#but I promise they will kiss..maybe…eventually

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

Reader has a really bad mental health day. Barzy comes home from practice and takes care of the reader. Draws her a bath, washes her body and hair for her. After he orders her favorite dish and the cuddle on the couch. He reassures her and validates her.

oh again, this is something that i really really need right now 😭

it’s the first day back at work after the long holiday break and you’re overwhelmed by your to do list, already somehow behind on work and feeling completely in over your head

the second you get home, you burst into tears and bury yourself in the sheets to hibernate, your mood made even worse by the fact that mat isn’t home to give you a a hug. you’re left to cry yourself to sleep and you decide to work remotely the next day, just to give yourself a chance to ease in

mat comes home from his away game and finds you on the couch, laptop next to you, with a giant blanket wrapped over your head and shoulders. “hey, baby,” he kisses the top of your blanket covered head, “missed you.”

he’s shocked when you immediately burst into tears, huge hiccuping sobs that scare the shit out of him.

“i’m going to get fired, i don’t know what i’m doing, i’m so stupid,” you wail when mat asks what’s the matter. he hops over the couch and gathers you up in a tight hug, stroking your hair and making sure he’s acting like a human weighted blanket to ease your anxiety.

“you’re not getting fired, you’re the smartest woman i know,” mat assures you, kissing your forehead. “you just had a hard transition back to work after the break, like when i came back from my injury. it takes a minute”

you keep crying into his chest, curled up on his lap and mat decides to carry you into the bedroom and set you on the bed while he runs you a steaming hot bath. he helps you undress, kissing your shoulder, and settles you into the bath, even though it’s the middle of the day. your muscles ease with the hot water and steam and mat tells you all about the road trip and game, taking you through the last few days almost minute by minute to distract you, while he washes your hair and soaps up your body

normally his touch has you wet and ready, but this is all for comfort and nothing else. your tense muscles release under his touch, a shaky sigh escaping your lips

“feel better?” he asks, after the bath, after he’s bundled you up in a towel and dried you off, after he’s gotten you dressed in his sweats so you can be comfy and reassured by his scent on the clothes

you nod, still feeling shaky, but better. “i don’t know what happened,” you murmur, tucked up next to him on the couch, your feet under his thighs and head resting on his chest. “it just all felt super overwhelming and like it was spiraling out of control”

“you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect, baby,” he replies, kissing your head. “can i help you?”

“no, i don’t think so, but maybe you could just sit with me while i do work?”

“whatever you need from me,” he promises. “i’ll order some sushi and sit right next to you while you work on your to do list”

true to his word, mat doesn’t leave your side, feeding you pieces of sushi and rubbing your shoulders while you work through the hardest things on your list. and by the time you log out at the end of the day, mat drags you onto his lap and holds you close for as long as you let him

eventually, you fall asleep on his lap and he carries you off to bed, tucking you in and curling around you with an arm draped over your waist, leaving you so secured that you sleep straight through the night and wake up feeling better than ever 🤍

[kooksvspogues]

Happy 1st Birthday Lilian!! 🥳

Part 7 -

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I immediately push Drew away “Mack, I’m sorry” I apologize

“It’s really not what it seems, I swear” Drew says

“I don’t want to hear it. From either one of you.. Maddie, you’re my bestfriend and you’re my fucking brother… I knew you two were getting along but I didn’t think it was like this.” She says as Garrett walks up behind her

“What’s going on?” He asks, his eyes making contact with mine and Drew’s questionably

“I’m ready to go home.” Mack says

“Ma-“ I start but she puts her hand up

“I don’t want to hear it right now” she starts to walk away, “get your ass in the truck” Mack sternly says turning away

“Maddie” Drew says reaching over to grab my arm but I immediately pull away

“Stop. That right there is why we can’t do this. You knew that.” I say keeping my eyes straight ahead and not anywhere on him before following Mack’s lead out of the bar.

When I make it to the truck, Mack tells me I’m sitting up front with Garrett, which I immediately go along with it. I hop in the passenger seat while she hops in the back as we wait for the boys to come out

“Mack, I know you’re mad and I understand why, but I promise it won’t ever happen again. It just happened and I’m really sorry” I tell her as I’m fiddling with my fingers.

The space in the truck between me and Mack stays extremely tense and quiet, but I eventually see Garrett and Drew leading Logan out of the door and slowly making their way towards the truck. They help him up into the back seat, sitting in the middle, followed by Drew sitting in the back seat behind Garrett, diagonal from me.

“Just drop Drew off at his apartment on the way home” Mack tells Garrett.

“Umm..okay” he says easing his way out of the parking lot giving me almost an apologetic smile

Most of the ride was a painful quiet, I could feel Mack’s eyes burning holes into the back of the headrest and I could feel Drew’s eyes on me as well. I was doing everything in my power I could do to not let tears fall, but as always, Logan always gives us a “distraction.”

“Why does everybody seem so mad?” Logan asks drunkly

“Don’t worry about it, it will all be okay” Mack says patting him on the back

“Yeah you’re right, it will be all okay Mack, know why?” Drew says pissed off, my heart immediately dropping to my feet. I’m assuming she gave him a look or maybe no reaction at all but he starts off again, “because Maddie and I are both grown ass adults, y’all having a ‘no sibling’ pact in college shouldn’t even matter by now. I’m not sorry I kissed h—“

“Stop Drew” Mack commands as I glance to the side to see him leaned back with his head thrown back, his hands rubbing over his face before looking out the window

“We’re here man..” Garrett says.

“Yeah… okay…” he mumbles getting out of the truck as Garrett rolls his window down.

“We’ll get your truck to ya in the morning, don’t worry about it” Garrett tells him as they do a little hand shake. I glance over and immediately lock eyes with Drew

“No rush” he tells Garrett but his eyes are still locked on me before mouthing an “I’m sorry” before heading towards his front door.

The ride back to Garrett and Mack’s house was very quiet besides the few times Garrett tries to make me and Mack laugh or honestly, get anything out of us, which he failed repeatedly as I sat across from him with my arms crossed till we pulled in their driveway.

��I’ll get Logan” Garrett tells us as we both headed to the front door, Mack pulling out her keys but are quickly met with Mrs. Jodi opening the door for us

“Hey, did y’all have fun?” She beams but her smile immediately fades when she sees our faces, “what’s wrong?” She quickly asks

“I just wanna go to bed mom” Mack tells her walking into the house. I follow her lead into the house and dart upstairs to my room, immediately discarding my clothes and heading to the shower.

I just wanted to wash all the guilt away. The guilt of being in love with my best-friends brother for almost two years now, the guilt of kissing him the night of their wedding, and now the guilt of allowing him to kiss me tonight… I can’t believe I let him do that… I rinse out my hair as I keep trying to think of anything else besides the way his hands felt against me and his the way our lips moved perfectly together. Why did he have to be Mack’s sister???

I wipe the escaped tears away and try to not let any more fall. I finish up my shower and hop out, drying off, before putting lotion on and moisturizer on my face. I threw on my oversized t-shirt and my pajama shorts before brushing my hair out and wrapping it up for a few minutes. I walk out to turn on the tv and take a seat on the bed, immediately noticing my phone vibrating, I pick it up and slide up seeing several missed calls and text from drew. I take a deep breath before answering.

“You know you shouldn’t be calling me, it’s just gonna make it worse” I whisper

“Are you okay?” He asks

“Me being okay doesn’t matter rig—“ I answer but get cut off

“Maddie, don’t. Your feelings in this matter a lot more than Mack’s do, I just wish you’d realize that.” Drew tells me

“You seen how she reacted, I can’t do that to her” I explain

“Can’t? Or scared it may actually work and don’t wanna get disappointed or cause a problem between you and Mack if it doesn’t? I don’t regret it, do you?” He asks me just as I hear a slight knock on my door.

“I gotta go” I whisper quickly before hanging up, at the worst time possible. Maybe he’s right, maybe I am just scared of what it might not be..

“Yea?” I say toward the door, it slightly opens and Mrs. Jodi pops her head into view

“Hey babe, I just wanted to come check on you” she smiles, closing the door quietly

“She hates me..” I say immediately feeling the tears fall

“You wanna tell me what happened? She’s not talking to me right now” she says

“Me and Drew kissed…” I say wiping a tear

“And you told her or she seen it?”

“She seen it”

“Was this the first time this trip?” She asks and I give her a strange look

“What do y—“ I start

“I seen you and Drew the night of the wedding, Drew even talked to me about it after you left. I’ve been all for it, but I know you highly respect the roommate rules you and Mack made but baby, I know you havnt gave anybody the time of day since that night, and neither has Drew. You both deserve to attempt happiness, even if it doesn’t work out in the end.” She says patting my knee before grabbing my hand

“I don’t wanna lose Mack” I cry

“If you two were just screwing around, then yeah, maybe some actual issues would form. But from the outside looking in, seeing ever glance and smile between you two, seeing how my son hasn’t had that kind of connection with anybody before or since, I see two hearts that are breaking because they can’t have what they want. If this was Mack and your brother, what would you say?” She asked me

“I think I would be paranoid of what may come of it but I know I would want them to try if it’s what they felt truly made them happy” I answer

“Exactly, so over time, may take a few hours, may take months, Mack will come around, because in the past two years, how many guys have you let kids you?” She asked

“None..” I answer

“And Mack knows that, let her cool down, let her find her sense with it, and everything will be okay, I’ll stay out of it but just know, I’d be honored to have you officially apart of my family, even though you’re already one of my kiddos” she smiles at me kissing the top of my head, before hugging me.

“I love you” I say hugging her back

“I love you too, now get some sleep, if you need me, you know where I’ll be” she gives me another smile before heading towards the door. “Goodnight Mad’s”

“Goodnight mom” I smile back at her as she closes the door

I go to the bathroom and braid my hair quickly and brush my teeth before climbing back in bed. The buzz I was once feeling long gone and now just wanting to sleep. I put my phone on do not disturb and roll over, getting comfortable before letting sleep take over.

~~~~~~

“Maddie” I barely hear but feel my body being shaken, “Maddie, wake up!” I hear again, shaking me even harder, before I allow my eyes to jerk open.

“What? Is everything okay??” I freak out once I see Mackayla’s face. Stern look but eyes watery.

“No, I’m not okay” she said and immediately starts crying as I sit up quickly wrapping my arms around her

“Did something happen or is this about-“

“Last night.. I was horrible and I’m sorry” she cries as I hug her tighter

“I’m sorry too” I say as she wraps her arms around me, “cmon” I say pulling her more into the bed, sitting there and holding each other like we did so many times in college.

“I’m sorry I freaked out, I just truly didn’t know what to think or do” she explains

“I know and I get it, I really do.. we made that pact years ago and I feel horrible about it” I tell her, wiping my tears away

“I’ve been up all night thinking and I forgive you, both of you, but I do think we really need to talk..” she says sitting up a little looking over at me.

“Okay… go for it” I say not really knowing what to expect

“It was Drew wasn’t it?” She asks

“What are we referring to exactly?” I ask knowing exactly what she’s talking about but not sure if my brain and mouth is ready to admit it out loud.

“Drew is guy you’ve been hung up on all this time, isn’t he?” She asks cocking an eyebrow

“Are you going to hate me if I say yes?” I ask quietly

“I’d hate you if you keep the truth from me any longer” she says slightly smiling

“Yea..” I say feeling my face heat up.

“Why didn’t you just tell me..?” She asks

“Because, the pact, I was scared you’d hate me”

“I could never hate you, but now that I know. What happened to make you get hung up on my brother, of all people” she asks and I grin.

“I have wanted to talk to you about this for years” I say grabbing her hand before telling her every little detail of her wedding night and the past few days.

“I honestly think I sensed it but just didn’t believe it could be true.. I’m sorry for pushing Austin on you so much, but the way Drew has been acting makes sooo much more sense now” she says making me laugh

“Yeah.. Austin had only one thing on his brain” I say and she nods

“Have you talked to Drew?” She asked

“For not even a minute last night when I got out the shower. I had to hang up on him at a bad time” I say making a worried expression

“Go talk to him” she said

“Now? What time is it?” I ask reaching over to grab my phone, “Mack, what time did you wake me up??” I laugh as I see 5:22 on my screen

“Who cares, I wasn’t getting any sleep, now look where we are” she smiles

“What do you want me to talk to him about, I told him we couldn’t be any-“ she cuts me off quickly

“I’m gonna need you to take that off your excuse list, Drew’s right, we’re all grown adults and that pact was good to have when we were in college, but Maddie, looking back over the past few days, I can see something truly special between you two, even if it doesn’t work out one day, you’ll always be apart of this family but considering that you both have not gave anybody a chance since then, I think it’s time you allow yourself to be honest with yourself, be honest with Drew, and let yourself be happy, I didn’t think I’d ever say this but, his truck keys are on the island, I’ll send you his address, and take your ass over there right now, and get your man, y’all have waited long enough” she says giving me a hug, pushing me off the bed, smacking my butt once I stood up

“I gotta change” I say

“Just brush your teeth and go, the tension I witnessed last night, we’ll be lucky if the clothes stay on” she laughs

“Oh fuck off” I laugh

“Looked like that’s what y’all was trying to do”

“Mack, please stop” I laugh, “took me two years to get to this spot, I really don’t wanna have that kind of conversation with ya today” I explain bringing my toothbrush to my mouth

“Yeah, the ‘full reports’ may be a little strange this go around” she laughs, “also, I put his address in your Google maps, it’s ready when you are” she smiles as I go over and grab a bra out of my suitcase and slip it on quickly

“Am I really doing this? You’re not at all mad?” I ask

“I’m irritated it took us this long to be completely honest about it but I get it, like I said, go get your man” she winks “I’m about to go cuddle with mine, be careful and let me know when you make it. oh and I may call and wake him up, go off on him, freak him out a little bit” she adds

“You’re evil” I say laughing

“He’s my brother, I gotta be” she says leading the way down the stairs and over to the kitchen island.

“Go get em cowgirl” she says handing me Drew’s keys

“You think he’ll be mad if I drive his truck?” I ask

“Something tells me he’ll be okay” she smiles pushing me out the door, “love you”

“Love you too” I say quickly darting towards the black truck in the driveway, noticing daylight isn’t too far from now.

I start the truck up, quickly backing up and heading towards Drew’s place. I feel my heart immediately start pounding and tears spilling. I’m finally gonna be honest, with not only myself but him. I’m gonna put everything out on the table. No more hiding and no more lying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @percysley @dilfs-4life

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 14

there was something pulling you back to him.

some supernatural force, probably, because you could not for the love of you understand how this happened. but no matter what happened in your life, no matter how much schoolwork you had to do or what parties your friends invited you to, you somehow always found yourself agreeing to fall into jack's bed at night; to feel his skin against yours, to tangle your breath with his, to watch his eyelids flutter closed with pleasure.

in these mere two weeks, you'd found yourself in that exact situation a handful of times – but, of course, he always took you out for dinner beforehand. he wasn't a pig, after all.

jack had told you that the reason behind why he only ever took you to eat out instead of dining in was because he was a terrible chef. it seemed unlikely – a man so perfect in all other ways should be able to whip up something edible, right?

apparently not.

he proved his incompetence one sunday night when you had finally convinced him to spend the evening at his place instead of going out. he'd promised to make a pasta, following some recipe his brother had sent him, but you had to save him from burning the whole place down within just minutes of him starting to cook.

"are you kidding me?" you exclaim half-an-hour later, watching him hold a stack of uncooked spaghetti in his hands, ready to snap it in half. "you can't- don't-"

"they won't fit in the pot!" he was quick to respond, holding them up next to the boiling pot of water on the stove (which was threatening to boil over any second now) to prove his point.

you shook your head, stepping up next to him. "they'll soften after just a couple of seconds, and then you'll be able to get it all in," you said, turning down the heat when he looked away for a second. "what, you thought restaurants just had super tall pots for cooking spaghetti?"

he bumped his shoulder against yours, his tongue sticking out of his mouth before he reluctantly agreed and dropped the noodles in the water. "i'm still skeptical."

"don't worry, you'll see." after a few moments of silence, you could feel an arm wrapping over your shoulders. "you salted the water, right?"

"the water?" he scoffed. "now you're just making things up."

"god, you need salt in your pasta water. it won't taste anything otherwise, you doofus."

"doofus, huh?" he chuckled, reaching over to a salt shaker by the stove. "thank you, though. what would i do without you?”

"get poor from how much you eat out- you need way more salt than that, you think just a pinch is going to be enough for a whole pot of pasta?!"

at least he knew what kind of wine to pair the finished dish with. though, it was probably his brother who recommended that, too.

unlike your earlier rendezvous, this night did not end up with your bodies intertwined in his bed, with his name leaving your lips in the form of a whine, or with his touches sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

instead, after dinner, you found yourselves cuddled up on his couch, with his name coming out as strangled complains when he beat you in some silly video games, and his touches were reserved for brushing strands of your hair behind your ear and playing with playing with your fingers. it was surprising, yet at the same time, not so strange at all. the different vibe, more lighthearted and warm, felt natural and was oh so welcome.

jack's lame jokes made you giggle, his fleeting kisses to your temples and cheeks made you crave more. you found comfort in the way his eyes twinkled with interest as you told him about your weekend, and his pretty smile helped lull you into a sweet state of mind. you thought that maybe, just maybe, this could actually be good for you.

you weren't sure what your relationship was forming into, nor were you sure what kind of rules or boundaries applied to whatever you were doing. so far, you'd assumed that the two of you would enjoy each other's company for a little while before things eventually fizzle out and you forget about each other. but maybe there was more to your relationship than that?

jack called you beautiful in a thousand different ways, with his words and touches and the look in his eyes. he held you like you were the most delicate and important piece of art, something he never wanted to see harmed.

it was not something you'd experienced before – nor had you expected that someone like him would be the one to make you feel it. however, it was definitely something you could get used to.

[nakylvr]

sigh... being jealous if dani's ex bf all day and u start to ignore her cs ur jealous asf and shes all confused why ur ignoring her and i js know she'll laugh at u and call u silly for being jealous of such a little thing that happened before u guys. her comforting u after and saying its all done and finished. man i js need her to comfort me i think. anon with the predebut pin had made a huge damage im crashing

i understand 😔

she doesn't think you're serious at first, and so she just laughs a little and doesn't take it seriously until she realizes you're serious by not talking really and lowkey ignoring her. maybe you saw an old picture somewhere or something, but she honestly didn't think it was that big of a deal when she doesn't even speak to her exes anymore. when she finally confronts you on you ignoring her and you explain why, her whole way she was going about the conversation changes realizing you were serious. she'd just wrap her arms around your neck, pressing little kisses all over your face while reassuring you that she only has eyes for you and that she promises she wouldn't leave you under any circumstances. when you get jealous it's pretty easy for her to fix when she's eventually realized it, but when she's jealous it's the opposite, in a way. when you get jealous it's more of getting quiet, jaw clenched, and ignoring everyone. when she gets jealous she makes it everyones problem, talking loudly and cursing in spanish, and being a bit of a brat when you pay attention to her.

[szynkaaa]

Just a gal and her Stone Monkey

this image pose template from here

HC since SWK cane change his size, the same applies for his Azure Dome form. So he can be as big as a mountain, or the size of a big yaoguai, or normal sized (whatever normal sized is for the Stone Monkey)

Much later on:

Slight NSFW under the cut

[yuwuta]

itfs + reader is so real to me and it works like this: you’re megumi’s childhood best friend, somewhere along the way he meets yuuji, yuuji asks him out, and somewhere along the way—probably mid blowjob or something becuase that’s definitely when yuuji would be thinking about it—yuuji’s like “hey, so do you know you’re in love with your best friend or what?” and megumi literally chokes, and avoids him for like a week but eventually he does admit that he does know, but he also does really like yuuji and if they were normal, they’d break up, but they’re so very far from normal that it becomes a whole thing for them to get off while talking about you, for yuuji to taunt megumi about how he wishes you were here between them and tease him about naughty it is that he fantasizes about his best friend while getting sucked off by his boyfriend, and for megumi to tell him to shutup but then he babbles about all of he pent up fantasies about you anyway. yuuji likes messing with megumi’s guilt about this, and megumi hates how much he likes that yuuji is also into you, and somehow you being oblivious to this is a whole other kink they’ve got going on and have no idea how to sort out

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt 2

[on ao3][pt 1]

content warnings: non-graphic discussions of racism, bigotry, murder, and child abuse. i go into more detail on ao3.

Before Steve even had a chance to breathe, Robin was human again. A furrow in her brow creased her smooth skin, frustration at the forced woge evident. Her eyes– blue, Steve noted, unlike the gold they had been a moment before –held Steve's gaze for a moment before sliding away. 

Her quick return to humanity did not negate the familiar rush of adrenaline. Steve's body had locked up the moment her eyes had flashed at him, torn between two instincts. Just as he'd feared, the forefront of his mind was focused on violence. The enemy wasn't moving, unarmed and currently disguised as a human, but that only meant that Steve had the advantage; There was a blade on the far counter, dull but usable, and if he needed to run, there was a window over her shoulder. 

He'd probably survive the fall. 

But as much as his body wanted to shove his new manager– Seriously, what was that guy's name, again? –to the side and lunge for the knife, Steve refused to give in. Hopper had told him he could power through these instincts, but it didn't feel like fighting. It felt like hiding. Like he if he didn't move, didn't breathe, then the terror of his own brain couldn't find him. 

The manager said something. Steve didn't hear, didn't care, all of his senses attuned to Robin and her every move. 

Robin stood, and Steve felt his entire body shift. It wasn't a flinch, not so much movement that the manager would clock it, but he… His fingers twitched into loose fists, his posturing changing as his hips and feet moved to a more dynamic stance. It didn't look like much, just a nervous guy fidgeting on his first day at work, but Steve could feel his body revving up for a fight. 

And judging by the look in Robin's eyes, she might actually give it to him. 

"I can show him around the back," Robin said, smiling at the manager. "We used to go to school together. It'll give us time to catch up." The friendliness on her face was obviously fake, plastic-y and barely an effort. But if the manager noticed, he didn't care. 

"Good looking out, Rob. I needed to give Patrick his break, anyway," he said. "Steve, I'll see you in about thirty minutes to finish up your paperwork?" 

It hurt to make himself nod, his body unwilling to give in to the extraneous movement. Stilted though it was, the manager was happy enough to accept it. He smiled, nodded, and left them alone in the room. 

The woge had rippled back across Robin's face before the door even shut behind him. Now that he was expecting it, Steve could see more of the details of her second face. Unlike Dustin, the fur sprouting on her face was mostly white, and it faded into the same reddish-brown as her hair. Her teeth and nose lengthened, a subtle snout protruding from her face. The biggest change, however, was her eyes: They glittered gold, larger and more fierce than her human gaze. 

Steve wasn't great at this Wesen thing yet, but Dustin had told him that tons of Wesen had attributes of animals, and Robin was obviously one of them. Would knowing which one help him in a fight? She was obviously something furry and mean, like some kind of cat… Or maybe a fox? 

Robin met his curious gaze, and Steve watched her face grow even angrier at what she saw there. 

Before Steve could even wonder which sins she saw reflected back in his eyes, Robin was taking large, furious steps towards him. 

Not even Steve's dedication to not hurting anyone could power through his need to not be murdered in an ice cream shop by an angry Wesen. He gave up on the idea of the blade– It was too far, on the other side of teeth and claws, and he wasn't willing to risk it for a sub-par weapon. Instead, he reached out for the first thing he could get his hands on. 

It turned out to be an ice cream scoop. 

Steve had half a mind to be embarrassed of his own instincts, but in the next breath a hundred scenarios flooded through his mind. He could use the handle as brass knuckles, use the added force to break her nose, pushing the cartilage into her brain. But would the Wesen bone structure allow for it? He couldn't be sure. That was why he obviously had to go for the eyes, using the slight point of the scoop to remove an eye from the socket. But– 

Bile rose in his throat, and Steve forced himself to swallow even as plan after plan sprouted fully-formed in his mind. 

"Please don't make me hurt you," he said, his voice shaking in his throat. "I really don't want to hurt you." 

The plea only deepened the disgust on Robin's face, and she took one more step towards him. Steve planted his feet, twirling the scoop to reverse his grip when she bared her teeth at him. He would definitely have to take a few teeth out first. 

"Why am I not surprised that King Steve is a fucking Grimm?" Robin growled, the unfamiliar word like a curse in her mouth. It was obviously supposed to mean something to him, supposed to hurt, but the best Steve could do was confusion. 

Confusion so deep, in fact, that it helped dull the rage and terror that Steve couldn't tame. He felt his muscles relax by centimeters, the energy going instead towards trying to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean. 

"What the fuck is a Grimm?" 

He would have thought it was his Wesen name, although it didn't exactly sound like Hexenbiest or Eisbiber. It sounded English, in fact, and although Dustin had lectured him a thousand times about why German and English sounded so similar, the familiarity unsettled Steve a bit. Sure, 'beast' wasn't exactly something you wanted to be called, but Steve was willing to say that 'grim' was a fair bit closer. 

"Please," Robin scoffed. When Steve could only blink at her, shrugging, her face changed to something that almost resembled pity. "You're kidding." 

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about," Steve said. "What is that? A Grimm, I mean. Is that– Is that what I am?" 

Without another word, Robin dropped the woge and turned away from him, picking up the book she had abandoned on the table. 

"Look, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. I'm new at this Wesen thing, so I don't really know how to stop the eyes from giving people the wrong idea, but if you– If you know what I am, then maybe you could–" 

Laughter cut him off, and Robin shook her head, turning back around. "I'm not really interested in teaching a future serial killer how to do his job, thanks." 

Steve faltered. "I… what?" 

"Look, I don't care what you do outside of work. Do what you need to. But stay the fuck away from me, okay?" 

She wasn't meeting his eyes, Steve noticed. Not even really looking at him at all, even though it meant she was at a disadvantage if he attacked. It was just the tiniest gesture, submissive where everything else had been primed to offend, and Steve realized with a sinking stomach that she was scared. Robin was terrified of him, not in the way that El had been, but as a person. 

The adrenaline had long since faded, and Robin was still afraid that he would kill her. 

"I'm not…" Steve panted. "I wouldn't…." 

Robin didn't wait for him to find his words. She was out the door before he had even caught his breath, leaving the door banging behind her. 

It had been hell getting through the rest of the shift. It was, blessedly, a short one, more of an orientation than anything, but Steve still couldn't focus for more than five minutes. His brain kept repeating the words Robin had thrown in his face.

A future serial killer. What the fuck had that meant?

Steve didn't go home after his first shift. He had planned to, planned to celebrate with a long, hot shower and some take out. The anxiety that crept up when he was finally alone in his car didn't care what Steve had planned, however. Normally, he would have just called Dustin to puzzle it over, like he usually did with every other perplexing social interaction, but Dustin was only allowed one phone call a day, which meant Steve got to talk to him once a week. It was a blessing that Claudia had afforded him Sundays, honestly. So Steve turned to the only other person in this town who could put up with him for more than five minutes. 

Hopper didn't even bother to act surprised when Steve knocked on his door. "Rough day at work?" he said, a grin curled around the cigarette he had tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

"Wesen coworker," Steve said. 

That was enough explanation, apparently. "Fuck, kid," Hopper said, stepping back so Steve could slip past him into the living room. "You can't catch a break, huh?" 

"I… handled it better than I thought I would," Steve admitted as he crossed the room to throw himself onto the couch. "I almost threw up afterwards, but I didn't let it control me again." 

He heard the door close, and Hopper's heavy footsteps on the floor behind him. Steve couldn't see him from where his head lolled on the couch cushion, but he could see Hopper's shadow reaching across the floor. That was enough. 

"See, I knew you could do it," Hopper said, over the distinct sound of a fridge door opening. 

Steve huffed, thinking about the things Robin had said to him. Had called him. "She knew what I was," he said, because it felt wrong to acknowledge the praise when he was pretty sure he didn't deserve it. "Called me a Grimm." 

"That…" Hopper sounded as confused as Steve felt. "Now, I don't speak German, but I'm pretty sure that's just English." 

"I don't fucking know anymore, man. From what Dustin's been telling me, I think they might be the same thing." 

"Wouldn't that be useful?" Hopper scoffed. The fridge closed. "Did she bother to explain what it meant?" 

"N… no?" Steve swallowed. "I asked, but she wouldn't really…" 

Hopper rounded the couch and held an already sweating can of beer out. Steve accepted it with shaking hands. 

"She didn't say it like it was a nice thing," Steve said, finally. "Honestly, I think she assumed I was there to kill her." 

That certainly made Hopper pause. Steve watched him pause, halfway into his recliner, before finally forcing himself to complete the motion. They didn't speak for a moment, but Steve couldn't bring himself to drink. The idea of anything on his churning stomach made him sick. 

"Does it… matter?" Hopper said, eventually. 

Steve laughed, a strained, choking thing. "Does it matter?" he repeated, "Does it matter that apparently my entire– my entire species is supposed to kill people? Yeah, Hop, I would say it does." 

"That's not how–" Hopper shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, don't go talking to Dustin about what I'm about to say, but from what I've heard from Claudia Henderson, I sometimes get the feeling that these Wesen folk are racist as hell." 

Steve blinked. "I don't think it's really the same thing." 

"Yeah?" Hopper's mouth twisted, a smile that made Steve shiver. "You weren't here when she was trying to explain to me what El was. Some of the stuff she said… She's not human, either, but she talked about El like she was worse than a monster. Like she would kill all of us in our sleep if we gave her the chance." 

Steve thought about it. It felt wrong, like a pebble in his shoe, to think about himself that way. He'd been very lucky growing up, he knew that. He had the money, the right looks, the right family. He couldn't imagine himself dealing with the same things that Lucas had gone through, for instance. But… Steve also thought about the things Dustin said, sometimes, about his mom not letting him be alone with El, how Steve himself probably wouldn't be allowed within five feet of him anymore when she discovered that Steve wasn't human. 

It wasn't the same thing, not at all, but it still didn't feel good.

"I'm not saying that she was right," Steve said, slowly, "but my instincts…" 

"You're not a fucking animal, kid," Hopper grunted. "Don't let them treat you like one." 

He raised the legs of his recliner, settling into the cushion with a pointed silence. The conversation was over, as far as Hop was concerned. 

Steve tried to be okay with that. Tried to be okay with the idea that they were wrong, not him. Every day, he woke up and tried again. It never really stuck. Some days were better than others. Some days, Steve could almost brush off Robin's glare without a single pang of guilt. Some days, Steve felt human. Most days he didn't. There was a voice in his head that said they were right, that it might be for the wrong reasons, but there was something wrong with him.

Robin only made it worse. Steve had tried to keep out of her way, but there were only so many excuses that could keep them off the same shifts. When they did work together, Robin never let up– He tried to keep quiet, keep his head down, but she would always find something to say. 

It was never nice. Of course. After a while, she didn't even seem fearful, just disgusted at his existence. Everything Steve did was under scrutiny, with Robin insulting everything from his hair to his customer service. Once, during a particularly intense rush, she hissed at him for breathing 'like a beast'. 

That's what she said. Like a beast. 

El was the only thing that helped. Hopper didn't understand, and Dustin was away at camp, but El was always happy to see him. Steve didn't talk about it much, not wanting to unload the mess in his head on a little girl, but Steve was sure El got it, anyway. 

Steve didn't know what Mrs. Henderson told her about being a Hexenbiest. He didn't want to know. Avoiding her was awkward enough without actively wanting to rip her apart for making El feel bad for something she couldn't control. 

And, yeah, he got the irony– It was different for El, okay? 

Hanging out with El was different than hanging with Dustin and the others. While the boys left Steve with the same happy, tired feeling as a good swim meet, El made him feel… grounded. Restored. He didn't know if that was personality or power, but he was sure that was the only thing keeping him sane. 

After bad days, Steve would drive straight to the cabin. Hopper would always roll his eyes and grouse about Steve keeping his daughter up all hours, but he never actually turned Steve away. (Besides he loved it when El would kick Mike out for Steve. He never laughed harder.) They would commandeer the couch, chasing Hopper off to the kitchen nook, and watch movies or music videos Steve had taped. Sometimes, El read out loud to Steve, instead; Her vocabulary was improving in leaps and bounds. Once night settled fully, they would go out onto the porch and talk until El couldn't form words around her yawns. 

They never talked about the Wesen thing. Everything else was fair game, though. Sometimes it was simple things, like what it was like to love a Wheeler, or if Lucas and Will would like the book they just finished. Sometimes El talked about the lab, about the siblings she'd lost. Sometimes Steve admitted, nervous every time, that when his parents were home he felt like a cornered animal. Max joined them from time to time, the conversations becoming all the more bittersweet. 

Sure, making yet another thirteen year old best friend probably wasn't the healthiest thing Steve had ever done, but it got him out of bed and into work every morning. That was more than enough, for now. 

El must have said something to the other kids, because they started showing up at work more often. Every day, in fact, even when they'd long since run out of allowance to spend on ice cream. They weren't obvious about it, only popping by to tell him about their day or beg for free samples, except for Max. 

Max, ever the protector, loved to come by on days Robin worked. Her new favorite hobby was sitting at a table for hours and yelling over Robin whenever she spoke. Max always got Steve's employee discount. 

"You do not look happy," El said one night. Max had still been in the lobby when Steve clocked out, so they'd driven to the cabin together instead of going home. 

"I'm fine," Steve said, automatically, straightening himself from his slump. 

"He has to work with Robin all next week," Max said, ignoring Steve's noise of protest. "She was complaining about it loud enough for half the mall to hear." 

"Hm." El's eyes narrowed. Then, as if the moment had never happened, she turned towards Steve's stack of tapes. "I want to watch the Muppets." 

Steve really shouldn't have been surprised when El showed up with Max the next day.

The moment he registered her bright, familiar grin, Steve felt his veins go cold. It was a strange, almost alien feeling now to be afraid without the all-consuming adrenaline and rage of his woge. Instead of forcing himself to stay still, he was stuck , unable to do anything but watch Max and El approach the counter. 

"Hi, Steve!" El said, smiling. She looked so happy, all dolled up in new clothes and light makeup, and Steve wanted to be happy for her. He really did. Hopper's voice in his head simply wouldn't let him. 

"You are not supposed to be here," Steve said, voice dropping into a whisper. Max rolled her eyes and Steve felt the anger break through the icy grip of fear, finally letting him round the counter to herd them into the corner. "Did you sneak her out, Mayfield?" 

"It's the mall, Harrington," she sniped, crossing her arms. "No one's looking for her here. She'll be fine." 

"Government agents and mad scientists have to shop, too," Steve said. "... Probably."

El leaned into Steve's side, pouting up at him. Which, honestly, was cheating, because El knew that Steve had never been able to say no to puppy dog eyes. When she finally let Dustin in on that trick, his life was officially over. He could already feel himself starting to waver. 

"We came to help," El said, wrapping her arms around Steve's waist. "Don't be mad." 

"I'm not…" Steve took a deep breath. "I'm not mad. I'm worried. There's a difference." 

Max was no longer paying attention. Instead, she was staring at the front counter, face drawn into a tight scowl. "El. That's her." 

Robin stood at the counter, obviously staring. Not at the girl who was glaring daggers into her, but El and Steve. It almost didn't register at first; Steve had gotten pretty used to constantly having Robin's attention on him when they worked together. As El calmly returned Robin's stare, however, Steve noticed that the usual anger on Robin's face wasn't present. She looked almost surprised, instead, with a heavy dose of confusion. 

Which made sense, he guessed, if she could tell El was a Wesen. 

He put his hand on El's back, a protective gesture that he hoped Robin would understand as a line in the sand. Her gaze didn't waver. 

"I want to talk to her," El said, voice strangely flat. 

"Absolutely not," Steve said. "She's almost an adult, and you can't fight back without… getting yourself in trouble." 

"Then can I…" 

"No," Steve sighed. "Is this really what you snuck out for? To bother my coworker with your magic powers?" 

"And shopping," Max said brightly. 

El didn't answer. When Steve looked down at her, her cheek still pressed into his uniform shirt, he watched the woge settle across her face. 

" Jane Hopper, " Steve hissed. Over the past weeks, he had gotten more than used to El's Wesen face, and had become as fond of it as he was her cherub-cheeked human form. That didn't mean he was an idiot, though; He knew an intimidation tactic when he saw one. 

He also saw Robin's face go absolutely white as the blood drained from her face. There was a moment where the girls' gazes held, Robin's hypnotized by the black pits of El's, and then Robin squeaked and scuttled into the back room. 

"Guys, you can't…" Steve began, but when Max and El both looked up at him with matching mischievous grins, he couldn't hold back his chuckles. "Thank you, but seriously. Never do this again."

El tilted her head up, chin digging into Steve's stomach, to meet his gaze. "No one is allowed to bully you." 

"That so?" Steve said, a fond smile stealing across his face.

Solemn, El responded, "Will says big brothers need to be protected sometimes, too." 

"Oh." Steve turned the loose embrace into a proper hug, suddenly overcome with affection. His whole life he'd been alone, and now he had two little siblings. How cool was that? He hummed, a hand smoothing down El's curls as she squeezed him tight. 

Max watched them with a look Steve couldn't decipher, the beginnings of a frown on her face. Maybe three little siblings, he corrected himself, and reached one hand out to her. 

"Ew," Max complained, but let herself be pulled into his side anyway. 

"I care about you both so much ," Steve said, voice low. "Which is why you're going home right now, before Hopper finds out you left and you get so grounded I can't see you again until I'm 40." 

"Dad is in Layton," El said, eyes twinkling. "We have hours ." 

"And tickets to Back to the Future," Max said, smug as anything. 

Steve sighed and pushed flyaway hairs back from Max's forehead. "Fine, but be careful. I saw the  boys here earlier. Try to get a ride home with Jonathan or Nance. And stick together ." 

"Okay, mom, " Max said, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. 

El giggled like it was the funniest joke she's ever heard. "Yeah, mom ." 

Steve shook his head and shooed them out, mumbling meaningless threats of narcking to Hopper. Once they were out of his sight, swallowed by the churn of the crowd, Steve felt himself deflate. The performance of big brother kept him afloat, chest filling with warmth, but when he was supposed to be just Steve…

He bit his lip and returned to the service counter, ignoring the unmistakable feeling of a gaze glued to his back. 

The next month flew by much the same as the first had, though if Max and El snuck out again, they knew better than to come to Scoops. Robin's ire, now two months deep, now inspired more melancholy in Steve than frustration. 

It was astonishingly easy to descend into self-pity, lately, and with every insult or smart remark Steve couldn't help but feel he'd lost something. Not just for himself, but for El and Dustin, too. Nothing concrete, but rather a bond, the chance of a connection to the greater Wesen community. A connection that should have already belonged to El and Dustin, denied to them by deception and fear. 

And now by the virtue of loving Steve. 

Steve tried not to dwell on it too much. He kept himself busy, between work and helping Hop at the cabin, and counted down the days until Dustin would be home. Until their tiny pack of three would be complete again. 

The day Steve woke up to a tiny beaver sticker on his calendar, not even Robin could knock the smile off his face. He could tell it bothered her, too, and for once the mumbling under breath only made him smile harder. 

His brother was coming home. 

Steve was on his break when he heard Dustin's voice, clear as a bell, for the first time in months. "Is he here?" 

Robin answered, clearly bored, but Steve paid no mind to what she had to say. He was already out of his seat by Dustin's final syllable. Steve sprinted out of the break room, skidding out of the door as his own speed overwhelmed him. And there he was, Dustin Henderson, a whole two inches taller than Steve had last seen him. 

His smile was blinding. 

"I can't believe you actually wear that," Dustin said, his smile only growing wider. 

"You little shit," Steve said, then leapt over the counter. He didn't put much thought into it, hadn't considered that he might not be able to clear it. He'd only thought– Oh, it would be so much faster to go over than around. And then he'd done it, shoes squeaking on the linoleum as he landed on the other side. 

"Wow, you must have really missed me," Dustin said, and then he said nothing at all, because Steve was scooping him into a hug. 

"I regret it immediately," Steve said, but he didn't let go. If anything, his own gentle teasing just made him squeeze harder, as if Dustin would take his teasing as truth and leave again. "When can I send you back?" 

Dustin slapped him on the back, his usual sign he wanted to be let down, now, please. "If you suffocate me I'm not going to make it until next time." 

"Sorry, man," Steve said. He lowered Dustin to the floor and then stepped back. Through all his sheepishness, he still didn't stop smiling; Not even the embarrassment could dim the sheer relief Steve felt having everyone he loved back in the same city limits. "How was camp?" 

"Who gives a shit? I can't believe they actually hired you!" 

"Fuck off, Henderson, seriously." 

And then, naturally, they fell into their handshake. It was a stupid, geeky tradition that Steve had been pulled into unwillingly, but he had to admit that half the moves were his idea. Even the lightsaber fight, which they had choreographed on Mrs. Henderson's couch after a hearty meal of Christmas leftovers. Steve thought the spilling of his guts was particularly inspired, even if Dustin often complained that disembowelment was both non-canon and unscientific. 

As if the little shit didn't giggle every time. 

"No, but seriously," Steve said as he recovered from his dramatic demise, "how was camp, man? Let me go on my break, you can tell me everything–" 

"Absolutely not," Robin said from the counter. Dustin turned to her, eyebrows raised, and Steve internally sighed. He was not looking forward to explaining all this to Dustin, who was protective on the best days and mocking on the worst. Whatever the kid's opinion would be, Steve was sure it would just make him feel worse. 

Before could even protest the double standard of Robin having already taken two breaks to his zero, Robin did the unthinkable– She woged at Dustin, human teeth already bared before they shifted into fangs. Steve was proud of how Dustin reacted, though, meeting Robin's gaze head-on even though Steve could see his black little nose quiver in terror. The instinctual response woge had settled over Dustin, his fear plain as day, but he didn't give a centimeter. 

Good, Steve thought, as he whirled on Robin. 

Robin's anger matched his own before Steve could even open his mouth, as if he were the one who had been unspeakably rude. As if he was the one making thinly veiled threats of violence in public. As if he were the one who kept woging in public, every time risking more and more exposure. It only made the rage burn brighter. 

"What the fuck is your problem, Buckley?" Steve could tell from the flicker of Robin's golden eyes that he was woged now, too, and he knew he was supposed to fight it. Part of him wanted to try. But for once, the human and Wesen instincts were in complete accordance. No version of Steve Harrington was going to let anything happen to Dustin. 

"I can't believe you," Robin said. There was an animalistic rumble underneath her voice, a vocalization that Steve's ears could only just make out. "The audacity of a Grimm knows no bounds, apparently." 

That word again. Whatever the fuck it meant. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Steve ignored the confused glances Dustin kept throwing his way, the hand clenched in the hem of his shirt. There was no way he was taking his eyes off an angry predator. 

"I thought it was really weird when that little 'biest was here, hanging off of you," Robin continued, "but everyone knows that they're all buddy-buddy with the Royals, so I figured it was business. But this? Preying on a little prey kid? That's low, Harrington, even for you." 

It was a stupid, cruel assumption to make. The kind of thing Tommy would have said in high school. The kind of thing Steve would have laughed at, a few years ago. Now, though, Steve's stomach dropped somewhere he couldn't feel it, leaving only a hollow pit behind. Was it by simple virtue of that word– Grimm, Steve thought with a daze –that made Robin so sure he was capable of something so foul? Or was it something he had done, once, when he had been so desperate for approval? He didn't think that even King Steve at his worst had been so horrible to earn him this. 

Steve stuttered, his breath caught in his throat. Dustin had no such trouble. 

"Hey!" Dustin said, his voice going squeaky with anger. "That's my best friend you're talking to." 

Robin looked at him with as much condescension as Carol Perkins had ever managed, her nose twitching with disgust. "You don't know what he's like, kid." 

Unfortunately for her, Dustin Henderson was the one child on planet earth who didn't deign to even acknowledge being treated like one. "I'm pretty sure I know him better than you . I don't know where you got your information, but Steve has saved my life multiple times, and–" 

"I really don't think she needs to know about all that," Steve said quickly. His heart was rabbiting in his chest just thinking about trying to explain away stories about demodogs and lab experiments to a girl who already hated his guts. 

"Do your parents know that you've been hanging out with a Grimm?" Robin asked, apparently ignoring the saving-Dustin's-life thing. Thank god. 

Dustin stiffened, probably because Mrs. Henderson absolutely would freak if she knew Steve was any kind of Wesen, much less one bad enough for all the shit Robin had been talking. "I don't know what a Grimm is," Dustin said, eventually, his voice oddly stilted. "But it doesn't matter. He's Steve ." 

For once, Robin looked as confused as Steve felt, like, 75% of the time. "You honestly don't know– Hold on." She snapped and turned to Steve. "You. When you said you didn't know what a Grimm was, you just weren't playing dumb?" 

"No," Steve said, and it came out a plea. "My parents never told me any of this shit, if they're even my parents–" And that felt wrong to say, bad to say, because Steve didn't know who he was without being Bradley Harrington's son first. "--and you're only, like, the third Wesen I've ever met." 

"You couldn't ask ?" 

Steve swallowed back the snarky answer, knowing what Robin was really asking. "What was I supposed to do, call my parents up like, 'Hi Mom and Dad, sorry to interrupt your very important meeting, I was wondering if you knew anything about us being monsters'? Does that sound like a conversation I should have on the phone?" It didn't help that Steve was pretty sure the government had been tracking his phone calls since 1983. 

"But…" Robin's eyes narrowed, shifting back to their human shape and color. "You started working here two months ago." 

Steve nodded, stomach churning. "Yeah." 

"So are you going to tell us what a Grimm is or not?" Dustin said. When Steve finally looked over at him, he still looked pissed, arms crossed and glaring, but Steve recognized that sparkle in his eyes. Little shit was ecstatic to be learning the lore behind Steve's whole deal, that was more than apparent. 

That made one of them. 

"I only know what my parents have told me," Robin said, slowly. She wouldn't look Steve in the eyes anymore, which wasn't exactly a great sign. Steve's throat contracted, forcing bile back down. "I've never met one in real life, before Harrington. I honestly wasn't sure they were still real. I thought they were… I don't know, stupid stories that parents tell to make their kids behave, you know? Like the boogie man." 

"But you knew Steve was one," Dustin said. Less of a question, more of an interrogation. Point out their own contradictions, wait for more information. Steve was pretty sure he'd picked that one up from watching Hopper grill Mike. 

"His eyes," Robin said. Her eyes darted up to meet Steve's gaze for only a moment before they fell back to the floor. "The stories all have them. Black mirrors that show you all the worst parts of yourself, every sin you've ever committed. It's supposed to be, like… Making you repent before, you know. They kill you." 

"So I'm a killer?" Steve said, his tongue numb in his mouth. 

Robin grimaced. "Kinda? They used to be… like knights, I think. In service to the Royals– Wait, do you know about the Seven Houses?" 

"The Royals," Steve muttered to himself, in a daze. 

"We'll go back to that," Dustin said, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eye. "What were you saying about knights?" 

"Right, so the Grimms worked as knights while the Seven Houses were establishing their claims in the Wesen world. It was basically a way for them to keep their Wesen subjects in line so that the royals could focus on human affairs. But then… Well, I don't really know what happened, but they stopped being knights and became…" Robin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Vigilantes?" 

"Like Batman?" Dustin asked, disbelieving. 

"More like the Punisher." 

"Can we please talk in a language the person whose existence hinges on this conversation can understand?" Steve asked, his voice rising in volume with every word. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Harrington," Robin said, her voice coming quicker than he had ever heard her speak before. "They kill people, okay? Sure, it's usually, like, Wesen who have killed humans before or whatever but there are stories of them just going to town on entire packs of predator species before. My dad's even told me of some groups of Grimm who kill Wesen on sight so they don't have the opportunity to commit crimes later. And it's like, do I really think the high school bully is a serial killer? No, not really, but it's really hard to externalize that when I have vivid memories of my mom telling me about how her great-great-great-great-grandmother's head got put on a spike outside the city walls for selling love potion to some stupid humans."

"Oh, that's– Sorry for your loss," Dustin said, automatically. 

Robin raised an eyebrow. "You know I didn't know her, right?" 

Steve heard neither of them through the rushing in his ears. Was it just him, or were the walls closer together than they had been five minutes ago? The floor felt malleable beneath his feet, like he was standing on top of water. Steve stumbled over to a table and sat gingerly, his hands shaking. 

He wasn't exactly sure how long had passed when Dustin came to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

"Steve?" he said, tentatively. "You okay?" Robin stood behind him, concern breaking through her careful nonchalance. 

"Hopper was wrong," he said, thickly. "I am a monster." 

"No–" Dustin began, but Robin cut him off with a scoff. 

"We're all kind of monsters, Harrington, it comes with the territory," she said with a sneer. "At least you still look human." 

"Yeah?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "How many people do you think Dustin's ancestors killed? Matter of fact, have you ever heard of a single Grimm that wasn't a killer?" Even though the question was mostly sarcastic, some part of him still hoped she would defy him, give him some proof that he wasn't meant to be a terrible person. His eyes watched her face twist in embarrassment. 

"Well… no, I haven't," Robin said, eyes darting towards Dustin. 

"Exactly," Steve said, nodding even as his shoulders deflated. "Exactly, exactly. I'm meant to… I'm meant to be a terrible person, and nothing I do– Nothing I've ever done–" Steve took a deep breath, felt it rattle in his chest, heard it wheeze through the throat that was quickly closing around his rising panic. 

"Oh, you're–" Dustin shook his head, turning to Robin. "He's– Do you have a back room?" 

"Uh, yeah, behind the counter," Robin said, blinking. 

"Alright, help me get him back there." 

Things got a little hazy after that. Steve wasn't sure how they got him to the back room, although he had the vague impression of his arms looped over both their shoulders, off jerking away from Robin's touch with a pained noise. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in the back, Robin perched on the far counter, Dustin's hands on his shoulders. 

"Steve, can you hear me?" Dustin said, and from the lack of inflection in his voice, Steve had the inclination that it wasn't the first time he'd been asked. 

"Yeah," he croaked. 

"Good," Dustin said, relief flooding his face. "I think you're having another panic attack." 

Steve flushed with shame. He hadn't one of those in months, since the chill had finally faded from the air and every night stopped reminding him of junkyards and tunnels and blue Camaros. In comparison, this seemed a little pathetic, but even that small amount of logic couldn't shake the fact that his brain was still sending him signals of flee danger predator run . 

When Steve didn't answer, Dustin squeezed his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want us to leave?" 

"We are not leaving a Grimm whose brain is god knows where alone in the back room where there are weapons– " Robin began. 

"You are not helping," Dustin interrupted through gritted teeth.

"She's right," Steve rasped. "We have no idea what I might do. You've seen what I try to do when my instincts go haywire." 

"You haven't actually done anything!" Dustin said, a none too gentle reminder. His anger was palpable, and Steve thought distantly of Hopper, of how disappointed he would be. Steve was going to be sick. "Remember your theory? You said that you thought the mirrored eyes were more like an evolutionary protection, maybe–" 

"Maybe I was literally born a murderer to protect myself?" Steve asked, laughing as the first tear slipped down his cheek. "I was wrong, Dustin. It happens. All the fucking time, apparently, because I've spent the last two years wondering how to be a good person, when it's impossible." 

"That's not how it–" 

"I'm supposed to kill you, Dustin," Steve said, harshly. "You heard her. You and El should both be dead, and maybe one day you will be." 

Steve watched the stubbornness set into Dustin's face and felt his heart break. He's never really wanted to hurt someone. Not really. That was why he kept losing all those stupid fucking fights, why he let Tommy push him around. Steve wanted to survive, and he wanted to protect, but he's never looked someone in the eyes and wanted to hurt them. But he could feel it in his chest, all the fucking time– that same rage he'd first felt when Dustin woged in front of him. And no matter how much Steve didn't want it, he was sure that one day it would swallow him whole.

"I don't believe that," Dustin said, "not for a fucking second." 

"What about my parents, Dustin?" Steve asked, meeting Dustin's eyes. For the first time, he wished that people didn't see the worst of themselves in his eyes, but the worst of Steve. That would keep them safe, wouldn't it? If they could see into his chest, at the sharp and jagged things there? "They're gone for months at a time–" 

"They're doing business!" 

"And they're all over the country, sometimes in Europe or Asia, and what the fuck do you think they're doing, Dustin? Like actually. Because I haven't bought the business excuse in years, and I know you're smarter than me, so what else could it be? I thought they were partying, or cheating on each other, or even just doing some regular fucking crime, but no–" Steve sobbed, the noise being pulled out of his chest. "Apparently, they might be killing people. What does that make me ?" 

"It doesn't make you anything," Dustin said, jaw set. "Even if you're right, which you're not ." 

"So you're not afraid of what might happen if you're staying the night the next time they come home?" 

Dustin hesitated, and Steve knew he had him. It fucking hurt, every second of it. Felt like removing his own skin with a scalpel, slow and methodical and never-ending, but it had to be done. He had to get Dustin away from danger, and right now the most dangerous thing in Hawkins was him.

"Kid, can you give us a second?" Robin's voice cut through the air and Steve flinched, his entire body twitching as his gaze was ripped away from Dustin. 

Stepping away, Dustin rubbed at his nose in a move that Steve knew had been picked up from him. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He couldn't get out of the break room fast enough, the door swinging behind him. 

"That was fucked up," Robin said as she hopped down from the counter. 

"Wasn't this exactly what you wanted?" Steve said, frustration and resentment built up from the past two months bubbling in his chest. "Him away from the monster?" 

Robin hesitated for a moment, then continued her short walk to the chair across from Steve. As she sat, she said, "I never called you a monster." 

"No, just a serial killer and a beast and a thousand other things around 'monster'," Steve said, rolling his eyes. 

He had honestly expected her to rise to the bait. She was the exact kind that was the easiest to torment, emotions too big for her body and never afraid to speak her mind until it was already out of her mouth. Robin didn't speak this time, though, just looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. 

Eventually, she sighed, and turned away from him. "I'm sorry." 

Steve scoffed, disbelieving. "Okay." 

"No, I am. I… didn't really think about what it might mean if you actually didn't know, and I had no idea that I was putting people in danger by not explaining," she said, her hands in fists on her legs. She still wouldn't look at him, and Steve felt his stomach twist further. He had to get out of here before he vomited on the linoleum. 

"Well, you figured it out, and now they're safe, so if you'll please excuse me–" 

"No," Robin said, stilling him with a glare. "I meant you, dingus." 

"... Dingus?" Steve repeated. It was… oddly juvenile, after all the things she'd called him. 

Robin flushed. "I don't actually think you're, like, a killer or anything. Especially since you obviously haven't killed anyone. I just thought…" Her eyes slid away from him again. "You know, with Barb last year…" 

Nausea hit Steve in the stomach and he had to bend over, pressing his face to the cool surface of the table, to keep himself from gagging. "You thought I killed Barb?" He hated how small his voice sounded, suddenly, nothing like the rage-fueled creature he felt like he was becoming. 

"Obviously I was being an idiot because killers don't fucking have panic attacks in the dark about being a killer," Robin said. Steve wasn't sure that was entirely true, but he got her point. "I mean, like I said before, I stopped believing that shit like two weeks in. If you were actually a serial killer, I would be, like, so dead right now." 

"I never wanted to hurt you," Steve said, tired. 

"I know," Robin said, frowning. "And that's why I'm saying, I was an asshole, and I'm sorry." 

Steve swallowed. "It's fine." 

"It's really not," Robin said. "I could tell it made you upset, and it gave me this sick little thrill to finally know what got to King Steve, you know? Like I finally had something over you. And it made me feel…" 

"Powerful?" Steve suggested when her words trailed off. 

"Yeah," Robin said, her face pale. 

"I get it," Steve said, shrugging. "Why do you think I was such an asshole in high school?" 

Robin gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, I never wanted to be that kind of person. So… You know, just because you were born a Grimm doesn't mean you have to be like them." 

Looking away, Steve said nothing. He'd already had the suspicion there was something wrong with him, Robin had just confirmed it. Her taking it back hadn't really changed his mind. Robin seemed to get that, and she squirmed in her seat for a moment. 

"I never told you what I am, did I?" she said, softly.

"... No," Steve said, frowning. "I thought maybe some kind of weasel?" 

That made her laugh, shaking her head as she smiled down at her hands. "Yeah, I guess maybe I deserve that. No, I'm a– I'm a Fuchsbau. A fox." The smile began to slip from her face, fists unclenching and curling back into claws again and again as she spoke. "That's part of why I freaked out so hard when I first recognized you as a Grimm. We're a predator species, you know? But not one of the big guys, not scary enough that they leave us alone. We're just mean . And… and sneaky . And cruel." 

Steve watched her, unable to speak. He had seen a little of that from her, over the past few weeks, so he wasn't entirely sure he was justified in defending her own self-worth, but… even as she said it, something didn't feel right to Steve. Sure, she was dick to him, like, specifically, but Steve had never seen her speak a harsh word to anyone else they worked with. Robin was usually pretty bored with customers, yeah, but she was patient, too. 

And whatever harshness did exist in her, it certainly wasn't subtle .

"That's why my parents moved here, you know. Fuchsbau don't usually have packs, and so it's kinda just… you and a bunch of Wesen who expect you to rip them off at the first chance," Robin continued, "so they came here to try and start fresh. And I don't think they ever really fit into what a Fuchsbau is supposed to be, and most times I'm pretty sure I don't, either, but sometimes…." 

Robin shrugged. "Sometimes I'm afraid it's somewhere inside of me, just waiting to get out." 

Oh. 

This was one of those pep talks that made Steve squirm, the kind where teachers and coaches and counselors all promised Steve that they absolutely understood what he was going through. As if they could understand what he was feeling through the little he'd actually admitted, as if the simple act of relation was enough to soothe the ache in his chest. Knowing other people hurt didn't make him bleed any less, but… it didn't chafe to hear it from Robin, like it did with the dozens of adults before him. He wasn't sure she actually understood, but at least she was trying. At least she wasn't just assuming things. Not anymore, anyway. 

"It's not exactly the same thing," Robin said, when Steve didn't speak. "But I–" 

"No, no." Steve's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks. I think I needed to hear that. You're right, it's not exactly the same, but… But I think I might be able to fight this." 

"That's not exactly what I…" Robin said, then shook her head, standing. "Anyway, you should head home for the night." 

Steve blinked up at her. "I'm on schedule until closing." 

Shrugging, Robin said, "We're dead, and, no offense, but you're probably not going to be much help tonight, anyway. I'll cover you. Just… get some sleep, Harrington." 

It was part of an apology Steve still wasn't convinced he completely deserved, but he wasn't in the position to refuse favors. "... Thanks." 

They walked into the lobby together, Steve's skin crawling with the oddity of feeling Robin standing with him and not just by him. He was grateful, but there was a voice in his head whispering that it would all end one day, and he would find her claws in his throat. 

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Dustin barely spoke as Steve drove him home, only to nearly tackle him in a hug before he got out of the car. Tried not to think about how he couldn't pop in to say hi to Mrs. Henderson because she would think– she would know –that he was a monster. Tried not to think much at all, really. 

Steve found himself driving to the cabin on muscle memory alone, and didn't even notice the direction he was driving until the streetlights gave way to the shadowy cradle of the woods. He parked in the grass, climbed the steps stiffly, paused between every movement as Steve ruminated on the effort it took. 

Hopper didn't look up from the stove as Steve came in. It was chili night, a tradition built around one of the few dishes Hopper had achieved consistency in. Maybe that was why Steve had come here– Something in him knew he was expected here. People were waiting for him. He was wanted. 

Steve felt tears well in his eyes. 

"Steve?" Hopper clicked off the gas on the stove, turning. "Did… did work go okay?" 

The dam broke. Everything came pouring out, the tears, the half-explanations Robin had given him, the terrible truths he now was sure of. Everything poured out of Steve at once, until he was sitting on the couch, gasping for air. Hopper watched him through all of it, never saying a word. His face gave nothing away, and that only made it worse– Steve kept talking and talking, trying to find the words that would make Hopper feel something. Anything. 

Eventually, the terror took over his brain and he fell silent, but his throat still clenched around unformed words. 

"I've told you before, I'm not afraid of you, kid," Hopper said, slowly, but before Steve could protest, he continued, "but you have a right to be concerned about it, you know, in general. It might be you, it might not. But if there's some kind of Wesen vigilante, after everything that's happened in Hawkins in the past two years, one of them's bound to cause trouble sometime." 

"So we just– We gotta figure out how to take one down," Steve said, his hands shaking. 

"I figure shooting 'em will work just as well as it would on anyone else," Hopper said, dryly, "but I don't think you have to worry about that." 

"No, no, you can–" Steve flushed at the sudden sharpness on Hopper's face. "Look, if I'm actively hurting people, I'm too far gone, anyway. Have Nancy do it. She'll get a kick out of it." 

Hopper rolled his eyes, then sighed, rubbing at his face with one large hand. "And what if it's your parents, Steve?" 

That threw him. Because Steve had considered that his parents were the kind of Grimms Steve was terrified to become, yeah. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Steve had always been anxious around them, for no reason he could really put a name to. They weren't bad parents, exactly, just a little absent. They had never denied him anything, never hit him, never even really yelled. But Steve still flinched every time his father raised a hand to clasp him on the shoulder. Steve still shied away from his mother's gaze. 

Steve had always thought it had something to do with all the repression, the constant striving to live up to the Harrington name. That had been enough of an answer for him. Besides, the older he got, the less he had to deal with it, so what did it even matter? 

The idea that it might be something more sinister still hadn't prepared him for the concept of actually doing something about it, though. Sure, he had proposed the idea of them being dangerous to Dustin, but it wasn't like they were killing people and burying them behind the Hawkins Lab. 

"Do you think they already are?" Steve asked, face twisting. "There were genetic experiments on Wesen in the town they lived in. How did they not–" 

Hopper shrugged. "I don't know for sure, kid. Speaking as a cop, if their thought process is anything like mine, they probably don't pursue leads they consider out of their jurisdiction, and it wasn't like the lab was advertising. Will was the first Hawkins kid to go missing, remember?" 

"They were out of town when he disappeared," Steve said, relief evident. "They didn't get home until he was back." 

"I can't promise you anything, Steve, and you're probably gonna want to have it out with them yourself. But your parents have been in and out of Hawkins for two decades now, and it's not exactly like we've got stacks and stacks of cold case murders rotting away at the station. If they're causing problems, it's not here," Hopper said. 

Steve leaned back against the couch cushions, finally letting himself relax. "We just have to make sure they don't find out about El." 

"There you go," Hopper said, reaching out to slap Steve on the knee. It would have felt condescending from anyone else, but it was the most physical affection that Steve had ever seen Hopper give anyone besides Joyce and El. "Feel better with a task, right?" 

"Yeah, actually," Steve admitted. It did feel good, even though it was a small, vague goal that honestly Steve kinda hoped he never had to worry about. Still, having something clear in his head to strive for made him feel solid, grounded, and he felt like an actual person again for the first time all day. 

If Grimms were as bad as Robin made them out to be, then someone needed to protect Hawkins from them. Steve could be that person, if he needed to be, even if the threat was just his own reflection. 

[Next Chapter]

---

taglist: @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[yougavememyopia]

Continuation of this. A bit suggestive at the end.

Loser yandere was on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He got ahead of himself. Sucking your fingers like a perverted freak. He looked up at you with glassy eyes, pouting just slightly. He didn't mind your pity. In fact, he wanted it. The worst he made himself look, the more you let things pass.

You sighed, ultimately having no choice but to forgive him. He looked so sad, so lonely. Like a stray puppy begging for attention. Why wouldn't you spare his feelings? He had no real friends. It made sense that he didn't know how to act properly.

Except he did. He was just manipulating you, saying the right things to make you cave and hang out with him. He would speak with a certain depressed tone that would melt your heart, and when you agreed, he would become extremely happy. Cheering and overreacting. A great excuse to excitedly hug you. Throw his arms around your shoulders and get lost in your scent.

He was strangely smart. Using both negative and positive reinforcement. Getting you to say yes to avoid making him sad, and making you feel content by his contagious smile. All part of his plan that'll eventually end with you two happily engaged.

Even if that strategy didn't work, he'd just whine and beg. He knew you couldn't take it. You would glare at him, and he'd feel a strange sensation through his body. Sometimes, he wondered how being hit by you would feel like. Or maybe with your hand wrapped around his throat.

Given how much he bothered you, it was a miracle you were still friends with him. It wasn't all that bad. You somehow had fun hanging around with him, laughing at his silly jokes. He'd take you to so many places. Always making sure you were enjoying your time so you'd come back for more!

When you weren't in public, he'd get clingy. It was obvious he was touch-starved and a big attention seeker. He wanted to have you touch him, get close to him, and pay attention to him. Only him.

"I can't get this stupid button undone... Can you help me take this shirt off? Come onnn, it's way too hot in this room..."

"Look how good I smell. Come on, sniff my neck. It's a new thing I bought. It smells like your favorite!"

"I'm so hungry, and my hands are all tired. Ughh.. Can you feed me a snack? I'll open my mouth wide for you. Aaah~"

He'd still bug you about the kiss. Not ever talking about the incident afterwards. Those few months of reinforcement should've made you softer to him. He should've been able to get you to agree. But you stayed determined to deny him.

"I want a kiss already... Why can't you, my bestest friend, show me how it feels~? All of these movies have one. I'm being reminded of how much of a loser I am every single day." He grumpily said to himself as you both watched a weird horror movie. The scared couple on the screen made out to relieve their stress... or something. It was a strange movie he (purposely) picked.

"Can't you fucking understand?! It'll change this whole relationship. I told you that a million times." You crossed your arms, darting your gaze from the movie to him.

He sighed. You sighed. Then you exchanged a look. "Alright. Fine. You're not gonna stop asking, are you? Just promise me you won't act all awkward after it."

He lit up, nodding eagerly. "Really?! Oh, wow! Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You're the best! Seriously. A life saver~"

"Shut it." You groaned, watching the last bits of the movie with the characters escaping.

"Yes, ma'am. You got it." He climbed on your lap. That made you stiff a bit, looking at him with a confused look. He set his legs on your sides, his arms wrapping around your neck. "How is this gonna work? Can you please do it very slowly?"

"Eh...? Okay. Whenever you're ready." You wrapped your arm around his waist, not knowing what else to do with them. He hummed happily. His face came closer to you, and somehow, you felt nervous. You shrugged it off, letting him kiss you at his own pace.

"Here I go..." he whispered, his nose rubbing against yours.

He pressed a small peck on your lips as if to test out how it feels. Before you could correct him, he kissed you again. This time longer and harder. You squeaked at the suddenness, forced to lean back against the couch as he began to lick your lips, asking for entry.

You reluctantly opened your mouth, and he wasted no time. Pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Lapping at anything he could find. Your tongue brushed against each other, eliciting a moan from him. His hand held the back of your head to keep you from pulling away. Shifting a bit on your lap, whimpering against your lips.

He kept licking your tongue, sucking on it. He moaned again when you finally returned the kiss. His movements were clumsy, making it easier for you to take control. After a minute, he pulled away, panting as he buried his face into your neck. He seemed embarrassed, and so you hugged his waist tighter.

He moaned against your neck. "Ah.. that felt so nice. Mmh, shit..."

"Yeah... you got a little ahead of yourself, y'know. It was supposed to be a simple kiss. I never said tongue was allowed." You pointed out. Rolling your eyes, because you knew he didn't care.

"You never said it wasn't." He sat up to look you, tilting his head innocently. "I would've listened to you if you said it."

"No, you wouldn't have." You mumbled.

"You also didn't say I can't go for another one~!" He leaned in again and captured your lips in another kiss. You protested, hands gripping his shoulders now to push him away. He whined, sucking your lips as if that would change your mind. "But, please, just one more. I still haven't learned the proper technique yet."

You were beginning to understand that he had a different reason for overstepping boundaries. The way he kissed you, the way he tried to savor your taste, the way his pressed his body against yourself. It was like he was trying to devour you. Trying to be one with you.

He moaned loudly when he pulled away. His body was shaking a bit, his eyes dilating. Something pressed against your stomach. You didn't need to look down to see what it was. "Um... Oops?"

[gutsby]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.

Word count: 1.9k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

Maybe a hand was too much.

A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.

And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.

Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.

“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”

You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.

Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:

“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.

“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”

He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.

He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.

“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”

His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.

“Joel,” you mewled.

Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.

Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

It worked, and it didn’t.

Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.

The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.

Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—

“Joel, I—”

Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.

He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.

Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.

And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.

Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.

You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.

“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.

You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.

Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”

And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.

Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.

“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”

You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.

“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.

You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.

Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”

“I want your babies, Joel.”

“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”

“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”

Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.

It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.

But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.

Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.

“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.

“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.

That part was not a threat, but a promise.

You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—

A twig snapped nearby.

Both of you froze in place.

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི my bunny girl decided to mess me up with her late night thoughts! I had to write this. made it all pretty just for you!!! mwah mwah lovee youu!! @bunnyrafe

 𐙚 : icky!rafe x reader 

𐙚 warnings: this is pretty nasty so if you’re not into this kind of thing I wouldn’t read it. 

𐙚 rafe being icky, corruption, innocent reader, use of the word “dad” & “daddy”, 18+ mdni

when you finally let him hit he’s over the moon. he’s so nasty. measuring his cock to your stomach. getting to see how big it is against it. it’s reaching past your belly button. & you look up at him with wide doe eyes, hiccuping, asking him “is it gonna hurt daddy?” “do you think it’ll fit?” he taps his cock against your tummy making you jump. “nah- it’s- you’re going to feel so good.” he wasn’t lying. it was going to feel good. really good. eventually. he lines his cock up with your wet cunt. the sight of it almost makes him cum right then and there. “daddy…maybe we should try this another time? I’m a little scared” he cuts you off giving you a sharp slap to your cheek. “what did I tell you about that shit? what? you-you don’t trust dad?” tears start to brim up in your eyes. the last thing you wanted was to make him upset. “no no no I trust you daddy! I promise!” he smirks when he hears you spewing out apologies. bullying his cock in your little hole. not giving you any time to adjust.

now you’re over the moon. he corrupted you. you have never felt anything like this. it felt so so so good you didn’t want him to stop. you wanted him to use you just for his pleasure. it didn’t matter what it was. the sounds that filled the room were adding on to that fuzzy feeling that you felt every time you were around him. skin slapping. ah ah ah’s leaving those pretty lips. rafe moaning, growling, about how good your little pussy makes him feel. you were so sooo sticky and wet. creaming around his cock. feeling it kiss your cervix over and over again. those doe eyes staring up at him. asking, no, begging him for more. clawing at him wanting to be in his skin. he’d pull out every now and then watched you as you whimpered, squirmed. & whined. “please please put it back in daddy!! please!!” he loved watching that cute pussy clench around nothing. watching it beg to be wrapped back around him. “shittttt bun I told you it’ll feel really good. look at you. can’t get enough, can you? going all dumb for my cock.” 

he had finally gotten what he wanted. what he dreamed about after seeing your cute little ass at Tanny Hill a couple of months ago giving him sweet eyes.

[fastandcarlos]

What Baby Wants, Baby Gets : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: he might try and guilt you for making him go out in the early hours to satisfy your cravings, but you won't let him win

You couldn’t help but smile as Max groaned beside you, his arms stretching up before his hands ran over his face, head tilting to his left so that he could glance across and take a look at you. 

“Morning,” you whispered, resting your head down against his shoulder. “Did you have a good sleep?” You then asked, sniggering as Max scoffed, his head immediately shaking across at you. 

In the early hours you found yourself struggling, unable to push the thoughts of your cravings to the back of your mind. For a while Max managed to ignore it, but eventually he made the mistake of asking if you wanted something, only for you to tell him yes. 

It felt like a figure of speech when you first fell pregnant, with Max telling you to get him if you needed something, wherever, whenever. But he didn’t quite imagine himself actually being woken up at two in the morning with you begging him to help you out. 

“Last night was a one-time thing,” Max told you, covering his mouth as he let go of a yawn. “Do you know how long it took for me to fall back to sleep? Especially with you snoring right beside me.” 

An apology came from you, but so did a chuckle as Max glared down at you. As soon as your craving what satisfied, you found yourself easily able to fall asleep, not worrying about Max and the fact that he was now the restless one tucked up beside you. 

Although he teased, he was relieved to see you resting though, knowing just how little sleep you were getting with your baby constantly reminding you that he was there. 

“I do appreciate what you did last night,” you whispered, brushing your hand gently through Max’s hair. “You didn’t have to get up and run to the store.” 

“I did, because I promised that I would always do whatever I could to help you,” Max reminded you, kissing against the top of your head, “and what baby wants, baby gets.” 

Your head nodded as Max trailed one of his hands down to rest against the top of your baby bump, his smile wide as he felt just how big it was again, knowing that you were already nearing the halfway mark. 

“I know for a fact that this little one appreciates what you do too, they were feeling particularly peckish last night,” you added, pressing a kiss to Max’s shoulder. 

His eyes rolled as once again you used the baby to get to him, knowing that if there was one person that he couldn’t say no to, it was definitely your baby. 

“I can’t wait for when the baby arrives so I can tell you to go and get your own food again,” Max joked, “you won’t be able to treat me like your slave anymore.” 

“You’re so dramatic, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy all of this.” 

It wasn’t exactly his favourite thing to do getting up in the early hours of the morning, but knowing that he was helping you out did fill Max with pride. 

“Maybe I’d enjoy it more if you asked at a decent time,” he laughed in response. 

“I don’t think I get much of a choice, if you’ve got a problem, bring it up with your child instead,” you smiled, tapping against your baby bump. 

Max’s eyes watched over you carefully as you moved closer into his side, moving one of your hands to rest against the small of your back. A groan came from you as you tried to get comfortable again, a game that you had been playing with your child for several weeks now. 

“Do you think the baby knows the most inconvenient times are to be annoying to us?” You asked Max, hearing a chuckle come from him. “Why can’t they be restless at lunch? That would be perfect.” 

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to tell the time yet,” Max sniggered, squeezing around your frame. “It’s going to get easier, hopefully the cravings will stop soon.” 

Your head nodded as Max tried his best to reassure you. Whenever you were struggling, he was right there with you, somehow Max always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better, making sure to hold onto you too to let you know that he was there. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Max whispered closely to your ear, “whatever comes our way then we’re just going to take it on together and find a way to figure things out.” 

You hummed as Max spoke, a lot more doubtful than he was. If he could, Max would read just about every baby book, watch every documentary, absorb as much knowledge as he possibly could to make sure he knew exactly what to do in every possible situation. 

“If it’s not morning sickness it’s cravings, and then once that finishes then it’s going to be the lack of sleep, soon enough I’m not even going to be able to see my feet.” 

Before you could continue, Max quickly shushed you. “And I’ll be there to help you with all of that, no matter where we are or when it is.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the early hours?” 

Max jabbed against your side as you teased him, knowing that regardless of the time he would always be there. It hurt him a lot seeing you so uncomfortable so often, he wished that there was more that he could do to make your life easier than it currently was. 

“If I were you, I’d make the most of me running around after you,” Max grinned, “because once the baby is here, they’ll be the only person I’ll be waking up at three o’clock in the morning for.” 

“You mean to say you’d leave me to fend for myself?” 

“Absolutely,” Max jokingly smiled, “you’re capable of getting up and sorting yourself out, a little baby isn’t quite as developed as you are.” 

“I’m spending nine months growing this child of yours, just in case you’ve forgotten that,” you quickly reminded him. 

“I know, I’m just messing with you,” Max assured, squeezing your frame. “I might have to cut myself in half so one part of me can look after you and the other look after the baby, that way I might just be able to be in two places at once.” 

“I’ll be alright,” you whispered, only for Max’s head to shake, refusing to let you take care of yourself straight away once the baby arrived. 

It didn’t matter whether you were pregnant or not, injured or in peak condition, Max loved looking after you and would always do so, regardless of how much you sometimes protested against him. 

Now more than ever he was glued to your side, he’d tease you and mess with you but he wouldn’t have it any other way, being able to help you was one of the things he enjoyed the most at the moment. 

“I can’t wait to see how things play out over the next few months, how big of a change is about to take place in our lives,” Max mused, resting his head on top of yours. 

“I’m terrified,” you admitted, “no one can predict how this is going to play out, there’s a fear of the unknown lingering in the back of my mind right now.” 

“You don’t need to worry,” Max assured you, “no matter what happens, we’re going to face it together, I’m going to be right here with you.” 

“Even in the early hours of the morning?” 

“Even in the early hours my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[trulyumai]

unfit and disloyal

Pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Seeing your husband get so close with another woman, you confront him. But such an accusation of disloyalty makes anger swell up bubble beneath his skin. Until eventually it oozes out and onto you, his darling wife.

Warnings: Geta gets violent, angry.

A/N: This was highly requested, thank you all so much for the messages and comments!

A glass was thrown, shattered against the back wall of the chamber. Geta let out a surprised cry, still bent towards the ground in the quick action that fled his senses. He had expected a hug, maybe a kiss of welcome from his pretty wife.

“You idiot—you fool! You... you—!”

Another cup was already in your hands, and Geta barely made it behind a merciful beam that splayed out in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing, wife?!” Geta’s voice was hoarse with confusion as he peered from behind the pillar, his chest rising and falling from the sudden burst of chaos. He had prepared himself for an evening of peace after the long day—he had not been ready for war within his own walls. Where was his sweet wife to dote on him? To kiss and smother his face with little pecks, to hug his frame like it was the missing piece you were waiting for?

“What am I doing?" you snarled. "What am I doing?" Your hands shook with fury as dainty fingers fumbled for another object to throw. Your eyes, usually soft and full of warmth, were now blazing with a fire he had never seen before. “You dare to ask me that when I saw you with her? You let her touch you, let her throw herself on you like—like a dog in heat!”

Geta’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall how you could have come to such a conclusion. Woman? What woman? He was with you all night! The only time he wasn’t was when you had stepped away after the dessert had been devoured, kissing his cheek as you uttered a tired departure.

He meant to follow, but decided to finish his goblet first—and then it hit him. The realization sank in. The woman who had placed herself upon his knee, whispered generous actions and promises without batting an eye.

"Her? You mean the woman at the celebration?" He stepped out from behind the beam cautiously, raising his hands in surrender. A laugh already escaping him from such a deluded thought. “She meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was dealt with, pretty wife, without a second thought!”

You scoffed, laughter bitter and sharp. "Nothing? You looked like you were enjoying yourself, while I stood there, watching, like a fool. And in front of the citizens... Have you no shame, husband?" The words were spat with venom, the kind of harshness only Geta had spoken with before.

Geta’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You left before you saw what happened next. I pushed her off the moment you turned away, threw her to the ground like the vermin she was for daring to disrespect you.” He took a step closer, trying to close the distance between you. “I grabbed her by the face and told her to remember her place—unless she wished to be charged with treason. Wife, trust me, I beg of you.”

Your grip faltered, and the third cup clattered to the floor. Your breathing was uneven, the anger mingling with something else now—uncertainty. “Then why didn’t you stop her sooner? Why did you let her touch you in the first place? Why bestow such a public betrayal onto me?”

Geta’s shoulders sagged. He was exhausted, emotionally worn from the day’s battles, and now here he was, fighting the one person he loved most. The shift in the air was palpable now, the sting of your words pressing further into his skin. The thought of you doubting him, even for a moment, sparked something darker within him. His eyes darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“You accuse me of betrayal?” His voice, though low at first, began to rise, sharp and jagged as he stepped closer, each footfall deliberate. “You think I’d ever choose someone else over you?” The fury in his tone rattled the air between you, and his body towered over yours now, his shadow swallowing the small frame you stood in.

His breath came fast and heavy as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. “Do you know what kind of man you married? The kind who would crush anyone who dared stand between us!” His words came like thunder, reverberating against the stone walls, spit flying from his mouth in his rage. “I've killed men, burned them at the stake, slit their throats for weaker words. Yet you still sit there.. And look at me with such animosity, hm?”

Your body recoiled instinctively, shrinking away from his imposing presence. For the first time, there was fear in your eyes—fear of him. Geta’s breath hitched at the sight of you trembling beneath his gaze. He froze, his fury draining as quickly as it had flared. He blinked, his body suddenly stiff as realization set in.

He had never meant to frighten you.

“I didn’t...” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his jaw still clenched tight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stood frozen, still shaken, your breath shallow. Geta took a step back, releasing a slow breath as he fought to control himself, his fists relaxing at his sides. “Pretty wife, listen to me,” he rasped, voice now gentler, though it trembled. “I was angry. But not at you. Never at you.”

“But you said-” 

“I know.” He interrupted, already regret bit at the seams of his mind. He didn't need a reminder.

Ringed fingers reached for your cheek, gently wiping away the spit that had landed on your skin. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was soft, desperate, as though each word were pulling him further from the edge of the abyss he had been teetering on.

You looked at him, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “I saw you with her,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And for a moment, I believed it. All the rumors. The lies. I believed you had chosen someone else.”

Geta’s heart clenched. He could see it now—how fragile your faith had become. He stepped closer, cupping your face with his large, calloused hands. “Never,” he breathed. “There is no one else for me. There never will be.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m always competing with the world for you?”

His chest tightened, the weight of your words sinking in. “You aren’t competing. There’s no contest. I may belong to Rome, to the battlefield, to the politics of the Empire... but my heart, my soul, they belong to you.”

You searched his face for a long moment, and the anger finally faded, giving way to vulnerability. Letting out a shaky breath, you leaned into his chest, your voice small and muffled against his tunic. “I'm sorry, husband.”

Geta wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chin rested on top of your head as he whispered, “It's okay.” 

He breathed in your scent, sweet and intoxicating to his overburdened mind. 

“It's okay.”

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.��

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[pathologicalreid]

christmas (baby please come home) | s.r.

in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: spencer's first post prison christmas, frankensteined the plot of "surface tension", the same family as "here with me", crying, christmas word count: 3.19k a/n: merry christmas!! this is kinda like my gift to you, mostly since it's been sitting in my brain for forever!!!!!!! i love u all! also happy first day of hanukkah if you celebrate <33

“But Daddy’s not home,” your daughter whimpered as she shuffled under her covers, she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You carefully smoothed out the top of her floral comforter, “I know, baby,” you whispered, reaching up to pinch her cheek affectionately. You’d let them stay up late to watch the Santa tracker, but eventually, Finn fell asleep on you, and Livvy’s yawns were enough to convince you that it was bedtime. “You still have to go to sleep. Santa will come whether Daddy’s home or not, and we’ll just do the gifts from Mommy and Daddy when he gets back.”

At three years old, Olivia was beginning to understand Spencer being gone the same way Eleanor did; she knew his absence was entirely out of her control, and that didn’t sit well with your middle child. You knew you had gotten incredibly lucky when Spencer had been home for Finn’s birthday and Livvy’s had fallen during his sabbatical, but you also knew that you were due for a missed holiday, you just wished it could’ve been Thanksgiving or New Year’s.

You kissed her forehead before leaving, making sure to leave the door open a crack so the monsters wouldn’t get her before you went to Nell’s room. “Hey, honey,” you whispered, closing your eldest’s door behind you before going to sit on the edge of her bed. She had her own Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room, the artificial purple tree providing the glow that her nightlight normally would. “Are you ready for bed?”

Nell was lying on top of her covers, staring at her still ceiling fan as she ignored your question. While Livvy was just starting to understand what it meant when Spencer was gone, Nell understood it best, and she had for years now. She’d understood when Spencer was in prison, and she understood that he was missing Christmas now.

Slowly, you laid down next to your daughter, propping your head up on the bed and smoothing her hair back. “It’s still Christmas,” you tried to reassure her, but part of you knew that it was a thankless effort, there was nothing you could tell her that would fix her father’s absence. “We can call Dad in the morning while we open presents,” you offered, hoping she’d appreciate you coming halfway. “If he’s not busy, maybe we can video chat, and you can show him everything Santa brought you.”

“It’s not the same,” she told you, furrowing her brows and turning away from you on the bed.

Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “I know, Nellie. I know it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be here for Christmas, but Daddy will come back.” There was a sense of urgency in your voice; you were afraid that if your five-year-old lost the joy in Christmas, you’d somehow failed her as a mother. “He’ll be home for your birthday, I promise,” you whispered.

“You can’t promise,” she reminded you, knowing that you and Spencer were generally very specific about your promises, leaning toward the ‘I promise I’ll try’ variety.

You hummed in response, “I’d pinky promise you that. Dad will be home for your birthday.” You held up your pinky finger, waiting for her to roll over and reciprocate.

Eleanor rolled over, holding up her pinky finger while brown eyes watched you apprehensively, “Okay,” she breathed, hooking your fingers together and kissing them.

As soon as Spencer told you about the bureau’s contingency to him returning to the BAU, you’d done the math. Eleanor’s sixth birthday would fall near the beginning of his next sabbatical, so you didn’t hesitate to make this promise. “It’s time for bed, my girl,” you whispered, smiling at her softly as she pulled the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas over her hands. “Santa can’t come if you’re not asleep,” you reminded her, sitting up on the bed and getting up, tucking her purple comforter under her chin before you made your final stop of the night.

You’d brought Finn to his room before getting the girls settled, but now that you knew they were alright, you came back to his room. The white noise machine was going, and he was fast asleep in his crib. His pacifier, which you were trying to wean him off of, had fallen from his mouth and onto the sheets, so you set it to the side. To you, the second Christmas was always more exciting than the first, now that he was fourteen months old, he had the dexterity to help open presents.

Ruffling his hair, you kissed him goodnight, just like you’d done with the girls, and you left his room, closing the door so that no one would disturb the light-sleeping baby.

There was a late night ahead of you, but first, you settled yourself onto the couch in the living room and pulled out your phone. Upon opening your messages with Spencer, you couldn’t help but be disappointed to find that there was nothing unread. You thought about sending him a text telling him that you all miss him but eventually decided against it. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty. At least, no more guilty than he likely already did.

You turned on the TV, quietly playing a Christmas movie as you began the festivities. All of the gifts had been expertly hidden in the master bedroom, split between being shoved under your bed and in your closet, but a new playhouse for the girls had been dropped off earlier. It was too big for your room, so your parents had stored it in their basement in the interim.

That would be a struggle to bring in from the garage, so you decided to start small, pulling all of the kids’ stockings from their hooks and laying them out on the floor before going upstairs to get the stuffers.

With the movie playing, you filled the stockings with treats and little toys. A few times you imagined your phone buzzing, but each time there was nothing on the screen. The loneliness started to set in as you rehung the stockings, making sure the kids’ names faced forward above the fireplace.

This wasn’t your first Christmas alone, Spencer had been in Idaho for Olivia’s first Christmas, but neither of the girls remembered it.

They’d remember this one, you thought to yourself, walking back up the stairs to grab a load of boxes. Thankfully, they were already wrapped, but you did have to avoid getting ribbon in your mouth as you carried the armful of gifts down the stairs.

Masterfully, you adjusted them beneath the tree, trying to visualize where they’d all end up in the end as you heard something distantly, but you brushed it off as someone leaving your neighbor’s holiday party. You stood up, wiping your hands on your pajamas as you evaluated your handiwork, shrugging before you turned around for the next load, “Oh,” you breathed, watching the handle on the door from the garage turn.

The door opened slowly, revealing your husband on the other side, his black peacoat draped over his arm and purple scarf looped around his neck. He hooked his car keys on the key hook before he noticed you, brown eyes finding your pajama-clad figure. His lopsided smile was all-knowing as always, he knew he had surprised you. In fact, it had been his goal.

You remained exactly where you were, watching him from the den as he put his shoes away and hung up his outerwear. It was almost as if you’d convinced yourself he was a mirage, and any sudden movements would cause his visage to dissipate. “Hey,” Spencer said, cocking his head at you as if he were confused why you hadn’t come any closer to him. He peeked around you to look at the tree, “Did the kids get to bed okay?”

Instead of answering him, your body naturally responded to what seemed like the miraculous appearance of your husband by producing tears. At first, they just welled along your lash line, but as they started to fall, you buried your face in your hands.

Spencer was there, not only in the house but also taking the initiative to approach you, he wrapped his arms around your torso, taking your tearful form under his care, “Is everything alright?” He asked, slowly dragging his hand up and down your spine, humming as you reciprocated his embrace and pressed your face into his shirt, drying your eyes and taking in the moment.

“Everything is wonderful,” you responded, your voice muffled by his shirt. He smelled like stale dark roast and the jet, but you were too relieved by his arrival to truly mind.

Tightening his grip briefly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Right, well. You’re crying, so I had to make sure,” he murmured, swaying gently to the music coming from the film.

You loosed a breath of relief, “I can’t believe you’re here. The kids were miserable at bedtime, Nell wouldn’t even talk to me until I told her you’ll be home for her birthday,” you informed him, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around him while you tipped your head back to see him.

Spencer nodded in understanding, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “We made the arrest at eight and wrapped up around nine. Somehow, Emily convinced the pilot to leave in the middle of the night, and we were on the jet by ten. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent holidays in worse places, but I’d rather be here with you than in Milwaukee.”

“I will kiss Emily Prentiss on the mouth,” you told him candidly.

He raised his brows curiously, “Mhm, and what about me?”

Grinning, you pushed up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his, an amalgamation of a welcome home and a Merry Christmas kiss, but you pulled away before you could get carried away. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid, we have work to do,” you told him, taking on a mock seriousness as you nodded your head toward the Christmas tree, which only had a fraction of your kids’ gifts beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Spencer reciprocated, pressing one more kiss to your lips, “Let’s get started.”

Spinning out of his grip, you found you had much more pep in your step with his arrival, beaming as the two of you went through the house as quietly as possible, gathering the gifts for the kids without rousing any suspicion. Even grabbing the playhouse from the garage didn’t seem like as much of a task with him around.

You adjusted the stockings as it neared two in the morning, Spencer returned from upstairs with the last few gifts, having changed his clothes into pajamas that neatly matched yours—a family set that was a gift from your Penelope. “They look great,” Spencer assured you, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stood back, admiring your handiwork.

Walking backward until your back was against your chest, you tilted your head to the side, appraising the mountain of gifts beneath the tree, “Do you think we went overboard this year?” Between the gifts from Santa and the gifts from the two of you, the heap was rather intimidating.

“No,” Spencer answered, “bigger kids, bigger gifts.” He put his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, “besides, they’re good kids.”

You hummed in response, leaning into him ever so slightly. Part of you felt like Spencer was still experiencing guilt surrounding the three months he spent away from you and the kids while he was in prison. No amount of time at home or therapy would ever absolve him of that guilt, but it never hurt to try, “Hey,” you whispered up to him, “I got you something.”

He frowned down at you, “I thought we said no gifts this year?”

Scoffing, you walked over to the home office, “We say that every year and neither of us ever stick to it, so go get whatever it is you got for me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but even so, he made his way upstairs to where you knew a gift was hiding in his bedside table. Upon his return, he faltered at the large box you’d placed on the coffee table and held up the small box in his hands; you beamed at him as he eyed the behemoth of a present.

He handed you the smaller box, instinctively, you admired the wrapping before starting to open it, recognizing the jewelry box before you had even discarded your wrapping paper. “Oh, Spence,” you said, looking at the necklace in the box, a dainty chain with five small gemstones on it. His birthstone and yours, followed by Nell’s amethyst, Livvy’s sapphire, and Finn’s tourmaline all strung next to each other, “it’s perfect,” you told him, lightly touching the gems with your fingertips. You’d mentioned wishing you had an everyday necklace a few weeks ago while getting ready, and he must’ve been listening more attentively than you’d thought.

Finally, you had him open his gift, and he was entirely speechless as he opened the cardboard flaps. His mouth gaped as he lifted one of the books in his hand, the title and edition identical to one that had been previously ruined in your house. “Fuck,” he cursed, looking from you to the books and back again.

You shrugged, “It’s not all of them, but a pretty good amount of them. Some of those editions are proving difficult to recover, but I’ve—” You’re cut off, startled by Spencer pressing his lips to yours. “I’m still looking for some,” you said breathlessly once he pulled away.

Spencer seemed unsure of what to do with himself; you’d managed to find replacements for three-fourths of the books that had previously been burned by an accidental fire set earlier this year. The only time your marriage had ever been on the rocks was when Diana lived with you, but even then, you’d been planning this surprise. “You are…” Spencer started, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, “This is incredible,” he told you, shaking his head in disbelief, setting the book down in the box and nearly tackling you in a hug.

Laughing, you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound, “I love you,” you murmured to him, his body now next to yours on the couch.

“I love you too,” he said, looking at you with glassy eyes. “Wow,” he said, sniffling, “I need to get you something else. A necklace isn’t enough,” he told you, likely already thinking of options for addendums.

You shook your head, “Trust me when I tell you that your being here is worth all of the rare books in the world to me,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. Humming, you adjusted your head on the pillow, “Are you gonna fall asleep like this?”

He nodded, “If you keep playing with my hair like that. How long do you think we have until they wake up?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed while you peeked over him to check the time.

Last year, Finn had woken up the whole house on Christmas Day at four in the morning, and seeing as it was nearing three, you wondered if it was worth sleeping at all. You continued combing through Spencer’s hair, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“This is a really great couch,” he mumbled, already falling asleep on the couch, leading you to grab the blanket that was thrown over the back and haphazardly drape it over the two of you.

Unfortunately, it felt like you’d gotten no sleep at all when you heard the first stirring upstairs, “Mommy,” Olivia called out, which would likely wake up Finn and Nell.

You got up from the couch, waking up Spencer in the process. Your poor husband, who was probably already running on little sleep, got up and folded the blanket you had been using, returning it to its home while you went upstairs to get the kids.

Livvy’s eyes went wide when she saw you come from downstairs, “Did Santa come?” She asked you, nearly bouncing with excitement.

As you expected, the door to Eleanor’s room swung open, revealing your sleep-deprived five-year-old in her rumpled pajamas, “Yes, Santa brought gifts for everyone,” you answered, ruffling her hair before going into Finn’s room, hoping to wake him gently before the voices did a less delicate job. “Hi buddy,” you whispered, looking back to see the girls gathered at the door, completely unaware that their dad was waiting for them downstairs. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, his scrunched face not processing what you were saying, but happy to see you, nonetheless.

You picked him up from the crib and herded the girls to the stairs, letting them lead the way down while you carried the baby. Right behind them, you watched the realization dawn on their faces as soon as they caught sight of Spencer, “Daddy!” Nell shouted, leading her little sister as they ran to him.

Laughing lightly, you let a squirming Finn down, running to Spencer in the same way the girls just had. From a distance, you watched as all three of your kids entirely bypassed the gifts under the tree and on the mantle and went straight to what was more important—their father was home for Christmas.

Spencer crouched down to get Finn, and at the same time, Livvy jumped in excitement, leaving Spencer falling backward and sitting on the ground while the kids formed a less-than-graceful dog pile on the floor. You took that as your cue to join in on the festivities, kneeling on the floor next to the familial pile, uncontrollable giggles emanated from everyone involved.

You wrangled the two littles in your arms, giving each of them dozens of kisses and receiving more laughter in return as Eleanor settled down. Your eldest took her moment of alone time and laid her head on Spencer’s chest, the grin on her face overtook the rest of her face, “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered before rolling off of him, Spencer instinctively lifting his hand so she doesn’t hit her head on the leg of the coffee table.

Nellie sat up giving you a toothy grin, sticking her tongue through where she was missing a front tooth. Everyone took notice of Olivia pointing at the tree, her mouth shaped like an “o” in awe, “Can we open that one?” She asked, pointing to the largest present in the stack—which, of course, had her name on it.

“Stockings first,” Spencer said, leading to a pout from your middle child, but it was quickly wiped away when he kissed the crown of her head. Your husband got up first, taking Finn from where he was tucked into your side, and set him on his hip, “Okay, who wants their stocking?”

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

[whorefordean]

attitude adjustment || r.c

wc: 1.7k

cw: mean rafe, reader is kinda bratty, rafe calls reader a bitch, a yummy headlock (will be putting this into every fic probs), p in v sex, unprotected sex, pussy slaps, slight cockwarming

MDNI 18+

rafe sleeps soundly beside you, and that alone is enough to make you hate him. well, not actually hate him, but still. his strong arm is draped across your hip, hand splayed flat across your stomach. his rings glint in the subtle glow of the moonlight.

most people would see this as an act of endearment, however, rafe decided to hold true to his promise of punishing you.

"been such a fucking brat this week, and i'm not in the mood to deal with you," rafe had scolded you earlier in the day while squeezing your cheeks together with a firm grip. you had simply pouted, knowing that eventually he would deal with it by fucking the attitude out of you.

wishful thinking.

it had been three hours since that ordeal and two since rafe had gone to sleep. in those two hours, you'd tossed and turned, secretly hoping it would wake rafe up. apparently, you hadn't lost the attitude, even if the day was over.

as you rolled over again to face rafe, you caved. you trailed your hand up his bare chest.

"rafe?" you whispered softly. you waited a moment, watching as he remained unbothered and peaceful. damn him.

as your arousal built and your panties got wetter, you got more desperate. you slipped your leg over his hip, trying to wedge yourself as close as possible to him.

"rafe!" you pleaded for him to wake up. this time, a groan echoed throughout the room. his hand slipped up your leg, resting on your ass right below your tiny shorts.

"still got a fucking attitude," he grumbled in annoyance. you whined causing him to grip onto you tighter. finally opening his eyes, rafe glared at you.

"what do you want? huh?" rafe asked meanly. you pouted up at him as you began placing soft pecks against his bare chest, slowly making your way up his neck.

you shift until your straddling rafe’s hips, his hand still tucked possessively under your shorts. you whine when your hips shift against his as you lean down to his ear.

“need you, rafe,” you tell him quietly, kissing his cheek slowly. rafe groans.

“huh uh. been such a bitch to me lately. for no reason. not gonna reward you for your bad fucking behavior,” rafe scolds you tiredly. anger rises in you as you sit up. crossing your arms over your chest, you glare at him.

“well, maybe, i wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch if you fucked me good-“ you start to blame him. it’s a lie you don’t get to finish because rafe cuts you off.

“i dare you to finish that fucking sentence. if i wasn’t fucking you good enough, you wouldn’t be waking me up right now. wouldn’t be rubbing that wet pussy against my fucking cock, begging me to fuck you to sleep. such a fucking needy brat,” rafe hisses, slapping your ass roughly. you gape at him, half shocked half angered, because he’s right.

“you’re being mean!” you nearly yell at him. you try to grind yourself against him again but rafe holds your hips still for a minute before shoving you off of him.

“rafe!” you yelp as you tumble back to your side of the bed. rafe is quick to pounce on you, pressing your chest firmly into the mattress. his legs barricade your thighs, and you can feel his half hard cock against your ass. your hips lift, but rafe shoved them back down.

“wanna get fucked? hm? that gonna fix that fucking attitude? fine. i’ll fuck you. i'll make you feel good so that maybe next time, you’ll use your fucking words instead of bitching and whining all goddamn day,” rafe grits out as he rips your shorts down your legs. you gasp once at the cold air hitting your bare cunt, then again when rafe shoves your shirt up and yanks it over your head.

“rafe!” you yelp when rafe moves himself just enough to yank your hips up and give your dripping pussy a harsh slap.

“quit. start complaining and i’ll have to stuff that throat. you’ll take what i give you, brat,” rafe grunts, slapping your wetness again. pouting, you nod anyways.

rafe’s fingers linger near your clit, and it’s an effort to not grind yourself against his thick fingers. the bedsheets are wrinkled in your hands as you try to calm your breathing and keep your attitude in check. the temptation is there, but you refrain from begging him for something. anything.

finally, rafe sinks two of his fingers into you. a soft moan echoes out of your lips as your eyes flutter shut. before you can relish in the feeling for too long, rafe stops. he keeps his fingers buried inside you, but he doesn’t move. you wait. nothing. lifting yourself up, you turn to face rafe. your breath hitches when your movement causes his fingers to shift.

“rafe? please do something,” you beg him softly, mind reeling with need. at this point, you don’t care about keeping up the attitude. the need for his cock to be buried in you is too much to resist.

“oh, now that i’ve got my fingers in you, you’ll be nice? hm? i wanted to spend all night in this fucking pussy, but that fucking attitude…” rafe trails off, watching the way you shift your hips slightly, trying to thrust against his fingers.

“i’ll be better. promise, rafe,” you mumble when you notice the way he’s staring so intently at your exposed core. rafe thrusts his fingers a few times, watching as you match him with your own thrusts.

“you gonna work for it?” he mumbles. your hips falter but not from pleasure. you wanted rafe to do the work. wanted rafe to put you in your place. not make you do all the work even if it is your orgasm at stake here. rafe notices your hesitation and laughs darkly.

“no, i guess you wouldn’t. need me to do all the work to make sure you feel good. ain’t that right?” rafe teases. you open your mouth to respond, but he stops you. 

"if the next words out of your mouth aren't thank you, rafe, then don't say anything," rafe grunts as he pushes his fingers further into your cunt.

"thank you, rafe!" you gasp, lifting your hips slightly in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

"that's it, baby," rafe hums under his breath. your eyes snap shut when rafe's thumb starts toying with your needy clit. a whine rumbles from your throat as you tilt your head, trying to bury your sounds into the mattress. rafe grips your hair, tilting your head back until he can hear you better.

"don't fucking hide from me. you been begging for this," rafe snaps. his fingers slip out of you unexpectedly. you cry out, eyes snapping open as you look back at him. the pout on your face mixed with the pleading look in your eyes almost has him apologizing even if you deserve his meanness.

"need you, rafe," you whine, lifting your hips again. this time, rafe lets you grind your exposed pussy against his covered cock. your fingers ache, white knuckling the sheets under you. rafe's heavy hand is gripping your stuttering hips, and you can hear the breathy moans he's letting out.

"fuck, baby," rafe grunts. he stops your hips again, and you almost push him off of you, so you can finish the job yourself. you refrain though because an orgasm by yourself? wonderful. an orgasm given to you by rafe? fucking heavenly.

"rafe, please," you whine. rafe mumbles something along the lines of fucking impatient, but you ignore him, too focused on finding release.

you almost beg him again, but then rafe is slipping his hardened cock into you. you gnaw on your lip as he settles fully inside your aching walls.

this might be heaven, you think as rafe leans down to kiss your jaw. the action is a complete one eighty from his previous, but you don't object to it. you sigh in relief when he finally starts pumping his cock into you, slowly at first.

then, he's bottoming out repeatedly until your gasping for a single fucking breath. you grip at his arm beside your head, but rafe moves it out of your grasp before gripping your hand in his. your eyes lull shut as rafe continues to prove you wrong.

he had never been bad at fucking you, but you have always had an attitude problem.

rafe readjusts, lowering himself until his mouth is directly beside your ear.

"this what you wanted?" rafe asks quietly, slowing his thrusts while he deepens them. you nod, mind going blank when rafe slips his arm around you. he settles his bicep under your throat, effectively putting you in a headlock as he slips deeper into you.

"fuck, rafe. thank you," you pant. his hand leaves yours to rub at your clit. you moan out, your orgasm approaching. rafe fucks you through it, only using the slick to further your pleasure. you grip at rafe's bicep when he doesn't stop, even after you've cum.

"rafe, i can't-"

"you will," rafe interrupts. his voice is rough when he says it, and you almost beg him to keep going. he must have hear the thought because he doesn't slow down, continuing to fuck you even as you tremble under him. you try to push your hips further into the mattress, but rafe follows you. your eyes roll back in pleasure.

your second orgasm approaches faster than the last, and you can't stop the moans falling from your lips. you pry rafe's arm from around your throat. well, you attempt to pry his arm away.

his grip is firm as he finally spills his cum into your cunt. you pant when he finally slows down before fully stopping.

the two of you sit in silence, rafe still holding you tight in his grip. your cheek rests against rafe's bicep as you lay there, finally satisfied after being perpetually horny for the last week.

"thank you, rafe," you pant. rafe hums in acceptance.

"gotta learn how to fucking communicate, baby," rafe mumbles tiredly. you nod against him. rafe settles his weight against you, and it feels so good. so comforting. his cock is still buried comfortably inside you as the two of you drift off.