?”

“I think we won’t be leaving this apartment for a while.”

She moved her head to attach her lips to your neck instead, sucking and licking the skin near your clavicle in a way that had you bucking your hips against her, but you pulled away with a gasp when you felt a bulge beneath you.

“You thought you were the only one that planned something?” she teased with a smirk, grabbing your hips and guiding you to grind against it again and chuckling as she watched you give in. “You want it already, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” you rasped as your eyes fluttered closed, holding onto her jacket as she continued to guide you in the rhythm she set.

“That’s it, keep going. Let me hear you.”

Even with the loss of her touch, you continued to rub against the bulge in her jeans, forcing yourself not to muffle the sounds that escaped. You felt her palms rubbing against your back as she slipped under the jacket, pushing you forward and holding you in place as she began to mark up the skin between your breasts, eventually turning her attention to your nipples. You arched into her more as she took her time with each one, wrapping her lips around it and soaking it with her tongue in a way that seemed to measure up to the mess you were creating in her lap.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, slowing down because you could feel yourself about to cum, and you didn’t want to suffer the consequences doing so without permission on your anniversary. “Please, Daddy, I need you.”

“I know you do, kitten.”

You sat up as she unbuttoned her jeans and freed the impressively sized length, allowing her to grab your hip again to help you sink down on it slowly. Your breath caught a bit when you realized she was only halfway in, and you still had so much more to go.

“Come on, baby, you can do this. You’re taking me so well, just a little bit more.”

A whine that you may be embarrassed of if your mind wasn’t so damn fuzzy escaped you, turning into a low groan when you finally reached the bottom of the toy. Your eyes finally peeled open to meet Rosa’s, whining a bit more when you realized she wasn’t moving.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself, princess. Go on, I know you want to.”

You paused for a moment to make sure she wasn’t testing you before slowing raising yourself a bit and lowering again, repeating the motion until you had a good rhythm going. Rosa watched your breasts as they bounced along with your actions, occasionally thrusting up into you in a way that caused you to stutter in your own movements, a grin forming at the way your eyes watered while you scrambled to bring yourself back on track. Her eyes lingered on the scattered bruises she’d painted along your neck and chest, fingers holding onto the smooth leather of her jacket partially covering you and she couldn’t resist any longer.

You yelped in surprise when a sudden motion had you on your back on the couch, and a guttural moan fell from your lips when Rosa adjusted to the new position and began fucking into you deeper than you’d been able to get yourself off. Your moans grew in volume as she set a rough pace with her hips, getting cut off when the hand that wasn’t holding her up wrapped around your throat.

“You look so fucking good under me like this,” she growled out, tightening her grip a bit. “You’re mine, you hear me? Say it.”

“I’m yours!” you squeaked out, your eyes rolling back as far as they could manage to go and your legs beginning to shake as they squeezed around her. “I’m gonna--”

“I know, baby, come on. Give it to me.”

You couldn’t even count the number of thrusts that passed before you were suddenly seeing stars behind your eyelids, arching your back off the cushions and being pushed back down as Rosa kept up her relentless pace inside of you until she got you to cum again, hitting a spot deep that you never know you had until she was poking it over and over again. By the time you hit your third peak, your toes were cramping up from being curled up for so long, and you were breathlessly begging her to stop while holding her in place with your legs because she was fucking you all too well.

“There you go, princess.” 

She shushed you as she finally slowed down after your fourth orgasm, wiping away the tears headed for your hairline and leaning down to pepper kisses along your cheeks, nose and forehead as you caught your breath. She massaged her thumbs into your sides until you could properly inhale again, shushing you again as you whimpered while she pulled out of you and setting the ruined toy aside as she went to grab water for the two of you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled as she helped you sit up, leaning against her with your eyes barely opened as you drank from the glass.

“How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore, but I’m sure you knew that.” You gave her a weak smile as she snorted.

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll be right back.”

She held your jaw in place as she left a few more kisses on your cheek and hairline, helping you lie against the couch before getting up to go run a bath for the two of you. A grin formed on her lips when she turned on the bathroom light and saw the bubble bath bottle beside the tub and rose petals arranged carefully around the edge. She got the water running and the bath started, heading into the bedroom next to grab loungewear for the two of you and folding it carefully to place on the bed. Underneath your pile of clothing, she placed a ring that you’d picked out yourself months earlier without even realizing.

Seeing you wearing her clothes and showcasing marks she made herself only made one thing abundantly clear. She couldn’t wait for you to be hers forever.

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) ) 

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with. 

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist 

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.  

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your  hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.  

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.  

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.  

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

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[hoe-imaginess]

baby socks | hawks

Hawks x Reader

summary: Hawks isn't ready to be a dad. He doesn't think he'll ever be—but now, he might need to rethink some things.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: short and montage-y. follows the idea that Hawks realistically isn’t looking to be a family man, but might be converted... for reasons 

inspired by an idea from @gabb-yeet​ ty friend <3

⤰⤰⤰

After two long, stressful weeks, your concerns were no longer contestable. Two weeks during which you waited, and hoped, while your mind did manic rebounds between joy and fear.

A third week came and went without your period, and you knew then that there was no denying the truth growing inside of you.

A pregnancy test from the local drug store gave you final confirmation. The other two you took while riding a wave of denial reverberated the inescapable.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with Hawks’s baby.

And you had no idea what to do.

⤰

His visits were rare, but thoroughly cherished.

You loved to be in his arms, to feel the supple caress of his feathers around you; tickling a warm, blissful exhilaration up your spine. 

He loved your hands on him, and always esteemed their softness as you touched his temple or cupped his cheek, as though your gentle embrace extracted the day’s stress right from his skin.

Hawks could make you laugh as easily as anything. Your smiles came easy and organic—there was nothing more in the world he loved than to see your smile.

But now here you were, eyes hot with imminent tears as you showed him the pregnancy test, as he took a step away from you. He simply looked at you with bewilderment, then averted his gaze, somewhat shamefaced by his own shock.

“Wow,” he muttered, eyes and tone lacking any of the passion for this confession that you might have hoped for. “I… thought you were, ya know…” He gestured stiffly to his mouth, denoting your birth control, you guessed. “And we were careful–”

Hawks stopped then, noticing how swiftly the emotion drained from your face. He took a breath to dispel his confusions, and pushed his goggles up into his hairline so he could rub feeling into the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” he started, like he was trying to wrangle his thoughts back in line. You saw his gloved hands fidget about, eager for orientation. “Um… Well, I wasn’t really… ready for this.”

“Well, neither was I,” you returned, hoping to convey to him that you were the equal of his wariness in this dilemma; you had no ambition to bestow obligations on him.

The proceeding silence took a substantial toll on your already crumbling poise. His gaze took an idling perusal of the ground, at the space between you two, unwilling to meet your eyes.

Then, as if a saving grace to his discomfort, the pager at his belt sounded off.

Your heart stung at the interruption. He sometimes had to make your time together short on account of duty, but surely he could spare a minute more to discuss this—something of this magnitude. 

“I have to go,” he murmured, after reading the message on his pager. He was still reluctant to meet your eyes, but found a heartbreaking sadness in them when he did. He swallowed hard. “I’m… sorry.”

“Hawks,” you started, searching feverishly for the words that might keep him there with you. “I’m—We need to…”

“I know.” There was a flash of somber determination in his eyes, something that aspired to reassurance, but failed. “I’ll be back.”

His arm moved, almost as if to reach out and touch you. But he seemed to think better of doing so, and instead he moved to your window, and flew from it as he had a hundred times before.

Except this time, you watched him go not with an enthusiasm to see him again, but a despairing anxiety.

⤰

His return was a no less cumbersome affair.

Hawks sat on your couch, looked around the room with thorny cautiousness, as if he were in an unfamiliar environment, as if he no longer found peace in your presence like he once had.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, still partial to keeping his gaze lowered.

You’d sat down next to him on the couch, with a condemning distance between the two of you that made your chest tight with despair. You looked down at your feet, at the soft carpet beneath your toes, and curled them restlessly into the fluff.

“What do you mean?” you answered, even as you feared clarification.

“I mean… have you decided?”

Your head came up to look at him, a mounting trepidation quickening your pulse.

“Decided?” you repeated.

Realizing your apprehension, he perked up, and a flash of apology softened his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His hands hovered to assuage you, and that tender, sweet look in his eyes that you’d so missed made itself known. “Listen, I just mean… you said you weren’t ready for this either, so I just thought you’d be thinking... I don’t know.”

“Do you…” 

You trailed off. Was he really after a verdict? Was he asking not how you two might endure parenthood together, but rather, whether you two needed to at all? 

Your mouth felt dry; you wet your lips anxiously. “I mean, are you asking me if I want to…?”

“It’s your choice,” he amended quickly, but uncertainty still cast its shadow over his face, gambling with his otherwise assuring words. “Whatever you decide I’ll… I’ll do what I need to do.”

There was no enthusiasm behind his promise, only a reluctant acceptance. You’d hoped for so much more.

⤰

Hawks couldn’t join you at your prenatal appointments.

He tried, once, when not a minute after showing up on the same block as the hospital, he was spotted and swarmed by fans. Thinking better of making a move that might lead you to suffer some unwanted media attention, he pulled back.

Later, after you’d trudged through the appointment alone, he called you to apologize.

You told him it was fine, and that you understood his need for discretion during all of this. After all, any whiff of information that the press claimed from this situation might prove detrimental to Hawks’s career. He was young, and a top hero; even if the two of you weren’t married, you knew part of his appeal was his bachelor status. Even if you’d both decided on this together, you were still worlds apart.

And from then on, there was an unspoken agreement that you would have to traverse most of your pregnancy alone.

⤰

When Hawks wasn’t thinking about hero work, he was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you, and his relationship with you—how it had been so ideal and complete. It was an escape from the labors of his day that often times felt more injurious than anything. Seeing you remedied that. Your presence was alleviating; your affections curative.

But now when he thought of the relationship, the happiness was sabotaged by a cloud of uncertainty—uncertainty for the unknown. From the very onset of his hero career, he’d planned to strictly dedicate himself to the betterment of society, no matter his personal sacrifices.

But how faithfully could he keep to that philosophy when it would no longer be his sacrifice alone, but also yours? 

Hawks had thousands of admirers. Among them were beauties that would have undoubtedly been the apple of any other man’s eye: stunners who flashed him pretty smiles behind pretty lashes, flattering him with their worship and exaltation—but they were tributes he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t devote himself to one person when the rest of the country demanded preservation.

But you were the exception.

You two had met under such fleeting circumstances that he could have never guessed the journey on which the short encounter would take him. But then you two kept running into each other, over and over, until he’d found the opportunity to indulge the humor of it. 

Is this just a coincidence? he’d joked with you. Or maybe you’re plotting something? Understandably, I’m a little suspicious.

You’d laughed so sweetly in response: a laugh that made his face warm and his wings twitch.

He had little control over what happened next. The warmth had sprouted. It had all gone so well. Doubts and fears about indulging a relationship with you slowly dwindled to a dormant worry. You were always so understanding and accommodating; you never harped on his business, and never guilted him for prioritizing hero work when it was necessary.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

But now, he had no idea what to think.

His feelings hadn’t changed for you, not at all. But this was an impossible situation, with an impossible answer. He was going to be a father. That was an unavoidable truth now, one he had yet to completely wrap his head around.

He wished it were easy. He wished he could bask in the anticipation of fatherhood, that he could be there to encourage your enthusiasms and grant you his part in this endeavor. You deserved that. You deserved support and happiness throughout this. But he didn’t know if he could deliver. 

On patrol, Hawks saw mothers carrying their young infants in the street—something he’d given little thought or contemplation before. Now his soaring wings would come to a slow as he tried to imagine that it was you down there holding a baby in your arms, his baby; a baby with his hair and eyes—or maybe yours, or maybe a mix of both…

He’d shake his head and turn away from the spectacle, knowing his thoughts would spiral, and that they would serve only to distract him.

⤰

Hawks stopped visiting as often as he had been. It was a palpable evasion, and it cut you worse as the days went by.

He kept up with your texts, mostly. But the longer they went unanswered, the worse your anxieties grew. Whereas before an unanswered message would scarcely disturb you—he had a demanding job, after all—your reservations had all but crashed now. It left you in a state of unending worry; gut-wrenching conclusions toppling over one another until you’d exhausted yourself with grief.

You would spend hours curled up on the couch, waiting for his response, eager to be quelled of your dread. Didn’t he realize the longer he kept away from you, the worse you were for it?… The more guilt you felt for deciding you wanted to keep this baby?

Your hand would curl over your stomach, and you would wonder how something meant to bring so much joy had so far served only to bring you sorrow.

⤰

During a break in his late-night patrol, Hawks called you.

Bleary-eyed, you woke to the phone’s tuneful ringing, and reached for it clumsily on the nightstand.

“Hello?” you croaked once you’d answered the call.

As if he’d been idle, and not expecting you to answer, he cleared his throat. “Uh, hey.”

You waited, brain too fogged by sleep to think of your own mediation to the silence. It was then he realized that he would need to take the lead, lest he make this late-night disturbance in vain.

“Hey,” he started again, with hesitation. “I just… wanted to talk.”

“It’s late, Hawks,” you murmured, blinking away haze as you peered at your alarm clock. It was nearly past three.

“I know. Sorry. Listen, I…” The mere notion of elaborating on the toilsome thoughts in his head made his chest tight. The onslaught of guilt and confusion struck instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the self-condemnation constricting his throat. “I just…” Now his confidence digressed, his sentiments running faster than what words could articulate.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” he admitted finally, certain but woeful in his repentance. “I… guess I still don’t.”

You sat up in bed, let the blood flow evenly through your body to aid your thinking. “I’m confused too, Hawks, but I…” The thought of the turmoil you’d suffered all alone these last few weeks brought pitiful tears to your eyes, and a stutter to your breath. “I need your help.”

Touched by the sorrow in your tone, he raised his head to the night sky and breathed in his grief, then breathed it out.

“I know,” he said. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

For the next half-hour, you stayed on the phone with him, talking through mutual worry and braving the shame of confessing the anguish you felt because of his behavior.

He promised that he would take care of you. Both of you, he said. 

And you went to bed that night with a little smile on your face, hoping the soothing optimism you felt would last.

⤰

Baby socks.

It was baby socks that did it.

With his wings withered down from a particularly exhausting battle, thereby shedding the token of his celebrity, Hawks indulged himself by doing something he rarely did: take a trip to the supermarket. 

Still, it wasn’t something he did often. Even disguised in casual attire, sick mask and a hat complimenting the facade, there still remained a risk that he may be noticed. But the risk seemed worth it that day; the distraction that the mundane offered from his knotty thoughts was what he needed.

Still, wherever he went, so too did his anxieties, following him and reminding him of their need for resolve. In fact, maybe it was an unconscious decision that he ended up right here: staring down the baby supplies aisle, hesitation in his every step, almost as if the ground was hot coal. Unconscious, because part of him knew very well that despite the promises he’d made you, he still needed to come to his own terms with his convictions.

So it was part-obligation, and part-unbidden curiosity that pulled him down the aisle, his golden eyes giving a nervous perusal of the products on display.

He saw the rows of diapers, and tried to imagine using them: cleaning up an infant’s mess, suffering the smell. Hawks winced with a wrinkled nose. 

He’d rather endure one of those interviews, for that one magazine, of who the interviewers always asked about his political preferences, almost like they wanted him to say something controversial. He hated those more than anything, so to say it was preferable to changing diapers wasn’t a very good outlook on his imminent child-rearing.

He was on a path to conjuring up more unpleasant visions of fatherhood, when he came to the clothes section.

It was a parade of bright pastels and fuzzy cotton; animal-print designs and cheesy phrases glaring at him from every shelf. It was banal to the point of nausea.

But then, the baby socks.

He couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw them: ornamented with fluff and lace, so small and delicate that it was almost impossible to believe a human foot belonged in there. But it did; a baby’s petite, soft foot—his baby’s foot, would fit snuggly.

Hawks envisioned it, then envisioned it some more, the array of merchandise fueling his imagination.

Then there were the pacifiers. The beanies. The onesies—

He had a stupid smile on his face as he loaded his cart with whatever caught his eye.

⤰

Your water broke while Hawks was on patrol. 

He’d given you the number to his personal hero pager, with a promise that he’d leave work to his sidekicks if he was able and rush to you immediately. 

Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against him; an aspiring group of villains, all of whom used wide-range quirks that made their capture difficult, took the better half of an hour to subdue. 

By the time Hawks had done his work and left clean-up to the authorities, you were already in labor. And by the time he’d checked his pager for your emergency message—something he’d been doing almost hourly, now that your due date was close—and rushed to the hospital, all your work was done.

When he finally arrived, he was met by his newborn’s red cheeks and sweet cries. 

“A boy,” you breathed out with a tired smile, sagging into the hospital bed. 

Sweat streamed from your temple; dotted your brows and nose. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the sight of the little human in your arms, he would have moved in to worry over your fatigue. But there he remained transfixed, golden eyes going to pinpricks as he gave the baby a hard inspection; his shock morphed into excitement, and from excitement: joy. 

⤰

There was no paternity leave for heroes like Hawks. Crime in the streets demanded his attention almost as much as his crying baby. 

But it was a rare night that he could be home with you, taking his parenting duties in stride, and finding them far less strenuous than he would have ever imagined. 

In fact, he was starting to enjoy them. But the most treasured time was after all work was done, when you, him, and his son lay on the bed together, his little body between you two. It was restful, and strangely, to Hawks, the most at peace he’d ever been.

Whatever chores he’d done in his time with you fell far from the work you did every day taking care of the baby, and the moment you hit the sheets, an easing fatigue started to take you. Hawks might have indulged rest, if he wasn’t so engrossed in the spectacle his infant son was making. 

Hawks watched him with adoring fascination, his honed eyes taking in every little wiggle, every soft twitch, every gentle stretch.

“Look, look,” Hawks entreated, reaching over to nudge you from a much needed sleep. “He’s kicking his little legs.” 

You groaned quietly, kept your eyes shut. “He’s been kicking my insides for months now,” you responded groggily, but with the smallest of smiles. “Nothing new.”

Removed from all nuances that didn’t involve his son, Hawks was unfazed by your comment, and his enthusiasm continued undeterred. He lay there, the baby between the two of you, and watched his son test his little muscles for the first time.

The smile never left Hawks’s face.

⤰⤰⤰

[master-sass-blast]

Care and Trust: Chapter Two.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five -Chapter One

Summary: “--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

AKA you learn why you got called to Lin's office.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader

Rating: T.

Word Count: 4.2k.

Also, a huge thank you to @chromecutie for beta reading this fic in addition to all the others in this series! I would not have had the confidence to post any of HTH if she hadn’t assured me that I was doing the characters justice.

Lin’s office is a real, proper office; go figure, she’s the Chief of Republic City’s entire police force. It’d be weird if she didn’t have a proper office.

It’s an expansive, long room, with wrought iron support beams and a dark, wood panelled ceiling. A desk sits in the center of the room, right across from double doors. There’s a leather chair that looks like it’s worth more than your apartment behind the desk, as well as one to the side of the desk (presumably for visitors or reporting officers).

There’s a small sitting area to the left of the doors. Two couches are positioned across from each other, with a metal coffee table in between. On the opposite wall is a wardrobe --you’re putting money on a second set of armor and some clean casual clothes, given the horror stories Lin’s told you about messy crime scenes.

Aside from a third couch tucked into the corner of the room --it looks luxuriously padded, and you’re also putting money on Lin sleeping on that couch during long haul shifts--and a vase to the right of the double doors, the rest of the room is entirely utilitarian. Filing cabinets, bookshelves, a few boxes with active case files in them.

It’s Lin to a tee. Thoroughly practical, borderline spartan, but what is there is more than you could afford in a lifetime.

You politely turn down Ryu’s offer of tea or coffee, then set your massage table and bag on the floor. You pace a short circuit back and forth, mentally filing through what you know about Lin and how her body bears out physical stress. Any injury is liable to have aggravated her hip, given the body’s tendency to compensate to avoid pain. Combine that with her scars and her left side’s propensity to knot up… she’ll probably need some stretching and healing work before I could even try to adjust her--

The doors open again --and in walks Lin Beifong.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head back. “Let me guess --you didn’t have time to see a healer earlier, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

Lin’s eyebrows spike to her hairline. She blinks, then holds up her hand. “Whoa, no. I’m fine.”

“Cut the hippobullshit, Lin. Your personal secretary called me here--”

“It’s not for me,” Lin interjects. She glances behind her, then closes the doors before continuing. “It’s… for one of the younger officers. Something of a situation.”

Your brows draw together as you frown. “If they’re seriously injured, they should go to the hospital--”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He was…” Lin grimaces as her voice trails off, “...advised to see someone like you after getting injured during the dock explosion debacle, but he’s… not comfortable with the thought of getting adjusted.”

“Oh.” You blink, wind going out of your sails as the panic ebbs. “And… your assistant called me…”

“I asked her to,” Lin clarifies. “I know I can trust you to handle this right.”

Something warm and heavy settles in your chest at the thought that Lin trusts you, especially with the well-being of someone that’s clearly important to her. You gulp hard and ignore the way your eyes are starting to sting. “Oh. Thanks.” 

The sound of footsteps and chatter outside Lin’s office draws both your attention.

Ryu opens the doors and lets two young men in --one shorter and stocky, the other taller, leaner.

“--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”

“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

The assistant smiles knowingly, nods, then slips out of the room.

“Okay, sure,” Bolin concedes, still wincing. “But I promise, I’m totally fine.”

You hold up your hands and take a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Understood.” You staunchly ignore the way your pulse spikes when Lin sits next to you --Spirits, the effect this woman has on you--and turn your attention to the other man. You introduce yourself and extend your hand.

He takes it --firm grip, but not painful. “I’m Mako.” He nods to the younger man. “I’m his brother.”

“Ah, wonderful.” You smile warmly at the brothers. “How long have you two been on the force?” 

***

It’s easy to get the boys talking --or, rather, it’s easy to get Bolin talking.

Mako’s a harder platypusbear egg to crack, but there are small things to pick up on; the way he frowns whenever Bolin winces in pain, for instance, tells you he’s genuinely concerned about his brother. He sits a little straighter whenever he looks over at Lin, but he’s not sweating or cowering in front of her, which you take to mean that he wants to impress her, to earn her approval.

He’s also watching you closely --which is fair, considering you likely scare his brother.

You meet his scrutiny with a relaxed, polite smile and do your best to convey ‘I’m here to help, please trust me,’ through your eyes and posture.

Bolin’s far more relaxed around Lin --almost remarkably so. He leans back against the couch as much as he comfortably can, and actually jokes with her (or tries to, but he doesn’t seem deterred whenever Lin doesn’t respond with more than a twitch of an eyebrow).

You also catch him looking towards Lin whenever he talks about an aspect of his job, a hopeful smile on his face, which then broadens every time she nods or confirms whatever he’s saying.

Honestly, it’s adorable.

(Lin’s also an interesting one to watch in all of this. She’s still as stoic as ever, but she doesn’t roll her eyes at Bolin’s lame jokes or talk down to Mako despite him being miles lower in rank than her. If anything, the air you’re getting from her is… warm. Almost maternal.

It’s wonderful to see.)

“I’ve been studying for the detective’s exam, though,” Bolin chirps with a bright smile. “Mako says I’m doing pretty good.”

You grin, then shoot a playful glance at Lin. “And your thoughts, Chief?”

Lin smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. “They’re both green --but, with time and training, they’ll be excellent members of the police force.”

There’s no missing the way both boys glow under Lin’s praise; Bolin outright beams, and while Mako’s more subtle, you still catch the small, pleased smile that flickers across his features.

You smile.

There’s a brief pause in the conversation when Ryu walks in with a tea set. She sets it on the coffee table between the two benches, then leaves with a nod when Lin waves her off.

You murmur a quiet “Thank you” when Lin fills your cup, then turn your attention back to Bolin. Time to try and make forward progress. “So, what happened to your neck?”

Bolin turns his head to look at you --and promptly winces. “What? What do you mean? How did you know?”

“You’re not the only detective,” you say with a wink. You smile when he chuckles, then gestures to his neck and head. “You’re compensating. You’re tilting your head to one side to avoid using the injured muscles. You probably didn’t even realize it.”

Bolin’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He tries to straighten his neck, then grimaces and lets out a yelp. “Ow!”

“Just leave it be for now,” you interject, holding one hand out to stop him. “You won’t be able to force it to straighten out on your own. Best leave it to the professionals.”

He offers you a weak smile. “And that’s you?”

You smile and nod. “That’s me. I’m a chiropractor and massage therapist; I specialize in scar tissue treatment and injury rehabilitation. Started my degree at Atege Medical University in the Northern Water Tribe, then finished it here at Republic City Medical University, and then I did my training here in Republic City at Kyoshi Rehabilitation Center. About… oh, five years ago, I moved to the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility.”

Mako raises one thick eyebrow in assessment. “So that’s… what, seven years?”

You snort. “Flattering, but no. Try closer to twelve. Medical school and residency takes a long time for chiropractors, too.” You spare a moment to watch Bolin --he’s paled since you’ve started talking about being a chiropractor, and the rest of his body’s gone tense--then try getting to the point once more. “What happened to your neck?”

He grimaces and rubs the side of his neck. “I was at the docks when the explosion went off. I didn’t get hit by the debris or anything, but the shockwave knocked a lot of us over.”

You nod along. “That makes sense. Considering how close you were, the shockwave might’ve been enough to throw something out of alignment.”

Bolin grimaces. He hesitates, then offers you a nervous smile. “Look, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine. I promise! I’ve had tons of injuries before --used to do competitive pro-bending, all that jazz. I know how to handle these kinds of things: a little heat, some stretching, and everything will clear up before too long.”

“Street beat’s a physically demanding job,” Lin interjects. She arches an eyebrow when Bolin opens his mouth, then continues when he closes it. “I can’t have you on the duty roster if you’re hobbled.”

“Not to mention that if something’s out of alignment, you could make it worse by stretching,” you add with a concerned frown. “And things are likely to get worse without treatment, too. I know this isn’t your favorite idea,” you say with a sympathetic smile, “but it really is best to handle things early before they become bigger problems down the road.”

“It’ll be okay,” Mako assures his younger brother. He puts one arm around Bolin’s shoulders. “Chief’s the one who called her in; she wouldn’t ask some quack.”

The corner of your mouth turns up at the commendation, but your mirth fades when you watch Bolin cover his face with shaking hands. You cock your head to the side, listening, then purse your lips when you hear a quiet sniffle. “What is it about adjustment that scares you so much?”

Bolin shrugs (and winces), then waves his hand dismissively with an unsteady smile. “Eh, it’s nothing. No big deal to let someone jerk around your neck like crazy; not like it’s gonna break or anything.” He grimaces, then ducks his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “That’d just be stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you assure him. You duck your head so you can catch his gaze, then smile understandingly when he looks at you. “It’s not. Self-preservation is one of our most natural, baseline instincts. Besides, you’re hardly the first client to be scared of getting adjusted.”

Bolin straightens gingerly. “I’m not?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I work with a lot of trauma patients; several of them have anxiety over being touched and adjusted. And I’ve had a lot of people ask me about snapping necks, believe it or not.”

Bolin turns his head to one side and assesses you warily. “And… what do you tell them?”

“The truth: I don’t use remotely enough force to snap a neck,” you say, “nor am I working at the right angles to cause a break. It’s not as easy as all the pulp fiction novels make it seem.” When Bolin doesn’t relax completely, you start mulling over other ideas to help convince him. Chances are he’s never been adjusted before, given how nervous he is, meaning he doesn’t have any previous experience to apply to what I’m saying. Short of letting him watch an adjustment-- You snap your fingers when a lightbulb turns on in your mind. “What if… what if you could watch me adjust someone else? That way, you’d be able to see that it’s perfectly safe.”

Bolin quirks his mouth to the side. “...I guess. It couldn’t hurt.”

You nod, then turn to Lin. “Would you be willing to let me adjust you, since you’ve already been through it all before?”

Lin nods without hesitation, then smirks. “I’m guessing I’ll need to take my armor off.”

“Well, since I’d rather adjust your back than crush my hand, yes,” you quip back. You shoot a reassuring smile at Bolin, then stand. “Let me set up my table.”

...

Bolin, for all his warmth and magnanimity, doesn’t coax along easily. It takes adjusting both Lin and Mako before he agrees to it (who has scarring in his left arm from a lightning injury that he got, according to him, while taking down Kuvira’s giant mechadroid less than half a year ago, and if you get a little too caught up in analyzing his injury and talking about treatment plans and Lin has to remind you --albeit subtly--that this is her office and she has work to do, well, it’s only a tribute to your commitment to your career.

Anyway.)

Between the three of you, though, you manage to get Bolin onto your massage table so you can start working on him.

He grunts as you dig into the muscles that run along his neck. “I know what you said about not using enough force, but it sounds like you’re breaking something.”

“I get it,” you laugh. “What you’re hearing, though, is the release of gas that builds up in the joints and tissue, plus the joints and ligaments being adjusted back into place.” You let up for a moment so you can reposition your thumbs, then press down again.  “Okay, deep breath in… and out… good; just like that.”

Some light examination and prodding with your waterbender had revealed the culprits: stuck rib heads in the upper back, a few misaligned vertebrae in the neck, and some very irritated and inflamed muscles. Painful, but easy to fix with the right treatment.

You curl your fingers, using your waterbending to knead the muscles in Bolin’s right shoulder. “Oh, come on… I know you’re not happy, but if you could please relax for me…”

Bolin groans when the muscle finally unkinks. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”

“I bet,” you laugh. You bend the rest of the water back into your skein, then put some oil on his skin and start working the spot with your hands.

“Is it hard to work around injuries?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the massage table’s headrest.

You make the grunt equivalent of a shrug. “It depends on the location and what state of healing it’s in. Sometimes, it means I can’t do a normal adjustment --or do one at all, really; some injuries or scars mean that moving the joints and ligaments around would cause further damage to the site. Other times, it’s a matter of waiting until everything’s healed, and then I can do normal adjustments again.”

“How can you tell which to do --oooh, right there.”

Your lips turn up in a small smile, and you keep working a tense, knotted muscle in his upper back. “The patient’s medical history tells me a lot. X-Ray imaging helps, too, if there is any --and I can usually get a good feel for what’s wrong with my waterbending.” You keep going until the muscle releases, then pat Bolin’s shoulder. “Okay, I think you’re ready for adjustment.”

As expected, he tenses. His neck works as he gulps, and when he speaks again, his voice comes out high-pitched and thready. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t try if I didn’t think you’d adjust properly.” When Bolin doesn’t respond --or move--you kneel down so you can see his face through the hole in the head of the massage table. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take this nice and slow, alright? I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do before I do it.”

Bolin nods, gulps again, then flips onto his back.

“I need you to sit up so I can put the adjustment board under your back.” You slip the board into place, then put a pillow under his head before having him shift lower on the table. “Okay, good. I’ll adjust your middle and upper back first, like I did on Lin. You might feel some discomfort in your upper back because of how the rib heads are stuck, alright?”

Bolin nods, then offers you a feeble smile. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy for you?”

You wink. “I’m stronger than I look. Whenever you’re ready, cross your arms over your chest.” Once he does what you ask, you adjust his arms so they’re in the right position. “Okay, curl your chin down against your chest… good. Alright, it’s gonna be just like how you saw on Lin. I’m gonna help lift you up, I’ll put my hand under your back, and then I’ll lay you down so I can adjust your back. Sound good?”

Bolin clenches his jaw, but meets your gaze and nods minutely.

“Alright. You ready?” When he nods again, you do exactly as you said you would --help Bolin curl upwards, put your hand under his back, against the board, then adjust the position of your arm around his shoulders. “Alright, deep breath in… and out.”

The series of adjustments up his spine go without a hitch. You grin down at Bolin after the last adjustment and congratulate him for doing so well. “You took that like a champ!”

Bolin blinks, startled, then smiles. “Eh, I’ve been told I’m a quick learner.”

“Oh, you’re an absolute natural.” You grin when he chuckles, then step towards the head of the table. “I’ll give you a minute before I do anything else, but is it okay if I feel around your neck to see where the tension is?”

Bolin pales. His eyes go misty, but he nods regardless.

You murmur a quiet “thank you,” then put one hand on each side of his neck and start prodding at the muscles. “Well, it’s better after the massage work and the adjustment.” You rub your thumb against his trapezius muscle, then grimace when it refuses to relax for you. “Actually…” You take your hands off his neck and rifle through your bag. “I think I’m going to use an activator on your neck, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“What’s that?” Bolin asks, voice fraught with panic.

You hold the device up for him to see. “I use it to tap the side of your neck; it helps loosen up your joints so that when I adjust you, we get you back to your full range of motion.” You fire the device so he can see, and your stomach sinks when you see tears well up in his eyes. “I can use it on your forearm, if you want, soyou can feel how hard it’s going to be.”

Bolin swallows hard, then nods. He holds his arm up --then blinks when you press the tip of the activator against his arm and fire it. “Oh. I thought it’d be a lot stronger than that.”

“Tui and La, no,” you say with a laugh. “The neck’s a delicate instrument; I’m not trying to make things worse for you.”

Bolin smiles shakily, but it slips back to a frown after a few seconds. “Is… Will it hurt?”

“I’ve never had a patient complain before,” you say, sincere. “I’d be stunned if you felt any pain whatsoever from this.” You smile reassuringly when he gives you a questioning look, then place the tip of the activator against his neck when he nods. “Alright. I’m going to tap you a few times on each side of the neck, then I’ll take another feel at what your joints and muscles are doing. Okay?”

“Can you… give me a minute?”

“Of course.” You pull the activator away from his neck, then place a hand on his shoulder when he inhales shakily. “Hey, deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.” After a moment he nods again, and you press the activator back against his neck and fire it.

“...It kind of tickles.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “That’s a new one.” You finish working on both sides of his neck, then tuck the device back in your bag before putting your hands on his neck once more. “Alright, right now I’m just going to stretch your muscles some more and get your head into position, okay?”

Bolin clenches his fists at his side. “Could you --do you think you could give me a countdown before you, y’know, do it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, then shake your head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t want you tensing right as I try to adjust you; you’re liable to get hurt that way.”

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Lin says when Bolin lets out a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t have called her if she wasn’t the best.”

You duck your head to hide a shy smile, then try to focus past the warm glow spreading through your chest. “Okay, Bolin. Deep breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth… good, just like that.” You slowly turn his neck, angling his head until you feel the right resistance. “Tilt your chin up; I’m gonna stretch your neck a little.” You tug gently until the muscles loosen, then surreptitiously keep working him to the proper angle. “Good… just stretching… feeling everything out…” You adjust the position of your hands on his neck. “Another deep breath in, then let it all out.” You wait for him to exhale --for his shoulders to relax--then jerk his head to the side.

Bolin grunts, then shoots you a wide eyed look. “You said you were just stretching me?”

You smile apologetically. “I needed to make sure you were relaxed. Makes things better for both you and me. Did you feel any pain?”

“No,” Bolin says after a moment of consideration. “It felt… pretty good, actually.”

“Good!” You start massaging the other side of his neck. “You think you’re still alive?”

He chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m still breathing, yeah.”

“Good stuff,” you joke right back. “Means less malpractice suits for me.” You grin when he laughs, then start stretching the other side of his neck. “Let’s do this side, and then I’ll do your lower back and get you back to work.”

***

“Sorry that took so long.”

Lin waves a hand at your apology. “It’s fine. I figured the kid would take a while to calm down enough for an adjustment.” She offers you a small smile. “Thanks for making the trip up here.”

“Of course.” You resume packing up your things, then let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t you that needed an adjustment. I damn near had a heart attack when the receptionist told me your assistant called.”

“I told you I was fine.”

You shoot Lin a flat, unimpressed stare. “Right, because you’re the type to always consider the limits and needs of your physical well being.” You roll your eyes when she merely arches an eyebrow at you, then zip the carrying case for your collapsible table shut. “How does the department handle billing?”

“Send the bill to my assistant,” Lin answers, writing down the proper mailing address on a slip of paper before handing it over to you. “She’ll file it with the department’s insurance company. The department will pay out the rest.”

You nod and reach out to take the paper--

Lin holds it back. “Write the bill for all three adjustments. Clear?”

You smirk and pluck the paper out of her fingers. “Pay me more. Fine by me.” You grin when she rolls her eyes, then cast your gaze down to her desk.

It’s a nice desk. Solid, polished wood, with engravings and etchings of Earth Kingdom style patterns.

Unbidden, images of Lin fucking you on her desk --bending you over it, laying you out on your back, sitting in her chair while you bury your face between her legs--flood your name.

Lin either picks up on the spike in your pulse, or maybe she knows your facial expressions well enough to know when you’re horny. Either way, she smirks up at you. “Problem?”

“No…” You absently trace your fingers along the edge of her desk, then shoot her an impish smile before grabbing your things. “Call me when you have a free night.”

You can hear Lin chuckle behind you as you walk out of her office.

[winterscaptain]

permanent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: just in case you missed it, i published a family tree for the hotchners! at this point, jack is married to bella and living in d.c. she’s a journalist for the washington division at the new york times and is generally pretty awesome. as always, lemme know what you think!

words: 3.1k warnings: language, hospital setting, canon-typical injury

summary: “write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble” - benjamin franklin. au!december 2035

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Come on, Soph! Go, baby, go!”

Your daughter is a vision. She streaks across the field, her green and yellow uniform almost melding with the grass as she keeps control of the ball. You can’t see her face too clearly, but you know she’s scanning the field with the same intensity you see in Aaron’s face beside you. 

Isaac plops down on the bench behind you, home from Los Angeles for winter break. “How’s she doing?” 

Aaron half-turns his head, keeping his eyes on the field. “Going for a hat trick - if she makes it, it’ll be her third this season.” 

“Excellent.” 

Caroline, down the field with her choir group, lounges happily between the legs of one of her friends, eating popcorn. When she sees you looking, she waves at you.

You wave back for a moment before your attention’s caught by a collective gasp and Aaron’s hand shoots to your forearm. You turn back to the field, but you missed it. 

Everyone’s moving and you don’t know why. 

With shocking agility for his age, Aaron all but leaps down the bleachers and onto the field. Your eyes search for Soph, but there are too many people on the field, all of a sudden. 

Caroline’s standing on the seat of the bleachers, her friends steadying her with their hands on her arms and ankles. 

There’s a hand, soft and scared on your shoulder. “Mom?”

You open your arms, and your nearly-grown son ducks under it, curling into you as you stand. “Do you want your earbuds?” 

You feel him nod and you pull them out of your bag. His trembling quiets a little after he fits them in his ears. 

There’s a clamber, and Caroline appears at your side. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching.” 

She exhales, shaky and worried. “Where’s Dad?” 

“On the field.”

But where? 

You find Aaron, his salt-and-pepper hair stark in the autumn light. He’s talking to the referee, his brows low. 

You hear sirens. 

+++

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Mom?” 

You almost hate to ruin his mood. 

“Jack, honey, can you get down to the house at any point tonight?” 

You try not to grip the handle above the car door too tightly as Aaron races through the suburban streets, following the ambulance. Soph was definitely lucid when they loaded her up, but definitely in a lot of pain. 

“Ye - Yeah...Why?” 

“Soph’s headed to the ER - something happened on the soccer pitch today and her knee…” You shake your head. “I dunno. Her knee looks really bad.” 

“Fuck. Okay.” You hear him shuffle around and click his mouse - checking his schedule. “I can get down there after my last meeting at four - I’m headed there in a few minutes, but won’t be able to swing any earlier. I’d cancel it, but it’s literally SecDef and the Joint Chiefs and -” 

“That’s fine - I just need someone at the house with the kids until one of us can get back. Elliot’s at baseball practice until six and I’m not sure if -” 

“I’ll be there. I’ll get El and then I’ll swing by for Isaac and Caro if they’re still with y’all down there.” 

You glance over at Aaron and nod. He heaves a sigh of relief and mouths Thank you. 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

“Yeah. See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.”

+++

When you’re finally allowed in to see Sophia, her eyes are red and puffy with tears. Her right leg is braced and elevated at the knee. 

Her doctor explains the situation - dislocated knee and splintered patella with a torn meniscus and ACL. “This kind of traumatic knee injury poses a couple of issues…” 

He explains that the rehabilitation and surgery needs for both the ACL and meniscus are exceedingly different, and “It’s entirely possible Miss Sophia will experience permanent joint damage. However, we won’t know that until we have an orthopaedic surgeon look at it tomorrow.” 

“What about sports? Can I still play?” Soph tries to sit up farther, but Aaron’s arm shoots out, locking her against the bed across her shoulders. 

The doctor looks hesitant, and it’s all she needs to burst into tears again. Aaron moves, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms. He looks over her head at you and your lower lip disappears into your mouth as you meet his gaze. 

You shift your attention to your other children sitting patiently behind you.

Caroline’s practically bit her nails to the quick - her hands looking more and more like her Aunt Emily’s as the moments pass. 

Isaac’s been sitting in the wide windowsill for the entire afternoon, his headphones on, staring out the window, his mouth tight and fingers tearing into the foam stress ball you keep in your purse. 

We’ll need another one of those. Or five.

 You get a phone call, and you step out. “Hey, Jack.” 

“Hey. Just got Elliot. We’re headed over to the hospital now. How’s she doing?” 

You sigh and press a hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, shit. That bad?” He asks. 

You don’t comment on his tell pickup. It’s in his blood, at this point. “Yeah. She’s definitely out for the rest of the season, and we’re looking at some long-term stuff, too.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Hey! I’m still here and she’s gonna kick your ass if you keep swearing in front of me, dude.” Elliot shouts from the back and it almost makes you smile. 

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you, Jack. We’ve got a dislocated and splintered patella in addition to a torn meniscus and ACL. It’s going to be a long rehab.” 

You hear a deep sigh into the bluetooth system in Jack’s car. “Well, I’ll stay here for the duration.” 

“No, no honey it’s alright. Your dad is home full-time and you’ve got a huge project reaching critical stages. Your room is all ready for you, but you really don’t have to hang around if you can’t manage the drive every day. And Bella -”

“Bells is looped in. She’s fine. She’s more than happy to tag out if we need to. Her deadlines are really loose right now what with the whole ‘nothing going on in Arlington’ thing this week. She’s heartbroken for Soph and wants to help where she can.” 

“Alright.” 

“Hey,” He huffs, sounding a lot like his dad. “I’ll let you go. I’ll text when I’m outside.” 

“Okay. Thanks, bud.” 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Anytime.” 

+++

Sophia’s sleeping when Alice and Hank come to visit later in the evening. Aaron went home a couple hours after Jack, planning to tag out with you later so you could get some sleep in your own bed before work tomorrow. 

Alice immediately embraces you, all but falling into your lap as you hold her. She’s shaking.

“Is she okay?” 

You push her back, smoothing some wayward edges at her hairline. “She will be.” 

Alice’s dark eyes fill with tears, and you brush them off her cheeks as they fall. 

“She’ll need your help, though. It’s gonna be a long time before we figure out what’s permanent and what’s not.” 

Alice nods and retreats, sitting in the plastic chair by Soph’s side, folding her arms on the mattress and laying her head on them. “Hey, Sofa,” she whispers, though Soph can’t hear her. 

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” you tell her. Sofa is a nickname Derek gave Sophia when she was little. No big meaning to it, but it stuck. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed there all night. 

Hank lingers by the door. In the shadow of the room, you could easily mistake him for Derek, but that concerned pull at the corners of his eyes screams Savannah. 

Eventually, he crosses the room and sits on the little lounger beside you. 

He takes your hand and you kiss his knuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted to spend your winter break, huh?” 

A little laugh leaves him. “Maybe not, but little Miss Thing over here dragged me out the door before I could get two words in edgewise.” He gestures vaguely toward Alice and you actually smile. 

“Yeah. In my experience, Morgan women don’t fuck around.” 

“You got that right,” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Savannah, fresh off her shift and still in her white coat and scrubs. She scours over Sophia’s charts and checks on her before sitting on your other side. 

“Do you want the bad news or the good-but-also-kind-of-bad news?” She asks, almost inaudible. You glance up at Soph but Savannah shakes her head. “She’s out - those pain meds will leave this entire visit a blur.” 

You sigh. “Fine. Hit me with the bad shit.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Savannah rests her elbows on her knees. “I’ve seen a knee injury like this exactly once before. No matter what you do, they can’t and don’t always heal right. She could need a mobility device permanently, even after she’s healed, and I can tell you now she won’t play again.” 

That’s okay. She’s okay. 

Better soccer goes than her life. 

Soccer is her life. 

You only know that Alice can hear everything when her shoulders start to shake. She doesn’t make any noise as she cries. She’s like her dad that way. Hank stands and places a hand between her shoulder blades, but says nothing. 

“Is that the worst of it?” 

Savannah nods. “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “The kinda good news is that she’ll be totally fine no matter what obstacles she may run into. She’s tough. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hotchner.”

She snorts. “Hell, I watched you bounce back from crazy life-threatening shit with a quip and a grin.” 

You raise your eyebrows and shrug. “I do what I can.” 

+++

Caroline curls into her father’s side, her double bed big enough to manage the both of them. It feels a lot like when she was little - she’d have nightmares or couldn’t fall asleep and Aaron would come and sit with her until her breath was even and slow.

“Dad?”

“Mhmm?”

“What’s Soph gonna do about college?” Caroline’s voice is small, nearly smothered in Aaron’s shirt. “She already has scouting offers and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure. We’ll all have to figure it out together, won’t we?”

+++

Aaron steps into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him. Alice, just as you predicted, snoozes next to Sophia, her head pillowed on her arms. Sophia’s upper body almost arcs around her and she managed to snag one of Alice’s hands in her adjustment. 

Those two…

Maybe he won’t escape the inevitable after all. 

Morgan-Hotchner? Hotchner-Morgan? 

He really only ever prepared to lose his name with Caroline. Soph always seemed far too… herself to take on a new one. 

We’ll see.

You’re asleep in the pull-out chair, your brow drawn and arms crossed over your chest. He approaches you as quietly as he can, putting his go bag down and sitting beside you. 

Much to his chagrin, you startle awake. 

“Sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” Talking through your yawn, you add, “Just had a weird dream is all.” 

Aaron pulls you close and you relent, tucking into his side with a hand pressed to his chest. 

“Did Savannah come by?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“What did she say?” 

You sniff a little, more from the antiseptic smell than any emotional response - that will come later. “Soph won’t be able to play again unless fuckin’ divine intervention or some shit comes along and fixes her knee from scratch, but she’ll be able to move around just fine with a cane or brace or something after a while.” 

Aaron can only imagine it now - fits and righteous anger about getting around the house, watching games from the bench - the list could go on forever. “She’ll hate that.” 

You hum in agreement. “Just another parenting challenge. Already have the rest of the gamut covered neurodevelopmentally, so we were bound to get a physical challenge at some point.” 

“Never more than we can handle.” 

Shaking your head, you note, “This one just might do us in.” 

+++

“I swear to God, if I see you in the office at all this week I’m gonna smash your kneecaps in.” Emily pauses. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You laugh a little and Soph sits up, her brow asking a question. 

You answer, pulling the phone away from your mouth. “Your Aunt Emily told me she’d smash my kneecaps if she saw me at the federal building this week.” 

Soph snorts. “Nice. We could match.” 

You reach over and tweak her nose. “We already match.” 

“Hey.” Emily grabs your attention again and you put your cell back to your ear. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be here. Stay home for Soph right now and I’ll sign off on it and turn everything in for you.” 

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you turned into Rossi, Miss I’m Past Retirement Age But Twisted the Bureaus Arm to Let Me Work Myself to Death.”

She laughs and hangs up, leaving you and Sophia alone again in the hospital room. She tucks back into her Jello, taking bites that are way too big. 

“How are you feeling, bug?” You brush her cheekbone with your thumb and she shrugs. 

“Can you hand me my headband?” 

You reach over and dig around in her back until you find the wide swatch of colorful fabric. She takes it from you and shoves it over her head, pushing her hair back with practiced ease. 

She’s just like her dad. 

What? Loyal? 

Yeah. But also chronically avoidant. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

She huffs, playing with her fingers. “I’m fine. I think.” Her breath is shaky. “I can’t really tell with all the meds I’m on, but it feels… really bad.” 

When she looks over at you again, her eyes are glassy, tearful. “I know I can’t play again, maybe not even run.” 

You reach out for her hand, but don’t say anything. 

“Momma…” She pauses, looking down at her blanket. “Momma, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I feel like I only know how to play soccer. I don’t know how - I don’t know if I want to do anything else. I’ve never thought about it before.” 

You run your thumb over her knuckles. “Soph, you can do so much. You have a great strategic mind - you think in these big, creative webs. It’s such an asset.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not profiling you, baby,” you tell her with a smile. “I just know that about you because you’re my daughter.”

Her mouth twists. “Right.” She looks down when her phone buzzes. 

“Who is it?” 

The corners of her lips tip up. “It’s Alice. She’s asking me if I want anything from the drive thru.”

You mirror her little smile. “That’s nice of her.” 

“Yeah.”

+++

“Alright so you have twenty nuggets, large fries,” Alice digs around in the bag, taking things out as she speaks. “And… a vanilla milkshake.” 

“God, I love you.” Sophia wraps her hand around Alice's head and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Alice laughs, deep from her chest. “Shit, Soph, if all I have to do to secure your love is get you crap chicken, sign me up.” 

“You could get damn close.” 

Aaron watches the girls sit beside each other in the bed, taking turns dipping their nuggets in the sauce. They’ve always been this way, exchanging barbs and affection in equal measure. Symbiotic in the extreme, one is never far from the other. 

You’re home, getting everyone else in bed and settled for the evening. Isabella drove in a night early - Jack’s headed back to D.C. apartment for a series of days-long meetings at the Pentagon regarding his latest project. 

Aaron’s excited to see her. It’s been a helluva thing to see his son married, even more surreal to know and love his son’s wife like his own daughters. 

His phone rings. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Bella.” 

Sophia looks over at the mention of her sister-in-law, and Alice looks beside herself with delight. As well as being a hit among the parents, Bella’s a winner with the kids, too. 

Some days, Caroline likes her more than she likes Jack. 

“Hey, Pops. Want to tag out?” 

“Sure. I’ll switch with you. How long do you want to be here?” 

He can almost hear her shrug. “Eh. I’ll spend the night. My column isn’t due until the end of the week and I’ve got it covered. Don’t need to work, don’t really need to sleep. Win-win.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

She hangs up before Aaron can respond, so he just pockets his phone and takes the loss. Sophia, after taking a sip of her milkshake, asks. “Is Bella here all night?” 

“Yeah, bug. She’ll be here.” 

Soph and Alice share a look. 

+++

“Well, Bella has more patience than I do,” Aaron says, dropping his go bag at the bedroom door. “She’s stuck with H&M for the rest of the night at the hospital.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad the girls have company, and fun company, at that.” 

“Fair enough.” 

The two of you quiet for a moment, and you tuck further under his arm, placing your hand over his heart. 

“Aaron?” 

His hand traces up and down your back, slow and steady. “Yeah?” 

“What can we do for her? She sounded so… defeated today.” 

And it’s true. You’ve never seen Soph like that, even at her lowest. If you were honest, it scared you a little. 

“We can be her parents. That’s all. And she’ll figure something out. If she needs to take a gap year, she’ll manage. She and Alice can search for programs together.” He sighs before he continues, leaning back to look at you. 

“All we can do is ask her what she needs and support her as best we can.” 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower​ @hotchslatte​ @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[berrynarrybanana]

got you pegged pt. 1

A/N: I am taking no responsibility for this. I don’t know where I went with this, but there will be a part 2 (I’m literally writing it right now) but I didn’t want to include the pegging just yet. Thank you @bfharry​ for the encouragement and for planting the seed in my head. I hope this is all that you’ve dreamed it would be. I hope to have the second part up soon! 

Thank you for reading! Also I didn’t proof read, I never do tbh. 

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, mentions of pegging, and sex dreams, and butt plugs. just so much filthy smut.

It all started with a dream. 

You woke up in the middle of the night, a light sheen of sweat collecting around your hairline and your panties soaked. It was such a filthy dream. Harry woke up after you, his hand falling to your back, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your back to comfort you. He thought that you had a nightmare or that maybe you were feeling ill, but it wasn’t that at all. His worried words fell on deaf ears. Images of Harry being fucked with a bright purple strap-on, screaming out for more, more, more kept flashing through your mind. When you finally broke from your daydream, you lay back down. You couldn’t look him in the eye. Where in the hell did that come from? You had never thought about pegging Harry before. There was never a discussion about doing that to him. There were a lot of late night talks about the things you wanted to try, but he never mentioned that. After catching your breath, you reassured him that everything was okay. You didn’t go back to sleep that night, you couldn’t. You were far too worked up. 

It happened again, a few nights later. This time, Harry was on his knees, his tongue sticking out as you guided the purple colored cock towards his mouth. He was gagging for it, his tan skin flushed and sticky with sweat. His hands were tied behind his back with one of his scarves. His bum was settled on his calf muscles and his hair was messy, like you’d been running your fingers through it. Moments later, Harry was leaning forward, trying his best to get his mouth on your newest toy. You wouldn’t let him. You slipped your fingers through the silky locks of his hair, pulling his head back as you clicked your tongue. He had been bad, he didn’t deserve to get what he wanted. 

Just as you were about to give him a taste of his own medicine, slipping the cock over his tongue, your alarm clock woke you up. With a groan, you reached over to slap it off. Harry cuddled closer to you, his hand slipping over your stomach and down to the waistband of your pajama pants. Your eyes were still closed, picturing Harry’s mouth full, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes watering. When he slipped his fingers down into your panties, circling over your clit, you came undone in moments.

You were already so close from your dream, it didn’t take much to finish you off. Harry had been kissing over your jaw, but he stopped after realizing that you were already cumming. He had never seen you cum that fast. Normally, you needed a lot of warm up before you could cum. Harry slipped his finger down lower, his eyes growing wide when he realized how wet you were. It felt wrong, letting him continue when you were thinking such filthy thoughts about him. He slipped his fingers into you, whispering your name. 

“What were you dreaming about?” His voice was raspy and that drove you crazy. 

Is that what he sounds like after he’s choked on a dick?

You clenched your eyes tighter, trying to ward off the thought. 

“My sweet girl,” Harry cooed. “Tell me what you were just dreaming about.” 

“I can’t.” Your eyes flew open, searching for him. 

Just like that, his fingers were out of you and on his side of the bed. It took a second, your eyes trailing over his pinched up face, to realize how that must have sounded to him. 

“Who were you dreaming about, then?” He was upset. It was written all over his beautiful, sleepy face. “Thinking about someone else fucking you while you’re in bed with me, is that it?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” He scoffed. “Why can’t you tell me then?” 

“Because…” You whined, reaching up to brush your hands over your face. “It’s...I was dreaming about something we’ve never done before.” 

“Was it a threesome?” Harry asked. “That’s about the only thing we haven’t tried and I don’t plan on sharing you anytime soon. Not yet at least.” 

“I was fucking you with a strap on.” You slapped your hands down on the duvet, frustrated with yourself. “Well, the first dream was about me fucking you. The second dream, the one I just had, was about you on your knees. And I felt bad for thinking of it because...well I don’t know! We haven’t even talked about that before.”

 “Yes we have.” He said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Last month when you were pissed out of your mind! You came home after drinks with your girls, crawled into bed all giggly, and you slipped my pants off and bit my bum. Said Victoria and her man were trying it and you wanted to give it a go.” 

“Oh.” You whispered. “I remember that.” 

“Do you remember what I said?” He asked, brows raised as he smirked down at you. 

“No.” 

“I said that I wanted you to fuck me.” He leaned down, ghosting his lips over yours, his eyes burning into yours. 

“Shit.” You whimpered as he slipped his hand back down into your panties. 

He quickly inserted his fingers back into your aching cunt, reaching for that sweet spot nestled in your wet wall. Harry kept his forehead pressed to yours as he fingered you. Like your first orgasm, the second one came far too quick. Harry wasted no time, slipping your pajamas and his off. He was inside you moments later, stretching you out with a few sloppy thrusts. He grabbed your wrists, holding them above your head as you cried out. It felt so good to have him admit that he wanted to play out your fantasy. Normally he was in charge. He called the shots and made the plans. You loved that about him. But the excitement unfurling in the pit of your stomach was overwhelming. You couldn’t wait to get him on his knees. 

“Thinking about it now?” He grunted, smearing his lips across yours in a wet and urgent kiss. He pulled away, his eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed around you. 

“Are you thinking about fucking me, pretty girl?” 

“Yes.” You whimpered. 

“Tell me.” He demanded, stopping inside of you. He was pressed deep in your cunt, but he wasn’t going to budge unless you told him. He had great self control. You, however, did not. You were impatient when it came to your own sexual needs. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I want…” Your eyes rolled back in your head as his hips jutted forward a little. 

“Fuck- Harry, please-” 

“Tell me.” He grunted again. “It won’t take me long to cum in you, you know that. You keep squeezing my cock with your tight pussy and I’m going to cum. You won’t though. I’ll leave you in bed to figure it out for yourself. You’re a big girl now, yeah? You don’t need me to help you cum.” 

“I do.” You cried out. “Don’t, Harry, please don’t leave me. I need you to make me cum, baby, please.” 

“Then tell me.” He was teasing you now, milking this vulnerable state you were in. You would do anything to cum and he knew it. 

“I want to eat your ass.” You confessed. “I want to start like that, you spread out on the bed completely naked. I want you to wear a cock ring and I want your hands tied because I know you. You’re greedy and you’ll try to play with yourself but only I can touch you. It’s my cock to play with not yours.” 

“Fucking filthy.” Harry whined low in his throat, pulling his cock out of you before slipping it back in a few times, his head ducked down to watch his cock sink into you. “What else?” 

“I want to stretch you out with my fingers, slowly.” You confessed, tossing your head back. “I want to make you beg for me. Fuck, I can see it now. You would keep putting your ass up in the air, wouldn’t you?” 

“Because I’m greedy.” He repeated your words. “Then what?” 

“After I’ve stretched you out with my fingers, I would put a plug in you, keep you stretched out for me.” You lifted your head, watching Harry as he slowed his thrusts again. He looked wrecked now, his eye wide and his mouth parted as he watched you. “I would get you on your knees then.” 

“You would let me suck it?” He whispered. “Your cock.” 

“I’m gonna cum.” You whispered, gripping the sheets as he sealed the front of his body to yours. It was a little more intimate and his thrusts were limited this way, but it felt so good to have him so deep, moving slowly. “Harry-” 

“Would you let me put my mouth on it?” He whined, dropping his head to the crook of your neck as he worked his hips. You lifted your hands, shoving them under his shirt and over the bare skin of his warm back. “Would you fuck my mouth?” 

“No.” You closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath. You were so, so close. “I would make you eat me out first.” 

“That’s so kind of you.” He whimpered. “You would let me eat your sweet pussy? Even after I was so greedy?” 

“I would.” Your mouth dropped open as Harry slipped his hand down to toy with your clit. After a few more thrusts, he was cumming into you and you were squeezing him tight, your third orgasm washing over you. “Harry, baby, oh my god.” 

“I love you.” Harry cried into your neck, slipping his arms around you as you both unraveled. 

“Love you more.” You clawed at his back, lifting your hips as you felt his release.

The two of you lay there, panting. After about ten minutes, Harry lifted his head, swallowing so hard that you could see his adam's apple bob. He kissed your lips quickly before pulling back to look down at you with a smirk. 

“What would you do next?” He asked softly. “Would you let me-” 

“How about you be patient and wait to find out?” You cocked a brow, reaching up to push your fingers through his hair. “Told you too much already, won’t be a surprise now.” 

“You surprise me every fucking day.” He chuckled. “S’why I love you so damn much.” 

“Is it?” You asked, voice raising an octave in teasing disbelief. “Or is because I want to fuck your ass?” 

“Maybe both.” He laughed, tossing his head back. “I’m gonna go get my laptop.”

 “Why?” You furrowed your brows, your brain still swimming in a post orgasmic universe where everything was fuzzy and warm. 

“Gotta order our supplies.” He said. “I want to pick out my own butt plug, thank you very much.” 

 There was no way you could love Harry anymore than you did right then and there.

[janeyseymour]

Home Stopped Being a Place When You Entered My Life

@menstruating-sloth , this is for you. I know it’s late... and I’m not even sure I used to right prompt, but you asked for fluff 5, and this is what was born. I hope you enjoy.

It was almost instant that Jane Seymour and Katherine Howard formed an almost inseparable bond. The moment that the two locked eyes in that rehearsal room a few years ago, the third and fifth queen knew they were going to fill the holes in their lives. For Katherine, she would have a mother figure. For Jane, she would have a child. 

Hiding away from the eyes that were bound to follow them at the first meeting for SiX was the best decision the two had ever made. From then on, the blonde had often invited the youngest queen to her house. Katherine accepted every time.

“Just know that it’s a house filled with warmth, love, and a nice home cooked meal any time you’d like to stop by,” she would tell the fifth queen lovingly before quickly addressing the rest of the queens with an offhanded, “You’re all more than welcome to join us as well. It’s always a house full of love.” While it was heartfelt and she truly meant it towards the others, the way she expressed it to the pink haired monarch was different- in a good way. 

--

A few months into the run of the musical, Jane had posed a question to the youngest of the queens.

“Hey Jane?” Katherine asked quietly as she removed her makeup from that night.

“Yeah?” the blonde answered as she removed her false eyelashes. “What’s up love?”

The fifth queen took a deep breath before speaking lowly, “I know you mentioned that you had done some painting in your apartment. The smell of the paint always gives me a headache, so I was wondering if you wanted or needed a place to stay?”

Jane froze in her spot. This was the first time the younger queen had even mentioned her place. 

Katherine took one glance at the third queen’s stunned look before quickly adding on, “Of course if you don’t want to, I totally understand. I just thought that it’s Friday, and you usually invite me over. I didn’t want to turn you down, but I also completely understand if you don’t want to stay at my place. It’s kind of a cr-”

“That’s very kind of you dear. I would love to come back to your home with you if you’ll have me.” Jane unfroze and pulled the girl into a side hug, kissing her hairline gently.

“It’s not much of a home,” Katherine muttered to herself.

“What was that love?” The older queen heard the mumbles but couldn’t quite make out what the fifth queen had uttered.

“Oh it was nothing.” The pink queen shrugged.

The two entered the dark and dingy apartment that Katherine called hers. Despite the fifth queen’s apartment being an almost exact copy of Jane’s but on a different floor of the apartment complex, it was the absolute opposite of what the elder had done with her living space. 

“Well,” Katherine sighed. “Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry there’s not much.”

“It’s simple. I like it,” Jane complimented. In reality, all the third queen could think about was how different it was from her apartment just a few floors above. Where Jane had filled her space with elegant couches, throws, carpets, and trinkets, Katherine had a musty rug that had been there since before she signed the lease along with a secondhand couch that she had found at a garage sale a few weeks into being reincarnated. Where Jane had filled her house with warm lights and the delicious smell of whatever she was whipping up in the kitchen, Katherine had a single lamp in each room and the smell of cigarettes from the woman who lived next to her.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’d understand. My... place isn’t quite what yours is,” Katherine admitted sheepishly, a tint of red flushing on her face. 

“Nonsense love. I don’t mind a bit so long as I’m here with you.”

That night the two spent their evening splayed out on the drab couch with the pink queen’s laptop propped up on their legs. It would be the first and last time Jane Seymour entered that apartment.

--

Long gone were the days of Jane inviting Katherine to her apartment. The fifth queen could barely say she lived on her own seeing that almost nightly she was in the third queen’s living space. Not that Jane minded- she quite liked having the younger woman to dote on. 

It took a while, but Katherine had found herself at ease asking Jane if she would mind her coming to her apartment for the night. Jane never denied her, staying true to her word of offering a house filled with warmth, love, and a nice home cooked meal, nor would she. Most nights, the two followed their routine of driving home together, Katherine making her way to her apartment to change out of her street clothes and into pajamas while Jane began whatever was for dinner that night. If the fifth queen could help, she would assist in the making of supper- despite Jane’s protests.

“It’s really okay love. I enjoy cooking for you,” the blonde would say.

“I just, you already do so much.”

“Well, if you’d really like to help,” Jane would dramatically sigh and hand her the cutting board to finish the vegetables.

The duo often found themselves curled up on the couch together, more than happy to watch whatever reality television show was on that night. Katherine would almost always fall asleep first, being lulled to sleep by Jane’s soft breathing along with the gentle fingers stroking her hair. When she was ready, the third queen would gently call her name and take her to the spare room within the apartment.

“Kat? Lovey? I reckon it’s time we start heading to bed for the night,” Jane would whisper quietly so as not to scare the young queen awake.

The fifth queen would sleepily open her eyes, untangle herself from the blonde’s hold around her and mumble something about, “I guess I should get going back to my place.”

Each and every time, the third monarch would stifle a laugh before ensuring her company that she was more than welcome to stay if she wished. Katherine would never refuse. 

--

Katherine had brought her mail up to the blonde’s apartment when she noticed a letter from the owner of the apartment complex.

“What’s wrong, love?” The older queen paused her stirring of the soup that she had put on the burner when she got a glance at the wrinkled expression on Kat’s face. 

“Rent is going up- by a lot,” the fifth queen couldn’t keep the tremble in her voice at bay. The rent was going up by a significant amount, and she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to be able to keep her apartment. Sure, being in a starring role in one of the most popular musicals at the time was decent money, but it certainly wasn’t enough for her to maintain keeping the key to the place she would have to retreat to if Jane wasn’t there for a night. 

“By how much?” Jane frowned, the creases in her forehead growing deeper. The woman dressed in pink silently made her way across the room and let the blonde take a look for herself. “Oh my,” she whispered, now understanding why Katherine was so upset. 

“I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my apartment,” the fifth queen confessed sadly. It wasn’t so much the thought of losing her place, but it was that she enjoyed being able to run up a few flights of stairs to the silver queen’s home. No place would ever be home if it wasn’t with Jane.

“Oh darling,” the third queen lowered the heat, allowing the vegetables to simmer before pulling the younger woman into a loving embrace. 

“Shit,” Kat cursed quietly. “I don’t want to lose my apartment.”

At that, Jane looked at the girl in her arms curiously. “Can I ask why love? It’s not like you’re there often.”

The pink haired queen allowed herself to look embarrassed before slowly extracting herself from the third queen’s grasp. “It’s just-” she twisted her fingers together, a nervous habit she had always done. “-I like my apartment being so close to yours. It’s... nice. If I have to move away...” she worried a lip through her teeth, not quite sure how to word this for fear of scaring off the only person who had ever shown her maternal warmth. “...What if I don’t see you as often? Or,”

“Love,” Jane chided gently, forcing the younger woman to look at her. When Katherine looked at the woman standing in front of her, she noticed that she wasn’t the only one who looked worried.

“What’s wrong Jane?” The pink haired queen began to fear the worst: that she had said something that overstepped the one boundary the two might have. 

“I,” The woman in grey took a deep breath. “I don’t want to scare you with this love. And I completely understand if you do not want to or have hesitations and my feelings won’t be hurt, I promise. But, you’re hardly in your apartment at all anyways, and I really love always having you around. How would you feel about moving in together?”

The third queen knew she was pushing a boundary that had never really been talked about. Afterall, the woman before her had only ever offered to show her around her apartment before. Perhaps there was a reason for that. What she wasn’t ready for was for the younger girl who had just left her hold to come flying back into her arms with such force that she felt her back hit the countertop with a quiet thud followed by a whispered with baited breath, “Are you being serious?”

“Of course I’m being serious love.” She pressed a quick kiss to the pink haired girl’s temple, but she put as much love as she could into it.

“If you’re sure, then I would love to live with you.” The youngest queen wrapped her arms around the blonde even tighter.

“Well, we will have to discuss this more in depth later, but right now, why don’t we settle in for a night of “Love Island” and some soup?”

That night, not much else was discussed about the housing situation. The night did end with Jane all but carrying the sleepy Katherine Howard into the bedroom that Jane thought of as Kat’s.

“Goodnight sweetheart, I’ll see you in the morning, yes?” She smiled softly as she smoothed some of the loose hairs out of the young girl’s face.

Kat nodded gently, already half asleep before letting the words slip out of her mouth without any thought, “G’night mum. Love you.”

Jane’s hand froze where it was on Katherine’s cheek for a split second before the words tumbled out of her mouth, “I love you too my little love.”

It wouldn’t be spoken again for some time, but the first time Katherine Howard called Jane Seymour “mum” was something that the third queen held near and dear to her heart. 

--

“So, I didn’t sign the lease again,” Katherine stated through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Jane swallowed her food before speaking, “Oh? And how did that go?”

“He was pretty upset. Said something about how he was losing two tenants in one month? I just wish I knew who the other tenant was.”

The blonde across the table from her smirked, and the fifth queen caught on, or so she thought.

“You know who it is? Oh my gosh Jane! Tell me!”

The glint in the stony grey eyes gave her away. “You’re looking at the other move-out.”

“What?” Katherine all but slammed her fork down on the arm of the couch as she gave the third queen the most incredulous look she could muster. “I thought I was going to move in here with you!”

“Well, you will be moving in with me,” Jane laughed.

“You just told me you didn’t sign the lease again!”

“Well, I was going to take you there tomorrow, but I found a quaint little house that’s cheaper yearly than these small apartments. And, we would own it, not just rent.”

“B-b-but,” the younger queen stuttered out. “You love this apartment. It’s your home.”

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life,” Jane said with as much honesty and love as she could put into those ten words. 

“I love you,” Katherine leaned into the blonde. “But I know how much you love your place, and I really love it too. We can stay here, and I can pitch in money to help afford the-”

“There’s no way that I’m letting you pay rent to live with me honey.”

“But-”

“Katherine S-Howard,” Jane paused, hoping the young girl in front of her didn’t notice the near slip of tongue. “This is a fight you will not win. You’re not helping pay rent.”

“But you love your home!”

“And I love you more! I just told you home stopped being a place when you entered my life. Besides, I think it might be nice to actually be able to paint the walls and decorate the way we truly want to.”

“But-” Katherine stammered. She was determined to make Jane see that she was crazy for giving up the coziness of her apartment that she truly did love- for her. “We have so many memories here.”

“Listen love.” Jane shifted slightly. “We make memories wherever we go, and we can always look back on them. But if you really don’t want to move out of this small apartment complex, we don’t have to. I just thought you might like to have a nice house to live in that will really feel like home.”

“Well,” the fifth queen laughed quietly. “I suppose it would be nice to live somewhere where we can’t hear our neighbors having-” she stopped herself with a cringe. “-But I will be helping pay the bills.”

“No you won’t love. Let someone take care of you for once. You’re young.”

“So are you.”

“Not quite as young as you love. I’m twenty-eight. You’re nineteen. You shouldn’t have to be completely independent yourself. Let someone step in and help. Let me step in and help.”

--

Two months, many boxes, and a heartfelt goodbye to the apartment that held so many memories for the two women later, Jane Seymour and the newly adopted Katherine Howard-Seymour- having the adoption legalized thirty minutes before- stood outside their very own house.

“Well Kat, are you ready?” The blonde turned the key and opened the door.

“I can’t believe we’re home,” the girl in pink sighed with content as she leaned into her mother’s arms.

“I told you once love, and I’ll tell you again: home stopped being a place when you entered my life. You are my home.” She pressed a soft kiss to her girl’s temple before setting off to cook dinner.

The two had many boxes to unpack, but it didn’t matter. Right then and there, they were going to enjoy the first night in their new home- eating a home cooked meal made with love, settling in to watch television, and savoring their time together. 

It was like nothing changed from the two living spaces.

“Goodnight love. Sweet dreams,” Jane smiled down at the girl who was between a state of consciousness and dreaming.

“Goodnight mum. I love you.”

Jane replied without hesitation this time, “I love you too, my little love.”

Well, one thing changed. The two women were family now.

[imafraidof-thedark]

okay jerk i’ve never met before i expect some pure lunor shit specifically with TMS weekly movie night

hello, bitch, who i obviously haven’t met! here’s some lunor/habby and TMS movie night! hope it’s substantial 

also i can make a tag list if anyone is interested in being tagged when i post more, so comment/dm if you want to be added to the tag list. 

additionally, i’ll most likely be writing more ayaotd fics after that, so, you can send me an ask with a prompt to write for

READ ON AO3

“Just start without me. I have to do my homework,” Connor said, looking up at Luke, who had just walked in telling him that they were starting the movie soon. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” asked Connor.

“I mean, no,” Luke restated, climbing onto Connor’s bed and closing his laptop, moving it away from him. Luke climbed over Connor and stretched out over his body, leaning into his arms. Connor snaked his arms around Luke’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple, threading his fingers through Luke’s hair.

“I guess I can do my homework later,” he murmured, and Luke smiled, pushing himself up slightly to kiss Connor’s cheek. Connor moved his hand down to Luke’s face, and cupping his cheek, kissed his lips.

“Thanks, Con,” Luke replied in between kisses, blushing slightly. 

“‘Course,” Connor said, “anything for my angel.”

“Soooo,” Hanna said down in the living room, tucking her foot under her and sitting down on the couch. “What are we watching tonight?”

“Connor said IT one,” Gabby said, from her spot on the floor in front of Hanna, next to Jai. 

Hanna crossed her arms. “Who is currently not here,” she said under her breath.

Jai snorted. “He’s probably in the kitchen making out with his boyfriend.”

“Jai!” Hanna exclaimed hitting him with a pillow.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

Gabby gave a noncommittal jerk of her head. “He’s most likely not wrong.”

“Gabby! Not you too!” Hanna groaned. 

“Hanna, you can’t say that there hasn’t been something else since Luke ‘gripped him tight and raised him from perdition,’” Jai said, making finger quotes in the air. 

“Jai-” Hanna started but broke off as the door opened and Connor and Luke walked in. 

“Speak of the devil,” Jai smirked.

Hanna rolled her eyes and Gabby laughed lightly. 

“Whatchya talking about?” Luke asked, walking over to sit in the corner of the couch. Connor followed close behind with a bowl of popcorn.

“Nothing,” Gabby said quickly. 

“Okay,” Luke said skeptically as Jai stretched out his arms, reaching for the popcorn bowl. Connor handed it to him, then sat down in between Luke and Hanna. 

“‘S it queued up?” he asked and no one spoke. “Seriously?” Sighing, he got up and turned on the tv in his living room.

“Sorry that we don’t know how to work the tv,” Jai replied and Connor just rolled his eyes, pulling the disc of the first IT movie out of the tv stand. “And where the disc was,” Jai added as Connor turned on the tv and put the disk into the player.

“It’s not like you’ve been over to my house a million times, Jai.”

Luke put his arm up on the side of the couch and said, “he hasn’t. He’d be talking with Seth while we’re hanging out.”

“Okay, the funky dude isn’t that bad,” Jai protested.

“No, he’s that bad,” Hanna said. Jai shrugged and shoveled popcorn into his mouth while Connor took his spot again, Luke’s arm shifting closer to him as he clicked play and the opening scene started up, with the volume high enough to drown out almost any other noise.

“I’m thinking it might’ve been a bad idea to watch IT after the Shadowman,” Gabby said, 30 minutes into the movie. She’d migrated to the couch now, and she and Hanna were both under a blanket, and Jai had piled pillows on the floor and was lounging across them. 

From the opposite side of the couch, Connor, who had his head resting on Luke’s shoulder, spoke. “Yeah, probably. Bad planning on my part.”

“Or maybe it was just a ploy to get me to hold you,” Luke whispered into Connor’s ear, careful not to let the others hear. 

Connor smiled, blushing slightly, and looked up at Luke. “You look really cute when you do that, too,” Luke added.“Shut up,” he muttered, but moved closer into Luke’s side anyway, and The Midnight Society (minus Seth) sat in silence for a few more minutes before someone spoke. “We’re out of popcorn,” Jai said, lifting the empty bowl above his head. Connor flicked his eyes over to where Jai was.

“We’ll make it,” Hanna announced, grabbing the bowl from Jai and standing up. “C’mon.” She motioned with her hand. Gabby blinked and looked around in confusion, but stood up and followed Hanna. “And you can keep watching the movie,” Hanna added as she held the door to the hallway open for Gabby.

Gabby yawned as she walked over to the counter where the Stevens’ air popper and popcorn kernels were already out from the last batch. It was when Gabby had measured out the kernels and started the machine that Hanna finally spoke. “Gabby?” she asked hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“I have something to tell you,” Hanna said, wringing her hands nervously. Gabby turned around to look at her and jumped up onto the countertop. “I’m listening,” she replied when Hanna didn’t speak. 

“What? Oh, yeah.” Hanna rubbed her eyes. “Gabby? I like you. Like, romantically like you. Like, like, you,” she confessed, starting to pace. “And I get that you might not be okay with that, which is fine, I guess, and I won’t mention this again if that’s the case and we can pretend this never happened, cause I still want to be your friend, even if I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Hanna.”

“Yes?” Hanna asked apprehensively, stopping in front of Gabby.

Gabby smiled. “I like you too. Like, like, you.”

Hanna immediately felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. “You do?” Her voice came out breathless and strained. 

“I do,” Gabby assured, reaching an arm out to Hanna. Hanna stepped forward shakily, then again, and again, until she was right in front of Gabby. She could smell Gabby’s flowery scent that accompanied her everywhere; the cherry chapstick on her lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” Gabby whispered, which Hanna still heard over her frantic pulse and the air popper in the background. She nodded and Gabby leaned in slowly. 

When their lips met, Hanna felt the whole world disappear. It was only her and Gabby. She felt Gabby pull her closer and she unconsciously leaned in and deepened the kiss, her arms moving around Gabby’s waist. 

Meanwhile, Gabby moved her hands up Hanna’s arms to her face to touch Hanna’s cheeks gently, her ankles hooked together behind Hanna’s legs. 

They finally broke apart after the first couple of popcorn kernels popped. Gabby leaned down and touched her forehead to Hanna’s, both of them smiling breathlessly.

“So you really like me?” Hanna asked.“Yes, I really like you,” Gabby responded, tucking a strand of Hanna’s hair behind her ear. Hanna smiled and kissed Gabby again. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Gabby repeated, pulling Hanna in for a hug, only letting go when they heard the popcorn stop popping. Hanna pulled away, placing a chaste kiss on Gabby’s lips, then walked to turn off the air popper.

“Jai will want salt and butter,” Gabby told Hanna. 

“Well,” Hanna stated, grabbing the salt, “sucks for him, cause he’s just having salt.”Gabby grinned as Hanna shook the salt over the popcorn, then shook the bowl lightly. “Ready?” Hanna asked, holding her hand out for Gabby to take.

“What are we gonna tell the rest of the Midnight Society?” Gabby asked quietly. 

Hanna lowered her hand. “We can decide tomorrow. They don’t need to know yet if you’re not ready. That okay?”

Gabby nodded.

“And besides,” Hanna continued, “they’re all fine with my moms, anyway.”

Gabby nodded and Hanna held out her hand again. This time, Gabby took it, smiling, and hopped off the counter. 

“Thank you,” Jai drew out when Hanna handed him the bowl, and Hanna nodded in return, settling down on the couch with Gabby. Hanna opened her arms and Gabby leaned into her chest. 

“You know, I think if the Losers were actually smart, they wouldn’t run to try and stop IT,” Jai said, holding his arm up vertically. “I mean like, Pennywise was gonna take them anyway most likely. It’s kinda useless.”

“Jai, you do realize what we did when Connor was missing, right?” Hanna asked incredulously. 

“Well yeah. But that’s cause we had a friend missing.”

There was an awkward silence. “Jai, Georgie was missing. He’s Bill’s brother,” Luke deadpanned. 

Jai blinked. “Yeah okay, I see your point.”

The rest of the movie passed relatively smoothly, Gabby falling asleep first, two-thirds of the way through the movie, her head resting on Hanna’s shoulder. Hanna fell asleep 10 minutes after that, and then Jai during the last scene in the field. 

“That was fun,” Luke whispered at 1:30 am when the movie ended and the credits started. 

“Yeah,” Connor whispered back, neither of them bothering to get up and turn the tv off just yet. 

“Watching this movie makes me realize how glad I am to have you back,” Luke told Connor, running his hands through Connor’s hair and then kissing his hairline. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Connor replied, and they fell into an easy silence. When the credits finally stopped, Connor reluctantly pulled away from Luke.

“Where are you going?” Luke whined, flopping on the couch, reaching for Connor.

“I have to put away the disk and turn off the tv,” Connor answered, bending down and taking the remote from Jai’s hand, then clicking the tv off. “But we can go to my room after.”

“Oh, okay,” Luke said, standing up and waiting in the doorway. When they left the room, they didn’t have to turn off the lights. All the members of the Midnight Society now had strings of lights hung up around their houses, and Connor’s living room was no different—there was a string of white Christmas lights around the room, and the actual lights had been off for a while. 

It was nearing 4 am when the sky had started lightening in the summer morning that Luke and Connor were both laying in Connor’s bed finally trying to sleep. Their legs were intertwined and they were both laying on their sides, facing each other. “I’m really glad you’re my boyfriend, angel,” Connor whispered.

“I’m super glad you’re my boyfriend, too, Con,” Luke whispered back, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Connor’s face, then kissing him again. With that, they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each others’ arms.

[hualianff]

T.F.T.A (I.H) III 《II》

Irodori – Hiroaki Tsutsumi “I can touch up some patches of the walls that look washed out?”

“Uh, no you don’t have to-“

“-oh! And I can vacuum the carpets in the morning before work, during the day, and at night once everyone leaves so the floor will always be spotless-“

“No, really, that’s a bit much-“

“Does anything in your office happen to need dusting?“

HX sighs. This human never stops.

First, it is the food and drinks he delivers to the employees on each floor–without being asked to. His employees are filthy slobs when it comes to dealing with their customers as it is; the extra vacuuming would admittedly be appreciated. Though, HX has no complaints when XL personally brings him fresh coffee and pastries from the bakery on the corner.

Then, it is the excessive cleaning that has somehow become one of his biggest priorities, courtesy of XL. HX supposes this is what he needed a custodian for in the first place. But he can’t help but wonder how YY found a human who is so damn eager to be worked like a slave.

“Mr. Xuan, what cleaning fluid brand do you prefer the bathroom floors to be mopped with?” Xie Lian asked, still sitting in the lone chair in front of HX’s desk, one hour after he first entered. Here he was, going through a laundry list of sterilization questions while HX was still trying to process just how ugly the human’s work uniform was.

He’ll have to do something about that.

HX was, by no means, generous or fashionable. Hell, he currently had on all black–the inner and outer robes being different shades–and cheap sandals that exposed just how pale his skin was. He sported the same skull earrings since first getting his ears pierced, and he kept his hair back in a simple, low ponytail that felt like a rope of lead at times.

They surely must make quite a pair, like the dark and mysterious goth teen meets the wrongly-dressed happy-go-lucky old man. There is no doubt HX beat XL in age by a couple of hundred years, yet, XL somehow still gave off wise-beyond-his-years energy. A man who has seen and been through plenty of life’s obstacles.

Such fragile beings, humans were.

“Um, Mr. Xuan?” XL spoke up again when HX didn’t answer his twentieth question right away. “Is it alright if I call you that? Or should I call you Black Water?”

HX’s frown deepened, sincerely considering how XL should address him. It was not like XL knew the truth behind the title Black Water, and for that reason, it felt improper for the human to speak a name he was not aware held so much power.

“Mr. Xuan is fine,” HX says curtly.

“Oh, okay. Mr. Xuan it is.”

HX exhaled with thinning patience. He placed his elbows on the desk, preparing to shoo his new employee away so he could work in peace.

“You can just call me Xie Lian. I hope to be of the best assistance to you, Mr. Xuan,” XL adds quicker than HX can respond. “By the way, about those cobwebs surrounding the hallways lights-”

Seriously, was this guy out of his mind?

From XL’s perspective, he believes he hit the jackpot with this job. Not only is it incredibly low-stress compared to his previous hustles, but XL often finds himself to be most useful in keeping Black Water company. Yes, XL is aware HX strives to be as antisocial and non-confrontational as possible. And yes, a boss-employee relationship probably shouldn’t cross a certain line into the best friend zone.

But whenever HX happens to be nearby, and XL bounds over with a dozen updates on his work and random stories that he can’t help sharing, HX begrudgingly stays and listens.

“See? Doesn’t dusting make everything nicer to look at?“ XL questions with a sunny smile, gesturing to the bookshelves on one side of HX’s office. He was a quarter of the way through with this task when his boss walked in.

HX merely grunts, then plops down in a chair different from the one guests typically sit in. It appears to be a new addition to the room. In XL’s eyes, more furniture means more growth in self-care for one’s personal space. In this case, HX’s working environment.

Naturally, XL approves with a satisfied nod. He also can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“By the way, I noticed your tastes in literature differ across many subjects: Folklore, politics, ocean science…”

HX raises an eyebrow at this comment.

“What about it?” he asks, a little blunt, a little curious.

XL continues dusting in between the shelves. He faces away from HX and is glad his boss can’t discern his nervous expression. XL knows he has his nosy moments, knows that he often unintentionally crosses others’ boundaries in order to connect, which irks people all the time.

Maybe this is one of those moments.

Still, XL wants to try.

“Do you want to tell me about them? I’m quite the avid reader myself, and some of these titles look positively compelling,” XL says, skimming a hand down the exquisite spine of one of the books. He turns his head just enough to sneakily eye HX’s reaction, who hasn’t changed his seating positions the last forty minutes.

HX’s arms remain crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead at the wall of bookshelves XL insisted on dusting and tidying. His obsidian eyes noticeably sharpen, jaw slightly relaxing.

HX doesn’t say anything for a long minute. One minute bleeds into two, and then three.

XL sighs, a bit disappointed. He doesn’t want to push HX’s limits, nor initiate conversation he is in no place to discuss. Quietly, XL turns his attention back to work.

But as XL squats down to straighten out some books on the lower shelf, the image of black robes gliding along the floor catches his eye.

HX walks to one of the middle bookcases, caressing his fingers along his vast collection until he pauses on a book with an emerald green cover and characters glimmering in gold. He plucks the novel out of its homely crevice, opening the cover to flick through the worn pages.

XL takes this as his cue to approach, waving around the feather duster in anticipation. HX shifts to show the human the open book, finger pointing to the section header.

“This one is a myth about a parasitic ghost who latches onto its host and feeds off of sadness, sorrow, despair,” HX explains slowly, deliberate with his words. XL’s mouth opens in an “oh” shape, expressing interest in his features.

HX brings the book closer for XL to see.

“It’s one of my favorite reads,” HX murmurs, focusing on the text. XL blinks in astonishment, feeling especially honored that HX shared this with him.

It has only been one month since XL started working at Paradise Deals, and despite HX’s “I don’t care” attitude when it comes to basically anyone ever, XL definitely considers them to be friends.

And that is honestly the most he could ever ask for.

“Then I’ll be sure to put it on the top of my list,” XL chirps, tapping the book with the duster.

The corner of HX’s mouth tugs upwards.

*** Flor y Sangre – Sophism, Isabella LeVan, A Million in Vermillion One day, as XL rides the elevator up to the eleventh floor, it stops at the third floor first. The doors open to reveal a man with a green dress shirt tucked into black-and-white checkered pants. The same checkered-patterned suit jacket hangs loosely over his shoulders.

The man’s dark hair is long enough to cover his ears, making him appear quite young. Side bangs obstruct his eyes, but upon seeing XL’s face, the strands fly out of the way as he shakes his head in surprise.

“YOU!” The man seethes out, stomping into the elevator with clenched fists.

“M-me?” XL looks around, then points to himself questioningly.

“What are you doing here!? And what the hell are you wearing!? Am I supposed to fall for a dumb disguise like this?” The stranger fires back, voice getting more high-pitched as he jabs an offending finger at XL’s nose.

XL is beyond confused. He glances down at his custodian attire, the nameplate thankfully still in place. It’s in navy this time, courtesy of Black Water’s kindness is providing XL with more than one work outfit that doesn’t automatically suck the soul out of whoever sees it.

There is an awkward beat of silence.

The elevator doors close, XL now pressed with his back against the wall, nervously fiddling with the mop in his hands.

“Do I know you?” XL asks, forgetting his manners in a panicked state while searching his memories, trying to recognize the man in front of him.

“Fucking rude, as always,” the man sneers, giving XL a nasty stink-eye before backing off. “If you won’t reveal your true self now, I’ll just follow you until you do.”

“Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” XL rushes out, sneaking in a few bows here and there. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for the wrong person?

The man crosses his arms as if seriously contemplating XL’s words. His eyes shift from XL’s face, to his attire, to the mop, and then finally, up towards above XL’s head.

He decidedly shakes his head, unconvinced.

“No, I’m not that gullible. How convenient would it be that the first time I see you in who-the-fuck-knows-how-long, you’re stuck like this,” he hisses lowly. “Weak. Useless. Ignorant.”

Now that makes XL’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. He’s been harshly insulted before–regarded as pitiful and lacking potential in many areas–and likes to think his skin is thicker because of it. But to be directly attacked by a man whom he has no memory of meeting before? XL can’t help but feel like this is entirely uncalled for.

How does this man even know him?

The elevator doors slide open, having reached the eleventh floor. On the other side stands Black Water, wearing an expensive-looking suit with navy lining and silver cuffs. His foot stops its tapping on the ground where it had been denting the carpet.

“Xie Lian, I’ve been looking for you,” Black Water says, completely ignoring the other man in the elevator. “I’m meeting with a few clients on the east side of the city, and I need you to handle the documentation.”

He holds out a huge briefcase with the same fish symbol as the ones on the doors in the hallway. As XL steps out of the elevator to accept the briefcase, an interested “Xie Lian, huh?” sounds from behind.

“Pardon me, sir, if I can’t recall our first acquaintance. But did you need something from me?” XL asks while turning around, attempting to hold out an olive branch once more. Next to him, Black Water pulls out his phone and mindlessly scrolls down the screen.

“I can’t believe you actually did it. Got yourself a name and everything,” the man says, disbelief coloring his features. Then his eyebrows pinch together in a sudden display of anger. He locks eyes with XL, those amber eyes looking eerily similar to his own. “You disgust me.”

Before XL can react, the elevator doors slam shut instantly with a loud boom, masking the sound of fingers snapping right next to him. XL jerks at the sound, hands white-knuckling the briefcase.

“Do you know who that is?” XL asks his boss, tilting his head. This encounter has left him awfully confused and a little worried about his job. Would this affect what his boss thinks about his impact in the workplace?

It seems this trouble is needless when HX eyes simply narrows his eyes at the closed doors, a stormy expression on his face.

“No one to concern yourself with.”

Bonus:

XL finds out QR is the lower-levels’ boss, who holds an apparent grudge against him…? Once QR had come across XL in the elevator, he sticks around like an unwanted pest, somehow having the time to harass XL many hours a day.

XL: “Why does this guy keep following me around and insulting me?”

XL eventually cleans QR’s floors too because he has time and it seems QR won’t leave him alone.

HX: “Give me back my custodian!”

QR: “Fuck off! Why are you so defensive about mortal scum?”

XL, wiping down the doors, whistling: (´∀｀*)

[artycreaty]

You’re okay, you’re safe

(ShinRanSonoko Friendship for @everyday-thursdays )

Hello Thursdays! I am your @dcmksecretsanta this year! 🎅🏻 🎁

I deeply apologise for this being late! I didn’t get good ideas for writing this fic, but then imagined stuff and tried to write them down days later, and what I thought would be like 1.5k words turned into this monster of a long fic! How scary is that? 😱  I sure did scare myself! 😂  I hope the fact that this got made extra long makes up for my tardiness! 😇 🙇🏻‍♀️ 🙏🏻  I hope you enjoy this gift! Because of you, I loved ShinRanSonoko dynamic the more I wrote it!

Wishing you a very Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year! May 2021 bring you hope, creativity and health! 🎆 📣 ✨

Special thanks to Gisa ( @meitanteisachi ) for everything you’ve done for me! ✨ If we hadn’t had discussions about a certain Heiress, this fic would’ve been way late or, god forbid, never been formed! 😱 😅  Thank you also for having shared your thoughts on my fic! You’re the best! 💜

Also special thanks to Blender ( @blenderfullasarcasm ) for beta-ing my work! ✨ Without your help, this fic would’ve been cringey, so Thank You! You’re the best! 💜

Now then, please enjoy!

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

Relationships: ShinRanSonoko Friendship, background ShinRan Rating: T (for language and panic attack) Words: 16.8k Additional Tags: Friendship, Panic Attacks, Fluff, Best Friends, Good Friend Suzuki Sonoko, ShinRanSonoko Friendship, Humor, Sassy Suzuki Sonoko, maybe? - Freeform, DCMK Secret Santa, DCMK Secret Santa 2020, Gift Fic, Gift Giving

Summary:

“We’re not leaving you,” Ran says with determination.

“You’re stuck with us,” Shinichi snorts.

And Sonoko? Sonoko wants to cry. She just wants to stay with them, like this. Forever.

.

.

.

Twelve.

It is warm inside the Suzuki residence. Feeling extremely bored, the young Suzuki suddenly decides to do an activity which involves water guns. Having already done their homework and revisions, and with watching TV mindlessly boring her, she just feels like doing something physical. So Sonoko convinces Ran to play, and they wear swimming costumes under casual clothes so as not to catch a cold before grabbing their water guns. It has been thirty minutes since then.

However, there is something missing from this scenario. She ponders the thought. What is it?

It feels like there is someone missing from this group… Ah, yes. Shinichi! She’d forgotten!

She turns around to see Shinichi sitting on a bench, reading another mystery novel that he had borrowed from their library, having already refused to join in on their activities. 

Why is he reading that book and not joining in?

Ah yes, because that little brat has ‘better things to do than get himself drenched in cold water from a fake gun’. His words, not hers. Sonoko is annoyed. Very, very annoyed. 

So when she impulsively decides to forcibly bring him into the ‘pointless’ activity with herself and Ran, the world need not blame her. 

She shushes Ran, then slowly and sneakily walks towards the wannabe detective who is looking at the back of the book with a contemplative expression, and when she arrives at the destination, she raises her hand up, pointing towards him. Barely holding in a giggle, she pulls the trigger. 

SPLAAASH!

“UWAAH!”

A steady fountain of water lands on his head, wetting his hair and splattering onto his clothes, a few touching the book. Ah well, it’s on the back, so it’s going to be readable. Even if it isn’t, her library has one or two extra copies, so it’s fine. He still instinctively puts the book out of the way while shielding his face, so there. A few more seconds, and she stops.

A long silence.

Shinichi is the one who breaks it. He puts his arm down, gawks at her. His mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. “Did you—” he clears his throat. “Did you just splash water on me?”

“Yup, I did!” she says cheekily, popping the ‘p’.

Somewhere in the background, she hears soft, suppressed laughter at the display.

“...” He looks down, his wet hair covering his eyes. “What the hell?” Sonoko remains silent, not gracing him with an answer just yet. “What the hell are you doing, Sonoko?”

She raises her eyebrow. “Playing water guns. What else am I doing?”

“Well then,” Shinichi’s voice is low, “riddle me this. I have not done anything to you today or ever. I didn’t want to come here but you dragged me here anyway so I borrowed this book and left both of you alone to play whatever it is you like to play with. But then you came sneaking on me, involved me in your game without warning, and ruined a perfectly written novel. So tell me…” His head raises ever so slightly, giving her a glare. “What did I ever do to deserve this kind of treatment?”

Having been around him for long enough to be immune to his glares, Sonoko just deadpans and gives him a glare of her own. “Oh, you’ve done plenty. First of all, you’re boring. Second of all, you left us alone and read whatever that is in your own solitude. I don’t know what the heck is up with that. Third of all, I dragged you here for a reason. And finally, that book is still intact. It isn’t the end of the world if a few droplets just happened to land on that book. Oh, and did I forget to mention that you’re boring?”

“Oh, am I?” He slowly stands up from the bench, still glaring at her. “And what do you want me to do about that, oh gracious heiress?” The last lines are dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re forgetting,” Sonoko drawls as she steps backwards a little, the corners of her lips twitching up, “about the fact that it’s currently the winter holiday, we’re 12, in middle school, we’re still young, and we have perfectly logical reasons to partake in fun activities like this one?”

His eyebrow raises into his hairline, tone curious despite the glare intensifying. “Oh? I didn’t know that you knew such big words.”

“You’re the one to blame. I’ve been infected with your loquacity.”

“Ah, thank you for the compliment, Your Graciousness.”

Sonoko’s eyebrow twitches. “The hell’s with that?”

He skillfully ignores her. “So…?”

She deadpans at him and just sighs as she raises the hand holding the gun, pointing at him. “So, a little bird told me that you’ve learned how to shoot with your dad in the middle of nowhere?” Shinichi’s stare is all the answer she gets. “Won’t you show me those lame skills of yours?” And before he can reply, Sonoko immediately pulls the trigger.

SPLAAASH!

Cold water hits his head, splashing droplets everywhere. Once again, he raises his hand to shield his face. And once again, silence.

“Oh. You actually want to do this? Fine.” Shinichi mutters as he lowers his arm, his glare at Sonoko intensifying once more. His lips curl into a smirk, his teeth showing. For once, Sonoko feels a tiny bit of fear growing from her being, but she skillfully rids herself of it. “Let’s play.”

.

.

.

(Continued in AO3! Please click the link above!)

[barnesandco]

Sunshine is Honey in the Mouths of Birds who have Tasted Cages

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut, so please be 18 or older. I will block you if you aren't.

A/N: This is my first smut one shot, and the first piece I've ever done with detailed smut generally, so please let me know what you think; I could use some constructive feedback. Also, I’d be over the moon if you would reblog - thank you so much for your support!

You bite your lip in concentration as you work on the third-to-last buckle on the jacket of his tac suit, leather scraping rough against your hands, but the smile in his eyes as he watches you undress him is cotton-soft clouds, stroking your cheek as gently as his hands on your hips. A watery chuckle escapes him as you shake your head and blink back your own tears when the jacket falls open to reveal the compression shirt he wears underneath, and you lean against his chest, dazed smile pressed into his sternum.

Bucky lowers his head so his nose brushes your hairline, murmuring his next words straight into your nervous system, setting your neurons alight the way only he can.

" 'M not sure how I thought you'd react, but this definitely wasn't it, doll." 

"I just-" Another shake of your head, this time in equal parts of disbelief and awe, nuzzled into his chest, a huff of laughter. "-I know we've talked about it, and you said you were going to, but now that it's finally happening, I don't know what to say." Your voice breaks at the end, surprise and joy bursting at its seams. "You're retiring." It's a question, a half-doubt, that when repeated once more, and then twice, sounds like a promise rolling off your tongue.

The orange pinks of the incoming sunset pierce the room to set his eyes on fire, smoldering oceans when you finally push back to look at him. The room holds its breath when he smiles, but your first tear takes the chance to escape the corner of your eye, allows itself to be recaptured by his thumb as he lifts his hands to cradle your face. His hand rests in the crook of your neck like a sparrow in its favorite branch, warm and content, finally home.

"I am, baby, I am," he confirms, before leaning down to seal his mouth over yours, warmth thrumming beneath your skin. His other hand stay on your hips while yours rise to push the jacket off his shoulder. The light thump with which the Stark-engineered leather lands on the carpet in your bedroom is drowned out by the whimper released from your mouth, and his responding growl. He tastes like peppermint and ash, fresh from a mission and exhaling cold against you as he forces himself to release your waist, your face. 

"I need a shower, darlin'. Don't want to celebrate all sweaty," he whispers, and you want to tell him you don't give half a damn - he can smell like sweat and gunpowder all he wants as long as he's home - but you know he's never at ease after a mission until he's had all the grime of it cleaned from him, physically and then emotionally. So you nod instead, following him to the bathroom, choosing not to mention his comment about celebrating, even as the excitement heats your insides and your imagination.

The world goes quiet, and then roars with the sound of the shower as you turn it on, then reaching to peel Bucky's shirt from his form. A sigh is released - heavy and quick, like a July breeze - as he traces your neck with his lips, while your hands shake to remove his pants. Steam is damp on your lips when he leans to plant his lips on yours once more, simultaneously tugging at the sleeves of your nightgown, the silk pooling at your feet, cool mercury against your ankles.

You step into the spray of shower, hot for summer, but just right to soothe your husband's likely aching bones, his weary face. The wrinkles seem to evaporate from his forehead as the water hits his shoulders, and he reaches for you, guiding you to stand chest to chest, heart to heart. A wet kiss, interrupted by the streams of water, is laid on your forehead, his hands soothingly traversing your back and waist, his wedding band a cool reprieve from the searing cocoon you're enveloped in.

Fear that your heart might just burst with the intensity of your love for him stabs at your chest, before you push it away with another smile at yourself and reach for shower gel and a loofah. The soapy suds glide across his body when you move your hand in circular motions, starting at his torso, taking care to trace every scar as it is made visible after the foam clears. His skin tenses, goosebumps erupting, and a kiss for gratitude every time.

You giggle at the last one and he nips at your bottom lip, and then your neck, laughing in between. Pretending to be stern, you waggle the shampoo bottle at him like a scolding finger, furthering his amusement. 

"Enough funny business, Barnes," you tell him, and he grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and bumping your forehead with his own when he gives an exaggerated nod. 

"Yes, ma'am," and your lungs do a funny dance, your diaphragm struggling with the breath you were about to take. His blinding smirk is a surefire tell that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"I need to wash your hair," you say, reminding him of the bottle still in your hands, and he steps back before dropping to his knees, taking the loofah with him. 

"Thought I'd wash your legs while I'm down here," He says in answer to your raised eyebrows, and you quell the urge to tell him his hands on your legs are not most conducive to keeping you on your feet. Instead, you begin to wash his hair, letting the leather wash away stolen remains of rubble and stone, blood and dirt. No more of that, you think happily. He's home now. 

And he's very much at home too, comfortably sliding his hands up and down your legs to wash away the soap hands tracing patterns on your calves, your shins. You swallow a whimper when he traces the first letter of his name on your thigh. Try to focus on washing out the last of the shampoo as he replaces his fingers with his thumb. The only thing in his hair now is your fingers, clenching and stroking, when his mouth locates the peachy flesh at the apex of your thighs. 

The color of the sky during summer sunsets is no warmer than this sacred space between your legs, the feeling he delivers when he moves just so, and God, you need to rest back on the tiles - a cool reprieve - as he opens you up to him, lifting a leg over his shoulder. Held up by one trembling leg, his vibranium hand on your waist, and the strength of that surge of pleasure, you bite back a growl.

"Jesus, you're delicious, baby," he slurs against you, lust-drunk and lost in the taste of you, the feel of your soft sweetness on his tongue, honey and sunshine and ocean saltwater all in one. His movements quicken as your breath shortens, a mewling cry let loose in the throes of your climax when he suckles on your sensitive bud. Fireworks behind your eyelids, it feels like a stampede of horses are racing across your ribs when he rises and gives you a kiss. The taste of you is tangy and sweet on his lips, a beautiful contrast with the rough scrape of his stubble.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He teases with a quirk of his kiss-swollen lips, and you resist the urge to kiss that smug expression off. This silence gives him more material. "Speechless, huh? I know I'm good but not that g-" You silence him with your lips on his, turning off the shower and pulling him out, wet limbs tangling and slipping against each other as you exit. Just barely managing to grab a couple of towels off the rack before he cages you against the sink with his arm on either side of you, you gasp as he layers your neck with weighted, wet kisses. A shock to your nerves in the form of a suckle on your pulse point, a scrape of teeth below your ear. A tingle down your spine as you feel his erection against your hip, and you've only just taken him in your hand when he exhales a growl infused with a sigh, dropping his head on your shoulder.

Your nimble hands are soft and delicate, loving and wanting, feathers over brick, bringing him ever closer to insanity and blissful heaven. But he doesn't let you take him all the way, only allowing a few minutes of a lover's caress before pushing off the sink, and taking one of the towels from your hands. He wraps you in it before draping the other across his shoulders and back. It falls off halfway from the bathroom door to the foot of your bed as he carries you to it. Skin is still shower-damp and crisp tingles litter every part of your body that his mouth touched, but all of that is forgotten when he lays you down and strips you of your towel, covering you with his body instead.

You have a perfect view like this, the last remains of the sunset giving him a rose-gold halo that you disrupt by pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. Bucky rests on his elbows, watching you like he is content to do just that for the rest of his days. 

"I can't believe it's over," He tells you, hot breath fanning over you as he leans further down, just toeing the line between going cross-eyed. Your second hand joins the first, caressing Bucky's face, tracing his laugh lines, letting a pinky rest in the divot of his chin, coming to rest with both hands on either side of his face, his warm smile tangible beneath your palms. 

"I'm happy for you, Buck," You say, and he lowers his body, pressing his every edge into your every crevice, and vice versa, nudging your nose aside to whisper again, lips rasping against yours, eyes closed. He smells of soap and citrus now, clean and warm, content and so very Bucky.

"I'm happy for us," he answers, and then the impatience must surge in him as much as it does you, because he captures your lips in a kiss that curls your toes and lifts your legs to bracket his hips. 

Bucky's hardness is more pressing now, heavy and warm against you as he rocks his hips to the rhythm of your pasps in between kisses. Gasps turn to moans, crystal clear reflecting the bubbling occurring below your navel when his fingers glide up the inside of your thighs to the spot that makes you bite your lip till you draw blood. And you almost do, but he captures your lips with his own again, swallows the resounding whimper elicited by his fingers twisting just so. Crescent-moon shapes indent his flesh bicep and a small, purple mark begins to form beneath your teeth at his collarbone as you do something, anything, to stem the overflow of pleasure he is releasing.

Something gives you the presence of mind to lift your hand from his shoulder and reach for his hair, look up to where he is watching you beneath hooded eyes and widened pupils.

"I want you," you inform candidly, pushing up to press a kiss against him. "Now, please," you add for good measure, pushing at his shoulders and he smiles, yielding to turn and lie under you. 

Straddling his hips, sitting up, you need to take a deep breath, this time from the awe of the breathtaking sight before you. The contentment of bliss, the release he has found, it's written all over him and it's an expression you want carved into your heart as much he wants to keep it on him. Your husband has been a selfless man, repaying debts for crimes he never committed, and now he's decided that the past has been compensated for. That his life is finally his own, that he is home, and the only duty he has now is to you.

He smiles up at you like you're the sun itself, nods, speaks to you in that wordless language only the two of you share, that the two of you created. So you align your warmth with his, and sink down, taking him in whole. The gasp is torn from your chest harmonizes with his groan, and you rest your hands on your chest. Lean forward - sharp inhale as he goes deeper - and your hair curtains the pair of your from the world. One kiss, and you start moving.

His hand comes up to caress your breasts, metal finger circling nipples until you whimper again, lifting your hand to press him harder to you, the other linking with his flesh one at your hip. An electric current travels up your spine when he pushes harder, smiles softer, all contradictions and beautiful mix ups. Bucky is starshine and sunflowers underneath you, his lust-hazed eyes clear enough to shine. His hands guide you over him, rolling waves and butterfly flutters everywhere inside of you, and you kiss him again. 

He tastes of sunbeams and ecstasy, tongue sweeping your mouth to memorize the feel of you on his lips, and you remind him again - in that language of lovers, with silent words - that he has all the time in the world for you. As long as he wants. Hours, days, weeks. Years. But the peak is impending; it cannot be held off much longer, and so he sits up against the headboard. Grunts to go deeper, stroke that secret spot nobody else has ever found.

"Bucky," you cry, when his hand finds your pearl of nerves, the rush of sensation sparkling like a fourth of July. His name is a catalyst, an aphrodisiac, and it gives him the push he needs to topple you both over the cliff and into the abyss, groans whimpered into each other's mouths, and hands sliding over lust-sodden bodies for something to hold onto as the world flips. You come back to earth slowly, and then plunge into it, opening your eyes like you've never seen such beauty, like he is a new galaxy in your arms.

"I love you, honey," he says, cupping your face tenderly, as if to hold flower petals. 

"I love you, too," you reply simply, moving to get under the covers, head resting on his chest. You can hear his heart racing under your ear as you look out the window. The sun has set fully, but yours is here with you, warm and alive, sweet and home.

Taglist: @suz-123​ @mermaidxatxheart​ @buckyreaderrecs​ @shield-agent78​ @corneliabarnes​ @stevieboyharrington​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @veganfangirl5​ @mood-pancakes​ @lbuck121​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @geeksareunique​

[maybe-your-left]

Right okay. I know I’ve sent you two things already but it’s because I love you. That Dan ask SENT ME OMG. I LOVED IT. Pls pls pls can I have a part two?🥺 you can’t tease me with Dan spanking us and then not deliver😜😜😜😜😘😘😘

TW/CW: NSFW, panic attack (Dan swoops in for the rescue because he loves us), couple love and fluffiness that I don’t like writing but Ashleigh LIVES FOR IT. 

There will be a part three coming! 

The sunlight pouring through the bedroom curtain blanketed the room with a soft glow. Heating up the spaces that were once dim and cold, you slowly succumbed to the inviting morning. Both you and Dan had passed out after last night, wrapped in each other’s embrace. You slowly lifted your cheek from your pillow, eyes squinting at the light, you glanced around the room. Eyes settling on the clock on your nightstand. It read 9:15, both of you had slept through your morning alarm.

You attempted to turn around to face Dan, you could feel his soft breath hitting your neck as he snoozed. But you found yourself locked into place, Dan had both his arms snaked around you in a vice grip. While his left leg was hiked over your own, pinning you to the mattress. You groaned, all you wanted to do was get up and start making breakfast. It seemed like Dan had other plans.

“Baby,” you cooed, “Baby boy, are you awake?”

Dan groaned, you felt his face nuzzle into your hair. Exhaling loudly as he resettled into another series of snores.

“Baby, hey baby can you let go of me?” you whispered a little louder. Pushing yourself up onto your forearms so he would get the hint. “Stop moving,” Dan whined, his arms fighting around you. “Wanna cuddle you.”

“Dan, baby, I need to get up,” you huffed, pushing again, “I have to pee.”

“Just pee in the bed,” he mumbled.

“Ugh, that was one time.”

Dan laughed into your hair, you could feel the smirk on his face, “I could make you do it again, is that what you want?”

“Why are you so gross this morning,” you pushed up for a third time, finally uncoiling yourself from his grasp. Dan whined as you got out of your cocoon of blankets. Huffing as he folded his arms around himself, “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom,” you called over your shoulder, “And to make us some breakfast.

You heard Dan hum as you walked down the hallway. Quickly taking care of your business in the bathroom, making sure to wash your hands and face, since it was thoroughly abused last night, and sauntered into the kitchen. It was a cold autumn morning, you could feel the wind piercing through the gaps in your windows. The apartment you two shared was a very old brownstone, and with it came some very old window panes that needed better insulation. You made a note to hound Dan to fix it this fall before it began to freeze. Flipping on the coffee pot, you got to work on making breakfast. Crepes sounded fantastic this morning and you had gotten some pre-made ones from the store a few days ago.

You began setting the table up, whipped cream, honey, berries, and other toppings to choose from. You also got to work on some toast and a few slices of bacon for Dan. Laying out a bowl of cereal for him as well, since he could eat about 5 courses for each meal, you liked to give him a variety on the Saturdays you spent together.

As you poured out his coffee you heard some grumbling coming down the hallway. Around the corner came Dan, his hair was all messed up. Sticking up in a few different directions around his face, along with a black sleep shirt and his lounge pants. His eyes were laced with sleep, puffy and slightly bloodshot from yesterday’s work. His lips were slightly red, chapped from him sleeping with his mouth open all night. Dan approached the counter, placing a warm kiss on your forehead, cheeks, and tip of your nose.

“Morning,” he rasped, his throat dry from the cool air. His fingers plucked the mug from your hand, taking a slow sip of the black beverage as he hummed in appreciation. “Thank you, sweetness.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled back at him. Eyes momentarily leaving the stove where you were crafting the crepes. “Wanna go sit down? I’m almost done.”

Dan yawned, nodding as he stepped away from you. Moments later the two of you eat in silence, the only noises coming from each other's chews and hums of thanks. Dan was flipping through the newspaper you had grabbed for him, his eyebrows drawn in frustration as he read through the political section. He had shoveled through his food faster than you’d expected, now completely immersing himself in the news.

You silently began to collect the dishes, not wanting to disturb him. Placing away the leftovers and scrubbing the relents of breakfast from the table. You sighed as you scanned over the clean area, satisfied with your work. Just as you turned to go grab a cup of tea, Dan's voice boomed across the table. “Don’t think I've forgotten about the stunt you pulled last night.”

You slowly turned on your heel, coyly playing with a lock of your hair as you met his gaze. He was no longer reading, his arms crossed over his large chest. Dans eyes searching up and down your body, taking in slow calculated breaths. He slowly got out from his chair, stalking his way over to you, pinning your back to the kitchen counter. He placed his hands on either side of you, dipping his face to be level with yours.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He cooed, “I’m going to go grab a few things, and while I’m gone you’re going to get undressed. Put your hair up in a ponytail, sit your naughty ass down on the floor in front of my chair.”

You swallowed back a sarcastic comment, seeing how his face was offering you no other option. He truly wasn’t fucking around with you, simmering with anger from your disobedience last night. You nodded, pursing your lips out for a small kiss from him.

Dan smirked, pursing his own lips and gifting you a small kindness before turning out of the kitchen. You quickly scrambled to relieve yourself of your clothes. Throwing your hoodies onto the tile, along with your shorts and underwear. You shivered as you sprinted across the room, the cold air biting your exposed flesh. Your hands wrapped around your breasts, seeking to warm them up as you kneeled before his chair. Your nipples were already cold as ice, piercing into your palms as you softly massaged them.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Dan's strong legs appeared next to you, crouching down to your level. You slowly turned to face him, eyes immediately going to his black leather belt in his fist. A ball gag placed into his second hand. He cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to his face. “Let go of my tits, your greedy hands aren’t fit to touch them.”

You released them immediately, placing them on your shivering thighs. Dan hummed, seating himself on the edge of his chair, placing the gag down on the coffee table. He patted his thigh, “Crawl up here, be a good girl for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Climbing into his lap, folding over his strong knees. Your bare ass in his face while your hands grasped his calf in preparation. Dan groaned, pressed if you down into his lap more. Your lower belly coming into contact with his concealed length. His hands roamed your flesh, squeezing your cheeks, softly smacking them, and shaking them to see the flesh bounce. His left hand dipped between them, fingertips skimming your entrances before dropping to your clit. “You’re already so wet, are you excited for your punishment?”

“No-no sir.”

Dan tsked, “I don’t think you’re in a position to lie to me.” His middle finger swiped through your folds, gathering your arousal that had seeped out. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

You shook your head violently, hips softly grinding into his palm. Dan quickly ripped his hand away, bringing down the belt onto your skin. You wailed, squirming to be let go but he had you in a stronghold. His hand not coming down to soothe the affected area like normal, no, he wanted this to hurt. He reared his hand back, snapping the belt onto you again, the metal clasp now hitting your skin. You felt the edges pierce your skin the cold sensation of blood seeping from the wound.

Tears were now flowing from your eyes, saliva and other fluids sliding down your face. You sobbed as Dan gave you a few more blows in quick succession. He cooed at you, his hand finally rubbing the abused flesh softly whispering how good you were being. Lips pressing into your shoulder blades as he mumbled, “How many was that princess?”

You gasped, trying to remember how many he had given you. They had all happened so fast you could barely remember anything but to scream. You cleared your throat, voice scratchy from all the pain, “Five-five,” you took in a deep breath, “You gave me five, thank you, sir.”

Dan hummed, “Good girl, I think five more will be enough, don’t you?”

You nodded, desperate to get this over with. Dan smoothed his hand over your ass again, “Count for me now.”

The belt snapped again, the metal against your skin-piercing your ears. You screamed out, “Six!”

Another snap, followed by two more quickly after.

“Seven-Eight-Nine! Thank you-thank, you sir.”

“One more, do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes sir, please.”

The last smack was the hardest, launching you forward on this lap. Your head colliding with the hardwood as you crumpled into a pile. You began to hyperventilate, unable to keep from the panic your body was in, sobs tearing from your lungs and tears staining the rug. You felt Dan's arms quickly surround you, carefully lifting you from the floor and cradling you in his grasp. He placed kiss after kiss on your hairline, hand rubbing up and down your back and his other held your clasped hands. His lips kissing over every knuckle, tongue lapping up your tears as your breathing steadied. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I'm here Dans here,” he whispered into your ear. Kissing around the lobe before pressing his forehead into your temple.

----- 

HELLO there is going to be a part three my lovelies DON’T WORRY but we needed some punishment... ;)