#and she got those cool face and hand markings

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-- -- --

The last thing Will destroys is --

The last thing Will destroys, is.

-- -- --

He picks, flowers, once. Fidgeting. 

He watches Anthracnose bloom from the cratered burns in the centres of his palms and devour the things up to the tips of their petals, leaves curling in blackened rot.

He burns them.

-- -- --

"You get quiet, sometimes."

Will faces him. Nico watches carefully, eyes blank. Will wonders if he learned that from his cautious father, from the undead that kept him company. He stares back, and prays his own eyes are ice. 

"Many do."

Nico smiles. Small, quick, fleeting. Amused. 

"Indeed."

He burns with questions. This, he cannot have learned from his father -- Will remembers a boy, dark-eyed and mischievous, wide-mouthed and non-stopping. He remembers the winter afternoon and Lee muttering to himself, scowling, about a motormouth worse than Will's. He remembers crouching by the entrance of the ampitheater, breath caught in his lungs. He remembers wild, cackling laughter, and cheering sons of thieves. 

That boy resurfaces, sometimes. 

"Are you thinking?" Nico grimaces as he says it, shrinking back; but it is too late, and Will has acknowledged him. "Of -- something, I mean. Working something out."

Will places his head on his knee. "I'm thinking," he agrees softly. "I wish I wasn't."

"How anti-intellectualist of you."

Will cracks a smile. "Yes. You've cracked my master plans -- once the rest of this foolhardy camp has succumbed to my brainwashing, I will easy control the complacent masses."

"I think I have to kill you," Nico says sagely. His eyes sparkle, like granite. "Your threat is too great."

Will tries to hide the panic in his face. He does not succeed, because Nico frowns. 

"Hey," Nico says, hand outstretched. "You --"

Will scoots back, pressing his back to his bunk. His heart thunders, his pupils shrink.

"Ha," he says, weakly. "You got me."

He turns so his forehead touches his patellae, and breathes carefully through his mouth. He stays there until Nico stops staring. 

He hides his fevered palms in between his thighs.

-- -- --

Sometimes Will thinks he was destined to die at four, in penance. He should have choked on his own disease, his own plague; but he did not, and the only thing that died in him was the sparking flame Prometheus gifted them all, blown to matted ember in the stalk of his chest. 

Instead his brothers watched his shame bubble out of his mouth, circle him in clouds of spores, and they lied for him. They clung to his bloody hands and pushed him behind them. And then they were slaughtered, as were the punished firstborns, for the crime of their knowing existence: Will, marked, stood on their shrouds and ashes. 

He smells of guilt, he thinks. Of guilt and germ and rot. He hides it, in all the antiseptic he can bathe in, in all the ethanol he can consume. But his breath still stinks of it and his lying tongue burns. He is tall, removed from those around him; they cannot see the sores in his mouth or the inflammation of his throat from years and years of choking hands. Bandages hide the bright red spots up and down his arms. Burn scars cover his blackened fingernails. 

But the tallest obelisks are swallowed by the length of their shadows. And nothing can hide from Fate, from the servants she sends to collect for her. 

Nico gets closer, and closer. His hands are cool compresses on the hidden sores on Will's skin. It is relief, as he is never felt it.

Will is afraid.

-- -- --

"Connor is cute," Will blurts, one day, catching Nico looking. He swallows, hard, and the wail of his failures -- his victims -- echo louder than the crack of his heart. "He's, uh. He's into boys, you know."

Nico snorts. "Connor is into money," he says, turning away. He meets Will's eyes with a grin. "He found out I have an infinite credit card and proposed on the spot. He wept when I turned him away."

Will fights the urge to sigh. He is unsurprised that Connor is a gold digger -- if anything he kind of respects the commitment to the bit -- but he just wishes --

He's not blind, Will. Or maybe he is and it's just that Nico is so obvious. He is always -- looking, always, when Will is standing, when he is slouching, when his hands twitch and when they are shoved into the hollow of his chest, hunched over at the campfire. Will can feel the pinprick of his gaze when he is startled into laughter and when he climbs out of the cabin in the middle of the night, gasping, and crawls onto the sun-warmed roof to face the stars. He watches and he touches, featherlight: Will's elbow, the shell of his ear, the sensitive small of his back. 

He guards, too. This one Will has noticed the most. When Will cannot find the breath to fill his lungs, or when his hands shake too badly to thread the suture needle, Nico stands like a shadow two paces ahead of him. And the whispering voices that follow Will's every stumble are glared into mute, mum terror. And the aching tired muscles of his back go lax. 

Connor is cute. 

Will wishes, with all the audacious hoping he has left, that Nico cared about that kind of thing.

-- -- --

"Will. Hey."

Will realizes, abruptly, that he has automatically leaned into Nico's gentle touch. He wrenches forward, bile rising in his throat -- if Nico is offended, he does not show it. 

But he does not move his arm. His big, sky-black eyes watch him, round and steady, until Will forces his breathing to even. 

"I have something to tell you."

The souls on Will's shoulder screech so loud he flinches.  Death! they cheer. Death! Death! D --

Nico watches him critically. "You know, I think."

"I can't," Will blurts, and hunches in on himself. "I can't, I'm not --"

"Into boys?" Nico finishes. He does a good job of hiding it. The hurt. He keeps his hand light and careful on Will's wrist, thumb brushing over the edge of his bandages, and a safe distance between them. Friendly. He has more strength than he realizes. It is only in the smallest twitch of his mouth, that it is obvious, in the watery gleam of his dark, dark eyes. 

Now, Will has -- 

He inhales, quick and short. No exhale comes after.

There is an easy escape, here. 

He cannot tell a lie. They burn him, coming up his throat, and are always shroud in smoke and warning. His father has many domains and it is the job of his heirs to reflect them: Lee had healing, and charm. Michael had the gift of the shot. Cass had prophecy, Diana poetry, Kayla her bow, Austin his music. Dozens more that Will met and loved and who died before him carried on dance, light, education. Will's father is a warm, bright man: he shines upon his children and endeavors to make them beacons among their peers, laughing, trustworthy fortune-tellers and music-makers. 

But there is more to the Sun than warmth and light. The Sun brings dry desert, and heady drought; the Sun cooks and it burns and drains a man's sanity out of his ears and onto the sizzling sands. The Sun is all-loving, and it is unforgiving. For every one hundred children there must be one to represent his father's shame, his rage, his fear; for every one hundred children one must coil the snake in which the Sun will meet His end, devoured and digesting. For every one hundred children there must be one who is marked, who is covered in rotting, rancid scales. Will has been shadding as long as he has been alive. For every hubric act of divine grace he forces he must match in decay from the bottom of his own soul. When he opens his mouth, his truth is obvious, it is evident: when he speaks, lies burn him, as they bolster the devil. Will cannot tell a lie. 

But he can nod, if someone guesses. If someone presumes his silence for contempt or his neglect for dismissal, he is not beholden to their correction. He cannot lie, but obstruction is outside of his father's domain, and he has no responsibility for it. 

Nico watches him, heartbroken. Hand still stubbornly extended, beating muscle bleeding with every pump. 

He could nod. He could say: sorry, and squeeze Nico's hand. He could take one step backwards and let his hand fall.

It would be so, so easy.

"Ton angélon," Will chokes out. His hand twitches, in Nico's hold; Nico frowns and brings up his other hand to match, squeezing until the spasms stop. "You are celestial, Nico, you are breathtaking, you're --"

Nico inhales sharply. He blinks once and his eyes open wide, brown in the gold of the sun; amber, cassiterite, quartz. The bow of his perfect lips drops, slightly, mouth in a perfect, shocked little O. Will blinks and a crown of thorns digs into his marble temples; he shakes his head and necrosis climbs up his sharp jaw.

"I ruin everything I touch," Will says, hoarse. "I destroy -- all that is innocent, all that angels breathe life into." His heated hands glow, under bands of cotton; green pulses through his eyes and his pores, and he flinches wrenching them away. "There is nothing of me worth holding, Nico."

Will is expecting nothing because he has forbidden himself from imagining it. Or, he is expecting rejection. He is expecting disgust.

He cannot say in good conscience that he is expecting offense.

"I'm going to smack the shit out of you."

He opens his squeezed shut eyes. He sees Nico's hands, first. Still gentle. And then his narrowed eyes, his sideset jaws. 

The failures resting on his shoulders are silent. 

Will stares, breathing heavy. His hands twitch. 

"You think," Nico begins, and stops himself, breathing out through pursed lips. "You think I -- care? That you've lost people?"

"It's more than that," Will says, desperately. Nico takes a step forward and all the thousands of souls on Will's head scream, at once; he flinches, shoulders aching, hollow stomach scraping against the shake of his spine. "Nico, you guide people, you shepherd them --"

"And you save them from me!"

Nico takes another stubborn step forward and Will can't turn away fast enough, he cannot duck out of his strong fingers on either side of his chin and can't pull away from his magmatic, furious eyes.

"Death is inevitable," Nico says calmly, firmly. "Some deaths cannot be prevented. I'm -- making my peace with that, Solace. I am not the plague I think I am." Will makes a low, groaning noise. Nico smiles sadly. "You are not to blame for your mistakes, either."

Will realizes, abruptly, that he will never be able to say it.

He is not sure who has designed this. It could be the shame, balling solidly in the back of his throat; it could be his many victims, coiling tightly around his neck. It could be his father's warning hand: grow out your hair, child. Keep your marked forehead to yourself.

He swallows, and pulls back. Nico lets him, dark eyes narrowed and curious, head tilted. In the Hades cabin there is nothing for him to destroy -- there are bones, and stones, and raging fires -- but the only lively thing is Nico, and he is doing a fine enough job on his own trying to wiggle under Will's stained palms, drying to swim close enough to the blood he is drowning in to choke to death on it.

Instead, he picks at the yellowed bandages. It takes time, to unroll the layers, but the cotton piles at his feet, and his forearms are bare: layered, upon unflinching burn scars, are varicella spots, EB blisters. Open, weeping sores, cracked skin and inflamed blisters. A spot, where the first drop of Lee's blood hit his skin, that is black and rotted. A patch of reddened rashing that wraps around his elbows.

Nico lurches. Will tucks his arms quickly away.

"I'm contagious," he says, softly. He ducks down and scoops up the bandages, stumbling fingers pressing them back against his skin. "I'm okay, in small doses. But loving me is -- poisonous." He always struggles to tie the last strand. He is not, for all his trying, ambidextrous, and his right hand is clumsy along the cut of his wrist. He blinks aware the moisture in his eyes and yanks on it, frustrated -- he has to leave, quickly, before he can endure the humiliation of Nico's horror, of his disgust. But if he leaves his arms uncovered than someone will -- see.

They'll see, and they'll know.

Deathdeathdeathdeath, murmur his spirits.

Will swallows. I know.

"Stop," says Nico, voice cracking and hoarse. Will squeezes his eyes shut, as his voice gets clearer. "Will, stop it."

"Please," Will begs. "Don't tell. I'm careful, I promise, I can -- I can keep it under wraps, I can control myself --"

He is surprised, again, by Nico's sob. By the balm of his cool fingers on the heel of his hands and the contained unit of his weeping.

"Those look like they hurt," Nico whispers, lump in his throat. He traces his fingers, slowly, over the criss-crossing bandages, removing them carefully. Will, stunned, lets him. He peels them all off and stands, on hand on either wrist, turned so he can inspect the scarred and infected insides. "Gods, Will, this -- you must be in agony --"

He is, he supposes. Or: he always has been. But it is quiet most mornings, and the ache is dull by evenings. The pressure of elasticized cotton is as familiar as the weight of a t-shirt.

"I can handle it," Will insists. He tugs, but Nico holds firm. "It is penance, anyway. There was none of this -- before."

Before he watched his cousin burn into the air. Before he heard his brother's back crack clean across Manhattan. Before he poisoned dozens of demigods, as hurting as any other, for the crime of pain and anger. Before he pieced together the fractured pieces of Lee's skull. Before the shriveled crow cawed three times, beady eyes reading the black rot of his soul.

They came one by one by one.

Slowly, Nico walks him back, until his tailbone hits his bed. He presses, gently, on his aching shoulders; Will sits, bewildered, and watches him flit away, watches him sink into the shadows and appear halfway across the room, with an armful of new bandages, first, then a tube of cream, a jar of nectar.

"Nico," he says, quietly.

"Shut up," says Nico hotly. There are still tears in his eyes, and every fifth breath shudders. "Just -- sit down and be quiet."

Will sits. The roar, even, of the dead, is only simmering; curious as he is.

Nico is gentle, when he heals.

"Drink this," he orders.

Will takes the nectar. "It won't work." He drums his fingers against the glass. "These are -- marks, Nico." He exhales. "Punishments."

Nico stares, jaw set.

Will drinks.

It tastes like cloying sweet. It always does. Like a strawberry on the wrong side of soft, like the underbrush of autumn. It does not fix the viruses who have made home in his systems -- he knows the sound of them dying -- but it does, for a moment, ease the ache.

"You're dumb," Nico says, when he has finished. His voice is short, eyes hard. "For -- the best medic in centuries, you're fucking stupid."

"Comes with the self-destructive tendencies," Will says drily. "Takes one to know one."

"That -- okay, fair. Fair. But." He tilts Will's face to meet his eyes, softening. "That means you have to listen to me, okay. I know what I am talking about." He pulls down the collar of his shirt, stretching down to his sternum. Will inhales, sharp -- where there should be skin, and muscle, there is nothing but dry, gnarled ribcage, right in the patch of space around his beating heart. Nico breathes slowly, heart slowing. He releases the shirt and Will stares through it, eyes wide.

He kneels by the edge of the bed. "I'm marked, too."

Will takes his hands when he offers. The shouts of his victims scream: death! Death! Look what you have done to him!

But the ice cool of Nico's hands reminds him: not everything is yours.

"We can be outcasts together," Nico suggests. He quirks a smile. "Something very Greek about that, I think."

A bubble of hysteric laughter escapes Will's chest. "Like -- Patroclus."

"And Achilles long after."

Nico's breath is warm against the scarred skin of his knees. He stays there, eyes soft, hands gentle around the ring of Will's wrists. He doesn't seem to mind Will's twitching, or the awful, palliative smell of him. He seems drawn to it, actually, breathing deeply.

"I'm scared," Will admits, voice small. "I don't want to hurt you."

Nico inclines his head. "I'm half-dead anyway." He squeezes gently. "You'd have to try pretty hard."

The last thing Will destroys is --

Will is going to be destroying things for a long time.

There will be other wars. Battles. There will be moments, when there is screaming, when Will's lungs coil in his chest, and smoke pours from his mouth. There will be moments when the herbs he picks wither and die in his hands.

Deathdeathdeathdeath, wail the voices.

Will inhales. The clean air settles deep in his ruined lungs, sweet and cooling.

"Try," Nico says, jaw set. "Me. Us. You -- loving, I mean."

Will nods. The pressure lifts from his throat.

"I will."

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Marked (MOC Dean x female reader)

Chapter 6 - Reverse

Mark of Dean series master list

18+. 10.7k words. Broken hearts. Depression. Guilt. Dubious consent. Lots of hurt.

“Fished you all, suckers!” Charlie exclaims, raising her hands over her head, doing a little dance despite the fact she’s sitting down. Sam smiles at her excitement while Castiel shakes his head in utter confusion.

“I don’t see what a card game has to do with any sea creatures,” he says. “Apart from the fact that you could not play this underwater. The cards would get wet. That seems highly impractical.”

Charlie throws Cas an unbelieving look while Sam scoffs, stands, collecting the empty beer bottles.

“Anyone up for another round?” he asks. Charlie does finger guns at him and even Cas nods, despite the fact that he doesn’t really get drunk. Sam turns to you when you don’t answer.

“You want another one?” he asks.

You blink, pushing your thoughts aside, then look at your bottle. You’ve barely touched it.

“I’m good,” you say, forcing a quick smile onto your face. Sam nods, then moves to the fridge.

You take a slow sip, the warm beer feeling strange in your mouth. You keep your eyes on the table because you can feel Charlie’s and Cas’ gaze on you.

“We could play something else,” Charlie suggests, voice over-the-top cheery and you look up at her. “I think I saw a pack of UNO flying around somewhere last time I was here.” You shake your head.

“It’s fine, really,” you answer but Charlie’s already standing up.

“I’m gonna see if I can find it,” she says, just as Sam’s coming back.

“Charlie, it’s fine,” he says, a slight urgency in his voice and you know exactly why. “Let’s just play another round.” Charlie widens her arms.

“You’re all just scared that I’m gonna beat your asses at UNO, too,” she says, not getting the hint. “So where is it? Don’t hide it from me, cowards.”

“It’s in Dean’s room,” you reply, looking up at her. Charlie’s arms sink down immediately, and the smile drops off her face.

“Oh,” he says, voice quiet.

“I got it for him as a birthday present last year,” you explain, feeling bad about ripping Charlie out of her attempt to make this evening somewhat enjoyable so harshly. 

You still remember it, Dean opening the small package, an amused look on his face. He watched you while you explained that it had been your favorite game as a kid, and it would give you something to do in motel rooms or on long evenings at the bunker other than drink and watch TV. Dean had one of those strange genuine moments where he hadn’t made a joke, had thanked you and said you’d have to teach him how to play it. If you hadn’t been trying to hide the blush your already intense crush on him was causing you, you might have noted how strange it was that he didn’t know the game.

You’d like to ask him about it now. How it can be that he never played it.

The thought physically hurts your heart. You want nothing more than to hear his voice, see that soft smile when he realizes something means something to you. You would give everything for it. To see it again.

Sam sits down in his chair opposite you again, handing out the beers and distracting you from your memories. You let out a slow breath.

“I’m kind of tired,” you say, not looking at any of your three friends sitting around you. “I think I’m gonna turn in.” You stand, slowly. A month ago, even last week, they would have tried to convince you to stay. Now they don’t. They’re used to you disappearing at some point, locking yourself in your room. 

As you begin walking away from the table, you don’t look back at their faces. You know exactly how they look. Forlorn, worried. Sam looks so sad sometimes that it makes you want to sob. But you don’t. Not in front of them anyway.

Your room is cool as the bunker sometimes is, and you could simply turn the heating on but it feels like too much work. Instead, you walk over to the bedside table where your phone is. Usually you don’t go anywhere without it anymore, but last night, before falling into fitful sleep, you forgot to plug in the charger. You woke up to it having turned off in the night. You panicked. What if he called and you hadn’t been awake?

Of course he didn’t call. Still, even now, there’s that moment before you wake the screen where you wonder if there will be a message. That intense hope, the possibility that everything is about to change, to be better. But there’s no new messages. You sit at the edge of the bed with a deep sigh.

As your nightly ritual dictates, you dial Dean’s number and hold the phone to your ear. It rings - and that alone, that fills you with so much hope and desperation - and you close your eyes, imagine him somewhere, seeing you calling and reaching for the phone, answering, You imagine it so intensely that you almost believe you can bend the world to your will, make him pick up.

But he never does. There’s a click, and then you hear his voice: “This is Dean’s other, other cell. So you must know what to do.” And then another click and silence.

There’s so many things you want to say. I miss you, and I love you. Please come back to me. You want to beg him to let you know he’s okay. Want him to tell you where he is, so you can come and find him.

Why did you leave me?

You don’t think you’ll forget that morning for as long as you live. Waking up, your body so burned up and tired you were hoping for death for a second. And then looking up, Dean standing there. Dean, who you had become one with the night before in a way you didn’t think was possible. And he was holding a knife.

You’d seen the way the Mark was changing him. There was no denying it, no matter how much less and less you cared. Not for a second would you have thought that its wrath would ever be turned on you. But right then, you were sure that it had.

And all you wanted was for him to know that you understood it wasn’t his fault. That you knew that he was simply losing the battle against it. Hope that maybe one day he could forgive himself.

And then he left. Left you lying there, stumbled out of the room and drove away. You sat there for a long time, unmoving, deadly quiet. Waiting for him to come back. Only he didn’t.

Eventually, you got up. Got dressed. You couldn’t find your phone, and then you realized that it was probably in the Impala, probably having dropped from your pocket when Dean laid you down on the backseat after choking you out. To protect you. He did that to protect you.

So you walked outside, and then kept walking. No goal, no idea where you were. You were lost to your thoughts, lost in your head, kept thinking over and over. How could Dean leave you? How could he?

And then, that sudden pain. A sharp stab behind your eye, like you’d eaten ice cream too fast. It lingered for a few seconds, and then it was gone.

Eventually, someone stopped their car for you. An older lady, asking you if you needed help. You lied, said your car had broken down and your phone was dead. She allowed you to use hers. 

You tried Dean’s number first. Of course you did. No answer, and that terrified you more than anything. The only other number you knew by heart was Sam’s.

You waited in a diner, hour after hour after hour. No money on you, so all you could get was tap water. Eventually, a woman working there took pity on you, bought you some fries. You wolfed them down as if you hadn’t eaten in weeks. 

Sam picked you up, half a day and a million weird stares by strangers later. You looked like you’d been beaten, abused, but the one person who asked, the woman who bought your food, you told you had been in a car accident, which, technically, you had been. Her gaze dropped to your throat, to the necklace of red bruising fingerprints, the one Eldon had given you.

“Mmh hmm,” she said, as if she knew something about you you didn’t. Eyed Sam something fierce when he finally showed up. It almost made you laugh. How ridiculous, the idea that Sam could be the cause of your injuries. How absolutely ridiculous.

Sam filled you in, on the drive back. About how Cas had shown up, had healed Charlie while Sam had figured out the spell that could undo the Mark.

“Why didn’t you wait?” you asked, looking over at him. Sam had pressed his lips together, didn’t answer. But you knew why. Because he had been scared Dean would stop him.

Neither of you heard anything from him for three days. Kept calling, texting. The only sign of life you got from him was one message. It arrived when Sam and you were calling contacts late in the evening, going through traffic surveillance. Sam is the one who got the message, not you, and even that fact hurts so much you can’t think about it. Only four words.

Don’t look for me.

Of course you and Sam didn’t stop. Neither of you had that in you. But as the days turned into weeks, the two of you realized one thing: Dean doesn’t want to be found.

You notice that you’ve been staring at the wall opposite you, the phone still raised to your head. 

“Dean…” you say, not sure what else to add. What are the magic words that will finally convince him to come back to you? There’s a beep, telling you the time to record has ended.

There’s a knock on the door and you hang up the phone, put it down.

“Yeah?” you say and then the door opens, slowly, and Castiel steps in.

He gives you a careful smile, then walks towards you, finally sitting next to you on the bed. Both of you are quiet for a minute.

“I’m not very good at card games,” he finally says and you turn your head towards him. “So I thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m okay,” you say, and it’s almost not a lie because it is so obvious that you’re not. Still, Castiel nods. You’re both going along with it.

“He just needs time,” he says, turning to you slightly but you avoid his gaze. “A human carrying the Mark, it… it must have been very difficult. Losing it again even more so.” You nod, but it’s just in the hope that Cas won’t stop hammering home the point. Dean is in pain. Dean is unwell. And he’d rather go through it alone than with you by his side.

“Yeah,” you say, just a sound to make. But Cas isn’t done.

“And the effect it likely had on you, too,” he says and you pull your shoulders up, really not wanting to have this conversation with him. You’re not even sure if he knows about the birds and the bees. “You have to be patient with yourself, your system might not be totally flushed–”

“Cas,” you say, voice small, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

“It will take a while for things to go back to normal,” he continues, and you almost laugh at that word. Normal. It’s an alien concept at this point. 

“Sure,” you say and Cas stops, looks at you again, and this time you look back, see he’s pressing his lips together. He was trying to convince himself more than you, and he just realized. You raise your hand, lay it over his, squeeze briefly.

“It’s okay,” you say, now comforting him. “You’re right, it’s all gonna work out.”

Castiel studies you for a second. He must miss Dean too, you realize. The two argued more often than they didn’t over the last months, things often nearly coming to a head between them. But he loves Dean, just like Charlie, just like Sam, just like you.

And still he’s not here.

“You wanted to rest,” Cas says, bringing you out of your thoughts. You can’t even be mad at him for wanting to excuse himself. You’re not great company right now. 

He stands, nods at you again, then turns to leave. When he reaches the door, he throws you another look and you give him a reassuring nod. With that, he leaves.

With a sigh, you lie down on the bed. Stare at the phone on your nightstand. Your eyes close and you dream.

You dream that he comes to you in the night.

It’s dark and he’s merely a silhouette, but you would recognize Dean anywhere. The breadth of his shoulders, the noises he makes even when he’s perfectly quiet, the feel of his skin on yours. 

He walks in, and you’re not sure if he opened the door or if there never was one. Either way, it’s his room now. You only live here.

He gets on the bed and you reach out towards him, but he’s so far away. Your fingertips brush over him, but you can’t grasp him. Not until he wants you to.

He climbs over you and you could cry from happiness. You can’t see his face - it stays in shadow, no matter how close you drag him towards you. But it doesn’t matter. You know his features so well.

The knife enters you at the same time as Dean does. Wetness gushes, warm and thick, but in his arms none of it matters. He thrusts and so does the knife, and you would take being stabbed a million times if it means having him close.

“I forgive you,” he says and you nod. 

“I don’t,” you say. “We have to get up.”

But Dean shakes his head. You don’t fight him. You never do.

There’s a loud knock and you roll over with a groan. The door flies open and for a moment you’re sure something bad has happened. 

“Found us a case,” Sam says, hands on narrow hips, open face looking down at you.

“Sam,” you mumble, “what the fuck. Let me sleep.” You hear him chuckle.

“You’ve slept for half a day,” he says. “Come on. Get up. We’re getting out of here.”

You make sure Sam knows how annoyed you are when he passes you the thermos filled with coffee. He’s driving so he keeps looking at the street, but you don’t take the thermos from him, stare him down until he’s forced to look at you. He does, expression curious and chuckles when he looks out the front again.

“What crept up your ass and made you so damn jovial?” you ask, finally taking the coffee from him. Sam shakes his head, still smiling.

“I just woke up and I was tired of feeling sorry for myself,” he says, then throws you a challenging look. “You should try that sometime.” Your mouth drops open. Who is this person? You can’t think of a good retort, so you pour yourself some of the coffee, blow on it, sip it.

“What’s the case?” you ask after a few minutes of quiet. Sam reaches forward, grabs some papers off the dash, passes them to you.

“We’ve got three more hours to drive,” he says, throwing you another look. “Study up.” 

You make a face which he just barely misses.

The waistline of your tights is digging into your stomach, the suit jacket is too warm and your hair is up in a way that is annoying you to no end, but worst of all of these things is needing to admit that Sam was right.

The case is distracting you.

You are talking to the roommates of the college student, Frankie, who died under mysterious circumstances - disemboweled in his room, which was locked from the inside. You’re asking them questions, watching for their responses, weird formulations, testing carefully if there might be something unusual about what happened. Damn it. You forgot you actually used to enjoy this. The study of it. Same as the research.

Sam and you walk outside when you’re done, and you look up at him just as he loosens the top button of his shirt.

“So that Brad guy…” you start, and Sam is already nodding.

“Yeah, he definitely has something to do with it,” he confirms. 

“Think it had anything to do with those magic mushrooms he gave Frankie,” you continue, just as the two of you reach the car parked outside and you turn back to Sam with a dramatic raising of your eyebrows. “The ones he claims he found? Who eats mushrooms they found? ”

Sam chuckles, agreeing, and then you turn to the side where Dean would usually be to continue the joke and he’s not there.

It’s like a punch to the chest. It’s like someone sucking all air out of the room, even though you’re standing outside. It’s like realizing you lost a limb, and it will never be reattached.

You look down quickly, hoping Sam didn’t notice. You open the door on the passenger side and when you look at him you’re pretty sure he hasn't. 

“Hold on,” Sam says and you freeze. He looks down the street, squinting against the sun. 

“Let's go for a walk,” he says. “There's a park down there I saw earlier. We've been cooped up all day.”

You don't want to go to a park. You want to crawl back into bed and marinate in your heartbreak. But you're pretty sure Sam's gonna be insufferable if you suggest that, so you decide to spare yourself the battle.

“Sure,” you say, and close the door again.

Sam and you don't speak as you walk down the street. The park is kind of small and shitty, but there are children running around, screaming and playing, there's people strolling and you can't deny that it has a sort of soothing effect on you.

“So,” Sam says, and you stop in your tracks, turn around to face him, “when are we gonna talk about all this? About Dean?”

You wrap your arms around yourself, immediately defensive, but it seems like today you can't get one over on Sam.

“I know you don't want to,” he says before you have a chance to reply, “but you have to. You can't keep carrying this on your own. And I know that if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't let me shut myself away either.” You look down.

“Sam,” you say, and this time he waits, lets you speak. You sigh. “I wouldn't even know where to begin.”

You look up at Sam again. He's looking over your head, frowning, thinking, and then his eyes land on something and a smile starts spreading on his face.

“I know just the thing,” he says. 

Sam towers over the other people standing in line at the ice cream cart. He looks out of place there, in his suit, everyone else dressed for the warming weather. When the two of you reach the front, he orders.

“Two soft serves,” he says, then turns slightly to you, eyes narrowing in thought. “One with caramel sauce and one with chocolate sprinkles.”

You shake your head a little, can’t help the distant smile sneaking onto your lips as you watch Sam pay, then take the two cones. He turns, looks over your head again, then nods. 

“Let’s go sit down,” he says.

There's a bench, a little bit off to the side and once you're sitting, Sam passes you the soft serve with the sprinkles. You take it, take a small bite. It's soft and sweet. You bite down on a sprinkle.

When you look back at Sam, he's shoveling some of the ice cream into his mouth with a tiny wooden spoon. Of course he does. He's serious even about eating soft serve.

“Do you wanna start?” he asks, only looking at you once he's finished the question. You lay your free hand in your lap, watch him.

“Is that what we do?” you ask, trying to make your voice sound sarcastic but not mean. “We go around the circle and share?”

Sam takes another spoonful, only giving a small smile in response. Not indulging your destructive words. It makes you feel a little bad about them immediately.

“I can start too,” he says, sensibly scoops up some caramel sauce that is threatening to drip off the side of his cone, before he turns to you.

“I'm… angry,” he says, nodding along a little, lips pressed together when he briefly pauses. “And I’m ashamed of myself for being angry.” You look at his face, and you see it there, the shame he's talking about.

“I know that Dean did what he thought he had to,” Sam continues. “That he got the Mark because he really thought there was no other way to kill Abaddon. But it's also… it's what he does, you know?”

He grimaces, shrugs, spoons up some more ice cream.

“Dean barrels ahead, and it's all for good reason,” he says, briefly chewing on the inside of his lip. “And it almost always leaves a bigger mess than we had originally.”

You look down at where you’re holding the ice cream and a drop of the bright red strawberry sauce is just running down on your finger. You should move your hand, wipe it away, but you simply lack the energy in that moment.

“I don’t understand why he would leave,” you say, still looking at the drop of ice cream, because it is easier than looking at Sam. “I don’t understand why he would stay away. I thought…” You take a deep breath, let it out slowly.

I thought he loved me, lingers on your tongue, but you can’t say it. Saying it out loud, in the daylight, in front of Sam, seems wrong. Dean and your love is a thing for the dark, something you whisper to each other in secret.

“I think he’s just terrified by what he did,” Sam says and you blink, look at him. He’s studying you carefully. “I think that’s why he’s staying away.”

“But we did it together,” you say. Sam presses his lips together, and he might not want to hear it, but it’s the truth.

“I know, but–” he starts, eyes going to the ground, but you interrupt him.

“I killed that Eldon guy, Sam,” you say and his eyes snap back to you. “I did that.”

“You know,” Sam says, quickly, “there’s no telling if maybe being that… exposed to the Mark couldn’t have had some kind of effect on you too. I mean, we don’t know how this stuff really works.” 

You try hard not to scoff. Sam’s just trying to be kind, trying to make room for the possibility that you weren’t acting under full capacity. And maybe you weren’t. Maybe the Mark did have an effect on you - all the times you felt feverish when Dean wasn’t around, the sudden outbursts of rage, bashing Eldon’s skull in. He deserved it, deserved every second of it but that doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it. Something you’d never thought possible before. 

“Then I’m the only one who understands him,” you say, voice small. “Why wouldn’t he want to be with me?”

It’s more vulnerability that you’ve allowed yourself in front of Sam so far. Because this is what it all boils down to in the end, what you’ve really been asking yourself - why has Dean left you? Not Sam, not Cas, not Charlie. You.

The small cone of ice scream looks even more tiny in Sam’s hand, and you stare at it. There’s voices carrying over from the park nearby and a soft breeze is blowing. It feels unreal, all of it. The sun hurts your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say, then need to swallow.

“I know,” Sam replies, and it’s too much work even to look at him. “I know.”

You look down when you hear a dripping sound - something red has dripped onto your shoe. For a second you stare at it. Wonder if you’re so soaked in blood now that it will just always be there, before you realize it’s strawberry sauce.

Sam and you make it back to the motel. There’s less of the unsaid in the air between you two and it feels good, even though you didn’t really come to a conclusion on anything.

On the drive back, you turn to him, unsure whether you will regret what you were about to say.

“You know,” you say, and Sam throws you a look, showing you he’s listening, “Dean said that you… that you wanted me. When he still had the Mark.”

Sam looks out the front, then shifts where he sits.

“Listen,” he says, voice apologetic, “no offense, but… I don’t.” You chuckle, and Sam gives you a surprised look.

“I’m actually really glad to hear that,” you say and he grins, nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re more like a really annoying little sister.”

“ Annoying? ” you ask and it’s his turn to chuckle. Both of you are quiet for a while, but you have to say what’s on your mind.

“I wonder why he said that,” you say. Sam is quiet, then clears his throat. 

“You think maybe he was trying to isolate you?” he asks, not looking at you.

His words feel like quicksilver in your veins. Dean would never try to isolate you, you know that. But the Mark? Maybe that’s a different story.

Back at the motel, both of you dive into research. Your brain feels strangely rejuvenated from the time outside but in the end, you're still no closer to figuring out who disemboweled Frankie, the victim.

“Time we pay Brad another visit,” Sam says.

It’s getting dark by the time the two of you make it back. You’re walking up to the front door when Sam raises his hand, makes you stop. The door is open, the wood splintered where someone kicked it in.

Both of you draw your guns, proceed quietly and slowly. Sam pushes open the door and you follow him. You make it a few steps into the quiet, dark hallway when you hear sounds in the other room.

Carefully, you advance. Someone is there, definitely, and Sam waves at you to go the other way around, cut off their possible escape route. You stay close to the wall, in the shadows, and when you reach the corner that leads to the kitchen, you take a slow breath, then round it, pointing your gun.

Whatever you mean to say, freeze or hands in the air or something else, doesn’t make its way up your throat. Instead, it remains in your chest, your lips parted without any sound coming out of it as you see what’s there at the end of your barrel.

Dean is just reaching for his gun too, but same as you, he completely freezes. He’s frowning, looking concentrated, and in the next second, when he realizes it’s you, his features go slack, his eyes widen. Sam rounds the corner only a few seconds later, and he too stops moving.

Dean is looking at you, something soft and lost in his face. He looks… frightened, you realize. You barely have time to take him in when he looks away, turns as he hears Sam behind him.

Sam is equally dumbfounded. He lowers his gun and for a moment, despite how broad and tall he is, he looks like a little boy when his eyes land on Dean.

Sam says his brother’s name and one corner of Dean’s mouth twitches.

“Small world,” he says, voice raspy. His voice. It feels like you’re hearing it for the first time in years. Sam is slowly shaking his head as he holsters his gun.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, unbelieving, as he steps closer to Dean. Dean puts his gun away too, turns a little to Sam.

“Guessing the same thing you two are doing,” he says, carefully throwing you another look, then quickly looking away. “On the hunt for a Rakshasa.”

“Rakshasa?” you say, and this time Dean’s glance doesn’t make it to your face. He looks in your direction and then it’s like he stops himself from going further.

“Yeah,” he says. “Turns out Brad must have invited it in for some reason, and it's been making itself at home here. Only the it got hungry, and Frankie was unlucky enough to be the only one home.” Sam blinks a few times, like it's all becoming so clear to him suddenly.

“They can make themselves invisible,” he points out and Dean nods. "That's why it looked like Frankie was alone in his locked room when he was killed." You try to tune into the conversation, but you can only listen, watch Dean. Watch him move, the way he does now, movement you know so well, have watched for years. 

“Any idea where it is now?” Sam asks, and you don't understand how he can be acting so casual at seeing Dean again. 

“Yeah,” Dean confirms, steps to the side, then points at something behind the kitchen counter. You see a hand there, splayed on the floor, and a few drops of blood.

You step forward before you think about it. Three long strides take you to the other side of the kitchen counter. 

Brad is lying there. The Rakshasa is rolled up next to him, bleeding, eyes ripped open, and Brad's not faring much better, blood and other things coming out of his mouth, his nostrils, bulging under his shirt. He’s dead, disemboweled, just like his roommate.

You feel sickness crawl up your throat quicker than it ever has before. You rush from the room, find the guest bathroom you remember from coming in and a second later, you’re bent over the toilet, puking your guts up.

It’s Dean. He’s in the next room. You almost can’t believe it, almost sure that if you walk out there, he’ll be gone, some kind of hallucination. But when you’re done gagging, you can clearly hear two voices in the next room - Sam and Dean. 

You wipe the back of your hand over your mouth, reach up and flush the toilet. There’s a soft knock on the door frame of the bathroom, since you neglected to close the door in your rush.

To say you’re disappointed that it’s Sam is an understatement. You feel a little shaky so you run your hand over your mouth again.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tone gentle and you nod immediately. 

“Yeah, just,” you say, “been a hot minute since I've seen someone's guts on the outside.” A lie. You saw lots of guts on the outside in the Styne mansion. Did some gutting yourself. Sam nods.

“Just stay here, okay?” he says. “We’ll take care of it.”

He’s gone again before you can answer. Usually, you would want to be out there, see how they do their job, learn. Be near Dean, because he might teach you something, might lean in to explain something to you. But now you smell like sick. Now you have no idea if Dean will even look at you, never mind teach you something. 

You sit down on the floor, lean your back against the tiles of the wall. There’s some dust on the floor across from you, and you stare at it while you listen to Sam and Dean move in the next room, exchanging the occasional sentence. 

You know what Sam is doing. He’s trying to act normal, trying to act like it’s not a huge deal to have Dean near again so as not to scare him away, but you saw the look on his face. The pure fucking pain and hurt and longing. He’s just good at hiding it. Unlike you. 

It’s a while before you dare to move again. You stand, your legs luckily not feeling too shaky, and then you walk over to the sink, open the cabinet over it. There’s some mouthwash and you gargle some of it along with some water. Then you step back into the hallway.

It seems your timing is perfect, because just then, both men step out of the kitchen. They’re throwing looks over their shoulder at whatever they have done, the crime scene they have fixed. Your eyes land on Dean immediately.

The three of you step outside. The air of early evening is cool and refreshing, and you take deep breaths of it through your nose.

No one speaks, for a minute. Sam looks around, pretending he’s thinking.

“Hey,” he says, addressing both you and Dean, “we haven’t had dinner, we should grab some. Dean?”

It breaks your heart to see Sam putting on his act. He was so gung ho about taking things into his own hands, and you in yours, about not letting life make decisions for you, but he’s just as thrown by his brother being here as you are. You carefully look at Dean, check his reaction.

“That’s alright, Sammy,” he answers. You see the forced lightness on Sam’s face cracking.

“You gotta eat,” he says and Dean smiles sadly, looks at the ground. He raises his hand, scratches at his stubbled jaw. 

“I think I should get back to it,” he says, to no one really, and then to your absolute horror, he starts walking across the front lawn. You don’t mean to stop him.

“Dean!” you call out, when he’s just about to start down the street - he must have parked away from the house, not in front of it, like you and Sam did. He stops, his hand on the gate and slowly turns back as you walk towards him. You stop a few feet away from him, wary of crossing that final distance.

“Are you okay?” you ask. Dean’s chewing on his tongue, but then he looks up, right at your face. You look at his in turn, this face you’ve seen make a million different expressions. You’re not sure what you see there, but you know that he’s not coming back.

He lets go of the gate and starts walking down the street without answering. You watch as he becomes smaller and smaller in the distance. You don’t feel your fingers.

Dean makes it back to his motel room at the other end of town. He opens the door, manages to put his gun on the table without submitting to the urge to shoot himself in the head, and then he sits at the edge of the bed, shaking hands pressed against his knees.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He let his guard down. How the fuck did he not know you and Sam were working the same goddamn case as him?

He leans forward, puts his face in his hands. Think, he wants to scream at himself. He should just leave. Grab as many of his things as he can pack in a minute and get on the road again. Everything he owns right now is stuff he’s bought in the last weeks. It would be easy to throw it all into the car and just disappear.

This is how he’s been doing it, the way he’s always been doing it. Pack up, leave, go wherever the next case takes him. That blip of calling the bunker his home - it’s over now, and he’s just gonna have to live with that. It’s fine. He can deal with that.

What he can’t deal with is seeing Sammy. His little brother was nearly buzzing from how hard he was trying to keep it together. Nothing new to Dean, to be the disappointment of his family, to be good for nothing but getting people worried. Sam’s probably used to it too, but that doesn’t make it better.

But you? You’re the last person he wanted to see. Well, you’re also the person he wanted to see the most. If you would have looked happy or indifferent or even angry - he’s played through each of those scenarios in his head a million times. He didn’t expect you to look so broken though.

Not that he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not that he doesn’t know that he’s probably ruined your life. He just preferred thinking you maybe hated him for it. Instead you asked him if he was okay. If he was okay 

He nearly died on that stretch of road when the Mark was ripped from him. And then he didn’t and he wished he had. When the layers and layers of protection the Mark had provided him were suddenly gone, when he looked back at the previous weeks, at the pain and the blood and at you - that’s when he wanted to die.

But Dean doesn’t have that in him. He doesn’t have the ability to give up, even though he fucking wished to the heavens then that he did. So instead, he picked himself up. Got all the essentials. And went to work.

And yet somehow he still ran into you. Maybe he can’t escape that - whatever reckoning is coming. Maybe this is the punishment he’s been running from all along. Maybe you deserve your shot. 

So Dean picks up his phone and begins typing.

Sam and you don’t talk when you make it back to the motel, nor when you go to buy some food, both only picking at it. You exchange the necessities, and then you sit in front of the TV and you don’t talk again.

All the show of optimism has gone out of Sam. He looks utterly defeated. You’re probably not faring much better. 

You say good night to each other and you turn your back to the bed Sam is in. You see the screen of your phone light up, but you’d have to extend your arm to look at it, pick it up, and that seems like too much work. So you don’t.

The next morning, Sam offers to get coffee. You’re pretty sure he just wants to be alone for a bit, so you thank him and accept. You’re brushing your teeth when you check your messages.

There’s one from Dean.

We need to talk, it says. Can you come meet me?

Then the address of his motel. You stand there, toothbrush no longer moving, just staring at the words.

You walk out of the motel room five minutes later. Sam has the car, but you don’t mind stretching your legs. As you’re walking down the street, you smooth down the dress you put on. Suddenly, you feel foolish. You wanted to look pretty. Pretty for Dean. You only brought the dress since it’s part of your standard, dress-up wardrobe. Witnesses are more likely to trust you the softer and more feminine you seem. And now you’re wearing it for Dean. Maybe hoping for the same effect.

The motel Dean is in is run down. You look for the room number he gave you, flex your hands. Then you knock.

There’s movement on the other side of the door and then it opens and you’re looking at Dean. He seems surprised to see you - maybe he didn’t expect you to actually show up.

“Hey,” he says, voice clipped. “Come in.” He opens the door wider and you enter his room.

It’s bare bones. There’s never much spreading out with how briefly you usually stay anywhere during a case, but it looks like Dean hasn’t even done that. The room seems completely untouched. Maybe that means he hasn’t brought anyone here. You blink at your own thoughts.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Dean says, sounding so formal, so wrong , that it makes you uncomfortable.

“You asked me to, so…” you answer, avoid looking at him.

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, leans his elbows on his knees, and interlocks his hands. There’s an old brown armchair across from where he’s sitting, so you sit down in that. Its seat is worn from use and you sink into it, deeper than you expect. It doesn’t make you feel particularly tough or big or strong.

“I thought we should talk,” Dean says, and you hate how he avoids looking at you. Like there’s something shameful in the air between you. You shift in your seat.

“Okay,” you reply, hoping that if your voice is shaky he won’t hear it on those two syllables.

Dean rubs his fingers over his mouth, thinking.

“What we did,” he says, still not looking at you when he corrects himself: “What I did… I’m so sorry.” He looks up, at you finally, and he really is sorry, you can see it. You run your palm over the back of the other hand, the sound of skin on skin loud in the room. 

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” you say, your voice quieter than you mean for it to be. It’s not fully the truth - there are a million things. Leaving you, not answering your calls, ignoring your messages. But you’re so willing to forgive all that, if only it means that you get him back.

“What I did to you, that wasn’t right,” Dean continues, and it’s fine, it’s okay, if he’s sorry about the last weeks then you can forgive him and move on. But then he adds: “Being with you, that was… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You feel as though someone has pulled a lever and made the floor drop away from under you. You’re hoping, praying that this must be some kind of misunderstanding.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a shuddering breath leaving you.

“What happened between us,” Dean continues, and then he finally looks at you, “our relationship . It’s, I… I took advantage of you.”

There is a fuzziness at the sides of your vision. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears.

“I don’t think—” you start, but then stop, need to swallow. “That’s not what happened.” You blink, and then Dean is really looking at you, searching out your gaze.

“Yes, it is,” he says, voice clear, and you don’t understand why he is doing this, why he is saying these things.

“No,” you simply say, and Dean exhales slowly.

“The fact that you think that,” he says slowly, “that I’ve convinced you that this is okay… it’s not. It’s wrong.” You make an involuntary sound in your throat.

“I’m almost twice your age,” Dean says, as if that means anything , as if that somehow undoes everything you’ve done together, everything he’s done for you, everything you’ve done for him. As if it somehow strikes the lies you’ve told for each other from history, the moments of ecstasy. Like they suddenly don’t mean anything anymore.

“So?” you ask, finding Dean’s gaze, and you see him clench his jaw. “I don’t care. That doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Dean replies, voice calm. You feel your lips shaking, feel like such a stupid girl, such a child .

“So what?” you ask, voice snotty with the tears building in your eyes, but you sound petulant nonetheless. “This was all just the Mark? None of it was you?” And Dean doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t leap in to say that no, actually, it was him.

“It wasn’t,” he says, “not really.”

You’re on your feet before you know it. Your entire body is shaking and there’s a pain in your chest, in your heart, that you’re sure is gonna kill you. Tears are blurring your vision, but you don’t care.

“I didn’t do this to you!” you say, voice shrill and Dean frowns at you. “I didn’t—I didn’t take advantage of you, or, or, I didn’t do anyth—” A deep sob interrupts you and your hand flies up to your face, the back of it pressing against your nose, but the tears are coming hard. You feel like you’re sliding into hysterics. Dean slowly stands, careful, as if you’re some kind of wild animal he needs to be careful in approaching.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, actually extending a hand towards you to calm you. “That is not what I—of course you didn’t take advantage of me. It’s the other way around.”

“B—but you said it was all the Mark,” you reply, voice blubbering, and part of you thinks you should be ashamed of that, but you can’t be. The sadness and hysteria in your chest feels almost ecstatic and you can’t stop it. You can’t have Dean leave you, not want you anymore. Especially not by being this nice, this soft.

“Y—you weren’t yourself, and I, I abused that,” you continue, momentarily regaining some control over your shaking and crying. “I kept coming back, and you couldn’t say no, because of the Mark.”

Dean’s hand drops, as if in slow motion, and he blinks, his eyes remaining closed for a second. He seems tired. Exhausted. His lets his shoulders hang.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, voice gentle. “Yes, the Mark… controlled me in a way, but I still should have done differently.”

“And now you’re back in control,” you say, and you feel something build in you, something that hurts more than anything else has ever hurt before. “And you don’t want me anymore.”

Dean’s eyes widen. His mouth moves, but no words come out. It hurts almost more than him saying yes. That you gave yourself to him, did all those things with him, but he can’t even be bothered to love you. That you will never get him back, no version of Dean. But then he takes a step closer to you.

“Of course I want you,” he says, green eyes focused on you. “Of course I do, but it’s not right. I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care,” you say, stepping closer to him, and you want him to understand that what you have is special, is different, it’s not what it looks like from the outside, what someone would interpret it as. You’re not some poor, groomed thing, you love him and he loves you and he has made you feel things you’ve never felt before. And not just the sex, that too, but even that, it has to mean something , right? Two bodies can’t possibly connect that well without it meaning something. The way he protected you, the way you became a team, became one, the way Dean was willing to kill for you, to do anything to protect you. No one’s ever loved you like that. How can you go back to not being loved this way? It’s impossible.

You say all that, or some of it, mumble other parts. You’re not sure if you’re making yourself understood, but Dean steps closer again. His hands land on your shoulders and you want to throw yourself at him, into his arms, just have him hold you, tell you everything’s gonna be alright in that gruff voice of his. But he looks at you, so impossibly soft, the way he can only look at you if he’s willing to let you down now.

“I can’t—“ you choke out, trying to move away, but you misjudge how hard Dean is holding on to you. You stumble a little, and he grabs you, holds you, and he’s so close, brow knotted, lips parted, and you press yourself up, lips meeting his, but barely.

Dean immediately returns the kiss, his hands shooting up to hold your face, pull you closer against him. Stars explode in your head at the absolute bliss of touching him again, of holding him.

But then Dean pulls back, and the cold rushes in again. He’s shaking his head before his lips have even stopped touching you. You notice he’s breathing heavier, and so are you. How attuned you are to each other. It can’t just mean nothing.

“No,” Dean says, swallows hard, “we can’t.” But you don’t let him continue, kiss him again, wrap your arms around him in the hope he can’t escape you. That he won’t want to.

“Dean,” you moan against his lips, still watching his face. “Please, please, I need to feel you.” Dean’s eyebrows pull together, and he looks like he’s in pain, in beautiful, blissful pain.

You let one of your hands drop, bring it to his crotch. You press against him through the jeans fabric, needy, desperate. Dean’s breath hitches and his hands wander down to your hips, fists bunching up the fabric of your dress but he doesn’t move it up, seems to just need to hold on to you.

“Stop it,” he says, but you can’t, you won’t. Instead you press your lips against Dean’s jaw, feel it tense under your touch. In response, you open your mouth, bite him there. Dean flinches, breath coming faster. Your hold your teeth clamped over the bone for a few seconds. Then you let go.

“Please,” you say, before you wrap your lips over the spot you just bit, suckle on it. Dean groans and you know he’s yours now, he has to be, he can’t leave you like this.

But then suddenly he’s pushing you back, surprisingly rough. You stumble a little and stare at him, eyes ripped open. Dean’s chest is heaving, and his face is set.

“I said no ,” he says, voice clear and loud. You feel anger and hate flare in you. It’s clear. It’s beautiful.

“You don’t get to decide this,” you say, your voice so raw it hurts your throat. You step closer to Dean and shove him, hard. He must not expect the move, because he needs to take a step back to balance himself. You push again, this time to no avail. He’s unmovable. You can’t get him to love you, and you can’t even get him to fall over. You feel so weak.

“ Fuck you!” you almost scream at him, and then you raise your fists, pummel them against Dean’s chest. “How could you do that to someone!? How could you do that to me!?” Your fists come down again but then Dean grabs your wrists, secures them in place. His face is torn between horror and grief. Disgust at his creation.

His hold on your wrists tightens, the pain making you snap out of your deliriousness and at the same time fanning the flames of your anger. Of your need. You try to rip them free, but Dean holds them fast, but you are thrashing at him in a way that disregards your own safety. Dean can hold on to you, but he can’t control you pulling your arms back and forth. You’re gonna dislocate your shoulder, he suddenly thinks, terror shooting through him. And when you do, he’ll still be holding your wrist.

So he pulls you in, brings you close to his body, turns the two of you. He needs to stop you, somehow, stop you from moving, stop you from hurting yourself. But not from hurting him , he thinks, because he deserves every fucking punch you throw at him.

He’s not sure if he pushes you down onto the bed or if you drag him or if it’s something in-between. What he knows is that suddenly, he’s falling, and he can’t stop the way his body smashes on top of yours, because he doesn’t let go of your wrists. Then you’re there under him, still thrashing, still fighting him, pushing against him, because you want to be close or because you want to get away, he’s not sure.

Dean will never forget the shame he feels in that moment, the second he notices his body responding to you under him like that. The way your neck is stretched and the way your hips are trying to buck up, only stopped by his pinning yours, sends his mind back to the night he spent buried deep inside of you, just like this. The way he became part of you in a way that made him sure the same blood ran through your veins.

But then you scream, something unintelligible, and Dean is back in the moment, back there, on that bed, where he’s pinning you down while you’re fighting him, and he’s sure for a second he’s going to be sick. He lets go immediately, begins rolling off you to the side, but to his surprise, you push against his shoulders, roll with him.

Dean brings his hands up, not sure what he’s going to do, but his own momentum allows you to roll with him, get on top of him. He’s still terrified of touching you, of grabbing you again, hurting you, so he has his hands slightly raised in front of his chest, not sure what to do with them. He doesn’t expect what happens next.

You push yourself up on your knees, one arm holding you off the mattress, the other shooting down between your legs. Dean hears the metal of his belt and it’s like the sound is coming from far away, before he understands what’s happening. His hands shoot to your legs, pushing up to touch the sweet, soft skin of your thighs and he feels all his blood leave the rest of his body. He squeezes the skin there, hard, while the tug deep in his stomach becomes as violent as a storm. He pushes your dress up far enough to see your underwear. 

He knows the pair, knows how they smell when he’s been teasing you for a while. Knows the feeling of them against the pads of his fingers. He stares at them and he can’t look away.

You are opening his jeans now, and Dean reaches one trembling hand forward, between your legs, pushes your panties to the side by hooking his index finger into the seat. You’re wet, and he could sob from that feeling, the dampness between your lips, all for him, only for him. He’s ruined you, but he’s ruined himself in the process.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, take him out, as you begin stroking him. Frantic, too fast, and it hurts but Dean moans at the pain. Let him feel it for a thousand years and still he wouldn’t have paid for what he did.

He’s hard already, but you tug at him again, one, two, three times, and then you push yourself higher, line him up. You’re not looking at him, instead you’re looking down, concentrated, and Dean wants to change that, wants to look at you, to make sure you are aware of what you’re doing, but then his tip touches you and it’s like all his senses suddenly are captured by this.

You sink down at him with an intense whimper and Dean wants to scream, wants to sob and cry from how good you feel, how perfect. He shudders for a second, the ecstasy of you almost too much, before his hands go up to cup your face again. He wants to see you, needs to see you.

But this time, your hands go around his wrists. You pin them down on the mattress next to his head, and Dean doesn’t fight you. You stare at his face, eyes wet, lips parted, strands of hair falling into your face. He’s pretty sure you’re a goddess. You must be, to subjugate him like this.

“You don’t get to touch,” you say, voice hard but clear. There might be a distant tremor in it, but Dean is willing to ignore it. “You don’t deserve it.”

And you’re right, he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve it. But then you begin moving, begin rocking back and forth on him and now it’s Dean who’s whimpering, as your wet, warm tightness begins rubbing over him. Your eyes flutter closed, your eyebrows going up a little as your face relaxes.

You begin riding him, slowly. You are concentrated, completely focused on extracting your pleasure from him. Dean’s just a body in that moment, and his chest fills with the voice of heaven at that. Maybe he can repent, after all.

You continue riding him, slowly, but somehow not gently. Every single movement is for your benefit, not his. It throws Dean back and forth between the shores of pleasure. There are some movements that make him sure he’ll burst in only a second, and some that make him want to grab your hips, dictate how you move. But your hands are still on his wrists, and while it wouldn’t be much of a battle for Dean to make you let go, it feels like metal shackles holding him down. The way they ground him, make him absolutely yours.

He starts coming closer, starts to feel the urge grow. His balls are tight and he wants nothing more than to fill you up with himself. Maybe through bodily fluids he can somehow make you understand how sorry he is. No, what is he thinking? Maybe he’s losing his mind.

But you keep moving, occasional small noises in your throat as you keep chasing your own end. So Dean holds back. He wants to flex his ass, drive up into you, pick his own rhythm rather than being victim to the unsteady, unreliable one of you. But he can’t do that. He needs to let you decide, because you’re right – he doesn’t deserve it.

After what feels like a torturous eternity, you begin picking up your pace, lips parting wider as you locate the perfect spot, perfect angle at how you want Dean to make you come. He can feel it, too – the spot he keeps hitting, the way it makes you wetter and wetter, makes him slide in easier and easier, and you are so goddamn soft.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, but he can’t come, he mustn’t come. It’s not about him. You begin tightening on him, and Dean groans as you envelop him, breathing hard, movement stuttering more and more. Dean forces his eyes open to see you, and you are shaking, mouth ripped open in a silent scream. There are tears running down your face, dropping onto his t-shirt.

You drop forward, just as it finishes, only for a moment rubbing yourself against him, then still. Dean doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare do anything to continue, even though he feels like if he doesn’t come now, he’s going to implode. He’s not sure he can hold back if you move.

You do move, then, but only to push yourself off him. He slips out of you, almost gasping, as you crawl and stumble off the bed, nearly topple when you reach the side and stand. Dean’s hand goes to his cock, torn between the handful of strokes it would take to let him finish and between covering himself, hide his shame. He presses his hand against himself, stomach twisting at the promised relief. It would be so easy so just move his hand a little more, imagine it's you.

His eyes must have fallen shut but they fly open when he hears the room door open. For a second, he panics at the thought that someone has found the two of you, has seen him like this then he looks in that direction and it's you opening the door.

So Dean has no choice but to tug himself away, groans at the feeling, and stumbles after you.

You’re walking across the parking lot in quick strides and he catches up with you in only a few steps, grabs your arm but you pull it from him immediately.

“ Don’t touch me,” you hiss and Dean raises his hands, shows you he won’t.

“I can’t let you leave like this,” he says. He sees you open your mouth to say something, but then you don’t. You stare him down, fire in your eyes and it makes Dean love you a thousand times more. Your chest is heaving and your lips are slightly parted. You look beautiful and terrifying.

“Let me call Sam,” Dean says. “To pick you up.”

He watches as you hold on to your reserve and then let it slowly slide from you. You look around once, at the parking lot, and then you nod. Both of you don’t talk as Dean leads you back to the room.

You sit in the brown armchair again while he calls Sam, don’t look at him, don’t speak. Dean leans against the wall at a distance, his entire body still feeling like he has ants crawling all over him. His erection is still painfully pulsing in his jeans.

Sam’s there ten minutes later. Dean opens the door when he knocks. He looks worried, but then he looks past Dean into the room, must see the bed, the blankets disturbed and messy, sees you, eyes down, arms crossed as you walk towards him and Sam’s expression changes. His jaw tenses and he presses his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says as you walk past him, but you ignore him, walk past Sam out of the room. Sam looks after you, then turns back to Dean.

He could probably have seen the punch coming, but right then, he doesn’t. Sam’s fist hits him square against the side of his face, and Dean’s back meets the door with a bang. His hand goes up to his jaw and he grunts, squeezes his eyes shut at the intense pain blooming in his skull. Sam meant for this one to hurt.

By the time he opens his eyes again, Sam is walking away. Dean looks after him and you for a second, then closes the door.

He stands there, hand still on the doorknob, not moving. He’s pretty sure that if such a thing is possible, he’s about to burst into a million pieces, just fall apart on a molecular level. He stands there for a few minutes and when it doesn’t happen, he moves forward, drops himself down on the bed.

He pushes his face into the bedding. Somewhere, somehow, there must be some of you, some of your smell, your presence. He takes deep, hard breaths, hoping to find it, hoping to find anything of yours. His hand slips into his jeans and he wraps it around his aching cock, tries to imagine your face.

But he can’t. As if his brain is trying to punish him, to keep any chance of peace from him, his mind refuses to settle on your image. Instead, when he closes his eyes, he sees blood. 

He finds a whiff of you, eventually. Just the tiniest bit there, he’s sure. He presses his nose into the fabric there, gives himself a few hard, rough strokes. He comes with a whimper and a sob and then he lies there.

He wishes the bed was your lap. He wishes he could curl up, make himself small, and just be held by you. By your soft hands. That’s all he wants.

Instead he lies there, in the cold bed. Somewhere someone yells, and someone honks a car, and Dean feels utterly alone. 

[itsalrightmeow]

So what if Hu Tao didn't come back from Lantern Rite totally fine?

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

[prael]

Day 11: Threats And Treats

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 4,585 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

She is furious.

She's been in your class for barely a few months, but now she gives you an ultimatum. Either you change her grade, or she'll report you for sexual harassment.

It's a threat that you laugh off.

You have no reason to be afraid. Sure, Danielle's been throwing herself at you ever since you became her teacher. She wears her skirts too short, and her tops too low, and the way she asks you to tutor her privately after school can't be entirely innocent.

But it's not as if you've done anything wrong. You have, in fact, ignored Danielle's advances.

And there's no understating just how hard that has been. She has perched herself on your desk after class and given you a view of her lacy underwear. She has worn her gym shorts to meet you, and the tight material has hugged the cheeks of her firm little ass so snugly that it makes you want to drool. Painted her lips in that deep red that you know would look perfect wrapped around your cock. She brushed up against you in the hallways with a sly little grin and pressed her soft little tits into your side.

"Danielle, get the hell out of my office."

She turns up her nose without a word and she storms off.

-

She doesn't report you. Instead, she shows up at your office an hour later.

You have a lot of other papers to grade. You've had a long week. And Danielle's attitude is making your day even harder. You are in no mood to play games with this bratty girl. You don't look up when she enters. You barely glance at her.

"I'm not changing your grade," you say dismissively as you mark another awful essay with an F and then flip it over. You wonder how Danielle would react if you gave her a failing grade instead.

Danielle is undaunted. "You have to. You know that's not the grade I deserved."

"I scored you exactly like I did the others, and that is the score you got," you reply curtly, looking over another paper. "I can show you the rubric if you'd like, but it won't change your score. Now please, I'm very busy."

She steps closer. You don't bother to look up until Danielle places one slender finger underneath your chin, tilts up your face, and looks straight down at you. The bratty young woman has some nerve. Her touch sends a tingle down your spine, but you try to ignore it.

"I can make things difficult for you," she says. She's giving you this piercing gaze. Her hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and her lips are bright red again.

"Miss, if you touch me again or make any demands of me, I'll have to call someone to have you removed from my office." You look right back into those eyes, trying to keep a cool facade.

"And how would that look? If someone walked in and I am kneeled on your desk." She whispers as she raises her right knee onto it first and then lifts herself up. "Maybe I could have a tear going down my face." She runs her finger down the side of her cheek. "Or maybe I could have my legs spread. What would they think?"

"Get the fuck off my desk."

"Oh, sir. I do like it when you swear at me. It's kind of hot." She smirks and she shuffles further onto your desk. Her knees push away papers and files. She's such a dainty little thing—you've thought that so many times—that you could lift her right off and carry her away by her firm little ass. You wonder if that would turn her on. "I'm not getting down. Not unless you give me the grade I want."

"Danielle. Get off my desk right now." You warn again.

"Sir, we both know I'm not a B student, don't we?" She asks as she runs her hand up her slender thigh, bringing up her skirt with it and giving you a full view of her lacey pink underwear. Her bare thighs are smooth. Her panties look delicate like you could just rip through them with a single hard tug.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the little minx.

"Are you going to change my grade for me?"

She rests her skirt at her hips, leaving herself exposed right in your eyeline.

"Danielle, you're a student, this is unacceptable." There's a quiver in your voice, but it's still the truth. This is wrong, and she needs to be punished. You want to bend her over your knee, pull down her panties and give her a damn good spanking until her cheeks turn the same shade as her lips. Then you want to pull down your trousers, take out your cock and... No.

You wince at yourself. These are not thoughts you can afford to entertain. No matter how tempting Danielle makes them. No matter how good she'd feel (you know she would feel so good). No, you can't do that.

"Sir, listen to me. Either let me work hard for you and earn my A. Or I tell the principal. Tell her how you tried to fuck me," she purrs. Her eyes flash as she challenges you.

She leans forward, pushing more files off the desk as she does. Danielle's small breasts are nearly to your face, and you wonder how her soft flesh would feel pressed against your skin.

"Well?"

Her perfume wafts around you, filling your nostrils with her sweet, intoxicating smell.

"Please. Stop this," you whisper, trying to remain strong. But you know that you can't resist her much longer.

She reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek and her touch tingles against your skin. It wouldn't be so difficult to pull her in right now and give in to all your urges.

"No."

She leans in and whispers, "Then I'll make things even more difficult."

Danielle suddenly clambers off the desk, pulling papers and stationary with her, and down to her knees. Your chair rolls back a few inches, but now her head is right between your legs.

"This isn't going to work," you lie, your breath hitching. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you realize what is happening. You don't want it to work, you tell yourself. You can't want it to work. Not when she is a goddamn student.

"It will. Trust me," she whispers.

And then you feel the button of your jeans pop and hear the sound of the zipper. You can't look down, you just can't. Instead, you stare straight forward at the clock in front of you. Watching it tick slowly.

Your breathing becomes heavier as she fiddles with the waist of your boxers. She's going to get her grade. There's nothing you can do. She knows that now, and it makes her giggle. It is a girly, innocent little giggle, and that makes everything feel so much worse.

You can feel your cock swelling and hardening underneath her fingers, and you know that there's no way to stop her now. Her hand is wrapped around your shaft. And then, her hot breath on your skin, followed by the wet touch of her tongue.

Your eyes shut tight and your hands clench the armrests. Her tongue slides around you and then, her mouth closes over your head.

"Oh, fuck." You breathe. Your whole body is tingling as Danielle starts to suck your cock, her lips wrapped so tightly around you, her mouth so warm and welcoming. She's a little bit sloppy, a little bit too fast, but you can't help loving every moment. She has you in the palm of her hand now, quite literally, and she's working your cock with all the enthusiasm you could ever want from a bratty girl who's decided that you're going to give her exactly what she wants.

Your hands clench into fists, but as Danielle keeps bobbing up and down your cock, you just can't keep them still. You've resisted this girl for so long. You've been a good man, a decent man, despite her constant efforts to seduce you.

You can't be good now.

You let go of the armrest and reach down, and you place a firm hand on her head. She squeals with surprise and delight as you force her down onto your cock, making her take you deeper than she was prepared to go. And that noise only makes it feel even better, sending tingling pleasure all through your skin. You can feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat and the pressure as she gags, the vibrations as she moans, and you don't let up. You don't want to.

You hate yourself for it; you know how wrong it is; you know how it would play out if anyone found out; you know you should feel guilty as sin, and yet all you can feel is pleasure as Danielle bobs up and down on your cock.

You dare to indulge at the sight: a beautiful girl on her knees, sucking your cock, taking you deep into her mouth. Lips laden in red gloss stretched around your cock. Wide-eyed, with mascara-coated lashes. You can feel your balls tightening. The heat in your stomach rises as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. She sucks harder, she moans a little louder, and you know you're close.

Maybe it's just how wrong it is that makes it all feel so good. Or maybe it's just because it's her.

"Sir?" She says it between planting kisses on the tip of your cock, all while her dainty little hand jerks at the shaft, her fingers barely wrapping around you. She's been teasing you for so long now. Months and months. You can hardly stand it anymore. "I want to taste it."

Oh god, how you want to give it to her.

"Danielle..." you gasp.

"I've thought about it so often. When you were in the classroom talking theories and applications, all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and let you fuck my face."

"Danielle..." It's all you can say, because what can you say? This is your student, for god's sake.

"You know how many times you left me soaked after a lesson?" Her voice is low and husky, filled with desire, and she has this little twist in her wrist every time she strokes your cock, and she is driving you crazy. "I'd run home and slip my fingers into my underwear and make myself cum."

"Stop."

"Want it, don't you?" she taunts, and then as if it's some rehearsed move, she lets go of your cock. The absence of touch makes you ache with need. She's smiling so wide that her eyes smile too, and there's a gentle laugh because she knows exactly what she's doing. "Then you better change my grade."

She sits back on her haunches, still between your legs, looking up at you with expectation. She glances over her shoulder to your computer—a suggestion (or a demand) to change her grade right this very second, or else the fun stops.

You're a weak man, aren't you? She has your cock out and your heart pounding. She's giving you an ultimatum that you can't refuse, so you're standing up, looking down at her. Your pants have slipped to the ground. Danielle's face is level with your throbbing, pulsating cock.

"You win," you say with a sigh, as you reach over her to type on the computer, changing her grade. You have barely hit the enter key before she's up and wrapping her lips around you again, her moan vibrating your cock. Your reward for breaking the rules—for betraying every ounce of professional integrity.

Your reward feels so good. You grab a handful of her hair and force her head back down onto you. You watch yourself disappear between those red-stained lips again. You don't hold back. Standing over the cute girl, your cock in her mouth, you thrust your hips forward. Every time you hit the back of her throat you feel her gag. She's trying so hard to suppress the reflex. She wants you to believe that she's an experienced little slut, but her red cheeks and her wet eyes give away the truth.

"Good girl. Take it all."

Danielle looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes, so full of mischief. She has won, and you both know it. But you can't feel sorry now. Not with her on her knees, and her lips around you. This has to happen. So you're fucking her mouth, pinning her against your desk, while she grasps at her own chest. Clenching at her breasts through the material of her shirt and squeezing her thighs together in some attempt to satisfy the burning desire you know she feels.

Her jaw hangs open, leaving you nothing more than a hole to use. You can't keep this up anymore, the tension in your body can't take it any more, and neither can she. She's gasping, choking, spluttering, fighting for her breath as you use your grip on her hair to make her swallow every inch.

A smudge on her cheek, where a tear has spilt, and mascara is starting to stain.

"Look at me," you snap, jerking her by the hair as her focus drifts.

"Yes, sir," she replies obediently, locking her eyes right on yours while looking up. You bite your lip. It won't be long. The heat has been rising, and you know you're close.

She seems to know it too, and her eyes seem to say just how much she wants you to fill her. They show you how much she wants to take her victory. That's enough to send you right over the edge.

"Mmh!" she moans as you push your entire cock into her mouth. Her gagging and protesting does nothing to prevent the contractions from running through your cock. She feels like heaven as your cock jerks, and your eyes shut tight while pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel yourself pumping load after load into her waiting mouth. Thick rope after thick rope. You didn't know you could cum like this. You haven't cum like this since...ever.

She's working you as much as her tired state allows, her tongue shifting and coaxing out your fluids. Draining you of every last drop of cum.

You pull out and she gasps for air, chest heaving. Her face is marked, her lipstick smudged. What's left on her lips looks almost as if it's bruising, and you revel in it. She looks spent. Completely used. She's even pulled one hand up to cover her mouth. With this expression, she can't pull off a confident slut act, and this satisfies you. She's panting, like a dog after a hard run.

You both win. Mutual victory. Satisfaction and defeat.

You slide down into your chair, the adrenaline running its course. For now, everything is exactly the way it should be. As if none of this has ever happened. She's checking the screen and grinning. Her eyelids flutter, and she smiles back at you—almost bashful. Relief that she got what she came for.

Danielle is just happy, while you're thinking about all the ways you would like to pin her to your desk.

-

It's now well into spring, the snow has melted and the seasons are changing. You've been waiting for a while. Weeks have passed without her coming into your class or your office or talking to you about the latest assignment.

Not that you've minded. After your last encounter, you're prepared for a little bit of distance. You're still thinking about how things went. (You're always thinking about it.)

It's all going to change today. See, the latest grades were posted this morning, and you imagine that Danielle is not going to be pleased with hers. You picture her stopping by your office shortly, demanding another change, and of course, you're going to oblige. You're getting hard just at the thought.

Even the deepest, darkest, dirtiest corners of your mind hadn't prepared for this. You didn't know Danielle's schedule, of course, but it becomes abundantly clear she came right here from cheerleader practice. Athletic, tiny, and body-hugging—all words appropriate to describe the tiny little cheer uniform she is sporting. Her shorts short enough to almost reveal her full cheeks, and her top is way too thin. Thin enough, in fact, for you to tell that Danielle wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and you could see her pert, perky little nipples—making her excitement obvious.

"Sir, what the fuck is this?" Danielle holds out her phone and points at her grade: a B+. "You'd better do something about it."

She stands across from your desk, the image of youthful indifference, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. It is a stance filled with sass.

"I think you failed to take my instruction, my guidance, properly and for that, I had to dock marks."

"And if I show you now, how well I take instruction, will you increase it?" Her head tilts slightly and her teeth rake over her lower lip, and her tone is so impudent, and something about her attitude makes the blood surge through your veins. It's like every word from her insolent mouth is spurring you on to teach her a lesson. Make her moan and scream your name. Fill her up like you did before and erase that smirk from her pretty, pretty little face.

"There is a little lee-way." A teasing, mischievous giggle. "Maybe there's something we can agree on?" You suggest, your eyes tracking the curve of her toned legs. You can feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight at the thought of making Danielle squeal.

"Where do you want me, sir?"

You both know that the bartering is pointless. This deal isn't new, it's a continuation. "Bend over my desk. Like the good little girl that you are."

She strolls right around your desk, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, and you aren't sure if the minx is putting a show on for your sake or whether it's just her natural saunter. Either way, as soon as she puts her elbows down on your desk, you're sure that her display was planned to the smallest detail.

Slowly, she pushes her ass up and back, looking over her shoulder at you. "Can I have a word, please, sir? I'm having some trouble understanding," she calls over to you, the most suggestive smile creasing her face, and you try not to let the effect of her bratty charms bother you.

"Danielle, I gave you ample explanation of the assignment." You remind her. You can't keep the humour out of your voice.

"This is true, but...it's the sort of thing I really need drilled into me." Danielle presses the very tip of one blood-red fingernail to the desk and draws it in the shape of a circle.

"I know the syllabus can be a little... hard," you say as you stand behind her. You lean forward and place your hands on the desk. The cheap wood groans in protest. You can smell her intoxicating perfume. She's definitely been driving you crazy.

"So hard," she whispers as you lean over her body.

"Do you need some extra attention, Danielle?"

"I do, sir." She shifts her body, rolling her lower back and standing on the toes, pressing the curve of her pert little ass against your crotch. "Please, sir."

It has been weeks since you had her. How could you resist a come-on like that? How could anyone? Slowly you slide your hands down her sides and grab her hips. You feel a wave of perverted, forbidden lust as you grip her flesh; she feels so good. She shivers slightly at your touch, which gives you a wicked thrill.

Danielle is so small underneath you, so petite. Your hands move from her waist, stroking along the smooth material of the skirt. She draws in a short breath as you place your hand underneath the little article of clothing. She had removed her panties, as you suspect, she would. So there is nothing to prevent you from stroking the delicate, velvety soft skin of her lovely little pussy. It's already wet—which isn't surprising, but it's even hotter than you could have dreamed.

"Danielle, you don't have underwear," you murmur.

"I know sir, so I guess the next part should be easy." She starts to wiggle against your hand, drawing up that tiny skirt a little further, displaying herself to you.

She's perfectly prepared, so you draw your finger deeper between her soft, silken lips, finding her entrance, teasing her gently, drawing mewling, desperate sounds out of the slutty girl bent over your desk. You take a moment just to savour her gasps and little whimpers. To drink in her pleasure. There's something so damn satisfying, knowing the effect that you have on her. Then, you start to pull your fingers down, toward her beautiful little clit, stroking it, working her little bundle of nerves while her excited sounds just get more and more needy.

You continue to play with her pussy while enjoying the way that her tiny breasts squish against the desk, how her hands are clasping desperately for purchase and how she rolls her little hips against you, eagerly seeking out more. She's so consumed, so lost in the moment that it doesn't surprise you when the question finally falls out of her lips.

"Sir, am I going to get an A?"

That smug fucking little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, Danielle. An A." You promise.

"Give it to me, sir," she says with the most expectant little sigh, and the temptation proves too much for you. So you remove your hand and slip your fingers in your mouth. Tasting her. Savouring her. How far you'd gone. She groans in disappointment as you withdraw, but she stops protesting as she hears the sound of your belt. Is it anticipation that has goosebumps blooming on her skin?

When you've freed yourself from your pants, it is no struggle at all to position your cock between those sweet, soft folds and draw a moan from both of you.

"What are you waiting for?" she whines impatiently, forcing herself back against you, enticing you.

Your only response is to smile and continue to enjoy the sight of her pinned against your desk. Her bare, narrow lower back is fully exposed, leading to such a cute, full little ass that is just aching to be taken. You marvel at her every detail as the head of your cock presses right up against her tight hole, tempting you into her body, luring you in.

"Sir," she whispers, a husky, throaty invitation.

Before any more of her words can fill the air, you start to push inside her slowly. Every inch that passes makes her draw a sharper breath and keeps her gasping for air.

Every whimper that passes her lips spurs you on, while every quivering contraction her pussy performs tempts you to pound every single inch of yourself into her. Every deep noise draws your attention, everything she does is captivating.

By the time your every inch is settled within her, you reach down and grip her shoulder, drawing her body into yours. And she's so darn adorable that she struggles to form the words that tumble over her lips, leaving her face twisted in a mask of effort and need. Her breath stills every time you rock inside her.

You lean over her body, your chest against her back, wanting to sink deeper into her; feeling the beat of her heart and the heat of her flushed skin.

In this moment, as the pace increases, time slows. Danielle's lithe body bows against you with every thrust. Words aren't necessary, her moans are better. They tell you just how much you are pleasing her.

She earns every part of that bump in grade through the slick tightness of her cunt, the arching of her back, the fluttering, clenching massaging strokes, and the beautiful noises tumbling from her cherry lips.

"Oh, my god..." Danielle grunts. "Harder!"

And, of course, that pleasure has a price—your control is slipping, the need is steadily becoming more intense and it's harder to resist, especially when it feels so good, your hips keep rocking, every stroke producing incredible frissons of pure, white heat. And the heat grows. You keep picking up speed, keeping her moans coming.

It isn't long before that gorgeous girl, taut and eager, clenches against your unyielding shaft, as if afraid it would disappear within her. Her breath catches as she reaches the pinnacle, before coming apart with a shrieked vowel. She bites her lower lip and digs her nails into the desk. She rides it out until every last drop of pleasure drains from her body.

While watching Danielle lose herself, your resolve disintegrates. You pick up the tempo, pounding into the pliable, supple and downright fuckable cheerleader. Her sharp, ragged gasps dissolve into a plaintive moan. Every stroke drives you closer and closer to the end.

You lean forward and whisper in Danielle's ear, "I'm gonna cum."

She nods her head quickly and urges you on, "Do it, sir."

So, you wrap one arm around her body and press your chest flush against her back, feeling the movements of her every muscle in time with yours. You can barely believe just how incredible this girl is.

"Fill me, sir," she begs as she reaches for your face. Danielle takes you by surprise as she turns to face you and places a kiss on your lips. It's light and quick, but it makes you spill your load inside her all the same. That slight, innocent contact seals the deal and your whole world erupts.

You're drowning. Drowning in pleasure and satisfaction, the throes of ecstasy wash over you as you continue to buck against your perfect little student. Every thrust leaves you breathing heavier than the last, and it isn't long before your forehead is pressed against her naked back as you pump another wave of sticky, liquid heat deep into Danielle's trembling body.

It is impossible to measure how long you two remain there, the line between where she begins and you end blurred. When you eventually start to untangle yourselves, she slinks away and returns your shared gaze with a satisfied grin.

You sit back and catch your breath, while she starts gathering herself together.

Your eyes trace her figure, the shape of her breasts, the slope of her neck. Danielle notices, because her lips curl up just a little more, and she shoots you the cutest little wink. "I know what you did, sir."

"And what was that?" you ask, playing along. Danielle picks up her jacket from the floor and then slips it on. You watch every movement she makes, your heart thumping in your chest as if trying to escape your ribcage.

She cocks her head. "Well, I think it was pretty clever, actually. But I've caught onto your game, sir. That assignment was perfect, we both know it." Danielle leans in, placing her hand on your chest. "Which means that this was never about grades. In future, you can just ask me, sir." She places a quick kiss on your lips. 

[withahappyrefrain]

number one on the smut prompts with tyler owens 🫣👀

Most people dreaded summer. The heat, the random thunderstorms, the seemingly endless droughts.

You craved it.

Summer meant late mornings, tangled up in the sheets. It meant watching sunsets in the bed of a truck. It meant going to rodeos and going home instead of a random motel.

It meant tornado season was done. Summer meant Tyler was back in your arms, spending time with you (aside from the research and occasional videos).

The exhaustive heat was still there. But he made it bearable.

"Just come join me," His voice is hot on your neck, his words stated between gentle nips as his fingers toyed with the hem of your denim shorts.

You giggled, trying to remain steadfast despite your thighs clenching, "Why do I feel like you don't want to shower?"

"Because I don't. I want to stay cool and spend time with my pretty girl," Tyler was so shameless, but you couldn't fault him; in fact, you loved that about him. How he was so insistent on talking to you one night after a rodeo, leading you to this very moment years later.

"Please?" How could you ever say no to those stunning green eyes?

The cold tile was refreshing, the cool water giving your heated body a much needed reprieve. Tyler's mouth was unrelenting as it alternated between your lips and your neck, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of your soaked folds.

You had one hand tangled in his dark blonde hair, tugging on the locks in a desperate attempt to lure his lips back to yours. The other was gripping one of his broad shoulders, no doubt your fingernails creating crescent shaped marks that Boone would tease him about tomorrow.

"Think she's ready for me?" His lips ghost over yours, so close to giving you what you wanted.

You nodded, unable to speak due to how his thumb was drawing lazy circles on your clit.

He hoisted one of your legs up, pinning your knee against his hip. Upon feeling his cock enter, you tilted your head back, a deep moan echoing off the shower tiles.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was barely audible over the shower. No matter how many times you two did this dance, it still took your body some time to adjust to the sheer size of him.

Because of course he was big.

"S'fuckin tight," Tyler grunted, his Texan upbringing shining through in his words, "Every time."

You buried your face into his neck, hoping it would muffle the sounds of your pleasure soaked sobs.

He was relentless, hips all but slamming into yours, determined to push you over the edge. You learned early on that when Tyler put his mind to something, he made sure to see it through, whether it was a storm or your orgasm.

You clutched onto him for leverage, your legs shaking as he got you closer to making stars explode behind your eyes.

"That's it, c'mon pretty girl," he chuckled at the way your tight walls clenched around his cock upon hearing his special nickname for you, "Lemme feel ya. Wanna feel ya soak me."

Almost as if on command, your vision went white as pleasure shot through your body. You were yelling saying something, most likely his name as you soared through the blissful trip.

"Ah fuck, pretty girl," his hips snapped against yours once, twice, three more times before stilling, his own release quickly filling you.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles and your heavy breathing filled the room. Finally, you were the first to chuckle, breaking the ice.

"Welcome home baby," you grinned before pressing a kiss against his wet cheek.

"Welcome home, pretty girl."

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

continuing on with the nerd!reader.

what if we added mydei into the mix along with phainon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Warnings : fem!reader , nsfw , creampie (vaginal & anal) , pet-names , dubcon , hair pulling , thigh spanking , biting (Mydei likes it when you bite him :3) , school au , teasing & bullying , a bit of crack and fluff at the end cause why not? [MDNI]

Here is the first one. ꉂ (≧ヮ≦)

Here is a third one

Also idk if this is ooc for phainon and mydei.

You rested your forehead against Mydei’s shoulder, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation of being stretched so completely. Mydei’s cock filled your pussy with every slow, deliberate thrust, while behind you, Phainon moved just as steadily, making sure you felt every inch of him. It was too much—too deep, too consuming—but you had no room to escape, trapped between them.

Mydei let out a breathy chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. “And here I thought you were supposed to be smart,” he mused, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Yet here you are, shaking like you didn’t think this through.”

You barely had the strength to glare at him, heat burning your face, but something in his voice—so smug, so self-satisfied—made you act before you thought. You sank your teeth into his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.

Mydei hissed, his body tensing for a split second. Then, instead of anger, a slow grin stretched across his lips. “Oh? You’ve got some fight in you after all.” His grip on your hips tightened, his next thrust sharper, more deliberate, dragging a breathless sound from your throat. “Careful, nerd. If you’re not, we might just take that as a challenge.”

Behind you, Phainon let out a quiet hum of amusement. His fingers curled into your hair, pulling just enough to make you tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his cool, calculating gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was intrigue there—a spark of curiosity, like he was analyzing you, dissecting your reactions piece by piece.

“How interesting,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Even now, you’re still trying to fight back.” His grip in your hair tightened, not painful, but firm, keeping you in place. “Is it stubbornness? Or do you just want to see how far we’ll push you?”

Mydei chuckled at that, rolling his hips in a way that made your breath hitch. “Maybe she just likes the attention,” he said, golden eyes glinting with amusement. “All those books, all that studying—bet no one ever paid this kind of attention to you before.”

You swallowed hard, shame curling in your stomach, but before you could even think of a response, Mydei’s hand slid down to your thigh. Smack. The sharp sting made you jolt, your body squeezing around them in reaction.

Phainon exhaled a quiet laugh against your skin. “Oh,” he mused, his fingers tracing along your throat, feeling the way your pulse spiked. “Now that was interesting.”

Mydei’s grip on your thigh tightened as he rolled his hips forward, forcing you to take him even deeper. His golden eyes flicked down, watching the way your body squeezed around him, how easily you took everything they gave you. His smirk widened.

“Would you listen to that?” he mused, his voice thick with amusement. “You’re making such a mess down there. I thought nerds were supposed to be good at self-control.” His fingers trailed down to where your thighs were slick, dragging them through the wetness before lifting them to show you. “And yet, here you are. Dripping all over me.”

Behind you, Phainon let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers still wrapped in your hair as he gave another sharp tug, keeping you right where he wanted. “It’s a little pathetic, isn’t it?” he mused, his voice lilting, teasing. “You act all shy, all nervous, but look at what your body’s saying.” His other hand slid down, resting against your belly as if to feel the way they filled you. “Your cunt is practically begging for more.”

Your breath hitched, your face burning hot. “I-I can’t help it,” you mumbled, barely able to form words between the overwhelming sensations.

Mydei chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s adorable,” he said, dragging his fingers down your thigh before—smack. Another sharp slap against your skin, making you jolt, making your cunt clench around them. “So helpless. What happened to all that overthinking? Or did we fuck all those thoughts right out of your head?”

Phainon exhaled a quiet laugh against your ear. “If not, we can always try harder,” he murmured, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate movements. His grip in your hair tightened as he pulled your head back just enough to make you meet his gaze. His blue eyes gleamed with interest, analyzing every little reaction. “What do you think, nerd? Can you even remember why you were so nervous in the first place?”

You swallowed hard, struggling to form a response, but before you could say anything, Mydei’s hand dipped back down between your legs, spreading your wetness along your inner thighs.

“D-Didn’t think so.”

Phainon’s grip in your hair didn’t loosen as he rolled his hips forward, his cock stretching your ass with slow, deliberate thrusts. He kept his movements steady, his pace unhurried—like he was testing you, waiting to see how long it would take before you cracked.

“You’re taking me so well back here,” he mused, his voice light and teasing. “And yet, this poor little cunt is still so desperate.” His free hand dragged down your stomach, his fingers slipping lower until they brushed against your slit, spreading the mess between your legs. “Just listen to it.” He pressed in slightly, just enough for his fingers to slide against where Mydei was filling you, and a wet, lewd sound followed.

Mydei let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “It really is embarrassing,” he drawled, his golden eyes flicking down to where you stretched around him. “I mean, this much?” His fingers dug into your hips as he thrust up into you sharply, forcing another slick noise from your dripping cunt. “Do you ever get like this when you’re alone?”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling between them. “I—I don’t—”

Smack. Mydei’s palm came down hard against your inner thigh, making you jolt. “Wrong answer,” he said, his smirk widening. “Try again.”

Phainon chuckled, still teasing your slit, his fingers never quite giving you enough. “I think she’s too fucked out to think,” he mused, his grip tightening in your hair as he pulled your head back again, forcing you to meet his amused gaze. “It’s cute, really. All that overanalyzing, all that hesitance—completely ruined by how much her cunt is begging for it.”

Mydei let out a scoff, but there was something pleased in the curve of his lips. “Pathetic,” he murmured, though his hands held you steady, making sure you took everything they gave you. His pace picked up, each thrust forcing out another lewd sound from between your legs. “Go on, nerd. Listen to yourself. Still think you’re not enjoying this?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, humiliation curling in your stomach—but your cunt clenched down around him, your body betraying you all over again.

Phainon exhaled a quiet laugh. “No answer? That’s fine,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. His next thrust was sharper, his cock pressing even deeper into your ass. “Your body already told us everything we need to know.”

Mydei’s grip on your hips tightened, his pace steady but firm, drawing every wet, messy sound from your dripping cunt. He watched you with sharp, golden eyes, amusement curling at the edges of his smirk. “Still trying to pretend you don’t want this?” he teased, rolling his hips in a way that made you gasp. “Because your cunt isn’t lying.”

Behind you, Phainon let out a thoughtful hum, his cock still thrusting deep into your ass, each slow, deliberate movement making sure you felt every inch of him. His fingers dragged along your stomach again, teasing the sensitive skin before dipping lower, spreading your slickness between your thighs.

“She’s making such a mess,” he mused, sounding almost fascinated. “Soaked all the way down her legs. I wonder…” His fingers barely brushed against your clit, the lightest touch that sent a shiver up your spine. “Is it because of Mydei?” Another slow thrust into your ass. “Or is it because of me?”

A whimper left your lips before you could stop it, and Mydei laughed, his smirk widening. “Aw, look at her,” he mocked, his grip in your hair tugging slightly, tilting your head to the side so he could see your flushed face. “She’s trying so hard to be shy, but her body’s being so honest.”

Phainon chuckled, his other hand resting against your throat, not squeezing—just feeling the way your pulse raced beneath his fingers. “I wonder what she’d say if she could actually think straight,” he murmured, his voice light, teasing. “But that’s a little hard right now, isn’t it?”

You swallowed, your breath uneven, your body trembling between them. You could barely focus, barely form words, but they were waiting for something—for you to say it.

With a shaky breath, you forced yourself to nod. “I… I want it,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. You finally admitted it as blush formed on your cheeks.

Mydei’s grin was slow, pleased. “That’s more like it.” He rewarded you with another sharp smack against your thigh, making you jolt. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Phainon exhaled a quiet laugh, his next thrust pushing even deeper, making you arch. “Good girl.” His fingers traced your throat before moving back to your waist, holding you steady between them. “Now let’s see just how much you really want it.”

Mydei let out a sharp exhale, his pace stuttering just slightly before he regained his rhythm. “You’re squeezing so tight,” he muttered, his fingers digging into your hips. “Like you don’t want to let go. What, afraid we’ll leave you high and dry?”

Phainon chuckled behind you, his thrusts still slow, teasing, like he wasn’t in a hurry at all. “Oh, no, Mydei,” he drawled, his voice full of that usual detached amusement. “She wouldn’t be that pathetic, would she?” His fingers brushed over your stomach again, feeling the way your muscles tensed with every movement. “Would you, nerd?”

You whined, too overwhelmed to even try forming words. Your whole body was burning—everywhere they touched, everywhere they filled you. It was too much, and yet, not enough.

Mydei groaned, tilting his head back with a breathless laugh. “You’re making a mess of me,” he muttered, looking down at where your cunt was dripping all Mydei let out a sharp exhale, his pace stuttering just slightly before he regained his rhythm. “You’re squeezing so tight,” he muttered, his fingers digging into your hips. “Like you don’t want to let go. What, afraid we’ll leave you high and dry?”

Mydei groaned, tilting his head back with a beathless laugh. “You’re making a mess of me,” he muttered, looking down at where your cunt was dripping all over him. “And Phainon, apparently. Congratulations, nerd. You’re disgusting.”

Phainon hummed, his next thrust a little sharper, making you jolt. “A fascinating display of desperation,” he mused, almost like he was filing away research notes. Then he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “I like it.”

You let out a helpless whimper, your body tensing as something hot curled tight in your stomach. “I-I’m—”

Mydei’s grip tightened, his voice full of teasing cruelty. “You gonna cum, nerd?” He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “You gonna soak both our cocks like a pathetic little thing?”

“Ah, she is,” Phainon noted, sounding almost surprised. His hands slid up to grip your waist, holding you still as his thrusts grew sharper, pushing you closer and closer. “How adorable.”

You let out a choked cry, your whole body going taut before the pleasure finally snapped, waves of heat crashing over you as you came hard around them. Your cunt clenched down around Mydei, making him groan, his own movements growing erratic.

“Fucking—” His breath caught, and with a final thrust, he buried himself deep, his fingers bruising against your skin as he spilled inside you.

Behind you, Phainon let out a long exhale, his own grip tightening as he thrust a few more times before he stilled, finishing with a quiet, satisfied hum. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his fingers tracing small circles against your waist as he caught his breath.

For a moment, the three of you just stayed there, panting, your bodies tangled together in a mess of heat and exhaustion. Then—

“Well,” Mydei finally said, stretching lazily, his usual smugness creeping back into his voice. “That was fun.”

Phainon hummed in agreement. “A rather intriguing experiment.” His fingers ran absentmindedly through your hair, his voice full of mock curiosity. “I wonder how soon she’ll be ready for another round?”

You groaned, your face burning. “I hate both of you.” Mydei laughed, far too pleased with himself. “No, you don’t.”

“…Shut up.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[tojikai]

Sundered 3: MIRRORS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, suggestive smut

word count: 6.8k

He’s the one who picked this pace so he got no business complaining.

“Think you know who I am now?” Satoru’s eyes scanned the marks on the man’s skin, hearing the sound of his own teeth grinding against each other. It gave him a painful yet tingling sensation in his mouth, sending weakness to his jaws as he found himself stepping forward to invade the space that the stranger made for himself inside your house. 

“I guess you do if you’re coming at me like that.” The man chuckled, standing his ground as he straightened up, almost chest-to-chest with Satoru. The smirk on his scarred lips remained unfaltering and his eyes glimmered with a mix of mischief and displeasure. Satoru can’t even tell if he’s playing with him but he can’t just let him disrespect him like that. 

“You just really wanna be rude, man.” Satoru hissed through clenched teeth, hearing the stranger chuckle, clearly enjoying his irritation. He could’ve been on friendlier terms if he didn’t act like he own the place. “What’s wrong with asking who you are? If anything you’re the one who interrupted our morning session-” With a sharp intake of breath Satoru balled his fists tighter.

He would’ve swung a punch if it weren’t for the figure of a woman in an oversized shirt coming into view. “Satoru?” He looked over to see you and your worried face. Your hair was a mess, having just got out of bed but it didn’t dull your glow. Whose shirt is that you’re wearing? He was sure he didn’t leave any clothing of the same appearance here. Why are you just in your underwear when another man is in the house and where is Yui?

Now, Satoru isn’t dumb but those questions in his head were just him wanting to hear answers from you instead of believing the stupid man who opened the door for him. “I didn’t think you’d be here earlier. Yui stayed with Mom last night.” Your voice was soft as you spoke to him and so are your sleepy eyes. Like he didn’t just break your heart a couple of weeks ago. 

There was no trace of resentment in your features and Satoru wished it was just that, instead of concern gracing your face as you pulled the stranger’s hand before checking his face. Won’t you check me too? He wanted to ask but he bit his tongue, looking away from the sight. What was he expecting? He doesn’t want that anyway. Naomi wouldn’t put him in this situation. 

“I’m gonna call Mom, they should be on their way here.” Satoru eyed the man as you walked together to the kitchen, leaving him in the small living room. His hands were on your waist and by the size of the shirt, it was obviously his. “Do you make Yui stay with Mom, now?” Satoru spoke, annoyance prominent in his voice as he followed the two of you.

“No, it was my Mom’s birthday yesterday and she wanted to spend some time with Yui, so I let her.” You explained, keeping your eyes on him before glancing over at the guy who was now walking to your fridge in his sweatpants. “This…He’s Toji. I, uh, met him a few weeks ago.” Satoru bit his lip, before nodding slowly as if coming to a realization.

“He’s a new friend?” Satoru leaned on a nearby wall so as to appear as cool as he can be. “For now.” Toji chanted, winking at you. It got Satoru frowning, eyebrows coming together as he bit the inside of his cheeks. “Nice to meet you.” Toji stood in front of him, reaching out a hand as if they didn’t try to throw fists at one another earlier. Satoru isn't fond of his attitude. 

“Satoru. I’m the father of her child, ex-boyfriend.” There was an emphasis in his words, filled with a tiny bit of animosity compared to his smiling face. Satoru could see you taking a deep breath when he reached for Toji’s hand, shaking it. It took everything in Satoru not to squeeze too hard, controlling his temper as he got a closer look at the guy. 

Green eyes that look like they were always glaring; the complete opposite of his. Especially the dark hair and the scar on the side of his lips which made his smirks even more aggravating. No guy would want their wife in the same room as him. He looks a bit rough but Satoru can tell why you’re with the guy.

The supposed to be “peace offering” and “friendly shake hands” quickly turned into a stare-off between the two of them, like giving each other unspoken warnings. Satoru’s pretty sure that you can feel the air in the house get thicker as you cleared your throat, trying to get their attention away from each other.

“I know who you are, I just wanted to make sure.” Toji confessed but before the situation escalates any further, you spoke, “I, uh, would you like something while waiting for—” It was obvious that you were desperate for a way to keep him and Toji apart. You don’t really ask him that, and almost as if on cue, the door opened to reveal your mother and his baby girl. 

“Let me change real quick.” You whispered, before pulling Toji inside your room. His baby girl squealed at him, completely unaware of what has been going on before they came in.

“You’re early.” Your mother spoke to him as he gave her a small smile of courtesy. Satoru knows that your mother wanted to be rude to him; she probably wanted to slap him when they first met after your fight, but she’s not that type of woman. She can be very indifferent, but never hostile.

“Hi!” Satoru heard your daughter speak to Toji when he walked out of the room in a t-shirt now. The little girl giggled as he waved back at her. So, this isn’t the first time she saw him, he thought. “Yes, Mom. I can’t waste an hour to be with this angel.” He nodded at your mother, fixing the zipper of Yui’s jacket before taking the baby bag.

“Thank you, Mom. Did I rush you? Sorry about that.” You apologized. Satoru can notice the blush on your cheeks as you fix your hair so it was covering the side of your neck. Satoru couldn’t stop his brain from making up scenarios of what could’ve possibly happened in the short amount that you were in the room with that man, dressing up. 

Your eyes met his as you fixed your daughter’s hat making her reach out her hands to you, urging you to hold her. You took Yui from Satoru giving her cheeks tiny kisses which made her smile, hugging your neck and placing her head on your shoulders. Toji made faces at the toddler, making her giggle joyfully. 

For some reason, the whole scene doesn’t sit right with Satoru, so he focused on checking her things instead, all while cursing to himself. “We were already on our way, it’s fine. Have you made Toji breakfast?” Your mother smiled at Toji, and it made Satoru wonder if you felt like this during the few dinners where his Mom would sit next to Naomi and ignore you the whole night. 

Yui was still too young and was not used to being away from you. He and Naomi also just started dating then. You know there was no point to have you there but your daughter just won’t go without you. Satoru remembered you sitting on the corner of the spacious living room as his mother held his daughter in her lap, entertaining his new girlfriend. 

Although his father isn’t as bad, he’s too busy catching up with other relatives to chit-chat with you. His cousins kept you company but it was only a matter of time before they move on to something you can’t relate to.

There was one time when they took the family pictures while you were in the bathroom and when you came back, you had to stand there and watch them. Naomi was standing beside Satoru as she carried Yui. You shrugged it off when Satoru tried to apologized. You though that it was only right because you’re not even part of their family anymore since you two broke up. But Satoru could see right through you. 

You wouldn’t be faking a smile if it didn’t hurt you.

“I’m going to cook, Ma’am. Let’s all eat together.” Satoru can tell that your mother was fond of Toji with the way she’s smiling at him. She used to be like that to Satoru too, even going as far as sending homecooked foods for his Mom and Dad which you knew they never ate. You just never said anything because you didn’t want to start something and you didn't want to hurt your mother’s feelings.

“Oh, I have to go to a friend’s house, sadly.” Your mother checked her watch before clicking her tongue, “Maybe next time, son.” With that, your mother bid farewell to all of you, albeit a little coldly towards Satoru. There was an eerie silence save from your daughter’s laugh as she caressed your face.

“You ready to leave with Dada?” You spoke as you leaned her towards Satoru, allowing the man to take her from you. “Let’s go, now, love. Naomi is waiting for you.” He cooed at her as she buried her face in his neck, smiling while she peaked at him “I’ll bring Megumi next time so, you can play, okay?” Toji pulled your body close to him, chuckling at how your daughter screamed in excitement, kicking her little legs.

Satoru wanted to roll his eyes as he watched Toji subtly caress and squeeze your waist.

Satoru kissed Yui’s head, pulling stray hairs away from her face to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. He’s just so ill-mannered, it’s making Satoru want to warn you about him. He can see how comfortable Yui is with Toji which provoked the questions he’d been keeping to spill out of his mouth.

“I’m gonna cook breakfast.” Toji tapped your behind as he walked away. Satoru didn’t appreciate that but he’s glad the he left. He needs answers. He knows that he’s in no place to demand, but Satoru wants to know if Toji’s arrogance matched his place in your life. As soon as Toji walked far enough, Satoru stepped closer to you.

“Since when?” He asked, gentle eyes watching your daughter as she now plays with his hair. You looked at him for a moment, blinking as you think. “Can’t remember. It’s nothing official, we’d just been hanging around each other during free time and we…” You trailed and Satoru looked away, avoiding your eyes. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear that come from you. His eyes already saw it. He nodded slowly, breathing in as he licked his lips before swallowing.

“That’s good… good for you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. What else should he say? That he’s happy for you? Yeah, he’s definitely happy for you. Now, there’ll be better harmony between everyone because you can now feel how Satoru feels about Naomi, right? You can finally understand. That’s it. This is a relief, he thought as he smiled. 

Satoru was staring at you but his mind was out of it. He can see it in your face. You’re glowing. That Toji guy must’ve been treating you so well even if it’s only been for a few weeks. Satoru can’t even bring himself to feel angry. 

This is how you must’ve felt when you saw him and Naomi that day. This is how affronted and helpless you must’ve felt. 

How you tried so hard to stand your ground as you looked at the two of them being the couple that you should’ve been to each other, watching him save Naomi’s face due to how you saw them and your first impression of her. Seeing him rub on your face that you’re over and he can finally do what he wants. Realizing that he never meant any fucking word he promised to you…

He felt like he cheated that time and he said that to Naomi. He felt like he betrayed not only you but also his daughter. But her words didn’t fail to calm him down. “We can figure everything out together, Satoru. We’ll solve this; all of us.”  She shushed as she put her head on his bare chest. The image of your face, void of emotion but with your broken heart reflected in your eyes was as clear as a day.

This is how you must’ve felt and it’s not fucking nice because if it was, Satoru wouldn’t be holding his breath right now, seeing the hickey you’ve been hiding peek between the strands of your hair when you moved towards him to kiss Yui’s forehead. “Be a good girl, ok?” She was singing something none of you can understand but definitely made you laugh. She’s growing so fast and everything’s changing so fast as well. He wondered if he could keep up. 

He’s the one who picked this pace so he got no business complaining.

—------------------------------------------

Earlier that morning

You woke up to kisses on your shoulders as your eyes twitched against the morning light coming through the slits of the Venetian blinds. The first thing you saw was the luminous lines on the floor, making you sigh as you observe the pale hue. It’s still early, you thought as you felt a calloused hand traveling across your waist to caress your stomach. It made you relax, reaching over to touch the back of Toji’s neck as his kisses moved up to your nape.

You first got to know Toji when came to the cafe where you work one rainy morning, you recognized him to be the man at the toy store. His baby boy was in a small raincoat and boots and he was wearing an expensive-looking coat. You already know that he bought the playpen that day, making you wish they still have some left in stock.

“Stomp your boots, come on. Good boy.” He coached his son, holding his hand to prevent him from slipping as he jumped on the mat to get the wetness off his blue rain boots. His cheeks were chubby and red, it reminded you of you. With just one look, one can already tell that he’s his father’s son. He took the raincoat off the little boy and his placing it on a nearby rack. 

When he looked up, your eyes met, making him narrow his, as he tilted his head. He’s trying to remember where he saw your face and he’s shamelessly doing that. He definitely knows that he looks good. You thought before quickly shaking your head, feeling bad that you’re thinking of someone else’s husband like that. 

“Good day, sir! What can I get for you?” You spoke as he stood on the other side of the counter, scanning your features. It made you feel slightly conscious, fixing your hair subtly as you tried to hide the awkwardness in your smile. “It’s you, how’s your daughter?” You looked at him with mouth slightly ajar, did he just ask how your daughter is without even meeting her? He’s a funny man, you thought,

“You said you’d but a gift for your daughter back in the toy store so, I wanna know how she is.” He clarified bending down to pick up his little boy. The kid caressed his round tummy wordlessly, staring blankly at the menu. “U-uh, she’s okay, sir. Thank you. I was trying to remember where I saw you.” You lied, typing away at the machine to prepare for his order. 

“I’ll have Long Black and a blueberry cupcake for this little dude, that’s what you like?” The man pointed at the menu and the eyes of the kid sparkled as he stared at it. “Yep, he’s having that.” You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you looked down, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’m Toji, by the way. This is my son, Megumi.” Is he befriending you? You looked at this hand for a few seconds before you came to your senses.

“Y/N.” Shaking his hand, you watched a small smile form on his lips, “Sorry, I was just a bit…surprised.” You laughed nervously, passing their orders to the other staff. “Have a seat, sir. Your orders will be served as soon as it’s ready.” You smiled up at him. They sat at the nearest table with the kid, looking at you. You watched Toji feed his child from a couple of meters away. 

Yui and Satoru must look like this when they’re having a day out. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and pining.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He bid farewell to you after getting a takeout for his son. “Bye-bye,” You were surprised when the little boy waved at you. Albeit without a smile, he was waving his tiny hands enthusiastically. Since then, Toji and Megumi have been coming to the cafe every other day. That's how you got close to them.

You found out that Toji’s wife passed away during childbirth so, it’s only him and the 3-year-old Megumi. Like Satoru, he came from a well-off family. He owns a branch of his father’s business. You also told him about what happened between you and Satoru. Well, a little sugar-coated version of it, because you didn’t want to seem like you were just looking for sympathy but he still caught on. 

Megumi and Yui became playmates. She was deeply amazed by his toys, which Toji decided to share with her, letting the kid take some of them home. Their house was huge, and in Megumi’s playroom was the playpen you were checking out at the store, but the bigger version. Those few weeks felt like months due to how much you learned about each other. And that led to this moment. 

You weren’t supposed to invite Toji over but you ran into him while you were shopping for groceries. And just like you, it just so happens that his son was sleeping over at his parents’ with his cousins. You thought that inviting him over wouldn’t be so bad. You both didn’t have to eat alone in your homes. You know that Toji’s been interested in you but you paid no mind to it, not wanting to seem like you’re just desperate to have someone.

But that night was different. No alcohol was involved yet, you both drowned in each other’s presence.

The next thing you knew, you were moaning under him as he suckles on your skin. The sounds of his pants and your whimpers filled the place and your bed has never felt so small yet, so warm. His hands wandered places you never thought could feel the way they did when he touched them. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He grunted for what seemed like a millionth time in your ear, pulling you closer as if being skin-to-skin wasn’t close enough. His lips felt soft and gentle against yours as he caught your delicious cries of his name. It’s been so long since you were handled with care. The way he moved within you was enough to take you to cloud nine. 

Once again, a simple night became another turning point in your life and this time, you hoped that it would be for the better.

“What do you want for breakfast?” You turned over, burying your face in his naked chest, remembering the events that occurred the previous night. You felt his fingers tracing your sides, gliding down your behind before grabbing a handful, making you slap his arm light. “This is what I want for mornings.” He chuckled, tangling his legs with yours.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.” You quickly stood up, forgetting about your state. You ended up wincing as you sit down, eliciting a laugh from Toji before he got up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. After washing up, you gave him a new extra brush, watching him watch you in the mirror. He could cover your whole body with his by how much bigger he is than you. You blushed as you reckoned the number of positions he had you in last night.

“What?” He smirked at you, washing the water down his face. You shook your head as you finished brushing your teeth. You stood there naked, with Toji ghosting behind you in nothing but his sweatpants.”This is unfair, why are you in your sweatpants already and I’m still naked?” You turned to look up at him, pushing your hair back. As if on instinct, his hands were automatically on your hips.

“I can take this off if you want.” He joked, tilting your head up to give you a slow, passionate kiss. “I’m still sore,” You whined, pressing your forehead against his. Chuckling, he pecked your lips, “I know, let me take you to bed. Rest, then we’ll have breakfast.” He carried you back to bed before giving you your underwear and his shirt.  

“Call me if you need anything,” He kissed your forehead before walking out of your bedroom. You lay there for a couple of minutes, enjoying the silence of the morning and his scent on your sheets. How long has it been since you had that kind of night, you thought to yourself as you smelled his shirt, blushing as you walk out.

Opening the door, you can hear Toji talking to someone. Your brows furrowed as you walked out, following the sound to the front door. Is Yui back already? You thought, But it’s not noisy. Curious, you tried to peek over Toji’s shoulders as quietly as you could. Your eyes widened when you saw a mop of familiar white locks and a pair of blue eyes. The situation was familiar, but this time it was reversed.

Satoru’s the one staring at you with hurt and betrayal in his eyes.

————————————

“Mama buy Yui.” The little girl pointed at the ribbons on her hair as Satoru placed her in her carseat. Satoru still can’t wrap his head around what happened. “Really? Yui looks really pretty.” He tapped her cheek before going to the driver’s seat. He promised himself that if you open the door for him, he’s going to make it up to you. But look at what happened today.

“Toji tells Mama pretty.” The little girl squealed before giggling like she understands what was going on and was unaware of how her father’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “He does? Why?” The breaths he was taking were deep, as he waited patiently for the kid to answer but it was already out of her mind. 

Satoru shook his head, telling himself that he was just surprised, and having been worked up earlier, his temper still hasn’t fully gone down. “Naomi’s pretty too, right?” Ah, yes. His lovely girlfriend, Satoru sighed as he remembered that he has someone by his side. Someone who truly understands him. The child nodded, humming to herself and leaving Satoru with his thoughts again.

Toji’s probably been helping you get over your jerk of a baby-daddy. He’s giving you the comfort that Satoru should’ve given you. He probably doesn’t give you headaches; doesn’t leave you waiting, arrives on time and he probably doesn’t make you feel less than another woman. 

“Fuck.” Satoru punched the side of the wheel, hearing his little girl gasp. “Huh?” She uttered.

“Sorry, love. I was…That’s not a nice word. Dada shouldn’t have said it.” He smiled at her, before reaching over to caress her cheeks when they stopped at the red light. Satoru ran a hand through his hair, pressing his back against the chair. He shouldn’t be stressing over your relationship. He got his to nurture and focus on. What matters is, you’re happy with your respective partners.

Reaching his house, Satoru was bouncing a laughing Yui in his arms as he pretended to jump around. “Hey, baby. How are you?” Naomi’s always been so sweet with his little girl and he appreciates that. It was one of his concerns when he thought about getting with her but they were pointless for she was so fond of the child.

“Look at her eat, babe! She’s too cute.” Naomi looked at Yui in awe as she chewed on the broccoli. Satoru noticed that she’s getting real good at eating on her own. Even if you go to work away from her, you still give Yui more than enough attention and Satoru wouldn’t deny that he’s amazed by that.

You work at a cafe owned by your friend for five hours from Monday to Saturday. Though working longer means more money, you don’t want to leave your baby too much. You earn enough for the bills and some of Yui’s needs. Satoru wanted to double her allowance but you refused, saying that it should be as fair as the days she stays with the two of you. It’s a basic schedule that never got followed. 

Instead of being 3-4-4-3, it just became 4-3; four days with you and three days with Satoru. It’s because the middle day is usually spent with the two of you together. He can’t remember when and why he came up with that. But he thought that it would be for the best, at least until your child can finally fully understand your situation. It hasn’t happened ever since the fight. 

“Babe?”Naomi tapped his arm, “Satoru!” She tilted her head as she tried to catch his blank stare. Satoru snapped out of his thoughts, breathing in as he looked at his girlfriend’s face. “Hm?” He picked up the glass of juice, drinking as he kept his eyes on her. “I said that when we have one of our own, I’d get them used to eating vegetables early.” She massaged his arm, smiling with her eyes.

“One of our what?” It was a dumb question that Satoru had inside his head while she was speaking but it slipped out, “Ah, no, I mean, yeah. It’s good when children aren’t picky with their foods.” Reaching to wipe the child’s mouth. “Are you alright?” She inquired, concern lacing her soft features. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s just work.” He smiled half-heartedly before coaxing the woman to eat.

The following days were spent with the three of them eating outside and taking Yui to the mall playground. He found himself sending more of Yui’s pictures to you than usual. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve but ever since you introduced Toji to him, he’s been hoping for a chance to talk. He can’t just turn a page when the one he’s on is torn. At least, that’s what it felt like to him.

You’re starting a new chapter and he feels like he’s stuck there. He’s the one who wanted it, so why does it seem like he’s trying to prevent it now?

—--------------------------------------

Satoru set an alarm early, knowing that you’ll be picking up Yui today. Most likely with your boyfriend. He remembered Yui video calling you on his phone accidentally the other day. Turns out, you were at Toji’s. He didn’t even have to ask. The chandelier, the pillow, and the bed, as well as the lampshade; that’s definitely not your room. 

You were fondly talking to Yui but almost immediately came up with an excuse to leave the call when Satoru sat down behind her. He could tell that as much as you want to see your child, you don’t want to interact with her father. 

He’s felt unwanted by you before. This time he just needs closure, he thought.

That’s a bit too much considering how shitty he treated you. But he can’t keep acting like you still have some type of connection other than being parents. Not only is he being unfair to you but to Naomi too. He’s just not used to seeing you with someone else and that’s why it’s bothering him. 

“You’re getting up already?” Naomi spoke in her tired voice as Satoru sits on the side of the bed, checking his phone. “Yeah, they’re picking her up today. You have work too right?” He yawned, stretching when he stood up. Satoru gave Naomi a kiss on her forehead, hearing her hum. After getting ready, Satoru cleaned his living room; arranged the toys inside the playpen, and checked the front yard.

“This is new,” Naomi laughed, holding her coffee mug as she sat on the couch, watching her boyfriend tidy up his home. “You look good, Dada.” She joked which earned a chuckle from him, “You know I could see you doing this every morning” She walked closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she gave him a long kiss.

“I gotta mature, Yui’s growing.” He placed a hand around her waist, “We might grow too. Soon.” Naomi winked at him and Satoru couldn’t help the smile on his face. You used to tell him that you want three kids, and he wondered if you changed your mind. “What is it?” Naomi asked and only then did Satoru realize that he spaced out again.

“I gotta get Yui ready.” He chuckled, pecking her lips, “Oh, yeah. Let’s go. I wanna pick her clothes.” She giggled, pulling Satoru with her. You’ve been in and out of his mind. And it’s not even just because of Toji. Ever since he left the day that you argued, Satoru’s been thinking about nothing but how to make you talk to him. 

The only thing that stopped him was reminding himself of your relationship’s status. You’re not together; he told you he doesn’t want you, and he’s comfortable and happy with Naomi. His guilt was consuming him. He gotta get this out of his chest and properly apologize to you. You don’t even have to forgive him, he just wants to let you know that he didn’t mean what he said.

Getting Yui ready slightly got things off his mind. Her cute laughs, screams, and small conversations with Naomi drowned every worry in Satoru’s mind. But after that, the thought of seeing you with that guy again loomed over his head. He hasn’t told Naomi about it. It doesn’t feel right to talk about you with her like that. 

Satoru dressed himself in a blue-grey sweater and denim jeans. He found himself fixing his hair, and checking his face. “You’re already handsome, my love.” Naomi hugged him from behind, kissing his shoulders. He was just about to answer her when the doorbell rang, signaling your arrival.

“Yui! Love, Mama’s here!” Satoru called to the playing toddler, she was focused on watching her cartoons.“I’m gonna get the door, can you check her stuff?” He spoke to Naomi as he gave a quick look at himself in the mirror. She nodded, puzzled at his urgency but chose to shrug it off.

Satoru ran a hand over his sweater and hair before jogging to the gate. There you stood with Toji and another kid in his arms. The toddler looked so bored for his age, which is about the same as Yui’s. “Is she ready? Oh, this is Megumi, by the way. Toji’s son.” You motioned to the kid. Oh so, that’s why you get along so well. He’s a father too. 

But Satoru’s a father too. Of your own child, on top of that. 

“Hi, he looks like you a lot.” It was a struggle to get friendly with Toji. Not only because of their first meeting but because of how he put his hand on the small of your back. He’s just trying to flex. Satoru wanted to roll his eyes so badly. “She’s inside, come in.” He shook away his bizarre thought. 

“Yui!” The little guy spoke suddenly, pointing as he spotted the little girl in the playpen. Yui quickly turned her head at the voice, recognizing her playmate. “She really knows Megumi.” You chuckled at Toji as he put his son down. The little girl was quick to hug him, squealing as she pulled her father’s hand.

“Gumi, Dada.” She gestured at Megumi. She was introducing her playmate. “She’s gonna be a sweet sister,” Satoru was quick to turn to Toji, seeing that he was dead serious even as you pinched his side. He wanted to ask what makes him so sure that you’re gonna choose him. “She’s happy to see her little friend.” Naomi hugged his arm as he put her head on his shoulder.

“You ready to go?” You cooed at Yui when she tapped your leg, pointing at Megumi like he didn’t just come here with you. It was funny, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to laugh when his eyes landed on the necklace on your neck. He remembered giving you one, but you stopped wearing it when you saw him with Naomi. He doesn’t get to look for it now. 

“Alright, let’s go.” You were about to pick Yui up but Naomi’s words halted you, “What about Mama’s kiss?” Satoru cursed himself for avoiding discussing it with Naomi because of how it ended in a fight with you. He was about to tell her but he just couldn’t without getting frustrated for not being able to reach you. Naomi opened her arms to Yui but little Megumi has his own words.

“No Mama, No.” He spoke, shaking his head at Naomi like she wasn’t unknown to him. “Yui Mama.” He patted you, eliciting a chuckle from Toji. “Alright, you’re talkative now. Let’s go.” He picked the little boy up. It left Naomi laughing awkwardly beside Satoru who was busy getting his daughter’s things. 

“Give me a kiss, love.” Satoru gets closer to Yui and naturally, to your face too, as you sat her on your hip. His eyes met yours for a couple of seconds, looking away bitterly when he couldn’t find the emotions he was searching for. Even if you told him that it was nothing official, Satoru could see in your eyes that you were slowly leaving what you had with him. 

Like what he did with you. He just didn’t know that this is how it would feel. 

Walking out with you felt like he was walking you out of his life, entrusting you to this man who probably knows your body, your scent, and your touch the way he does. Does he still know you like that? After all that he’s said and done, Satoru can’t expect that you still see him the same way. 

A part of him says it’s for the best, so you could move on quicker. But the other part of him felt like he was the one walking backward.

The children waved at them and Satoru could only plaster a smile as he watched you get on the passenger side. “That’s a nice car. I didn’t know she got a boyfriend.” Naomi spoke cautiously beside him, “Yeah, that’s not her boyfriend.” Satoru walked back inside the house, mood officially ruined.

“Naomi babe, you can’t have Yui calling you Mama anymore.” Satoru spoke as he get himself a glass of water. He’s not giving himself a chance to delay the information any longer. He just wants to clear everything up, that’s his last hope of getting rid of the weird thoughts and feelings he’s been getting. These unfinished businesses are probably messing with his head.

“Oh, sorry. She disagreed?” Naomi sat down in front of him, watching her boyfriend’s face. “Yeah, it was disrespectful to her. It is.” Satoru nodded, caressing her cheek. Everything else after that was just Satoru answering her questions. He doesn’t even feel like meeting with his client anymore. He just wants to sleep. It’s only morning and he’s already drained.

He didn’t think that seeing you with someone else could suck the life out of him. 

—------------------------------------

It’s been two months of proper co-parenting with you. Well, it’s proper to you and Toji, you’ve been living your fairytale with your king. Satoru scoffed as he downed another drink. He was at the bar where he first met you. Alone. The noise was loud but not loud enough to mute the thoughts inside his head.

He recalled that one time when you picked Yui up, and Toji had the guts to tell him that he was taking you and Yui out of the country to go to Disneyland. He wanted to tell him that he’s gonna be the one doing that but the excitement of his kid prevented him from doing so. 

“I just wanted to get your permission because I don’t want to be disrespectful to the other parent.” Toji didn’t mean harm but the words sent Naomi out of the room.

He once stalked Toji’s account and found photos of you and him by the pool. A swipe after that was the kids drinking coconut water in their swimming attire. The arm floats looked cute on their arms and Satoru wished that he was there to witness that with you. Another swipe was your legs in between Toji’s. 

It was frustrating enough that he had to log off for a day. If this happened several months back, he’d probably post a picture of him and his girlfriend just to piss you off. But he can’t do that anymore. He’s way too aware of what’s happening to him to still act like an asshole. 

The other day he and Naomi ran into you and Toji at the grocery store. The kids were on strollers and he never told Naomi but he already saw you before she even pointed your presence out. As much as he wanted to see his baby, he was too afraid to approach, fearing that he’d be met with news that could end everything for him. 

He saw Toji put his large hand on your lower stomach, as the other one snaked on your hip. If this is what he thinks it is, he’s probably gonna faint right on the spot. He whispered something to you that made you look up at him with a smile.

It’s been a while since you smiled at him like that. 

He consoled himself by saying that it was too early for something like that but was quickly discouraged by the fact that he himself made rash decisions without regarding how you might feel. During the encounter, Satoru kept himself grounded by entertaining the kids. 

“Pour me another one.” He spoke to the bartender, before leaning on his forearm. This is bad, he thought. His girlfriend will definitely wonder why he’s trying to get wasted alone in the bar where he first met the mother of his child. If that happens, Satoru wouldn’t know what to say. She was such a good woman to him and he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. 

This is one of the reasons why he’s encouraging himself to move on, aside from the fact that he’ll probably never get you back. He has high respect and admiration for Naomi. She’s been nothing but a great person to him. She was there when his mind was a mess and she held him down. He wants to avoid breaking her heart.

Why didn’t you think of this before you gave up on Y/N? Have you no idea how much she put up with just to make it work with you?  A voice in his head spoke, pushing Satoru to down another drink. He’s fucking right, he thought. That voice was fucking right. 

“Y/N gave up on me because I gave her every reason to. I gave up on Y/N because I was tired. I was never fucking fair.” Satoru cursed to himself, pulling his phone out just as his mind started to spin. He doesn’t even know if what’s happening is real. But Satoru has gotten enough confidence from the alcohol to spill out everything in his heart.

With a couple of taps, Satoru’s phone was ringing in his ear, waiting for the other person to pick up. “Hey,” A lazy voice rang through the speakers of the phone “...love you..” Satoru answered, coughing as he held his head with one hand. 

Frustrated with the noise, Satoru made his way to a far corner. Pressing his back before sliding down to a sitting position by a wall. “...where are you?” Satoru couldn’t even hear her clearly. He laughed half-heartedly, sniffing as he teared up at her concern. “I still love you, Y/N. So, so much.” He spoke more clearly. 

Little did he know, it wasn’t Y/N on the other end of the line.

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[l-starsz]

billie surprises reader with toys that she wants to try out

a/n: this took me three days to write and is a little over 2000 words.. i am so sorry it’s taken me long to get around to this but i hope that the amount i’ve written makes up for it🥲 i’ve also not proof read this because i am falling asleep so if there’s mistakes please ignore it😞

as the movie ended, i sprawled out further on the sofa, stretching to grab the remote. billie had to go to a meeting, so i was keeping myself busy to pass the time while she was out. i'd started by cleaning our room, and the living room, before flopping on the sofa with shark. i'd turned my favourite movie on, but as it ended i was questioning what to watch next. i'd scrolled through tons of movies, but none sounded interesting, so i ended up watching my favourite series instead (which i'd watched thousands of times).

i was halfway through an episode, it had just got really good, when i heard a knock at the front door. i was obviously confused, i hadn't ordered anything lately, and billie wasn't supposed to be back for another hour. when i opened the door, the delivery guy handed me a parcel, i was puzzled, but thanked him anyway.

when i sat back on the sofa, i looked at the front of it and noticed that it had billies name on it. she'd usually tell me if she ordered something, but i brushed it off, assuming it was something for work. i placed it aside so that i'd remember to tell her that she had a package, then watched tv for another hour.

when i finally heard her walk in the house, i was practically asleep, but jumped up off the sofa to greet her. i saw her standing with her arms out for me to fall into, and immediately ran over.

"i missed you bil!" i giggled.

"i missed you more angel!! what did you get up to while i was gone, huh?" she ran her hands up and down my back before we pulled away from the hug.

"i cleaneddd, then i watched tv and shark was laying on the sofa with me to keep me company." i smiled as we wandered towards the living room, "oh! and a parcel came for you?" i gave her a questioning look.

when those words left my mouth, i noticed a small smirk appear on her face, which just made me so much more confused. we sat down facing eachother as she picked up the small box, then handed it over to me. i furrowed my eyebrows as she encouraged me to open it. i slowly and cautiously opened it, not knowing what i should expect inside. as i opened it up, i realised what she had ordered. my eyes widened as i glanced over to her, seeing her slightly laughing at the look on my face.

"do you like them?" she laughed. my jaw was practially on the floor as i just nodded.

there was a new strap, and vibrator in the box. the strap was bigger than anything we'd tried before. i didn't even know if i'd be able to take it. my mind was flooded with different thoughts as she gently took the box from me.

"wanna try them now, love?" she whispered, placing her hands on my upper thighs.

all i could do was nod, but she wanted a proper answer from me.

"words." she leaned closer as her lips ghosted over mine.

"yes. please, baby."

"good girl." she answered, hungrily pressing her lips against mine.

i moaned into the kiss as her hands explored my body the best they could over my clothes. soon enough, though, we pulled away from eachother and rushed upstairs.

it wasn't long before i was completely naked, pushed against the bed. my back was against the cool sheets and billies hands were placed on my hips. she was biting and sucking my neck and chest while my hands reached out for her clothes. i tugged at her shirt, trying to signal to her that i wanted it off. she took the hint and pulled it off, along with her jeans. she was left in her bra and underwear, her tits were threatening to spill over the edge of her lacy black bra, and she just looked so perfect sitting in front of me.

we were soon both completely naked, my hips were grinding up against her as she continued marking me. i knew she was trying to get me worked up, but i was just getting impatient at that point.i groaned and whined in an attempt to get her to touch me, but she didn't listen. she didn't listen until i begged her.

"you really need this, don't you angel?" she smirked.

i nodded desperately, bucking my hips up once again before she moved to grab the box. she first pulled the vibrator out, almost immediately turning it on. she started on the lowest setting, pressing it against my clit lightly, but soon pressing down harder. i didn't hesitate to moan loud as she gradually turned it up to the highest setting. she was moving it around against my clit, adding to my pleasure and making me squirm around. i was getting closer already. it never took her long to make me cum, but i was lasting even less time, given the fact that the toys were brand new.

my stomach tightened, and i was clenching around nothing. my wetness was flowing onto my thighs. my moans were high pitched, and frequent. i was ready to cum, but she pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. my moans turned to desperate whines and whimpers. i'd been so close to finishing, just for her to take that away from me. i saw a smirk playing on her lips, and it clicked in my head what she was doing.

billie pulled the strap from the box, carefully lifting it before adjusting the harness so that she could tighten it around herself. once she'd got it on, she noticed i'd been watching with wide eyes, and gently pushed me back against the bed again. her fingers first made their way to my folds, carefully moving my wetness before pushing one of her fingers inside me. i was tight around her, soaked. she teased me slightly with one finger for a bit, and then proceeded to push a second finger inside me.

she was gently stretching me out, preparing me for what was next. obviously, i was still moaning from the feeling, but i knew i wasn't finishing until she'd used the strap on me. breathy moans were leaving my mouth, whilst billie was admiring me and working on getting me ready.

my eyes were closed, and my head was resting on the pillows when i felt her pull her fingers from my entrance. it was only a matter of seconds before the strap was pressing against my hole, and the tip of it was inside me. i shifted around and felt billies hands land on my waist, running up and down to make sure i didn't get too overwhelmed.

"is this okay? can i push in a bit further angel?" her voice was soft, and caring.

"please." i whined and nodded.

she soon enough bottomed out, and kept still, careful not to hurt me. i moaned way too loud as the strap was completely inside me. as she was staying still and waiting for me to tell her to move, her hands were holding onto mine, running her thumbs across the back of them. once i was used to how much bigger this strap was compared to our other ones, i whined and nodded, looking into her eyes.

"are you sure? i don't want to push you too far. you're doing really well for me so far."

"i'm sure." i whispered, gently squeezing her hands to reassure her that i was okay, "i promise."

she started slow at first, pulling herself almost all the way out, then carefully pushing back in once again. she kept this up for a bit, but as i started getting wetter, her thrusts sped up. i was fisting the sheets, my eyes were shut tight and my hair was starting to get knotty from moving around so much.

i was tight around her, making it slightly difficult for her to move, but she didn't let that stop her. she just continued to speed up, determined to make me feel as good as possible. when i was starting to get close, she paused for a minute or so. i was too blissed out to look at what she was doing, letting out whines of protest instead.

"shh, angel. being so good for me. my good girl."

i took deep breaths, trying not to make noises at her. it wasn't long at all before i felt the vibrator on my clit once again, and that's when she started pushing the strap in and out of me again. i couldn't control my moans, and it felt like i couldn't control how my body was reacting as my high approached. my stomach felt tight. everything felt tight. i reached out to try to grab her free hand, brushing my fingers over hers until she took my hand in hers.

"pl- please! please baby! so close! i need to cum pleaseee!!" my moans were broked, along with my sentences.

"my pretty girl. can you hear how wet your pussy is for me?"

i nodded desperately, my eyes screwed shut as breathy moans echoed around the room.

"yeah, baby? oh love, you look so needy and perfect for me. you really need to cum for me, hm?" she spoke, lightly squeezing my hand.

"yes!! want to cum for you right nowww." i whined and squeezed her hand tighter.

"oh baby," she pouted and moved her hand to brush the baby hairs from my face, "cum for me then."

i was practically sobbing as i finished, my hands were covering my face, and i squirmed around in my spot. my moans and whines filled the entire room, and i was barely able to hear billie speak as i started to come down from my high.

"that's it my love. you've been such a good girl, i'm here. just relax for me. i've got you." she whispered as her movements came to a stop, and she took the vibrator off my clit.

once she'd turned it off and thrown it on the bed, she slowly maneuvered up my body, careful not to move the strap too much inside me. her soft lips peppered gentle kisses all over my face, before finally landing on my lips.

"can i pull out?" she whispered between kisses.

"mhm. cuddles. please hold me." i mumbled, absolutely worn out.

i heard her giggle at my words, and my drowsy state before slowly pulling out as carefully as she could. i winced when it was completely out, all of a sudden feeling too empty.

"my pretty angel. so fucked out, huh?"

i nodded and tried to pull her on top of me, but she didn't let me.

"can you go once more for me, baby? i just wanna taste you." she whispered, being so gentle with me.

i nodded tiredly. i was so exhausted, but i wanted her touch so bad.

"you're sure? we don't have to if you don't want to. use your words for me."

"one more, bil. still need you. one more quickly." i mumbled out.

i saw her smile sympathetically at my tiredness, before she worked her way down my body again. her tongue was careful between my folds. she'd soon enough reacted my clit, but she made sure not to overstimulate me. she made sure that she was gentle, but also just enough to make me cum again.

it wasn't long at all before i was moving in my spot, and letting out broken whines and moans. my back arched up, grinding against her mouth as i came again. my wetness soaked her chin, and the sheets under me. billies hands were holding my thighs, helping me calm down and relax as she moved away from my core. i could see my juices over her chin, and my heart raced at how beautiful she looked even after everything that had just happened.

my hands reached out for her, finally pulling her on top of me and getting the cuddles i'd so desperately wanted.

"you've done so good for me today, love. i know you're sooo tired, but i need to get you cleaned up, okay? i'll run you a bath and we can be really quick, then i'm going to get you a snack and drink, then we can sleep. i know it sounds like a lot, but i just want to take care of you properly. is that okay?" she whispered against my lips, placing a gentle kiss on them once she was done speaking.

"can we be quick bil?"

i was way too exhausted, but i knew she just wanted to make sure i was clean and looked after. she had the kindest heart. i felt so grateful for her.

"of course we can, my love. we'll be super quick."

i nodded and allowed her to get off me, then let her help me sit up. it wasn't long before we were in the bath, and billie was helping me wash my hair and body. we spent about 20 minutes in the bath, helping eachother out and just laying in eachothers arms. after what felt like hours, we got out, both wrapped in towels and heading back to our room to change. once we were in pyjamas (which for me, consisted of some shorts, and one of billies shirts), she helped me to sit on the chair at the vanity whilst she changed the sheets.

i felt so bad for sitting there letting her do almost everything, but i wasn't in the right headspace to do anything but sleep. if i stepped foot anywhere near the bed, i would've flopped onto it and been asleep straight away. we both knew this, so it was a better idea for me to sit and wait. obviously, she was constantly checking on me, making sure i felt okay and that i wasn't too sore.

the bed was soon made, and i immediately hopped into it, trying to convince bil to join me.

"ah ah. need to get you a snack. not long until you can sleep." she smiled, stroking my hair and kissing my cheek before she rushed downstairs.

i almost fell asleep when i was waiting for her, but she was soon back with something to eat, and a glass of water. however, when she got into bed next to me and wrapped an arm around my waist, i didn't want my food, or my water.i only wanted billie. i wanted her touch, her kisses, her love, everything. obviously i had that, but i had to wait until i'd eaten.

i tried shaking my head and resting it on her shoulder, shuffling further into her when i heard her let out a small sigh.

"i know you're tired, baby, but please just try to have something for me. the sooner you eat, the sooner you can sleep. i'll eat with you, then i'll hold you the whole time you nap. how does that sound?"

"okayyy." i whispered, practically asleep.

even though i'd agreed to eat, i was so exhausted that billie had to feed me. she knew that i would've gone to sleep if she didn't. i felt so lucky. when we'd finally finished, we both settled down in eachothers arms. before i fell asleep, i leaned over and peppered her face with light kisses, making her giggle.

"thank you, baby. you made me feel so good, and i feel so loved. thank you for taking care of me and loving me. i'm really grateful for you my pretty girl." i whispered, before falling asleep immediately with my head on her chest.

"i love you so much, my angel. i'm so proud of you." was the last thing i heard from billie before i was flat out.

[polkadotzzzz]

pretty sheriff!

18+, mdni, power bottom caitlyn, sub top reader, strap on, nipple play, cheating, brief mention of vi.

a/n: i lowkey hate this,,,,,,,but enjoy the crumbs while i work on requests

i can't stop thinking about caitlyn and her young little assistant that she brings everywhere to important meetings, fancy dinners, fundraisers. she stays stuck by the side of a young girl who has dreams of being more than she ever could be, but little did everyone know that this 'assistant' has the strong sheriff of piltover making such whorish sounds for her.

"s-so pretty" you stammered, pushing your hips deeper into her. the silicone cock was dripping with caitlyn's arousal.

the moans that left caitlyn's lips was downright pornographic. her slick tight walls squeezed taut around the toy, and you couldn't help yourself as you plunged even deeper for her, trailing your hands down to her ass to spread her open, watching her hole wetly flutter around you.

she was so stern, so level-headed. never in a million years would you have believed this would happen. it's so dirty, so forbidden, so horrible of you, especially since her spouse was slaving away at work all day........

"p-please!" you whimpered loudly with each thrust the harness pressed into your sensitive clit sending sparks of pained pleasure up your spine her nails dug into your shoulders, creating small indents in its wake.

"so shameless" oh, so perfect. caitlyn breathed out guiding your movements, bucking her hips up to meet yours. "fucking a married woman, aren't you ashamed sweet girl? i'm so much older than you."

you tried you really could, but you couldn't speak. all you could do is moan and slobber all over her tits. you've always enjoyed her breasts, heavy to the touch and nicely shaped. they were always accentuated in that stupid sheriff's uniform and could never stop staring at them, and finally you've got the chance to touch.

caitlyn's raw bitten lips part with a soft gasp as you tug at her nipple with your teeth, sucking on it afterward to soothe the sting. had you known she'd enjoy that, you'd have had your mouth on them sooner?

blooming red marks littering her body varied in stages of healing. they weren't yours. they were never yours. the whole point of this was to not get caught yet seeing those marks the hickeys her spouse had left just the night before triggered something within her.

you wanted to mark her up too── no you had to mark her.

"hey now──" her hands delved into your hair with a wince as you dug your teeth into the collarbone. it stung, drawing a droplet of blood. "what has gotten into you?" she scolded, not giving any care to your glossy eyes. "biting me?"

"you like it when she does....." god, you can even recognize your own voice as so soft and meek and jealous.

caitlyn rolled her eyes. "of course i do", she spat, slightly smug, slightly teasing. "violets my wife, i love her."

this is just a game for her, working you up, spitting cruel words, putting you on desk duty at work, not letting you look up from your papers. for one moment, she switches from the generous heir to the spiteful domineering woman. she did all this because she knew you'd never leave her side.

"keep going", her cool breath hits your face, "before i get bored with you."

and god do you keep going even as your muscles ache, and your breath starts coming out in your pants, you keep snapping your hips into the vevelty walls because you don't want this to end. how would violet react to seeing her spouse being fucked on their bed? caitlyn enjoys your little show of power, but she thrives even more on the thrill of control you give. all it takes is a brush against your jaw or a finger tracing the drool sliding down your chin, and you were putty all for her.

the front door downstairs opens.

your heart stutters, your hips halting your breath from getting caught in your throat.

violet wasn't supposed to be home, yet not for another three hours. no, no, no, no, no──

your head was yanked back, harshly, sneering lips pressing towards yours. you whimpered, falling against her breasts, kneading needily at them like a stupid dog slobbering all over her lips using way too much tongue drooling all over her.

caitlyn broke the kiss to laugh. she didn't care that her wife was currently trekking up those very stairs. right at that moment, she couldn't care less.

caitlyn forced her tearing eyes to meet her, smirking when a droplet rolled down your cheek. it was satisfying and gratifying she could cum from watching you cry.

the door opened.

"cupcake! i──"

violet came to a screeching halt in the doorway, a million different emotions crawling onto her face: shock, sadness, hurt, betrayal, lust.

oh

caitlyn adjusted her position, locking her legs around your waist, tugging you closer and you whimpered loudly as the harness dug into your sensitive clit. fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now.

caitlyn chuckled slowly in pure amusement, nothing else.

"keep going dumb girl, make me cum, make my wife watch as you fuck me"

[leaawrites]

Flowers

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, jealous Percy, mention of Y/n

Wordcount: 2k (this is a long one)

Summary: To get her attenion Percy would even get into fights just to be healed by her.

Masterlist

Percy has been watching her for some time since he came to Camp Half-Blood. Always finding her in a crowd of people. Always letting his eyes drift over heads he couldn’t care less about until his eyes found her face, or her back, or her hair.

Y/n, daughter of Apollo, savior of people’s life. It wasn’t that dramatic, at least for her. Y/n was never given the damaged, just the hurt. A little cut here, a bruise that had to be cooled there, a kid that had to be cared about because it had gotten sick. Never the deep cuts, the bleeding face, the broken bones. It was never that. Not after she asked to take care of those in need of it a thousand times.

Percy knew that. He saw it. At first, he thought his eyes betrayed him, that it wanted to make her look small in his eyes, so that he could save her. But it wasn’t that. His eyes didn’t betray him. It were the people that betrayed her. They didn’t care about how soft her fingers were and how gentle she would take care of the hurt. They knew she was soft, she was sweet, perfect for the small things in life in their eyes.

• • • • • • • •

All eyes turned to him, as he stepped into the infirmary. There were cuts on his face, his knuckles bruised and split open. Blood dripped down from his lips on his orange shirt. It stained the fabric, leaving a mark of the actions he made for people to believe in her.

The sun was already slowly disappearing, leading to most campers be in their cabins already.

“Oh gods, what happened to you?” Laura, a sister of Y/n, asked him, pulling him by his arm to sit him down on one of the cots.

“Nothing bad, just another fight with Clarisse,” the boy shrugged absentmindedly, his gaze searching for a certain someone.

“This girl really has to get herself together,” the red head scoffs as Percy tells her what happened.

After searching for a little longer, his eyes found her body. He smiled as she smiled. His eyes lit up seeing her this happy, a flower twirling in between her fingers. A pink lovely flower, freshly picked from the boy in front of her. A son of Demeter. Percy’s gaze went sour as he saw that she was smiling at him. The red of her cheeks made him want to paint her face in a different color.

“They’re not dating,” Laura spoke, as she saw Percy watching Y/n. It wasn’t a surprise to her that he liked her. Laura knew her sister, she was amazing.

“I don’t care.” The boy quickly covered his jealous eyes with a nonchalant lie. Still they betrayed him, as his gaze found her again.

“Sure, you don’t.” She chuckled.

A loud whistle was heard from Laura’s mouth, making the whole room look at her. Percy saw her hand call for someone across the room and before he could process what she was doing, a bundle of sunshine appeared in front of him.

“What is it?” Y/n smiled at Laura, the flower steady in her hands.

“Can you take care of Percy here? I’ve got to go, Will just called me over,” Laura explained, pointing to a direction where Will apparently was.

“Sure,” she said back and then Laura was gone. Leaving the two alone, Percy cursed and thanked her at the same time. “What have you done to get in such trouble again?” Y/n was well aware of Percy’s reputation around camp. She knew that he was always on the lookout for danger.

“I haven’t done anything, first of all,” Percy defended himself.

Y/n hummed in sarcastic agreement, before her voice got lower and a sweet tone escaped from her lungs. The feeling of her skin against his made me Percy shiver in his bones. A sweet laugh appeared in between the humming when she felt Percy’s body shake as she brushed her hand against his face.

The cuts were healed, but the dried blood still decorated his face like a stamp of shame. When he was attacked by Clarisse, after he provoked her to do it, he didn’t fight back. When Poseidon wanted to rescue him he told him off. Running from the water, not wanting to be healed by a simple touch of water on his skin. Y/n took a cloth from one of the stacks, wetting it under the water to wash his shame away.

When Y/n approached Percy again, she couldn’t get a good look at his face. His eyes were fixed on his fidgeting hands, one finger tapping against his leg. A small touch and his face shot up to her. Y/n was laying her finger and his chin, softly touching his jaw to keep him in place as she brushed the cloth over his face, like he was her most precious painting that she still had to finish.

The silence between the two laid over them like a blanket over a child that tried to hide from the monster under his bed. The air around them was warm and comforting, they were wrapped in each others presence, but they couldn’t breath normally. It was stuffy, and suppressing them from being able to breath in properly. Her breath was warm against his face.

“That’s a nice flower,” Percy noticed, cutting the tension between them.

“It’s really nice,” the girl agreed with him, smiling at the memory of receiving it. It wasn’t about the boy who gave it to her, but rather about the gesture as it. She liked that someone cared.

“Do you like him?” His questions got bolder, as well as his tone. Percy Jackson would never admit that he was wrong. He would never agree that someone actually had him wrapped around their finger.

“I don’t know. Maybe sometime in the future,” she answered, not wanting to keep talking about it.

But Percy kept going. “Well, he certainly likes you. He cares about your happiness as it seems.”

“Why do you care?” Y/n stopped moving her hand, but held it in place to hold on to the possibility of touching him.

“I don’t.” Percy shrugged it off, his eyes going over to Laura who was watching the pair in anticipation.

Laura knew about Y/n’s slight crush on the son of Poseidon. She knew about how Y/n always wished that she could take care of the troublemaker for once. But she also knew, that the girl started to lose hope of ever being noticed by the demigod. She wanted to move on, so when a boy asked her out and later brought her a flower, she couldn’t deny his offer. Not if it meant that she showed Laura in the process of rejecting him, how she still liked the same guy for too long.

“Okay.” Percy looked back at her when the cloth moved again, a bit harsher this time. She didn’t hurt him. Percy was convinced that she could never hurt anyone. Not even her worst enemy. He saw a glistening shimmer in her eyes and the more focused look in them now that she actually looked at the task at hand and not the boy in front of her.

“What are your favorite flowers?” His question surprised her. His whole presence and interest surprised her.

“Why does it matter?” She asked back, finishing up with cleaning his face.

“What are your favorite flowers?” He asked again, a shimmer of something flickered in her eyes.

“I like Carnations,” the girl answered. She smiled at his question. Nobody asked her before, just if she liked flowers or not, or what flowers she would suggest to get someone on a first date. All these questions. But never what her favorite was.

“But these are roses,” Percy pointed out, motioning to the flower that now laid beside him. When she didn’t answer his statement, unsure of what to answer at all, he continued. “Didn’t that guy ask you about it before getting you one?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “He only asked if I liked them and I said yes. I guess, it’s just because they aren’t that easy to get around here.”

“If a guy wouldn’t move mountains to get you even only a flower, he won’t move rocks to save your life,” Percy said, making the girl laugh at his quote. She liked the look on his face, like he was actually confused and embarrassed for that guy.

“That’s very sweet,” she said. Percy’s face turned red after he noticed how corny that sounded.

“I’m a very sweet guy,” Percy answered, holding his chin up in pride.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in amusement of his sudden confidence. “Oh, is that so?” She tried to play his game, but just one look into his green eyes made her swallow back the rest of her words.

“Yeah, you should go out with me instead.”

All of her assumptions about what he would say were thrown out the window after he said that. Her eyes widened a bit, her heart stopped before beating rapidly. Percy saw the color draining from her face and jumped from the cot, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he landed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, thinking something might took over her body. His hands found her waist to stabilize her body. He didn’t want her to fall to the ground inside the infirmary, like he did something to her.

“Are you playing with me?” She whispered, blinking her surprise away. Her head felt dizzy and patterns started to appear on the walls and everywhere else around her. In fear of blacking out, Y/n put her hands on Percy’s arms, tapping her finger against his skin to keep her mind occupied.

“What? No.” The boy was more worried than shocked at her assumption. Noticing her state, he called Laura over. The red head looked concerned at her friend.

“I will handle her, you should probably go,” she told Percy. He knew better than arguing in this moment, so he nodded and slowly bagged out of the big house.

When Y/n woke up the next day, Laura was already by her side. Waiting with breakfast next to her.

“Oh gods, finally, you’re awake.” Laura threw her arms around the girls body, knocking her back down on the pillow.

The morning was filled with the two girls talking about what happened after she blacked out. Laura was telling her how Percy used to look at her when he came into the infirmary, when a knock on the door sounded. Laura wandered over to the door, opening it. Her eyes lit up when she saw who was stood in the doorway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said to the person in front of her.

Y/n looked confused at first, not knowing who was at the door. Until a blonde teenage boy with a lanky figure was pushed into the room. Percy stood in front of her for a moment, remembering every little thing in her cabin. Her body found his gaze again and they softened for a second when he saw her messy hair and exhausted posture.

“You brought me flowers?” Y/n asked the boy, noticing the flowers in his hand.

“I did, yeah.” He walked over to her, standing beside her bed, handing the Carnations over to her.

“Thank you.” Tears began to prickle in her eyes again. She mostly hated how easily it was to get her to tear up and cry.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did anything to you or something, I don’t know. If I did, please let me know so I can change that.” Percy stopped talking when Y/n moved up to hug the boy in front of her.

“You did nothing wrong, Percy,” she assured him with her head on his shoulder. When she lifted her head up, she pecked his cheek before pulling him down to sit onto her bed.

They sat beside each other the whole day, talking and becoming closer over time. The flowers shining beside them.

[nerdlvr]

friends?

just fluff , bsf jeno to lovers , haechan is haechan ofc, mark and renjun cameo , mentions of chenle and jaemin , touchy friends , pet names , cuddling , they don’t act like friends ofc , kissing for like 2 seconds , requested here !

"look at those two."

mark followed renjun's finger to the dance floor, you and jeno looking very friendly as your bodies swayed against each other.

"then she complains that she doesn't have a boyfriend, everyone in this party thinks they're dating! like come-"

mark held his hand up,

"wait wait wait, look."

now renjun was the one following mark's finger to the dance floor, there you were being pulled away by some mystery figure, jeno standing there dumfounded.

"oh shit."

"dude wait, wait act normal he's coming towards us."

mark turned his back to jeno, pretending like he was having some interesting conversation with renjun,

"and then i was like- oh hey jeno! didn't see you ther-"

"don't be an idiot i know you were watching us."

mark's lips formed a straight line as renjun laughed at him,

"nice one markie, always subtle."

"shut up renjun."

jeno rolled his eyes, the cup in his hand crinkling slightly under his grasp,

"how about both of you shut up?"

haechan joined the three of them, two drinks in hand,

"someones got an attitude, must be cause i just saw y/n-"

mark gestured for haechan to shut his mouth, his eyes wide as he swiped his hand across his neck in a cutting motion,

"and i will be leaving now, good day gentlemen."

haechan swayed his hips as he danced away. at least someone was in a good mood.

"can you all stop acting like that."

renjun stared into his drink, swirling it around the red cup,

"can you stop acting like you're not in love with y/n?"

renjun side eyed jeno, hesitantly waiting for him to respond. but instead jeno slumped against the kitchen counter, his hands coming up to rub roughly against his face.

"i'm not in love with her, she's- she's my best friend."

"if that's what you wanna call it dude, but renjun's my best friend and you don't see me dancing up on him-"

it was mark's turn to talk, a slight laugh in his voice as renjun made a gagging gesture,

"and i definitely don't get jealous when he's talking to other people."

jeno looked up at mark to respond when he felt a warm figure latch onto his side, and there you were, a small sleepy grin on your face. any harsh words that would've been directed to mark died in his throat as he brought his hands up to cup your face,

"ready to go home bubs?"

you nodded against his hands, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. you giggled as he blew on your face to wake you up, your eyes opening to see his soft smile,

"wake up, lets go home sleepyhead."

he let go of your face to wave his friends goodbye, giggling softly as you started to dig your face into his chest,

"we're gonna get going, you have a ride home right?"

their heads turned as a screaming haechan zoomed past them half naked, a man in a gorilla costume chasing after him. mark shook his head as he threw his thumb out to point towards where haechan had just been running,

"that's my ride! don't worry about it jen, you take care of your... friend there, me and renjun will take care of our haechan."

jeno let out a small laugh as he waved goodbye before turning to leave, not missing how mark shook his head, mouthing the words not best friends.

.

you didn't even know you had arrived home until you felt the warmth of your bed engulfing you, your puppy plushy tucked gently into your arms,

"jen?"

your voice was soft as you called out into your empty room, your bed no longer feeling as warm as it should. you sat up, arms hitting against your puffy duvet as you looked around for any sign of jeno.

he wouldn't just leave you. you didn't know why you felt so frantic as you rushed out of bed, the cool air making you shiver. your slippers quickly slid along your wood flooring as you shuffled out of your room, eyes searching around your living area.

he wouldn't just leave you. your chest tightened as you heard your bathroom door open, a worried looking jeno stepping out quickly. he rushed over to you hands immediately cupping your face to examine you,

"did you call me? is everything alright? i'm sorry i just wanted to wash up before-"

of course he wouldn’t leave you. you pushed his hands away, your arms reaching forward to pull him in by his waist. he smelled of your shampoo, warm and sweet. your voice was muffled against his chest as you let out a breath of relief,

"everything's okay, come to bed... please?"

you both walked awkwardly towards your room, your arms still tightly wrapped around him as you stood on his feet. he wobbled you both to bed, giggling as you refused to release him, your head shoved firmly against his chest,

"come on lovey, lets get into bed, i know you're tired."

you finally let go of him as you crawled into bed, a small smile on your face as you watched him get in after you. his body was warm against yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against his chest.

"whats got you so smiley hm?"

you shoved your face into his shoulder hiding your growing smile,

"just happy you're here."

"would you have been happy if that other guy had brought you home?"

he bit his lip waiting for your response, real smooth jeno.

you placed your chin on his chest, a slight pout on your lips,

"no."

your response was simple, straight and clear. but for some reason the word no hung in the air, the slight shift in the room making you giggle nervously.

"i mean like- you know- just- just no."

"what if it was jaemin?"

your eyes rolled,

"no."

"chenle?"

you shook your head against his chest,

"nope."

"what about haechan?"

you stopped shaking your head to look at him, a grimace on your face,

"is that even a question?"

he laughed at your response, hands coming up to rub at your hair,

"so just me?"

"just you jen. there's no one like you."

you rubbed his chest softly. a light blush on both your cheeks as your words settled between you two.

“it’s always gonna be just us.”

us. was there an us? you were too scared to ask, scared of what an us might imply. but jeno always knew just what to say, he was good at that, even if sometimes he doubted himself,

“i only want it to be us. me and you. seeing you with someone else isn’t right.”

your blush now spread down your neck, your body radiating softly against his. his expression mimicked yours, cheeks a pretty pink as he chuckled nervously,

“yeah… just- be with me you know. don’t waste your time on other guys that don’t even know you, i’ve been here always and you- you- what are you thinking right now?”

he looked down to see you grinning up at him, your smile making his chest ache. you tried to hide your smile, ducking your head into his chest again,

“i just think- okay.”

“okay?”

his voice was a little confused maybe even a little surprised. what did you mean okay?

“just okay. this is nothing new jen, it’s always been just us, we were just too scared to put a label on it. i mean even haechan tried to show us and he’s the most-“

“haechan?”

you giggled against his chest,

“yeah, that guy that asked me to dance said that haechan promised him 20 bucks if he pulled me away from you.”

jeno brought a hand up to rub his face, groaning loudly,

“oh my god, and mark- and renjun! i can’t believe i fell for it!”

you gave his chest light pats rubbing after to soothe him,

“it’s okay jen, we all know you can’t hold in your jealousy.”

he held onto your hand, sitting up slightly,

“i was not jealous!”

you giggled as you leaned up slightly to plant a soft kiss on his cheek,

“whatever you say jen, whatever you say.”

he rolled his eyes at you unable to hold back his smile,

“give me another kiss and i’ll consider datin g you even after you left me to dance with some other guy.”

“and if i don’t?”

he pouted slightly before cupping your face, his lips spreading back into a smile,

“brat, you know i’m gonna kiss you anyways.”

only a soft mhm left your lips as he pressed his lips against yours, soft and sweet, the light taste of liquor on his tongue invading your senses.

you both parted slowly, dazed looks on your faces as you both just smiled at each other, cheeks pink and lips shiny.

you both owed haechan, big time.

[ghsface]

Hi k have a kinda specific request that I thought would make a good fic! I was thinking that maybe we see the BAU and y/n and Spencer the morning after Yk… the girls figure out that y/n just got layes and they do the whole bonding girl gossip thing. Derek sees Spencer wearing a scarf and makes a joke about it, only to realize that he was right. Penelope tells Derek and then without y/n or Spencer realizing like everyone knows. They also figure out why Reid is the only one with hikeys 🫢 and yeah…. Thanks queen! I hope this makes sense

New Message ✮⋆˙

Hey gorgeous, I love this idea so much, it was very fun to write I hope you like 🎀 🩷

our secret, not so secret - Spencer Reid

Sumary: You and Spencer try to hide your relationship, but it's hard when you have hickeys on your neck.

Warnings: fluff, jokes, hickeys, the bau being chaotic, I think that's all, this is pure fluff,

A/n: I'm sorry if there is something wrong or not understood, my first language is not English.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

It was a chaotic morning for you. You woke up a little late and the mess was evident in Spencer's bathroom mirror, with those little reminders on your neck that not even the concealer could completely hide. You were aware that you were trying a desperate maneuver, but well, Spencer had already warned you that the makeup would not last the entire day. Still, you were determined not to leave any evidence, you applied the last layer of foundation before leaving his apartment, determined not to give any clues about what happened the night before.

For Spencer, the situation was not much different. She decided to cover the marks with a scarf, trying to act normal as they prepared to face another day of work at the BAU, as if everything was perfectly under control. The two of you looked at each other knowingly before leaving, in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret... again.

Arriving at the office, you said good morning as if nothing had happened. But it wasn’t long before Emily and JJ, who seemed to have a radar for these matters, caught you in their line of sight. They looked you up and down with a mischievous grin, and without missing a beat, JJ raised an eyebrow and fired the first bullet: “And that face, Y/N? Long night?”

You tried to shake your head with a nervous laugh, avoiding looking at the two too much, but Emily stepped closer, lowering her tone so as not to draw too much attention. “Oh, come on, babe. There’s a sparkle in your eyes… and, from what I see, on your neck too.”

With your heart in your throat, you quickly glanced at your reflection in a nearby frame and noticed that the base had already begun to fade, leaving a faint purple mark showing. Emily and JJ glanced at each other, and then Penelope, who appeared out of nowhere as if she had smelled the drama, also joined the small circle. “Please let me guess… was anyone busy last night?”

Between laughs and accusations, you tried to defend yourself without much success. You knew they were trying to provoke you and that, at this rate, the secret wasn't going to last long. Emily and JJ's laughter soon attracted Derek, who approached with a mocking smile. “What's up, girls? Something I'm missing?”

Emily gave him a knowing look and pointed towards the entrance, where Spencer had just appeared with a very inconspicuous scarf. Derek narrowed his eyes and laughed. “Since when does Spencer wear scarves? It's spring, for God's sake.”

They all looked at each other, hiding their laughter, as Derek approached Spencer. With an attitude that only Derek could adopt, he patted him on the back and gave him a knowing smile. “Pretty boy… do you need some advice on how to handle the weather?”

Spencer froze for a second, trying not to lose his cool. He knew he had been caught. He tried to respond with a vague excuse about “changing his style” and “protecting his throat,” but Derek simply held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Sure, sure, I imagine the weather was intense last night, right?”

Meanwhile, you were trying not to burst out laughing at Spencer's obvious blush and despair. But Derek, who had caught on to the whole situation, turned around to join Emily, JJ, and Penelope again, winking at the girls. “See what I'm saying? Our genius boy is growing up.”

Before Spencer could respond, Hotch walked past the group, observing the laughter and commotion with his usual seriousness. But something in his expression betrayed that he fully understood what the conversation was about.

“Anything you want to share?” he asked, without losing his composure.

Derek shook his head with a smile, but took the opportunity to continue provoking. “Nothing, Hotch. It just seems that some of your colleagues have… interesting extracurricular activities.”

Hotch cast a quick glance at you, who were trying to make yourself small at your desk, and then at Spencer, with her suspicious scarf. For the first time, a barely perceptible smile crossed his face.

“I guess ‘activities’ require a little more discretion next time, too, huh?” Hotch said, before continuing on his way.

As the team laughed and threw around comments, Rossi walked over with a cup of coffee, assessing the scene like the veteran he was. “Ah, youth… that energy and lack of subtlety. There’s nothing like first love at work.”

By then, the rumor had already spread throughout the office.

Hours later, as you tried to continue with your work, Penelope approached with a whisper. “Honey, we all know. You two don’t have to hide anything.” Your surprised expression was enough to make her laugh. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret? Come on, we’re profilers. Wait not me but thay do. Plus… you’ve never come to the office so… happy.”

You decided to give in and accept it, and just as you were about to approach Spencer to tell him, he appeared at your side, still wearing the scarf. When you turned to look at him, he already had that resigned expression on his face that made you laugh. “How much did you hear?” he asked with a sigh, looking around and catching everyone’s smiles.

“Everything?” you said with a mocking smile.

Finally, Derek, with an air of triumph, approached the two of you and announced loudly, “And that’s how it’s done, ladies and gentlemen! Our boy has become quite the man.” The office was filled with laughter and jokes as you and Spencer exchanged glances that were somewhere between nervous and amused.

Emily approached you and, not missing the opportunity, added, “So… how long did you think you were going to last without us finding out? A day, maybe two?”

You bit your lip, embarrassed, and looked at Spencer, who didn’t know whether to laugh or faint. In the end, there wasn’t much else to say.

JJ laughed, giving you a gentle shove. “Relax, Y/N. We knew before you guys realized it. We were just waiting to see how long it would take you to admit it.”

You and Spencer exchanged a resigned look. Maybe their “secret” hadn’t been so secret after all.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

[shmpxx]

HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o

⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader

How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.

cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.

You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.

You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.

Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.

“Can we just take a moment—“

“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.

The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.

He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.

“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.

“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.

The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.

“Alright i get it—“

He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.

“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.

And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.

You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.

Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.

“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.

“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.

The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.

Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.

Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.

[finelinefae]

birdy [Pilot!harry x teacher!y/n]

synopsis: it’s the 1950s. harry's had a hard life and y/n just wants the truth

word count: 12.3k

contains: fluff, angst, childhood trauma, nightmares, abusive father, neglectful parents, grovelling, smut (size kink, tiny praise kink, breeding kink, oral m receiving)

this is part 3 of the aviator read part 2 here

this could have gone one of two ways...

. . .

Y/N was convinced that returning to the airbase took only half as much time as the journey to reach the campsite. She hated hiking, even more so after this trip, but she had places to be so she charged down the trail all the way back to the airbase. The clouds overhead seemed to mirror her anger, morphing into shades of grey, empathising with her mood. 

“Y/N, Harry went back earlier this morning. We came back from the bonfire and he was hyperventilating and shit. Thought he was gonna pass out so me and Pat went to get him some water but when we got back he was gone.” Sonny had told her when she had asked why Harry was missing. 

Y/N’s mind instantly went to the night she had woken up to one of Harry’s nightmares. She wondered whether or not that had something to do with his sudden disappearance. However, it didn't seem to cool the anger she felt that seemingly continued to grow with every fueled step she took back towards Offutt. 

As she made it out of the clearing, she noticed a figure sitting under a tree in the distance. She paused, squinting her eyes and immediately recognising those broad shoulders and that head full of brunette curls. Now that she could finally see him, she wondered if it would be better to just let him sit and wallow in whatever guilt he may or may not be feeling but she considered confronting things like this as self-care and she wouldn’t allow herself to return home without knowing why she had woken up alone this morning. 

She ignored the droplets of rain that began to fall slowly from the sky. Instead, she trudged through the slightly muddy grass. Y/N caught his head turn as though he sensed her incoming. He shot up, standing tall and began to walk towards her. 

Harry couldn’t even react when he saw the anger radiating from her face. He knew what he had done and there was no good reason for it, “Y/N-”

When she was finally in front of him, Y/N took a deep breath to steady herself. “Don’t ever disrespect me like that again,” she said firmly, her voice carrying her emotions. Then, turning away, she began to walk away from him. 

She felt a hand wrap around her wrist but she tugged it, breaking free from his grip, “No,” She turned around to face him, “You walk away from me, I walk away from you.” It’s what she planned to do all along, make him realise how much it hurt to have someone turn their back on you.

Harry’s heart seemed to crack as her voice trembled, “Y/N,” 

“Why?” Her bottom lip wobbled but she held her breath, trying to be stronger than him, “Why would you do that? Y’know, I’ve put a lot of faith in you Harry, I trusted you. People labelled you so many things and I always backed you up but that was just…Mean. You are being mean.” 

“I know, I know,” Harry said, which only fuelled her anger even more. He had no idea what it felt like to wake up alone, especially after admitting something so honest. 

“You have no idea,” Her voice raised, “You have no idea what that felt like because you will always be the person who leaves.” 

Harry couldn’t seem to find the words. She was right and finally seeing him how he saw himself. There was nothing good about him and he had been told that his entire life by all the people he cared about. Everything he loved as a child was taken away from him with claw marks all over them. He had been forced to grow up, leave home and raise three kids. He knew one day that they too would be taken away from him- they’d find better people, a happier life -  and he would be left with nothing because it was all that he had known and all that he had deserved. 

Y/N couldn’t seem to fathom how he stood there in complete silence. The silence seemed to birth a new feeling inside her, another seed planted in her slow-burning heartbreak. 

Until His voice murmured something, barely audible to her ear, "It was you."

She stilled, “What?” 

His head lifted and she finally got to see him through the fog of anger. His cheeks were tear stained, his eyes red-rimmed and tired like he had barely slept. His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through them one too many times. “In my nightmare, it was you.” He confessed. 

Y/N was struggling to breathe, “What are you talking about?” She whispered, her eyes glassy.

“I haven’t experienced it that way in so long, I-I thought I was okay now.” Harry's chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“What did they do to you?” Y/N took a step forward. 

“I thought I was at home. I-I was in my room in my own body and my pops was there sitting in his armchair. He wouldn’t stop laughing at me and then I looked down and saw y’ on the floor,” Harry inhaled sharply like he was picturing the moment as he was re-calling it, “I tried to wake y’ up but you wouldn’t reply, y’ wouldn’t wake up and he was just sat there laughing and laughing. I was calling for help but no one could hear me and t-then he started saying I did it.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back her tears anymore as Harry began to cry. She wanted to reach out for him, to remove every bad thing that had ever happened to him and replace them with good. 

“He said it was me who hurt you,” He cried, “I tried to save you Y/N but I couldn’t and he was just laughing.” 

“Harry,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his hand and feeling him grip her fingers so tightly she thought it would cut off the circulation.

“I woke up outside,” He murmured, sniffling, “I was sitting out somewhere in the morning and Sonny and Patsy found me. I could hardly catch m’breath and they went off to get something that’d help but I was too ashamed. I couldn’t face them and I couldn’t face you either.” 

"Why?" Y/N couldn't help but ask, despite all the times she had promised him she would be there for him.

Harry's gaze fell to the ground as he struggled to find the words. “Because,” He huffed, trying to smile but he just looked broken, “What’s a girl like you doing with someone like me? God, I love you so much Y/N. I’ve never loved anybody in m’ whole life and the only thing I know about it is that y’ give the people y’ love what they are most deserving of and you deserve so much more than what I can give.” 

Y/N’s lips parted but he continued, “I have nothing. I am nobody. Outside of this place, I have nothing. I come from a family of nobodies and you…you are everything.” 

Y/N’s heart ached with every word he spoke and the vulnerability and pain on his face. She felt as though he was cutting himself open and he had nothing more he could hide away from her, “Harry, you are changing that.” She whispered, her voice filled with conviction.

He frowned, puzzled by her words, uncertain of their meaning. “The way you are with your brothers and Elise, what you’ve given them, it is the biggest example of love I have ever seen. This life you’ve shown them here comes from your love Harry.” She said, a smile breaking through her tears as his expression softened. She reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand, “I don’t want you to give me something better, I want you to give me you and the love I have seen you give to the people you care about. And I want to give you love too because I love you more than words can even comprehend and you are so deserving of it.” 

Harry’s eyes close softly as if he can’t quite believe the words he’s hearing and he’s trying to absorb it all. Y/N pulls his head down so their foreheads are pressed against each other, “Maybe you thought you had nothing but you always had love and if this is your nothing then I want all of it. That is what I want you to give to me.” She whispers. 

There's a pause, a moment of silent understanding between them, as Harry processes her words. His eyes slowly flutter open, revealing a depth of emotion that takes her breath away. She sees in his gaze a mixture of disbelief and gratitude as if her words have unlocked something within him that he never thought possible.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Harry's hands find their way to her face, his touch gentle yet firm. It's as if he's trying to memorise every contour, every line, every curve as if he's afraid that this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

"There is nothing in this world that means more to me than you," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Thank you," he adds, his words filled with sincerity and love.

Y/N smiles softly, her eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. "That's okay," she says gently.

The rain pours around them as they stand underneath the shelter of the tree. Harry doesn’t even ask for permission, too eager to, as he presses his lips to hers. Y/N squeaks in surprise but melts into him when she allows herself to feel all the things he can’t communicate, put into every motion of his lips.

Harry feels new like the burden of his childhood is eased from his shoulders as the light from her kiss injects itself into his body. He wonders how he could ever allow himself to walk away from this, “I’m so sorry Y/N.” He says against her lips, “I love you, I’m sorry.” 

Y/N sighs, “We’ll learn,” She says, “We’ll get better and we’ll both learn.” 

It’s more than just words of forgiveness, it’s a promise and the start of something new. 

When they finish kissing, they both look up at the sky and see how hard the rain is pouring, “I think I’m over this trip now.” Y/N sighs, “I don’t think I ever want to go camping again.”

“Oh c’mon it was fun,” Harry teases with a sniffle but then sees her deadpan expression, “Okay it could have been better but at least we’re together now.” 

Y/N takes her hand away from him and crosses her arms, “Who decided that?” 

Harry’s face drops, “I-I thought-.” 

She quirks a brow, “I haven’t forgiven you for leaving me yet. That was just cruel and you should know better!”

Harry looked at her apologetically “I know baby-“ He reached for her hand but she swiftly moved away, stepping out into the rain and walking back towards the trail. 

“I won’t be letting you off so easily.” Harry’s shoulders slumped as he stayed glued to the floor, watching her walk away from him. 

He tried not to smile as she stumbled over the uneven ground, her clothes getting wet from the rain. He cupped his mouth and yelled, “But y’ still love me right?” 

“Of course I do you idiot!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Harry smiled, “I love you too, bigger than the whole sky Y/N.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N yelled, “Prove it!”

Harry chuckled, running over to join her in the rain. 

. . .

To grovel actually meant to get down on your knees and beg for not only days but weeks in Y/N’s books which Harry had gradually come to realise. 

They returned from the airbase before everybody else and arrived at Y/N’s house to shower. Harry had tried to persuade Y/N to shower with him, using the classic excuse of ‘it’ll save water’ but she was too smart for that and he knew better. 

Soon, life resumed its usual rhythm after the camping trip, but there was a noticeable change in Y/N and Harry. Others noticed the absence of tension between them, seeing the love reflected in their gazes whenever they looked at each other. However, they couldn't understand why Y/N refused to acknowledge their relationship, or why Harry seemed so smitten and eager- all of a sudden walking around like he was a lovesick puppy in need of attention. 

Every day Harry would be doing something for Y/N, whether it was buying her flowers at the start of every week or walking her home during his work breaks. He’d rarely ever be seen with another woman, let alone make eye contact with them, all because he was desperate to make it up to the only woman he’d ever want for the rest of his life. 

“Y/N,” Francine, one of the nursery workers, called her name as she was washing up paint pots in the sink, “He’s here for you.”

Y/N tried to hide her smile, “Could you tell him to wait please Fran?” 

Soon Fran returned and in her arms was a giant bouquet, “He couldn’t stay very long,” She handed Y/N the roses, “But he told me to give you these.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands still dripping wet as she held the red roses in her arms. She placed them on the countertop and took out the card attached to the bouquet. ‘I love you bigger than the whole sky, your Harry.’ 

Y/N bit down on her lip as she folded the small piece of paper and slid it into the front pocket of her apron. “When’s that boy gonna put a ring on y’ finger?” Loretta, one of the older nursery workers asked. 

Y/N scoffed, “Only if he can get near my hand first, Loretta.” 

Although marriage would definitely not be happening anytime soon, the picture of it in her mind made her smile. 

In the evening, Y/N had been enjoying some much-needed girl time with Molly and Patsy. Y/N hadn’t seen Nancy since the night of the bonfire. She was rarely ever home to the point where the girls wondered why she even bothered renting her room out for much longer. 

They sat around the living room in pink robes, watching a movie and reading magazines. It had been a while since Y/N had had some downtime with her housemates. So much of her time had been either working or being trapped in the whirlwind that was her relationship with Harry. 

“Can I have some of that?” Patsy asked, unable to keep her eyes off the television as she held her hand out for the bottle of wine. 

Molly passed it over but her eyes narrowed on Patsy, “Is that Sonny’s sweatshirt you’re wearing under that?” 

Patsy finally looked away, her mouth opening and closing, “N-no?” She lied, terribly. 

“Did you sleep with him?” Molly questioned.

Patsy swallowed, “No…maybe…yes.” 

Patsy's feeble attempt at denial only made Y/N and Molly laugh harder. Y/N struggled to stifle her giggles, while Molly's laughter rang out loud and clear.

"And? How was it?” Molly urged, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Patsy’s face flushed bright red, “It was good.”

“That’s it?” Molly frowned.

“Fine,” Patsy’s shoulders slumped, “It was wonderful, Mol. The best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying,” 

“It’s true!” Patsy exclaimed, “There’s just something about ‘em, right Y/N? You slept with Harry already didn’t you?”

Y/N’s smile fell from her face, “Huh?”

Molly smirked, “Now you definitely cannot lie about that. Everyone knows it.”

Y/N's smile faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean, everyone knows?"

Molly's smirk widened. "Come on, Y/N. It's written all over your face. You've got that look all the girls have, you know the one where they lie about being with someone when it’s clearly not the truth."

Y/N's cheeks flushed as realisation dawned on her. "Oh," she murmured, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"So, spill it," Molly urged, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Have you?"

“I don’t know…Maybe,” She could feel the corner of her lips tugging upwards and her hands quickly shot up to cover her face.

Her two housemates squealed, jumping up from the couch with excitement, “You have?” Molly grinned. 

“Yes!” Y/N laughed. 

“Tell us all about it!” Patsy fell to the floor and leaned in towards her. 

“O-Oh, I-” But as luck would have it, Y/N was interrupted by the doorbell ringing and then the door swinging open. 

“Patsy?” Sonny’s voice rang down the hallway as he invited himself in again. 

Molly rolled her eyes, annoyed, “What is it?”

Footsteps sounded against the hardwood floors as Sonny entered the living room. His eyes landed on the girls as they sat on the floor, “What are you doing?”

"What does it look like we're doing?" Molly retorted, crossing her arms defensively.

"Can I join in?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Patsy groaned, "Just tell us what you want, already."

“Oh,” Sonny shook his head as if reminding himself why he was here, “Elise is sick,”

Y/N stood up, “What? How sick?”

“George has had to bath her four times already and Harry can’t seem to get her to sleep. It’s manic in that house, y’ gotta help us out.” Sonny begged. 

"But it's girl's night," Molly said firmly, gesturing toward the girls in their gowns. "And we're not your nurses or your babysitters."

"Please?" Sonny's eyes pleaded, darting towards Y/N.

Y/N sighed, relenting. "Fine. Let me get dressed." She manoeuvred past the girls seated on the floor and headed upstairs to her room to change.

“What? Patsy, y’ can’t be serious?” Molly whined. 

“It’s Elise and Sonny’s sister.” Patsy shrugged as though it was reason enough. 

Molly huffed, knowing no matter what she said it wouldn’t be enough to persuade them to help a sick child. The girl’s night they had planned would just have to be put on hold,  “Alright,” She conceded. 

Sonny led the girls across the estate to the Styles’ household. Along the way, Y/N and Molly teased Patsy and Sonny when they noticed them holding hands inside the pocket of Sonny’s aviator coat. The closer they got to the house, the more they could hear Elise wailing from inside. 

He swung the door open, the girls following behind, “I’m back!” Sonny called as they entered the kitchen, “I bought reinforcements.”

Harry turned around when they all stepped into the room. He was shirtless, holding onto a crying Elise, her little face all scrunched up and red. His eyes immediately gravitated towards Y/N, “You’re here,” He sighed as if the sight of her had alleviated some of the stress he was feeling. 

Y/N walked straight up to him and took Elise out of his grip, “M here,” She sighed, “Oh sweet girl, it’s okay,” Y/N kissed the side of the two-year-olds head, swaying her side to side in her arms. 

“She’s been sick all afternoon, must have got it off some kid at the nursery.” Harry exclaimed, his eyes tired from taking care of his sister and being at work all day, “I’ve tried everything. Normally singing her to sleep helps but she won’t seem to settle and I’m all out of ideas.”

“Hey,” Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling his warm skin, “It’s okay, we’re here to help you.”

He relaxed beneath her touch, the sentiment making him smile, “Y’ don’t have to,” Harry murmured. 

“Harry,” Y/N gave him a stern glare, “I want to.” 

His lips curved into a grateful smile as he nodded. "Thank you."

Y/N was so ensnared by his captivating eyes she had to force herself to look away, “Go shower. We’ll clean up down here.” 

Harry saluted playfully, brushing past her but not before pressing a hasty kiss to her cheek. Y/N gasped, spinning around and seeing a hint of a smirk on his face as he ran up the stairs.

“Ha Ha,” Elise croaked, pointing at her brother. 

Y/N’s expression softened at the little girl’s tired voice, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As Sonny and Patsy helped clean the kitchen, Molly made a start on dinner and George and Y/N bathed Elise in the kitchen sink. Although Elise was exhausted from being sick all afternoon, everyone went about their chores whilst trying to bring a smile to her face. Whenever she giggled at George and Sonny's antics or Patsy's playful arguing with Sonny whenever he attempted to flirt with her, the group would cheer from their achievement at making her laugh. 

Once they’d put all the dishes on the table, Harry had come down from his shower. Y/N drew in a breath when he walked through the door with damp curls and a towel around his waist, “Jus’ need to grab something,” He smirked as he walked past Y/N who caught the smell of his coconut shampoo. 

As Y/N stood at the kitchen sink to get rid of Elise’s bath water, she felt his solid form come up behind her. Her lips parted, a breath of air escaping her, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. With his other arm, he reached out, his hand still resting on her shoulder, to open the cupboard above her and pulled out a clean hand towel.

The warmth spreading through her body dissolved once he pulled away. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she heard his feet against the floor fade as he left the room. 

To her side, Molly and Patsy were trying not to laugh as they covered their mouths and tried to resume what they had previously been talking about before they were briefly interrupted. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to the table to begin plating up dinner for everybody. 

Harry had returned from his shower and now sat at the end of the table with Y/N to his right and Elise beside her sitting in a high chair. She was nibbling at the food George had prepped for her, taking small bites when she felt like it.

Everyone tucked into their meal as a smooth jazz record lulled in the background. Suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, George piped up, “So is everyone dating at this table?” 

Sonny groaned, “Why’d you bring that up?”

“Because!” George paused, cutting into his meat, “I can’t handle the tension in this room, it’s like you all want to have sex with each other.” 

“George don’t be so vulgar,” Molly snapped, her tone sharp, “But he does have a point.” 

“Well Patsy and I are together,” Sonny put an arm around Patsy’s shoulders only to receive an angry glare in return, “What?” He took his arm back, “They already figured it out!”

“Well, what about Y/N and Harry,” Patsy crossed her arms, wanting to divert the attention to something else, all heads turning to face the couple at the end of the table.

“Well, I-I-“ Y/N was all flustered, not knowing how to approach the subject until Harry stepped in.

“It’s up to Y/N,” Harry shrugged, taking a bite from his fork. Y/N’s head whipped in his direction, “I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.” 

As he spoke the words, she felt his hand land on her thigh. Y/N stilled as he squeezed her knee but instead of freezing like she always seemed to do with him, she placed her hand on top of his and flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers wanting to show him at least some grace for his ability to speak when she couldn’t find the words. 

“Well good for Y/N. You see not all girls are easily swayed by you boys, you know.” Molly remarked.

“Ahh are you sure about that Mol? Maybe it’s just because you’re the only girl here who hasn’t tried to sleep with any of us.” George quipped with a teasing grin. 

Molly scowled, “Don’t you have to follow Nancy around or something?”

Sonny burst out laughing as George’s face fell, “Yeah yeah, you can all laugh but the other day I swear I almost got a smile outta her.” 

“Oh nice, an almost smile yeah that’s really great George.” Everyone laughed around the table.

By the time dinner was over and everyone had been ridiculed at least once, Elise was already half asleep. Harry volunteered to tuck her in, lifting her gently and carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. As the others stepped outside for a smoke break, Y/N took it upon herself to clear the empty plates and tidy up.

Before tidying, Y/N went upstairs to use the bathroom. As she climbed the steps, she noticed a partially open door. Intrigued by the humming coming from the room, she quietly peeked inside.

It was dark other than a small candle lit up in the corner of the room. Harry stood by the window with Elise in his arms. Her cheek was resting on his shoulder as her small hands fisted the sleeve of his shirt. His big hand rubbed up and down her tiny back as her eyes fluttered open and closed. She almost resembled a cherub resting on a fluffy cloud as Harry hummed her to sleep, his head turning an inch to press a soft kiss to the side of her head. 

Y/N's eyes glistened with an emotion she couldn't quite place. Her heart felt like it was trying to leap out of her chest and walk into the room to join them. The longer she stayed fixed on the two siblings, alone in one space, it seemed as if they were the only two people existing, if only for a brief moment in time.

Not wanting to disturb their peace and quiet, Y/N carefully tiptoed away from them to give them the space they needed. 

She stood at the kitchen sink and began filling it with water and soap. Her mind drifted to the image of Harry holding Elise almost as if he were her own father. Y/N’s heart had been hurting for Harry and his siblings ever since he had broken down to her on the hill. A part of her wondered if she was doing all this because she felt she had to fulfil some kind of duty to them but it never felt like work helping the Styles’ siblings, she just had a spot for them in her heart that was growing exponentially by the day. 

Y/N felt that presence that had become so familiar to her, come up behind her as she cleaned the dishes. His arms snaked around her waist, swaying them slowly to the gentle bossa nova that played over the record player, “Dance with me,” He murmured, pulling her away from the sink. 

Y/N laughed, spinning around in his arms and pressing her wet and soapy hands to his face. Harry’s face scrunches, “Have I told y’ I love y’ today?” He asked, nuzzling his cheek in her palm. 

“Hmm,” Y/N pretended to think, “I don’t think so.”

“Well I do,” He says, “I love you bigger than the whole sky, Birdy.” 

“I love you too,” Y/N replies because she always will no matter how angry she is or was with him. 

“Enough to forgive me?” He tries but his face already says he knows the answer. 

Y/N inches forward, her lips brushing his, “Almost,” 

Harry grins, pulling her in closer, “This could be our life y’know.” 

“What could?” 

“All this,” He motions to the house, “We have our own house and make our own food. Everyone is safe and we’re happy. Maybe have a couple of kids-”

Y/N scoffs, “A couple?” 

“Alright,” Harry chuckles, his head falling back, “One, five, eight or even zero, I don’t care I jus’ wanna be with you.” 

“That sounds nice,” Y/N sighed, falling in love with the image she had painted in her mind, “And we’d live here?” 

Harry kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on it as they swayed, “We can live wherever y’ want Birdy, I go where you go.” 

Y/N can’t help but pull his neck down to kiss her. Even though they weren’t exactly together, Y/N couldn’t help but kiss him when she wanted to, which was more often than it wasn’t. She’d never tire of the way his lips felt against hers, how she’d melt in his embrace and feel his heart beating against his chest. 

“Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean we’re together,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“I know Birdy, I know.” He smiles, kissing her even harder.

Harry ends up helping Y/N clean the kitchen, drying the dishes while she washes them. It's a new experience for him, doing something domestic with the person he loves. It feels small and simple yet meant more to him than he could seem to understand.

“Since I’m tryin’ to be better, I gotta tell y’ something,” Harry pinches her sleeve, needing to touch her in some way at all times.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, immediately beginning to worry. 

“Oh no it’s nothing so bad, it’s just my Mama sent us a letter a few weeks ago and I think ‘m gonna go visit her without the boys.” He shrugs, “Jus’ to check in on her y’ know?” 

Y/N knew Harry didn’t want to admit the truth about his visit. Despite the fact he never had a close relationship with his mother, he had always been her protector. Harry couldn’t stay away from his home no matter how hard he tried, too afraid that if he did, something detrimental would happen and he’d feel nothing but guilt for the rest of his life. 

“On your own?” Y/N frowned, “Y’ don’t even want George to come with you?”

“If George goes he’ll jus’ get upset. I probably won’t even tell ‘em I’m going, I jus’ wanna make sure everything is okay. Maybe if I show m’ face she’ll stop sending so many letters every weekend.” His voice carried a mix of concern and weariness.

“Well okay,” Y/N paused for a brief second, “I mean I could come with you, maybe, i-if that’s something you’d want.”

Fear flashed in Harry’s eyes, “No,” He stated firmly, “I’m not letting you anywhere near that old bastard.”

Y/N knew he was referring to his father, “I won’t let you go alone, Harry. It’s either me or one of your brother’s but I will not let you go into that house by yourself.” She wasn’t going to lie and say that she wasn’t afraid for him. She’d never met his Father or truly knew the depths to which he had gone into causing such trauma for Harry but she wasn’t going to allow it to continue. “Please, let me come with you.”

Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject her offer but paused, considering her words carefully. He saw the determination in her eyes, the fierce loyalty she held for him, and it touched something deep within him. He also knew she was stubborn and wouldn’t let up over something like this no matter how much he refused. 

After a moment of silence, he sighed, relenting. "Alright," he finally murmured, his voice laced with apprehension. "But promise me, Y/N, you'll stay close and keep your guard up. My old man... he's not an easy man to deal with. We’ll be in and out of tha’ house all in the same day.”

Y/N nodded solemnly, her resolve unwavering, “Thank you,” She said. 

. . .

With the days that passed before Harry would return to his childhood town, his fear and anxiety seemed to grow. His nightmares had continued to worsen, each one of them had turned into one about Y/N. On the nights when Y/N slept in her own bed, he found himself walking through the dimmed streets in the middle of the night to sneak into her house and crawl under the covers with her. She’d whisper soft things into his ear, promising that everything he dreamt of was simply just that, but he struggled to believe her as he held her tightly in his arms until the morning arrived. 

They took the two-hour train from the station to his home town in Wyoming on the day of the visit. Harry barely spoke a word as he held Y/N’s hand in his lap all the way there. They had decided on wearing somewhat fancy attire. Harry wore tailored trousers with a belt and a white shirt tucked into it, whilst Y/N settled on a new blouse she had yet to wear and a long skirt with kitten heels. They hadn’t spoken it aloud but part of them wanted to show without telling his parents just how well they were doing for themselves. 

“Baby,” Harry whispered, nudging Y/N awake after she dozed off on his shoulder, “We’re here now,” 

Y/N hummed, her eyes fluttering open to the window. Outside was the train station which was really just a raised platform by the train tracks with a small ticket booth nearby. The place was almost deserted, with only a few people stepping off as the train pulled in. Harry grabbed her purse and held Y/N’s hand as they exited the train and stepped onto the platform. It wasn’t long before the train was off again, leaving a bellow of smoke behind. 

Glancing around, Y/N noticed how grey Harry’s hometown was. The buildings seemed weathered, and besides the train station, there wasn't much else to see—just a row of buildings housing a grocery store, a clothing shop, and a bank. Everything became increasingly sparse and lifeless the further out of town you ventured, and Harry’s house just so happened to be situated on the outskirts. 

When they left the train station, Harry walked to a cab that was already parked outside with no other customers. He opened the door for Y/N to enter first, “Are you okay?” Y/N asked, sensing Harry’s discomfort.

“Y’ know there’s nothing more I wanna do than take y’ back to Offutt right?” His eyes were hard as he stared between the two front seats out of the windshield of the beaten-up vehicle. 

"I know," Y/N's voice was quiet, a hint of uncertainty creeping in as she wondered if she had pushed too far by insisting on accompanying him. However, before she could dwell on her thoughts further, he picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to it, reassuring her without words.

Y/N tried not to react too shocked when the vehicle stopped far outside of the town they had entered. In front of them was a house that looked as though it was made out of planks of wood hammered together. There was a front porch with a rocking chair that was rotting away and a clothesline with white sheets blowing in the breeze. 

“This is your home?” Y/N wondered, looping her arm with Harry’s when he came up beside her. 

“It’s never been m’home,” He replied, lowly. 

As they approached the front door, it creaked open before they could even knock. Standing behind it was a woman with the same green eyes Y/N had noticed in each of her children. Her hair was wispy and greying, with streaks of brunette that were a darker shade than Harry’s. She had heavy bags under her eyes and wrinkles all over her face. Her thin lips turned into a smile, her eyes watering as she opened her arms to the man beside Y/N, “My boy,” She croaked. 

Harry stiffened when he felt her arms wrap around him, “Mom,” He grumbled. 

The woman pulled away and then her eyes turned to Y/N, her smile drooping, “Who’s this?”

Harry opened his mouth to introduce herself but Y/N quickly stepped in, “I’m a friend of your son, we met on the Airbase.” She held her hand out.

Harry’s mother looked down at her hand and then back to Harry, “You’re bringing girls home now? Where are your brothers?” 

Harry’s jaw tightened, “They’re not here.”

“And Elise?” She went on. 

“She’s back home,” 

“This is her home,” His mother argued, “And I’m her mother,”

“We won’t be staying here for long,” Harry said, moving past his mother and stepping into the house. Y/N tried to offer his mother a smile but she just frowned. 

The inside of Harry’s childhood home was cold and empty, lacking any hint of life or sign of a whole family living here for well over ten years. Bits of furniture littered the house here and there, each individual piece looked battered and beaten. 

“Are you staying for dinner at least Harry? I’ve been cooking all afternoon,” His mother walked to the small kitchen and started stirring a pot that was already cooking on the stove.

Harry looked down at Y/N, “We can stay,” She told him even though she knew he didn’t like the idea, she didn’t want to let his mother’s cooking go to waste. 

“M taking Y/N to m’ room,” Harry grumbled, unwilling to wait for his mother to say anything. 

Y/N followed him to a small room near the living room. It was no bigger than an average old pantry, containing only a small, single bed and a little chair and table tucked into the corner. Above the bed hung a mobile adorned with wooden planes painted blue, dangling gently. Y/N reached out and held one of the jagged wooden planes in her palm.

The corners of her lips turned upwards as she examined it, wondering if Harry’s love for planes stemmed from a young age. Turning round to face him, she fell back onto his bed and sighed, “Come lay with me,” Her hand dangled from the bed, her fingers reaching out to brush his. 

Harry shook his head but fell onto the bed beside her, his feet dangling off the end. It was so small that Y/N had to practically lay on top of him, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up at him. She brushed some of his hair out of his face, “How are you feeling?” She checked in. 

“Strange,” He murmurs, “Seeing you in this house made me realise how foreign this place is to me now. You’re home and this is just… Something I don’t want in my life anymore.” 

Y/N’s gaze softens, “Your mom never told me her name, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Harry’s hand slides up her back to play with the ends of her hair, “She doesn’t like anyone really but her name’s Debbie if y’ must know.”

“Debbie,” Y/N replies, her voice soft, “Hey, if things get uncomfortable we can go, just say the word.”

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude at her calming, understanding nature, “Thank you for being here.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Y/N teased and Harry laughed, the sound echoing in the darkened room of his childhood. 

Despite Debbie’s cold attitude towards her, Y/N still tried to make an effort by helping set the table for dinner. In the corner of her eye, she caught Harry fussing over his mother when he saw her hands were all scathed from being outside every day as she poured stew into each bowl. The image made her eyes glisten with tears that threatened to fall until she blinked them away.

As they placed each bowl of stew on the table, a thud sounded from outside and then the squeak of the hinges on the front door as it swung open. Y/N’s heart stopped as Harry paced towards her, moving her behind him as an old man stumbled in. She grabbed Harry’s sleeve, peeking past him to see a man with hazel eyes and balding, grey hair. His face was wrinkled and scruffy, his nose red but his face gaunt. His footsteps were heavy against the wooden floorboards, with every inhale of his breath he seemed to suck out the warmth from the house. 

His eyes fell on Harry and then to Y/N, “Hello boy,” His voice sounded like gravel as he spoke. 

“Old man,” Harry’s voice was something Y/N had never heard from him before. It felt like he was trying to control all of his anger whilst also trying not to show his fear. She squeezed his arm a little, hoping it would give him some reassurance. 

“Nice to know you’ve remembered your family,” He sniffled, closing the door behind him. 

“Y’ make it hard to forget,” Harry replied. 

Debbie walked in between them like it was something she had done many times before whenever there was tension, “Jack, you’re  just in time for dinner.” She was much too cheery but it felt hollow and insincere, “Harry’s friend is joining us from that camp they’re staying at.” 

Jack glanced at Debbie with a flicker of annoyance before turning his attention back to Harry and Y/N. "Well, aren't we all just one big happy fuckin’ family," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N felt the tension in the room thicken, a silent battle unfolding between the family members. She exchanged a knowing glance with Harry, silently urging him to stay composed.

Ignoring Jack's jab, Debbie gestured towards the dining table. "Come on, let's sit down and eat. I've made your favourite, Jack," she said. 

Sitting at the table, Jack's presence felt heavy in the room. Y/N looked at Harry, silently showing her support. She knew dinner would be tricky, but she was committed to being there for Harry. She held his hand under the table and squeezed. Harry rubbed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist in order to relax himself. 

It was just dinner and they’d be going home straight afterwards. Home to his real family, where it was safe and he was most loved. 

Debbie came out of the kitchen with two cans of beer and placed them in front of Jack before sitting beside him. He cleared his throat as he opened both cans, “Where are y’ brothers?” 

“Not here,” Harry spoke, lowly.

“Don’t get funny with me boy, where are they?” 

“I already told you.” Y/N jumped when Jack’s hand smacked down on the table, Harry’s hand squeezing her in assurance like this was a normal reaction to have. 

“You’ve left y’ brothers at that camp and bought this random whore here?” He spat.

“Don’t call her that,” Harry said through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t even know her fuckin’ name and y’ bought her into my house?” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Y/N interrupted him, “My name is Y/N,” She said, her eyes hard, “And if that’s how you speak to someone you don’t know Mr Styles, I hate to see how you speak to those you do.” 

Y/N could feel all eyes on her at the dinner table but she ignored them, acting as though what she said didn’t matter, as she tucked into the stew that was in front of her. “Next time you come back here,” Jack gruffed, “Y’ bring your brother’s. Much prefer them here anyway.” 

This time it was Y/N’s turn to feel a bubble of anger rising within her, “Don’t want no more whores in my house, except y’ mother,” He chuckled, darkly, “She’s the only one allowed here.”

Harry shot up, his chair scraping against the floor, “How fuckin’ dare you,” He spat. 

“Sit down,” His Father ordered, refusing to look up at him. 

“Harry,” Debbie whispered, tugging on his hand to try and pull him down.

Reluctantly, Harry lowered himself to his seat. His jaw clenched as he stole a glance at Y/N, silently grateful for her unwavering support in the face of his family's hostility. He’d refuse to open his mouth for the rest of the dinner, in hopes it would speed things up and they could leave. He was filled with regret that he had allowed Y/N to come to this Hellscape, even more so for even considering it in the first place. 

It fell silent- nothing but the scraping of cutlery against plates- until Y/N decided to speak, her anger too much to withhold any longer, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me that Mr Styles,” Harry must have gotten whiplash from how quickly his head whipped around to look at Y/N as she spoke. 

“Say that again,” Jack replied, lowly.

“I said I would appreciate it if you’d stop calling me a whore, it’s rather distasteful.” Y/N dared to look up at him, meeting his lifeless eyes when she did. She felt Harry’s fingers squeeze hers but she refused to break eye contact with the only man who she had ever hated before even meeting him. 

“Distasteful? What are y’ a slut from Preston?” 

“No,” Y/N continued, “I’m not a whore or a slut from Preston and if you knew me or your own son, you’d know he wouldn’t dare bring someone with the likes of you home with him.”

Rage flashed in Jack’s eye, “Why you little-” 

Harry rose to his feet as Jack raised his hand in the air, bracing himself for the impending blow. But before Jack could strike, Y/N intervened. "The fact that you assume so little about me, Mr. Styles, is your first mistake," Y/N declared, her voice unwavering. "Truthfully, I know people. Put a hand on me, and I'll go straight to my father. He's a doctor, you see—a very important one who knows a lot of important people. One of his patients just so happens to be the Governor. Do you know the Governor, Mrs. Styles?" Y/N directed a smile at the timid lady sitting opposite her, who blinked in response and quickly nodded her head.

"As much as I hate throwing around big names, sometimes it pays to know people more powerful than those who assume they have it all," Y/N continued, her gaze steady on Jack. "Wouldn't you say, Mr. Styles?"

Y/N stood up from the table as Jack’s jaw clenched, biting his tongue to stop from speaking. She grabbed Harry’s hand and intertwined their fingers, “To answer your question, your sons are at Offutt Air Base not camp. It’s their home where their older brother raised them along with that little girl you both abandoned. You can assume I’m a whore or a slut or whatever you think I am however much you like Mr Styles but I will not let you sit there and strip all of the love your son has shown to your children when you weren’t willing to give them anything.” 

“Thank you for the dinner Mrs Styles but we’re leaving,” Y/N looked up at Harry who was already looking at her with nothing but pride all over his face, “I’m sorry Harry but I can’t stay here anymore.”

He nodded, following her out of the house but stopping when his father stood in front of him. Y/N gasped when Harry raised his arm and punched his father straight across the face. Jack groaned, cupping his nose as blood began to drip from it. Harry gripped his shirt in a fist, “Call my wife a whore again and I’ll fucking end you.” He spat, pushing him away. 

Y/N and Harry ignored his mother as she fretted about his now injured Father, walking out of the house. 

As soon as they stepped off the porch, Harry pulled Y/N to the side of the house where they were shielded from view and pressed her against the wall. His lips met hers eagerly, his hands cradling her face as her eyes fluttered shut. "You called me your wife," she breathed between kisses.

"Easy mistake," he replied quickly before his lips seeked hers once more. 

Once they pulled away, their chests heaving and Harry’s lips tinged pink from Y/N’s lipstick, the biggest grin stretched across his face, his eyes sparkling more than she had ever seen before, “I didn’t think I could love you any more than I did.”

Y/N’s eyes watered, a mixture of love and the come down from the adrenaline that had fueled her in the last few moments all began to hit her at once, “You are everything to me,” He murmured, “Everything.” 

"I love you too, Harry.” Y/N leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him and refusing to let go. 

After leaving the house, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted, as though a burdensome weed had been plucked from their lives. The air seemed lighter, and even the moon appeared to shine a bit brighter overhead. As they walked, Y/N couldn't help but notice the peace reflected in Harry's eyes whenever he glanced up at the sky.

Though it wasn't the end, it felt like the first step towards releasing the things that brought no good into Harry's life. With Harry's arm lazily draped over her shoulder and hers around his waist, they stumbled down the street, unable to find a taxi or any passing vehicles to take them back to the train station. To outsiders, they might have seemed like a drunken couple, but in reality, they were simply two people deeply in love and, for that moment, they felt truly free—and that feeling was even better.

They boarded the last train back to Offutt that night, and Harry was adamant about keeping Y/N close. Despite the empty carriage, he insisted she sit with him, to the point where she was practically sitting on his lap.

As Y/N grew tired, Harry allowed her to rest her head in his lap while she stretched out across the seats. He gently played with her hair and traced the contours of her face. "Can I show you something when we get back?" he whispered. Although exhausted, and longing to simply fall asleep with him in her bed, she nodded in agreement.

Y/N giggled as Harry skipped ahead, the smile on his face had yet to be replaced as he led her to the warehouses at the airbase. “C’mon slowpoke,” Harry called much too loudly for this time of night. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Y/N shook her head, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Keys jangled in his back pocket as he pulled out a chain that had too many keys for Y/N to count dangling from it. He plucked one out and put it into the padlock that was keeping a lock on the large, metal doors to one of the hangars where the planes were kept. 

The doors clanked open as Harry pulled them apart enough for them to walk through. The light from the moon slipped through the gap, creating a dim light within the hangar. Harry switched on the lights in the panel on the side and the whole room lit up. Y/N followed Harry as he took her to the back of the warehouse where some of the planes which needed fixing up were kept. 

He stopped in front of a single-engine propellor aeroplane, painted blue with white stripes. It had a cockpit with a glass canopy and seated two people inside. Y/N frowned, “Is this what you wanted to show me?” Living on an airbase, she’d obviously seen plenty of planes that were different variations of the one in front of her so she was unsure what she was meant to be looking at that had got Harry so excited.  

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. He came up behind her and placed both his hands over her eyes to cover them. She stumbled as he nudged her forwards towards the side of the plane, “We’ve been working on this for a while and me and the boys have been struggling to give it a name. It was only until I met you that I realised what the perfect name for it was.” Harry removed his hands from her eyes, Y/N’s eyes squinting to adjust to the light until they focused on a word written in yellow on the side of the plane. 

Birdy. 

Y/N’s lips parted, walking up to touch the yellow font to see if it was real. She turned on her heel, eyes watering, “You named a plane after me?”

Harry bit back a grin, eyes twinkling, “Of course I did,” He whispered, “Need you with me all the time, now I can have you in the air too.” 

“Oh Harry,” She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck, “It’s wonderful,” 

“Yeah? Y’ like it darling?” He kissed the top of her head. 

“I love it,” She sighed, her eyes darting to the cockpit, “Can we sit in it?”

“Course,” Harry helped her up the little ladder and into the cockpit, before sitting in the spot next to her. “The electrics aren’t on so if y’ touch anything it won’t move.” Y/N’s hands pressed some of the buttons, still unable to believe she had a plane named after her. 

Harry smiled watching her and then leaned in to kiss her. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Harry deepened it, his tongue sliding into her mouth and his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “Harry,” Y/N breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to kiss down her neck. 

“This is for you baby. There ain’t nobody else for me,” He whispered, “and I don’t want anybody else.” 

His fingers brushed down the skin of her arms as her head rolled to the side. He kissed the base of the column of her neck, “You love me?” He asks, voice raspy. 

“I do,” Y/N hums, her hands all over his clothed torso gripping the fabric in tight fists. 

“How much,” Y/N gasped as his fingers played with the buttons of her blouse before he slowly undid the first one. He pressed his lips to her collarbones as he continued on the next button. 

Y/N’s hands fell to the buckle of his belt, tugging on the metal to pull him closer. With every inch of skin that was revealed, Harry would place a small kiss there like he was worshipping every inch. Y/N could feel his breath fan over the top of her breasts as he got to the middle button, “C’mon baby, how much?” He taunted. 

His hand slid up her back under her shirt to the clasp of her bra, “Tell me how much y’ love me and I’ll make y’ feel good hmm? Is that what y’ want birdy?” 

Y/N nodded, “So much Harry, so much.”

“What?” Harry grinned, “Y’ love me so much or y’ want me so much?” 

“Both,” Y/N gasped, “Please,” 

Harry’s lips mould with hers as he uses both hands to remove her blouse, the buttons flying everywhere. Y/N’s hands fumble to remove his belt as Harry tugs his own shirt off hurriedly. His hands are hot against her body as he unclips the clasp of her bra, “So beautiful,” He says, in awe. 

Y/N’s cheeks heat at the compliment. His hand splays across her bag, his pinky finger digging into the hem of her skirt as he continues to kiss her deeply. “Harry, I-” Her face feels hot as she stops herself, feeling too embarrassed to ask the question.

“What is it darling?” He cups her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

She looks up at him, her eyes round and full of lust, she cups the bulge of his dick through his trousers in her hand, “Please?” She whines.

“Y’ wanna suck on m’ cock sweet girl?” He smirks, seeing her get all flustered as she nods quickly. She’s already trying to unbuckle his belt before he has time to say anything else. Her eyes widened when his cock springs out of his boxers, she still couldn’t get over how big he was as she wrapped two hands around the thick girth and pumped up and down. 

Harry groaned, feeling her hands wrapped around him. She pulled away to sit up on her knees in the seat, tucking her hair behind her ears and bending forward. Harry’s head falls back against the headrest as she puts one hand at the base of his cock and kisses the tip. “So big,” She murmurs. 

“Gonna take it in y’ pretty mouth baby?” Harry taunts in a playful tone.

Y/N sucks on the tip, her eyes closing as she tastes him for the first time. Gradually she takes him deeper, inch by inch, her tongue sliding against the thick vein of his cock as she does. “Good girl,” Harry praises her, grabbing her hair and holding it in a fist. 

She stops when the tip hits the back of her throat, using her hand to jerk off what she couldn’t take in her mouth. Harry groans when Y/N gags and pulls away to catch her breath, “Careful baby,” He squeezes her cheeks together and forces her to look at him. Seeing her red, glossy lips and hazy eyes, drool falling from the corner of her mouth from how big he was, almost made him cum right there. He wiped his thumb over her chin and kissed her, “Doing so good my girl,” He murmured against her lips. 

As she goes back to mouthing at his cock, he can’t help but run a hand down her back and squeeze her ass beneath her skirt. Y/N makes a sound that sends vibrations down his cock and he knew she’d have to stop before he came down her throat, “Need to be inside y’ baby,' ' Harry spoke. 

Y/N’s pops him out of her mouth, “Are y’ gonna fuck me now?” Her big doe eyes look up at him. She almost looked innocent if it weren’t for his cock in her fist. 

“Yeah darling girl, M gonna love on y’ now.” He tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

Y/N's hands tangled in his curls as she adjusted herself to lay back on the seats. Harry’s lips parted as he looked down at her, her chest heaving and her nipples pebbling under his gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, the glass canopy around them fogging up with their breaths. 

Harry swallowed, moving on top of her and holding himself up with his hands pressed into the plush seat beneath. Y/N’s legs parted for him to rest between them, her hands going to his back, fingers digging into the hard muscle. 

“Are y’ okay?” Harry murmured, brushing some of the hair from her face.

Y/N smiled, “I’m fine,” 

Y/N could feel his hardened length on the inside of her thigh as he pulled her skirt up and revealed her white panties. Harry tutted, “Did sucking me off make y’ this wet baby?” He asked, his fingers moving her panties to the side to reveal her dripping cunt. 

Harry’s fingers dipped between her folds, brushing over her clit to collect some of her wetness before smearing it all over her pussy. His hand travelled down, smearing her juices over the tip of his cock before he lined himself up with her. 

“Y’know, I don’t think I ever apologised properly for what I did that day,” He pressed open mouthed kisses a long her jawline as the tip of his cock teased her entrance, “What do y’ say darling girl? Y’gonna let me be good and fuck my apology into you?”

Y/N’s hips bucked into him, “Mhmm,” 

Looping her arms around his neck, Y/N’s lips parted as Harry eased himself into her. She was suddenly reminded of just how big he was as he moved further and further inside of her until he bottomed out and she could feel every inch of him as she clamped around him,  “S’ good,” She hummed, her eyes fluttering open and closed. 

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled, kissing her quickly, “M nice and snug? Can y’ feel me in y’ baby?”

Y/N nodded, grabbing his hand and spreading out his fingers to press them against her tummy, “Feel you here,” She sighed.

Harry kissed her forehead, “Y’ like that?” 

“The best,” She smiled, lazily. 

“Made just f’ me that’s why,” Harry smirked.

Slowly, Harry began to slide in and out of her, taking his time knowing this moment was different to their first time. It was softer- gentle even. Y/N whines, feeling all of him against the walls of her pussy. Harry groans when he sees her stomach bulge when he moves back in her - a sight he could never overcome no matter how hard he tried. 

“Y’ fucking perfect Y/N. Feels so good.” Harry’s voice wavered as he felt himself get lost in the feeling of her.

As his hips moved faster, the closer he was to his release. He held her hips, glancing down to see his cock moving in and out of her. He feels her pussy clenching tightly around him, signifying she was close to her release too. 

“Am I making my girl feel good? Hmmm?” He presses his nose against her cheek as her head falls to the side. “M’ best girl, lovin’ me the way you do, how’d I get so lucky?”  Y/N couldn’t seem to find the words to reply, her body writhing beneath him. 

Harry pressed his hand down on her tummy, the added pressure making her groan, “Y’ gonna have my babies in there one day?” 

“Yes,” Y/N gasps as he fucks her harder. 

“Yeah? Gonna have all my kids and be a pretty little housewife?” Y/N whimpers, her hands scratching down his back. “I love y’ so much.” He whispers. 

“Love you,” Y/N slurred. 

Harry’s hand begins to rub at her clit, the added sense of pleasure filling her entire body with heat that only continued to build the more he pumped his heavy dick inside of her. Y/N feverishly craned her neck to kiss him, needing that extra physical touch. 

“Y’ gonna let me cum in you, darling girl?” Harry murmured, his voice shaking. 

“Please cum in me Harry,” Y/N’s eyes blurred as the bubble of heat burst in her belly. 

With a final thrust, Harry released a heavy groan as his cock filled her insides with his cum. Y/N’s back arched into him as her breath caught in her throat, her eyes rolling back when she came around him at the same time. 

Harry fell on top of Y/N, his sweaty forehead against her chest. She lazily moved her hand to his hair, running her fingers through his soft curls. Harry puckered his lips to press a kiss right where her heart was beating erratically. 

A silence fell around them as they tried to catch their breaths, “Have y’ forgiven me yet?” Harry murmured, his hands tracing patterns on her hip.

"I think I forgave you ages ago; I just wanted to punish you a little," Y/N admitted, a truth she had realised for a while now.

"I deserved it," Harry agreed.

"You did," Y/N acknowledged.

“But I’ll be better. For you, I’ll be anything but I’ll always try to be better,” He looked up.

Y/N cupped his face, “I don’t need you to be anything but you.” 

Harry kissed her palm, “Thank you… For it all.”

. . .

“Are you nervous?” Patsy asked as the girls sat on top of the hill on a picnic blanket. 

“A little,” Y/N lied, she had hardly been able to sit still since this morning. 

“Hey,” Molly smoked a cigarette, “These boys have done this plenty of times, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I just hope it all goes well, they’ve been working months on this.” Y/N’s eyes darted around to see if she could spot him. 

Elise sat on the picnic blanket in a diaper, chewing on her fingers and making noises. Molly swooped her up in her arms as she stood, “What do you think Elise? Will your brothers actually do something smart?” Molly cooed. 

Patsy hit her shoulder lightly, “Don’t be so mean,” 

Y/N’s ears pricked as she heard the sound of an engine in the distance. She removed her sunglasses, trying to see where the source of the sound was coming from. “Look!” Patsy pointed towards the thing moving in the blue sky. 

Y/N’s caught sight of the blue plane flying in the air, if she squinted enough she could see the yellow spelling of her nickname on the side, “He’s there!” Y/N laughed in disbelief, “He’s there!”

The plane flew closer and Y/N could make out Harry sitting in the cockpit with George beside him. All the girls waved, Elise giggling as they jumped up and down. Y/N took her hat off and started waving it around to try and catch Harry’s attention.

His head turned and a huge grin spread across his face as he saw her wearing a red dress just like she had told him she would after he told her they’d be flight testing the plane again and he wanted her to be there to watch. 

“Will you be able to see me on the ground?” Y/N asked as she sat atop his worktop whilst he worked on the plane, her legs swinging backwards and forwards. 

“It depends on how close y’ are. I can’t really see that well when ‘m flying high up.” He tells her.

“Hmm,” Y/N thinks, “What if I wear something colourful? Will y’ be able to see me then?”

Harry bites back a smile, “Maybe,” He shrugs, coming up to stand between her legs. He leans forward to kiss her, “Why? Y’ planning on wearing something special for me Birdy?” 

Y/N bites her lip, her eyes sparkling, “Possibly.”

“C’mon,” Patsy snatched the blanket off the grass, “They’re going to land soon,”

The girls headed back to the runway where the plane would land. They could already see Sonny looking through his bicolours. Patsy waved, running towards him and falling into his arms. “Did y’ see?” He looked down at her, happiness all over his face. 

“It’s great baby,” Patsy kissed him. 

Y/N watched as the plane descended, growing bigger against the sky. With a rumble, the wheels made contact with the ground, the plane gradually slowing down as it ran down the runway. Everyone ran towards the plane as Harry lifted the glass chamber and hopped out with George coming round the other side.

Cheers sounded through the air from everybody. Harry’s eyes immediately met Y/N’s, his hands reaching out to catch her in his arms. She leapt into his embrace, moulding her lips against his, “That was incredible!” She squealed when they pulled away. 

“Yeah?” Harry was trying to remain calm but she could tell he was proud of what he and his brothers had achieved today, “Y’ proud of me?” 

“So unbelievably proud,” Y/N spoke, her eyes radiating the truth in her words. 

“Ha, Ha!” Elise squealed for her brother.

Harry’s smile widened into a grin as Molly placed Elise into his arms, “Did you see that Elise?” He kissed her chubby cheek, “Did y’ see your brother flying?” 

Elise just babbled in response. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Harry and Elise, joining in the embrace. At that moment, surrounded by the people he cared about most, Harry knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. With a contented smile, he squeezed Y/N's hand, silently thanking her for always believing in him.

“Hey have any of you seen-” George glanced around before his eyes landed on someone in the distance, “There she is,” He murmured to himself. 

Everyone watched as he ran towards a woman standing by the entrance of the warehouse, “Is that Nancy?” Molly held a hand over her eyes to block the sun so she could get a better look at them.

“Hey, I think it is,” Patsy agreed, her eyebrows furrowing. 

Y/N looked up at Harry who just shrugged. 

. . . 

The same evening, the Styles’ house was filled to the brim with people who had come over for their house party, celebrating the success of today. Elise was staying at a family’s house since the party would most definitely be going on well into the night. 

Y/N observed Harry from across the room as he engaged in conversation with his pilot friends as she sipped on a cocktail Patsy had given her. She had no idea what was in it but she drank it anyway, knowing it was probably better not to ask. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and a smile would pass between them as they communicated in a language only they knew. 

She noticed his lips were still tinged red from the lipstick she had kissed him with as they got ready for the house party. Y/N had offered to wipe it away for him but he liked the idea of people knowing he had been kissing you just by looking at the colour of his lips and yours.

Y/N’s heart felt so at peace as she glanced around the room and spotted each member of her found family. Her life had been so grey and mundane until she came to Offutt where everything changed and love had given her a whole new palette of colours. 

It had been hard and full of ups and downs but it was worth it, every second of time was worth it. 

She felt a presence come up beside her and turned expecting to see Molly or Patsy but was surprised to see Nancy standing there, leaning against the wall next to her. “It’s funny, I’ve been here longer than you and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look at somebody the way Harry looks at you.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, “Thank you? I’m not-”

“Listen,” Nancy turned to face her, “I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “W-what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” Nancy turned away again, “I was a bitch and I liked Harry but not for the same reasons you do. I should have stood up for you and him the night of the bonfire when that asshole came and spoke to you but once again I was a bitch and quite honestly I probably still am a bitch but I’ve met someone who I really like and I’m trying to be better.” 

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Nancy-”

“I totally get it if you hate me and I don’t expect to be friends with you but George is Harry’s brother so we’re probably going to be seeing more of each other and-”

“Nancy,” Y/N interrupted her rambling, “It’s okay,” 

Nancy’s shoulders dropped, “Really? You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve never hated you, I just haven’t particularly liked you but I think that could change if we truly got to know each other.” Y/N shrugged. 

Nancy's eyes widened with surprise, hope flickering in them. "You mean that?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Y/N nodded, offering a small smile. “If you're George’s sister then one day we might be sister-in-laws and that would make things awfully strange if we didn’t get on, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Nancy huffed, “Those boys sure do need a break from family drama. I mean there’s some serious daddy issues in that family.”

Y/N laughed, it was the first thing they both had ever agreed on, “You can say that again.”

Nancy's face lit up with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion, “I-I’ve never been good at having friends and I truly am sorry for being so horrible. If it helps, I guess you managed to prove me wrong, I think I even proved myself wrong with the way things are now.” 

Y/N reached out and squeezed Nancy's hand reassuringly, “It’s all okay.” 

Nancy and Y/N spoke for a little longer. Giggling as they compared their boyfriend’s habits with one another until George came over and whisked Nancy away. 

A hand snaked around Y/N’s waist, her gaze falling on those ring-clad fingers. She turned to look up at those beautiful, green eyes, “Hi Harry,” 

“Hi Birdy,” He whispered, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and then back up again. “Y making friends?”

“I’m trying,” She grinned. 

“Good to know,” He smirked and then held out his hand, sliding his fingers to thread with hers, “Y wanna dance with me?” 

“M not very good you know,” She had told him plenty of times before.

“S just swaying,” He repeated the words he said to her the first time they danced together. 

Y/N laughed softly as Harry pulled her closer, their bodies swaying gently to the smooth jazz music filling the room. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, Y/N relaxed into his embrace, letting the music wash over them. In that moment, as they moved together, there was nowhere else she'd rather be than in the arms of the pilot she pictured spending the rest of her life with. 

"What are you thinking in there?" Harry tapped the side of her head with the pad of his finger.

Y/N hummed, "I'm just happy,"

"Yeah? You are?"

"Yeah," Y/N sighed, resting her head against his heart, “I love you, Harry, so much,” Y/N murmured. 

“I love you too Birdy,” Harry leaned down to brush his lips with hers, “Bigger than the whole sky.”

taglist:

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[2-dsimp]

The monster boys x darling but darling hates the smell of musk and bathes regularly and perfumes to hide it when they're around them

[Yandere! Dolphin gang, remarking you!]

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Cw: MDNI NSFW Fem reader! threesome f/m/m, cum marking, breeding, degradation, praise, hybrids, creampies, overstimulation, slight mention of marathon sex, deepthroating, NONCON, coercion, Stockholm syndrome, dark content, objectification, Ft Qao & Linov

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

“Oya? Honeybun why do you smell so underdressed?” Qao hummed, circling you like a curious seal within the ocean's currents.

He was the youngest in the bully pod of dolphins who practically gave you Stockholm syndrome. Stealing you away from your life as you knew it and keeping you as their prized plaything.

Linov, lazily rolled off the seabed, being disturbed out of his light nap from Qao’s seemingly dumb observation. “Man is your sense of smell failing you. Eashe and Gaeju always mark er up fore they leave on business.”

The lanky dolphin hybrid casually placed his webbed hands on Qao’s face, pushing him out of the picture.

Linov received an annoyed click from the young-in sent a drift within the sea currents. But he didn’t care as he curled his lean arms around your waist. Nosing deep into your scent glands.

“How is she not gonna reek of those muscle brained idiots— “After a couple of deep inhales of your enticing scent.

He noticed that you were in fact free from their heavy distinct musky scent. “Oh? Miracles do happen; you’re actually right for once doofus. “

You got nervous, the predatory look both of your captors gave you was downright ravenous.

After keeping the company of the dolphin pods leader and enforcer. Normally you’d get a grace period to relax and cleanse yourself from the nauseating musk from those two alone.

So, you hadn’t expected Linov and Qao’s hasty arrival at all. But could you blame them?

The 3rd and 4th members were so eager to see their adorable darling after all the effort. They put into claiming more territory through honest work of Instigating fights within gangs, doing ground work intel, and blackmailing.

“Seems like you’ve been up to no good again huh babe. Care to explain? “Linov purred, he was happy to not those other two bastards on you. Their spicy sharp musk was too strong for his liking.

“I—I’m sorry I wanted to freshen up. Before you two got here” You lied, trying to appeal towards them, if only to avoid any hard punishments. You were already so throughly used by the 1st and 2nd gang members. Can’t you catch a break?

Meanwhile Qao’s eyes lit up seeing this as an opportunity and eagerly snuggled his head into your plump chest.

Pressing his cherub face against your soft mounds. His arms wrapped around you in a hug his tail wagging in giddiness at you in his clutches.

The troublemaker purred against you, "Awe don’t be so nervous, we know those brutes must’ve worn you out. So much that you’re lookin for a way out from our happy reunion~"

Linov chuckled, oh how him and his fellow peers adored the natural sweet scent of your pheromones. It never failed to make the dolphin high off their rockers.

Which is the exact reason why they couldn’t afford having you roam around freely. It was a strict policy for you to adorn either one of their scents regularly everyday as they cycled you around. From one gang member to the next.

“As much as we’d like to let ya rest, rules are rules sweetheart and you broke em. Yknow you’re not supposed to around unmarked.“Although Linov had a laidback demeanor, he possessively pulled you down into a hungry kiss.

His long tongue slipping into your mouth, as his hand slide up between your thighs. His webbed claws gingerly stroking at your moistened slit. Clearly wanting to have you for himself.

“ Hey! No fair don’t hog em all to yourself, it’s so not cool bro!"

Qao protested with a grumpy pout, trying to tug you away from the elder figure. Eager to get your attention back onto him.

A sleazy smirk formed on Linov’s face as he snidely looked at the youngest. Mocking him for being so impatient.

"Oh shuddap with all the whining. Our cute bitch can handle her beloved masters at the same time~"

Qao rose an eyebrow, clearly picking up on what he had in mind. His expression turned lax and gave a nod in return. Looking down at you he seemed somewhat pleased with the idea of sharing.

"Okay you got me convinced, but I call dibs on her pretty mouth."The youngest chimed, his hand traveling to give a light squeeze upon your cheeks. A sadistic grin present upon his innocent face. “Nothing gets me off more than seeing em choking on my cock.” Time was a blur for you, you were an absolute shipwreck. Trembling like a damned chihuahua under the mercy of the scheming duo within the dolphin gang.

You were a drooling mess between the two gang members. You lost track of how many orgasms they ripped out of you. Linov had you spread out underneath him upon the sanded seabed out in the open waters where any seafolk could wander and watch.

Meanwhile your face was used as a flashlight by Qao pumping in his thick length. Your core felt hot seeing his flushed face alongside a dopey smile on his rosy lips. His hands squeezing your throat, while gazing hotly down at your pitiful struggles of gasping for air.

As Linov rolled his hips between your thighs opting to give long calculated strokes to coax your cute whimpers from his ridges scrapping against your contracting walls.

“Hello~? Are the lights on upstairs babe?” The sleazy dolphin hybrid taunted. His webbed hands lightly pressing down on your clit, making you cry out with a harsh jerk.

Your eyes rolled back, while precum from the youngest member began mixing in with your saliva. Which dribbled from your gaping maw being violated by Qao’s slimy bumpy shaft.

 Your vision was splotchy from lack of air, any moment there’d be a blackout. And the thought only made you even wetter from a mix of shame and ecstasy fogging up your brain. “Shit, look at this slut. Getting off on being used like the fucktoy she is~ we’ve trained her good huh?”

“Yuppers! I bet those other selfish jerkoffs can’t even make our babygirl cum as much as we can.” Qao replied in a giddy manner, panting as he pulled out of your mouth with a sloppy pop from your lips.

Gods you made them go insane from the view of you desecrated by them. His hands jerked his meat furiously over your face. “Ahn! Keep your tongue out sweetie imma scent mark you first with my love shot!” He trilled, his tail lashing from his powerful orgasm.  Rubbing the head of his cock upon your cheek, he smears the rivets of goopy jizz all over your face.

“Heh quick shot. well I’m up next whore, make room for me in that little womb of yours, imma mark ya from the inside out.” Linov rasped, his stuttering hips slamming home against your soaked cunt.

His textured shaft pulsed within your sweltering walls, a inflamed knot tethered you together.  Aiding in filling you up with periodic gushes of his sperm, making you squirt yet again overstimulated to the point of it being painful.

At the end of it all you came to a consensus that you should be more aware of your surroundings. When trying to go scent free from your obsessive gang of dolphins.

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A/n: Me doing some Poly smut practice lol