#and put some hand sanitizer at the edges of each mouth

[shirecorn]

Avoidance Avoidance

IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG/I FORGET HOW/THEY WILL BE ANGRY/I CAUSED THIS MYSELF/IT'S GOING TO HURT/AND I WILL KNOW/IT IS MY OWN FAULT/IT'S GOING TO HURT/IT'S GOING TO HURT/IT'S GOING TO HURT

I CAN'T FACE IT

[tteotlma]

Trust in the Tension

--buried impulses flare into a fierce, unspoken surrender that no barrier can contain

"Nurse"!Logan x Patient!Reader (11.5kwc)

tw; 18+ MDNI; nsfw, power imbalance; caretaker/patient dynamic; dubcon (dubious consent); explicit sexual content; oral sex; choking; hair-pulling; biting; rough physicality; coarse language; mention of mental health struggles; tears/overwhelm.

a/n: PLS BE AWARE THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION. (I AM DEEPLY AnD GRAVELY AWARE OF THE SEVERITY OF THIS SITUATION IRL BUT again THIS IS FICTION JUST HAVE FUN or skip.) i also didn't intend for this to be so long... but its been a month since my last fic

not edited entirely; pls like & reblog

Your vision pulsed to the sound of your heartbeat as you took in the scene around you.

You hadn’t asked to be here. 

The facility was nice— too nice. Plush furniture, warm neutral tones, windows big enough to let in the light but so obviously locked for safety. Despite the place feeling more like a high-end retreat, than a mental health facility that didn’t stop the feel of the walls caving in. 

Still in an unknowing state of shock you sat stiffly in the common room, arms crossed, back rigid, posture so straight it was almost defiant. It wasn’t lost on you that you were the only one not participating in whatever exercise the group facilitator had planned. 

You clenched your jaw as you stared straight ahead at the painting of random splatters on the far wall, the rest of the people fading away in the background. The painting, an aggressive array of white, red, and black splatters meticulously painted to convey some sort of emotion provided you a great sense of comfort. You couldn’t put your finger on what that feeling was but you could feel it— deep in the pit of your stomach. You felt the facilitator's eyes on you, but you ignored it trying to wrap your head around how you got here in the first place. 

It wasn’t voluntary, that's for sure. No, you were here because your parents begged, pleaded, and finally pulled out the we’re worried about you, sweetheart card. They’d finally worn you down, leaving you too exhausted to fight. 

Not that exhaustion was new to you. 

Professional Burnout was the sanitized phrase they’d slapped onto your file. As if snapping at a coworker who spent months undermining you somehow made you unstable. As if the outburst wasn’t deserved. 

One crack, you thought bitterly, and suddenly I’m the problem. 

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted your brooding. You glanced up just in time to see a man step into the room, a clipboard in hand and a toothpick hanging lazily from his mouth. He was tall and rugged, with broad shoulders that stretched his uniform and thick sideburns that framed his jaw. He looked like he belonged anywhere but here—on a construction site, maybe, or some smoky dive bar.

His eyes caught yours, sharp and assessing. You didn’t look away, narrowing your gaze in return.

He stood there for a moment, the toothpick rolling between his teeth, sizing you up like he’d already figured you out. You hated it.

“Logan,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was deep and gravelly, with a rough edge that matched his rugged appearance. He tapped the clipboard against his thigh, tilting his head slightly. “You got a name, or are we just gonna keep starin’ at each other?”

“Why do you care?” you shot back, folding your arms tighter across your chest.

His lips quirked, just barely. “Keeps things polite. But hey, if you’d rather I call you ‘sunshine,’ that works too.”

You glared at him. “It’s [Y/N].” 

“[Y/N],” he repeated, his tone deliberate, like he was committing it to memory. “Alright then, [Y/N]. Here’s the deal. I’m the orderly assigned to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t go stir-crazy or claw anyone’s eyes out.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

“Thanks,” he said, completely unfazed. “Let’s try something new—how about you actually join the group? Sitting there like a statue ain’t doin’ you any favors.”

“I’m fine right here,” you replied flatly, eyes drifting back to the splatter painting.

“Fine,” he echoed, his tone dripping with skepticism. “You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

He stepped closer, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. The closer he got, the more imposing he seemed, like he took up all the air in the room. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You can act all tough and keep everyone at arm’s length, but it doesn’t make the time go by any faster.”

You finally looked up at him, bristling at the way he loomed over you, like he was daring you to challenge him. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” he said, leaning in just enough to lower his voice, “is that I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Wound so tight you’re about to snap. Keep it up, and you’ll be stuck here a hell of a lot longer than you need to be.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms. “Maybe I like my space.”

His grin was infuriatingly small, almost imperceptible. “Sure you do. Let me know how that works out for you.”

And just like that, he turned and walked off, leaving you fuming. You weren’t sure if you wanted to yell at him or sink deeper into the chair just to spite him. Either way, you had the distinct feeling that Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you.

—

Later that day you found yourself sitting in another goddamn plush leather seat. You sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed and jaw tight as Logan settled into the seat across from you. He had the same clipboard as earlier, only now he looked far more official—still rugged and casual in demeanor, but with a sharpness in his gaze that said he wasn’t here to play around. 

“Alright (Y/N),” he started, clicking his pen. “This is just a standard intake. I know you did it before coming here, I just gotta get some background myself, so we know how to help you.” 

“Help me,” you muttered under your breath, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan raised a brow but didn’t take the bait. “First question: How are you feeling?”

You scoffed, leaning back in the chair. “Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied dryly, jotting something down on the clipboard. “We’ll circle back to that. What about your usual stress levels? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero.”

He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “And what do you usually do to blow off steam?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Work. Run. Avoid people.”

Logan hummed thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “Not exactly workin’ out for you, is it?”

Your glare could’ve cut glass. “What’s your point?”

“No point,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Just gettin’ to know you.”

He finished scribbling and set the clipboard aside, leaning forward slightly. “Last question. You think you belong here?”

You faltered, his sudden intensity throwing you off balance. “What does it matter what I think? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But if you’re gonna be here, might as well make it worth somethin’. Otherwise, you’re just wastin’ your own damn time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air as he stood, gathering his clipboard and pen. “That’s it for now. I’ll see you around, sunshine.”

As he walked out, you couldn’t help but feel like Logan saw more of you in that brief exchange than most people ever did—and it unnerved you.

—

You felt the weight of Logan’s questions long after the session ended. Sure they were simple questions but it’s not like it wasn’t anything he couldn’t look up himself if he tried. The way his eyes had fixed on you, intense and unyielding, had unsettled you more than you cared to admit. You tried to shake it off, but it lingered like a bad taste, gnawing at the back of your mind. 

When you walked back to the common room, the group session was finally finishing up. Everyone slowly filtered out, but you stayed behind. You didn’t want to be around people—didn’t want anyone to see how much you were clenching your fists or how your jaw was tight enough to bruise. 

Sitting back down in your (un)claimed seat, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back to stare at the painting on the far wall. Your mind kept drifting back to Logan’s words, his calm, almost knowing demeanor. You hated how easily he had gotten under your skin. 

It wasn’t just the questions. It was the way he looked at you, like he understood everything without you saying a word. You didn’t want to think about that, either.

You stood abruptly, deciding a walk through the facility might clear your head. But when you stepped into the hallway, you saw Logan leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, a smirk barely hidden behind his usual indifference.

“Lost?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You didn’t answer, trying to walk past him. You didn’t need another interaction, especially with him. But he moved just enough to block your path.

“You think you’re just gonna keep brushing me off, huh?” he said, voice low and amused.

“You really love to push buttons, don’t you?” You didn’t bother hiding the irritation in your voice.

His grin widened, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, his gaze softened, almost unreadable. “I don’t push buttons. I just call it like I see it.”

You glared at him, biting back a retort. But when he finally stepped aside, giving you space to walk past him, you couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of relief and frustration. 

—

The next time you saw Logan, it was in another session. Group therapy again. You’d kept your distance as much as possible, staying silent while the others participated. You weren’t interested in talking about your feelings—not to strangers and definitely not to Logan.

As the facilitator guided the group through an exercise, you sat stiffly, arms seemingly permanent crossed. You tried to block out everything and everyone, focusing on the wall in front of you. 

You were here, just like your parents had wanted. That should be enough. 

Logan had been observing you quietly, and when the session ended, he was the first one to walk over.

“You gonna keep that scowl on your face all day, or are you gonna get over yourself?” His voice was sharp, but there was an edge of concern underneath, like he was watching you closely.

You didn’t want to feel anything anymore, didn’t want to stay caught up in the mess of emotions or the frustration building inside you. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Before you could snap back, the door to the group room swung open, and the others filed out. Logan stepped closer, his presence so commanding that you felt the air grow heavier around you.

“Why don’t we step outside for a second?” he suggested, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to coax you into something you didn’t want.

You glared up at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

But something in his eyes—some unspoken understanding—made you pause. Against your better judgment, you followed him out into the hallway.

Once the two of you were out of earshot from the others, Logan stopped and turned to face you. The air between you was thick, charged with something you couldn’t name.

“You’re acting like a kid,” he said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’m just tired of pretending I’m fine when I’m not,” you shot back, your voice sharp and biting. The frustration you’d been holding in for days boiled to the surface, your words barely contained.

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He was too used to dealing with people like you. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got a lot of tension in you, huh?” His eyes trailed the length of your body. 

You didn’t respond, the anger started to bubble up again, your hands clenched at your side but something about his steady presence seemed to disarm you. Maybe it was the way he didn’t back off, didn’t try to force anything.

He only took a step closer, and for the first time, you didn’t flinch. His hand moved to your shoulder, the touch firm but gentle.

“I’m not here to push you, [Y/N],” he said, his voice low. “But you gotta know—holding all that in? It’s gonna eat you up.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to control the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. “I don’t need advice,” you muttered, feeling vulnerable in a way you hated.

“I don’t need advice,” you repeated, except the words coming out sharp, and defensive this time. You hated the way your chest felt tight, the vulnerability creeping in from where Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder. 

The warmth from his touch spread across your skin, and for a moment, it felt like it was sinking into your bones, grounding you in a way that made your stomach twist. You didn’t need anyone grounding you. You didn’t need him to make you feel this way.

Logan’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his expression remained steady, like he was waiting for you to crack. “You sure about that?” he asked again quietly, his tone almost too calm.

You felt it then, the tension pooling inside you, the anger at yourself for even considering his words. You were independent. You didn’t need anyone to fix you. You hadn’t needed anyone before to figure things out. And you especially, didn’t need some wannabe shrink to start telling you how to manage your life.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and removed it from your shoulder. You did it quickly, as if his touch burned you, trying to ignore the way his heat lingered on your skin. You told yourself it was about reclaiming your space, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the way you resented the way his warmth had made you feel—like you weren’t enough on your own, like you needed him, and it made you bitter.

You didn’t meet his eyes as you moved away. The weight of his gaze felt like too much, like he could see right through you. “I’m fine,” you muttered for what seemed like the umpteenth time, turning away before he could say anything more, before you could let him see how much you were feeling.

Each step you took away from him was deliberate, quick. You weren’t going to let him break you down, weren’t going to let him see how much you wanted the relief he might even be able to offer. You didn’t need him. You’d never needed anyone, not like that.

The hallway stretched out in front of you, a quiet reminder that you could handle this—you could handle this.

—

The next few days passed in a haze. Every session, every group exercise felt like you were just going through the motions, barely containing the storm brewing inside you. You could still feel Logan’s hand on your shoulder, the way it had made you feel both furious and small, and it gnawed at you. You told yourself you were fine, but the anger lingered, thick like smoke in your lungs.

You were sitting in the group room again, the usual chatter around you fading into white noise. Your focus was elsewhere—just trying to survive the hour without having to say a word. You were about to tune out completely when you heard it.

“She’s just another fucking drama queen.”

The voice came from across the room, a low murmur between two of the other patients. You didn’t need to hear more. You already knew they were talking about you. The words were sharp, cutting through the air with a venom that dug deep into you.

You snapped your gaze in their direction, fury immediately surging through you. The mocking tone, the casual dismissal—it was too familiar, too reminiscent of the shit you’d put up with at your last job. You could feel the rage flooding your chest, hot and suffocating. It was a sensation you knew too well, one that had always pushed you to the edge before.

And now, it was back.

The room started to shrink around you. The noise of their laughter, the snickers, the sideways glances—all of it evaporated as your anger took over. Your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms.

You didn’t care anymore. You needed to make it stop. You needed to hit something. You tried grounding yourself, but it was too late. Your body had already taken over. Your legs were pushing you forward, jumping over your seat in a split-second decision. You saw red, your entire body screaming for release, for someone to just stop dismissing you. But before you could close the distance, a firm hand shot out, grabbing you mid-air.

“Hey!” Logan’s voice cut through the chaos in your mind—or in the room, it was hard to tell—his voice sharp and commanding.

You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist—hard, like steel, pulling you back. You let out a shout of frustration, trying to twist free, but Logan’s grip didn’t falter. It was like he was two steps ahead, as if he had already anticipated your move, as if he knew exactly what was about to happen. His voice was in your ear now, low and unwavering.

“[Y/N], enough,” he said, his tone hard but not cruel. “This isn’t the way.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Logan yanked you backwards with a force that left you no room to fight it. In an instant, he’d pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the hallway with such speed that no one could have comprehended what just happened. There was a stunned silence behind you as you were pulled out of the room, your feet barely touching the ground as Logan kept a firm hold, his steps echoing through the hallway.

“Let me go!” You tried to struggle, to twist your way free, but his grip tightened, holding you firmly as he pushed you further from the group.

“No,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Not until you calm down.”

You were breathing hard, the adrenaline coursing through you. Your pulse was a drum in your ears, and you could feel the heat of your anger radiating off you in waves.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” you spat, still trying to break free. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

You tried to tear his arm away, but Logan’s grip tightened, his body pressing into yours as he moved with precision, dragging you down the hallway without a word. The moment you realized what was happening, the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. Your anger, your rage—it all crashed down as you found yourself being physically restrained, the helplessness burning in your chest.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled you down another hall, his face impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body as if he was just as ready to snap as you had been moments ago. But he wasn’t letting you. He wasn’t letting you lose control.

“Let me go!” you snarled, struggling against his grip, but again, Logan didn’t even flinch. He kept moving, keeping you contained, his presence too overwhelming for you to break free from.

When he finally stopped, it was in a hallway, somewhere far enough from anybody that no one would hear you—no one would witness how you’d almost cracked. He barely released his hold on you, but not before pushing you back against the wall, his body still towering over you, blocking your every escape route.

“Take a breath,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was speaking to someone who might break apart at any second.

His grip on your arm softened, but only just enough for you to feel the tension in his hand. He wasn’t letting go, but he was giving you space to breathe, to calm down if you could.

“You’re better than this. So stop acting like a fucking fool, [Y/N].” He said, his voice lower now, almost like a warning.

Your chest was still heaving, your body still tense with frustration, but hearing him say that—hearing him treat you like more than just a hothead, like you were capable of something better—suddenly made it all feel worse. The tears you’d been holding back started to burn at the back of your eyes, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that you felt so weak, so fucking out of control.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you like you were broken. He wasn’t judging you, even though you knew you deserved it. He was just�� there. Silent. Waiting.

You wrenched yourself out of his grip (despite both your dismay) and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain some composure.

“Just… don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Logan said nothing. He didn’t have to. The silence between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you could easily put into words.

But it didn’t matter. You couldn’t let it matter. Not now.

You turned and walked away, not looking back. 

You barely took a few steps before the frustration began to bubble up again. You had only just started to walk away from Logan, but the moment you stepped around the corner and out of sight, it felt like the world was pressing in on you again.

The laughter from the group still rang in your ears. “Drama queen.” The words clawed at your skin, digging into you like a constant reminder of everything you hated—being dismissed, being belittled.

You were done. You couldn’t keep holding it in. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as you spun on your heel, slamming your hand against the wall. The sharp sound of your palm against the cold surface echoed in the hallway, but it wasn’t enough. The rage, the helplessness—it was all too much.

“Fuck!” you hissed, breath coming in sharp bursts as you stared at the spot where your hand had just struck the wall, feeling the dull sting radiating through your knuckles. 

You couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was too much. You were tired of being on the edge, of trying so damn hard to be perfect at everything—at work, at life, at keeping it all together. Everyone depended on you to do everything. Always being there, and put together.

But right now? You didn’t want to be. You didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Your body was shaking with the weight of it all—the frustration of being forced to be something that was overwhelming, the anger at yourself for letting it all pile up until you exploded.

You wanted to break. You wanted to let go—but you knew you couldn’t. You couldn’t afford to. You’d kept it locked away for so long, keeping everything in check, trying to make sure no one saw the truth behind the mask. Who knew what would happen if you let yourself slip away, even just a smidge. You were already forced to be somewhere you didn’t want to be, you couldn’t risk losing anything else. But the anger… the helplessness… It was too much. You were suffocating, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

And that’s when it hit you: This is why you were here.

You couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t keep pretending that you had it all together. You were falling apart at the seams, and the pressure—the pressure of trying to control everything—was finally breaking you.

You spun around, not knowing what you were doing, just feeling the surge of emotions all crashing in. You needed to hit something again, harder. You needed to feel something, anything, that would make it stop. But before you could even move an inch, a voice cut through the chaotic storm inside your mind.

“[Y/N]?”

It was Logan.

You didn’t even turn to look at him. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Hell, you didn’t even want to see yourself like this.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you snarled, voice hoarse as the tears welled up, but you fought them back. Not yet. Not here. Not now.

But Logan was already there. In an instant, his hands were on you, trying to turn you, pulling you against him, his arms firm and unyielding. You tried to twist, to pull away, but his grip was too strong. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to break—because you did.

But you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let anyone see how much you were falling apart. You were so fucking tired of pretending to be fine, you were ready to break but not in front of him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Logan tried to pacify your struggles, as his hold on you failed to waver. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t about controlling you. His presence was heavy—comforting in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in so long.

The tears came the more you struggled in his grip, despite all your efforts. Hot and fast, they burned your face, dripping onto the linoleum floor, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You wanted to stop them. You hated it. You hated feeling this weak.

But Logan just held you as your body went slack. His grip tightened, pulling you into him. Not to silence you, not to force you to do anything, but to hold you steady, to keep you from falling completely apart.

“I told you not to touch me,” you choked out through the tears, voice breaking as you finally let yourself give into him, your body shuddering against his. You were shaking—not just with the anger anymore, but with the helplessness that had been buried so deep.

You tried once more to push him away, weakly, but it was like fighting against a wall. His chest was too solid. His presence was too overwhelming. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want him to see the cracks.

But there was no escaping it now. The reality of everything you’d been holding inside came rushing at you, and it hurt. It hurt more than you could even process.

Logan didn’t speak. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just let you break in silence. His arms around you were steady, not demanding. They didn’t try to pull you back from the edge. They simply were. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe as you were.

When he finally loosened his grip and you finally pulled yourself away from him, still sniffling, you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t look at him like this.

“Please, don’t touch me anymore,” you muttered, voice shaky, and with that, you turned away, your feet dragging as you walked down the hall. You didn’t look back. Not once.

But you knew, in that moment, something had shifted between you. Something in you had cracked.

And Logan knew it too. He didn’t stop you this time. He didn’t chase you. He just let you go.

The silence in the hallway hung heavy in the air after you walked away. Logan stood there for a long moment, the weight of the last few minutes settling over him. He hadn’t expected the tears, the rawness that tore through you, but the way you’d fought it all—fought him—made something click in his mind.

He didn’t follow you. He didn’t try to force anything. Instead, he gave you space. Because deep down, he understood.

He didn’t move from where he stood immediately. He wanted to give you time. You needed it. Needed to process it all.

When he finally did move, it was slow. The hallway was too quiet now, too empty. His hand rested on the wall, his mind replaying the moments that had just passed, trying to piece everything together. What did you need? He hadn’t known before, but now? Now, something was different.

—

It had been a few days since you’d broken down in the hallway. Logan hadn’t pushed you since, letting you process things on your own, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you’d finally let your guard down, even if just for a moment, before retreating again. He’d stayed close but careful, offering support in quiet ways, waiting for you to let him in.

You walked into your room, your steps slow, your mind racing. As you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t stop the image of Logan holding you from replaying over and over in your head. The warmth of his embrace still lingered on your skin, even though you had pushed him away.

A soft knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You knew who it was but, if you looked at him again, you weren’t sure you could hold it together. You needed space. You needed time.

Another knock. A little louder this time.

You dragged a shaky breath into your lungs, wiping your face with the back of your hand. You hated this—hated the fragility of it all. But the pressure inside you hadn’t subsided. You could feel the ache in your chest, the pull to break again.

“[Y/N]?” Logan’s voice came through the door, low, steady. “Can I come in?”

You stayed quiet. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to shut him out. But you couldn’t. You knew deep down you didn’t want him to go away. Not now. Not after everything.

The door creaked open slowly, and Logan stepped inside, his eyes cautious. He didn’t push, didn’t say anything. His presence was still heavy, but it wasn’t demanding. The door shut behind him with a soft thud, followed by a small discernible click. 

He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t offer any words of comfort. He just watched you, letting the silence hang between you. You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest, the uncomfortable feeling of being seen too clearly, but this time, it wasn’t like before. He wasn’t trying to fix you.

You could feel the distance between you. He was there, but he wasn’t pushing.

He shifted, taking a step closer, but not too close. It was a subtle offer, a quiet invitation.

The silence stretched between you like a taut string, every breath you took loud in the otherwise still room. Logan didn’t rush you. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, his presence calm, steady, like an anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

“I thought I told you to leave,” you said, your voice wavering despite the steel you tried to inject into it.

His lips twitched, a barely-there smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You didn’t say a word, sunshine. Just figured you might need someone who’ll stick around—Help take care of you.”

You hated how much his words hit the mark, hated how the rawness inside you stirred at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Logan took another step closer, his boots soft against the floor. The click of the lock earlier seemed louder now, echoing in your mind.

“You’re my nurse,” you whispered, like a warning, but your words lacked conviction.

“I am,” he agreed, his voice low but even. “And that means takin’ care of you, even if you fight me on it. Especially if you fight me on it.” The tone in his voice emphasizing the last part—as if the fight you put up brings a rush to his blood. 

You scoffed, your instinct to push him away rearing its head. “This feels like more than taking care of a patient.”

His gaze softened, but it didn’t waver. “Maybe. But does it matter? You’re not by yourself anymore—not in here. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re fine when you’re not. Let me help you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. He saw too much, and yet, you didn’t feel the urge to run. You felt… understood. The wall you’d built around yourself since arriving finally cracked, just enough for his steady gaze to slip through.

“You don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head, your hands clenching the edge of the bed. “I’ve always had to hold it together. Always. If I let go—” Your voice broke, a sharp crack in the stillness.

“You won’t fall apart,” Logan interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting on his knees, his body just close enough to block out everything else. “You’ve been doin’ this on your own for too long. Let someone else shoulder some of it.”

His hand lifted slowly, giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. His fingers brushed against yours where they gripped the edge of the mattress, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“Logan…” Your voice trembled, a mix of warning and plea.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “Just let me help.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore. The way his thumb traced over your knuckles was gentle, but there was an unspoken promise in his touch.

He shifted closer, his legs brushing against yours now. The tension in the air thickened, your pulse quickening as his steady gaze roamed your face. There was something in his expression—something deeper than concern. His job might have brought him here, but the way he looked at you was anything but professional.

“Logan,” you said again, this time softer, your voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in slightly, the rough edge of his voice brushing against your skin. “Let me in, sunshine. Just this once.”

Your walls wavered, the vulnerability threatening to spill over. The ache in your chest was unbearable, the pull to let go stronger than your fear. He wasn’t just offering to help; he was offering himself.

Your breathing grew shallow as his hand slid up, his fingers curling lightly around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the bed and into his. You opened your eyes as you let him guide you, avoiding all chances to truly look him in the eyes, his movements slow, and deliberate, until your hand rested against his chest.

He shifted and his other hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a slow, grounding motion. “Let me take care of you. All you’ve gotta do is trust me, sunshine.”

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as his thumb slid lower, grazing your bottom lip. You froze, your mind racing, but Logan didn’t push further—he just waited, his touch firm but patient.

The shift was subtle, but it was there—the change in the air between you. He wasn’t just offering comfort anymore. He was asking for surrender, for trust in the most intimate way.

And God help you, you were ready to give it to him anything he asked for. 

The tension between you crackled, thick and electric, but his touch remained steady, grounding. Logan’s thumb brushed the curve of your cheek, slow and deliberate, before tracing the edge of your jaw. His movements weren’t hurried—there was no rush, no demand—just an unspoken invitation.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like he was coaxing you down from a ledge. “Ain’t so hard to let someone else take the reins for a bit, is it?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed down, brushing the side of your neck. The warmth of his palm lingered, the weight of his hand firm enough to quiet the chaotic swirl in your mind, but not enough to drown out the muffled sounds of people passing by your door.

“I… I don’t know how,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Logan huffed a soft laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah, you do. You’re already doing it.”

His fingers shifted, sliding to the back of your neck, and you leaned into the touch before you could stop yourself. He drew you closer, just enough to feel his presence envelop you entirely. Your knees brushed against his thighs where he stood in front of you, and the heat radiating off him was impossible to ignore.

“Relax that jaw of yours,” he said, his tone still light but with a teasing edge. After caressing the nape of your neck his hand comes back to your jaw and squeezes until your lips part.  “You’ve been clenching it so tight, it’s a wonder it hasn’t locked up yet.”

You blinked at him, caught between embarrassment and curiosity. His eyes, dark and steady, met yours, and for a moment, you swore he could see straight through you.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging gently on your wrist until you slid closer towards him.

The shift brought your bodies even nearer, his hands bracketing your thighs now, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your pants. His touch was careful but deliberate, testing your boundaries while coaxing you further out of your shell.

“Let me take the lead,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower, more intimate.

You swallowed hard, feeling the ache in your chest ease as something entirely new unfurled in its place. Trust. Need. A quiet kind of surrender you didn’t know you were capable of.

“How?” you finally gave in and asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small smirk, but his gaze stayed steady, unwavering. “Like I said… starting with that jaw.”

His hand moved, knuckles grazing your chin as his thumb pressed gently against the corner of your mouth. The motion was slow, teasing, giving you plenty of time to pull back. You didn’t.

“Open up for me,” he murmured, his words a low rumble that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

The command was quiet, laced with care, but the underlying edge of authority had your pulse spiking. Your lips parted instinctively, your breath shaky as his thumb slid along the inside of your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise slipping out like it belonged there.

The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, warmth pooling in your chest—and lower.

Logan shifted closer, his other hand steadying your jaw as he studied you, his expression unreadable but intent. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his thumb retreating as he brought his hand to the hem of his pants. “Just let me guide you.”

Your breathing hitched as your eyes flicked down to his hands, the way his fingers deftly worked the knot of his drawstring pants. The quiet rustle of the fabric filled the space between you, a sound that felt louder than it was.

Logan’s movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he was waiting for any sign of hesitation from you. When your gaze lifted to meet his, you saw no rush, no impatience—just the same steady calm that made it impossible not to trust him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, his voice grounding you even as it sent your pulse racing.

You swallowed hard, your jaw relaxing further at his words, at the way his presence seemed to envelop you completely. His hand returned to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“Atta girl,” Logan praised softly, his lips curving into a faint smile, as his thumb caressed your skin. “That’s it. Just breathe for me.”

The tension that had coiled so tightly in your chest loosened a fraction as you exhaled shakily. His fingers traced along your jawline, the touch soothing and deliberate, coaxing you to focus on him and nothing else.

When his drawstrings tangled free, Logan leaned in closer, his free hand bracing against the edge of the bed beside you. His proximity was overwhelming in the best way, his warmth and scent filling your senses.

“This ain’t just about me, sunshine,” he said, his voice low and sure. He takes one hand, and brings it to your neck. His thumb finds the pulse point beneath your jaw and he brings you in closer. “This is about you learning to let go. To stop holdin’ on so tight it hurts.”

You nodded faintly, swallowing against his palm, your body responding before your mind could catch up. There was no space for second-guessing, no time for overthinking—not with the way Logan looked at you, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

“Good,” he murmured again, his tone like gravel smoothed by honey. “We’ll go slow, but I need you to trust me.” He nuzzled the side of your head, his breath tickling your skin as he slowly let go of your throat. 

Logan’s hands moved, sliding down to catch yours. His touch was firm but not forceful, the rough calluses on his palm grounding you as he pulled your hands away from your lap. He brought them up, pressing them flat against his chest.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice low and steady as your fingers splayed over his warm skin through his shirt. His familiar heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your touch, grounding you, centering you. “That’s all you gotta focus on. Just me. Nothing else matters right now.”

You nodded faintly, the tension in your shoulders coming to a still as he kept your hands there for a moment, letting you adjust.  Suddenly, a loud slam down the hallway caused you to jump and turn towards the door. He quickly grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. “What did I just say?” He quirked, all you could do was look at him, heat blooming from your neck up. 

Then, slowly once he made sure you weren’t looking away, he began guiding your hands downward.

The motion was deliberate, unhurried, as though every inch was a silent reassurance that you could stop at any time. His hands covered yours, his thumbs brushing the backs of your knuckles as he slid your palms down the planes of his torso, over the firm muscle beneath his shirt, until they rested against his hips.

Logan gave you a beat to take it in, his gaze locked on yours. His breathing was measured, but you could see the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw, the restraint he was holding onto so tightly.

“Still good?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, rougher now.

“Yes,” you murmured, barely trusting your voice as heat pooled low in your belly. You unconsciously squirmed, in anticipation, in heat who knew.  

Logan nodded, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried the same weight of approval. He waited, giving you one last chance to back out before guiding your thumbs to join his, beneath the elastic of his scrub pants.

“Easy,” he murmured, the word a quiet reminder as he guided your hands to push the fabric down slowly, exposing more of his skin. The sliver of skin burned against your fingers as you ghosted them along his body. His abdomen tensed under your touch, his breathing shifting slightly as he exhaled through his nose.

Logan let the pants hang low on his hips, one hand trailing up to cup your jaw again, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “We’ll go nice and slow,” he said, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth again. “No rush, sunshine. Just follow my lead.”

With that, he took your hands again, guiding them lower until they brushed the waistband of his boxers. His movements were steady, deliberate, as though showing you exactly where he wanted you without rushing you.

“You feelin’ brave?” he teased softly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, though his eyes held nothing but warmth and patience.

You nodded again scooching closer to the edge of the bed, and the brink of insanity, your chest tightening with anticipation. His smirk deepened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Then show me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me see what you can do.”

Logan eased back slightly, just enough to give you room to move, but his hand lingered on yours, a steadying presence as he guided your touch. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his waistband, and with a deep breath, you pushed the material down further, revealing more of him inch by inch.

The air between you grew heavier, the tension palpable as his arousal became impossible to ignore. Logan’s hand left yours, but only for a moment, trailing up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before cupping the back of your neck.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” he murmured, his voice warm and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced lazy circles at the base of your skull, grounding you as his other hand rested atop your forearm, giving you control but silently encouraging you to keep going.

You shifted slightly, your hands trembling as they moved to rest on his hips again. Logan watched you closely, his gaze steady but dark with something you couldn’t quite name. His chest rose and fell in a slow, measured rhythm, as though he were holding himself back, letting you set the pace.

When your hands brushed the bare skin of his hips, Logan inhaled a shaky breath, a faint sound escaping him that made your pulse spike. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your temple as he murmured, “Don’t overthink it. Just take what you can, sunshine. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

Your fingers curled into his skin as you leaned forward, your breath brushing against his lower abdomen. Logan’s hand slid from your neck to your shoulder, a subtle but firm anchor as he shifted slightly, giving you better access.

“Atta girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. The words sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt your hesitation ease, replaced by a quiet resolve to follow his lead.

Logan’s hand moved again, this time to rest over yours as he guided one of them lower. He didn’t stop until you were cradling the solid weight of him. Your touch lightly teasing the ache that pulsed beneath your trembling hand. Logan guided your hand to palm the rigid heat beneath his clothes,  wrapping your fingers around him. A sharp inhale escaped his lips, and you felt the faintest tremor in his muscles as your touch sent a jolt through him. 

“Slow,” he reminded you, his voice tight but still soft. “Just like that.” 

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, every shift of his body, every measured breath, drawing you further into the moment. Your fingers trembled as they traced the contours of his arousal, the fabric of his boxers doing little to disguise the heat and weight beneath. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, not in impatience but as a subtle reassurance, his silent way of telling you that you were doing exactly what he wanted.

His hips shifted just barely, an almost involuntary reaction to the way your hand brushed against him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced another soothing circle at the base of your neck, the grounding motion a stark contrast to the fire building between you. “You’ve got me, sunshine. Just keep going.”

Emboldened by his words, you pressed a little firmer, your palm smoothing over the outline of him, taking your time to explore every inch. The way he exhaled sharply, the muscles in his abdomen tensing beneath your other hand, made you feel a surge of confidence. You dared to glance up at him, and what you saw made your breath catch. His head was tilted back slightly, his jaw tight, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks. His eyes, though darkened with desire, never left yours, his focus sharp and unwavering.

“You’re taking  your time, huh?” he teased, his smirk returning, though it was tinged with a rawness that made your chest tighten. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You swallowed hard, your hand faltering for just a moment before finding its rhythm again. His reaction—the way his body leaned into your touch, the low sound he made in the back of his throat—was intoxicating. It spurred you on, your fingers brushing the waistband of his boxers again before slipping just beneath, your fingertips meeting bare skin.

You felt him twitch ever so slightly, and your cheeks twinged with excitement. There was something happening inside of you that you weren’t quite sure what to think of it. You knew what Logan was doing would’ve been demeaning as hell anywhere else, but here, now… all you wanted to do was give in, succumb to whatever it was he wanted you to do. He asked you to trust him, and so far he hasn’t shown you a reason not to. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as the realization hit you: you wanted this. More than anything, you wanted to give yourself over to him, to see what it felt like to let someone else carry the weight for once. If his touch—barely there—was enough to leave you trembling, what else could he make you feel? What more could he show you?

The thought sent a rush of heat through you, your breath quickening as your fingers finally curled around the rigid, throbbing length of him, pressing more firmly against his strained need. Logan’s soft groan rumbled through the air, stirring something deep in your chest—a quiet, unfamiliar hunger that threatened to consume you. You let yourself sink into it, letting the weight of the moment guide your movements, every brush of your touch unraveling a part of you you didn’t know existed. 

“Good,” Logan murmured, his voice warm and gravelly, the rough edge of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Just like that, sunshine. You’re doin’ perfect.”

You inched closer to the edge of the bed, the pull to be nearer to him overwhelming, almost instinctual. Kneeling now, you practically sank toward the floor, chasing the heat radiating from his body like you couldn’t bear the space between you.

Logan shifted, and before you could fully close the distance, he was pulling back. The loss of contact jarred you, a quiet whine of protest nearly escaping before you caught yourself. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, firm but gentle, stopping you in your tracks.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and steady. In one smooth motion, he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground between the two of you, the soft thud breaking the tension for only a split second.

Your gaze snapped up to meet his, eyes wide, blown out with something you couldn’t quite name—but it was there, raw and undeniable. The way he’d stopped you, how casually he’d thrown the pillow down, like he knew exactly what you needed before you did—your chest tightened, and your jaw slackened just slightly. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, yet you swore you could taste the heat rolling off him.

Logan’s eyes flickered down to your throat as you swallowed, the barest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He let out a low, rough chuckle—one that felt like gravel and smoke—and before you knew it, his hand was cradling the back of your neck, fingers splaying out against your nape and jaw in a way that had you forgetting how to breathe. The strength in his grip was tempered with something careful, deliberate, and when he tugged you forward, you melted into it willingly, chasing the pull like it was magnetic.

His lips found yours in an instant, the kiss deep and consuming, all heat and desperation that made your head spin. Logan kissed you like he was trying to unravel you, his mouth moving against yours in a way that left you pliant and eager, gasping against him. With every subtle pull of his hand, you followed, inching forward without thought, his control and your surrender melting together.

When you opened your eyes again, you were on your knees on the pillow, face to face with the aching strain beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You blinked up at him, lips kiss-swollen, as the realization coursed through you, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Logan watched you closely, his thumb brushing slowly along your jaw where his hand still lingered, as though grounding you there—reminding you that this was him, guiding you, coaxing you forward.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice dark and edged with something thick and raw. His thumb dragged along your lower lip, smirking when he noticed you shiver. “Go on. Hold me again, sweetheart.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands trembled slightly as they curled around him once more, this time with more confidence, more purpose. Logan’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke again.

“Good. Now, let me feel those soft lips of yours.” He guided you closer, the weight of his palm on the back of your neck a constant, steadying anchor as you leaned forward. Your lips brushed along the shaft first—tentative, testing—as though learning every inch of him. Logan’s breath hitched, and when you pressed a lingering kiss to the tip, his reaction shattered any lingering doubt.

A deep groan spilled from his chest, half a breathless chuckle, half a helpless sound that made your stomach twist in the best way. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the sound shaky as his muscles tensed.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, his hand tightening at your nape. You swore you felt him tremble for just a moment before his voice turned low and rough again. “Sorry, baby. Can’t help myself.”

Before you could process what he meant, his fingers slid into your hair, fisting just tight enough to make your scalp tingle, and with a gentle but deliberate motion, he pushed the tip past your parted lips. The first inch of him filled your mouth, the taste of him flooding your senses, and it was enough to make your mind blank entirely. 

He stilled, his hands firm yet tentative as they guided your gaze up to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling low in your belly and making your thighs clench involuntarily. A faint whimper escaped your throat, and you squirmed, trying in vain to adjust the soaked fabric pressing against your folds.

“Oh, pretty girl,” Logan murmured, his chest rising and falling heavily, his voice low and rough with restraint. “You’re makin’ this real hard for me.” He paused, his thumb brushing along your jaw, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You trust me to take good care of you, right?”

You nodded without hesitation, a small, ragged sound catching in your throat as heat prickled across your cheeks. You felt obscene—completely undone under his gaze—but the way Logan looked at you chased away every last shred of doubt.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his hands sliding up to cradle the sides of your neck, a gentle yet possessive hold that left your pulse fluttering wildly. Slowly, he guided you closer, his touch steady as he coaxed your mouth open.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb sweeping over your jaw, encouraging it to drop further. A strained exhale left his lips as he eased in deeper, until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. “Oh, yes—” Logan’s voice broke into a rough, shaky breath as he bottomed out, and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted to the weight of him.

“Come on, baby. I know you can take it,” he urged softly, his voice laced with both praise and challenge. Your hands rose instinctively to grip his thighs, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants as you let out a muffled moan around him.

The sound seemed to undo him further. Logan groaned low in his chest, his hand shifting to the back of your head to hold you there just a moment longer, as though savoring the feeling. You tried to quiet yourself, but the excitement coursing through you was impossible to contain—soft, needy noises escaped despite your efforts, vibrating against him as he held you still against his body.

Logan’s grip tightened at the nape of your neck, his restraint snapping like a taut wire. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly, “fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.” His hips began to move—slow at first, testing your limits—before he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He bucked into your mouth with a sharp, unrelenting rhythm, his breath coming harder and faster with every thrust. The sound of his low, guttural groans mixed with the wet noises of your mouth, the lewdness of it only spurring him on. “So perfect,” he praised, his voice cracking as he drove himself deeper. “You were made for this, weren’t you, baby? Look at you—”

The words tumbled out in a broken mix of curses and praise, his hold on you steady but possessive as he guided your head to meet each snap of his hips. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat constricting around him as your nails dug into his thighs, but the way he sounded—so utterly wrecked—sent waves of pleasure through you, making you moan around him.

“Fuck,—oh, baby, just like that—” Logan’s voice was strained, raw, his head tilting back as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He was on the brink, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his edge, but before he could lose himself completely, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking you back with a sudden, desperate motion.

You gasped, panting heavily as your lips parted, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him. His eyes were blown wide, dark with hunger, his lips slightly parted as though trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Logan hauled you upward, crashing his mouth onto yours in a heated, sloppy kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming every inch of you as he groaned against your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

The kiss was frantic, all teeth and heat as he walked you backward, his hands gripping your waist before spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you, his hands tugging at your clothes with a singular focus, stripping you bare with rough, hurried movements.

“Goddamn,” Logan muttered under his breath, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin as he sat back just long enough to yank his own shirt over his head. The sight of him—bare-chested, muscles taut and flexing as he moved—sent a fresh rush of heat pooling between your thighs.

Logan’s hands were on you in an instant, his lips crashing down against your neck as he kissed, nipped, and licked his way down your body with a ravenous intensity. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer, his grip firm and possessive as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You’re somethin’ else, sunshine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and low, vibrating through you. His teeth scraped over your collarbone before his tongue soothed the mark, leaving you gasping beneath him.

His lips trailed lower, his hot breath teasing against your chest as his hands slid up, cupping your breasts with a firm, deliberate squeeze. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Logan grinned against your skin when you arched into him, his lips wrapping around one taut peak as his fingers rolled the other, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. His eyes burned with unrestrained hunger as his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with rough, greedy caresses. “Already fallin’ apart for me, huh?”

You barely managed a nod, your head spinning as his mouth moved lower, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. His hands gripped your thighs, prying them apart as he settled between them, his gaze locked onto yours. The sight alone—Logan on his knees, his broad shoulders pinning your legs open, his lips glistening as he licked them—made your breath hitch.

“Goddamn, you’re a dream,” he rasped, his voice thick with reverence and desire. He dipped his head, his stubble brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue flicked out, teasing along your folds. The first swipe of his tongue sent a shudder through you, and Logan groaned deeply, the sound reverberating against you.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, his lips wrapping around your swollen clit and sucking lightly, drawing a sharp cry from you. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as he worked you over with unrelenting precision.

Logan alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue and quick, teasing flicks, relishing every sound you made, every twitch of your body beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive nub as his tongue dove inside you.

“God,” he growled against you, his voice rough and dripping with approval. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet, sunshine. Can’t get enough of you.” He pulled back slightly, his lips and chin slick with your arousal as he grinned up at you. “Look at you, practically undone for me already.”

You writhed beneath him, your body trembling as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his fingers replacing his mouth to keep the steady rhythm against your clit. “Logan,” you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your thighs trembling as heat coiled low in your belly.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice like velvet, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you. “Let go for me, baby. I wanna feel you fall apart.”

You were barely holding onto a thread of sanity, your head spinning, your breath hitching as Logan’s relentless tongue and fingers pushed you higher and higher. Your nails scraped against his scalp, and Logan groaned in response, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge.

Your body arched off the bed as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable peak, every nerve ending ignited under Logan's expert tongue and fingers. The pleasure crashed through you like a tidal wave, your thighs trembling violently as you cried out his name, your hands fisting in his hair.

"That's it," Logan growled against you, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction as he continued to devour you. "Let it all out for me, sweetheart."

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense that your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as if it couldn’t contain the raw ecstasy coursing through you. Logan didn’t let up for a second, his tongue working you through the aftershocks, prolonging every wave until you were left gasping and shuddering beneath him.

Before you could catch your breath, Logan was on you, his body a solid weight over yours. His hands gripped your hips, and in one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, stealing the remnants of your orgasm and turning them into something even more feral.

“Fuck,” Logan rasped, his voice rough as his hips snapped forward with an unforgiving pace. “Still so tight, baby. I’ve gotcha—just let me take care of you.”

The sensation was overwhelming—his thick cock filling you completely, his relentless rhythm pushing you further into the mattress with every thrust. Your cries mingled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your nails clawing at his back as he moved with a desperate hunger, biting and sucking at your neck, leaving marks that burned and thrilled in equal measure.

“You feel that?” he murmured darkly against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe before his lips trailed down to your jaw. “This is what you were made for—bein’ mine. My perfect little thing, takin’ me so damn well.”

His hand slid up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it with a possessive grip that sent a shiver through you. He applied just enough pressure to make your head spin, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with raw intensity. “Look at you, sunshine,” he praised, his voice low and gravelly. “So fuckin’ beautiful when you let go—when you give yourself to me.”

Your moans turned into gasps as he choked you lightly, his thumb brushing along the side of your neck, coaxing you to surrender completely. Logan’s lips found yours again, devouring your cries as his hips slammed into you, his movements erratic and desperate as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, a primal growl rumbling through his chest as his hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it tightly to spread you wider for him. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and the sheer force of him sent you spiraling again, your body clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Logan groaned, his voice breaking as he felt your walls flutter around him. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so good for me. Gonna make you mine all over again.”

You cried out as another orgasm overtook you, this one more intense than the first, leaving you trembling and incoherent beneath him. Logan’s movements didn’t falter; if anything, they grew rougher, more possessive, his thumb pressing into the base of your throat as his teeth found the tender skin of your collarbone again.

"That's my girl," he growled, his voice sharp with pride and need as your body writhed beneath his. "Look at you, squirtin’ all over me—so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your body gave out beneath him, your vision blurring as the pleasure consumed you entirely. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your cries filling the room as Logan’s relentless pace pushed you to your limits.

Logan’s hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he kissed you deeply, his tongue dominating yours as his hips drove forward with punishing intensity. His free hand roamed your body, squeezing, groping, claiming every inch of you as he chased his own release.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive, his breath hot against your ear as he gave a final, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. His body tensed, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he came, his hips rolling through his climax as if he couldn’t bear to leave your warmth.

Logan collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured softly, his voice still tinged with raw need. “So fuckin’ good, sunshine. My perfect girl.”

Logan’s grip tightened around your waist, his breath ragged as he held you in place, your body still trembling beneath him. His chest heaved, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, savoring the feel of you around him. His voice was low, a dark satisfaction lacing every word.

“See how good it feels to let go, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes bored into yours. "I told you, just had to trust me."

You didn’t respond with words, your gaze locking onto his as you fought for breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The only sound in the room was your uneven breaths and the faint, rhythmic pulse of his dick still buried deep inside you.

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward with unrelenting force. The kiss he claimed you with was messy and possessive, his tongue dominating yours, tasting, owning you in every way. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, making it harder to breathe, but you didn’t care. You were lost in him, completely, mindlessly, heart in your throat as he claimed you like this.

You were on top of him now, your body straddling him, both of you entwined in a messy, raw dance that didn’t need words—just the wet slide of your lips, the heat of his skin, the desperate shallow thrusts that made everything blur. His kiss was greedy, ferocious, as though he needed you to know that you were his—his plaything, his perfect girl.

You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of him still deep inside you enough to keep your thoughts scattered and incoherent. Logan didn’t pull away. He kept you close, his tongue in your mouth, tasting, owning, until you could barely keep your eyes open, your body consumed by him —sloppy, messy, and completely possessive, as if the world could end and all that mattered was this. All that mattered was you, beneath him, in his arms, on top of him, held and claimed by his every touch.

And as you melted into the kiss, body trembling and mind slipping into a daze of pleasure, everything else faded. All that remained was the feel of him, the sound of his breath, and the heat that still burned between you.

---

a/n: smooches! (reblog pls)

[fairsexynasty]

request::

super soft cuddle sex with xavier, tired!reader 😍 omg i cant get over it

𓍯˚˖🕷️★🕸️જ — VIGILANTE, (SHIT.)

˚.🖋️◗ xavier thorpe x vigilante-fem!reader

summary: after a hard night of looking over Nevermore and Jericho, on the prowl for a now-loose Tyler Galpin, you come home to your boyfriend, seeking the best of comfort.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pnv (unprotected; assume reader can take care of that by herself), cockwarming, somnophilia, consent given to new kink(?)/non-conciousness, tending to wounds, light angst

a/n: went a bit off the rails after an amazing dream i had where xavier was like mj and i was like peter </3

“Please contain me before I roll my face in shards of glass,” you announce as you walk into Xavier’s dorm. Your shoulders droop down as you lean against his door, posture horrendous. It’s been a long day. Cuts adorn your face, the blood mostly dried up— the Hyde had finally gotten his claws on you. You had countered Tyler in an abandoned house at the edge of town, but things went awry when your powers flipped on you. You were too tired, and you got your ass kicked.

Xavier’s eyes trail down from your face, however, to the stain of crimson soaking through your white tee. “Holy shit, babe, it looks like you went swimming in a pool of it-“ he gets up from the bed and runs over to your slouched frame, picking you up in his arms, and setting you down on his bed.

He dashes to the bathroom, and he says something you can’t quite make out through all his rummaging in the drawers— or maybe you’re loosing a lot of blood.

“What was that?” you sound so weak, it’s pathetic.

“I said,” he comes back into the room, holding a first aid kit and a roll of gauze. “I’m putting you on probation.” You looked at him incredulously.

“Xavi. The Hyde will hurt whoever he’s feeling vengeful against,” You hold his hand, caressing his palm with your thumb. “I can’t let anything happen to anyone, especially you. And if I have to sacrifice some things just to make sure you’re safe, I’m willing to do everything it takes.”

“Squeeze my hand.” Though confused, you squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, albeit weakly. He lets out a wet laugh, tears brimming in his eyes as he quickly turns to get sanitation for your wounds. “You’re not going anywhere, until you have all the strength and help you need. I need— I need you to come back to me in perfect condition for as long as I can,” he croaks out. He turns back to look at you, glistening trails running down his cheeks. “You hear me, Y/N?”

You nod slowly, feeling guilty for making Xavier so worried. The wounds are getting to you, so you close your eyes as Xavier patches you up. Your hand moves to thigh and caresses it throughout the process, letting Xavier know you’re very much conscious.

He wipes at blood and dabs anti-bacterial fluid on your wound with shaky breaths. He feels horrible for you, but at the same time, the way you contract upon contact, the soft groans you let out as his actions, he can’t help but think he needs to take care of you to the fullest of his extent. He needs to taste you so it lingers on his tongue and reminds him you’re there with him.

He clears his throat. “‘M done, baby.”

You open your eyes, giving a soft smile to him. Sitting up, you caress his cheeks and trace the dried paths of his tears. “Thank you. You’re so good to me, Xavi.” You place a kiss upon his lips. Once you pull away, you realize he’s straining in his pants. “You’re such a good boy, Xavi,” you whisper against his mouth before meeting his lips in a more passionate kiss, your teeth catching his bottom lip as he lets out a whimper.

Tongue sliding across his lips, you pull your boyfriend’s chin, allowing you to explore inside his mouth, a wet cavern. With each kiss, your core grows warmer and warmer, accompanied by a wetness pooling in between your thighs.

“Wanna take care of you,” he moans. Leaning over your body, he wraps his arms behind your neck, cradling you. “Please, please let me? Need to feel you, please?”

You nod before you start mouthing at his neck, gnawing at the skin lazily. As you drag your lips down to his collarbone, he lifts your hips to take off your skirt, smoothly sliding it off your legs along with your underwear. His fingers drag along your folds, collecting the slick that drips onto his sheets. He lays on his stomach, bending your legs with his hands as he immediately dives in for a taste of your pussy. His tongue parts your folds, slowly retracting and pushing into your hole. He moans upon you raking your fingers through his hair, your eyes slowly closing when he looks up at you. Immediately, he pulls away, thinking you’ve fallen asleep suddenly.

“Keep going, Xavi,” you mumble. “S’ okay.”

“Okay, baby.” Relieved you’re okay with this still happening, Xavier goes back to nestle his face in your pussy. As he licks at your clit, he begins to rut against the bed. You let out soft whimpers and moans, each getting more and more conscious as you head for your release, then Xavier’s fingers come to rub at your clit, lapping at your folds. You cum, with a soft cry, your abdomen contracting.

“Need to feel me, pretty baby?” you ask Xavier, eyes half-lidded. He nods, bashful and needy. “Go ahead, baby.” You give one final nod, yawning after and closing your eyes for the night. Xavier rids himself of his sweats and boxers. His cock is flushed red and is dripping from the slit. He pumps himself a couple of times before sliding into your entrance with ease, your muscles gone lax. He takes a quick moment to look at you. Beautiful as ever, he knows he’s so lucky to be able to have you come home to him no matter where, and to trust him with something so intimate where you hold no control. He doesn’t bother to fuck into you, but instead bares himself wholly inside of you, then lays to your side, pulling your leg over his own. The warmth of your velvety walls are all he needs to know you’re okay, and you’re here with him in the moment.

[crimsonbubble]

[4:12 PM]

(warnings: fem teacher!reader, school teacher!Jongho, dilf!Jongho, mentions of blood, clothed sex, overstimulation, edging, clit play, fingering, cum eating, brief spanking, mirror sex, praise, pull out method, exhibitionism, brief pet play, mentions of Mingi and Yunho)

*more and taglist after the cut*

note: @woowommy enabled me

---

"You've got to be kidding me." Jongho looked at his colleague in distaste. "Come on, you're always working, you need some time to just relax and have some fun.." Jongho quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the way Mingi held back from saying something. "You're hiding something. Spill it." Before Mingi could open his mouth again, someone opened the classroom door.

"Ah Ms. L/n, good morning." You walked into the classroom, a warm smile on your face. Jongho felt his heart rate pick up, his face turning a soft shade of pink. "Morning Mr. Song. Principal Jang wants to speak with you, she's waiting in her office." Mingi said his farewells, waving as he left the classroom. "Good morning to you, Mr. Choi." Jongho felt his throat go dry as he looked at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with what to say.

You shook him by the shoulder, trying to stifle a laugh as he stuttered off his mind. "Take a breath, slow down." Jongho filled your words, calming himself down before he embarrassed himself further. "You're awfully dressed up for a sports day." You pointed to his suit, moving your water bottle to your other hand. He let out a grumbled mess of words, running a hand through his hair. "I forgot sports day was today until Mr. Song reminded me."

You let out a laugh, making Jongho look back at you. "Well, I've seen what you can do in suits. I'm sure you'll be fine." Jongho felt his cheeks heat up, your suggestive tone and your hazy eyes made his brain go on autopilot. "Besides, you look hot." You winked at him before turning around to leave the classroom, leaving Jongho a flustered mess.

---

"Remember students, if you or another student happen to get hurt, alert one of the teachers nearby immediately. That's it from me, so have fun today!" The end of Principal Jang's message ended with a beep, letting the third, fourth and fifth grade teachers lead their students outside to their assigned stations.

---

Two students come up to you, one of them holding their arm. "Ms. L/n, they need a bandaid." You bend down, asking if you could see the scrape. The student holds out their arm, letting you inspect the wound. "Ok bud, let's get you a bandaid. You can go back and play, alright? We'll be back in a few minutes." You smile softly, leading the student to the front office. "Hey Mrs. Cho, can I have a sanitizing wipe and a bandaid?"

The front desk secretary looks from you to the student who lets her see the small scrape. She smiles and nods, walking off to the back room to retrieve the items you've requested. "Come on, let's sit down for a second." You softly nudged the student forward, letting him take a seat while you stood against the wall. A few seconds later, Mrs. Cho came back, handing you the items. "You can be brave for me, right?" The student eagerly nodded, wanting to show you that they can do as you asked.

You carefully cleaned up the small cut, quickly peeling the bandaid. "Wait, can I do it?" You smiled gently, giving the student the sticky bandaid. You watched carefully as the student applied the bandaid, who smiled triumphantly when they got it on. You gave them a high five, standing up to walk with them back outside to the field. "You did great buddy, now let's get you back outside." Before you opened the door, you turned to the student, pointing to the bandaid. "Remember to be more careful, or you'll get hurt again." They nodded quickly, running off to their friends as soon as you opened the door for them. "Thank you, Ms. L/n!"

---

You talked and laughed with other teachers, taking a pause every few minutes to check on the students. "Ms. L/n, watch out!" A chorus of students called out from behind you. A sudden chill goes through your body as you turn around. You put a hand on your back, peeling away the popped water balloon. You looked to the students, who only laughed and pointed at Jongho. He held up his hands in defence, trying to talk himself out of this situation.

He couldn't stop the smile from making its way onto his face, as he watched you set down your stuff. Mr. Jeong, a fellow colleague, handed you a water balloon, smiling at Jongho who looked almost scared. "You better start running!" You yelled as you threw the water balloon, making it pop against his chest. Jongho let out a loud laugh, running away from you as you picked up more balloons.

You chased after him, soaking him as well as yourself, laughing as Jongho surrenders when he ran out of water balloons. You stepped forward, making Jongho step back against the wall. You step back, the students cheering as you popped a final balloon over his head. Jongho looked at you in fake offence, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked at you, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath from all the running. But before you knew it, a sudden rush of cold water crashed over you. You and Jongho both yelped, looking at each other in shock.

The students and staff members laughed as they watched the scene unfold. You turned around, spotting Mr. Jeong holding a bucket. You almost lunged at him but stopped once the staff dismissed the scene. "Alright students, as fun as this is, you can get back to your play stations. Mr. Choi and Ms. L/n can head inside to dry off." Principal Jang laughed as she ushered teachers to lead their students back to their stations. You couldn't even deny it, he looked so hot right now. His black hair wet and sticking to his face, his clothes soaking wet and sticking to his well defined and sculpted body.

Jongho turned to you, eyeing up and down your body, trying not to let his eyes linger on your chest for too long. Though Jongho couldn't deny that he thinks you looked hot. The way your shirt clung to your figure, more specifically your chest, made it hard to focus on anything you were saying. You could both tell that you're staring at each other, but your desire is starting to peek through. "Let's head in shall we, m'lady?" You rolled your eyes at his antics, walking away with a slight sway to your hips.

Jongho trailed behind you, taking quick glances at your ass. He made eye contact with Mingi in the hallway, who only sent him a wink. Jongho's tongue poked at his cheek, trying to hide his smug smile. Jongho scanned around him, making sure the classrooms and hallways were empty. Once the coast was clear, he sped up to you, throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a small yelp, staring down at the ground, shocked as Jongho rushed to the nearest staff washroom. Locking the door behind him, Jongho set you down, turning you around to face the small mirror above the sink.

"You can stay quiet for me right, baby?" You nodded eagerly, your grip tightening on the brim of the sink. "Please Jongho, just fuck me." Jongho unbuttoned your shorts, tugging down to your thighs along with your panties. Jongho leaned into your neck, placing sloppy kisses on it as he tugged down his own pants and boxers. He let out a shaky breath, sliding his cock through your folds. You spread your legs as far as you could, giving the fact that your shorts are around your thighs.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make you feel good." His voice went down an octave making your pussy throb. You leaned forward, pushing your ass out to him. "Even going as far as presenting yourself to me, so needy." Jongho slapped your ass, making you let out a soft whine. Jongho trailed his middle two fingers through your folds, carefully pushing into your hole. You pushed back against him, moaning as he thoroughly scissored you open. "So pretty, baby, always so fucking pretty." Jongho groaned as you clenched around his fingers at the praise. You've never felt this full before, your fingers not being as long or thick as Jongho's, making you push back against him as you release over his fingers.

"Aww, look how fucked out you are, and I haven't even fucked you yet." You look up, catching your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks heat up as Jongho laughs from behind you, his fingers not stopping even as you come down from your first high, already working for a second. You bit your lip, trying to stop the flurry of moans that threatened to leave you as Jongho steadily pumped his fingers into you. "You can be good and cum again, right?" You desperately nodded, wanting nothing more than to hear him praise you for taking all that he gave you. "Always so good, so well behaved." He mused as his other hand languidly stroked his throbbing cock.

Jongho quickly brought you to your second high, rubbing against your sweet spot as your hips jolt. Jongho leaned over you, kissing up your neck. "F-fuck, Jongho please fuck me, need you so bad." You whined, looking at him through the mirror with glossy eyes. He smirked, pulling his fingers out of you to slide his cock against your folds again. He pushed forward, his tip brushing against your clit, making you clench around nothing. "Think you can take it, darling?"

Jongho watched in amusement at how you begged, loving how easy it was to make you fall apart. Feeling strung too high, Jongho pushed into you. Your back arched as Jongho slowly pushed in, inch by inch. He stretched you out deliciously, reaching deeper than you thought anyone could. You shook under him, making him laugh as he held your hips. "You really can take it," Jongho watched how his cock disappeared inside you, "Taking my cock like the pretty little baby you are." You moaned loudly, making Jongho cover your mouth. "Seems like you want us to get caught." You whined against his hand, your back arching as he pulled out only to slam back in.

Jongho fucked into you vigorously, slowly losing his self control with how warm and tight you feel around his cock. Your knees buckled and you would've fallen if it wasn't for Jongho holding you up and the sink you were leaning on. Peering through the mirror, your eyes rolled back at the sight. Jongho's dark eyes hooded, his head thrown back with his hair sticking to his forehead, his rolled up sleeves showing off his toned arms and pulsing veins; he looked delicious. But you can't seem to think as Jongho fucks the common sense out of you. Your cunt clenches around him as you cum. You can feel yourself drool against his hand, listening intently to the deep moans Jongho lets out.

---

It's been at least five minutes and Jongho has managed to pull four orgasms out of you. How he's still holding on is a mystery, but you don't mind because he feels so good rubbing against your sweet spot. "O-oh fuck, gonna cum." You tried to meet his thrusts halfway, your ears ringing as Jongho pulls you back. Jongho pulls you away from the sink just far enough to have you completely bent over for him.

"Aah fuck-" Jongho pushed the back of your shirt up, before pulling out and releasing on your wet back. Your cunt throbbed as you felt his cum spurt onto your back. "You did so well for me, took me so well." Jongho patted your ass, humming softly but his next action almost made you cum untouched. Jongho held your hips as he leaned down, dragging his tongue over his own mess. You let out a whine, feeling his warm tongue slide across your skin. Jongho laughed against your skin, leaving a kiss on your spine before letting your shirt fall back into place.

"This is far from over," You looked back at him shocked, nearly choking on your spit. Jongho looked at you with a smirk, his eyes trailing down to your exposed cunt. "You'll just have to wait until after hours to get a good taste of what I can do to you, my pretty pup."

---

@a-soft-hornytiny @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @hanatiny @hyetiny @latte-fairytaekwoon @multidreams-and-desires @mingisstar1117 @serialee @seongsangsgf @strawberry-joong @vocalyunho @yunhofingers @yunhospuppy @minhyukmyluv @yunsangoveryonder

[marvelous-harry]

Caught In a Lie Part 2

Harry/Florence/Reader Warnings: Needles, Dom!Harry, Dom!Florence, Sub!Fem!Reader Words: 4.9K Summary: It's time for the dreaded doctor's appointment. A/N: This took so long to finish cause of life and general writers' block. Hopefully, the story will be worth the wait! Part 1 “Babe, it’s time to wake up,” Harry whispered as he sat down at the edge of the bed and stroked a hand over my hair. Whimpering, I pulled on the blankets while shaking my head. “Still sleepy,” I whispered. “Cuddle,” I added as I grabbed his hand and hugged it.

“It’s 9.30 am love. You need to get up and get ready. Your doctor’s appointment is at 11, remember?” Harry said softly, leaning down to hug me as he pressed kisses to my cheek.

“I don’t feel very well, we should reschedule,” I whispered, keeping my eyes firmly closed and burrowed further into my pillow and blankets.

“That just means it’s even more important that we go to the doctor, baby,” Harry sighed as he sat up.

“Nooo!” I protested as he put his hands around me and lifted me up. “No! I’m not going, you can’t make me. I want Flossie!” I whined as I finally opened my eyes and looked at him. “Flossie!” I whimpered and tried to get out of his hold.

“Florence is at work, she left hours ago. We are going to the doctor, now you have 45 minutes to get ready and have something to eat. I don’t care if you spend those minutes being a brat, I’ll take you over my knee and then drive you there while you’re still in your pajamas. That choice is yours,” Harry said sternly as he gripped my jaw.

I whimpered and hugged him tightly as he let my jaw go. “But I don’t want a spanking!” I told him, pouting as I looked up at him.

“Well you better behave then so I don’t have to spank you,” Harry said with a little smile as he poked my nose. Grumbling, I pressed my face against his neck and played with his cross necklace.

“I know you’re worried and overthinking it but I’ll be right next to you the whole time if that’s what you want. It’ll be over before you know it. You can squeeze my hand as tightly as you can the whole time,” Harry spoke gently. “You need to go get ready like a good girl now okay? I’ll go make you some toast for breakfast,” he said as he pulled back.

Nodding, I stopped playing with his necklace. “Okay but I don’t want any breakfast. I’m not hungry,” I told him as I started moving off his lap.

“I’ll chop you up some fruit and if you still don’t feel like having anything when you’re done getting ready we can just eat it later,” Harry replied as he got off the bed and pulled the blankets down and over to air them and the mattress out. I just hummed a little note as I walked into the bathroom to get a quick shower and get dressed.

-

Pulling the cardigan tightly around me, I chewed on my lip as I walked into the kitchen where I could hear Harry moving about. A quick glance at the clock let me know we should probably start driving into town soon.

“I’m ready,” I announced and sat down on one of the kitchen table chairs. Picking at my nails, I kept staring at them as Harry put a glass of juice and a little plate of different kinds of fruit on the table next to me.

Harry pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me. “You should try and eat some and have the juice,” he said, pulling the plate closer while nudging me with his knee.

I moved from my chair and sat down on his leg. Twirling a strand of his hair around my fingers, I kissed his neck before moving up to his mouth. Closing my eyes, I kissed him eagerly as his hands went to my hips. Moaning, I stroked my hand down his t-shirt and over his crotch.

“Baby, stop,” Harry said as he ended the kiss and moved my hand off his crotch. “But I want to taste you. Please!” I pouted as I moved my hand back and stroked him gently.

Harry grabbed my arm firmly and moved it away. “That is enough. Did you think you could distract me from your appointment by offering a blow job like I’m some sex-crazed teenager? Hmmm? Do not try to manipulate me again. Now drink up your glass of juice, have a few pieces of each fruit. We need to get going,” Harry helped me off his lap before spinning me around and landing three hard smacks on my covered bum.

Sitting down, I wiped my eyes quickly before grabbing the glass of juice and chugging it down while Harry cleaned up the chopping board and wiped down the counters.

“Harry? I ate three of each, is that enough?” I asked as I pushed around a little blueberry on the plate.

Harry turned off the faucet and dried off his hands before walking over. He tilted my head up as he looked at me seriously. “Yes it is, thank you for listening. Do you understand why I got cross and gave you those smacks?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Not nice,”

“That’s right. We use our mouths to talk and we discuss if we want something, and we don’t use sex against each other to get our will either,”

“I’m sorry!” I whimpered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his wrist.

“You’re forgiven, I understand why you did it but next time I won’t be as l nice about it,” He explained and pulled me up from the chair. “Go put your shoes on, I’ll put this away,” he pressed a kiss to my cheek before grabbing the plate and the empty glass.

--

I could barely pay attention as the doctor asked me a bunch of routine questions so my answers were all over the place and before I knew it the actual doctors’ appointment was over and we were being told to go wait outside the lab for my turn to go in.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” I said as we stepped out of the doctor’s office and close the door behind us.

“Just keep breathing and if you do pass out I will catch you in my big strong arms,” Harry smiled as he put his hand around me.

“You’re not funny,” I huffed as I poked him hard in the side causing him to grin.

Waiting until Harry sat down, I took a seat in his lap and started plucking at my nails again as the nerves kept getting worse and worse.

Harry laced his fingers with mine and gave me a little smile as I leaned against him.

“Number 309?” A nurse asked as she stepped out into the hallway and looked around. I looked up at her wide-eyed and held my breath.

“Is it okay if I come in with her? She’s a little nervous about getting her blood drawn,” Harry smiled as he squeezed my hand.

“Of course! Why don’t you both take a seat at the examination table and we can have a little chat before we start,” the nurse smiled. I looked at her and she looked nice enough. Walking into the room, I took a seat next to Harry - never letting go of his hand.

“So you’re a little nervous?” the nurse asked as she sat down on her little rolling stool and moved closer to us. I nodded and bit down hard on my bottom lip.

“Is it the needle that makes you nervous or having your blood drawn? Or something else?” she asked, clasping her hands together as she looked at me. Harry stroked his thumb over my hand when I took a bit to answer.

“The needle,” I replied quietly and looked away. “I’m scared it’ll hurt or that it’ll break inside my arm,” I mumbled.

“It’s very common to feel that way. Have you had any bad experiences in the past with getting your blood drawn? Ever fainted or something like that?” she looked at me curiously. I nodded.

“I used to get sick a lot as a kid so I was at the doctors and the hospital quite often and it always hurt so much when they’d draw blood or put an IV in. And I’ve never fainted, just felt very lightheaded and like I was about to,” I explained.

“I see, I see. I can’t promise you won’t feel anything at all but it shouldn’t hurt. It should just feel like a little prick and maybe something like a pressure feeling as I move the needle just slightly into your arm. As for the needle breaking, it’s very very rare, I’ve not heard or seen it happen ever. The needles we use are made from stainless steel and it would take a great deal of force for it to break,” the nurse glanced at Harry.

“How are you with needles?” she asked while rolling over to her hand sanitizer and cleaning her hands.

“I’m good,” Harry smiled back with a small nod.

“Wonderful,” the nurse smiled as she looked back at me. “What would make you more comfortable going through the steps of what I need to do beforehand or telling you whilst I’m doing it or just do it with how I usually do it?”

I licked my lips nervously and looked at Harry for help. “You have to decide,” he urged me. “Emm just do as you normally do I guess. I don’t have to watch right?”

“No, you don’t have to watch. Could you take off your cardigan please?” she asked while grabbing her rolling tray and an arm support stand.

Letting go of Harry’s hand I slipped off my cardigan and rubbed my palms against my jeans as I looked over all the things on her tray. Blood vials in different colours, a sharps container, cotton balls, tape, and a bunch of needles were on it.

“Let’s see what hand looks the most promising,” the nurse mused as she gently turned over my arm and gave it a quick little glance before grabbing the tourniquet and securing it around my arm.

Grabbing Harry’s hand tightly, I turned my head against him and rested it against his shoulder as I tried to remember to breathe. Whimpering quietly as I felt her move my arm up on the arm support stand, and clean the inside of my elbow, I tensed up and held my breath.

“Baby, you have to breathe,” Harry whispered as he pressed a kiss to my head.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of anything else but the fact that I was about to be stabbed in the arm.

“Little pinch now,” the nurse said, causing me to squeeze Harry’s hand as tight as I could. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears and I felt slightly lightheaded as I could feel the needle going in.

“You’re doing really good, I’m almost done,” the nurse said encouragingly as she switched out the vial and put another one in. I did a sniffle and whimpered as I felt her pull the needle back out.

“That’s it! All done!” she grinned as she pressed down on the cotton ball she’d taped over the little needle prick. “The results of the blood tests will take a few days till a week and then they will be sent to your doctor and you’ll hear from her if there’s anything you need to know,” she patted my arm before she started cleaning up.

Sitting up, I looked down at my arm and pressed down on the cotton ball just in case I was still bleeding out.

“Are you feeling okay? Feeling any dizziness or like you’re about to faint?” she asked as she rolled the tray and the stand away.

I shook my head. “No, not now. I was a little lightheaded earlier but it’s gone now,” I grabbed my cardigan and held it close.

“Wonderful, that means you’re free to go,” the nurse said as she stood up and opened the door for us.

“Bye,” Harry waved as he took my hand and guided me out of the room. He glanced around the waiting room to the lab to check no one was around before kissing me hard.

“I’m so proud of you, darling! You did it! So brave,” Harry gushed and peppered little kisses on my cheek.

Giggling, I grinned. “I did it,” I said quietly and looked down at my arm again, feeling quite proud of myself.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Harry put his hand around my waist and held me close as we started heading out.

---

“I can’t wait to tell Flossie and show her. Do you know when she’s off work today?” I grinned while practically skipping up the three little steps to our front door.

Harry followed me up the stairs and unlocked the front door and held it open for me. “She’s already home,” he smiled and pointed at her keychain lying in our designated keychain bowl.

“Flossie!” I called out and kicked off my shoes. “Flossie, where are you?” I yelled again and listened for her reply while taking off my cardigan, getting ready to show her my ‘bandage’. Walking into the kitchen, I whined as she wasn’t there. “Florence!” I looked at Harry as I walked into the living room. “I can’t find her and she isn’t answering me!” I whined.

Harry rolled his eyes as he put his wallet away. “You checked one room, baby,” he chuckled and put his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go see if she’s upstairs,” he said and turned me around.

“Well to be fair the kitchen is her favorite room in the whole house so the odds were in my favor,” I grumbled slightly while walking up the stairs. Opening the door to our bedroom, I grinned happily. “Flossie!” I shouted and ran over.

Florence jumped and took the AirPods out of her ears as she turned around in her seat by the vanity and looked at Harry, who gave her a smile and a little nod before she looked at me.

“I did it! Look! I didn’t faint, bleed to death or cry!” I said as I put my arm out and showed her the little cotton ball taped to my arm.

“Baby! I’m so proud of you! Come here,” Flo smiled and opened her arms.

Sitting down on her lap, I gave her a tight hug. “The nurse was super nice and Harry held my hand the whole time,” I explained while pulling back.

Flo looked over at Harry who had taken a seat on the bed and was looking at us endearingly. “Have you thanked him for coming with you?” she asked, running her hand up my thigh.

I shook my head no and bit my lip as she got closer and closer to my crotch.

“Well, that just won't do. Why don’t you be a good girl and ask him if he’d like your mouth or your pussy as a thank you,” she said while pulling her hand back.

I nodded as I stood up, got undressed, and stepped over to where Harry was before getting down on my knees in front of him. Looking him in the eyes, I put my hands behind my back and straightened up my back. “Thank you for coming with me today, Harry. I wouldn’t have been able to get through it without you. I’d like to make you feel good, please. Would you like my mouth or my pussy to use?” I asked.

Harry let his eyes roam all over me, making me all hot and bothered as he put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You want me to use you, baby? As my own little fuck toy?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“Yes, please,” I replied eagerly.

Harry stood up and took off his jumper before shrugging off the rest of his clothes, letting it all fall into a messy pile on the floor.

Putting my hands on my thighs, I looked at his cock and took a little breath to calm myself as Harry wrapped his fingers around his hardening cock and slowly stroked himself. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Quickly opening my mouth, I stuck my tongue out for good measure and looked at him eagerly.

“Pretty girl,” Florence smiled as she walked over and stood by Harry’s side, putting an arm around him. She too had gotten undressed.

My whole body heated up with embarrassment and horniness as they looked up at me sitting here with my mouth open, on my knees, and pussy on display.

“Go on, get your lips around me,” Harry said finally as he let go of his cock.

Shuffling closer, I grasped the base of his cock as I took him in my mouth. Moaning, I closed my eyes and licked at the cock head.

Flossie pulled Harry down for a kiss. “Fuck,” Harry muttered against her lips as he put one hand on my head, grasping my hair while the other wrapped around Florence, pulling her even closer.

Relaxing my jaw, I took a deep breath before slowly easing Harry’s cock into my mouth until it hit the back of my throat. I kept it in as long as I could before easing back a bit and just bobbing my head trying to make Harry moan or grip my hair tighter, something to let me know I was doing good.

Looking up I could see that Harry and Flossie were still making out, and Harry’s hand had traveled down to her bum, squeezing and stroking it, not paying nearly enough attention to me.

I moved off his cock and licked at the head before letting my tongue lick from the base of his cock and all the way up to the head before taking just the cock head in my mouth and sucking on it.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Harry moaned and stroked my hair. “We should move to the bed. I want to eat you out,” he said as he looked at Florence.

“No objections from me,” Flossie grinned as she got up on the bed and piled the pillows together to lean on before spreading her legs.

“I want to eat you out too!” I protested as I stood up and quickly got on the bed, crawling quickly up the mattress - wanting to get to her pussy first.

“You come lie next to me, you can eat me out later. Harry is going first,” Florence patted the spot next to her.

Letting out a loud whine, I shook my head and moved a little closer to her pussy. “Me first!”

“Don’t be a greedy brat. Move,” Harry said sharply before landing a hard smack on my bum.

“It’s not fair!” I grumbled as I moved over and lied down next to Flossie, cuddling up to her as I watched Harry get between her legs. “I’m the sub, I’m the one who’s supposed to eat pussy, and suck cocks, and give you pleasure!” I protested, sticking out my bottom lip.

“If that was the case you’d never be on the receiving end of oral ever, darling,” Florence chuckled before letting out a breathy moan when Harry spread her pussy lips apart and swiped his tongue up before giving her clit a little suck.

“Well obviously it’s your job as my doms to take care of me,” I mumbled as I watched Harry.

“You clearly need to get spanked more. Such a fucking brat,” Flossie said before smacking my ass.

Harry pushed Flossie’s legs further apart with a smirk before pushing his face close and licking at her hole.

“Fuck!” Flo moaned loudly and reached down, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him even closer. “Your fucking tongue,” she hissed.

Licking my lips as I moaned. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Harry looked so good with his face buried between her legs. I didn’t know who I was more jealous of. Harry or Flossie.

“Can I touch myself, please?” I asked and glanced up at Florence. I knew I was soaking wet, feeling the slick going down my thighs.

“Don’t you dare. You’ll get the attention you so badly want in a minute,” Florence replied in between moans.

Biting my lip, I tried to ignore how that sounded more like a threat than a pleasant promise. I got up on my knees and put my hands down on my thighs as I figured it wasn’t too late to start behaving and maybe convince them I wasn’t that much of a brat.

Harry moved his lips up to Flossie’s clit and flicked his tongue over it quickly while opening his eyes and looking up at her.

“So close,” Flo moaned as she tightened her hold on his hair and rolled her hips against his tongue. Throwing her head back as Harry sucked and licked at her clit faster, Florence let out a long moan as she cummed. She panted as she closed her eyes and let go of Harry’s hair.

Harry took one last lick at her pussy before pressing a kiss to her clit. He climbed over her leg and wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing lightly as he leaned in and kissed me.

Moaning against his lips, I spread my legs as I felt Flossie stroking her hand up my thigh and stroked her thumb over my clit.

“Please. Want to cum,” I begged as two of Flo’s fingers prodded at my hole but didn’t go in. “Please,” Harry took his hand off my neck and let it fall to my boobs, taking one in each hand and used his fingers to flick at my hard nipples.

Whining as I thrust my hips into Florence’s hand. “Please! Stop teasing, I’m so close already,”

“Lie down on your back,” Harry instructed before giving nipples one final tug before letting them go.

Eagerly lying down, I spread my legs wide apart and looked at them both pleadingly. “Flossie, Harry, please,”

Florence leaned over me and kissed me slowly while she rested her hand on my lower stomach. “You want Harry to fuck you, darling? Make you cum?” she asked just as Harry teased his cockhead against my pussy lips.

Nodding quickly, I took a deep breath to try and calm down. “Please! You know I get so turned on watching you two, so hot,” I said while glancing between them.

“Oh, we know,” Harry smirked before thrusting his cock into me.

“Oh god, fuck!” I gasped, grasping onto the bedsheets and arching my back.

“All better now? Got your pussy all full and nice,” Florence teased running her fingertips up and down my stomach. I nodded, enjoying how Harry was thrusting in and out of me so deeply.

“She’s so fucking wet, love” Harry groaned as he dug his fingernails into the skin of my hips. “Don’t blame her. You’re very sexy when you get eaten out,” he grinned.

Florence chuckled and moved closer to give him a hot, deep kiss. “Not as sexy as you look between my legs,” she gave him one more kiss before giving my clit a little slap.

Letting out a little shout, I clenched around Harry’s cock and looked at them shocked. “I think I just came,” I said quietly and panted.

“From me slapping you? Did it feel nice?” she asked as she rubbed her finger over my clit.

Whimpering, I squirmed as it was even more sensitive now. “Yeah, definitely came, and no! I barely felt anything,” I whined and looked at them sadly.

“Poor little slut. Didn’t get to cum the way she wanted,” Harry teased while Florence kept rubbing my clit. “Nearly cummed as well when you clenched so tightly around me,” he said while fucking me faster and harder.

“With Harry being so generous and fucking you so nicely I think you can cum again, darling,” Florence smiled widely as she brought her hand up to my mouth and put two fingers into my mouth.

Sucking on them, I blushed and held her hand as she fucked my mouth slowly with her fingers.

“Yeah, you can,” Flo smirked and took out her fingers and put the wet fingers on my clit, stroking them up and down.

“Fuck, Flossie, please. Too sensitive,” I whined but pushed up against her and Harry as I could feel the familiar feeling of an orgasm building again. Her wet, soft fingers felt so good as she rubbed them over my clit.

Harry sped up his thrusts. “Going to cum soon,” he warned, closing his eyes as he held on even tighter to my hips.

Florence started swiping at my clit faster. “Doesn’t that sound nice, baby? Get filled up on Harry’s cum? Making him feel so good, pet. Such a good girl for us aren’t you?” she whispered close to my ear.

“Good girl for you,” I mumbled out, my fingers twitching against the bed. “I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, feeling so close again. “Please, can I? Need to cum,”

“You can cum, baby. Cum around Harry’s cock,” Florence said moving her fingers as fast as she could while Harry fucked me just as fast.

Moaning loudly, I held on tightly to the bedsheets as I cummed for the second time. Harry was moaning as well, blending together with mine as he buried his cock deep into me, filling me up.

He was breathing heavily and a strand of hair was handing over his forehead as he did a few lazy thrusts. “Fucking hell,” he breathed out before pulling out slowly.

Florence stopped rubbing at my clit and pushed her fingers into my pussy. “Jesus, you weren’t lying when you said she was wet,” she chuckled and did a few thrusts with her fingers before pulling them out. “Taste yourself and Harry,” she said and held the fingers to my lips.

Shuddering, I poked my tongue out and let it swipe over her fingers before opening my mouth and sucking off his cum mixed with my juices. I couldn’t help but moan at the taste and clean every inch of her fingers.

“Fucking hell, going to make me hard again already,” Harry said as he watched, propping himself up on his elbow.

Flo moved her fingers back down and eased them into me again.

Again, I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped me.

Florence smirked as she pumped her fingers into me a few more times before pulling them out and landing a smack to my pussy.

Letting out a little scream, I whimpered as I looked up at her with tired, hazy eyes. “Please, no more” I begged, seeing the look in her eyes.

“You got one more in you, I know it, pet. Harry, why don’t you pass me that clit vibrator that’s in the drawer and hold her hands down for me?” she asked and held out her hand.

“No, please. It’s too much, Flossie, please, I can’t cum again,” I pleaded as I brought my legs together and placed my hands over my pussy to protect myself while letting out a little sob.

“Here,” Harry handed over the vibrator before grabbing my arms and putting them over my head. He held them together with one of his hands and pulled on one of my nipples while he gave me a kiss. “Just one more, you can do it,” he whispered.

Florence spread my legs and kneeled between them as she ran a teasing finger over my sensitive clit. “You can cum when you need to,” she said while placing the vibrator against my clit.

Whimpering, I squirmed and tried to lift my arms up but they were so tired they had no chance against Harry’s grip. I got the tiniest little warning as I could hear Florence turning on the vibrator before I felt it come to life. My eyes closed and my mouth fell open as I tensed up. I could feel my orgasm building up but fuck it hurt so good. “P-please,” I stuttered out and tried opening my eyes to look at them but my eyelids were too heavy.

Harry kissed my nipple before taking it in his mouth. He placed his teeth around and pulled on it slowly before letting it go. “Turn it to the highest setting,” he told Flo and looked at her with a grin.

There was a quiet little click again before the vibrations got super strong. Pressing my heels down onto the bed, I arched up slightly and my legs trembled as I orgasmed for the third time. Collapsing back down on the mattress, I felt the vibrator getting turned off and Harry letting go of my arms.

Catching my breath, I smacked my lips as I let Harry and Flo move me around till I was under the blankets. “M’melted,” I mumbled as Harry wrapped his hands around me and pulled me close to his chest.

“Get some rest, darling. You’ve earned it,” Flossie said softly and pressed a little kiss to my forehead. I just hummed before my breath evened out and I fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Masterlist

[kuroos-moon]

Jealous Fuck Buddy Kiyoomi

☀︎︎ Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

☀︎︎ Alternate prompt: Jealous Fuck Buddy Satori

☀︎︎ Wc: 3.8 k words

☀︎︎ Genre: smut with fluff at the end 

☀︎︎ Warnings: nsfw, public sex, degradation, oral (f receiving), bit of angst

Both of your pants and shaky breaths fill his bedroom after having chased each other’s high. It was early in the morning, an hour before practice starts and you gently run your fingers through his dark curls which were slightly moist with his sweat. He rests on top of you, recovering his breath as he litters sloppy kisses on your neck, adoring you for how good you take him in, you always do. 

You were in a no strings attached relationship, yes it was untypical of Sakusa to have such a relationship with you but he knew you were clean. He eyed you head to toe the moment you were introduced as their new manager and he likes how you sanitized your hands regularly and wore a mask, but more than that, he loves your personality. 

He knew he was in love with you from the moment you scolded Bokuto for touching his things, telling him “to respect Sakusa’s germaphobe tendencies,” but somehow you were always sweet to everyone, as much as he wanted you to be more than just a fuck buddy, he couldn’t risk your rejection, so he forced himself to be content with it, at least he knew you weren’t fucking other guys, right? 

“Oomi, we still have practice to attend to,” you mumble as you kiss the top of his head and he lazily pushes himself off you. “Was I too rough?” He asks, his voice filled with concern when you wince as you were about to get up. “Rougher than usual I’d say,” you chuckle as you cup his face in your hand and give him a small peck on the cheek. 

It devastated you that you were mere fuck buddies, every single day, you’d fall deeper for him. He was always caring with you wherever you both were; may it be inside the walls of his bedroom after he just mercilessly pounded into you or while you were hanging out as his team’s manager. 

He stood naked before you as you sat at the edge of his bed, eyeing the masterpiece called Sakusa Kiyoomi. He was ripped in all aspects, and you blush as you remember what miracles his big member made you experience, how his fingers so skillfully made you moan his name, made you beg for more of him. 

“Like what you see?” He smugly asks as he stares down at you and you merely click your tongue in mock annoyance, “as if,” you deny, making him roll his eyes. It sums up your whole dynamic, you’d whisper the most loving things to each other as you satisfy each other’s needs, but after that, your conversations were a non-stop teasing and denying how you love fucking each other. 

“Come on, I’ll clean you up,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take and you look at him in surprise. He has never asked you to take a shower with him before. “What? Too painful to stand?” He asks, and you swear you hear slight irritation in his voice when you don’t take his hand. 

Without waiting for you to say anything, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other behind your back as he carries you to his bathroom, making you slap his chest. “At least warn me before hoisting me up,” you hiss at him and for the nth time that morning, he rolls his eyes at you. 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

They were on break, and Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu were sat on the floor as he stood a foot away from them and near the wall. He follows your figure as you make your way over and sit beside Atsumu, his eyes narrowing. He always noticed how the both of you were particularly close, closer than everyone else in the team- even your fans notice, they always had some silly conspiracy that you were going out with Atsumu. 

As mature as he was to simply ignore such rumors, he couldn’t help but get easily irked at every interaction you make with the flirtatious blonde. 

“Y/n why couldn’t you go out with me last night?” Atsumu asks you with a pout, “I wasn’t feeling well, I told you,” you lie and Sakusa raises a brow at you in an ‘are you kidding me?’ manner. Why do you even have plans with him at night? And what kind of excuse was that? Not feeling well? From what he recalls, he made you feel too well last night as he made you cum again and again, on his face, in his mouth and on his fat cock as he filled you up. 

“Y/n you didn’t tell me you’re on the dating phase with Tsumu already!” Bokuto whines, and Sakusa had to hold back a scoff. “We’re not,” you say with a laugh, “We’re not? Was it all nothing to you babe?” Atsumu asks you in fake hurt, everyone knew it was a joke but Kiyoomi just wanted to kick the back of his head in annoyance. 

“Of course we aren’t,” you pinch his cheek, “that was a one night thing, babe,” you tease and everyone, including you, froze at what you said; more importantly, Sakusa felt a wave of sudden irritation, jealousy and betrayal all at once as he processed what you said, and judging from how you reacted after you let that slip, your words were true. So you’ve already fucked Atsumu, he thought as he inhales a sharp breath, trying to calm himself down. 

“WHAT Y/N WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Hinata exclaims as you bury your face in your hands, scolding yourself for your stupidity while Atsumu just chuckles at you with a smug look on his face. “ATSUMU WHAT DOES SHE MEAN?” Bokuto asks and you groan because you know they won’t let this go; and catching the look on Sakusa’s eyes, you were actually afraid he was gonna end whatever you guys have. 

“We fucked,” Atsumu shrugs and you slap his shoulder, your eyes narrowing at him and he just smirks as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t say it was a one time thing y/n,” he teases. “We did it a lot of times, didn’t we? Until the sun came up,” he chuckles at how red you were. Frustrated at him, you march off with a huff, going inside the locker room. 

Sakusa took this as his chance to talk to you but he stops in his tracks when Atsumu follows you inside. He could practically feel his eye twitch as his patience for the blonde ran out. Not caring anymore if anyone finds out about your little arrangement, he also enters the locker room, and he swears that a nerve within him snaps at such an annoyingly filthy sight before him. 

“You’re not so smug now, are you babe?” you slur at Atsumu who was seated at the bench, his arms around your waist as you sit on his lap, teasing him with how close your lips were. You shift your eyes to Kiyoomi who had just entered the room, and you immediately pull away from Atsumu. 

Not that you were both exclusive to each other, you just somehow don’t want him to think you like someone else. “Wow, I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Sakusa says in a low voice as he looks coldly at you, half of his face covered with a mask. 

“Uh- n-no, you weren’t interrupting anything,” you nervously say and he merely narrows his eyes at you before leaving the locker room. You felt chills run down your spine, he was absolutely terrifying and cold, something you never expected him to be when it came to you. “What’s his deal?” the oblivious blonde asks you and you just groan. 

“Oomi,” you call as you follow him outside and the other players just look at the both of you. He ignores your attempts to get his attention as he walks away, he was just so pissed at you, the image of you in another’s arms, your lips that close, “Kiyoomi,” you say again as you finally caught his wrist. 

“Don’t touch me,” he glares, making you shiver. He was scary, even the others who watched you two didn’t want to be at the receiving end of such a hostile glare. “No, why are you mad? Don’t be mad,” you say, holding his hand with both of yours just incase he’ll want to pull away. 

“I said don’t touch me with those filthy hands,” he says in a calm voice as he pulls his hand away from you. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!” You shout at him in frustration. “If you’re mad about something, you better tell me, stop acting so-” you yelp when he hoists you up over his shoulder. 

“Oomi, what the fuck, put me down,” you slap his back but he ignores you. Without saying a word, he carries you inside the now filled locker room, and the boys look at you in surprise. Putting you down, you glare at his sudden actions and he simply gives you a side glance before he makes his way to his locker. 

Grabbing a towel and some change of clothes, he makes his way back in front of the team and beside you. “No one better enter the shower,” he glares at all of them with a serious face. "bUT wHyyyY?” Atsumu whines and Sakusa sharply looks at him with narrowed eyes. “I need a good fuck, that’s why,” he deadpans before he drags you to the showers, with you looking down in embarrassment at Sakusa’s words as the players fell silent, surprised and confused by his behavior.

He pushes you to the wall, placing his hand momentarily behind your back so it wouldn’t hurt you. The shower was running, with water trickling down his back as he hungrily kisses your lips, not caring if he made them swell as he sucks on your bottom lip, biting on it as he slightly pulls away before he meets your lips again, shoving in his tongue, hoping you’d know how much it hurt him to see you that close with someone else. 

A hand tightly grips you waist as the other cups your cheek, pulling you closer and not giving you a chance to catch your breath as he kisses you. His kisses slowly leave your lips, traveling towards your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses there before you tilt your head to grant him access to your neck, arousal built up inside you as you press your thighs together. 

“Oomii, ah,” you moan, the dark-haired boy ruthlessly sucking on your neck as if he wants to mark you as his. His hands trace the sides of your stomach before he moves them up your breasts, wanting to touch every bit of you because they are his to touch. 

Your moans were driving him insane and he wanted to shove his throbbing cock inside you, but you simply needed to be punished first. He gives you a short kiss on the lips before he pulls away from you, the icy look in his eyes were back. He pulls your arms which were gripping his shoulders away from him, “you think you deserve to touch me?” He asks, the dark look never leaving his eyes and with the way he was being, you can’t help but feel more turned on. He was mad about Atsumu, he was jealous, and his reaction made you somewhat pleased. 

“You’re jealous Oomi,” you tease him, pulling your arms away from his hold as you cup his cheeks with both your hands. “You’re a filthy little slut aren’t you?” He hums as he leans into your touch, closing his eyes, before he opens them to look at you again, now filled with lust. “Don’t you dare touch me unless I tell you to,” he commands as he sank down on his knees, one hand gripping both your wrists behind you tightly. 

You shiver as he kisses your lower stomach, slowly going south, looking up at you as you anticipated for his mouth to be where you needed it most, making him scoff at you. He hooks your left leg up his shoulder, exposing him to your wet and needy cunt, clenching around nothing. He kisses your inner thigh, sucking gently on your skin, placing his tongue anywhere but there. 

“Oomii, ah, please,” you beg, as you resist his hold on your wrists, wanting to touch his hair and guide him to where he should be. “Please what? He asks, pretending to be oblivious to your needs, continuing to harass your skin with his mouth, making you whine again. He blows lightly on your cunt, making you let out another moan. “Please what?” He repeats, looking up at you as you try to catch your breath while you look at him, down on his knees, your leg over his shoulder- he was too painfully close to your cunt, you wanted him to eat you out so badly. 

“Fuck me, please, make me cum,” you beg him and he raises a brow at you. “Wouldn’t you rather have Atsumu do it love?” He taunts and as you were about to complain about how he was being a dick, he rubs his thumb over your clit and he enjoyed how you tensed as you raise your head in pleasure. “Look at me y/n,” he commands and you do so. “Let me see when I ruin you without even having me inside,” the side of his lips slightly tugs upward in a smile that didn’t mean any good. 

He shoves a finger inside of you, his eyes never leaving your face as you moaned and begged for more before he inserts another finger in, thrusting in and out inside of you at a slow pace, shoving them knuckles-deep inside, slightly curling them against you tight walls, before he pulls them out, sucking on his fingers to taste your juice. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters before he finally brings his lips to your cunt, sucking gently on your folds before he slowly and teasingly slides his tongue from your entrance and up your clit, “Fuck, Oomi,” you moan, your arms still trying to resist his hold which only encouraged him to tighten his grip, forgetting the fact that he might bruise you. 

His tongue skillfully flicks at your clit, rubbing his wet muscle against it, the friction making the knot in your lower abdomen tighten as you can’t seem to stop yourself from moaning his name like it’s the only name you know. He knew you were close, so he doesn’t stop, instead he shoves his fingers knuckles-deep back inside of you, thrusting in and out, matching the pace of his tongue which circled your clit. 

“Oomi, nggh, baby, fuck, ah I- I’m about to,” and he simply hums in approval, his dick twitching at the pretty sounds you make. He takes away his fingers, replacing your inside with his tongue, his thumb rubbing against your clit instead. He always likes to taste you, you were simply so addicting and he will never get enough. “Oomi,” you gasp, letting out a shaky breath, the pleasure overwhelming you with his tongue eating you out like that, with one last cry of his name, you finally cum on him. 

Your knees were weak as you catch your breath as you panted heavily while Sakusa was busying himself with slurping your cum in his mouth. He gently places your leg back down from his shoulder before he stands on his full height, towering over you. Sakusa wraps an arm around you waist, the other still tightly holding your wrists together behind your back as he kisses you hungrily. 

He rests his forehead against yours and looks at you when you pull away, “let go of my arms I wanna touch you,” you say with a pout. He does as you say and you instantly wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his and shoving your tongue in his mouth as you run your fingers through his damp curls. 

He doesn’t break the kiss as he slightly lowers himself to place his arm below your ass, lifting you up before you wrap your legs around his waist. “Oomi you’re so hard for me,” you say in between pants as he sucks on you neck, his hard cock pressed at the bottom of your thigh. “I won’t be so gentle this time, y/n,” he groans as you take him in your hand, giving him a stroke. 

“but Oomi I’m still sore,” you say but you let out a loud wince when he readjusts you and enters his cock inside of you. With an arm wrapped around your waist and your back leaning on the wall, he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you, flooding your system with pain. Sakusa was never gentle, that’s why he gave you the best nights- sometimes mornings- of your life; but right now, he wasn’t being considerate at all. 

He pounds inside of you, occasional groans escaping his throat, getting lost at the feeling of your tight walls around him. Soon enough, you get used to the pain as you clench yourself around him, waves of pleasure dawning onto you with every thrust he makes, balls-deep inside of you. 

“So fucking tight,” he groans, the shower room filled with his silent and soft moans in contrast to your loud ones. You bite his shoulder as you remember that there are people outside who could hear you, but Sakusa didn’t take that too well. He wants them to hear you, he wants Atsumu to hear how good he’s fucking you. 

You let out another scream as he rolls his pelvis, roughly thrusting into you again as his fat cock presses against just the right spot, its veins against your wet walls. “Oomi, ah, please, they’re outside,” you pant, your chest aggressively rising and falling as he fucked you so good. “Do you even want me to stop?” He huskily whispers against your ear as you feel his sharp breaths. “Or do you really not want that filthy little runt to know how good I make you feel y/n, is that it?” He asks, his tone icy as he sped up his pace, leaving you a moaning mess as tears rolled down your cheeks- both of pain and pleasure. 

You couldn’t even form the right words, you were in such a bliss. “Does he fuck you better y/n? Do you scream louder for him?” He growls, his thrusts getting more aggressive as his need for more of you gets mixed up with the jealousy he felt. “N-no,” you moan, tugging at his hair as you feel your second orgasm near. “Only you Oomi, ah, only you, I swear fuck,” you hiss, locking your ankles together, “Oomi, I’m cumming, ah, Oomi, Oomi,” you repeatedly moan his name, “don’t cum without me,” he commands, wanting you to be at his mercy a little longer. He was really so pissed about having found out you’ve already fucked Atsumu, and to add to the flame, he even walks in on the both of you in that position. 

“You’re such a disloyal little slut you know that?” He says in your ear, his deadly voice only making you want to cum even more. “Why would you turn to someone else when I already fuck you this good,” he lets out another groan, as he feels himself about to cum into you as well. You choke out a sob, it was all too much, the painful pleasure, your sore muscles, it was too much to handle that your head was getting clouded. If he heard that sob sometime else when he wasn’t blinded by jealousy and anger, he would’ve been concerned. 

“It was before you Oomi, ah, before I- I even met you,” you answer him through your slight sobs and he felt somewhat guilty at that. “Cum for me, angel,” he sighs, pressing an apologetic kiss on your neck as he lets out a loud groan before he releases inside of you simultaneously as you cum. You both heavily pant, you’re back on your feet as you bury your face on his chest, leaning on him for support while he securely hugs you against him. 

The guilt of how rough he had been with you now catching up on him as he kisses the top of your head, he sighs as he strokes your hair, dragging you backwards with him so that the both of you could feel the cold water running from the shower. Pulling you away from him, he plants a small kiss on your lips, looking at your eyes for any sign of resentment for how he had been earlier. 

“I’m so sorry y/n, does it hurt?” He asks you, caressing your cheek. He had always been rough with you in the past but it was never without your approval, he would always listen to you if you were in pain and he’d be worried unlike a while ago. 

He frowns a bit when you don’t respond to him, so he continues on taking care of you. Washing your hair, cleaning your body, he gulps down in guilt as he sees the slight bruise that had formed in your wrist and how he has covered your neck with so many hickeys. He wouldn’t even blame you if you hated him. 

“Carry me Oomi,” you say with a pout, stretching out your arms to him. He was surprised, it was the first time you spoke to him again. You were both now dressed and dry, still inside the now empty locker room. He doesn’t say a word as he lifts you up in his arms bridal-style and you rest you head against his chest. 

“You could relax, I’m not mad at you,” you let out a breath of contentment, having been cradled in his arms. He still doesn’t say anything as he places you down the front seat of his car, crouching down and making sure you wouldn’t hit your head; you were clearly worn out, he had been fucking you last night, this morning and a while ago after all. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when you cup his cheek in your hand, his eyes meeting yours. “I love you Oomi, I really do,” you tell him and his eyes widen, his lips slightly part behind his mask as he waits for you to say something that would disappoint the hope he felt at your words. “And I think we should end whatever this is,” you sigh. “I’ll only love you more, you know? and I know you don’t-” 

“I love you too,” he blurts out, not wanting to hear your none-sense about how your love for him was one-sided, as he tugs down his mask and kisses your forehead. “I’ll take you home with me tonight, okay? I’ll take care of you, I’m sorry for being so rough,” he sighs. 

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt II: Dressed to kill

Introductory part

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

Category: angst.

Resume: Reader goes undercover to trick an unsub and help the team catch him but things go dramatically down hill. She regrets not listening to Reid’s advice, he helps her cope. Basically, this is what would happen if Linda Barnes was the leader of the team and you joined.

Trigger warnings: Linda Barnes slander, death, blood, injuries, trauma, weapons; a gun and a knife, medication. (please let me know if i forgot something <3)

You checked yourself in the bathroom mirror. You wore a little black dress with glimmers that suited your morphology better than anything you’ve worn before. You ran your hands on your silhouette anxious at the thought of being so close to a serial killer. The worst part is that you had to pretend you liked him so he could trap you. You felt slightly dehumanised like you ridiculously were the cheese on a mouse trap.

“Are you done, Y/n ? I’d like to see how the dress looks on you.” JJ asked knocking on the door. You unlocked the door seeing Tara and JJ stand right in front. JJ slightly gasped and Tara’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ in reaction to your sultry beauty.

“Well, Tara, if you were ever considering an alternative career stylist might be just for you.” said JJ complimenting Tara’s choice.

“Are you okay, Y/n ? You look horrified.” Tara asked concerned putting a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, I’m fine. Let’s go see the guys,” you answered stepping out between them your heels clicking on the floor. They glanced at each other shrugging exchanging a contentment frown.

Spencer was rambling without catching a breath to Luke until he slapped his shoulder when he noticed you were out and ready. Luke made his way towards you. “Well, will you look at that ? Looks like I’ve got competition on the team’s most attractive member.”

“Shut up.” you answered playfully to which he laughed putting his hands up in defeat.

Spencer stood behind but not as far as he was before when he was chatting with Morgan. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets looking at you and only as if everyone around him disappeared. He saw you before and the fact that you wore a tight dress did not change that. His stare was more of the analytical type. As you walked down the few steps you almost tripped catching yourself thanks to the rampart. You closed your eyes with a hand on your chest to calm your heart throbbing at your ribcage. Before anyone had the time to say anything you laughed it off; “Stupid heels, pretty but could kill you in a flash.”

 The team went along and laughed with you except Spencer who only furrowed his eyebrows. You did not trip because of your shoes but because you were dizzy. You hardly slept or took care of yourself before this; you were too anxious. Spencer giving you the cold shoulder did not help either. You did not understand that very well, you thought things were good between you two. It’s not like you could guess every single that ra through his head when your own was spinning already.

Once you were all in the elevator Spencer whispered in your ear “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to ?” You felt his warm breath on your neck, this closeness along with his voice made you feel fizzy inside.

“This is the only way.” you whispered back nodding your head now looking into his eyes.

You were going to meet the unsub at his favorite hunting spot; the dive bar. You were sitting aside Tara at the back of the SUV while Penelope was at your right violently typing at her laptop. At the front was Luke at the steering wheel. He pulled up by a secluded spot a few blocks away from the bar. Penelope was rarely on the field but you were glad she was. She was not only an anchor for you since the beginning, but your first true friend within the FBI. She liked to call you “kitten” or her “little protégée.” Plus she was taking care of your spying devices such as your ear piece and the mic she would hide in your dress including your GPS tracker.

Luke’s phone started ringing, he answered. After a very brief conversation he debriefed it to you three. “It was Barnes, they’re ready. Once you get out of the car, Y/n, the rest of the team is going to join us in this car to listen to your conversation enhance the unsub’s confession. Except JJ is going to be on the field undercover to update us on your every move.” You nodded to let him know you understand the instructions. “Then we’ll follow you to the location the unsub takes you to and arrest him. Tara and I will be out there in hiding in case anything happens. Got it?”

“Got it.” You said gesturing toward the door at your right. Penelope got out with you, before you left she said “Just know, we’ll be right here listening to everything but please be safe. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“Penelope, you’re not going to lose me.” You hugged her tight, “Plus you know if I died I’d haunt all of you.” You chuckled as you detached yourself squishing her hand before walking away for good.

Everything went according to plan, you gave the eye to the unsub, you perfectly fit his idea of the perfect victim. You acted naive and what if you were ? Because even though the whole time you had the worst gut feeling you still went thinking that was going to grant you validation from the leader of the team, Linda Barnes. The cold hearted one that can not trust a woman yet you trusted her, how pathetic.

The unsub took you to a dark alley but before Tara and Luke could get out of the SUV, Barnes told them to stand their ground.

“Why ?” Tara asked.

“Because I can’t risk the unsub seeing you and lose his confession or evidence.” he answered.

You started panicking, going from anxiety to a state of agony as the unsub pointed a knife at you.

“Well, can we go now ?!” asked Luke.

“We can’t take this risk just yet.”

“You know what ? I can’t risk Y/n being dead!” Spencer said rising from his seat but getting slammed back down by Linda.

“It’s okay, we’re not going to let anything happe-“ A gunshot interrupted this back and forth conversation. Everyone ran to you seeing you on the floor, blood slipping through the cracks of tar. Your shaky hands dropped the small gun right next to your boy bag purse. You tried to stand up but you couldn’t, you wished you could cry but you were too shocked, too numb to even let a whimper out. Spencer took off his windbreaker before running to you helping you up and slinging it over your shoulders with an arm around them. 

As he guided you towards the medics he bit back at Barnes, “Not going to let anything happen, right, Linda ?” He did not respond instead he looked down at the floor which would now let him forget the repercussion for his actions since it was tinted crimson. What the team was doing in your tear stained glory you were unaware nor did you care. You sat on the edge of the ambulance as Reid made sure you were taking care of properly like a polite version of a scientific Karen. He leaned in towards you, his head titled looking at your face.

“She has a scratch on her cheek, you might want to check for a concussion.” advised the genius doctor. He straightened his index finger a few inches from your face asking you to follow it with your eyes. As you did the exercise, he noticed your eyes fluttering to hold back tears. When the medic was done with cleaning and sanitizing your bloody hands and went back inside the ambulance to gather anything needed to heal your wounds and medication, Spencer sat down next to you in silence as you stared in the distance. His eyes landed on your face when saw you put your hand down drying a tear. You felt him looking at you.

“Suit yourself, you can say you told me so” you said breaking silence.

“You know, Y/n…” he started taking your hand in his, you looked back at him, “I’m really glad you’re alive.” This made you immediately sink into his side taking him by surprise, unable to hold back the tears. He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes feeling your pain and mentally sending you his energy in hope it might heal you.

The medic walking towards the two of you, when she looked up from the container in her hands full of medical products she stopped in her tracks; “Alright, I’ll come back, uh, in a minute.”

“You should hydrate yourself,” he advised handing you a water bottle as you put your arms in the sleeve of his jacket. As you took it, he rose from his feet a hand on your shoulder as he said; “I’m going to go check in with the others, you’re in good hands.” You nodded looking up at the medic smiling at you, you managed a weakened smile back.

When Reid was back with the team, he noticed they were arguing. Linda took Reid’s presence as his opportunity to shut the other members down; “Ah Reid, how is she ?”

“She’s injured but she’s holding up,” he answered fidgeting with his hands. The team was concerned about you but did not want to circle around you, make you talk to too many people at once since that would overwhelm you. Your injuries were quite superficial, you were scarred, you were bruised but you were going to be okay…physically.

Once back at the police department, you took off Reid’s windbreaker folding it on his desk with a post it note that said “Thanks :)” You went back to your desk changing into some more comfortable shoes than the heels you wore all night. You tried to channel your thought but as you were about to get lost in the turmoil, a low male voice made you breakout of your trans.

“Y/n, may I see you in the sheriff’s office ?” You nodded hurtfully knowing things were about to heat up for you, fearing you were in trouble.

You’ve been in Barnes’ office for quite a bit of time or at least longer than usual.

“How long ?” Luke asked.

“Oh at least 10 minutes.” Garcia answered, “and he isn’t the very chatty type.” The entire team was in front of the steps that led to offices, some leaned on desks, some fidgeted in place in impatience.

“He was going to kill me, Barnes!” You screamed.

“We would’ve protected you!”

“But you didn’t!” You felt your heart sink, “you didn’t.” There was a beat too long for your own taste. As you were about to leave Linda stopped you in your tracks; “Maybe you should take the rest of the week off, take some time for yourself.” You looked back at her in disgust, shocked she had the audacity to blame it all on you. “Sure, my pleasure.” you responded almost slamming the door behind you. However, you weren’t as pleased as your pride made you claim you were.

Once you were doing your walk of shame, Garcia hugged you and handed you her favorite cat squishy toy knowing you were in distress. They all encircled around your desk as you gathered your things.

“She is making me take the week off.” you informed them.

“Yeah, we heard so.” JJ said nodding sympathetically.

“We’re with you, Y/n.” Tara said.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.” Garcia told you moving her hands. “Snacks, blankets, a shoulder to cry on.”

“If I do I will, thank you Garcia but I think I’ll be fine.” When you were ready to leave, Spencer offered to drive you back which you decline. They all stood there watching you leave confused at how ‘fine’ you looked despite experiencing a near death experience.

[the-iceni-bitch]

An Early Christmas Gift

Pairing: Surprise (male protag) x Female Reader

Word Count: 5130

Warnings:  Explicit sexual content, explicit language, it’s porn y’all, 18+, SPOILERY CONTENT WARNINGS BELOW THE CUT! PLEASE BE MINDFUL!

A/N: Well ladies, school is slow, I’m off work, and I’m horny, so I have decided to bless you all with my second fic, also a submission in the 2020 Happy Hoeliday’s challenge hosted by the absolutely lovely @stargazingfangirl18​, @donutloverxo​, and @navybrat817​. I wanted to do something a little different with this one, where you don’t find out who your partner is until you get below the cut, like a fun little Christmas surprise. Due to the nature of this fic, there is some content that could be potentially upsetting that would also constitute potential spoilers, the the warnings for those are in the text itself. Please see further notes at the end of the fic and enjoy this little gift from me to you!

“Look honey, they’re perfect!” You exclaimed as you held up the tiny hat and booty set. “Gabi will love them!”

You hadn’t planned on doing any more Christmas shopping, but when your sister called as you were driving around the countryside surrounding Gruyeres to let you know she was pregnant, you knew you had to grab something from one of the adorable shops in the medieval Swiss town.

“Cadeau emballé s'il vous plaît.” You murmured to the shopkeeper as you handed over your payment, and within a few minutes you were walking out of the shop with a beautifully wrapped package, arm in arm with your partner. You were idly chatting about your plans for tomorrow (you’d have to be sure to get up early to ship your gift to Gabi) as you turned down an alleyway on the way back to your inn.

“Ah, fuck.” He murmured as you were halfway down the alley, and suddenly he had you pressed up against the wall with his mouth on yours. You dropped the bag containing your gift in surprise.

He pressed one palm against the small of your back to hold you flush against him while the other held his balance against the stone wall. One of his thighs moved in between your legs and started to edge your wool pencil skirt slowly upward. You got over the surprise quickly and brought your hands up to latch onto his hair as his tongue ran along your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

~~~~~~~~WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE~~~~~~~~~~

You almost missed the stranger that came up behind him and pressed a gun to his head.

“Que faites-vous?” the man hissed at you. You noticed four more men, two at each end of the alley, starting to move closer and started to sob.

“Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?” You gasped through a steady stream of tears. Your partner’s hands were now raised in supplication as his jaw clenched in a look of frustration.

“Pourquoi me suivez-vous, eh?” The man had now turned his attention to you, since you were the only one saying anything.

“We, we weren’t…” You had now reverted to your native English as you started to sink down the wall, a blubbering mess.

The man stepped forward and trained his gun on you, shifting his balance as he moved.

You ducked under your partner’s arm as you loosened one of the knives sewn into your coat sleeve, caught the wrist of the hand holding the gun, and slashed down his brachial artery.

“Merde!” he shouted, stumbling backwards as blood rushed down his arm. You could hear the other men cursing under their breath as they started to rush you.

You flipped the blade you were holding into your palm, then flung it into the throat of the nearest assailant before shrugging out of your coat. August was already out of his and was pulling out the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

“They’re too close for that.” You told him as the last three closed in on you. Then you saw 2 more rushing into the alley and let out a sigh. “Damn.”

The newcomers started firing as you dove into a nook in the wall. August had his sights trained on them as he started to take his shots. The other three were on you in seconds.

You managed to dodge the first few punches as you drew two new knives from inside your boot. You caught a glancing blow to your ribs before kicking the culprit twice, once to the diaphragm, once to the face. You felt arms wrap around you from behind as you were lifted off the ground by the largest lackey. You started gasping as he began to squeeze the air out of your lungs.

You whipped your head back fast and felt a crunch as you connected with his nose. He dropped you to the ground with a hiss and you plunged a knife back and connected with flesh, earning yourself a momentary reprieve. You used the other knife to cut a slit up the thigh of your skirt to allow you to move more.

The gunfire had stopped at this point and you managed to catch a glimpse of August grappling with one of the gunmen before one of your assailants bowled into you. As he tried to flip you onto your back, you managed to take over the momentum and wrap your knee around his neck until you heard a snap.

You felt a sharp pain in your side as you straightened back up and were fairly sure you now had a broken rib. You turned to face your final attacker when you heard a choked off scream and a body flew into your field of vision, crashing into the man you were facing.

You turned to your left to see August pumping his fists as he strode after the man he had just thrown across the alleyway like a ragdoll. You squared up shoulder to shoulder as your two opponents did the same.

The final fight started with a crash. The two of you had vastly different fighting styles. You were all strategy, dodging most blows, planning your strikes for maximum damage. August was all brute force; he simply absorbed any body shots and knew that the size and force of his fists would cause damage no matter where they landed. The fight finally ended with your opponent with a knife through his eye, while August’s opponent’s head was almost ripped off with a broken neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~END OF CONTENT WARNING~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Motherfucker,” you exclaimed, “they shot the baby gift!”

August was already dialing a sanitation team as you went over to inspect the damage. You may have been able to salvage it if someone hadn’t managed to bleed into the bullet hole in the packaging, soaking the beanie and booties.

Leaving the ruined present behind, you went to search the corpses for any useful information. You found one potentially salvageable cell phone (it was only covered in blood, not crushed) and nothing else.

“Shit”

“Sloane wants to talk to you,” August said, handing you his cell.

“Y/L/N, you wanna tell me what exactly the situation is there?”

“Did Walker not give you a run down?”

“His run downs tend to be minimal at best, this one was ‘lots of dead bodies in an alley, send a team.’”

You winced as you touched your ribs to assess the damage. “Yeah, that sounds like him. They made us and boxed us in. I have one cell I may be able to get something out of. Does rice work for absorbing blood or just water?”

You heard a snort over the line. “Take it back to your safe house and I’ll have an analyst pick it up tomorrow. Right now, you need to get out of there, we’re showing law enforcement heading to your location.”

“Alright. Hey, can you have that analyst pick up a replacement baby gift for me?” You asked as you held up a blood-soaked booty.

“Sure, they love when I give them errands.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“We’re on our way back. I’m trashing our phones just in case.” You said as you walked through the alley, making sure to collect all the knives you had used and tucking them back into their designated sheathes.

“Good plan. The analyst will bring you replacements in the morning. Stay in your room at the inn and don’t leave under any circumstances.”

“You got it boss.” You placed the phone on a slightly raised cobblestone at an angle and brought your boot down on it hard, hearing it crack.

You did the same with the phone in your purse as August walked back over to you, carrying both of your coats.

“Hey Walker, what the fuck was that kiss?”

He winced at you. “I thought it would throw them off.”

“Uh-huh” you mumbled as you shrugged your coat back on. That may have explained why he kissed you, but definitely not the way he kissed you. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, one of them grazed me”

“Alright, I’ll stitch you up when we get back to the hotel. Put your coat over it for now”

He groaned when he stretched his arm through the sleeve of his coat, feeling the burning of the wound along his ribs now that his adrenaline was going down.

You hobbled back into your room at the inn after you managed to calm down the tiny innkeeper. You weren’t sure how you convinced her you had both just tripped as you were walking down a hill, but she seemed to buy it. She insisted on sending up a bundle of hot towels with you and a bucket of ice, which you thanked her for.

After locking the door behind you, you pulled out the first aid kit from under your bed and turned to your patient.

“I hope you’re not too attached to that sweater.”

“What?” August was slowly rolling his coat off his shoulders. He had rolled the sweater up around his elbows during the fight, exposing his well-muscled forearms.

“Even if I could get the blood out of it, I’m going to need to cut it off you.” You told him over your shoulder as you scrubbed your hands. “I don’t want to drag it over the wound and cause any more damage.”

“Alright.”

You drew the scissors out of the kit and held the sweater away from his torso as you began cutting up towards his neckline. He winced when the edge of your hand barely skimmed the wound.

“This sweater is ridiculously tight Walker; I’m doing my best.”

“You’re fine just get it over with.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t even started cleaning it and you’re already complaining. Do you want me to knock you out for a couple of stitches?”

“Do you have a sedative in that kit?”

“The kit is the sedative. One good ram against your skull should have you down for the count.”

He started laughing in spite of himself before groaning at the pain.

“If you don’t hold still, I really will knock you out.” You scolded him, pouring an iodine solution over the wound.

“Fuck, Y/L/N! Ah, that stings.”

“Here, bite down on this.” You folded up a towel and handed it to him. He shoved it in his mouth and clamped down as you ran a flame over the needle you would be using. He let out a grunt around it when you first inserted the needle but managed to settle in as you got to work.

Less than a minute later, you finished your beautiful blanket stitch and were about to start wrapping his torso when he stayed your hand.

“Leave it.”

“Suit yourself.” You said, standing up. You winced suddenly as you had forgotten about your own injury and it was now screaming at you. “Shit.” You hissed. “Help me out of my coat?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Pretty sure I have at least one broken rib.”

He stood up and helped you shrug out of your heavy coat. “Jesus, how many knives are in here?”

“Six?” you said as you did a mental tally. “No, seven. Two in each sleeve, two in the waist, one in between the shoulders.” You went to the bathroom mirror and untucked your blouse from your skirt, pulling up the edge to get a good look at your bruised torso.

“You really need to carry seven knives with you?”

“No. Those are just the ones sewn into the coat.” You put your shirt back down. “Good news, pretty sure I just have a bruised diaphragm. Hurts like a bitch but not a whole lot you can do about it.”

You turned around to head back to the bedroom when you bumped into August’s bare chest.

“Where do you keep the other knives?”

He was looking at you with what you had originally assumed were adrenaline blown eyes, but now recognized as the dilated pupils of lust. His blood must have still been up from the fight.

With your boots still on you were almost as tall as him, but he was a solid wall of muscle in front of you and while you could move him if you needed to, that wouldn’t be good for either of your injuries.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, looking him dead in the eye as you shifted your stance, ready to fight if you had to, but you thought you would have a better chance if you ran.

He let out a sigh and stepped back on his heels, allowing you to relax a bit.

“I think I misread this situation.”

“How exactly?”

“Listen,” he said, “there’s nothing like a good fuck after a fight and we’ve been partnered for almost six months now. I know we’re normally able to take care of ourselves but since we’re stuck in this room together with just the one bed, it would probably be less awkward if we just…”

“’You know we’re normally able to take care of ourselves?’ Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You’re not very quiet.” He said bluntly, which you honestly couldn’t deny so you just started laughing.

“No, that’s definitely true” You said. Standing there, looking at him leaning up against the wall with his naked torso that looked like it had been chiseled by Da Vinci after a particularly exquisite wet dream, you couldn’t even deny that often, the thought of him between your legs was enough to push over the edge in your post-fight sessions.

“Alright then let’s set some ground rules. Hard limits for me are going to be anything related to urine or feces. No real soft limits but if you want to do breath play you better know what you’re doing. My safe word is ‘balsam’. What about you?”

He was looking at you with his face in a state of total shock. “Umm, what?”

“What are your limits Walker? What won’t you do? What are you willing to do but aren’t crazy about?”

“No, no, I know what limits are. Same as yours, I guess my safe word can be ‘spruce’?” he almost made the second sentence a question. “You’re fine with this?”

“Should I not be fine with this? We’re both professionals, this is strictly so we’re able to sleep after…”

You didn’t have time to finish your thought as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around him. He pulled your head down to his and parted your lips with his tongue. You greeted it with yours as he lay you down on the bed and ripped your skirt the rest of the way off from the slit you made in it earlier, revealing a custom garter belt that held four more knives on each thigh. At the sight of that he laughed.

“Is that all of them?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes. “Why don’t you get the rest of this off and find out?” You said, holding up one booted calf and rubbing it against his shoulder.

He growled at you as he ripped the boot off and ran his teeth against the arch of your foot, causing a quiver to run up your leg and ripple through your core. He removed the other boot next and pulled you down until you were straddling him, then he tore through the buttons on your blouse and yanked you up to roll it down your shoulders. Then he took a step back to take a good look at you.

“Sevent… seventeen knives, really?” He said, looking you over.

Aside from the eight knives around your thighs, you had two around each of your calves, four tucked into the waist portion of your special garter belt, and one between your breasts.

“Twenty-four total, along with the coat.” You grinned up at him. “This custom set cost me a pretty penny, so no tearing it off me like an animal.” You said, glancing over at your ruined skirt and blouse.

“I think I’ll let you remove all of that, for my own safety.”

You threw your head back and laughed, then stood up and started to unstrap yourself.

You started with your left leg, removing the small sheath belt on your calf, and placing it on your trunk, then removing the four knives from the thigh before unbuckling it. Then you moved onto your right leg, fully unstrapping everything there before undoing your garter belt completely at the waist. Finally, you undid your very special bra and placed that on top of the impressive pile, turning back to Walker in only your panties and stockings.

He was looking at you with a lust blown gaze and his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. You could see the outline of a very impressive hard on through his tight slacks and felt yourself clench around nothing as a rush of arousal soaked your panties.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you strode over, pulling him down for a quick kiss before sinking to your knees. “Low bar there bud, we’ll see if we can improve on that before the night’s out.” You said as you started to undo his belt.

“Um, starting already?”

You gave the outline of his cock a soft nip through his slacks and his hips twitch involuntarily as he took in a sharp intake of breath.

“I mean, I can draw this out if you really want, but I’m pretty sure we’re past the foreplay stage at this point.” You say, pulling down his slacks and boxer briefs to free his extremely impressive cock. It almost slaps you in the face as it bounces back up towards his abdomen. You make eye contact with him as you slowly drag your tongue along the base from root to tip.

“Shit, yeah, you’re right.” He lets out in a quick breath, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut.

You give him a wicked grin as you continue staring up through your lashes. Your tongue flicks around the tip a few times, lapping up the trickle of pre-cum that is forming before you slowly take the head of his cock in your mouth, humming around it as you do.

“Jesus, fuck.” He cries as his knees buckle and he lands on the bed with a huff. You slide forward on your knees to follow him and dip your hand between your legs to coat it in your own arousal, before gripping his length and sucking on first one velvety sack, then the other.

His breathing is becoming irregular as he stares at you through hooded eyes. You take his cock in your mouth again and he wraps your hair around his fist as you start to slowly move your head up and down, taking him in a little deeper each time. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat and start to breathe through your nose as you swallow around his cock.

“Shit,” he exclaims as he falls back and places a second hand on the back of your head as he starts to fuck his hips up into your mouth. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

His hips stutter as he tries to pull out, but you get your own hands under his hips to hold him in place. He lets out a low groan and you feel his release running hot snakes down your throat. You continue swallowing around his softening dick until your sure he has nothing left to give you, then you release him with a pop and wipe the drool from your chin.

You slowly kiss and lick your way up his torso, dipping your tongue into the ripples between his muscles and making low, humming noises as you do. His ragged breathing has started to even out as you reach his neck, running your teeth along his pulse point and nipping at his jaw before you place your mouth over his and flick your tongue along his bottom lip.

“Good for you, baby?” You ask against his lips, feeling the scratch of his stubble and moustache against your soft skin as you gently pull on his lips with your teeth.

You feel him grin against your mouth as answer before his tongue meets yours.

“Fucking great, your turn now.”

You only have a second to prepare as he wraps his hands around the outside of your thighs and yanks you up the bed with a yelp until your straddling his face. He buries his face against your silk covered mound and gives a sharp inhale before he starts kissing and softly biting at the skin of your inner thighs, his facial hair scratching at the sensitive skin.

“Take these things off.” He says, pulling at your panties with his teeth before letting them snap back into place as you let out a strangled gasp.

You somehow manage to remove them from the awkward position you’re in and as soon as they’re gone, August drags his tongue along your slit at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your brain short circuits and you have to brace both your hands against the headboard so you don’t collapse onto his face. He moves a hand up to palm your breast, working your pebbled nipple in between his fingers as his tongue circles your clit.

“God, honey, you taste amazing.” He murmured against you before shoving his tongue inside your cunt and making you scream. “You gonna cum all over my…”

You cut him off by grinding your pussy into his face. “Stop talking.” You hiss at him. You can feel your orgasm building and want relief as soon as possible.

You feel his smile against you as he starts fucking you with his mouth in earnest, wrapping his arms around your thighs before he starts sucking on your clit.

The sight of those forearms around your legs combined with the soft hums and moans he’s making against your skin send you teetering over the edge. You feel yourself clench around his tongue and let out a cry, your body tightening and releasing as wave after wave of pleasure wrack you.

When you had finally finished, August slowly rolled you over and softly kissed down your leg as he lowered you onto the pillows. You groaned and arched your back when he stopped, hating the loss of sensation. Your heart was still beating like crazy as you propped yourself up on your elbows to gaze at him.

His hair was damp with sweat as it tumbled into his eyes in loose curls. He raked his fingers back through it to push it out of his face, and you saw that his moustache and stubble were soaked with your slick as he licked his lips and stared at you. You let out a low moan and bit your lip as you felt desire pool at your core once more. You pulled his face down to yours and started cleaning the evidence of your orgasm from his facial hair with your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt him harden against you as he began rocking his hips, sliding his cock against your swollen clit and you let out a small whine.

“Ready again so soon sweetheart?” He murmured into your ear, nuzzling himself in the small hollow behind the hinge of your jaw. He slips one hand underneath you and presses you into him further, coating his cock in your arousal.

“Fuck.” You hiss. “Jesus, get inside me now.”

“Condom?”

“I’m on the pill.”

He smiles against your neck as his hips still and he lines himself up at your entrance. You let out a strangled cry as he slams into you, bottoming out immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so tight honey.” He growls into your neck as he stops moving completely.

After a few beats of stillness, you speak up.

“August, I kind of need you to move.”

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You feel his face screwed up against your neck as he holds you there. He’s trying not to come like a teenager two pumps into their first warm cunt. He pulls out of you halfway before slowly pushing back in, and your hands scramble on his back, begging him to pick up the pace as you flutter around him. He finally starts fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you take in a sharp breath.

As he starts to pick up the pace, he takes your left leg from around his waist and moves it so your ankle is propped on his shoulder. He places small bites along your ankle as he presses his thumb into the arch of your foot, causing you to clench around him and gasp, screwing your eyes closed as he edges you closer and closer. You feel his grin against your calf as his hand moves to your upper back and he pulls you up to mouth at your breast, rolling your hardened nipple between his tongue and teeth.

“August!” you let out a scream at the new position. The change in angles has him hitting your sweet spot over and over, and now he is slamming into you fast. “I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s right baby, scream for me.” He pulls you up flush against him and you wrap your arms around his neck so he can stabilize himself against the wall. The hand he isn’t using for balance slides in between you, using two fingers to work your clit as he fucks you harder and harder while kissing you deeply. The bed frame sounds like it’s about to fall apart as he fucks you into the headboard.

You cry into his mouth as the tension in your core snaps and you fly apart around him. Your cunt clenches and flutters as you feel yourself turn to jelly, sinking back onto the pillows as he continues to fuck into you at a punishing speed, a hand on each of your hips as he pulls you onto him over and over.

You feel yourself building again quickly as his cock starts to twitch inside you and your velvety walls constrict around him again. You don’t know if you can handle another orgasm at this point.

He looks down at you as his pace becomes irregular and gives you a wicked grin. “C’mon baby, give me one more.”

You let out a low moan as he presses a thumb to your overworked clit and you spasm up off the bed as your pleasure is released. You feel all the muscles in your core tremble from the strain, and your previously forgotten rib injury makes itself known.

August isn’t far behind you and you feel his hips stutter as his release coats your walls and he hisses your name through clenched teeth before collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your neck. You feel him starting to soften as he slides out of you and he rolls to the side breathing heavily. You lay next to each other for a few moments, waiting for your heart rates to slow down and breathing to regulate before you even try to move or talk. It’s been a while since either of you have been so thoroughly fucked, and you didn’t realize how much you needed it until this moment. You finally come down from your post-fuck high, and groan as you sit up and try to head to the bathroom, knees almost giving out once you stand up. Walker starts laughing behind you and you turn to throw a pillow at his head, which he catches in mid-air. Once your sea legs are back, you make your way to the bathroom for a post-fuck piss. You hear a muttered “Shit” from the bedroom, and the rattle of jostled furniture, and start cackling as you start to run the shower.

“God a shower will be great.” Walker says as he stumbles into view, still pretty obviously fuck-drunk.

“It’s a whore’s bath for you. I can’t believe your stitches stayed in place during all of that, there’s no way I’m letting you ruin them now.”

“You’re so fucking bossy, I oughta…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought as there is a sudden pounding on the door. You both snap into alert stances as you toss a robe at him and wrap one around yourself quickly. He grabs his gun and takes up a stance behind the door, then gives you a nod once he’s ready, jaw clenched in preparation. You swing the door open to find Mdm. Eberle, the 80-year-old innkeeper, standing there with her even more ancient husband, holding what you can only assume was a previously decorative rifle from the 1700s that they had hauled down from above the fireplace.

“Madame Trellier,” she whimpers at you. “The room below you heard screaming and horrible noises and we… oh.” She trails off once she gets a good look at you.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before you answered the door, and there was really no other way to describe your appearance than well fucked. Your hair was bunched up and mussed, your mascara was running, and there were love bites running down your neck and on to your chest. Not that the state of the room was any better. Your discarded clothes were still in plain view, and you now noticed a small crack running up the wall behind the headboard that definitely wasn’t there before.

Mssr. Eberle’s look abruptly change from a scowl to childish glee as he gave you a toothless grin while Mdm. Eberle covered her mouth with one hand as a flush crept up to her face.

You started to apologize profusely when Walker chose this moment to stride out from behind the door with a cocky grin on his face, wrap his hand around your waist, and give you a kiss on the neck before heading into the bathroom.

Poor Mdm. Eberle started spluttering while her husband started cackling, assuring you that there was no need to apologize as she started scurrying away. Mssr. Eberle gave you a lecherous wink before following her, and you closed the door behind them with a sigh.

“Stay out of that shower!” You scolded Walker as you headed into the bathroom, ready to get back to the States already so you could debrief and maybe actually be home for the holidays. You didn’t even notice the cellphone you had collected from your attackers was now on the bedside table, laying on top of an electromagnet.

   END

More A/N: Y’all, I had way too much fun with this one. I actually enjoyed writing the non-smut portion as much as the sweet, smutty goodness. I also think I maybe have a bad boy kink? Who knows, we’ll explore further.

Happy Hoelidays!

[ushiwakaout]

parings: Ushijima x reader , Iwaizumi x reader and Sakusa x reader 

warnings: NSFW (under the black lines) daddy kink w hajime, Timeskip Haikyuu. language? jealousy? fannon sakusa? anal w sakusa. bad grammar :)

a/n: as a compressed woman myself, i don’t think there is enough compressed content out there, or maybe i haven’t found any. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

this man LOVES you, you cannot put it into words

let’s start with being in public 

he isn’t touchy feely with you in public, never. he think it looks bad and does’t wanna make you uncomfy

does hold your hand... kind of. You def. have smaller hands than he does so you grab his pinky most of the time, he thinks its really damn cute.

leaned down to kiss your forehead.

if you’re ever out to go eat at like a stand or sum, he sits down and he’s basically looking at you or at your chest depending on the chair.

ONLY PDA THING HE WILL DO ONCE IN A WHILE IS LEAN HIS HEAD ON YOUR CHEST AND PUT HIS HANDS ON YOUR BUTT IF HES FEELING ADVENTUROUS.

i know id love this- HIM LOOKING UP AT YOU AND ASKING FOR PERMISSION TO LIKE CARESS YOUR LOVE HANDLES OR HIPS BC UR SO THICC AND HE FUCKING LOVES EVERY SINGLE INCH *sigh* im touch starved

When it comes to being at home, he’s legit the most handsiest airhead in the freaking world

He could be laying on the couch, he makes you sit on his lap and your like “mmm, no” but he reminds you that he’s legit full nelsoned your ass while standing in front of a mirror and you like “..... y-you don’t need to remind me!!!” so you sit on his lap

y’all start talking and he’s like really distracted with you chest, doesn’t matter the size he just want his hand on your boobs.

very touchy man in private, this man was touch starved until you came in and now he can get enough.

“Toshi? What are you doing?”

Hes caressing your boobies and he just smiles like the big dumb idiot he is and whispers something about being in love with your chest and he sits up a lil and just shoves his face in ur tits, like not even in a sexual way.

let’s also add a lil nsfw in this fluff

when you guys first did the deed you hesitated in taking of your clothes, you did not want him to see you naked, not yet at least. he didn’t mind at, but he made you wear his shirt.

you kissed him and changed in the bathroom and when you came out wearing his shirt like a dress, he got embarrassingly hard 

that day he realized that his favorite position w you (only when you wear his shirts) is doggy style bc he’d ruin all his shirts and ball up the hem of it to pull you so deep into his cock and holy shit he’s never felt so much euphoria

he’s got you screaming his name, drooling over the bed sheets, covering his cock with your orgasm. god he loves the sight of your body giving out due to multiple orgasms.

also loves eating you out, wow

he’s told you that he’d be happy if he suffocated in-between your thighs

you had to let out a giggle but like it turned into a moan

cocky bastard

loves leaving marks on you, there’s so much skin to cover, and he wants to do it all.

Iwaizumi Hajime

I 100% believe that this boys mother is compressed as well and you cannot tell me otherwise

loves public pda especially at night

has to be touching you in some way shape or form

either holds your hand, your waist or your ass, just depends how you’re feeling and how he’s feeling

kisses your hand or the crown on your head

say if your ever standing in line and your in front of him, he will lean his head down and put his chin on top of your head

slaps your ass when he think no one is looking BUT SOMEONE IS ALWAYS LOOKING and he just makes you really embarrassed

i think he’s definitely an ass guy so he pinches your butt a lot

when he went to Irvine in Cali, he just had to take you with him, he couldn’t just leave his baby all alone without him.

you guys had a free day so y’all went to laguna beach, lucky it wasn’t as packed as it usually was or so you heard

at this point iwaizumi has given you enough confidence to wear a two piece, (obviously high waisted)  

half the time at the beach you felt like he wanted to bark at the guys who stared at your ass while you sun bathed.

he’d bother you a lot for kisses and low key make out sessions

and let me tell you when he pulled away from the kiss and saw how plum and fucking red your lips where, he was hard, he’s never wanted you to wrap you mouth around his cock so bad

he calmed down for a bit, went into the water and cooled down, while you still laid on you belly enjoying the sun

at some point he was the one sunbathing and you where in the water

and now he believes that he picked the wrong pair of short to wear bc he got hard while watching you walk back to your spot, water just dripping down every curve and in every crook of your body

“We’re going back to the hotel now.”

you don’t complain, it’s not like you didn’t fucking notice how hard his cock was, it made your mouth drool

god getting to the hotel, he wasted no time at all what so ever.

kissed you all around, you skin tasted salty and fresh on his tongue

you broke the kiss to tell him that you guys should probably get into the shower or sand will be everywhere. 

SHOWER SEX

Hajime has a love/hate relationship with shower sex but today he didn’t care, he just pounded into your pussy like it was the last time he’d ever feel you

He loves pulling your body, you back close this his chest while he’s ramming into you, whispering the naughtiest things in your ears.

it either “you’re so tight, fuck, you’re twitching. Does it feel that good, hm? You’re pussy wrapped around my cock, taking me in so well. You love this don’t you, filthy little thing you are.”

he also likes teasing you, god he loves just holding your hips just to fuck you so slowly, edging you. “Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock? You’re gonna be daddy’s good girl and cum all over my cock, right?” 

he’s such an asshole, i need to stop writing bc i legit wont stop. i love hajime so much omfg

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Oh boy Sakusa is def hard to write about, but i love him so ill do it

I think is he dated a compressed reader, he’d def tease them about their height, never their weight

Although he’s always been iffy about touching, there’s just something about you

he always has to be touching you somehow

his teammates at MSBY are really surprised to figure out that he has an S/O and that he lives and breathes the same air as their Oomi

They are really surprised when you come one day after practice and he doesn’t immediately go to the showers, go goes straight to kiss you just to say a quick hello and then he rushes into the shower. 

Atsumu’s like, “how you do dat?” you shrug it off bc you have no idea either bc ever since you’ve started dating he gets a lot more comfortable with you

his teammates love you by the way especially bokuto and hinata (ima say u used to be karasunos co manager w yachi)

thicc boys and girls hang together

anytime bokuto tries hugging you, you’re ready to accept him with open arms but Oomi is just like NO. BIG NO

Pouty boy sakusa doesn’t want bo accidentally feeling you up bc thats his job

Obviously atsumu is the comic meme where it’s like “are you sakusa’s new girlfriend! Dude! He told me you were hot but i didn’t believe him, bc like have you seen him? out of his league. Like, btw, fuck him, dude. Lets elope- I AIN’T DOIN NOTHIN!”  atsumu thinks you’re hot always flirts w/ you bc he low key has a thing for thicc girls (probably gonna write something about that bc i know for a fact people believe that he’d call a big girl “pig” but i think he’d be the type of asshole to hide the fact that he’s dating you bc he’s called people pigs and what not but during his time at MSBY bokuto def. rubbed of on him.

atsumu high key doesn’t remember you but YOU DEF REMEMBER HIM

you bumped into him while refilling waters and he’s like “watch it pig”

sakusa heard what you said and atsumus like “oh shit....”

you can’t tell me sakusa did not grad his usual cute scarf and try to suffocate him with it bc he insulted his s/o before he was their s/o

“we barely knew each other then stop trying to kill him Oomi!”

high key sakusa saw you that day and was like wow.

you can out of the bathroom with ur cute hand towel and hand sanitizer, you were low key sick but didn’t wanna put anyone at risk so u had a mask on too

you caught his looking and you just waved, you don’t really remember that day but he def does bc he fell i love with u then and there

his cousin had to drag him away from following you down the hall and ask what was you cleaning regimen bc he knew id freak u out a lil but it really wouldn’t have.

sukusa is only public handsy if he’s tipsy or when he’s at home w you and the three boys (atsumu, bokuto and hinata) he says he hates them but he doesn’t and you know that bc he wouldn’t let them into their house if he did

they WILL NOT LEAVE IF THE MISS THE TRAIN OR ARE TOO DRUNK TO WALK YOU FORCE OOMI TO LET THEM SLEEP OVER

You’re like covering them with blankets any everything and lightly waking them up to put a pillow under their head, hinata low key starts crying bc he says you’re so sweet and that oomi should be feel so lucky that he’s got someone like you

okay hinata almost makes you cry but u like just boop his nose and giggle it off 

while you’re covering up atsumu, he starts flirting with you and u just laugh but tell me why sakusa will come behind you and just wrap his arms around you, puts his chin on your shoulder and glares at him

basically saying “leave my woman alone.” 

atsumu is high key (even if sakusa doesnt realize but you do) enticing sakusa so you can get a good fuck tonight bc he feels a lil bad for intruding.

TELL ME WHY IT WORKS THO

Sakusa will like drag you to bed, tease you. tie your hand behind your back so you can’t touch him and all you can do is watch him strip for you

god his body is sculpted by Himeros himself because his body is so damn sexy 

after hes down to his boxers he covers your eyes with a cloth and he gives you a good face fucking,

you cannot tell me that he doesn’t get so fucking hard after taking off the cloth and seeing how red a watery your eyes are

also this motherfucker is so dirty in bed i’m sorry (cannon him will not touch u tho like mmm sakusa cannon is a pillow prince, its still hot, def will write about it soon)

he would lick up you salty tears, and kiss your plump lips after he made you swallow his cum

he fucks you in front of the mirror that day but not on the bed

he makes you lean into your vanity so you can see up close how much of a drooling and crying mess me make you

you’re gipping onto the vanity and you’re on your fucking tippy toes, you’re twitching and so close to breaking the fucking vanity bc this isn’t your first orgasm, its probably the third or fourth

he’s covering your mouth with one hand and the other on your hip for grip as he pounds you

he might stick a finger or two in your mouth 

OH GOD I JUST THOUGHT- I JUST THOUGHT OF HIM LIKE spreading your ass too see how much you’ve cummed on his cock and he get’s the sudden urge to put this thumb in you ass, so he just runs his thumb around and it surprises you but he sees how you just tightened around his cock

he gives you a cocky look and just leans into your ear AND WHISPERS SO MANY DIRTY FUCKING THINGS WHILE NIBBLING AND LICKING YOUR EAR

“You’re such a dirty whore baby, I haven’t even put it in and you just tightened around me so good. I think- god you feel so tight... I think you might just cum from slipping my thumb into that cute ass of yours”

FILTHY , SAKUSA IS A FILTHY WHORE AND ITS FUCKING HOT

a/n: i wrote too much for sakusa when i was like wtf am i gonna write AND I ENDED UP WRITING THE MOST FOR HIM JFSIBFBSDFSKFHS IM NOT SURPRISED do i smell favoritism? yes. i’m not ashamed. 

[thebisexualdogdad]

Kinktober day 2: B is for Body paint with Danny Mahealani

Co written with @inhumanshadows

Going to the club was not on the itinerary for your friday night but somehow Allison and Isaac convinced you to join them for neon night.

"Why did I let you guys talk me into this?" You ask, pulling your coat closer to your body as you all wait in line.

"Cause it's Neon Night" Alison states, "which means hoy guys in body paint."

"But you and Isaac are just going to ditch me to make out," you groan. 

"Well we'll just have to find you a guy of your own to make out with," she says. 

"What? You don't want to share Isaac with me?" You tease. 

"Not going to happen," she laughs.

After waiting for 20 minutes in the cold you guys finally make it inside, someone at the door handing you a few bottles of paint. 

"Y/N?" A voice asks behind you. 

You turn around to see it's Danny already half naked and covered in paint. 

"Danny hey," you say, trying not to stare at his literally glowing abs.

"Didn't expect you to be here" Danny says, moving off to the side with you. "want some help with the paint?" He asks, gesturing to the bottles in your hand.

You look back and forth from Danny and the paints. "sure..."

"Where's Y/N?" Isaac asks Allison. 

"He's with Danny," she tells him. 

"Danny's here? We should go say hi," Isaac says. 

"No we shouldn't, Y/N has been crushing on Danny all year and this might be his chance to make a move," she replies taking her shirt off, "now are you going to paint me or not?"

Isaac smiles wide. "I'd be happy to."

You let Danny lift your shirt off. "Do you want anything specific?" He asks.

"Can you do a skeleton?"

"I'm not much of an artist but I'll do my best," he smiles. 

You breathe in as Danny's finger first makes contact with your skin, rubbing a line across your sternum.

"You okay?" Danny asks.

"Yeah... the paint's just a little cold." You say, it's not a total lie cause the paint is cold.

Danny's fingers drag all over your torso as he connects line after line. After what feels like forever, Danny stands, "tell me what you think."

"Looks great," you say shakily. 

"You'd look great in anything," he tells you. 

You're trying not to blush and you see Allison and Isaac on the dance floor. 

"Looks like my friends ditched me already so do you... Maybe you want to dance with me?" You ask nervously.

"I'd love to." Danny takes your hand and you guys walk out onto the dance floor, music pounding.

You dance together, your bodies incredibly close to one another. 

At one point Danny is behind you, his arms on your waist and you can feel his breath on your neck making you shiver.

You're so in the moment you lean into his touch and it feels so nice you don't want it to end. 

Danny's breath is right next to your ear. "I like you like this."

"I like you too- I mean I- I like this too," you stumble out and Danny chuckles. 

He leans in and kisses you gently and when you don't pull away he kisses you harder. 

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" He whispers in your ear.

"Where's private here?"

"The bathroom." Danny says leading you away.

"This doesn't seem very sanitary... Or like the first time you've done this," you say looking around the dingey bathroom. 

"It probably isn't and no it's not, there's not a whole lot of places in Beacon Hills to meet guys... Do you not want to cause it's totally okay if you don't," he explains. 

You take another look at his abs and all your worries about sanitation fly out the window. 

"No we're doing this," you say grabbing his neck and pulling him in to kiss you.

You and Danny make out hard and heavy, backing up into the sinks. 

You make out a little more and pull away, hands resting on his hips.

"Shame about my hard work." Danny comments. 

You look back into the mirror and see the paint is smeared on your back.

"You can redo it when we're done... you got a condom?"

"Not on me but the good thing about this club is free condoms under the sink," he says reaching down and opening the cabinet door to reveal a box of condoms. 

"The gays think of everything don't they," you laugh but your mind goes blank when Danny tugs his pants down revealing his huge bulge through his underwear.

“Like what you see?” Danny asks, turning and showing you the rest of the jock he’s wearing.

“I really do... can I?” Your eyes are locked on his bulge.

“Go ahead. Do as much as you're comfortable with.” Danny says, patting your shoulder. 

You get down on your knees, eye level with the bulging red fabric. You press your nose to it and inhale the smell.

You tug the material down letting him free and he was even bigger than you ever imagined. 

You make long slow strokes with your hand and Danny moans at the touch. 

You flatten your tongue on the tip and he jolts at the contact.

You stop. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine!” Danny pants. “I promise, just wasn’t expecting that. Keep going.”

You nod and flatten your tongue against the tip again, then kiss up and down each side of the shaft. You finally put the fat head in your mouth.

Danny grips the edge of the sink counter, throwing his head back. 

You tease the tip for a minute before taking more of him in, not that there was any way you'd be able to fit all of his giant cock in your mouth. 

You get about halfway down when your gag reflex kicks in. 

You slowly back off and feel Danny’s hand on your cheek. 

“Like I said... -fuck- go only as much as you can handle.”

Danny may love sex but he’s all about making sure his partner is enjoying it and being safe as well, quickies included.

You kiss the palm of his hand and take his cock back between your lips, bobbing your head up and down. 

Reaching a hand around you squeeze his firm ass and Danny tangles his fingers in your hair.

Danny can feel that knot in his stomach start to tighten.

He pulls you off of him, "take your pants off and bend over the sink... I want to taste your ass."

You nod, trading places with him, undoing the button on your jeans, Danny yanking them down, along with your underwear, exposing your ass, "damn... your ass is amazing Y/N."

You gasp as Danny's hands touch and knead your ass.

He spreads you apart and takes a slow lick over your hole causing you to groan. 

Danny opens you up further and his tongue goes to town exploring you.

You're moaning loudly, not giving a damn if anyone hears, granted the music is so loud no one either can hear or gives a damn.

"Oh fuck Danny... keep doing that," you moan, "they don't keep lube in here do they?"

"Unfortunately no that's too expensive for people to steal but my tongue's already got you pretty wet," he smirks, admiring his work. 

He stands back up, grabbing the condom from earlier and putting it on. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop alright?" He says teasing you with the tip.

"I will... just go slow?" You ask.

Danny presses a kiss to the back of your neck, "I will," and he begins to push his fat cock inside of you.

He stops when the tip and an inch or so goes in, waiting for the word to keep going, this continues until he's balls deep inside of you.

"Holy shit," you grunt at the feel of being so full. 

Danny's front is pressed to your back as he starts thrusting, the paint from his chest mixing with yours.

"You like being full of my cock?" He questions.

"Yes Danny! I love how full you make me." You moan.

One of Danny's hands comes around you and pinches your nipple while the other starts to jerk your already leaking cock.

"So wet already? Maybe I should see if I can get you to cum from just you ass getting pounded? Want that baby? Tell me what you want," he mutters in your ear. 

"Fuck me Danny," you beg. 

Danny takes both hands and puts them on your waist, holding you still as he relentlessly pounds into you.

You can hear the sound of skin slapping skin as he pounds your ass with the occasional smack of your ass.

It only takes a few minutes of rigorous thrusts for you to cum onto the sink under you. 

"Told you I could make you cum without touching your cock," he says proudly. 

You turn back and kiss him, “I knew you could. But you still need to get off.”

"So get me off then," he grins. 

He takes the condom off so you can wrap your hand around him and stroke fervently.

You stroke him until he’s panting then stop and he whines but realizes you're getting to your knees, taking him into your mouth, determined to get him off.

Your mouth works him until he cumming between your lips.

Danny cums more than you were expecting but you still swallowed as much as you could. A little dribbles out the sides of your lips as Danny pulls out of your mouth.

You wipe your hand across and lick the excess off.

You stand back up and kiss him hard, letting him taste himself. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted this," he tells you. 

"Are you serious? I've been crushing on you for a year," you reply and you both laugh.

“Wow... well at least we did something now,” Danny says, kissing you again. 

You start to get redressed when he stops you, “Hey Y/N... did you still want to redo the paint? Or maybe head back to my house?” “Honestly I am kinda tired. So your place sounds nice."

The door swings open and you suddenly realize it was unlocked that entire time. 

Thankfully it was only Isaac. 

"Hey guys," he says. 

"Hey Isaac uh, don't worry about driving me home I'm going with Danny," you tell him. 

"You sure? You're not far from Allison's," he says completely clueless.

“I’m sure. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.” “Okay. See you later,” You and Danny squeeze past Isaac and make it out to Danny’s car when you can’t take it and bust out laughing.

"Oh my god! I cannot believe we left that door unlocked!” You exclaim.

"That was all part of the thrill," he smirks. 

"Wait you knew?" You gasp. 

"Let's go home," he says kissing you. 

Meanwhile inside Isaac finds Allison again. 

"Y/N left with Danny," he informs her. 

"Like left left with him?" She says getting excited.

Isaac, ever clueless, “maybe?”

Allison just smiles and taps his cheek. “I’ll take that as a yes."

"Should I have not let him go?" Isaac questions confused. 

"He's finally getting laid, he needs this," Allison laughs, "now what do you say we do the same and get out of here?". 

This time Isaac knows exactly what's going on. 

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

reid’s anatomy

summary: spencer gets a gunshot wound while working in the field and gets transported to the hospital you work in as a 4th year resident. 

word count: 2,325                                                                                             reading time aprox: 9 mins

masterlist

Gurneys, lights, flying commands, and patients. The trauma room was my favorite place to be, other than the OR of course, it felt like a second home. But nothing compared to the home I had when I laid in Spencer’s arms. 

I was currently working in the trauma room, triaging the patients as I did my rounds. I dismissed a few individuals that had minor injuries, while discovering various accidents that required solutions as small as stitching up a patient to booking an OR for an emergent surgery. 

“Honey can you move your toes for me please?”

In front of me lay my latest patient, a 5 year old boy who had been pushed off of a swing set and had happened to land on his ankle. His cheeks were painted red from the crying he had previously done, a thumb cemented into his mouth as he continued to suck on it for comfort. His mother sat beside him, panic evident in her eyes, although she kept an amiable expression to reassure her son on his well being. 

The boy shook his head frantically, earning a break in composure from the mother. She reached out and folded her hand over her son’s and held on tight to it, with a tight-lipped smile on her face. 

“You’re going to be okay Timothee, mommy’s right here sweetie”. The mother squeezed her son’s hands continuously, looking to me for answers.

“Your son- well Timothee here seems to have sprained his ankle” I explained in layman's terms, lifting up the boys ankle to locate where the injury occurred.  “The issue here is that he seems to have an eversion ankle sprain and has fractured his deltoid ligament, which is more uncommon than a inversion ankle sprain, since the deltoid ligament is close to impossible to fracture”. 

As I finished my description, the mother returned her attention to her son, massaging his head to console him. “We-well it’s just a sprained ankle right? It can heal. My husband has had multiple sprained ankles from how much of a klutz he is” She joked in attempt to lighten the mood. Despite her attempts, there was more news to deliver.

“I wish it was much more simpler than that” I sighed, motioning for the on-call nurse to come over. “Due to Timothee’s young age, my biggest concerns are the development of his bones, considering the fracture he had suffered and that the nerves responsible for motor skills in his legs might have been severed. In most adult cases, the individual is able to recover because the durability of the bone had been fully realized from age. But, Timothee here is at risk of deformation of his osseous matter” I doefully confessed, a small pit forming in my stomach while delivering his diagnosis. 

As the mother’s face dropped, I turned to the nurse telling her to call Neuro and Peds, then asked her to file the paperwork. I looked back at the small family with a sigh, placing his chart at the end of the bed. 

It was moments like these that make me envision the life I’m going to have with Spencer if we ever decided to have children together. Despite our young age, I couldn’t help up configure an idealistic future than only composed of me, Spencer, and 2 or 3 little children running around us in glee. 

“The nurse will be back with the pape-” 

I was cut off by sirens and a magnitude of shrilling voices shouting commands. These were the indications of an incoming trauma. I turned around to peak for a second with the possibility of wanting to check on another case, but the interns and 2nd year residents had beat me to it. 

My focus remained on the child in front of me, checking his vitals from time to time, while eavesdropping on the commotion behind me. 

“We’ve got a caucasian ma...federal...with a GSW in the thoracic cavity, with intercostal tears”. Most of the sentence was muffled by the loud wheels of the crash cart, residents fumbling around, and the attendings yelling orders at the scene. I turned around to witness the chaotic scene, only to be meet with heads full of hair and some that didn’t actually have hair at all. 

Geez, I wouldn’t want to be the guy with the GSW to his chest

In emergent surgery, GSW’s were the most lethal in the clinic as most of the time the patient is either too late or the bullet had caused multiple complications in the patient, causing distress in the body. The tricky thing about GSWs were that they were different every time, it was almost always a different procedure depending on the location. 

I nodded goodbye to the perturbed mother, earning a tight lipped smile and a nod back. I turned to walk towards the nurses station when suddenly I was paged to trauma room 3. I rushed over to the area, sanitizing my hands before walking in. A privacy drape hung from the lower abdomen of the individual, with nurses and residents scrambling to keep his vitals stabilized.   

I faced the trauma nurse as she explained the patients situation. “We’ve got a caucasian male, seems to be 25-35 with a GSW in his thoracic cavity with no exit wound, the bullet is possibly lodged in the pericardial cavity” She spoke in haste. 

“Push 10 of Norepinephrine and call Cardio” I stressed, rushing out of the room to find another resident to scrub into the surgery as I wasn’t finished with my rounds yet. 

On my way around the nurse’s desk I noticed a familiar face that sat glum and slumped over in his chair, well it was more like a familiar group of faces. My steps slowed in order to get a better view to confirm my suspicions, then shuffled over to determine what the occasion was. 

“Hey Morgan-hey guys” I furrowed my eyebrows at the group, my worry peaked at the numerous melancholy expression that they wore on their faces. Despite my observations, there was one face I noticed was missing from the ensemble. 

Spencer. 

A chill ran up my arm, which was usually an indication of something wrong. In spite of the unfavorable pit in my stomach, I was at my workplace where everything usually puts me on edge, so I pushed it aside. 

“Where’s Spenc-” 

My words faded out into an uncomfortable silence when Morgan lifted his head to face me and in his eyes were the deepest of browns, anguish pooled in his irises, similar to the look I gave to the mother of the patient I was treating previously. I glanced at the rest of the team, who wore a identical stares. 

My stomach had churned and twisted into knots. The chill that had ran up my arm traveled to my legs, all the way to the tips of my toes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, I could feel my heart still and my fingers twitch. The overhead lights of the clinic became overwhelmingly bright and a nauseating sensation began crawling up my throat. 

“Y/N-” Morgan began as I stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it in between his rough and sweaty palms, but I tensed in the midst of it, while adrenaline ran up my veins. 

“Reid, he’s...we-we were workin- I...he’s” 

Despite his attempts at an explanation, he wasn’t able to complete any of his phrases as I yanked my hand out of his grasp and bolted towards the trauma room. I heard my name being called in the background, although it became a voice of a phantom as my surroundings became impaired with the sounds of my heartbeat, the loud thuds my feet made as I raced towards the room, and the anxious thoughts that flooded my mind. 

I pushed into the room, only to see a bed was missing. I bee lined to where the residents were, pivoting around the various carts that decorated the room. “Where’s that patient with the GSW in his thoracic cavity? What resident was assigned on his case? What was his name?”. The words spewed out of my lips like a waterfall, earning alarmed looks from the residents. 

“Um, he was transported to OR 3″ One of them explained with naive looks on their faces. 

“Yeah, they’re in surgery right now with Dr. Burke and Dr. Montgomery” Another one added. 

“What’s the patient’s name? Do you remember?” I responded, prying them of all the information they knew. The residents peered at each other dumbfoundedly, looking at each other for answers as if they were taking their MLE exams again. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, no offense but you’re not on this case” One of the residents added with a condescending voice. 

“Dr. Mallory, if you don’t answer me in the matter of 10 seconds, I swear I will go to your senior resident and have you be doing scut for the rest of your medical career” I retorted. Fear was evident in all their eyes, I knew my eyes were brimming with multiple emotions, condensing into nothing but a fiery and aggressive tone.  

“Sp-spencer Reid, Ma’am” A quiet voice spoke up in the group. I nodded a small thank you to the individual and ran to the OR where they held Spencer. 

When I got into the prep room, I grabbed a face mask and entered the OR, witnessing a man’s body, the love of my life under heavy anesthesia and tubes wired up to his chest. Before I could speak, the attending spoke up and questioned me of my presence. 

“I-i was wondering if I could scrub in sir” I replied. “I-I, um, heard that there was in upc...incoming trauma for a GSW and I was wondering if I could scrub in” I repeated. 

“You already said that Dr. Y/L/N” 

“I understand sir, but I-” 

The attending than turned around exposing the sight of Spencer’s chest being retracted open. My entire body ached at the sight, the lifelessness of his body creating an image in my head that couldn’t compare to the images Spencer would see of his victims. I cringed and turned away, tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I knew I couldn’t let myself go, especially if I wanted to be included in Spencer’s operation. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, with all respect, I know you’re one of the best residents we have in this hospital and I know you’re a phenomenal doctor” The attending explained, letting one of the other senior residents take over for a moment. “But, I also know who this is laying on my table. For this case, you’re not his doctor, you’re family, and I need you to trust that I am able to do my job, as you do yours” He concluded, signaling to one of the nurses to take me out of the OR. 

I nodded hesitantly, following the nurse out of the room, my eyes still locked on the individual that lay on the table. After the nurse had went back inside, I sat on the ground with my hands on my lap, staring at the abyss of the hallway. 

Our future depends on if a single man can maneuver his scalpel with enough wisdom and efficiency. The father of my future children lay on the cold metal table, where I used to find comfort and power in when saving someone else’s loved one. Who knew there would be a time where the roles were switched. 

Who knew that no matter how many years you’ve trained, how many books you’ve read, and the degrees you’ve obtained to save people’s lives, you could still be powerless against what life throws at you. The worst part is the irony that comes with tragedies. I spent a quarter of my life learning how to save people, yet I sit here purposeless when someone that I live for is struggling to stay alive. How malicious is that. 

Tears began streaming down my cheeks, although my expression hasn’t changed. The wetness that enveloped half of my face was the only thing that reminded me of the reality that I was in, keeping my consciousness grounded momentarily. 

I swear my heart pauses, everytime I hear a change in the monitor that indicated Spencer’s vitals or a command that the attending would spew out to the helping resident. I was completely fixated on everything that was happening in the room adjacent to me, disregarding the entire atmosphere that lay in my vision. 

It wasn’t until large legs halted in front of where I was crouched down. I didn’t bother looking up as my thoughts clouded my sensibility. The figure then sat down to my level, I could feel the individual’s eyes boring at my blank visage. I felt a large arm pull me closer to the individual, only this time I realized it was Morgan who had come to console me. 

Awaiting a pursuance of some sort of speech that’s supposed to bring me clarity or amenity. But to my dismay, only the loud presence of silence filled the gap of our exchange. That’s when my emotions began to seep into my skin, filling my heart with heavy matter, making it close to impossible to keep up my facade. 

A whimper escaped my lips while I laid on Morgan’s shoulder for the time being, only for the rest of my somber to follow. I cried in defeat, holding onto the clutches of Morgan’s shirt as he gripped onto the back of my head, massaging it in the process. 

I felt droplets hit the top of my head and a wetness forming rapidly. Weak sniffles emitted from the man above me, betraying his collected composure. We both sat here together with heavy hearts, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. 

We both sat in silence waiting to see if his colleague was alive and if my everything was still breathing. 

-

Pt. 2

A/N:

Pt. 2 coming soon! most likely tomorrow. I was going to write the whole thing today, but frankly, I just need a fresh mind.  

Part 2 out now

[tinawritesstuff]

A Not So Friendly Match (Henry Cavill x Reader)

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ First Person Reader

Wordcount:  4.6k 

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, angst if you squint a little.

A/N: Hello! This was based on an idea my good friend @1ookatthestars00 gave me. I don’t know a thing about rugby, the stuff I wrote was purely researched on the internet, and I’m sorry if any of those facts is wrong. I hope you all enjoy, especially you my love! 

Taglist: @cavill-sass 

@tillthelandslide​ 

@1ookatthestars00 

@al-wiisa​

Being in a relationship with a rugby fan is never easy, considering they’re always on edge when their team plays some important game. Well, imagine what could possibly happen in a relationship with not only one, but two rugby fans, AND from different teams.

Henry and (Y/N) were both a really particular couple. Both of them stubborn, hardworking and passionate about the different activities and stuff they enjoyed doing and watching. One of those being rugby, they supported their teams separately and in their own ways: Henry would always have both a bottle of Guinness beer and his Jersey beanie on top of his head, and his girlfriend would always have a Guernsey shirt and a bottle of beer next to a bowl of chips.

What happens when both their favorite teams were set to play against each other in the annual rugby union charity match and Henry gets invited to play? We’re about to find out.

Today couldn’t have gone any worse than it went. Working for the English National Health Service, and considering this Covid nightmare, is not easy at all. Specially when you have to work to help people and on top of that, be extra careful to not get infected. All I wanted to do was to go back home and enjoy some time with my man.

When I get inside my home, I leave my shoes and coat inside the little closet by the door after sanitizing them and myself with a lot of alcohol gel and frown when I don’t see Henry nor Kal coming to welcome me back, which is weird considering that they both came back from Scotland yesterday and, usually when that’s the case, they run to fill me with loads of love. I start walking to the living room, going though the foyer whistling for Kal, but they never come. When I reach said room, I find both my boys laying in the couch with the tv on in front of them and, when they notice my presence, the two bears run my way. Henry engulfs me in his arms and picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his strong torso; Kal? Oh, that bear. He just jumps between Hen and I, positioning himself on my lap, thankfully my human beast is strong enough to hold us both up in his arms.

We laugh together and suddenly I feel a complete sense of peace I missed all day. He’s here, with me, he’s home. He feels like home. Hen puts us down, keeping his hands on my waistñ for good measure, and we finally share a wonderful, earthshaking kiss (well, not literally, but you know what I mean).

- How was your day, dove?

- Ugh. – it’s all I need to say and he chuckles. – Honestly, I love my job but sometimes it can be a lot.

- I understand. Want to talk about it?

- Not really, honey. – I pout a little and he pecks my lower lip, then goes for a deeper kiss, which has me sighing against his mouth.

When we break apart, I pay attention to his attire and I see that he’s wearing his Jersey shirt, which can possibly mean one thing.

- Is Jersey supposed to play today? I didn’t hear anything about it.

- Nope, love. I’m wearing this shirt because I had to make a post on Instagram, thanking Jersey for inviting me to play a match for the charity event they’re running next Saturday.

- Oh, that’s great news, bubs! – I exclaim excitedly and he nods his head with a big smile. – I won’t cheer for the team, but I’ll obviously be there to support you and help you take care of your wounds.

- Oh baby, nothing would make me happier. You gonna be wearing my Jersey shirt? – he smiles cheekily and I let out an unlady-like snort.

- Yeah, right. – I roll my eyes, but smile anyway. – I love you, bear, but not even my love for you will change the fact that Jersey, to me, is the worst fucking team since the appearance of rugby in this world.

- You did not just say that. – he pretended to be deeply hurt and I just let out a giggle when he tickles my ribs. – You’re a little shit.

I only laugh in his face and retire myself from his arms, to go shower and change my work attire. He follows after me and I just know what he’s planning to do.

Once inside the room, I start removing my uniform jacket, then my pants, leaving myself in my underwear in front of the touch starved man that’s standing by the door. I look at him, batting my lashes innocently, and then shake my head.

- Don’t even think about it, handsome. I have this horrible hospital smell, and I don’t want to do anything else but shower it off.

- Mhm, I was actually thinking, - he paused and moved his hand through his strong jaw, as if he was actually thinking. – I haven’t showered today, and I went to the gym this afternoon with Kal after our cardio session, it would be a shame to waste such quantity of water if we shower separately, don’t you think?

- Oh, how thoughtful of you, Cavill. – I roll my eyes at him but a little smirk takes place on my face.

I grab a towel from the drawer and head to the attached bathroom, unclasping my bra and removing it from my body as I walk. I turn my head to Henry’s direction and smile alluringly at him.

- You coming or not, handsome? – and then disappear inside through the door.

Saturday comes way quicker than I expected it and thankfully I wasn’t set to cover any shift that day, which gave me the opportunity to be with Henry and go to the match with him. We had traveled to Jersey the day before to get settle in the island peacefully and with no rush, and this same morning, we woke up together to go for a run with Kal, then came back and showered (separately this time, because he had things to fix and settle before leaving) and finally had breakfast before he took off, leaving me with Kal.

Which brings us here, to the afternoon, a couple of hours before the match. I usually know what to wear to events like this, considering that it’s not something really fancy (or is it?), but today seems not to be the case, because I can’t decide if I should go elegant but casual, or completely casual.

I decide to text Henry to ask him, but in the meantime, I decide to pamper myself a bit and do my skincare routine, because the last time I did it was waaaaaaay long ago. After I’m done, I continue with my hair and finally, I paint my nails. When I check my phone again, I see that Henry has replied and the text says:

Wear anything you want to, just not that dirty Guernsey shirt xX.

I smile and shake my head, because I can’t understand how my love for this man only grows more and more each day, even though we have so different preferences. Guess that’s what makes our relationship so interesting and versatile.

I decide to go with casual, but pretty. I grab a pair of plaid pants, cream sweater and my pointy shoes. I pick a light brown coat and a black beanie, but I leave them on the bed to put them on later.

After what feels like years, I see Hen’s car stopping by the front gate and I put on my coat and beanie to get out of the house. I lock the door, run to his car and I can hear him wolf whistling my way, which makes me laugh out loud. I open the passenger door seat to get into the car, greet him with a big smile and a long kiss, which he reciprocates with big passion.

When I’m done, I decide to wait for Henry in the foyer, checking social media and uploading a picture of me smiling with my sunglasses on, on my Instagram Story with the caption “Ready to support my bear! (Not Jersey though 🤮🤮!)” and tag Henry on it.

The drive to St. Peter (currently known as Stade Santander International) is a relatively long one, considering that the house we were renting was on the opposite side of the island, and when we arrive, I can see a bunch of people with cameras and flashes waiting for Henry to make his big appearance. He parks the car, stops it and then we get off to walk hand in hand to the big entrance of the stadium. When we get inside, I can see the big pitch in front of me and I can’t help but feel giddy about the idea of watching a match from up close, after the longest time of my life. Henry talks with some people, introduces me to some other and then they finally lead him to the changing rooms and showers for him to get ready for the match.

I pace around, just looking at the walls’ decorations, the medals, trophies, everything. I take pictures, but only to take the piss on Henry and tell him that Guernsey has waaaaay more prizes than Jersey does (which isn’t true, but I love to rile him up). After that, I decide to check social media while I continue walking around, until I reach the stairs that lead me to the chairs. Once I’m situated, I sit on one of the chairs, that it’s actually in front of the pitch so it gives me a really good view of the arena, and keep scrolling through my Instagram page until I hear someone clearing their throat. I look up and I can see a smiling Henry staring at me expectantly, which causes me to widen my eyes and bite my lip, because he looks just so good right now, that I don’t know if we’ll make it to the house before I make him rip my clothes off.

- Sooo, what do you think? – he looks down at himself and then back at me. - Do I look like a rugby player?

- Mmmmhm, don’t know. Turn around. – I order and he giggle but does as I say. – Mmm, yeah, that’s what I thought.

I look down at his shorts- covered butt, and it looks exactly the way I was expecting. I slap one his cheeks playfully and he let’s out a surprise yelp, turning his body back around to face me again. Hen leans down and kisses me slowly, tasting the waters first, but I grab his face and pull him as close to me as the bar lets us, which earns me a moan from him.

When we break the kiss, I peck his forehead and look at him right in the eyes. It’s a promise, a little ritual we have and perform to assure the other that we’re present, that we’re proud of our accomplishments, that we love each other no matter what. He smiles widely at me and moves his head to the side to kiss my palm, and I peck both his cheekbones before pecking his lips one last time.

- You’ll be amazing. No matter what, I’ll be here supporting your sexy ass till the end. I love you, bear.

- You’re so good to me, my love. So, so, so good you have no idea. – he goes back to kiss me and then breaks away. – I love you; I need to run and warm up. Don’t go anywhere, okay?

- Okay.

He takes off, leaving me alone with the feeling of his lips still lingering on my mouth, and I take a seat to enjoy the game that’s set to start in a few minutes.

The reporter starts making the presentation of the local team, explaining what positions the players will be playing in, and when he goes to the visiting team, my eyes widen and I start laughing uncontrollably. It’s fucking Guernsey.

Now my heart is definitely torn. What am I supposed to do? Cheer for my beloved boyfriend or my favorite team? Ugh, this is a decision I never thought I’d have to make.

The game starts, Jersey takes the lead but one of the Guernsey guys tackles him away from the score area, which causes me to cheer and jump excitedly. Henry is sitting on the backups bench, so I don’t have to cheer for him just yet; meaning I can actually support my team.

The first half ends quicker than I would’ve expected, with Guernsey on top by five points, which has me giddy. It’s when the second half starts that the coach decides to bring my bear in, and I clap excitedly while watching him running into the pitch. The referi indicates the continuation of the game with his whistle, and I can see Henry grabbing the ball and running away from the big men that go after him. I take a deep breath, trying to convince myself that he’s done this before, he know what he’s doing and everything’s going to be fine.

I have mixed feelings about this, going from super scared to super horny at the same time. One of the many things that made me fall for this man were his looks and the macho demeanor, so seeing him dodging punches (but also receiving a few), tackling other guys and running away like a wild animal just wakes up a deep desire inside me.

Oh, that man is going to have it good tonight. I don’t even care how tired he is, he’ll have to fix the mess he created on my panties.

The game finally ends with the victory of Guernsey over Jersey, and I just know I have to mock Henry about it. The whole team goes inside, to the showers I suppose, and I decide to go after them and wait for my man outside the changing room door. When I reach my destiny, I check for good measure that Henry is, in fact, in there; which he is. I look to the sides, noticing the he’s alone, I walk to him and hug his neck from behind startling him a bit.

- Well, hello mister. – I whisper in his ear and he kisses one of my arms.

- Hello, my dear love. – he replies in a tired voice.

- I know for a fact that you’re tired, but I have to admit that watching you there, playing like a bull, got me quite excited…- I admit in a sultry voice, kissing the spot behind his ear. – I’m so wet for you baby, specially since Guernsey beat your ass as well. – I giggle and take a step back because I know what’s coming for me.

- Oh honey, you better stop if you know what’s good for you. I’m not in the mood to be mocked. – he warns me turning his body to face me.

He arches one of his eyebrows while looking at me starting to undo the buttons of my coat.

- Oh Henry, but I know exactly what’s good for me.

I continue undressing myself until I’m standing in from of him in just my underwear, but he ignores me and keeps removing his sweaty attire to get into the shower.

- C'mon, baby. Are you going to give up on me and lose the opportunity to fuck my brains out like you lost the game?

Fuck, I know that my ass is going to burn like boiling water tomorrow, but I’m so wet for him that I don’t care about the consequences right now.

- This is the last warning, baby girl. Stop right at this moment or your ass in gonna look like sweet, red peach tomorrow.

- Ugh, maybe I should go ask one of the Guernsey guys to help me with this, after all they can score anything they want. But you can’t, can you babe?

Apparently, that’s the last thing I need to say, because he gets up from his place abruptly and walks towards me in a speed I’d never seen before. He grabs me by both my biceps and looks at me dead in the eyes, making me gulp and look at him as innocently as I can, but I know he doesn’t buy my façade.

- Do you want to repeat that, my love? – he asks in a threating tone

- No, daddy.

- That’s what I thought. – he removes his briefs in a quick movement without letting go of me and throws them away – Not so smart now, are you? Is this what you wanted? Huh? You wanted me to punish you like the slut you are?

- Oh god, Henry. – I let out in a moan and close my eyes, but he grabs my face in one of his big hands and makes me open them again.

- What did you call me, little one? Didn’t quite catch that.

- Daddy, I meant daddy. – I cry out when the hand that isn’t holding my face goes down my body till he reaches my underwear.

- You want to repeat what you said, my darling?

- No daddy, I’m sorry.

- It wasn’t a request, bunny. It was an order.

I gulp audibly and shake my head, because suddenly I feel a level of embarrassment and I don’t want to say it. He pulls my hair, not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make me whimper and close and open my eyes to make the tears go away.

- Now, let’s try again. What did you say earlier?

- Get dressed, we’re going home.

- That I should go to one of the Guernsey guys and ask him to fuck me because any of them would be better than you. – I close my eyes and take a deep breath, because now I’m regretting not thinking before saying it – But I didn’t mean it, daddy. No one fucks me better than you, I promise.

- I’m not sure now, (Y/N).

Fuck, he rarely calls me by my name. Specially not when we’re about to fuck. He’s mad, but mostly he’s hurt.

On the way to the place we’re staying at, none of us says anything. Him because he’s mad, and me because I don’t dare to utter a word out. Should I apologize? I know he’s hurt, because we don’t joke about other people “replacing” us, especially in cases like this.

The only sound is the radio, but even that won’t stop me from thinking that I fucked up. Badly. When we reach the house, he parks and stops the engine, but doesn’t get out of the car.

- Hen… - I try in a soft voice.

- Don’t. Don’t say a word. I want you to get out of this car, go to the room and wait for me on the bed in your underwear.

I let out a quiet whimper, but do as he says. When I get inside the house, Kal comes to greet me and I pet him, going to the room right after. I reach the room and then do as Henry told me to.

I can hear him playing with Kal and greeting him, and he stays with the bear for a good couple of minutes. In the meantime, I’m still laying on the bed, wearing just underwear.

He comes into the room and stays by the door, watching me quietly. And just when I think he’s going to make a move on me, he just walks past the bed and doesn’t pay me any mind. I let out a huff and turn to lay on my belly, leaving my ass exposed for him to see.

He takes his good time in the bathroom, showering I suppose, and when he comes out he’s wearing nothing but a white towel around his slim waist, leaving his hairy chest on display. I bite my lip and extend my arms to signal him that I want him with me in the bed. He sighs and walks slowly towards my direction.

- You know you overstepped the line today, right? – he asks me once he’s sitting next to me and all I can do is nod – You hurt my feelings, little one.

- I know that, Hen, and I’m so, so, sorry. I swear I regretted saying it the moment the words left my mouth – I pout and hesitate to go closer to him, because I don’t know if he wants me to touch him.

Henry only nods and opens his arms, which makes me move closer to him and hug his strong body, leaving my head on his lap.

- I don’t want any other man but you, my love. I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have, because you’re more than enough for me. – I whisper against the skin of his stomach, and then leave a little peck in there.

- I know that, my dove. It’s okay.

- It’s not though. You’ve spent every single day since the moment we became an item making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You’ve made me feel enough and loved and cared for, and I promised to myself that I was going to try my hardest and making you feel the same security you make me feel. Today I failed you, and I’m sorry, even if it was a joke.

He says nothing, only grabs my jaw with one hand and leans down to kiss me. I put my hand around his wrist, and I feel him deepen the kiss, which makes sigh against his mouth. We break apart and I get on my knees in front of him, looking into his eyes, and grabbing his face to kiss him one more time, more fiercely this time.

- Let me make it up to you, my love. Let me prove to you that you’re the only man I need. – I whisper against his mouth and he grabs my body and turns us around, so he’s on top of me.

- You can do that later, honey. Now I’m going to show you that I’m the only man you’ll ever need.

With that, he just devours my mouth with his, making me whimper and moan, while roaming his hands up and down the sides of my body. Then, he poses his fingers on the waistband of my panties and pulls them down, kissing my thighs and then my calves as he removes the undergarment from my body. After that, he goes touching all the way up, going from legs to my back, until he reaches my bra and unclasps it, taking it off next.

Henry looks at me in the eyes and then attaches his mouth to one of my nipples, making me gasp and grab his curls to pull him closer to me. Then he goes for my other nub, which is the most sensitive one of the two pair, and it makes me let out a long moan. Hen spends some good time on it, to finally let it go of his mouth with a pop.

- I want to make you feel so good, my love. Even though I don’t think you deserve it.

- Oh, Henry. – I whimper when he starts to travel south, leaving a trail of kisses on my belly and then my mound.

He then attaches his mouth to my labia, lapping and kissing around my lips and entrance, paying no mind to my little bundle of nerves, which causes me to let out a groan of protest. He’s got me so wet since the match started, this isn’t fucking fair.

He starts to make out with my lower lips, putting his tongue in the way and using it to run it around all the lower area of my womanhood, slowly, but with fervour. Then, he goes to my inner thigh and leaves kisses in one and the other. Then, he goes back to my entrance and starts penetrating me with his tongue, while looking at me in the eyes. He’s going hurtfully slow, and it causes me to arch my back in desperation, because I need him to just fuck me senseless.

Of course, I enjoy slow, passionate sessions of love making, but right now all I want is for him to become a wild stud and fuck my brains out. He inserts two of his fingers inside of me, kissing my mound while doing so. Finally, I can feel him moving the two impostors that rest inside my pussy, building a good pace, starting slowly and then increasing the speed. I pull his curls to bring his head closer to me, and he moans against me, making me shudder.

He finally, finally, gets his tongue on my clit, lapping around it and flicking it to bring me closer to my well needed release. After a couple of minutes, I can feel my walls clenching around his fingers, and so does he.

- C'mon baby, give it to me. I can feel your sweet, tight cunt squeezing my fingers. Cum for me. – he encourages me and that’s all the motivation I needed to let it go.

I let out a loud and long moan, holding his head against my sensitive wetness with one hand and one of the soft pillows under my hair with the other. I close my eyes trying to get myself together again, and I feel him kissing his way up my body. He positions himself on top of me, caging me between his body and the mattress, and leaves his weight resting on his elbows on either side of my head. Henry leans down and kisses me briefly, letting me taste myself on his mouth, and I wrap my legs around his thick, strong body, to feel him even closer.

Without any warning, he gets inside me, making me gasp loudly and hold onto him for dear life. His thrusts are deep and calculated, as they usually are when he’s in the mood to go slow. My body wraps itself more tightly around his, and we share a breathtaking kiss, making the connection grow even more. As the passion rises, his movements become sloppier and more uncoordinated, which gives away that he’s getting close to his own release. I cling to him even more, hiding my face between his head and shoulder, and he moves one of his hands to stimulate my clit. That’s all I need to come for the second time tonight.

- Ohh, baby, you feel so good. C’mon Hen, cum for me. Know you’re close, come on. – I encourage him and he moans in my ear.

- Oh, baby girl, I’m going to fill you up so good. You’ll feel me right here. – Henry puts his hand on my lower belly and I let out a moan.

- C’mon bear, I can feel you throbbing inside my little cunt, fill me up and put a baby in me.

He lets out a moan and groans loudly, letting himself go inside me, filling my womb with his seed. I don’t know if that comment came because of the heat of the moment, but it caused the effect I was looking for. He lets himself collapse on top of me, and stays there for a couple of seconds before moving his head to the side to kiss me. I reciprocate the gesture, holding him closer to me (as if that was even possible) and finally let him go.

- I love you so much. – I whisper looking at him in the eyes, those beautiful baby blues.

- I love you too, my love. – he kisses my forehead and then breaths in. – I love you too.

It’s the last thing I hear before falling asleep, peacefully wrapped between his strong arms. Where I belong.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without. 

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him. 

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison. 

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved. 

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?” 

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor. 

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand. 

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father. 

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

[transsergio]

154 ("Are you sure you two aren't married?") with Moreid !

this is an ask i asked myself (ashdsd) a month ago and i’ve had the draft sitting in my docs for that long it’s driving me nuts just t a k e  i t (ROUGH EDITING WARNING)

1.5k words, Moreid, rated G for God Why Can’t I Finish Anything

The case was over. At least, in terms of the unsub. In terms of their trip home, they were yet to leave LA. The rest of the team were on their way to the airport, but Morgan demanded a detour.

“We’re going to make everyone wait,” Spencer complained.

Morgan shrugged, casually parallel parking their hulking SUV. He leaned over the center console and pointed at the coffee shop wedged into the street corner. “The team will be fine. I need whatever they’re selling if you want to make it to the jet in one piece.”

Spencer sighed but gathered his shoulder bag in his lap. If nothing else, he really didn’t want to spend any more time in the California heat. How many cases did they really need in the dead of summer? Spencer knew the statistic, but it didn’t make the temperature bearable.

Before Spencer could reach for his door handle, Morgan had yanked it aside for him. He beamed down at Reid like this was some kind of victory.

“I can open my own doors,” Spencer grumbled as he scrambled from the car. Morgan scoffed behind him.

“I would also accept a ‘thank you’,” he teased.

Spencer didn’t return the favor. Instead, he strode into the coffee shop by himself and let the glass door shut behind him. He only looked over his shoulder once he’d claimed a place in line. Waiting in the Los Angeles sunshine, Morgan stood with his hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised. Spencer was sure he was glaring behind the sunglasses as he stood, statuesque, a full ten to twenty seconds before breaking down and opening the door himself. Spencer didn’t try to hide his smirk.

The line was only six or so customers long, but the room was tight. There were no tables inside, only staggered chairs to discourage patrons from sitting around and having a bite. Nonetheless, the glass case beside the register was stuffed with pastries – most of which were loaded with some kind of cream cheese. While Spencer debated going back to the car and grabbing his Lactaid, Morgan scanned for the options with the most protein.

They shuffled forward bit by bit and tried to settle their order, knowing Derek would be the one to do the talking.

“I’ve got a tall black coffee and a breakfast sandwich. You?”

“Do you think they do Frappuccinos?”

“I would say, yeah. This is LA, Reid.”

“Fair point. Alright, then an iced caramel Frappuccino and… a chocolate croissant.”

Morgan folded his arms over his chest. “Really? You’re going to put away all that dairy?”

Another customer cleared the counter and they inched closer.

“Yes, Morgan, really. I know what I’m doing.” Reid rolled his eyes.

“I know you do. But I’m the one sitting next to you in a metal tube for five hours.”

“So?” The more Morgan tried to parent him, the more defensive Spencer became. “Parent” wasn’t even the right word, but Spencer was never sure what Morgan was doing – it felt protective, but verged on condescending. And it was different when they were out in the field. Reid didn’t mind being tackled to the ground when they were suddenly under gunfire, even if he whined about grass stains later. Morgan never hit him too hard anyway. What he did mind was being thought of as a child, even if he was one comparatively.

Morgan shrugged. “Don’t come crawling to me when you’re gassy for half the flight.”

This conversation was now bordering on paternal.

Spencer kept his mouth shut as they scooted over the sticky tile floors. God, he wanted to go home. When they finally reached the register, he cringed as Derek laid his palms on the cashier’s counter. He watched Morgan mask his disgust as he slowly drew his hands back and wiped them on his pants. At least they had that much in common.

The cashier took Derek’s order and asked, “Anything else?”

Derek looked to Reid expectantly. Spencer furrowed his brown and nodded. Morgan didn’t need to double-check with him. He was an adult who’d made up his own mind, for the love of God.

Derek returned to the barista as if they were throwing caution to the wind. “And I guess, a grande caramel Frappucino with a chocolate croissant, please.”

“Iced,” Spencer mumbled, nudging Derek’s elbow.

“Sorry, an iced grande caramel Frappucino.”

The barista’s eyes flitted between the two of them, though she said nothing. She handed Derek his change and they moved to wait at the end of the counter.

“Was that so hard?” Spencer asked under his breath. He didn’t need to glance up to know Derek heard him; Derek always did, even when the team was working too fast and their voices piled on top of each other. Spencer’d have his eyes trained on some mark in the table, a wrinkle in their documents, or the only non-bloodied piece of evidence as he spoke. When he eventually made eye contact, Derek would be set on him and him only. Reid wasn’t sure if he felt like he was being watched, or paid attention.

And since Derek made no comment, he must’ve ignored him. Like he was a petulant child.

Or, he was still trying to wipe the mess from his hands.

When Spencer realized it was the latter, he dug into the outside pocket of his bag.

“Here,” he offered, taking Derek’s hand in his own. He squirted a hefty helping of hand sanitizer into Morgan’s palm and without thinking, rubbed it in himself. It was an economic decision, Spencer decided, considering he only had so much hand sanitizer. Sharing is caring, right?

Morgan kept quiet until the little bottle was tucked into Reid’s satchel again. He murmured, “Thanks.”

Spencer nodded. It was Derek’s turn to avoid eye contact. Maybe he just didn’t like the reverse; that Spencer could take care of him for a change.

“Reid? Spencer Reid, your order’s ready,” a barista called.

Spencer rolled his eyes. Of course Morgan used his name. It was a turn-taking system that allowed Spencer to speak as little as possible, but made Morgan feel like coffee was a two-person job.

At least they each carried their own drinks. As they were heading out, Morgan ahead of Spencer just to hold the door for him, the barista yelled after them.

“Mr. Reid, wait! Your husband’s food!”

Spencer whirled on his heels to see one of the staff dangling a paper bag over the edge of the counter. He stumbled towards them with intermittent glances behind to make sure Morgan didn’t follow him. God, he hoped Derek didn’t hear that. The whole jet would be in on the joke in under an hour.

Reid thanked them and took Morgan’s sandwich, all while trying to correct the mistake. “Actually, we’re just co-workers.”

The barista looked him up and down. “You sure you two aren’t married?”

“Pretty sure,” his voice cracked, “But, thanks again.”

Reid’s cheeks heated. They had to be bright red. He could hope he was as pasty as always, but he’d also need Morgan to be so hungry he didn’t notice… whatever this was. Spencer had been humiliated plenty of times in his life, and this didn’t feel like that. It wasn’t his mistake, after all. But something inside him burned.

Sure, there were indicators that they were closer than your average peers. Those same indicators popped up with everyone in the unit. It was bound to happen when you spent the majority of your time around the same six people, more-so when four of those six people were highly trained behavior analysts. But had anyone ever thought he was dating Prentiss, or engaged to Rossi? If they did, they’d never be confident enough to say it out loud.

Spencer flashed through the last twenty minutes of his life. He had never shared hand sanitizer with Prentiss, had never had Rossi care enough about his dairy intake to say something. Had never felt so over-protected and playful and embarrassed at the same time. Was that how Morgan flirted? It couldn’t be. He saw how Morgan and Penelope treated each other. It was blatant, grossly sweet, or plainly gross. But they were kidding (on some level). If Morgan was genuinely flirting, would he hide it?

He was at the car before he could come to a conclusion. Morgan swung into the driver’s seat and took his sandwich from Spencer’s limp hands.

“Reid. Kid. What’s going on?”

“What?” Spencer asked. He turned to Morgan. Derek’s sunglasses sat lower on his nose now. His brow was creased and he held Spencer at eye contact-gun point.

“What’d the barista say in there? Looked like you were talking.”

“Oh,” Spencer shook his head. He tried to focus on situating his bag under his seat. “Nothing. Just making sure it was the right order.”

“You sure?”

Spencer sighed. “Yes, Mom. I’m sure.”

Derek backed onto the street and the tangled web of LA highways in silence. The radio filled in some of the gaps as Reid fiddled with the stations and LA drivers were liberal with their car horns. As they slowed into stop and start traffic, Derek relaxed his grip on the wheel. He cocked his head to the side.

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Never call me ‘Mom’ again.”

Oh. So maybe this wasn’t paternal after all. Reid blushed.

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 22: Can’t Refuse

Chapter 21

Read on AO3

Jamie pulled up in front of the Beauchamp apartment, his heart hammering. For some reason, he was even more nervous than their first date. And for some reason, even though he’d eaten dinner with both Claire and Faith in that very kitchen once before, it still felt brand new and very frightening.

Claire had texted him on Monday afternoon that her shift ended at five on Wednesday, followed by:

So how’d you like to make good on that promise of homemade lasagna?

He got out of the car and wiped his sweaty palms on his cargo shorts, then opened the back seat to retrieve the prepped ingredients that he’d taken care of last night. He’d already browned the beef and onions and portioned out all the cheeses so all they had to do was layer the ingredients and pop it in the oven.

By the time he’d finished with his last client at the stables, got home, and showered the smell of horses off of him, it was already almost six. He jogged up the driveway, bags in hand, and his heart immediately felt lighter to see Faith in the front window, nose pressed against the glass, flapping her hands. Claire pushed aside the curtain and firmly grasped one of her daughter’s hands before opening the front door before Jamie even reached the top step.

“Hallo there, Princess Faith,” Jamie said fondly, his cheeks already sore from smiling. She was humming loudly, on the verge of even yelling.

“Hey, hey…” Claire bent down and hoisted Faith up despite her protestations, holding her close and rubbing her back. “Yes, I know…we are very excited to cook with Jamie…”

They shuffled out of the doorway and Jamie closed the front door, locking it again behind him.

“Shh…easy, baby…”  Claire bounced her gently and stroked her back. “I know, I know…”

She tried launching herself forward toward Jamie, nearly toppling headfirst out of Claire’s arms, and Jamie leapt forward to catch her.

“I got her,” Claire assured. “Hey, hey, it’s okay…I know…”

Her shouting quieted to a constant buzz of hums, and she rocked forward and back in Claire’s arms. “There you go. Good girl.”

“Aye, there ya go, lass. Good job.” Jamie offered a thumbs up, which Faith returned, still rocking.

“Okay, time to wash up. Can’t cook with dirty doggie hands.” Claire scrunched her nose up and leaned close to Faith’s face, and Faith giggled, shaking her curly head.

“Say hello to Angus and then wash your hands as well,” Claire said, putting Faith down. “No dirty doggie hands for you either.”

Jamie chuckled. “Aye, aye, captain.”

He put the bags down in the kitchen then knelt down to scruff up Angus’s neck. He heard Claire’s lilting voice from the bathroom, saying some sing-song little rhyme to help Faith wash her hands, and he sighed with contentment. What a gift it was to be privy to hear something so intimately beautiful that mother and daughter shared.

Claire and Faith emerged from the hallway, Claire holding both of Faith’s hands and waddling awkwardly, and then Jamie noticed that Faith was standing on her feet.

“Can’t have her touching anything,” Claire explained.

“Ye keep her sterile like a surgeon before dinner?”

Claire gave him a look, rolling her eyes. “Go on, Fraser. Sanitize.”

He saluted her before making his way to the bathroom to follow orders. As the water ran over his hands, he heard music coming from the kitchen, followed by little hands clapping. He smiled again, drying his hands, then made his way back to the kitchen. Claire had taken everything out of the bags and created a spread on the table for them to work with, and Faith was sitting dutifully in her chair, rocking back and forth to “Heigh-Ho,” that sweet, absent smile on her face. She was wearing a little yellow apron with bumblebees on it.

“Almost forgot,” Jamie said. “Cooking time is music time.”

“That’s right,” Claire said, taking the phone off the table. Faith moaned, reaching up to take it back. “I’m not turning it off, I’m just moving it. Look. See?” She put the phone on the counter and raised the volume a bit. “See? We need room to cook on the table. Yes?”

Faith leaned heavily on the table to hoist herself onto her knees in her chair.

“Alright. Are we ready?” Claire sat down, and Jamie sat down across from her so that Faith was in between them. Faith slapped the table excitedly. “Quiet hands, Faith. Thank you.”

“Alright,” Jamie said. “Let me show ye, now — oh! Did ye heat the oven?”

“Started when you were washing your hands.”

He nodded curtly. “Bonny.”

He spread a thin layer of sauce in the pan, then dumped the beef and the remaining sauce into a large stirring bowl. He gave Faith the wooden spoon and instructed her to stir.

“Watch, a leannan.” He made big stirring motions with his hands, and Faith began copying him with two hands, causing the bowl to spin.

“Woah!” Claire cried, seizing the bowl before it could spin out of control and create a disaster. Faith squealed at the commotion, but she resumed her task, clumsily trudging the spoon through the bowl.

“Good job, lass. Fine stirring,” Jamie encouraged her. “Let me finish it off, now, so it’s all ready. May I have the spoon?”

Faith yanked the spoon out of the bowl, splashing sauce and beef onto the table and Jamie’s shirt, which was thankfully black, him having anticipated a possible mess. Claire, to her credit, was wearing black shorts, but a lavender t-shirt. The adults laughed off the little mess, and Jamie took over stirring, getting it evenly mixed.

Next, they began layering. Jamie would put in the liquid ingredients while Claire counted out loud with Faith, one through five lasagna noodles, and then they placed them inside. They repeated this until the ingredients were depleted and the dish was full.

“And look at that! All ready fer the oven!” Jamie said.

“Yay!” Claire said, waving her hands in applause. “Good job, little chef.”

Faith jiggled her hands as well, and then looked back at Jamie to be sure he was applauding her as well, and he was, of course.

“Alright, lovie, sit with Mummy while Jamie opens the oven.” Claire pulled Faith into her lap and held on tight, nodding to Jamie when she was secure. He popped the dish in and set the microwave timer for an hour. Claire tried to take Faith’s apron off, but she groaned in annoyance, and pawed Claire’s hands away.

“Suppose she’s no’ done being a chef until it’s cooked, aye?” Jamie smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

“I suppose not,” Claire said, releasing Faith to scramble off her lap. She pattered over to the counter where Claire had put her phone down and picked it up again, wanting to hear the music more clearly. The song changed and Faith hummed excitedly. From the French in the opening lines, Jamie deduced that “Be Our Guest” was about to play.

“Ah! They're making dinner in this song, aye? Like you, wee Faith,” he said.

Faith put the phone back on the table and threw her hands up, then proceeded to skip around the kitchen in time with the music, flapping her hands all the while.

“Sings and dances?” Jamie said, sidestepping her path to make his way back to the table.

“Hm. Yeah.”

Jamie sat down in Faith’s seat, closer to Claire, and he gingerly reached out for her hand. She looked up at him, and then they both leaned in for a brief, sweet kiss.

“Hi,” Claire said, stroking his stubbled chin.

“Hi,” he returned, tucking a curl back that had slipped loose from her ponytail.

Claire opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, two little hands slapped one of each of their knees. Faith looked up at Claire expectantly, and then Claire turned to look sheepishly at Jamie.

“She wants me to dance with her.”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Then who am I to stop ye?”

Claire blushed and got out of her chair, taking Faith’s hands in hers. The grand finale of the song was nearing, and Faith kept insisting on being twirled. Jamie noticed that she was entranced by the way her apron swished about when she twirled. The song ended, and Jamie applauded from his seat.

“Bonny dancers, both of ye,” he said. Faith gave a dramatic, silly little curtsy, holding the edges of her apron.

A familiar drum riff came from the phone, and Faith began jumping up and down.

“Oh no…” Claire said, blushing at Jamie again.

“What?”

“I only have myself to blame for always getting so into it…but she expects a full performance of this one whenever it comes on. Every time.”

Jamie tossed his head back in a barking laugh, and Faith continued tugging on Claire’s hands. Claire did not look ready to give a full performance; she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

Well, James, looks like there’s only one choice.

He jumped to his feet with a flourish, and jumped in with the singer:

“Let’s get down to business to defeat the Huns!”

He watched as Claire’s jaw fell slack and Faith whipped around, abandoning all hope for Claire’s performance and focusing on Jamie’s instead. They’d discussed Jamie’s lack of pitch before, so it was no surprise to him that Claire was soon doubled over in her chair, tears of laughter leaking out of her eyes. It sounded just fine to him, and to Faith as well, he supposed. Though he wasn’t sure if Faith laughed her head off when Claire sang.

By the end of the song, Faith was tugging on his hands, insisting he dance with her. And Claire was still howling with laughter.

Those three-and-a-half minutes would burn themselves into Jamie’s permanent memory, never to be forgotten or replaced.

“Alright, alright,” Jamie said at the end, trying to stop Claire from fully falling over. “I’ll stop before ye die of secondhand embarrassment.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just…” she wheezed, wiping her eyes again. “I had no idea you knew all the words…”

“Jen’s favorite movie. Warrior woman and all that,” he explained. “Plus Mam was a big Donny fan.”

She shook her head, finally calming herself down. “Well, you did splendidly.”

“Aye, sure I did.”

But he was apparently not done yet.

The entire rest of the hour the lasagna was baking, Faith did not let Jamie sit down. He didn’t know the words to every song, especially not the newer ones, but he didn’t do too poorly if he said so himself. The bairn seemed happy enough.

At some point in the proceedings, Faith took the phone in her hands and scrolled through the songs on the playlist, the corner of her tongue sticking out between pursed lips. Jamie waited patiently to see what she wanted to play next. She usually let the music play in whatever order shuffle chose, but sometimes she wanted to repeat a particular favorite. A gentle, lilting intro began, and Faith gave Claire the phone instead of putting it on the counter. Jamie was able to place the song when the lyrics began discussing the hundred-acre wood, and Faith approached him with eager hands.

“D’ye want to dance?”

Before he could even begin swaying her arms, she started yanking on his hands, pulling him out of the kitchen. Jamie looked up to Claire for an explanation, and she was already standing up, a knowing smile on her face.

“She wants to show you something.”

Jamie allowed her to lead them both through the living room and into Faith’s room. She let go of his hands when she opened the door, and she scampered right over to the giant yellow bear that was exactly where Jamie had left it on Saturday night, right next to her bed. She giggled as she threw her arms around it’s neck, barely having to crouch in order to do so.

Something had changed, though: it was now wearing a red shirt.

Jamie felt a lopsided grin melt into his features, and he turned around to see Claire holding up the phone as the Winnie the Pooh theme song continued.

“It was the first thing she did when she woke up to see it there,” she said. “I took a picture to send you, but I figured she’d want to show you, and you’d rather be surprised.”

“Would ye look at that,” Jamie said, walking over to Faith and her bear and crouching down beside them. “It would appear I didna bring home any ordinary bear from the carnival. It was Pooh Bear all along, aye?” Jamie poked his squishy tummy, and Faith giggled.

“I didn’t even think of that when I told you to ask for the yellow one,” Claire said, joining them by sitting on Faith’s bed. “She woke up, freaked out to see it, and then ran right to her dresser to pull out one of her red shirts. She turned it inside out so you can’t see the print, because then it wouldn’t be plain red like Pooh’s. She made me cut the tag off the back, too.”

“Ye’re a clever lass, a leannan.” He signed smart. “Smart girl, Faith.”

Faith swayed with her giant Pooh Bear, and then took Claire’s phone back from her again to restart the song.

“What does that mean?” Claire asked.

“Leannan?” Jamie said, sitting back on the floor and leaning on the bed. “Means my darling, sweetheart. That sort of thing.”

He felt fingers thread through his hair, and eagerly leaned into her touch.

“That’s…very sweet, Jamie.”

He took one of her hands and kissed it, holding it against his cheek as she continued to play with his hair.

“You said it at her birthday,” Claire said thoughtfully. “And a little before that, too.”

“Aye, well…she was my little darling long before I had the guts to tell ye.”

He heard her shifting behind him, and then she was on the ground beside him, nuzzling into him and kissing his cheek.

“I am one lucky lass,” she said softly. “And so is Faith.”

For the rest of the baking time, Faith gradually lost interest in dancing, and she began puttering around her room. She pulled out toys to hand to Jamie and Claire, she sat at her little table and colored, she sat cross-legged on the floor with one of her little toys that lit up and made sounds, this one in the shape of a guitar, playing the same sound over and over before switching to the next. When the timer went off, she was out of her room like a shot, leaving Jamie and Claire to scramble after her lest she try and open the oven, Claire crying “wait for Mummy!” after her.

By the time they got there, the timer had stopped, and Jamie had to hide his grin to see that Faith had dragged over a chair to reach the microwave to stop the timer herself.

“No climbing, Faith!” Claire scolded. “Get down at once, and put the chair back.”

Faith obeyed with clomping feet.

“If you want to push the buttons, you ask Mummy or Jamie for help. Do you understand?”

Claire put on a timer for a few seconds just so it would go off again. “Come here,” she said, picking up Faith and holding her up to the microwave. “See? Mummy can lift you, no climbing. Press the button. There. Good girl.” She walked a safe distance away from the oven. “Jamie is going to take the lasagna out of the oven now. Almost time for dinner, lovie.”

Jamie set it to cool on a hot plate, and then enlisted Faith’s help to set the table while Claire prepared the scooper and water for Angus’s dinner. By the time all of that was settled, and Faith fed Angus, Claire was cutting up the lasagna.

“I can already tell you it smells better than the microwave one,” she said over her shoulder.

“Aye. That it does, Sassenach.”

“You’re going to have her spoiled,” Claire said, putting Faith’s plate in front of her. “She’ll never eat my microwave cooking again.”

“Och, would be a shame if I’d have to come over just to cook fer the lass every night.” Claire paused to raise a brow at him, and he smirked and winked. She rolled her eyes with a giggle as she returned to the counter to serve Jamie, and then herself.

The meal was quite delicious, if Jamie did say so himself. He’d always been a moderately good cook; at least he was always satisfied with what he made, living alone and all. But to see Claire enjoying it so thoroughly, and Faith devouring it without a thought, was satisfying beyond words.

Faith’s dessert of choice hadn’t been Oreos as Jamie had thought it would be. The last time he was here had been during the winter, so it would only make sense that now Faith would request ice cream regularly.

“I hope you like chocolate,” Claire said, retrieving the tub from the freezer. “It’s the only flavor she’ll touch.”

“Of course I like chocolate,” Jamie said with feigned offense that she would even need to ask such a question.

“Just making sure! Here lovie, sit down.” Faith took the bowl and spoon handed to her and got back into her chair. Claire sat down with her own bowl and handed Jamie his. Claire took the longest to eat, being that she constantly had to stop to wipe Faith’s mouth or the table from her dripping. Claire had to raise her voice to stop Faith from digging through her movies without washing her hands clean of sticky ice cream, and then eventually had to hold her hands still under the running water in the kitchen while the lass squirmed and moaned in protest.

Claire sighed as Faith finally escaped the kitchen, clean as she was going to get. Jamie chuckled as he stood to help her clean up. Claire bent to retrieve a container to give Jamie some lasagna to take home, but he waved her off.

“Keep it all, Sassenach. Save ye some trouble later.”

She tried to protest, but Jamie wasn’t having it. She relented and put the entire covered dish in the fridge.

“Did you mean it? You’d come over to cook again? Not every night, I mean,” she added quickly. “I just mean…well…I’m a terrible cook. And Faith had fun tonight.”

“Ye can say it, Sassenach. Ye like my cooking.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“Well! Yes! It was very good!”

“And ye can say that ye enjoy a home cooked meal. Since ye never get to have such a thing.”

“Well…yes…I suppose.”

“And I can say that I enjoy cooking for ye, lass.” He pushed himself off the counter and crossed to the fridge to take her in his arms. “Does my heart good to give ye something nice after a long day. I ken ye dinna get that much.”

Claire hummed sweetly, then kissed him lightly. “You’re too good to me.”

“Ye deserve it, mo nighean donn.”

Before Jamie could kiss her back, the pitter-patter of Faith’s bare feet reentered the kitchen. They separated just a bit, but remained in each other’s embrace. Faith patted Claire’s thigh and reached up with a DVD box in hand.

“Ah! Tangled, tonight!” Claire held the box up to show Jamie. “Have you seen this one?”

“I havena actually,” Jamie said. “It came out before Jenny had any of her bairns, and I dinna exactly know any other wee lasses or laddies.”

“Ah, I see,” Claire said. “Well, you’ll love it. I know I do; it’s very funny. It came out the year Faith was born. Right, darling?”

In response, Faith tugged on her hands, and the adults followed her into the living room. It was familiar for Jamie, sitting in this living room in the fading light with the tellie flashing. Faith was wedged between he and Claire, just like last time; Claire held onto his hand the whole movie, just like last time; they laughed and swayed together, and Faith hummed the melody of the songs, just like last time. The scene in the tavern had Jamie wiping his eyes from tears of laughter, and the rousing love duet in the boat had his heart swelling and his hand squeezing Claire’s, bringing it to his lips and kissing it behind Faith’s head.

Christ, am I glad we see the light.

The ending had him tearing up again, even though he knew Eugene couldn't really be dead. He still cried every time he watched Beauty and the Beast, even knowing that the Beast would be fine soon, so of course this movie couldn't be any different. He could feel Claire’s eyes on him, inwardly chuckling at him in this emotional state. When the movie ended, Faith jumped up to dance to the ending-credits-music, and Claire scooted into Jamie, sitting on her hip with her legs curled next to her.

“Alright there, Soldier?” she asked, kissing his cheek. “Relieved that everything turned out alright?”

“Och, leave me be.” He lightly swatted her arse, but then tenderly kissed the top of her head. “Ye were right, I enjoyed it. Dare I say I like it better than Frozen.”

Claire pushed herself off of him and looked at him, gravely serious. “That is a heavy statement in this home.”

He laughed. “Oh, aye, dinna tell Faith I said so.”

Upon hearing her name, Faith momentarily paused her dancing to look at them. Jamie laughed sheepishly and waved at her, and she waved back, blissfully unaware, before resuming her dancing. Jamie and Claire shared another loud laugh that ended with their lips together.

After the music ended, Faith ejected the DVD and put it away. She scrambled onto the couch to plant herself in Claire’s lap, wedging her little body between the adults. They both chuckled, and Claire squeezed her daughter, kissing her head.

“You like watching movies with Jamie, don’t you?” she said. “Was that fun? Yes?”

Faith was smiling absently as Claire rocked her, playing with Jamie’s fingers in her small hands.

“You…don’t have to leave, you know,” Claire said hesitantly. “You can hang around while we get through bedtime routine, and then I can join you right back on the couch for another movie. I’ve got drinks, too. If you want.”

Faith began rhythmically patting the back of Jamie’s hand, and he felt warmth spreading from head to toe.

“Aye. That sounds great, Sassenach.”

Her nervousness melted away, and she broke into a wide grin. “Okay. Just wait here while I get her settled. Should only be twenty minutes.” Jamie nodded. “Faithie, say goodnight to Jamie. It’s time for bed. Say goodnight.”

Faith patted his cheek and then slid off of Claire’s lap, tugging on her hand.

“Goodnight, Faith. Sweet dreams,” Jamie said, and the lass waved over her shoulder as she pulled Claire into the bathroom.

He stretched out on the couch, contentment filling him to the brim as he listened to Claire coax Faith into swallowing her medicine, then talk through their teeth brushing routine.

“Open wide, Faith. Let me get the back— I said open…”

“Now rinse and spit, lovie. Rinse and spit. Good girl.”

It was so domestic, so normal. And yet it was music to his ears.

He heard them shuffle from the bathroom to Faith’s bedroom, and Claire called Angus. He shot up off the floor where Jamie had been occasionally reaching down to pet him, and he trotted into Faith’s room. A few minutes later, Claire returned to the living room and leaned over the back of the couch.

“Alright. She’s not asleep just yet, but she will be soon. She sleeps much better now that we have Angus.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jamie said. “What’s this about drinks, then?”

“Come on.” She grabbed his hands and he hoisted off the couch, following her into the kitchen. “Faith can’t reach this, not even with a chair,” she said, indicating the cabinet above the microwave. Claire reached up on her toes to stretch into the cabinet, sighing triumphantly when she emerged with the bottle.

“This is what we call big-girl-juice,” she said, smiling crookedly, waving the bottle around. “Though you don’t seem like a red-wine kind of lad.”

“I’ll drink whatever ye give me, Sassenach.”

“Good. Because I also have…” She stretched back up, and the bottom of her shirt inched up, exposing the smooth expanse of her back. He could focus on nothing else until he heard her sigh, and the shirt slid back into place. His eyes flicked back to her beaming face, slightly flushed with exertion.

“This!” she finished, holding up a bottle of whisky.

“Ye didna trouble yerself to get that fer me,” he said, though he couldn’t help but smile.

“No trouble at all. I just had a feeling when I was out buying the wine, so I grabbed this, too. Mostly for you, but I drink it too.”

He chuckled, closing the space between them and kissing her softly, cupping her waist with one hand. He laughed again, breathing it into her mouth.

“What?” she said coyly, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Jest imagining what ye’ll taste like after a drink,” he mused, snaking both arms around her waist. “Fruity, sweet, tangy, the crisp alcohol taste, of course.” He gave her a small peck. “Sticky, perhaps?” He flicked his tongue briefly over her bottom lip, and she squealed, swatting at his shoulder.

“Oh, enough,” she giggled, squirming out of his grasp. “I need to get us some glasses, unless you prefer to drink out of the bottle.”

“D’ye take me fer a heathen?” he said, aghast.

“What? I’ve had plenty a wine-night with Gi where we just pass the bottle back and forth. Glasses can be overrated.”

“Good whisky should be savored, treated wi’ respect.”

She shot him a look from the cabinet as she pulled out the glasses. “You’re serious?”

“Aye, I am.” He nodded.

She sputtered with laughter again as she put the glasses on the counter. “You really are a Scot.”

“Ye doubted me, then?” He arched an eyebrow, coming up behind her as she uncorked the wine bottle, snaking his arms under hers and clasping his hands over her stomach, bending to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Of course not,” she said with a laugh. “You’d have to be one hell of an actor to fake a dialect that authentic.”

“Ye say that as if I couldna be a hell of an actor.” He pressed a kiss to her jawline, and she gave him the most attractive side-eye he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I’d have to say you couldn’t.” She turned her head and closed her eyes, pursing her lips adorably, waiting for him to kiss her. And who was he to deny her? He obliged, kissing her slowly and sweetly, his heart straining as he felt her smile against his lips.

“I can always see right through you,” she finished, a devilish glint in her eye. He went to kiss her again, but she turned her head, and his lips landed on her temple instead. She giggled, and the sound made his stomach flip. She took the uncorked wine bottle in one hand and her glass in the other, and Jamie grinned. He unwound his arms from around her waist, circling around her shoulders instead, then closed his hands around hers.

“Allow me, Milady.” She slid her hands away, resting them on the countertop as he poured the deep red liquid, keeping his lips buried in her curls all the while. Wine glass full, he moved to the whisky bottle, opening it and pouring his own glass, keeping her pressed against him. She innocently wiggled against him, just a bit, and his hands jerked, causing a small splash of whisky to land on the counter.

He didn’t think she realized, not at first anyway. But now, there was no way she didn’t.

He was hard as rock with her bonny round arse wedged right against him.

——

Claire immediately felt liquid heat rushing to her stomach as soon as she felt it. She felt paralyzed, completely unaware of what she should do.

Her mind immediately went to the incident in the car, how she’d almost ruined the entire evening. She could tell easily enough that he was not the type of guy to put out on the first date, and she’d been painfully ashamed when she’d pushed that boundary too far and crossed a line.

Did this even count as a second date? They’d just finished watching a princess movie with her five year old daughter, who was now asleep right off the living room.

His whisky was poured, and he managed to close the bottle with surprising ease given the state she knew he was in. She knew she should just ignore it, not embarrass him further…but God, the urge to rub her arse up and down over it, just to hear him groan, maybe even grab her hips…

Thank God she didn’t have any more time to contemplate that, as he left her side to grab a paper towel to clean the little spill.

“Sorry ’bout that,” he said, quickly swiping at the counter.

“Oh, it’s fine. You’ve no idea how many spills these counters have seen.” She forced a small laugh, and he chuckled as well. After tossing the paper towel in the bin, he returned to pick up his glass, and he smirked down at her.

“Slaínte,” he said, clinking his glass into hers.

“Cheers.”

They took a small sip, and then Claire snatched her wine bottle off the counter and made her way out of the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder to catch him staring at her arse, and she blushed from head to toe. He cleared his throat before grabbing the rest of the whisky and following after her.

Claire put her glass and the bottle on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch with a contented sigh. “So, what’ll it be tonight, then?”

“I figured I’d let you choose,” Jamie said, sitting down beside her. “Since it’s your home and all. If ye’re ever at my place, we’ll pick my favorite princess.”

Claire guffawed and swatted at his arm. “We are not watching another princess movie, thank you very much.”

“A right shame,” Jamie said, smirking behind his glass.

Claire rolled her eyes, flicking on the tellie with the remote. “I’m terrible at making decisions. What are you in the mood for?”

She couldn’t stop herself from flicking her eyes downward to his lap.

Well…I know what he’s in the mood for.

“Ye have Hulu?” Jamie said excitedly. “I’ve only got Netflix and I’ve seen just about everything on there. Though I wouldna mind watching something again if ye havena seen it.”

“No, that’s okay. Peruse Hulu all you want.” She opened the application and handed him the remote, taking another sip of her wine.

Jamie scrolled for a while through various titles that either one or both of them had seen. He stopped, though, tensing with excitement.

“Ah! I haven’t seen this one in ages,” he laughed. He was stopped on The Godfather. “A classic.”

Claire cringed a bit. “How many brownie points do I lose if I tell you I’ve never seen it…?”

“Never seen The Godfather?” Jamie was aghast. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece, Sassenach!���

“Well, I’m sorry! If I’d known you were such a serious film critic I’d have brushed up on the classics!”

“Ye ken we have to watch it now, don’t ye?” He raised a brow at her, remote poised to hit play.

“Go ahead! I’d love to finally know what all the fuss is about.”

“Fuss!” he said haughtily, hitting play and putting the remote on the coffee table. “It’s certainly worth the high praise. The first one at least. The rest leave much to be desired.”

“How many are there?”

“Three. I willna subject ye to the rest.”

“Well, what if I want to be subjected to it?” She scooted a bit closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. “Needing to watch sequels is an excellent excuse to see somebody again.”

“Ye need excuses, then?” He was feigning shock and offense, but Claire could hear the soft, endearing undertones as the trumpet theme began, the lone chair occupying the screen.

“Hm. Perhaps.” She snuggled in tighter, and he draped his arm around her, then she placed a kiss on his pectoral.

He made one of those Scottish noises of his, but he kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

“Much easier to cuddle without a child sitting between us,” Claire remarked with a smile, and Jamie chuckled softly.

“Aye, that it is. Though having the bairn between us is special for its own reason.”

That warmed Claire from head to toe.

The wedding sequence began, and the both of them began steadily intaking their respective drinks. Claire remarked that she’d love to go to an Italian wedding, and then Jamie held her at arms length to quirk his brow at her.

“No’ one filled wi’ mobsters, I should hope?”

“Not all Italians are mobsters, you bloody Scot!” She swatted at him again, but was laughing heartily. “I know quite a few Italians — ”

“Aye, we’re on Long Island — ”

“And none of them are in the Mafia.”

“Never seen a Scottish wedding, then?”

“No, I actually haven’t.”

“I think it could rival this. And no mobsters necessary.”

“Oh, stop that!”

They fell into more laughter and more drink, and they were both already refilling their glasses before Marlon Brando even stepped on the scene. When the scene inside began, Jamie leaned forward excitedly, and Claire almost teased that he looked like Faith watching Frozen. When the Godfather himself said his iconic line, Jamie felt compelled to repeat it:

“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” he garbled, and Claire immediately doubled over in howling hysterics.

“That’s horrible!” Claire wheezed.

“Och, come on, now!” he said, his face bright red. “Da always said I got it spot on!”

That sent her howling again, and before long she was laying with her head in his lap, tears of laughter leaking out of her eyes.

“Your father has never lived outside of Scotland has he?”

“Well…no…”

“Oh, God…” She wiped her eyes, and then looked up at him from his lap. “Do it again! Please?”

“After the brutal treatment I just received? No chance.” He pointedly looked away from her, staring at the tellie. “You’re missing important stuff, ye ken.”

“Oh, come on…” Claire sat up, getting on her knees on the cushion. “I’m sorry, darling…I take it all back.”

He took a sip of his whisky, his face remaining stoic aside from a small twitch of his brow.

“Jamie…” Claire whined, putting her chin on his shoulder and pouting her lips right against his jaw. “I’m sorry for teasing…You make a smolderingly handsome mobster.”

She kissed his cheek, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Do I?”

“Mhm.” She kissed his cheek again and threaded her arms around his neck. “With a silly voice.”

Before she could even blink, Jamie ducked his head and seized her around the waist, pulling her off of him and pinning her into the cushions. She squealed loudly, and he put a finger over her lips.

“Dinna wake the bairn, lass.”

She glowered up at him, feeling a blush creep all the way down her chest, more heat gathering in the pit of her stomach. Before she could do anything about it, he was leaning down himself to press their lips together, and Claire sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of being pressed into the couch cushion far too much. He pulled away by dragging his teeth against her bottom lip, causing another squeak. He then sat straight up and turned his attention back to the screen, taking another sip of whisky.

“You bloody tease…” Claire sat up, shaking her head and downing the rest of her wine.

“You started it.”

She snorted. “Who’s the bairn now, hm?”

“Mm…I like hearing ye say Scots words.”

“Do you?” She batted her lashes at him as she poured more wine.

“Aye…in yer silly Sassenach voice.” He flashed her a wicked side eye, and despite herself, her stomach flipped.

“What other Scot words do you want to hear, hm?” She inched closer on her knees.

“I’m trying to watch the movie.”

As usual, she could see right through him; could see how he was flushed red down to his chest, how his brow was sweating, and how the bulge in his pants had gotten all the larger.

“Mm…” She put her wine glass down, and then plucked his whisky out of his hands as well. “I’m…enjoying it so far.”

He quirked a brow at her. “The movie?”

She licked her lips and moved in closer. “Sure.”

She had no idea what was prompting her to be so bold — probably the wine. Had she not just finished telling herself that she’d crossed a boundary on their last date, and that it would be wrong to even come close to doing so again?

But then Jamie exhaled loudly, and she could swear it was a growl.

And she completely lost her senses.

She resumed her former position, arms around his neck and face buried in his shoulder, and began kissing his neck and jaw, humming softly as she did. He growled again, much more obvious this time, then captured her face with his hands and kissed her, hard. She groaned immediately at the contact, plunging her tongue between his lips right away.

“Christ…” Jamie breathed out, before plunging his tongue in her mouth as well. They remained in this position for a while, Claire on her knees and Jamie awkwardly twisting his torso to reach her properly, until Jamie’s hands wandered lower and lower to try and find that arse that she knew he was admiring earlier.

Well, she knew of one position for him to hold it easier.

She pushed his shoulders back and straddled him on her knees, and Jamie groaned again when he could finally properly squeeze that soft flesh that he so desperately needed in his hands.

“You like that, don’t you?” Claire teased, running her own hands up and down the rippling muscles of his chest.

“Christ, Sassenach…” he gasped against her mouth. “Ye’ve the roundest arse I’ve ever seen.”

Just those words had her moaning again, and she sealed her lips to his once more as he squeezed and pressed and released. He occasionally ran his hands up her back, grasped her shoulders from behind, even tugged on her hair, but they always found their way back to her arse. The more he pressed on it, the more he was pressing her heat into his rock solid erection.

She didn’t mean to start rocking against him. She really didn’t. But then his lips latched onto that spot on her neck, just as his cock pressed right where she needed it. And she couldn’t help it.

She cried out and started moving, and he sighed with what she could only perceive as relief.

It’s different this time. We’re not in the car, it’s not the first date.

“Fuck…” she groaned, gritting her teeth as his hands moved from her soft flesh to the sides of her hips so he could help control the pace.

He wants this.

She ground down harder, undulating her hips erratically, their mouths clashing messily. Jamie muttered something unintelligible, perhaps in Gaelic, and he arched up into her, pushing and pulling her hips at a faster pace.

His hands suddenly left her hips and she cried out as they gripped both of her breasts just as firmly as they’d been gripping her arse. She braced her hands on the back of the couch behind his head, throwing her own head back as Jamie pushed her breasts together and apart, buried his face in them, dipped his tongue between them.

“God, Jamie…I’m going to come like this…”

The question was…did she want to?

His hands moved back to her hips, and she threw her arms around his neck, locking their lips together again.

It would be so easy…just a little faster, a few small circles of her hips…

But she could have him. He seemed eager enough. And God…did she want him.

It’s different. We’re not in the car. My bedroom is right there.

“Will you…” Claire panted, unable to stop herself from kissing him again before finishing her sentence. “Do you want to…”

She cut herself off again, inhaling sharply through her nose as their tongues clashed, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Claire…” he groaned out, and the sound of her name coming out of him like that was enough to send her hips pumping harder. His grip on her hips tightened almost painfully, and she moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Claire,” he said again, and she suddenly couldn’t move her hips anymore. He was holding her…stopping her.

Oh.

Breathless, Claire stopped fighting against his grip and tried to focus her bleary vision on his face. Her hands slid from his neck to rest on his shoulders, and she wet her swollen lips nervously.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie stammered, his face red and hot. “I should've stopped ye sooner…I’m…It’s no’ that I dinna want to. Please dinna think that.”

Her word processing was admittedly quite slow at the moment — arousal and now confusion closing her mind — so it took her a while to actually register what he was saying.

“It’s jest that…” He went on before her fevered brain could catch up, and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jamie,” Claire said quickly, feeling his discomfort, and wanting to bury herself alive yet again. She chuckled uncomfortably, then awkwardly slid off his lap, sitting beside him. She could not help but feel some sort of loss at no longer having him pressed against her.

“It’s…been a while. Since I’ve felt…this way,” Claire continued, avoiding his eyes. “I just got…excited.”

“Dinna be sorry fer it,” Jamie said, taking her chin in his fingers and forcing her to look at him. “Please. Don’t.” As if to prove to her that he was alright, he closed the small distance to kiss her sweetly. “Have I upset ye, Sassenach?”

“No, no, Jamie.” She took his hands in hers. “It’s alright.”

They spent a few seconds in uncomfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder, fingers laced together, both of their eyes fixed on the colorful images on the television that were largely going ignored.

“I, uh. Haven’t. Since Frank,” Claire said, finally breaking the silence. “So it’s been a while for me.”

She cringed even as she said it, feeling like a teenager and an old maid all at once. A divorcee at twenty-seven, randy as a sixteen year old and yet starved for attention as an old widow. The man beside her was a young bachelor, handsome as all hell, and childless to boot. She cringed even harder to think of all the women he’d had while she was crying herself to sleep after cutting her ex-husband out of yet another photograph, an ex-husband that hadn’t even touched her for years before they finally cut the cord.

She heard Jamie swallow, and she tensed, anticipating hearing that he’d gotten some just last month.

“I…haven’t.”

Her brow furrowed. It had been a while for him, too? Had he really not seen anyone in the time they’d met? Were his feelings that strong all along?

“Ever.”

Claire felt like she’d been smacked in the face.

“You…you’re…” She looked up at him for the first time in several minutes.

“A virgin. Aye.” He was redder in the face than he’d been when she was straddling him.

Claire must have looked as gobsmacked as she felt, because he actually laughed.

“Does that surprise ye, Sassenach?”

“Well…it’s not that there’s anything wrong with it…” she stammered, studying the lines of his face, feeling his arm muscle against her, only one word echoing in her mind:

How?

“You’re just…” She exhaled, flustered. “You’re…you’re a young man…” She had to give a conscious effort to not say out loud that he was a fucking Adonis.

“And quite…attractive.”

He laughed again, blushing deeply.

“Think so?” He smirked at her.

She chuckled nervously. “Well, of course, but I don’t think I’m biased…what I mean is…it can't just be me.” She ran her thumb back and forth over his knuckles, almost subconsciously.

“I ken yer meaning, Sassenach,” he said sheepishly. “There were lasses with…interest, I suppose. But I ne’er felt right doing it unless she was my girlfriend. Didna matter what the lass thought, I jest couldna get past thinking I’d be dishonoring her. Jest the way I am.”

His face was impossibly more red than it had been before, and it made Claire’s heart feel strained. She could tell that he was embarrassed, that he felt like he should have some sort of explanation for why he was the way that he was.

“I think that’s very sweet, Jamie,” Claire assured him, threading her fingers in his curls and caressing his head.

“Ye dinna find me any less manly?” He was teasing, but she heard the underlying insecurity, his need to be reassured.

“Of course not,” Claire said, kissing him gently, massaging his scalp. “It’s part of what makes you you. And I quite like you. Very much.”

“And thank Heaven fer that,” he chuckled, giving her another light peck.

“So you…” Claire thought perhaps she should put a cork in it, but she was too curious, too eager to know what made him tick. “You didn't want to outside of a relationship. So you’ve never…”

“I’ve had girlfriends, Sassenach, if that’s what ye’re getting at,” he said casually. “I would wait until it felt right, and either we didn’t last that long, or it never felt right. That’s all.”

Claire nodded in understanding. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Dinna thank me. I’m only telling ye to spare my pride,” he joked. “Had to let ye know there was a reason, lest ye think I was some sort of prude.”

“Well, I do know that isn’t true, at least,” she teased, tracing her finger down the length of his arm and onto his hip bone. “But even if you were, I wouldn’t judge you at all. Though I can’t say I’m not glad.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a glint of something she couldn’t name in his eye. “Couldna keep chaste around me, Sassenach?”

“I could, if you really felt strongly about it. It would just be…” She bit her lip, feeling herself blushing again. “Very difficult.”

“Aye, I ken what ye mean.” He tightened his grip on her, pulling her into his side. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, then rested her head on his shoulder. “Ye’re irresistible, mo ghraidh.”

That sent an electric shiver through Claire from head to toe.

“So, ye see, it’s no’ that I dinna want ye, Claire. Because I do. I verra…” She felt his throat muscles swallowing against the crown of her head. “I verra much do. And it’s no’ even that it doesna feel right. You…this feels more right than anything ever has.”

It was Claire’s turn to swallow thickly, anxiety clawing at her throat as he pressed a fervent kiss to the crown of her head.

He is so sure.

“I jest…I want it to be right, is all. I want tae honor ye the way ye deserve."

"Suppose my frantic clawing at you on the couch doesn't exactly create the perfect moment."

"It's alright, Claire," he insisted again, squeezing her shoulder. "I did...enjoy that."

She smirked against his neck, pressing a dangerous kiss there. "I could tell."

He made one of his Scottish noises, decidedly an amused one.

"I agree," Claire said. "That we should wait, I mean. I didn't realize...about you. And I think I need to, as well. For different reasons."

She'd been so wanton, so desperate to be physically closer to him, so frantic to forgo words and use her mouth to claim him rather than to open up to him, that she'd nearly ruined their first time. His first time, ever.

"I tend to..." Claire began, feeling the need to explain herself. "Avoid words, sometimes...a lot. I'm not as eloquent as you are. My body knows what to do when my brain doesn't. And that's not always a good thing.”

He gave her shoulder another squeeze, then began soothingly rubbing her upper arm. “Thank ye fer telling me that, Sassenach.”

Claire supposed that her body was ready for his, but her mind could not fully process how deeply everything ran, while Jamie had his mind more than made up about her, but he was not yet ready to give her that final piece of him.

They’d have to meet in the middle somehow.

“I trust you, Jamie.” Claire peered up at him and stroked his stubbled jawline. “It’s myself that I don’t trust quite yet. I’m trying.”

“I ken, mo ghraidh.” He kissed her head again. “It’s alright.”

“Can you…be patient with me?” She lifted her head off his shoulder so she could look into his eyes, keeping her one hand on his chin and the other on his shoulder.

Jamie smiled warmly, tenderly pushing some hair away from her face. “Of course.”

They shared a lingering, passionate kiss, and by the end, Jamie had pulled her into his lap, both legs draped over him, feet tucked between the cushion and the arm of the couch. They shimmied around a bit so they were both comfortable, Jamie nestled into the cushion and the arm, Claire’s legs curled up, and her arms draped around his neck. Heads resting together, they actually turned their attention to the television and restarted the movie they’d been ignoring.

“Is this alright?” Claire whispered, afraid of stirring something up again by sitting — however innocently — in his lap.

His massive hand moved soothingly up and down the expanse of her back.

“Aye, Sassenach. I like ye in my lap jest fine.”

[cheese-ception]

Tactus

Here I come again, with my obnoxious obsession with Latin. Tactus means touch.

Sometimes a little goes a long way, especially when it comes to fluff. Please enjoy this extremely self-indulgent reader insert, my sweet peas ♡

pairing: Leviathan (Obey Me!) x reader warnings: none word count: 1940 beta-tested on my darling @masamune-archive​ ♡ special tag: @tsubaki3192​ ♡

The room is dark, save for the lights coming out of a set of several monitors and the ever-present bioluminescence emitted by the various fish and corals in the giant tank lining the walls.

Stretching languidly, you let out a groan, back stiff from hours of sitting still, blinking away your tiredness. Your little break is almost over and you jump in your chair, the sound of the door opening giving you a little scare, before calm settles over you again upon realising it's just Levi returning from his bathroom trip.

You watch him as he does his little ritual of wiping his hands with a sanitizer, despite only just having washed them, and you smile. He is very particular with his quirks and you find it endearing.

You decide not to tell him though. After all, it's awkward enough between the two of you at times, even without him knowing.

He slinks into his seat, un-muting his headset to announce his return to the rest of the party and you follow suit, eager to get the second half of the raid started. You have always looked forward to the gaming part of your meetings the most, as it has given you something to bridge the space between the two of you. It has connected you on an almost unnervingly natural level, ever since you decided you had enough of being called a normie and invited him to a duel between your avatars in Mononoke Land. You still remember his sulky expression after you wiped the floor with him. The surprise in his face, eyebrows shooting upwards and pupils narrowing to mere dots. The way he nearly threw his controller against the wall in a moment of sheer jealousy overtaking him upon his defeat.

He was very cross with you that night, but you were glad.

Something's changed between you then and he no longer called you silly nicknames, no longer doubted you whenever you expressed interest in a new game coming out or a series to watch.

It took some time, but eventually he seemed to let down most of his walls around you, treating you like his equal in your shared passion over gaming and inviting you to play on his computer instead of being stuck with your somewhat outdated model.

He insisted it was because 'if you lagged it would slow him down and he did not want to have to carry you through the content', but the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth betrayed him and you knew he actually wanted to spend time together, without the screens separating you.

At least you wanted to believe it, since he obviously never said so himself.

You snap out of your reverie after some time, a smile still on your lips, to find Levi peering into your face.

Your character is laying dead on the floor and you fully expect to be scolded for not paying attention, till you realised everyone else has wiped too and Leviathan's expression seems to reflect worry rather than displeasure.

He is almost unsettlingly close and you hold your breath, colour rising into your cheeks at his sudden proximity. Swallowing audibly, you break the spell and he realises what has been happening, leaning back into his chair so quickly that his head bounces off of the little neck support pillow, causing him to utter a curse in a language you do not understand.

Muffling a laugh, you squeak awkwardly, dismantling the last of your dignity, shrinking into yourself, no longer caring about the game. You watch on as Leviathan's fingers fly over the keyboard in what seems like an intricate dance, typing in strings of letters that are too small for you to see from your spot.

With a click, he powers down his headphones, sliding them off to his neck, where they rest, quiet, in lieu of a necklace. He has no need for jewellery and it is so very like him to be ready to immerse himself in music or voice chat at any given time, so having them ready really is a no-brainer.

You want to chuckle at it, suppressing your voice once more, not planning to tease him about it, not wanting him to know that you found that to be cute as well.

He reaches over to your side of the desk, closing the programs running with a practised precision and you watch him, silent apprehension building up inside you when he scoots a little closer to remove your headset for you.

He seems almost hesitant and overly careful, making sure he does not touch you directly, hands shaking slightly while he tends to the process of getting you fully off-line, making no sound, save for the rustle of his clothes and the soft clicks of the items against the surface of his desk.

You wonder what has gotten into him and decide to help, reaching for the mouse to put it back into its charging station.

Your outstretched hand almost grasps at the peripheral, ready to lift it from the table, but you realise all too late that Levi seemed to have the same idea. You knuckles brush against a warm surface and you freeze, realising it is the back of his hand, already on the device you were reaching for.

He lets out a panicked gasp and you both withdraw, your fingers stroking against him in your hasty retreat, causing him to sigh.

Thankful for the dimness of your surroundings, you fling yourself backwards, cheeks aflame and heart racing.

You knew he didn't like to be touched by others, but the feeling of his skin against yours was too exhilarating to dismiss the butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

Unsure if you could meet his gaze, you let yours dart away and you wring your arms in front of yourself like a child caught in the middle of being naughty.

Silence stretches on and you brave to cast a glance at him after all, curiosity taking the best of you at last.

He stands unmoving, hand still on the desk, supporting his lean frame against it in the same position as when you touched. He resembles a marble statue, so still and so beautiful.

You choke your voice, just in time to restrain the praise that sits at the back of your mind.

There is no denying it, you love him. For all that he is, his bashfulness and embarrassment alike with the way his whole face lit up when he was showering you with details about his little obsessions, the delicate way with which he traced the spines of the countless volumes of manga filling the shelves of his room, how he always seemed taken aback by your interest in the things he liked, how his sunset-like eyes shone when he was happy. You are smitten, but you do not want to cross any boundaries, don't want to ruin the friendship you worked so hard and so long to build. He means too much to you to selfishly walk all over it just to fulfil your likely one-sided wishes.

After a solid couple of minutes of absolute stillness, Leviathan clears his throat, carding his digits through his hair as he speaks, voice so soft it nearly breaks you.

'I... I'm sorry, I did not mean to...' he stammers and your heart lurches to your throat, moved by the fact that he is the one to apologize, even though he has no real reason to.

He turns to face you, leaning against the edge of the desk in what looks like an attempt at an easygoing pose, though you can sense the discomfort he is in, watching as his fingers dig into the semi-discarded mousepad.

'I am sure you wouldn't want someone like me touching you, I was just trying to help because you seemed a little out of it. Forgive me.'

You rise from your chair to level with him, taking a small step forward to cut down some of the distance between you, not too close but hoping to offer some comfort by not turning away, knowing he likely expected you to do so.

His face is dusted by an intense blush, spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and disappearing under the collar of his hoodie. He is a sight to behold, long lashes peeking underneath a thick fringe of silky hair, head tilted slightly to the side, awaiting your reaction with a bated breath, chewing on his lower lip nervously.

'There's nothing to forgive, silly. I did not mind in the slightest,' you utter, words leaving you so suddenly that you clasp your hands over your mouth, cursing yourself for sounding so direct instead of easing him in.

'What?' he retorts, the pitch of his voice a little higher than normal, his blush somehow still growing in intensity.

You blink rapidly, covering the rest of your face, no longer able to look at him, stiffness stilling your legs before you take another step closer.

'I said I did not mind. Your touch, that is. It was nice, actually.'

Your voice comes out hoarse and so quiet that he has to convince himself he did not just imagine it while he shifts against the desk, the whole setup creaking slightly under his weight.

'Can you... say that again, I think I misheard?' he inquires, taking time to spell out each of the words with obvious disbelief.

You repeat again, a sliver of confidence seeping into your words, lending them some of the strength they were lacking before.

He stares at you, stunned, irises dilated and the air around him shivering with his aura and you wonder if you perhaps upset him after all, all too aware that his form shifts when he experiences strong emotions.

His eyes gleam in the darkness, a possessive glint bringing out their colour and you take in the sight, seeing him change into his demonic form, scales sprouting over his neck, coral-like horns adorning his head in intricate curves, his tail swaying around him before wrapping around one of his legs.

You half-expect him to pounce at you and punish you for your insolence, but his actions are staggeringly gentle and he extends his hand to you timidly, trying his best not to shy away.

'T..then do you maybe want to do it again? I also, uh... Didn't mind!' he stutters, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck, so darling and fragile, despite his altered appearance.

Time seems to move in slow motion as you nod, taking his hand in yours as if it was the most holy of all artefacts, gently sliding your fingers between his, pulling it closer to you. He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, his tail coiling around your waist in a gentle embrace and you feel him squeeze your hand softly, his digits warm against yours.

Taking the final step towards him, you snuggle against his chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like the ocean and the soda you both drank before and it's the sweetest, most soothing thing you have ever experienced.

You feel him rest his chin against the top of your head and exhale, relaxing against you carefully, not letting go of your hand for a single moment, afraid that you might. He hardly needs to worry about that though, because it's the last thing on your mind. There's no other place you would rather be than with him and you make it your quest to make him realise it, no matter how long that may take.

________ Masterlist