#fic summary submissions

[rosekasa]

im actually so in love with the ml square dance event

[kleiner-detektiv]

I just love™ doing a collab event where I'm supposed to draw something for a fanfiction, but the writer won't share or write anything until the 3rd or 4th check-in at all.

If one doesn't have the time for it, they shouldn't participate.

Or at least they should communicate!

Artists have a schedule, too!

No writing, no art! We artists, too, need some time for a decent artwork and this is not my only project! Dx

[healmydesires]

Ok so the recent post that you made on my filthy thot Logan how about you take the led of dominance one night instead of Logan and he absolutely loves it

a/n: nonnie, this is sooooo hot. I kinda had to adjust it a bit tho <3 hope you don’t mind! thank you for sending this!!! 🩷 mwah

you got my attention ꕤ (l.h)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Though Logan lets you take control and show your appreciation, in the end, you're still the one begging for him.

genre: smut (with some fluff in the end tbh) (18+ mdni)

word count: 5,8k

warnings/tags: established relationship, same universe as this fic, porn with barely no plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, lap dance, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, sub!reader, use of handcuffs, slight choking, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight orgasm denial / edging but it’s short ngl, overstimulation, face sitting, doggy, rough sex, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk. some daddy kink? breeding kink fuck sorry. I wrote this while I’m on my period lol. lots of pet names. this is high key filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. after care. this is not beta read sorry!

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

You're sitting on the bed you share with Logan, waiting for him to enter the bedroom where you're dressed in soft, pastel lilac lace lingerie. You've been intimate with Logan many times before, so you know what to expect, but this time feels a little different. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling a bit anxious. Logan usually takes control in the bedroom, but tonight, you've been wondering what it would be like if you were the one to take the lead.

If there's one thing you love doing, it's teasing Logan. You thrive on the thrill of acting out just to get a reaction from him, and you enjoy being a brat more than anything. You love being submissive, and there's nothing you'd rather be. 

But the thought of making him feel like you're in control, even if only for a few minutes, gets you all hot and bothered. You know Logan might take back control quickly, but just having that moment of power excites you.

You’ve always thought that stripping for Logan or putting on a show would be something fun to try one night. The idea of showing him how much you appreciate him by dancing to sensual music while he sits back on a chair or the couch, watching your body move, excites you. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot and turned on.

Logan’s entrance pulls you out of your thoughts as the door swings open. His eyes lock on you immediately, taking in the sight of the delicate lingerie clinging to your skin. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says with a playful smile, clearly appreciating the little fabric you're wearing. 

The lingerie you’re wearing is a lilac set with turquoise and lilac flowers embroidered onto the lace. The cups of your balconette bra are pretty transparent unless it’s for the floral details at the top to the middle of the cups, barely covering your nipples. You can see his eyes travel from your chest to your waist as he takes in the elastic band, covered with the same lace pattern, of the suspenders. His eyes linger a bit too long as he takes in the small thing that barely hides the curves of your ass. A matching thong, the elastic band sitting just below your suspenders. Logan’s eyes wander from your covered core to your shoulders as he notices the lilac see through robe with lacy details hanging off your shoulders loosely.

“Hi,” you manage to respond, your voice soft and trembling. Your cheeks heating up as his intense gaze travels up and down your body, sending a wave of warmth through you. For a brief second, you feel the familiar pull to submit, to let him take control like always. But then you remind yourself to stick to your original intentions.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Sticking to your original plan, you clear your throat and muster the courage to speak, despite the stutter. “C-could you, uh, sit in the chair?” You ask, nervously. Logan raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request.

An amused smile then tugs at the corners of his lips as he nods briefly, surprised but clearly understanding what you're trying to do. “Are you asking or telling?” Logan teases, his voice smooth, challenging, and dripping with amusement.

The playful tone sends a shiver through you, momentarily shaking your confidence. You know he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll follow through. Swallowing the nervousness building inside you, you take a slow, deep breath, determined to stick to your plan, no matter how intimidating his presence feels right now.

His response makes your heart pound in your chest. Mustering up every ounce of confidence you can find, you lock eyes with him and say, “I said go sit in the chair.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, definitely out of character for you, but there's a spark of amusement in Logan's eyes that encourages you to keep going.

You can tell he’s entertained by this rare side of you, and though it feels strange, the thrill of his reaction pushes you to stick with it. His eyebrow raises slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and for a moment, you feel a rush of control that excites you even more.

Logan never takes his eyes off you as he makes his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Settling into it, he leans back, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze remains sharp and unwavering. You watch as takes off his shirt and pulls down his jeans, exposing his hard cock pressing against his boxers. The look he gives you, despite your attempt to take control, makes it clear he still holds the power. His mischievous eyes silently tell you he could end your little fantasy whenever he chooses, effortlessly reminding you of who’s really in charge, even as he watches you with quiet anticipation.

Logan watches you walk towards the closet, opening it before you kneel down on the soft carpet in front of it as your hand tries to reach for something inside the closet. His eyes travel to your ass, observing your curves, how plump your ass looks. The way your cheeks squeeze the barely there material between them.

You can practically feel his eyes burning into you—more specifically, your ass—because you know exactly where he's staring. The heat of his gaze makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. After rummaging for a moment, you finally find what you’re looking for and stand up slowly, making sure to give Logan a lingering view of your curves. The sound of his low groan reaches your ears, sending a thrill through you. You close the closet doors and turn around, carefully hiding the vivid pink, silky handcuffs you picked up along with the lingerie just days ago.

Keeping the handcuffs tucked behind your back, you walk slowly toward him, not quite ready to reveal your little secret yet. As you reach him, you lean down to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. It ends far too quickly for his liking, and a deep grunt escapes his throat as you pull away, leaving him wanting more. Your hand trails lightly from one of his shoulders, across his chest, to the other, the soft touch of your fingers making his skin feel like it's on fire. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body almost trembling from the contact, as you circle behind him. You know he could moan from just the simple touch, and the thought of having him on edge excites you even more.

You take the handcuffs, the sound of the metal clinking behind him making Logan’s ears perk up. You hook one around his wrist, half-expecting him to protest, but when he remains silent, you continue and secure the other cuff in place. You lift your head to his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss at his pulse point, making him moan as you finish up behind him. Walking back to face him, you notice a playful smile spread across his face, a look that makes your heart race.

“What?” you ask, mirroring his amused expression, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you realise he’s not taking you seriously at all.

“Nothing, princess,” Logan shrugs, his grin widening. 

You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. “Sure.” Normally, on any other day, Logan would have you pinned beneath him or bent over his knee, spanking you until your skin is flushed and raw. But tonight, he finds it endearing to watch you take charge. So, instead of resisting, he decides to lean into it. In fact, he’s more than willing to let you explore this new dynamic and see just how far you’ll take it.

Then, you lean down and plant a soft kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a deep groan from him. “Now sit back and watch. Let me take care of you,” you whisper seductively in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. With that, you glide toward the desk, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you search for the perfect song to dance to. 

A smile spreads across your face as you finally settle on a track that feels just right. Pressing play, the smooth beats of "Sway" by Majid Jordan fill the room, setting the mood with its sultry rhythm. As the music envelops you, you can sense Logan’s eyes on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and desire. The moment feels electric, and you know it’s time to give him a show he won’t forget.

You stride toward the bed, positioning yourself right in the center of the room, directly in front of him. As the singer begins to croon the lyrics, you let the robe slide down your shoulders, pausing just at your elbows, deliberately teasing him with each movement. Swaying your hips slowly to the beat of the song, you lick your lips, feeling the heat of his gaze on you. 

With each deliberate motion, your hands glide slowly up and down your chest, accentuating your curves as you keep your eyes locked on his. You circle your hips, letting the rhythm guide you, fully aware of the effect it has on him. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the desire radiating from him, fueling your confidence as you embrace the moment.

Temptation, conversation, I hear what you sayin'~♪ 

You lose yourself to the song as you move your body closer to his, still keeping a good distance between you two. 

“Baby girl, you’re so hot…” Logan groans as his eyes admire your body, his eyes flicking back and forth from one place to the other like he doesn’t know where to look.

Playing safe but we're losing our patience~♪ 

With each sway (literally, like the title of the song) of your hips, you move to the rhythm of the song, feeling the music pulse through you as you notice his gaze tracing the curves of your body, lingering over every dip and contour.

The combination of his awestruck expression and your confident movements sends a thrill through you, urging you to keep going. You enjoy the way he watches, almost hypnotised, as you revel in the moment, fully aware that you’re in control.

Doin' things that my body is cravin'~♪ 

Your fingers wander from your hips to your backside and you squeeze your cheeks softly as you give Logan a show. The moment he sees you touching yourself like this, a low moan escapes his lips, and you can’t help but bite your own in response, revelling in the effect you have on him.

The pleasure of his gaze fuels your confidence, making you feel even more desirable. You relish the way he watches, captivated and hungry for more, as you continue to tease him, lost in the thrill of the moment.

So amazing the way that she moves~♪ She's my favorite dancer~♪ 

Seductively, you slowly turn around, then you sink yourself to the floor. Once on your knees, you crawl steadily towards him. As you’re slowly making your way to him, you’re never breaking eye contact as you smile up at him. 

As you draw closer, you rise up onto your knees, your hands gliding along his ankles and tracing up to his thighs. You gently spread his legs wider, making room for yourself between them. Logan's breath hitches in his throat at your boldness, and you can’t help but smile coyly as you bite your bottom lip, savouring his reaction. 

Your hands continue their journey, moving from his thighs to his hips and then to his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him. Slowly but sensually, you rise in front of him, each movement deliberate, exuding confidence and allure as you prepare to captivate him even further.

“You’re breathtaking…” he moans your name while your lips move to ghost over his lips. You feel and see his squirm against the hold of the handcuffs.

You smirk as you hover your hips over his lap. Using the music to your advantage, you move your body to the rhythm of the song, making sure to emphasise on your movements. Your arms around his neck as you slowly lower your lower body on his lap, sitting down, your heat against his clothed cock straining against his underwear. Pressing your needy and throbbing clit against his dick. His eyes are gazing into yours, all you can see is lust and desire. You grind against his crotch making Logan groan at your movements. Finally you lean down your lips against his, swallowing his moans in your mouth. 

“You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers breathily against your lips as you continue your little performance, swaying and grinding your hips against his. You hum with a smile before you capture his lips again. 

His mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate. He parts his lips slightly to catch his breath. Your tongue sweeps across Logan’s lips making him gasp, tongue wrapping itself against his a moment later, hot and wet and steady as you taste his mouth and kiss him deeply.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands wander all over his body. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet the more you grind against him. You whimper at the feel of him bucking his hips against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. The thong you’re wearing surely ruined by now, clinging against your wet folds.

Soon the music would fade into the background as all you can focus on is him. Logan’s leaning his head forward as much as he can, wanting so badly to grab handfuls of your ass while slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans into your mouth, biting and sucking on your bottom lip. 

You begin to rock your hips against his, dragging your core over his crotch, the friction sending pleasurable sensations coursing through you. However, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, leaving you unsure about how to proceed. Despite this uncertainty, you continue the movement, instinctively seeking relief for the ache building in your core. 

Logan notices the hesitation in your movements, his perceptive gaze catching the flicker of insecurity in your eyes. He starts to thrust his hips against yours, urging you on. “Good girl, you can do it,” he says in his low, deep voice, the words igniting a whimper from your lips as you pick up the pace, guiding your hips a bit faster in response. 

“Need you, kitten. Please, I need to feel you. Take these panties off,” he pleads, his tone dripping with desire. You shake your head, refusing to comply, which only draws a chuckle from him as he watches you squirm on top of him.

“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll choose when I want to take them off,” you retort, feeling a thrill of defiance as his eyes wander from your face to your soaked panties. The big wet spot at the front betrays just how much you want his cock filling you up, pushing deep inside and making a mess.

“Just you wait until I’m out of these,” Logan replies, maintaining that boyish smile that makes your heart race. You hardly care about his playful threat; instead, you steady yourself on his shoulders and keep grinding your clit against his clothed cock. He’s right about the panties, but you’re not about to let him dictate the moment. Reaching down, you push the fabric aside, letting your pussy lips glide against him, the contact sending shivers through your body. 

“Oh, kitten,” he moans, captivated by the sight of your arousal dripping down onto his underwear. “Look at you.” His low, sultry voice sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation of his throbbing cock against your wetness nearly overwhelming.

“Feels so fucking good,” you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure wash over you.

As the pressure builds toward your orgasm, you suddenly stand up, discarding the delicate lingerie that clings to you. As you’re undressing yourself in front of him he can’t help but growl. You glance at him cautiously, as he stares at you hungrily. You’re longing for him to taste you but feeling a hint of embarrassment about taking the initiative. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “Go ahead baby girl, let me taste you.” His encouragement sparks a rush of confidence within you, urging you to take control and fully embrace the moment.

His choice of words only heightens your arousal, making it feel as if he’s the one compelling you to act. Logan's cock is oozing with precum, and you can feel the dampness spreading on his underwear as you hook a leg over his shoulder, bringing yourself closer to him. 

You stretch a bit uncomfortably in this position, but any discomfort fades away the moment he leans forward and licks from your entrance to the top of your clit. 

A loud moan escapes you as his warm, wet tongue finally makes contact with your pussy. You sigh into the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself as you urge him deeper. His tongue glides up your folds, skillfully exploring your puffy lips, occasionally pausing to plant soft kisses on your clit. He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth.

Logan groans against you, sending delicious vibrations coursing through your body as you tug on his hair, lost in the pleasure. You find yourself grinding your hips forward, desperately seeking more contact as your arousal drips down into his beard.

“That’s it, good girl, use my fuckin’ mouth,” he moans against you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between sucking it in and releasing it, the repetitive motion making your head spin. “Taste so good.”

“Fuck, Lo—” you whine as you grind yourself against his lips.

Each flick and tug sends you spiralling, and you begin to whine, yearning for his large fingers to fill your tight little hole. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you slip deeper into that precious sub headspace, becoming acutely aware of his restrained hands. Logan picks up on your shift in mood immediately.

“Please, Lo,” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice. You need him so badly it borders on painful.

“Please, what?” he retorts, then dives his tongue into your clenching hole, making you gasp. He groans, fucking your little pussy with his tongue, his nose brushing tantalizingly over your clit. “This is what you wanted, ain’t that right?” 

“F-fuck, ah, I’m gonna c-cum,” you gasp, urgency spilling from your lips instead of a question. The relentless contact of his nose against your sensitive clit pushes you to the edge, and your pussy contracts around his tongue, releasing a wave of pleasure. You scream his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair with a mix of urgency and desperation, your ears ringing as the world around you fades into bliss, unaware of the metal cuffs breaking free.

You can feel his hands on your skin, the heat of your orgasm squirting out of you, painting his mouth beautifully as he continues to feast on your cunt. You breathe heavily as Logan moans loudly at the sweet taste of you, feeling both blissed out and utterly exposed.

You’re still coming down from your high when suddenly, you yelp in surprise as he lifts you with ease, your trembling legs instinctively wrapping around his body. In one fluid motion, Logan throws you onto the bed, and a whine escapes your lips as you feel the familiar neediness surge within you, your pussy so slick and wanting for more.

He pulls his boxers down, letting his erection finally spring free. Logan’s thick and big cock is so hard, dripping with precum and you almost whimper at the sight of it. He then makes his way up to the bed. Situating himself between your legs he smiles deviously. 

Oh—

“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten. I’ll show you who’s in control.” 

Your cheeks flare up furiously at his request, you feel your body trembling with excitement as you flip on your stomach, getting on your hands and knees, your face down on the mattress as you raise your ass in the air for him. Logan groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.

You bite your bottom lip and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. All dripping wet for me,” he whispers to you and you feel his fingers sliding up and down your slit and then opening your folds for him to see.

You wanted to tell him how he’s the only one that can do this to you, how much you love him, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, parting them as he quickly leans down and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise making you almost fall on the bed, your arms almost giving out on you.

You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as he keeps licking up and down and sucking on your clit. When you whine, his tongue swirls around your entrance.

“F-fuck, s-so sensitive. Da-daddy please, oh—”

But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whimper desperately at the loss of the feeling of his tongue, only to have him kiss your lower back and up your spine, hands sliding up and down your body.

“Please,” you whine pathetically.

You can't see it, but he's smiling down at you, shaking his head as he revels in his victory over the battle for control. “What happened, baby? Suddenly you need my help?”

You shake your head yes rapidly, not caring how desperate you look. “Please, please, I’ll be good for you, please. I’ll be your good girl.” 

“I thought you wanted to be in control,” he pokes fun at you, his hips not touching as he places soft kisses down your back. You wish he was fucking into you already. You start to whine when you feel his thumb press into your clit. He doesn’t move it at all, just applies slight pressure and lets it rest there. “But you need your daddy, don’t you? You need me so badly. Pathetic little kitty.” 

“I-I do,” you gasp, frustrated by his unmoving thumb. Your body is trembling in anticipation. “Please daddy.” 

A moment later you feel him grind his thick cock against your dripping heat, you’re aching for him to fill you up. A loud moan fills the room along with your whines, with a strong grip on your hips a second later he eases the tip inside, making you gasp as your whole body trembles. 

“Please…” You whine desperately as you feel him halt his movements, a small portion of the tip only inside you. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.

“Patience baby girl,”

You whimper as he finally slides more and more of his thickness inside of you. You squeeze your eyes tightly as he fills you up. The pressure of his cock deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Take it, princess. Take daddy’s cock.”

Then his massive cock is completely splitting you open. Logan thrusts his whole length into you, black dots cover your vision at the feeling of it. Your pussy pulses around him as you struggle to adjust to his size.

“Ah, fuck!” Tears are already dripping down your face onto the mattress. His cock is so big, long and hard and he makes your pussy and tummy feel so full of him. 

You whimper at the new angle, struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. It feels as though your pussy can never fully adjust to his size. As your walls squeeze around him, trying to adapt, Logan uses more force to push deeper, stretching you further. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, as it feels like you’re being torn open, split in half by his thickness.

“Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes and starts moving, fucking you at an impossible pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him fills the room along with both of your frantic moans. His heavy balls are hitting against your clit with every thrust. The feeling is heaven on earth. 

All you can answer with are moans as they slip off your lips. Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell Logan, breathlessly, about how good he makes you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Logan picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, you whine as you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his thick cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, the tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood daddy, p-please more…”

“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once, making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder with each movement, blending with the slick sounds of your pussy meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with the little noises of pleasure escaping your mouth. 

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Logan asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”

“Yes, daddy. Fuck, please… Can I please cum?” you ask this time, completely out of breath. 

“No, you little brat,” Logan growls, picking up the pace even more. He grabs you by your hair, jerks your head up and pulls you back towards him. “Patience.” 

The delicious thrusts of his cock don’t falter as he presses your back into his chest. He wraps a strong hand around your throat, and the other arm holds you steady by the waist. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper repeatedly, your body trembling with need.

“Oh, I know you can,” he says aggressively. “I know you fuckin’ can. And you will.” 

He grinds his hips in circles, and you nearly scream from the overwhelming sensation. You desperately try to hold back the orgasm that's building rapidly, clenching your pussy tightly around his thick cock. He lets out deep moans at the feeling of you, fully aware that he’s close to cumming but wanting to savour your pussy for just a little longer. Logan slows his pace slightly, giving both of you a brief moment to catch your breath before he picks up the rhythm again, quick and rough.

“Look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.” Logan cursed when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up, kitten, make it all nice and full,” he promises.

The head of his cock rubs against your walls deliciously, snapping you out of your small daze as you nod frantically. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up daddy!” You’re whimpering with every thrust of his cock. 

“Tell me who’s in control and I’ll let you cum,” he says slowly into your ear, grip around your throat tightening a bit and making the feeling that more intense.

“You, Lo,” you manage to get out, “Always you.”

“Cum on my cock then,” Logan gives you permission. Another few thrusts is all it takes to send you over the edge, shouting out his name as your ears ring from the pressure. You’re on cloud nine as you let your body relax and feel the brutal pounding of his cock. It drags inside of you so perfectly, hitting every sweet spot you have. Your needy cunt is clenching, throbbing, and milking his cock while you cum all over him.  Logan groans in your ear as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him for his orgasm, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised. “This pussy was made for me. So fuckin’ tight wrapped around me.” 

Your cum drips down both of your legs, coating his cock and balls, quickly forming a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, Logan talks you through it, whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He gasps as you pulse around him, desperate for him to spill his load inside you, needing to witness him fall apart.

“Ah, shit—” he rasps, thrusting deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your cervix with delicious force. “Are you going to take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re a messy little thing, hm?”

You shiver at his words, your mouth dropping open in awe as you close your eyes, completely lost in the sensation, nodding eagerly. “Please, please.”

Moments later, you feel him unravel against you, and soon his cum starts to shoot deep inside you. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good baby girl.”

As his thrusts come to a complete stop, he pulls out of you, and you let your body fall limp against the mattress, feeling utterly drained. Soon Logan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly spinning you around to pull you against his chest. He kisses you softly, and you moan at the taste of yourself still on his lips. As he pulls away, he gazes down at you with soft eyes and a charming smile, the warmth of the moment enveloping you both.

“Sorry for ruining your little plan,” Logan teases gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, smiling up at him. “I figured I’d give it a try… but I feel like I’m not that great at it.”

He shakes his head, leaning closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweet girl. That was so fuckin' hot. In fact, I might want you to try it again.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes brightening at his praise.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Maybe next time, I can teach you a thing or two about taking control.”

“Really?” You smile happily, your fingers running through his messy dark hair. 

“Mhm,” he hums, his heart swelling at your excitement.

Biting your lip bashfully, you shrug, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I much prefer having you in control, though.”

“That so?” Logan smirks mischievously, his hands beginning to wander all over your body, reigniting the familiar heat between you.

“Yes, you’re so hot when you’re dominant,” you giggle, leaning up to cover Logan’s face with playful kisses.

“Oh, just when I’m dominant?” he teases, smirking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Logan, you know what I mean!” you pout, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face. “You’re always hot!”

Logan chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through you as he gently cups your cheeks with both hands, trying to capture your lips. Once he does, he presses a series of quick, light pecks against your mouth, grinning widely. You giggle against him, the sound filling the space between you both as he keeps chasing your lips, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.

“I love you so much, baby. You mean everything to me,” Logan murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of emotion. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer as his warmth surrounds you. 

With a gentle roll, Logan shifts your bodies, laying you down so your back sinks into the softness of the blankets and pillows. His lips never leave yours as you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, his hands still cradling your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across the skin under your eyes. 

“You’re everything to me too, Lo,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of affection, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love you.”

You’re both basking in each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy between you settling into something warm and peaceful. The earlier rush of passion has given way to a serene calmness, where even the soft rhythm of your breaths seems to sync together. Logan’s fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, and you feel completely at ease, wrapped in his embrace. 

Then, just as you’re lulled into this tranquil moment, you notice a familiar gleam of mischief in Logan’s eyes. His hands slowly slide down to your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin in a way that sends a subtle thrill through you. He caresses you slowly, and the soft strokes make your body stir. 

With a playful grin, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Another round?” His voice is teasing but full of intent, a promise of what’s to come. You feel the shift in his energy, playful yet laced with the kind of desire that tells you he’s far from finished with you tonight. 

“Logan!” you giggle, giving him a playful push, but he only grins wider. In a swift motion, he pulls you close again, silencing your laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. Your playful giggles soon turn into soft, breathy moans as his hands roam your body, and yours do the same, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles.

The night unfolds in a tangle of kisses and wandering hands, the air between you charged with love and desire. Every touch, every kiss, is a reminder of the bond you share, and the passion between you feels endless. The world fades away, and all that remains is Logan. His touch, his gaze, and the warmth of his presence pull you in, leaving you completely lost in him.

thank you for reading <3 mwah

[xosannie]

Our Dirty Little Secret

Part 2 to my fic Dirty Little Secret, check out part 1 is you haven’t already. Thank you for reading <3

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: sex worker!Mingi x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 6.9k

☆Warnings: Mingi is a bit submissive in this, unprotected sex, recording while having sex, praise, sending nudes, hand job, fwb, mention of porn (lmk if I missed anything)

☆Summary: After finding out about your best friend Mingi’s secret porn account, you grew to accept his decision in his line of work. You actually start to feel very curious about it yourself, and Mingi is more than happy to fulfill your curiosity.

☆a/n: This took so long and I don’t really like it that much but I hope you do lol :,)

—————————————————————————

You throw your head back laughing, holding your stomach after your friend said something to make you laugh. You were sitting in a small cafe, matcha in hand, while you chatted with your friend from work. 

“I’m serious, it fell and spilled all over me,” he says, taking a sip of his latte.

“San, you’re such a clutz. How many times has that happened now?”

“Three,” he says quietly, and you laugh harder. 

”Is Mingi coming or what?” San says, rolling his eyes at you.

"Yes, I’m sure he is.”

You hear a ping come from your phone; oh, that must be Mingi. You pick it up and open the message without a second thought, not realizing it was an image he sent.

Loser (Mingi): Should I post this? :))

(attached image)

You choke on your drink, staring at the photo of Mingi holding his hard dick in his hand. San looked at you confused, and you try to compose yourself, trying not to act like a fool in front of your coworker.

“What?” He asks.

“Um… he’s uh stuck in traffic.”

"Bro, you scared me; you’re acting like you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

You felt your ears heat up. Damn Mingi, he did this on purpose. Ever since that night at his house, he started to send you nude videos and pictures of himself; you loved it at first. But then he started doing it to tease you, sending stuff when you were at work or in times when he knew you couldn’t be alone to touch yourself. He’s a menace, that damn Mingi.

You set your drink down to text Mingi back. 

You: WHAT THE HECK?!? 

Loser (Mingi): what? 

You: YOU KNOW IM WITH SAN RIGHT NOW, YOU CANT JUST RANDOMLY SEND ME YOUR DICK LIKE THAT!!

Loser (Mingi): Aww, you don’t like my dick anymore? :(

You internally palm your forehead. In this moment, you thank whatever god there is that you can pull off a pretty good poker face. You glance at San before looking back at your phone, thumbs dancing against the keyboard as you typed back at Mingi.

You: Shut up, where are you? Me and San are waiting.

Loser (Mingi): I’m coming. I’m coming. No need to get your panties in a twist.

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down to look back at San, who was waiting patiently to have your attention back on him.

“He’s on his way,” you huff.

“Great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

San smiles softly, showing off his dimples, and he takes another sip of his latte. You hear another ding from your phone, and you glance down at the screen in your lap.

Loser (Mingi): So you don’t like the photo? </3

You: Of course I like it. Now hurry up and get over here.

Mingi smiles down at the phone after reading your response. He turns off the car, stepping out and walking toward the door of the cafe. He can see you and San through the window; he was there the whole time watching. He just wanted to see your reaction to his teasing, that little prick. 

————————————————————————

You, San, and Mingi all caught up with each other, updating one another about your lives, telling stories, and cracking jokes. It was now getting darker, the sun started to set, and the cafe became emptier. You check the time on your phone before speaking.

"Oh, they’re going to close soon. We should probably head out.” 

San checks the time as well, looking down at his watch and letting out a sigh. He looked up, glancing at you and Mingi, who sat together in front of him. 

“Yeah, I should probably head home now. I have to study for my upcoming exam.” 

You all agree to end the night here, getting up out of your seats and picking up your trash. Mingi takes your empty cup and drapes your jacket over his shoulder. 

“That’s alright, man. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks Mingi.”

Mingi and San shake hands, patting each other back. You pull San in for a hug, and Mingi tries to ignore the small pang of jealousy he felt when he noticed San’s arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Bye, Sannie; see you next time.”

“Oh, did you need a ride back home?”

You pull away from the hug, and Mingi steps in, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I can take her.” 

San glances at the two of you, smiling softly. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but he shrugged it off and waved goodbye.

“Alright, well, I’ll get going. Good night.”

You and Mingi both wish him a good night and watch him walk off. Once San was out of sight, you pulled yourself from Mingi’s hold. You look up at him with an annoyed face, causing Mingi to put his hands up in defense.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I told you to stop sending those things to me when I’m out in public.”

You playfully smack his chest, making Mingi chuckle quietly. You turn on your heels, walking out the cafe and toward Mingi’s car in the parking lot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He follows behind you, catching up fairly easily due to his long legs. He beats you to the passenger seat, opening the car door for you. You huff, climbing in and sitting back with your arms crossed. Mingi couldn’t help the sly smirk plastered on his face as he walks around the car and climbs in the driver seat.

“Wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Or what?”

Mingi leans closer, glancing at your lips, then back at your eyes. He looked so pretty under the dim lighting. You fight every urge to smash your lips against his, but you didn’t give him that satisfactory. 

Instead, you turned your head, looking out the window. Mingi frowned a bit when you didn’t give him what he wanted. He turned the car on, faint music playing quietly in the background.

“Don’t give me that treatment. You loved the photo; I know you did.”

He drove out of the parking lot, and you watched the darkened trees pass by. You scoffed at his words, not bothering to look back at his face. Obviously you liked the photo; you couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time you were out. You caught yourself staring at Mingi a little longer than you should have, admiring his pretty lips and hands (and all the things they can do to you). 

Your silence only makes Mingi smirk wider, already knowing what’s on your mind. He glanced at you for a second, then back on the road, one of his hands reached down to grip your thigh.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, baby. I noticed how you were staring at me back at the cafe.”

Your body tensed, and the feeling of his large hand grabbing the flesh of your thigh made you feel a stir at the pit of your stomach. Of all days, why did you decide today was the day to wear a dress? He gripped your thigh, massaging it in his hand, running his fingers higher up under your dress.

“You look so pretty in this dress. It took every ounce in me not to rip it off and pound you in front of San.”

Images of Mingi’s words flashed in your head, causing your breath to grow more shallow. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together; that didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He let out a low chuckle, squeezing your thigh harder. God, you hated how easily he can rile you up. He knew exactly what he was doing; his ego was seriously too big for his own good. 

You take his hand and guide it back to the steering wheel. Mingi cocked his brow up, feeling a sense of amusement when you play hard to get.

“Two hands on the wheel, Mingi.” You teased.

“Fine, but later tonight I’ll have two hands on you.”

After a few minutes of shooting each other glances and bantering with a bit of flirting, you finally arrive at your place. You reach for your belongings, but Mingi already grabbed them for you, your jacket and purse in his hand as he steps out of the car. You rolled your eyes at him and watched as he ran around the car to open the door for you. 

“I’m perfectly capable of opening the door,” you snickered.

“Hey, let me be the gentleman I am.” 

“You just want pussy.” 

Mingi fights back a little; he wasn’t expecting you to say something so straightforward. He closed the door, feeling heat creep up on his cheeks. Thank God it was dark out so you couldn’t see him blush.

“That’s not...” he says quietly. 

He was brought back to his senses when you walked past him. There was a sly smirk on your face; shy Mingi was always so cute; you just don’t get to see it often. Mingi catches up to you when you stop at the front door, keys jingling as you turn the lock. 

You both step in, placing your belongings down and slipping off your shoes. Almost immediately, you felt Mingi’s hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small yelp, smiling up at Mingi, who towered over your figure.

“Hey, let me breathe first. I just got home,” you chuckle.

“Can’t wait.”

He leans down to place kisses on your neck. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness, and you push him away slightly. He shoots you a small pout when you reject him, and you coo internally at his expression, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

“Down boy,” you joke. 

Mingi reluctantly pulls his arms off you with a huff. He walks over to the couch and plops down on it, sulking like a puppy who just got scolded. You laugh at his behavior, walking to him and cupping his jaw.

“I’m going to go shower, then you can have all my attention.”

His head perks up at your words, and a smirk widens on his face. 

“Can I join?” 

“No Mingi. Just be good and wait okay.”

His body slumps at your words. A strange feeling crashed over him when you told him to be good; he had no choice but to give in. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long then.” 

“I’ll be quick; don’t worry.”

You ruffle his hair before walking away, swaying your hips more than usual. Mingi watched you intently, admiring your figure. Once you were out of sight, he let out a sigh, falling back on the couch. 

“Damn tease,” he whispered to himself. 

He picked up his phone in an attempt to find some kind of entertainment. He opened the Twitter app and was immediately met with porn videos. He forgot to switch back to his regular account again; he really needed to get out of that habit. He looked through his DM's  and noticed an unopened message from the buyer of the video you helped Mingi film. He smiled at the message after reading it.

“This was hotttt😍 correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like someone helped you film this?? If that’s the case, I think you should film more with them; I’m sure others would love to see it (I know I will).💋”

Film more with them? Mingi likes the sound of that. He’s always fantasized about recording you while you both fucked, maybe even posting it if you allowed it. But he was always too nervous to ask, afraid that might scare you away.

After a few minutes, you finally get out of the shower. When you walked back in the living room now wearing sleep shorts and a black spaghetti strap top, Mingi (unashamedly) checked you out. He couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face when he saw you. 

“I’m back, did you miss me?”

“Yes, very much,” he says without taking his eyes off your hips. 

You walk past Mingi, sitting on the couch next to him while his eyes stayed glued to you the whole time. You kick your feet up on the couch, getting comfortable and trying to ignore Mingi’s hard gaze. You reach forward to grab the remote and turn the TV on. 

“You know you never answered my question from earlier,” Mingi said.

“What question?”

“If I should post the picture or not.”

You think back at the nude. Mingi sent you when you were out with San. You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Oh my bad for not answering when you sent me a dick picture in public.” 

Mingi smiled, feeling pleased with himself. He leans back, hands resting behind his head.

“You’re not giving me feedback.”

You roll your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. God, you wanted to shove him down on the couch and sit on his face; that way he wouldn’t be able to give you that smug look. 

"Yes, post it. it’s really hot.” 

You turn back to the TV, scrolling through to pick something to watch. Mingi’s smirk widens; he looks down at you, admiring your pretty thighs. 

“Hot? Did it turn you on?”

He reached down, grazing the soft, supple skin. You allowed Mingi to touch you, still scrolling the TV and failing to find something to watch. You give up, setting the remote down and turning to Mingi. 

“What are you going to do if I say yes?”

He leans in closer, hiding his face in your neck as he takes in your scent. He always loved the smell of your body wash; it drove him crazy. He grazed his teeth against your earlobe, sucking it gently. 

“Whatever you want me to do,” he whispers. 

You giggle softly, pulling his face up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Ever since you and Mingi slept together that one night, you both have been thirsty for each other every second of the day. Don’t get it twisted, you were the same friends you were before… just friends that flirt...and  kiss... and fuck. (That’s normal though, right? Haha…)

You told yourself you wouldn’t think much of it and just go with the flow. You and Mingi both kind of agreed to do that. Neither of you wanted to possibly make each other uncomfortable, so you guys just let things happen without looking into it too deeply.

Mingi hummed in the kiss, moving his hand up to grip your waist. He pulls you closer, the kiss deepening and becoming more passionate. You push him away when you feel Mingi try to pull you on his lap, leaving him wanting more. His eyes flutter open, letting out a small sigh. 

“So how is your porn stuff going?”

You stay close to Mingi, resting your head on your hand while studying his features. Mingi leans back on the couch, though his hands never leave your body. He pushed his hair back, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart before speaking. 

“It’s pretty good. Honestly, I’ve been getting more recognition recently.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great.”

You gently nudge Mingi’s shoulder, proud to hear the good news. 

“I’m not surprised; your videos are so hot, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

Mingi smirked at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and playing with a lock of your hair. 

“Yeah? Which video have you been touching yourself too?”

You shoot him a playful glare, making Mingi laugh to himself.

“Don’t make me take back my compliment.” 

“I’m just messing with you. I hope you know your opinion is very valid to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You fiddle with the necklace resting around Mingi’s neck before replying.

“I really like the video of you humping the pillow.”

Mingi bites his lip; the thought of you touching yourself to his videos makes his stomach churn. He honestly fantasizes about it a lot; he always comes the fastest when thinking about it. 

“Really? Well, I’ll make sure to film more of those.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning closer and resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder. He runs his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands behind your ear. 

“Do other people hit you up asking to “collaborate” or whatever? I don’t know what you call it.” 

Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

“I mean, yeah, there are a few mutuals of mine who DM me. But I don’t like the thought of fucking just anyone. I don’t care if other people do it because it is for work, but I don’t know... I prefer to do it with people I care about. Like you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. A strange wave of relief courses through your body at his response. You decide to brush off the feeling, looking up at Mingi and poking his chest.

"Awww, you care about me.” 

“Of course I do you idiot.”

Mingi smiles, resting his cheek on top of your head. You hum, feeling a sense of warmth at his actions and mindlessly drawing shapes on his chest. Mingi suddenly remembered something he wanted to show you, then pulls away a bit as he speaks up.

“Oh, look at this message I got.” 

He pulls out his phone, showing you the message from the buyer. You smile, raising your brows while reading it. 

“Film more with me? What an interesting request.” 

"Yeah, right,” he chuckled nervously.

“I’m glad they liked it. I’ve watched the video myself, and it was so hot. Even though I’m the one in it, it’s hot knowing that you’re holding the camera.” 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket after you handed it to him. You weren’t going to lie; you have previously thought about what it would be like to be in one of Mingi’s videos. Of course you never mentioned it to him; you were just nervous. But the more you scrolled through Mingi’s and other people’s accounts, your curiosity grew stronger. Maybe this was a sign?

Mingi noticed the way you started to get lost in thought. He leaned down, curiously trying to meet your gaze. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You snapped your attention back at Mingi. You stared into his brown eyes; in this moment, you decided to speak up. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

“Just thinking… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Mingi raised his brows, his eyes widening a bit. He shifted in his seat, moving his body to fully face yours.

“Wait really? Like, you want to film with me?” 

Mingi felt his heart racing in his chest, and you smiled at how excited he looked. If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now. You nod your head, placing your hand on top of Mingi’s.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. It sounds… fun.” 

Mingi breaks into a huge smile, pulling you in for a hug. You laugh at his reaction; he’s acting as if he won a prize. But to Mingi, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Okay! When? Where? What do you want to do?”

“Mingi, calm.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. He shut his mouth in a closed lip smile, showing off his cute dimples. You couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to poke his cheek.

“We can do it whenever. Today even, if you don’t mind.”

"Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

You felt a strange wave of relief wash over your body. You didn’t notice how anxious you were feeling till you heard Mingi’s encouragement. He stands up off the couch, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked at him with a questioning expression, warily taking his hand in yours.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled you up off the couch, leading you through the house.

“We’re going to your room.”

He smiles wide, prancing through the hall and into your bedroom. You shake your head at him, finding his excitement endearing. He pushed the door open, leading you in and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at you, eyes sparking with eagerness. You step in between his legs, running your hand through his hair. You feel Mingi wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Someone is eager,” you tease.

“You can’t blame me; do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you for content?”

You cock your head to the side, cupping his jaw and holding his face still. The act was weirdly dominant, Mingi likey. You raise a brow to give him a questioning glance. 

“Just for content?” 

Mingi’s breath hitched at your change of tone, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to find words. 

“Well, of course, not just for content. What I meant was... you know what I mean,” he whined. 

You giggle, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I’m just messing with you, Mingi.”

He felt his heart swell at your soft touch. He couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes; you just looked so pretty. He wanted you to keep kissing him; he needed to taste more of your lips. 

“Alright, I think you’ve been waiting long enough. Let’s get started.” You chimed.

Mingi nods eagerly, smirking wide.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you down, causing you to let out a surprise squeal, then giggle as you settle yourself on his lap. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smashes his lips on yours. You both kiss each other hungrily, his hands on your waist as you grip at his hair.

You hear him groan in the kiss when you pull at the strands; god, you loved that sound. You couldn’t help yourself when you did it again, only harder this time. Mingi let out a moan, the sound shooting straight to your core. 

You pulled his shirt, tugging the hem as a silent way of saying you wanted it off. Mingi chuckled at your actions, knowing exactly what you wanted. He pulled away for a second so he could pull his shirt off in one swift motion.

With no time to waste, he was back on you, pressing hot kisses down your neck. You let out a sigh, basking in the feeling of his lips, and guided your hands down his bare chest. He continued to lick and suck at your skin, making you let out small moans. 

“Baby, let’s lay down on the bed,” you breathed out.

Mingi nodded, reluctantly pulling himself off you and giving you one last kiss on the lips. Mingi moved up on the bed, and you followed closely behind. Crawling back on top of his body, smiling prettily down at him. His hands instinctively rest on your waist when you straddle him.

“Can I have your phone?”

“Yeah, yes,” he breathed out. 

Mingi pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. You grabbed it, leaning down to kiss his lips. He entangled his hand in your hair, moaning softly when you trailed kisses down his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes when you moved further down. You pressed warm kisses down his bare chest to his stomach, slowly licking back up. 

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he moaned breathlessly. 

You chuckled, sitting up and pulling at the buckle of his pants. 

“You’ll have me, baby, don’t worry.” 

Mingi’s hands fumbled to help you unbuckle his pants. He pulls them down for you and throws them on the floor. You turn on his phone, opening the camera app. 

“Mmm, look at you,” you say.

Mingi lay there, breath-grown, labored, and dick hard in his boxers. You can see a slight wet patch on the front. Holy fuck, you were going to devour this man.

Mingi’s dick twitched in his boxer briefs when he saw you point the camera at him. He heard the ding on the phone, your eyes fixated on Mingi’s pretty body through the screen. You reached down, your finger lightly grazing the bulge in his underwear. Mingi’s hips buck up slightly, and shiver runs down his spine.

“Look at you, such a pretty boy.”

Your voice took a tone Mingi never really heard before. It was soft yet dark; he wanted to hear more. He chuckles softly at your words, feeling a wave of desire crash over him at your praise. You run your hand up his body, making sure everything was in frame. 

“I’m pretty?” Mingi asks in a dark, seductive tone. 

You nod, humming in agreement. You slowly trace your finger down his torso, almost as though you were teasing both Mingi and the viewer. You hook your finger on the waistband of his boxers, tugging it at an agonizingly slow pace. 

Mingi huffed at your teasing hands. He knew you were putting on a show for the video, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit impatient. You felt him squirm slightly and chuckled at his behavior.

“Needy aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mingi says softly, with a hint of a whine. 

The sound shot straight to your core, turning the ache in your pants into a throb. God, you needed to hear Mingi whine; you needed to hear him beg. Finally, you pulled the underwear all the way down; his hard length springs up. You giggle softly, cooing at the sight. 

You don’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t help but want to tease Mingi. Although Mingi didn’t seem to mind much. His dick twitch at your condescending tone, making his face flush in embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grasp his length, letting a wad of spit fall down onto the tip. Slowly, you envelope his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Mingi moans softly, watching the way you held the phone close to your face as you recorded yourself jerking him off. The whole scene was so hot, Mingi couldn’t help but feel turned on by the thought of you recording him in such a vulnerable state.

The wet noises of your hand moving up and down on his dick filled the room. You moved your hand faster, watching Mingi’s expression this time. He was already looking at you, and you smiled at him. He whimpered when you locked eyes, his brows furrowing as a small pout threatened to grow on his lips. 

He reached down to grip your thigh, needing to feel you in any way he could. Subconsciously, Mingi started to slowly buck his hand up into your fist. You hum at the sight, biting your lip.

“You’re such a needy boy. You want more?”

“Yes,” Mingi whimpered.

“Yes what?” 

Mingi threw his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes closed as he felt his face grow hot. He knew what you were asking from him, but he was too shy to say it. You gripped his length tighter, stopping the movement of your hand.

Mingi whimpers loudly at the pain, body jerking and dick twitching with pleasure. 

“Yes, what?” You asked again, this time in a darker tone.

“Yes please. Please, I need more,” he whined, covering his face in embarrassment. 

You smiled wide at him, loosening the grip on his cock and jerking him faster. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Mingi moans at your praise, hips bucking up faster than before and dick twitching excitedly. You watched, feeling slightly surprised by his reaction.

“Oh? Does the big boy like to get praised?”

“Yesss,” Mingi whines. 

He gripped your thigh harder, continuing to fuck up into your hand. It was all so embarrassing yet so hot to him. Having you toy with him while you recorded. He felt like he was under your control, and fuck he loved it more than he ever thought he would. 

“Thats right, baby, fuck my hand.”

You completely still the movement of your fist, encouraging Mingi to continue to thrust into your hand. He does just that, bouncing up and down on the bed as he fucked your fist. He continued to let out whimpers and whines, feeling both ashamed and aroused by how pathetic he looked. 

You hummed in delight, making sure you got the best angle of Mingi fucking himself. You moaned softly when you saw a drip of pre-cum ooze out the tip. You pulled your hand off, making Mingi whine desperately, his hips still fucking the air looking for friction. 

You giggle softly, watching the way his dick bounced pathetically. Your fingers find their way on his slit, pulling away and watching a string of pre-cum connect to your finger and his tip.

“So wet, baby.”

You move the camera closer to his length, showing off the pretty cum dripping down his cock.

“It’s all for you,” he says quietly. 

That was your breaking point. You needed Mingi; you couldn’t wait any longer. Your pussy throbbed so much, and you felt your slick stick to the fabric of your shorts. You stopped the recording, setting the phone on the mattress and leaning down to kiss Mingi. He pushed away slightly, looking at you confused.

“Why’d you stop recording?” He breathed out.

“I can’t take it. I need to fuck you, Mingi.”

Mingi whimpered, pulling you down by the nape of your neck to smash your lips together. Your tongues danced against each other, yours exploring his mouth as he lay limp and let you use him however you like.

“Oh god, yes, please do,” he whined. 

You chuckled, pulling away to rip your shirt off. Your beautiful breast was on display for Mingi; he was mesmerized by the sight. He reached up and squeezed them; you smiled at the way his large palms enveloped your breast. 

“You’re so sexy.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words. Mingi smiled up at you, finding your giggling cute. His hands roam down your body, sliding over your waist to your hips. You felt his large hands grip your ass through your shorts, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Take them off for me, Mingi.” 

Mingi smirks wide, wordlessly pulling your shorts off and down your legs. He moans softly at the sight of you; you had no underwear on, which left you completely naked sitting on top of Mingi.

"God, I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait any longer.”

You completely sit down on him, your warm, wet pussy pressed against the underside of his cock. Mingi furrows his brows and grips your hips tightly. You began to rock your hips back and forth, your wetness leaving a glistening trail on Mingi, and he moans softly.

"Why are you teasing me?” he whine. 

You giggle, enjoying the feeling of your swollen clit rubbing against the head of his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at him mischievously; your hands rested on his pecks, and you grabbed the flesh beneath your palms. 

“You just look so cute... whining for me,” you say breathlessly. 

Mingi pushes his head back against the pillow; he was so turned on he needed to feel you already. You glance at Mingi’s phone laying on the bed beside him. He followed your gaze and smirked; he knew exactly what you wanted. He picked it up, opened the camera app, and pressed record. 

You lifted your hips a bit, taking his hard length and aligning it with your sopping hole. Mingi watched through the phone, moaning loudly when you sunk down on his cock. Your hands rested on his stomach, clawing at the skin beneath. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans. 

You moan breathlessly, moving your hips up and down slowly. You already felt your legs start to tremble at the feeling of Mingi filling you up. 

“You fill me up perfectly, baby. Show them how pretty your dick looks sliding inside me.”

Mingi groans at your words, moving the camera closer to you pussy sucking up Mingi’s dick effortlessly. You kept a slow, steady pace; you were so wet you could hear the squelching noises coming from your pussy. Mingi bites his lip, pulling the camera away to show off your pretty body while grabbing your hip with his free hand. 

“Baby,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

Mingi moans at your words, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He planted his feet flat on the bed and thrust up into you at a fast pace. You let out a yelp as intense pleasure coursed through your entire body. Skin slapping against skin as Mingi bucked up into your pussy, he was mesmerized by the way your thighs jiggled when coming contact to his pelvis. 

He held the phone in his hand tighter, groaning loudly as he fucked into you. You couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your lips; you were in pure ecstasy. And based on the way Mingi’s eyes were glued to your face, brows furrowing, and mouth agape, you could tell he felt the same way. 

“Fuck…so good. Your pussy is so good.”

You moan at his praise, looking down at the phone that was pointed toward you. You felt so vulnerable, and the thought that other people will be watching this video, jacking off to Mingi fucking you, drove you crazy. 

Mingi’s hips stopped when the burn in his abdomen became too much to bear and he panted heavily trying to catch his breath. You decided to give Mingi some time to rest and reached behind you. You planted your hands on Mingi’s thighs and lifted your knees up till your feet rested on the mattress.

“You did so good. I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby.”

Mingi whined when he watched you change positions and nodded eagerly. 

“Okay.” 

With the new position you put yourself in, your pussy was on full display for Mingi and the camera. You rocked your hips up and down, your tits bouncing with your movements. Mingi moans louder, watching intently at the way his dick disappeared in your hole. He was trying so hard not to drop the phone in his hand, wanting to capture this moment forever. 

With the new view, Mingi found himself getting closer to his release. Watching you bounce on his cock was just too intoxicating.

“I’m close, baby.”

“Just a little longer, okay? I’m almost there.”

Mingi’s hand gripped tightly to your thigh, sliding up till his thumb pressed against your clit. You whined at the feeling, legs trembling when he rubbed circles on the sensitive nub.

“Yes yes. Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Cum on my cock, please. I need it.”

Your nails dug into Mingi’s thighs, legs almost giving out when you came on his dick. You clenched so hard around him as your hips stuttered. Mingi’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried with all his might not to cum inside. Now that's a good boy.

You pulled off him, his dick slipping out and hot streams of cum shot out to cover his stomach. You watched with a sly smirk, reaching down to jerk him off. 

“Fuck!”

Mingi’s body trembled from his intense orgasm, some even landing on his chest and neck. You giggle, and when you notice him coming down from his high, you slow the pace of your hand, not wanting to overstimulate him. You grab the phone from him (surprised he didn’t drop it at this point) and point the camera closer to his cum-covered body.

"Mmm, you see that. What a messy boy.” 

You both pant heavily. Mingi chuckled breathlessly at your words, looking down at his body. You stopped the recording, setting the phone down on the bed. You both smiled at each other, Mingi reaching up to cup your face. 

“Can’t wait to watch that later,” you smirk. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, laughing breathlessly. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your nose. You rested your elbows on either side of his head while staring into his pretty brown eyes.

“That was so fucking hot. I didn’t know I was the submissive type, but damn, we need to explore that more.” 

You laugh heartily, kissing Mingi’s cheek before speaking. 

"Yes, we do. I swear I almost started running laps whenever you begged for me.” 

“I folded when you called me a good boy.” 

You and Mingi couldn’t help the funny comments. Maybe it was weird that you were cracking jokes after getting dicked down by your best friend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull away, sighing and looking down at the cum that smeared on your body. 

“Now I have to take another shower.”

Mingi laughs at your words, running his hands up and down your sides. He looks up at you with pleading eyes before asking in a hopeful tone.

“Can I join you this time?” 

You decide to throw him a bone, smiling down at him and nodding.

“Yes Mingi. Come on.”

Mingi exclaimed in excitement, picking you up effortlessly and taking you to the bathroom. You squeal when he throws you over his shoulder, and you smack the small of his back.

“Hey, warning next time you decide to manhandle me.”

“No time, must take you to the shower.”

“How do you still have this much energy after what we did?”

————————————————————————

“Ugh, dammit.” 

You lean back in your chair when you see the red letter pop up on your computer screen. 

‘You died’

“Why is this level so hard?” 

Your mumble to yourself. You hear your phone notification go off and light up next to your keyboard. You pick it up and smile to see a message from Mingi. 

Princess Mingi: HELLO!? LOOK AT HOW MANY LIKES OUR VIDEO HAS 

(attached image)

Your eyes bulge out of your head after seeing the screenshot Mingi sent you. 

You: 72k?!? WHAT??

Princess Mingi: This is literally my most liked video. People love you, they think you're hot and want to know if you have an account. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the thought of people wanting to see more of you. Maybe you should dabble into this kind of work. You were pulled out of your thoughts when another ping rang from your phone. 

Princess Mingi: You should say fuck it and join the sex work community. I think you will do very well.

Princess Mingi: I’ll be your first subscriber ;)

You: I’ll block you before you can find my account 

Princess Mingi: Hey :( you wouldn’t do that to your good boy, would you? :(((

You: Yes.

You giggle to yourself after teasing Mingi. It was just so fun. He sent another message, and your giggles immediately die down when you see the image.

Princess Mingi: (attached image)

What about now? :)

You: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SENDING ME YOUR DICK

Princess Mingi: YOU SAID NOT TO DO IT WHEN YOURE IN PUBLIC. I KNOW YOURE NOT 

You: WELL NOW IM HORNY AND ALL ALONE

Mingi doesn’t reply back and you see the little ‘read’ text under your message. You furrow your brow in confusion, that bitch, leaving you on read. You set you phone down and turn your attention back to your game on the screen.

After a few minutes, Mingi never replied back. Thats weird. You decide to text him again, he never leaves you on read. 

You: Hey, are you alive?

You were surprised when you saw the three dots appear pretty quickly. 

Princess Mingi: I’m here. Open your door :)

You stare blankly at the phone screen, sitting there dumbfounded. You’re brought back to reality when you hear a honk outside your house. You peak through your window and see Mingi walking out the car and up to your front door. That little shit. 

You: No, stay outside and freeze. 

Princess Mingi: Please let me in :(

You: Why should I? 

Princess Mingi: So I can fuck you good again :) 

You dropped your phone and ran to the front door. Well, it was too cold for him to stay out there all alone. 

————————————————————————

You bite your lip while holding your phone in your hand. 

"Ugh, fuck it.” 

You posted your first nude photo; it was a simple mirror picture of you were in your underwear sitting on your bed topless. You throw your phone on the mattress, feeling nervous yet excited at the same time. You finally did it, you made your own Twitter account. 

After looking at the video you and Mingi recorded for his account, you decided to give in and give the people what they wanted. After a few minutes of pacing around, you pick up your phone to check if anyone has liked your photo yet. You already started getting some likes and a few comments.

You get a notification and press on it immediately. 

‘Sir Min started following you’

You smile to yourself when you read the notification. Of course, Mingi was the first to follow you. You had already told him you were doing it, but you didn’t take into account that he was waiting for you to make your first post this whole time. You get a DM from Mingi, smirking to yourself when reading it.

Sir Min: You look hot, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you more “for content” ;)

~

Tags: @chicksmoothie @wisejudgedragonhairdo @autieofthevalley @breadpuddingboys @pancake-freckle @nanicjj @yunhofingers @cherr-heekisses

[sundrop-writes]

Need

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Daryl comes back from a run acting strangely needy, and you find out that Zach made him jealous. (You may have to thank Zach later.)

Or - Daryl fucks your brains out to prove to himself that you're his.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during early Season 4/The Prison Era.

Word Count: 3,000

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is mainly a smut fic - the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader and Daryl have a sexual relationship that skews slightly romantic; the reader's age is not at all specified; Daryl being very needy (hence the title); Daryl is more dominant the reader is more submissive, but there is no laid out rigid roles; Daryl is jealous and trying to 'claim' the reader after someone else makes sexual comments about her (when she is not around to hear those comments); mentions of Daryl drinking alcohol and smoking (does not take place during the fic, just a background element); some manhandling - from Daryl towards the reader (nothing unrealistic or beyond Daryl's known strength); oral sex - reader receiving (Daryl certified pussy eater); references to hunting/killing animals for food (come on, this is a Daryl fic); Daryl is slightly mean in this (he tells the reader to shut up) - but he's not vengeful or mean on purpose, he's just in a mood; spit kink - Daryl spits on the reader's pussy; pussy spanking (this was such a last minute addition and I am so glad I did); Daryl calls the reader 'woman'; overstimulation - towards reader; mention of the reader crying/having tears in her eyes (due to overstimulation); Daryl being very possessive due to his jealousy; hair-pulling - Daryl receiving; very slight anal play (Daryl tongues the reader's asshole - juust a bit); penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom and there are no mentions of other forms of birth control (don't be like them); there is no mention of Daryl cumming inside the reader, though because the fic ends before we get to his orgasm (sorry, Daryl); slight cockwarming; the sex gets rough toward the end; I believe that's it for this fic?

A/N: No, this was not the winner of the poll. But right now I am in a mindset for TWD fics because I have been watching the show and I think it's a good opportunity to get this one out of my drafts - especially because it's shorter and easier to edit. If it's not your thing, feel free to ignore it. Also, I am not doing a taglist for this one because a lot of people on the taglist last time did not follow my taglist rules (basically, they were tagged and they didn't show up to read the fic, so it feels like a 'why bother' type of situation). So I'm gonna clean out the taglist and after such a short time, I am considering quitting taglists altogether. Anyway, if you do read it, I hope you enjoy the fic.

...

Need. 

That was the only word you could use to describe Daryl in those moments as he threw you down onto the cot and ripped your pants off with record speed. The air was absolutely ripe with need, the likes of which you had never felt or seen from Daryl before. Especially not in this magnitude. 

Daryl Dixon was someone who rarely came off as needy. 

Since the two of you had started this relationship (it was strange to call it a ‘relationship’ when there was so little conventional romance to it, and so few words) - Daryl was never someone you would have described as ‘needy’. He was always the definition of calm. He was level-headed, quiet, reserved - even more so in the face of your intense needs. The more you became a puddle of melded need, when you boiled over into pure want, especially in his presence, the more he turned into a stone wall of uncrackable cold hardness that you wanted so desperately to see crack. 

It was a game the two of you had been playing since day one. And he hadn’t lost yet, not once. 

Of course, the sex was amazing - even if he never let that facade down. He made sure that your overwhelming, unhidden need always came first. He made sure that you had cum first - usually more than once - before he even considered sticking his cock inside of you or letting you drop to your knees in order to serve him. He was never selfish - a man that lived to serve, in fact. 

That was why it surprised you when he came back from a run that day and grabbed you by your arm, practically dragging you out to the admin block. It was a place that you and Daryl had set up a little nest for personal privacy in the old warden’s office. Daryl had chosen the location both for its privacy, and for the wonderful irony. 

He found it downright hilarious that he was someone who had been reprimanded by cops before the total collapse of society and had been nearly arrested half a dozen times (he liked to put the emphasis on nearly, because he was a fast runner and often disappeared into the woods where they didn’t care to chase him, in contrast to someone like Merle, who was a known drug dealer was of far more interest to them - and much slower). Daryl was someone who could have easily ended up in prison, and now he could sit behind a warden’s desk and smoke a stash of fancy cigars that he had found hidden, and he had polished off the fancy whiskey in between fucking you. 

And he took an even greater enjoyment in fucking you pinned against the warden’s desk - but for practical purposes, he had lugged a cot into the office and set up a more comfortable space for the two of you there. The two of you even slept there sometimes because he still refused to sleep ‘in a cage’ - as he put it. Everyone else in the prison liked to fake that they didn’t know where the two of you went, but really - they were just glad that your love nest was far enough away from everyone else that they didn’t have to be subjected to the sounds you and Daryl made. 

And you were glad that you didn’t have to pretend to go hunting in order to escape to the woods for some privacy. Especially because, even as capable as Daryl was, the threat of Walkers looming over your head while he fucked you did make it a bit difficult to get fully lost in the sensations. 

But all of that was far at the back of your mind while he shucked off his crossbow and tossed it aside carelessly (usually he was someone who was careful to put away his weapon, not wanting to damage it so that he wouldn’t have to waste precious time on repairs) - but today, there was something simply rabid about him. Something itching and impatient. 

You couldn’t deny that it turned you on, but you had to question what had caused the shift in him. Especially when all of your little games - your teasing, your flirting, your dirty words - hadn’t been able to crack him for months. 

“Daryl, what’s gotten into-?” 

You couldn’t even finish posing the question before he began ripping on the waistband of your pants once again. That tense irritability became potent in the air once again when the fabric got caught up in your boots, Daryl letting out a deep grunt and glaring at the obstacle. 

You reached for the laces in order to get everything off, thinking this was what he wanted, but he simply put two large, commanding, calloused hands on the backs of your thighs and shoved down - hard. He pinned you down to the cot with a tough force, something that made the metal of the supposedly temporary furniture squeal with a worrying sound. You almost didn’t hear it over the pitiful, whorish gasp that escaped your lips. 

He was never like this. He was never so desperate. 

You loved it. Your body was flooded by heat, equally as desperate within seconds. 

“Daryl!” You cried out, half confused, half hot red and turned on. 

Your cunt ached fiercely and clenched around nothing and Daryl locked eyes with that pulsing gash, letting out a pleased hum. There was barely a blink before he dove between his own hands, digging in his fingers in tightly where they held onto your quivering muscles and immediately he licked a long, hard stripe up the center of your pussy. 

Hungry. 

That was a word you would have used to describe Daryl many times before.

He was messy and shameless when he ate meals. You had seen him dig into game bloody and raw when he had taken you out hunting, when he was starving and impatient and truly treasured a fresh kill. 

Currently, that’s exactly what you felt like - a fresh kill, recently captured by him, a true prey animal under his grasp being absolutely devoured while you could do nothing more but lay there and take it. 

It felt utterly amazing. 

It felt like where you belonged. 

The room soon became filled with sounds - loud, adamant slurping as his tongue furiously worked over your cunt, creating the same kind of shameless slobber that he did when he was thoroughly enjoying a meal. Your gasps and moans shuddering through your lungs as the sensations rocked your body, the pitiful squeaking protests of the cot as Daryl leaned against you more, putting more weight on those rusting springs. 

He began moaning against your heated flesh while he continued to hold you down by your trembling thighs, and while your ears rang with blood and your face bloomed with heat, you soon realized that the distant, repeated keening sound you could hear - almost like a dying cat - was you. 

You were having difficulty catching your breath and you quickly became dizzy from the hot, heavy pleasure vibrating up your body from his tongue. Made even better by the feeling of his coarse beard rubbing against your sensitive pussy lips, and the deep vibrations of his moans against you. 

All you could do was tightly clutch onto the blanket you had used to make up the cot and buck your face against him, hoping for him to shove his tongue deep inside of you or put some more persistent attention on your needy, throbbing clit, rather than simply grazing against the sensitive organ with each pass, making you more and more needy - 

Daryl groaned into your cunt and then, much to your frustration, he pulled away completely. 

“Stop squirmin’.” He grunted at you, his voice a whole new shade of dark and lustful thick that you had never heard from him - one that made your whole body quiver. 

You let out a pathetic moan, more wetness gushing out of you. 

“Daryl, please-” 

“Shut up.” 

Somehow, him barking this rudely at you made you even wetter. 

You squeaked out another pathetic little sound, expecting that he would get back to devouring you like you were his last meal, seemingly for his own pleasure - but then, he managed to surprise you yet again. 

He used his hold on your thighs to spread your legs (as much as he could with your pants still tangling your ankles together). And then he pursed his lips and heaved a thick, heavy glob of spit onto you - aiming perfectly and causing it to land right on your sensitive, swollen clit. 

Just like his perfect mouth, it was hot and slick, and simply seeing the shiny bead come from his lips to land on you caused you to scream and buck against him like a cow being branded. Which is exactly what he had intended - for you to be branded by him, marked as his, fully owned by him. 

Hot tears of pleasure escaped your eyes and he locked right onto your gaze - even through the choppy dark curtain of his too-long bangs, his steel blue eyes pierced into your soul and the burning lust you saw there punched you in the gut. When he took one of his hands off your thigh, you didn’t have a moment to think about what he was going to do before he brought the heavy pads of his tough, well-worked fingers down onto your already sore clit and spanked you. 

Once, twice, three times - something he had done to you before, knowing exactly how hard to hit you without making it painful, just enough to jolt shocking pleasure through your body and make you sob. 

“Listen, woman.” 

He ground his voice again, lowly, making you shiver when he leaned in and gripped your face with that now wet hand, forcing you to face forward and pay attention to him. You stared at him through tear-misty eyes, absolutely enraptured and lustful, wanting nothing more than him. 

“This is mine.” He growled these words with quiet power, driving his point home with another smack to your cunt that had you crying out and seizing against the touch. 

“Yours.” You chirped back, eager to affirm it, your brain filled with nothing but him. “Yours, all yours. Daryl-” 

Before you could babble out any more affirmations, he took an even tighter, possessive, bruising death grip on you once again. One hand on your hip and the other on your thigh - trying to keep you right where he wanted you as he dove back in, just as hungry. This time he gave into exactly what you wanted, seemingly because your words had been what he wanted. He knew you all too well even without words, and he latched his mouth around your mound with intent, laving his tongue furiously across your clit without relenting. 

You weren’t sure which was worse - the teasing, or him tongue-fucking your clit like he was trying to drive you insane. 

Your hand flew to his hair with the intention of shoving him off as white hot sparks of overstimulated pleasure-pain flew up through your gut, but your muscles curled instinctively and you wove a tight grip into his locks without thinking. Unintentionally drawing him closer and locking him in place as you gurgled out cries of wounded pleasure and he continued to moan against you, almost making your poor clit numb. 

But of course, being as perfect at this as he was with everything else, he drew an orgasm out of you just as he wanted to. 

“Daryl! Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m - ah!” 

He moaned against you in pure pleasure as it happened, and then he retreated down your pulsing hole to lick up every single bit of your wetness as it freshly flowed out of you. He continued to moan, slurping and flexing his tongue so he wouldn’t miss a drop, eating you like the finest delicacy he had ever experienced. His tongue even strayed down your perineum, dipping into your other hole a bit, clearly unafraid and never shy, not wanting to miss a single bit of your taste. 

You were left panting, desperate to catch your breath, and with your brain still completely out of commission, he stood up, his mind already on an entirely new track. You couldn’t contain your whine of disappointment when all of his warmth was suddenly gone, even his hands losing contact with your thrumming skin. 

“Daryl-?” 

You didn’t have long to question it before you heard the sound of a zipper. 

Not even knowing when you had closed your eyes, you whipped them open to see him shoving his pants down to mid-thigh and pumping his cock in hand a few stray times before he stepped toward you. You weren’t the biggest fan of the ‘bent in half like a pretzel’ position, as your back was starting to ache slightly, but he took the look of pure hunger in your eyes was all the consent he needed (especially with the way your gaze was focused on his cock, the slight glisten of precum beading at the tip). 

He was secure in knowing that you would stop him or tell him no if you needed to. 

And there were absolutely no thoughts of stopping on your mind when he put a hand back on your hip and used the other hand to guide his cock into you, sinking deep inside of your slicked, hot cunt in one smooth movement. 

Fuck - he always filled you up so fucking good. 

“Dar-” 

“All fuckin’ day.” Daryl growled out, tight through his teeth, taking only a single moment before he began to pump his hips forward, fucking into you. 

He wasn’t quite as furious as before, his pace slower now. Seemingly, he had gotten some of that pure need out of his system by eating your pussy. He began to thrust in and out of you at a leisurely pace, making you feel comfortably, pleasantly full. 

“All fuckin’ day, I had to listen to Zach’s goddamn yappin’.” 

Your brain was slowly coming back into function. 

He had gone on the run with Zach and Sasha. 

You thought Daryl liked Zach? 

Surprisingly, Daryl then reached for your shoes and began undoing the laces - perhaps now finally interested in getting your pants and shoes out of the way. You just laid back and let him do whatever he pleased, your cunt flashing with a warm, pleasant feeling - simply enjoying that it was Daryl fucking you. 

“Had to listen to that little smart-mouthed fuckin’ asshole-” 

Daryl let out another grunt, smacking his hips into yours particularly hard, causing you to let out a gasp. He took off one of your shoes and dropped it to the ground. 

“Had to listen to him go on and on about you.” 

What? 

Then went the other shoe. 

Your jeans followed soon after, easily untangled from your legs by Daryl’s deft fingers, making your legs free up to spread widely, inviting him in further - he laid himself down against your body, and you found your muscles much less stiff with your knees bracketing around his waist. There was another moment of comfortable fullness - stillness, as he laid there, nosing at your neck, seemingly enjoying your scent with deep breaths. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked, boiling over with curiosity until the question leapt out of you. 

“What happened with Zach?” You had to ask, still slightly fuck-dumb and confused. 

You didn’t know it, but hearing the name come off your lips was enough to trigger another intense wave of that feeling in Daryl. The jealousy, the neediness, the urge to claim you. 

Daryl let out another harsh growl - a sound coming from him that made your pussy leak around him and clench down hard on his cock. He grabbed both your hands and entwined your fingers with his - a fierce, demanding grip rather than a romantic one. He kept you pinned in place, right where he wanted you, and he began fucking his hips into you at a fast, hard pace that was enough to push a scream right from your lungs. 

“He - would-n’t - shut - the - fuck - up.” Daryl grunted in your ear, emphasizing each sharp syllable with a deep, harsh pounding of his hips into your pussy. “About you.” He whispered those words lowly, dangerously into your ear. 

“Daryl-” You gasped, your whole body dizzy and vibrating with that electricity once again. 

“About your ass-” 

He reached down and grabbed your ass - harsh, digging his fingers into the flesh with a possessive touch that made you cry out. He hammered his hips forward and used that touch to drag you toward his cock, fucking you onto him like a fleshlight for a few moments before he continued speaking. 

“About your tits-” 

He reached up and groped your breasts aggressively through your shirt, popping one of the tiny decorative buttons. A wreckage that would only serve to show off more cleavage in the end. Your nipples instantly became stiff under his touch and you arched into his hands - only for the rough, wonderful feeling to be gone too soon. 

“Daryl,” 

“He wouldn’t stop talkin’ bout what you might look like when you cum.” He growled out. “When he ain’t never gonna get to know.” 

It was thrilling, him being so possessive of you now. But you knew that it was so Daryl. Him being angry at Zach for speaking about you in a vulgar way, but holding his tongue - not speaking up then because he wanted to keep your relationship private, didn’t want to claim you in front of someone publicly. 

Or he simply kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to lose his temper when they had a job to do. 

“He wouldn’t stop-” 

“Please, I’m yours.” You moaned out, grinding your hips into him desperately, needy for his full and focused attention. 

As much as you enjoyed the jealousy streak that had started this heated encountered, you needed Daryl to focus on you now - not on the words of some petty boy who had either been trying to rile Daryl up or didn’t even know the two of you were together because of the lack of PDA in your relationship. 

“Daryl, please. I’m yours.” 

“Tha’s right,” Daryl growled out, his voice dangerously low. “You’re mine.” 

He leaned tightly over you once again, and when his hips picked up speed - you were done for.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has already been written. If you like this and you want to see more of my fics in my style, you can check out my most recent fic Heaven's Gate, which is also a Daryl Dixon x Reader fic, or you can check out my other TWD works on AO3.

[selfcarecap]

Lip Gloss [A.D.]

Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)

summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂‍↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3

word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons

When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained. 

When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him. 

But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it. 

“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words. 

And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see. 

He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you. 

-

You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips. 

“You look so pretty.” 

He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour. 

He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you. 

Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off. 

You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good. 

You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal. 

“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.” 

“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him. 

You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily. 

“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.

 “Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”

“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down. 

“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.” 

“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly. 

Patrick laughs again. 

“Shut up.”

Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid. 

“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.” 

You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips. 

You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips. 

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes. 

“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now. 

“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.” 

You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious. 

“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.

 - 

You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.

Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.  

Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room. 

Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours. 

“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here. 

You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.

“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”

Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.

You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.

“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.

Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.

You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.

You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip. 

You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”

“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.

You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.

“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.

“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”

Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.

You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious. 

You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.

He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.

Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.

When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.

He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips. 

He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.

As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that. 

If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.

“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting. 

You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.

“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin. 

Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.

“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.

“This is all you get.”

Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”

He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.

“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”

You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.

You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.

You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.

“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.

“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.

“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.

“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.

“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.

When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.

You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out. 

You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that. 

P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭

[baby-yongbok]

Brainless Baby

Boyfriend!Felix x Afab!Reader x Best Friend!Hyunjin

♡ Genre - Explicit Sexual Content [MDNI]

♡ Word Count - 4k

♡ Summary - "You're the only guy to ever make me crawl"

♡ Warnings - Hyunlix action (mxm), Oral ( m & f rec.), Cum sharing, dom/sub dynamics (sub Hyunjin, Dom Felix & Reader) , unprotected sex, creampie [I think that's all] ♡ a/n - What's a plot? We don't know her. We just know the pure filth that is this fic. Would you believe me if I said that I haven't even seen the SKZ Code with that line that inspired this fic? I'm so behind. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

✧ Masterlist ✧

You like to say that you’re the best friend that anyone can have and you think that Hyunjin would agree if you asked him. You’re the type of person who takes pride in helping a friend in need. Someone needs money? You’ll lend them some. One of your friends needs help moving? You’ll lend a hand. Your best friend is feeling stressed from work? You’ll invite him over to fuck you and your boyfriend. It’s simple. 

Ever since you started inviting Hyunjin into your bedroom with your boyfriend, Felix, it’s been a rollercoaster ride. Since you and your partner are more of the kinky type each scene has been an adventure. It can range from simple planned out play to completely unpredictable. Even with you knowing all of that you never thought that you’d see something like this.

"You're the only guy to ever make me crawl." Hyunjin huffed with a smile as he looked up at the blonde smirking down at him. "You're just gonna let him do this to me, princess?"

He looks up at you with a playful glint in his eye. He doesn't hate this as much as he wants you to think he does but it's fun to play along. 

"I don't know I kinda like you on your knees" You kneel to Hyunjin’s level, running your fingers through his hair before closing your fist around the locks and forcing his head back slowly. A groan escapes him.

"Doesn't he look pretty down there, angel?" Felix kneels down to your level so that he's face to face with Hyunjin. "You wanna get up?"

You expected Hyunjin to roll his eyes. You expected him to tell you both that he obviously wants to get up with that annoyed rasp to his voice but he doesn't. He whimpers instead, shaking his head to the best of his ability while he whispers to you both. "I don't "

"You wanna stay on your knees for us? Follow us around on all fours like a pet?" Felix coos, his condescending tone pulls a whine from Hyunjin's throat. The blonde takes his middle and pointer finger and places it under Hyunjin's chin. He tips his head up so that there's nowhere else to look but at him. "You wanna be a good boy for me today, Hyunjinnie?"

 It’s seldom that Hyunjin lets his guard down like this. You and Felix have had this dynamic with him for close to a year now but he’s never taken on the submissive role like this. He’s more of the stubborn type, rolling his eyes and making you or Felix force him into submission but never fully going into the headspace. It’s always just enough to blow off some steam. 

You know that Hyunjin leads a busy life, that’s why he comes to you two. He says that he likes to relinquish control after the long and hard days of doing what everyone else wants him to do. He likes to put a chunk of his trust into the hands of you and Felix but it’s never this much. He never hands it all over. 

When he called you yesterday to set up today's meeting he mentioned something about not wanting to have to think anymore. He said that he just wants to exist and be told what to do, what to think, what to say. He said that he needed a break and that’s exactly what he’s getting.

“C’mere” Felix beckons the raven haired boy with two fingers as he walks three steps in front of him. You follow behind, trailing slowly as you watch Hyunjin follow the younger's orders. “Feeling brainless today, baby?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, no hesitation or thought to what he’s agreeing to at all. “That’s alright.” Felix’s accent is thick on his tongue as he stops walking, turning to the boy behind him with a sweet smile that contradicts all pending action. 

“We’ll take care of you, won’t we angel?” He glances up at you with the same smile.

“Such good care of you. I promise, Hyune.” You pet his head and he melts into the touch. You can’t help but to stare at him, awestruck by how fast he’s fallen into this headspace. He’s never been this far gone before. 

Hyunjin runs his tongue over his bottom lip before sucking the corner of it into his mouth. Felix notices and takes a step closer. His two fingers find a spot under Hyunjin’s chin once again, guiding the eldests gaze to his. “Need something?” Felix runs the tip of his thumb over Hyunjin’s bottom lip, freeing the corner from his teeth. 

“What do you need, pretty boy?” The rumble of Felix’s tone makes you press your thighs together seconds before Hyunjin does the same. Your best friend peers up at you with his big brown eyes glazed in a way that you’ve never seen before. He looks between you two, waiting for someone to decide what it is that he needs. 

“I think that he needs his mouth full, Lix.” Hyunjin nearly crumbles at your feet once your suggestion hits the air. His eyelids flutter shut for just a second as he sucks the corner of his lip back into his mouth.

You step closer to Hyunjin so that he can lean his head on the side of your leg. You watch as his fingers spread and the tips slightly dig into the carpet beneath him in anticipation. 

“Is that it?” Felix blinks down at Hyunjin with a teasing gaze as he slowly slips his finger between Hyunjin’s plump blushed lips. You watch, bare cunt dripping under your skirt as Hyunjin welcomes every bit of Felix’s finger into his mouth. 

The younger exhales a shaky breath as the kneeling boy swirls his tongue around the digit with a light moan. He sucks lightly while mindlessly bobbing his head a bit. His glistening eyes stare up at Felix like he’s hung the stars in the sky. You’re speechless. Wildly turned on but utterly speechless.

 Felix's finger slides in and out of Hyunjin's mouth at a slow, agonizing pace. The younger fights back a full body shudder as Hyunjin gets lost in the action. 

Your hand moves on its own as you watch them. You stroke Hyunjin’s freshly cut hair at the back of his head to coax him further into his relaxed state. 

 Felix's watches with an amused twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes as Hyunjin moans at the pressure of him pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the middle of his tongue. His eyes knit together as your boyfriend slowly pries his mouth open. Felix bends to Hyunjin’s level once again as he slides his finger out of Hyunjin’s mouth and replaces the digit with his tongue. He leans in quickly, pulling your friend into a slow and sloppy kiss.  

Hyunjin’s hand finds your ankle and the tips of his fingers sink into the flesh as Felix explores his mouth. He whines against your boyfriend, moaning and pushing into the kiss with a desperation that you’re not sure that you could ever match. 

A quiet moan slips past your lips as you watch them. Your pulse picks up at the naughty scene unfolding in front of you as you take in every inch of them. Every detail. You and Felix have opened your relationship to help several other friends, you’ve seen Felix dom some of your friends, some of his friends and even some strangers but this feels different. It feels so hot and effortless like he’s been preparing for the day that Hyunjin lets his guard down. 

The feeling of a new hand on the outside of your leg makes you jump, pulling your focus away from the boys in front of you and down to the source.You watch as Felix’s hand trails up the front of your leg, slithering up your calves and tickling the inside of your thigh before it disappears under your skirt. “Fuck.” He rasps, his mouth still semi full of Hyunjin’s tongue.

He nips down on Hyune’s bottom lip as he pulls away, a thin line of spit connects them until Felix turns to look up at you. “Watching us made you that wet, angel?” 

 While Felix is talking to you Hyunjin stares up at your boyfriend with a dazed expression. He’s fucked out, there isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense. “How about we have this sweet boy taste you.” 

Hyunjin switches the target of his attention. He stares up at you as he sits back on his knees, still on all fours just how Felix wanted him. He almost looks like a cat waiting patiently for its meal. “C’mere Hyune.”

He scoots forward and you lift the front of your skirt to show off your bare cunt to him. He whimpers, squeezing his thighs together once again and looking up at you with watery eyes that are desperate to spill over with tears of pure pleasure. “Stick your tongue out.” You instruct softly and Felix watches it all from behind him. Hyunjin quickly obeys, poking out the muscle over his bottom lip with his head tilted back just enough to see both you and Felix at the same time. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart.” Felix takes your hand that’s not holding up your skirt and leads you forward until your cunt is resting on Hyunjin’s tongue. He moans just as you do, your head kicks back with eyes shut tight as he starts to lave over your swollen bud. The tip of his tongue dips and weaves between your folds sloppily encouraging your well watered flower to spill over his chin as he gets more into it. 

Your moans are echoing through the room and Felix listens to them like music. “Looks like he did need his mouth full, huh?” Felix muses while he combs his fingers through Hyunjin’s long locks.

 Hyunjin's eyes roll back and he lets out a satisfied sigh. “C’mon make my baby feel good.”  Felix fists Hyunjins hair and pushes him further against you. He groans, his nose is pushed up against your pubic mound as he sucks and swirls your clit. 

“Hyune, Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum.” His thighs press together and his fingers twist and fist at the shaggy living room carpet beneath him. Felix notices it all, he notices everything. From the way that you’re rocking your hips against Hyunjin’s mouth and pinching your nipples over your shirt to the way that Hyunjin’s hard cock desperately twitches in his slacks in a pathetic attempt to feel any friction at all. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” 

Felix gets behind you to make sure that you stand steady as you come undone on Hyunjin’s tongue. If you were dripping before then you are pouring now, soaking up every inch of Hyunjin’s chin with your sweet water. 

Felix kisses the curve of your neck as you come down from your high and Hyunjin kitten licks and cleanses every bit of you that he can reach. He’s so far gone, so fucking horny that he’s damn near panting for more. He needs more. “That’s my girl.” Felix leads you back and over to the couch so that you can take a second to come down from space. 

He sets his sights back on the cat-like boy a couple of steps away from you. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to take him in. He’s still in his work clothes, a white button up untucked from his black slacks with the first four buttons undone. There are wet spots on his collar and by his buttons courtesy of your dripping cunt. His dick is rock hard in his slacks, straining dangerously against the bulging zipper. It’s practically begging for attention. His hands are in fists and his lips are still wet, so fucking wet. 

“And that’s my boy.” Hyunjin’s hazy eyes nearly sparkle once Felix starts towards him. Your boyfriend grins with a faint chuckle. “She’s so sweet isn’t she?” Hyunjin nods, never breaking eye contact with Felix. 

“Care to share?” The blonde kneels, tipping Hyunjin’s chin up with a single finger before licking up his lips to collect your lingering arousal. He plants sloppy kisses against his lips that Hyunjin struggles to keep up with but tries to reciprocate anyway. “So damn good.”

He leans back, looking your best friend in the eye for a second or two before leaning in and kissing Hyunjin's forehead. His lips linger there for a few moments before he pulls away. “You did so good for her.”

Your vision is clearer now as you watch them from your spot on the couch, cunt still dripping. “Thank you, Hyune.” You coo and the corner of his mouth nearly turns up in a smile but that would require thought and he can’t seem to think right now. 

“He’s gone dumb, baby.” Felix stands, leaving Hyunjin on his knees. “Come.” He beckons him with two fingers and Hyunjin follows, crawling close behind Felix until he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

“Let’s see if he can go dumb on my cock now.” Felix unties his sweatpants and Hyunjin audibly falls apart just for a second. He moans, bucking into the air as he sits back on his knees. “You wanna suck it? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

Hyunjin bites at his bottom lip, watching carefully as Felix frees himself from his sweats. “I think our brain-dead baby still wants his mouth full. Poor thing, isn’t satisfied yet.” You speak up for Hyunjin, leaning over and patting his head as he waits to have his mouth busy again. 

 “Poor thing.” Felix teases. “Lemme see your tongue.” 

Hyunjin sticks out the muscle just as he did before, perfectly flat over his bottom lip. Felix beckons him closer with a bent finger and Hyunjin leans forward so that he’s no longer sitting on his knees. He’s on all fours again. 

Felix slaps the tip of his cock against Hyunjins tongue with a deep groan. He rubs it back and forth a bit to tease the eager boy as spit drips off the tip of his tongue. “Suck.” Hyunjin acts immediately, wrapping his lips around Felix’s ruddy tip with a satisfied moan. His eyes flutter shut as he swirls his tongue and your boyfriend throws his head back against the couch at the feeling. 

“That fucking mouth.” You lean over, stretching your arm over Felix’s chest and splaying your hand over his toned stomach. 

“Is he better than me, Lixie?” Your boyfriend looks over at you with pinched brows and a fucked out glint in his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile as he shakes his head. 

“Close.” He runs his hand up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You don’t take your eyes off of him while he touches you. “But nothing can beat your mouth, baby.”

You lean in with a smile but it melts away once your lips meet Felix’s. He licks into your mouth with a hot desire that you feel right in your core. He moans into you and you swallow it with a greedy thirst for more. More of him, more of Hyunjin, more pleasure. More of everything. 

“Shit.” He rasps against your lips and you pull away to look down at Hyunjin. His eyes are closed as he bobs his head, deep throating Felix every now and then with drool running from the corners of his plump lips and over his chin. He’s more of a mess than before and it’s so hot. So damn hot that you just have to give your cunt some more attention. 

You open your legs wide enough for one of them to almost drape over Felix’s knee and you snake your hand down to where you're drenched for the boys in front of you. Your fingers carefully run over your swollen clit, it’s still sensitive from Hyunjin’s skillful attack but it feels too good to care. “Greedy, baby.” Felix tsks as he pulls you back in for a sloppy kiss. 

Your fingers dip into your cunt and after a bit of playing on your own Felix’s nimble fingers find your clit to show it some attention. You turn into a moaning mess just like Hyunjin. A desperate cry leaves him with each bob of his head. “Fuck, Hyune. Look at me, baby. Eyes on me lemme see em.” 

Hyunjin looks up at Felix with watery eyes clouded with lust and a drooling mouth full of his cock. It’s hot. It’s so hot that you’re shaking and cumming the second that you see him like that. 

Hyunjin whimpers and bucks his hips at the sight of you coming undone again. His straining cock brushes against the couch and it feels so good that he chokes on the throbbing cock in his throat.

 “Wanna touch yourself?” Felix asks, voice raspy with his pending orgasm lingering in the pit of his stomach. Hyunjin moans, blinking up at Felix in a desperate attempt to beg. “Jerk your cock while you suck me off.”  

That’s all Hyunjin had to hear to get his hands to rush down and pop the button of his slacks. The zipper undid itself with the pressure of his cock against it. He moans more wildly around your boyfriend's dick now that he has his own in his fist. He hisses as he polishes the angry tip, nearly choking on spit as he takes a sharp inhale. 

With Hyunjin’s attention split between himself and Felix the younger decides to help the desperate boy complete his original task. Felix’s hand fists Hyunjin’s hair and starts to help him bob his head over him. He speeds up and slows down to his heart's content until his cock is twitching in your best friend's mouth. “Gonna - fucking nut. Gonna fucking cum.”

Hyunjin is damn near crying as he works his cock and Felix’s in tandem. He’s a mess of moaning and groaning. His eyes are rolling back, spit is dripping down his chin and chest while pre-cum paints his throat and his fist. He’s fucked out. Debauched. 

“Ah, shit.” Felix bucks up into his throat, halting all movement as he spills his load into Hyunjin’s mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He grunts his demand through clenched teeth as he rides out his orgasm. He thrusts once, twice, three times into Hyunjin’s mouth before he slowly pulls out. 

“Fuck.” You and Felix hiss at the same time when a bit of cum drips down Hyunjin’s chin. He keeps his mouth closed while he strokes his own cock. He’s waiting for instruction, he’s waiting for you two to say that he can cum. “C’mere Jinnie.” 

He stops touching himself so that he can crawl in between you and Felix on the couch. He looks like a cat again, a desperate little kitty. 

You and Felix both move into him, your fingertips grazing over his skin as you unbutton his shirt further to reveal more of him. Once his chest is on display you lean in and brush your tongue over one of his hard nipples. He always tells you that that does close to nothing for him but the reaction you get from him as you wrap your lips around the bud would deem that a lie. 

“You’ve been so good.” You coo, kissing a trail up over his clavicle and licking bruising kisses into the skin of his neck.

“Such a good boy for us.” Felix fists Hyunjin's twitching cock and he moans into the air, throwing his head back with pinched brows as he twists his fist over his length. 

When Hyunjin leans up to get a look at the way that Felix is jerking him off you both lean in. Your mouths meet in a sloppy and passionate three way kiss that has Felix’s cum leaking from between Hyunjin’s lips and into your mouths. You moan at the familiar taste of Felix’s arousal and Felix moans at the mess spilling over his chin and down his neck.  

Felix pulls away and you take over the kiss, licking up all of the cum you missed and trailing sloppy kisses back down Hyunjin’s neck to collect what the two of you missed. While you're busy with that Hyunjin has his eyes on Felix who is spitting all of the cum he collected in his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock. The warmth slides down his shaft in a sinful slow mo that makes Hyunjin’s toes curl. 

The lewd squelching of Hyunjin’s cum covered cock fucking Felix’s fist fills the room and you can feel the man next to you start to unravel with desperation. “Wanna cum, Hyune?” He’s nodding violently, moaning while staring over at you. “Here.”

You nod over at Felix and the two of you silently agree to switch. You throw your leg over Hyunjin to straddle his sticky cock while Felix pulls him in for a sloppy kiss. You position his pulsing tip at your soaked hole and he slips right in. 

“Gahh - Fuck. Fuck.” Hyunjin breaks his silence as he pulls away from Felix’s lips and throws his head back with a loud cry. He presses his hips into you, reaching you impossibly deep. “Can’t, can’t. Fuck, baby I can’t.” 

You grind against him, purposely clenching around him to pull some deeper cries from him. “Nghhahhh - Fuck. Lix, can I? Can I cum? Please, please, need it. Need to.”

He’s rambling as you start to bounce over him. He tries his damn best to look over at Felix and beg for his release. He really does try but his eyes just keep rolling back and fluttering shut. He can barely breathe right. His breath keeps getting stuck in his chest until he exhales with a shaky moan. 

“She feels so good doesn’t she? You like her riding your cock?” Hyunjin shakes his head, words don’t make sense anymore. He doesn’t think that they ever will again. He bites his lip so hard that he could draw blood. “Wanna ride mine like that when she’s done?”

“Shit.” Hyunjin hisses and Felix smiles that cocky smile that you seem to find contagious at the moment. “Please, please - gahhh - gotta cum.”

Felix looks over at you and you at him. He winks at you and you take that as your cue. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Hyunjin’s neck and pulling his messy chest closer to you until he’s flush against you. His arms wrap around your waist as he lets you fuck him, he’s holding on for dear life. His honey skin is tinted red and he’s holding his breath until he hears you say it.

“Cum for us, Hyunjinnie.” A moan rips through him and he’s breathing again. His eyes are screwed shut and his fingers dig into you so hard that you just know that It’ll leave delicious bruises behind. He holds you still against him and starts fucking up into you desperately.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is decorated with your twin moans and Felix watches it all with his hardening cock between his fingers as he strokes it languidly. 

“Ah fuck.” He thrusts into you one last time before you feel him start to fill you up. Ropes of his hot sticky cum fall right on top of the other and collect around his cock that’s still plugging your pulsing hole. You grind against him, helping him ride out his orgasm as aftershocks of it all zap through him. 

“There we go.” You pepper kisses over his face as he pants beneath you, his head rests against the back of the couch and sweat beads and falls from his hairline. You comb back the hair sticking to his glistening skin with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“I-” He swallows hard, trying his best to form any words at all. “I’m good.”  

You chuckle, placing a quick kiss on his lips before starting to untangle the two of you. “You need water.” You move to get it once you’re up and Felix watches you walk away with Hyunjin’s cum sliding down the inside of your thigh. 

“You did well.” Felix pulls Hyunjin closer to rest on his shoulder. “Are you done for the day? Are you satisfied?”

The raven haired boy looks up at your blonde lover with that same fucked out gaze. It’s still hazy. Still desperate. “Not even close.” 

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[dangerousstrawberryshark]

A Loving Husband

🍓A/n🍓 → Hello, my 🍓little strawberries🍓! I know I’ve been gone for a long time. I will be graduating soon! So, now I’ll have time to complete some work! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic.

⚡Pairing(s)⚡→ Alpha Thor Odinson x Omega Male Reader ⚡Rating⚡→ Explicit ⚡Request⚡→ Yes ⚠Warnings⚠→ Top Thor Odinson, bottom omega male reader, omegaverse, praise kink, slight spanking, blowjob (M! Reader receiving, biting, anal sex, cockring, overstimulation, and breeding kink

Word Count → 1.5k

Summary: Your heat came in full force, and your mate/husband, Thor Odinson knows what to do.

Read Before Continuing → If you are younger than 18 or any warnings make you uncomfortable, DO NOT CONTINUE reading! You may continue reading if there are no problems!

You could only whine and groan in pain, heat coursed through your body as you gripped the sheets, sweat running down your forehead. Even though you were naked, it was still too hot. Your cock leaked precum, slick dripping, and gushing out of your ass. 

Stroking your cock was not enough. No matter how many times you orgasmed, the cum coating your chest was not enough. You needed your mate, your alpha to satisfy your desire. Just the thought of his muscular body and his musky alpha smell made you gush more precum and slick. You continued stroking your cock and fingering your ass at the thought.

Then the door opened and Thor walked into the room, he was instantly hit with the smell of his mate in heat. The God of Thunder could feel his cock beginning to become erect as he saw you withering, your body glistening with sweat, cock red, and throbbing, and your tight hole clenching and gushing slick. 

At the sight of your husband, you immediately presented yourself. You were turning around, getting on all fours, arching your back, and spreading your legs to give Thor a perfect view. 

“T-Thor… I-I need you.” You whimpered as you enticed your mate to mount and fuck you onto cloud nine.

“Love, why didn’t you call me?” Thor says as he approaches you, stripping his clothes off. 

Looking back, you could see Thor's muscular body, his defined abs and pecs being the most noticeable and those arms were to die for. Your cock throbbed more from the sight,  plus your mate’s musky smell was making you more submissive and horny. 

“I would’ve come right away if you had called me,” Thor says as he flips you over onto your back and starts kissing your neck slowly moving down to your crotch, giving small kisses and bites along the way.

You let the man continue his kisses until you felt Thor’s wet tongue licking your throbbing cock. The sensation was tingling as your sensitive cock was swallowed by the warmth of Thor’s mouth, the blonde man groaned as he gulped down your precum. 

Thor’s mouth was sucking and licking your cock, one hand massaging your swollen balls, and the other rimming your hole. Suddenly, you felt two of his fingers slowly pushing in. 

“Fuck…” Thor mumbled as his fingers were coated with your slick. A squelching sound echoed throughout the room, and the sounds of your whining and moans got louder. 

Clenching the sheets and toes curling in, you move one hand down to grip Thor’s head and start slamming into his mouth. You could hear him gagging on your cock and drooling as you thrust into his mouth.

As Thor drools on your cock, his fingers push deeper. Your chest heaves and your grip tightens, signaling your fifth orgasm. As you come down from your high, Thor pulls away, his breathing slows as he pulls his fingers out.

“W-why… d-did you stop?” You whine as you try to start stroking your arching cock only for Thor to smack your hand. He didn’t respond. His piercing blue eyes stared into yours as he licked his fingers clean of your slick. You could hear him moaning at the taste before he responded to your question.

“Because… I want to see you cum on my cock. Want to see you turn into a cock slut, you being the slutty omega that you are.” Thor growls as he moves over to the nearby nightstand and pulls out a cockring. You whine as he slowly puts it on your cock, preventing you from cumming.

His blue eyes stared into your e/c eyes before he pulled your body closer to his. The blonde man then moves his body between your legs, the missionary position, his favorite. You could feel his large cock rimming around your throbbing wet entrance.

“Are you ready?” Thor asks as his throbbing cock leaks precum, mixing with your slick. His chest heaves as he waits for his cock to be swallowed by the tight heat of your ass. You nod your head desperately, even pushing backward, trying to take Thor’s cock into your ass. 

You could feel the blunt head of the blonde man’s cock pushing past the muscle rim. As the pressure increases, your breath becomes shaky. Thor grips your hips as he tries not to hurt you. The pressure ends when your rim gives in and you feel the swelling flesh of Thor’s cock sinking into you. 

The room becomes filled with the moans and groans of both men. Thor stops momentarily, but you give him the consent to continue pushing deeper. “T-Thor… s-so deep inside me!” You moan as the air leaves your lungs. Your sobs of pleasure fill the room as Thor hilts inside you, your ass squeezing and spasming around the blonde man’s thick cock. 

“Fuck… even though I’ve stretched this tight ass, you’re still tight as a virgin, boy.” Thor groans, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your hot ass tightening around him. You look at Thor with pure euphoria and satisfaction and with that “fuck me like a slut” look. 

Thor did not waste any more time, pulling halfway out before thrusting back into your ass. The loud squelching sound rang through the room. The blonde man was enchanted by your facial expressions as he stared down at you, your tear-stained and flustered face twisted with fulfillment. 

“So fucking tight… luckiest man in the world to have such a slutty husband.” Thor groans, his breathing becoming more labored, his thrust becoming firmer and faster. The God of Thunder’s cock is coated with your excess slick – so much that with each thrust, slick spills down your crack. He could feel your hands move to grope his ass.

“Fuck yeah… love it when you grope my ass,” Thor said, hoarse and low as he continues fucking your ass. He looks down to see your cock– all red and throbbing. Suddenly, your moans got louder as you could feel Thor‘s cock slamming into your prostate. Thor notices and makes sure to angle himself to keep hitting that spot. 

“T-Thor! Please… please! I need to cum!” You whine and cry. You needed to cum, your body was overwhelmed with too much pleasure. The cockring was doing its job perfectly, preventing you from having another orgasm. However, the overstimulation was too much and Thor debated what to do. 

“Be a good boy and cum for me,” Thor says as he removes the cockring, giving you a chance. It did not take more than one thrust before you came. 

Your loud moan echoed throughout the tower, white cum spraying all over your chest, some even landing on your face. Thor groans at the sight, seeing you coated with cum.

“Fuck… I’m close!” *Thor growls as his thrust gets sloppier and slower. You took that opportunity to clench around him— trying to milk his large cock of all its potent cum, causing the blonde man’s panting to become more intense. 

“Fuck!” Thor moaned as he gave one final thrust. You grabbed Thor’s ass cheeks to push him deeper, causing you both to give out loud moans. The feeling of Thor’s cum flooding your asshole was euphoric as his sticky load painted your insides. 

Both of you panting, Thor’s body collapsing onto yours, his cock now flaccid. You could hear him panting in your ears as he slowly pulled out with a loud gushing sound. He groans at the sight of his cum oozing out of your gaping ass and he rolls over to lay next to you.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Thor says as he kisses your cheek. As his hand moves down over your stomach, he can only imagine seeing his spawn growing inside you.

You whine happily,  but you aren’t done yet. Your hand snakes down to Thor’s crotch and starts stroking the blonde man’s cock. The man groans as you stroke his cock back to an erect position.

“I’m still in heat. Ready for round two?” You groan as you reposition yourself on his lap. 

Unbeknownst to you both, someone was watching stroking his cock to the sight. “God fucking damn…” the stranger groans as he pinches his nipples.

THE END!

Taglist: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost

Thank you, my proofreaders: @sagethegaywitch and @mattey-stu

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[wonbonie]

Twisted Games

warings : smut, mdni, college students reader Jake, sunghoon and Jay, threesome, lube, boobs fondling, boobs sucking, fingering, anal, first time anal, cunnilingus, blowjob, anal-fingering, panty stealing, masturbation, exhibtionist kinks, inexperienced jay hoon and jake, reader is horny af, public sex, semi public, creepy mean and pervert sunghoon, jay as tutor, Jake as popular guy, no prof read

a/n : I thought I will make this as a Jake fic but when i was writing a brilliant idea came in my mind what if I write this as 02z smut fic.... it's extremely nasty and after this post I will post the complete oneshot; idek how i wrote something like this.

word count : counting....

Taglist : @hyuukas

Summary :

In the vibrant, chaotic world of college life, where desire and temptation intertwine under the flickering fluorescent lights of dormitory rooms, a secret society thrives among students. This fraternity is not just about parties and pranks; it’s about exploring hidden pleasures and boundaries. Within this realm, relationships pulse with an electric tension—friendships layered with unspoken lust, where roles blur between dominance and submission. Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay are part of this sultry tapestry—a trio bound by mutual attraction yet torn by societal norms that dictate their behavior. Here in their shared sanctuary behind closed doors, inhibitions fade as they indulge in fantasies that challenge conventional expectations. The thrill lies not only in sexual encounters but also in trust forged through vulnerability; each encounter deepens connections while unraveling layers of identity as they explore realms beyond simple hookups into something intoxicatingly profound.

[im-ovulating]

For Kinktober: anything with Jasper Whitlock, but preferably size kink (short reader), voice kink, hand kink, and some on top of the clothes action / sex in the clothes. Choose all of it or one, I don't care, just having a brainrot about him: my ovaries explode every time I see this gif

(A/n: Kinktober Day 6/15! I wanted to keep all of this year's kinktober fics below 2.5k, but this one got away from me ;v;)

Word Count: 3,842

Summary- Well, you HAVE to take on his challenge -I mean, experiment. It's only the responisble thing to do as his study partner.

Warnings: Strip game, Fingering, PIV, Creampie, Cocky! Jasper, Not proofread

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Study Buddy

----------------------

"Did you know that predators have front-facing eyes, but prey normally have eyes on the side of their faces?" You ask Jasper as you scan your textbook. He had agreed to help you study for an upcoming test. "It's because the prey has to be able to look out for danger."

Not only is evolutionary bio not your strongest subject, but your professor is an asshat so you really can't afford to fail this test.

"I did," he mumbles as he highlights a section that he thinks you should go through again. "Did you know that when two animals make eye contact, the first to look away is the submissive?" Jasper asks back.

"That's gotta be BS, right? What if one just doesn't want to look at the other's ugly mug?" Your retort is weak, but your tone has the confidence of a straight, cis, white man who's telling you what your own name means.

Jasper lets out a small, huffed laugh and finally looks up at you, warm gold meeting e/c. "I don't think animals think that way, darlin'."

"Are you an animal whisperer?" You snark, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.

"Do you really think it's not real?" He gets back on topic. When you shake your head, he turns his chair towards you before doing the same to your own so you both face each other. "Really? Then, let's test that theory, hm? You seem pretty confident in yourself, so what's the harm?"

"I seem pretty confident because I am pretty confident." You mark your place and shut the textbook.

He chuckles with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back, Jasper says, "Let's play a game."

"We're supposed to be studyin-" "It's a science experiment."

When you fall back against your seat, he continues. "We'll make eye contact, we'll stare at each other, and the first to look away loses. And if you lose..." he smirks a little, "you lose a piece of clothing. Best out of five wins."

You chew on your lip as you mull it over. You're confident that you can keep eye contact. And the submissive thing is bullshit, anyway, so it's not like your pride will take a hit. "So, strip poker but with a staring contest?" He nods.

"Exactly."

"...okay."

You meet Jasper's warm golden gaze, determination etched on your face. There's no way you're going to lose this little game of his.

"I know what's going to happen. You're going to give in; you can't take the pressure." You ignore him, zeroing on a small fleck of dark gold in his eyes to ground your thoughts.

As the seconds tick by, you resist the urge to look away, focused solely on holding Jasper's stare. His voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl, keeping those pretty eyes on me."

Your breath catches at the sudden praise, your lips parting in a small, silent gasp. You won't let him distract you that easily, though. You're in it to win it.

Jasper's long, slender fingers drum lightly against his jean-clad thigh, drawing your gaze for just a moment before you force yourself to look back into his eyes. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.

It takes you a second to realize. "...fuck!"

"That's my round, darlin'." He goads.

With a small grumble and more force than necessary, you all but rip your socks off and throw them at his head. He catches them before they even get close. You're less coordinated in your attempt to dodge them, and all you can do is grumble more when they hit you square in the middle of your face.

"Stop looking so smug - there's still plenty of time for me to whoop your ass." You can't decide if you want to wipe that dumb-ass, unfairly charming smirk off his equally handsome face or if you want to pull him in and kiss him silly. Probably both... Yeah, both is good.

Jasper's eyes gleam with amusement as he watches your continued huffing and puffing. He leans back in his chair, his fingers still tapping against his leg.

"Don't be so sour, darlin'," he grins, his voice low and velvety smooth. "The game's just getting started."

You narrow your eyes at him, determined not to let his distracting voice and looks throw you off this time. "Just shut up and start the next round, Whitlock."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds your gaze. The air crackles with tension as you both refuse to back down, each daring the other to be the first to look away.

The seconds tick by, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel the weight of Jasper's stare, intense and captivating, drawing you in. Your pulse quickens, palms growing sweaty, but you refuse to lose again.

Just when you think you might actually win this round, Jasper's lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "You know you want to look away. You want to give in, to submit; it's in your DNA. C'mon... Just look away, prove what we both already know: that when it comes down to it, you'd do nothing but roll over and show your belly..."

You roll your eyes in a subconscious attempt to ignore how his words, no matter how much they were shit talking, made your heart leap into your throat. With a triumphant smirk, Jasper declares, "My round again."

"That's not fair! You shouldn't be able to annoy me into losing!" You lie through your teeth about the true effect he's having on you.

Barking out a laugh, he says, "The only rule was that we can't look away. We never decided talking or touching were off limits. You lost fair and square, sugar, so lose an item."

"But-" "Three seconds before i decide which one," he interrupts with a cheeky grin. "and you might not like what I choose... Three. Two-" You let out a frustrated groan, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. His laughter only serves to further stoke the flames of your competitive spirit. "There we go! Good girl."

"I thought we're supposed to be studying." You try to feign nonchalance as you sit there, bra exposed and with only three items left. Technically, you're tied in terms of clothing remaining, but it's also not lost on you that it's currently 0-2 in Jasper's favor.

"We are studying; this is a science experiment, remember? Unless you're ready to admit that you're wrong AND that you're submissive. That would be quite the win on my end." Well, shit. Now you can't back out. You'll be damned if you let him have something to hang over your head.

"Just you wait, Whitlock," you snap, trying to regain your focus for the next round. "I'm just getting warmed up."

You narrow your eyes at Jasper, determined not to let him fluster you again. The stakes are higher now, but you've got this.

Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once again. The tension in the air is palpable as you both refuse to back down.

Jasper's lips curl into a challenging smirk, his long fingers still tapping a steady rhythm against his thigh. You force yourself to focus solely on his eyes, blocking out everything else.

Seconds turn to minutes as you hold his stare, your heartbeat thundering in your ears but you refuse to waver.

Just when you think you're finding a groove and might stand a chance at winning, Jasper leans forward, his voice low and sultry. "You're doing so well, darlin'. But I can see it in your eyes - you're starting to crack."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, but you grit your teeth and push on. You will not lose this round, no matter what underhanded tactics he tries.

The room fills with an intensity that almost makes it hard to breath as you continue your silent battle of wills. Jasper's gaze is unwavering, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes your breath catch and waver.

Jasper's hand suddenly moves, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens but you refuse to look away.

"Good girl," Jasper acknowledges, his cool touch burning through the fabric of your jeans. "Just keep your eyes on me."

His fingers continue their slow, tantalizing trek up your thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His gaze is electric, drawing you in despite your best efforts to maintain composure. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, but you refuse to break eye contact, stubbornly holding his molten stare.

"Jasper…" you breathe, unable to keep the quiver out of your voice. His lips curve into a knowing smile, fingers inching higher.

"That's it, darlin'," his voice is low and velvety smooth. "Just focus on me. Don't look away. It should be easy for you, right? You're a strong, dominant girl, after all."

The temptation to give in, to let your eyes slip shut, is nearly overwhelming. But you dig deep, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain the intense eye contact.

Jasper's hand reaches the waist of your jeans, his fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin just above. Your pulse quickens and a shiver runs down your spine.

"J-Jasper…" you stammer, grip tightening on the arms of your chair.

His eyes shine with a predatory gleam as he watches you. "C'mon, sugar. Just a little bit longer… You can do it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.

"Or you can look away, let me take these pants off." he adds with a self-satisfied smirk.

You know you're teetering on the edge, your resolve rapidly crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and his words.

The seconds stretch on, the tension in the room palpable. Jasper's fingers continue their torturously slow ascent, and you find yourself struggling to keep your focus on his eyes.

His fingers dance along the underwire of your bra, "And after that, I'll pull those panties off of you with my teeth; maybe dive right in and see if that pussy tastes as good as I think it does." Your eyes flutter shut as a white-hot spike of arousal shoots straight to your core. He pulls his hand away and when you reopen your eyes, you see a triumphant grin has spread across Jasper's face. "That's my girl." Your eyes widen as you realize - you've lost. Again.

"You've got two chances left. Still think you're going to win?" Jasper asks. "I'm sure you can do it. Right? You can turn it around. Round 4."

As you settle in for yet another round, he gets in another jab. "You're gonna break. You're going to and it's going to be really fast."

His hand returns to your thigh; this time it only takes a second for him to reach the hem of your panties, his fingers dancing along the elastic. You swallow harshly, but keep his gaze. "You're not even trying to fight it; you're just letting me touch you."

"You're gonna keep looking me in the eyes when I move your panties to the side and slide my fingers in, aren't you?" Your breath hitches. "No, don't lose yet. Come on, look at me. Don't look away, I don't want you to look away." It's hard to fight against the urge to hide your face but you manage. You can feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can only imagine the expression on your face.

"Good girl," Jasper murmurs. "Don't look away. Don't you dare look away." You start to squirm a little, clenching your thighs desperate for some friction. "Why are you turned on?" He teases, his fingers still threatening to dip under the thin fabric. "Is it because you're submissive and you like losing? There's fight and flight, but you... you freeze. And you're gonna let me take what I want."

He finally tugs your panties aside and dips two fingers into you. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you try to focus. You're so wet you swear you can feel it dripping down towards your ass. Fuck this is embarrassing but you realize you'd rather die than stop now; you want this. You want to just let go and let him take and take and take.

You crave his touch, crave to be used by him.

Jasper's fingers crook up into a spot that has stars dancing in your vision. Somehow you manage to just barely keep your eyes on him.

"C'mon, don't lose. I only have three pieces of clothing; you can still win this..." he taunts. "Don't look away, don't look away. Don't look away. Don't lose. Come on, look at me in my eyes. Good girl- don't look away."

"There it is..." He muses, pressing his fingers into your g spot as your back arches away from your chair and a debauched moan rips from your throat. "You lose again, darlin'." He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean your arousal off his fingers.

You let out a frustrated whine, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jasper's smug grin only infuriates you further - he's clearly enjoying this power he has over you.

"That's not fair," you pant, your body still tingling from his touch. "You're cheating."

Jasper chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he examines you hungrily. "Darlin', I don't need to cheat to make you submit to me. You want this just as badly as I do. Like I said earlier- we never agreed 'no touching'."

You can only glare half-heartedly at him, knowing he's right.

"Hey," Jasper ducks his head to catch your eyes as you look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "You got one more. It's the last round. You're still in this; you can still win. You've got to get at least one piece from me. you can't lose every time - that would just be pathetic..." You go to smack his arm, but he avoids it.

With a resigned and frustrated sigh, you unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor. "Let's get this over with already." you grumble. you want this to end partly to stop the embarrassment of losing this badly, but mainly because the sooner this is over, the sooner you can fuck him.

As the final round starts, Jasper reaches up to grab your chin, tilting your head up to barely brush his lips against yours. His eyes never leave yours as he asks, "Why don't you just look away on purpose so I can take these off and fuck you?"

His other hand reaches down to press his thumb against your clit, causing your eyes to shut as you let loose a shaky moan. "Oh- you lost..." The grin he gives you can only be described as devilish.

Faster than you can process, he is picking you up by the thighs and setting you on the table.

True to his word, he drops to his knees between your legs and. after pressing a few possessive kisses along your belly and the apex of your thighs, he takes your panties between his teeth and starts to slide them off of you.

You shudder with anticipation as Jasper's cool breath ghosts over your most intimate area. With painstaking slowness, he tugs your panties down, revealing your glistening cunt. His eyes never leave yours, molten gold boring into your very soul.

A playful smirk graces his perfect lips as he tosses the flimsy fabric aside. Calloused hands caress the soft skin of your inner thighs, urging them to part further. You comply willingly, heart racing in excitement.

Jasper hums appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt. Leaning in, he trails feather-light kisses along your dripping folds, teasing you mercilessly. Just when you think you can't take the anticipation any longer, his talented tongue darts out, parting your swollen lips and delving deep.

An involuntary moan escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. Jasper sets an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every twitch and tremble of your body. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he explores every inch of your most sensitive area. "Fuck, I knew you'd taste amazing..." His low groan vibrates against you and forces another small gasp to leave you.

Jasper's skilled tongue continues its agonizingly slow exploration, eliciting more breathless sighs and whimpers from you. His grip on your hips tightens as he senses your growing desperation for release.

With a low growl, he suddenly picks up the pace, licking and sucking with purpose. Your back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you feel the first tremors of your impending climax, Jasper pulls away, leaving you panting and aching. He gazes up at you with hooded eyes, a smug expression on his face.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I have other plans for you."

Jasper's hands grip your hips firmly as he effortlessly maneuvers your body, guiding you to bend over the sturdy table. A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden change in position.

With your upper body pressed against the cool surface, you feel impossibly exposed and vulnerable. The long-forgotten books and scattered papers crinkle under your weight as Jasper's powerful frame looms over you, his presence radiating a primal dominance.

A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trail along your spine, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. Leaning in close, he places a series of searing kisses along the back of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pulling back and undressing.

Trembling with anticipation, you arch your back, silently begging for more of his touch. Jasper growls low in his throat, the primal sound sending a shiver down your spine. His large palms slide up your sides, calloused fingers caressing the curve of your waist.

You whimper, desperate for him to finally fuck you.

Jasper chuckles, the deep rumble of his voice sending sparks of desire through your body. "So impatient," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar, I'm just getting started."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he slowly, teasingly, presses his body against yours. You can feel the hard lines of his muscles and you ache to have him inside you. His hands slide up your sides, caressing and exploring your body.

Finally, after what feels like ages, he lines his cock up with your sopping pussy and starts to press in.

You gasp, arching your back as the head of his cock teases your entrance. "Jasper!" You moan, shuddering with anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel every millimeter of his legnth as he fills you up, stretching and claiming you. His grip on your hips tightens, and you can feel the way his forearms bulging as he struggles to maintain control.

"Fuck," he growls, finally bottoming out inside you. He holds still for a moment, his lips pressing against your neck as he regains his breath.

Then, without warning, he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a force that takes your breath away. Over and over, he thrusts into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that is both primal and possessive.

You drop your head to the table, letting out a long, keening cry as you feel his cock hit your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Jasper!" You cry out, your voice echoing in the room.

His hands move to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples as he fucks into you harder and faster. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing moment.

"I knew you were a submissive little thing," he says between grunts. "We could've gotten here a lot quicker if you had just dropped the act earlier, darlin'." You can feel his shit eating grin against your shoulder.

"Really?" you gasp out, body sliding against the table with each thrust. "You want to argue about that now?"

His chuckle is low in your ear. "Just making a point, sugar." Jasper presses a kiss to the space just behind your ear before leaning back and fucking into you harder.

The rough wood of the table bites into your shoulders, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, claiming you.

"Jasper," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure and desperation. "I need… I need you to cum inside me." You beg, your back arching impossibly more as he reaches around to toy with your clit.

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again. "Almost there, doll," he says, his voice rough with lust. "Just wait for it."

You clench around him, trying to draw him deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but you're so, so close.

You feel your body tense and then release in a wave of pure pleasure. Your muscles clench around Jasper's cock, milking him as you experience your orgasm. A loud moan escapes your lips, and your hips buck against the table unconsciously. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your skin feels flushed with heat.

As your climax subsides, you feel a cool rush between your legs. Jasper's release. He groans deeply, his body shuddering against yours.

After a minute of him staying plastered to your back, keeping you bent over the table, you feel him slowly pull out of you, and you can't help but whimper in disappointment.

"Don't give me any of that, doll," Jasper gently chides. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. You wrap your legs around him, holding onto him tightly. The chill of his skin against your heated sex is comforting, soothing the ache.

He carries you to the couch, setting you down gently before standing up and pulling his boxers on and heading into the kitchen. While he's gone, you take the opportunity to catch your breath and compose yourself. When he returns, he has a damp cloth. He gently cleans between them, his touch soft and careful as he wipes up the remnants of your tryst. Neither of you speak as he cares for you, reveling in the comfortable silence that blankets the both of you.

Once your cleaned up, he helps you redress; he helps you pull your panties back on along with his shirt. He scoops you up into his arms again as he lays on the couch. As you curl against him once more, he kisses the top of your head. "There's my good girl," he whispers. "I've got you."

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key - Masterlist

💜Chapter One💜Chapter Two💜 Chapter Three

💜 Pairings: Choso x Fem reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Smutty, explicit sexual content, rough sex, idiots in love, friends to lovers, friends w/benefits BUT IT FAILS obviously. Choso isn't super submissive like most stories, but he is a sweetheart and a doll baby!! Cho has piercings and tats. Low key pleasure dom in the bed. Fluffy, cute, emotional, gonna be a long story, reader falls hard, Choso falls harder

💜 Word Count: 29k- ongoing

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea.

Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other? No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

Playlist:

💜Taglist open! Buy me a Coffee ☕️(KoFi) - Masterlist

Ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60140008/chapters/153460336

[hintsofhoney]

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously. 

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?” 

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him. 

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. 

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair. 

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent. 

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong. 

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —” 

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her. 

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt. 

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?” 

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her. 

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist. 

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time. 

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.” 

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.” 

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest. 

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers. 

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.” 

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true. 

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him. 

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. 

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out. 

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress. 

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there. 

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.” 

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.” 

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it. 

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Pregnant Pause | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your life was the epitome of a mess. You had just witnessed two of your friends get brutally murdered, your community was forced to serve an antagonistic group called the Saviours and your partner was taken by the same group, undoubtedly being tortured to try and force him into submission. It wasn’t the best moment of your life, and it definitely wasn’t the best time to start suspecting that you might be pregnant.

Genre: Angst to a little bit of fluff.

Era: Alexandria, Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, mentions of death, typical TWD warnings

Word count: 6.9k

A/n: I had so much fun writing this! To the person who requested this (they asked to remain anonymous), thank you so much. I really hope you like this and I really enjoyed swapping ideas with you for this fic.

—

Tears were streaming down your face with no sign of stopping anytime in the near future. In front of you, you could see the disfigured and maimed bodies of two members of your group, two of your friends. Glenn Rhee and Abraham Ford, brutally beat to death with a wired baseball bat. It was a fate that nobody deserved, especially not somebody as kind and pure as Glenn, or somebody as caring and courageous as Abraham. But they were gone, and with them, the remaining group member’s goodwill and hope.

Their deaths weren’t the only things that weighed on your shoulders. Negan, the leader of the so-called ‘Saviours’, had taken Daryl, your partner and love of your life, hostage. You had pleaded to them to let him go, but your pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and with one last tearful look at your archer, the doors to the truck had closed and taken off, taking a huge chunk of your heart with the retreating vehicle.

You could vaguely hear the sound of voices conversing and the shuffle of footsteps around you, but your attention remained fixated on the dirt beneath you. Your mind was racing at the speed of light at that moment, and yet simultaneously, you struggled to think of anything at all. It seemed that with your partner’s involuntary departure, your ability to function evaporated into thin air. You had no idea what to do.

You barely registered when Rick shook your shoulder, desperately trying to snap you out of your daze. “Y/N, look at me.”

You hesitantly looked up to meet the striking blue eyes of Rick Grimes, his eyes bloodshot from the tears he had shed earlier. He was tired, that much you could tell, and he seemed to be consumed by grief, the prior events to that moment taking an obvious toll on everyone, including your fearless leader.

“We have to go. It’s not safe here,” he whispered, gently urging you to stand. He was patient and caring, knowing full well that the events that had just transpired bore down into your soul. This would traumatize each and every one of the people present, of that much he was sure.

You remained silent, refusing to say anything until you’d had time to fully process everything. The remaining people in your group wordlessly split, Maggie and Sasha heading to the Hilltop and the rest of you heading towards the Alexandria safe zone. Aaron dutifully walked beside you, glancing over at you in concern every few seconds. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off before he could utter anything.

“Please, don’t,” you whispered weakly, furiously wiping at the tears in your eyes.

Aaron frowned. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, careful not to alert the others who were walking in front of you.

You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh. “No,” you admitted, pursing your lips. “I’m pretty sure none of us are.”

Aaron’s frown deepened, but he ultimately left it at that. The rest of the trek back to Alexandria was spent in a deathly silence, the only audible sounds being footsteps and animals scurrying around in the forest. When you all finally reached the safe zone, dread filled in your heart, because with the Saviours now fit to come knocking at the gates whenever they pleased, the safe zone would never truly be safe ever again.

—

Four days had passed. Four days since Glenn and Abraham had been brutally murdered in front of you. Four days since your partner had been taken hostage by the hostile group who claimed to be saviours. Four days since your world turned upside down.

The fellow survivors in the community had not taken well to the news of the Saviours’ deal with Alexandria, but you had expected that much. They weren’t there. They didn’t know what could happen if you rubbed the Saviours the wrong way, but you did, and they would figure it out soon enough.

You sighed as you laid on the bed in the basement you shared with Daryl, staring up at the ceiling with a frown on your features. For four days, you had tried to think of a solution to the problem at hand, but you had shot point-blank each time. And anytime you had even attempted to talk to Rick about retaliating, about fighting back, he had shut you down in an instant. You couldn’t blame him, however. You had witnessed the brutality that Negan possessed and didn’t wish to anger him again. You just wanted to find a way to get Daryl out of his clutches and back home, safe. You needed him there with you, especially if your suspicions about something proved to be correct.

For the last two weeks, you’d been way more tired than usual. Your body had grown accustomed to the short hours of sleep or no sleep at all, but now it seemed as if you couldn’t function even if you’d slept ten hours. You’d been getting nauseous quite frequently and although you had no way of keeping track between your periods, you were pretty sure it was late.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what those implications meant and what they were leaning towards, but the possibility of it being true scared you. You and Daryl were as careful as you could be, but there were times when you weren’t careful, when you were reckless, so the possibility of motherhood could be an impending thing.

You and Daryl hadn’t ever really discussed having kids before. The topic came up once or twice, but that was during the earlier stages of your relationship back at the prison when neither of you were ready for that kind of commitment just yet. And with the whirlwind of chaos that ensued, from the Governor’s wrath in Woodbury, to the Governor’s annihilation of the prison, to Terminus and then to the fall of Alexandria when the walkers infiltrated, the topic never got the chance to come up again.

And now the possibility of you being pregnant was high, and there was a chance that you’d have to raise the baby without their father.

You quickly shook your head to rid the thoughts from your mind. Groaning in frustration, you got up from the bed and headed up the stairs towards the kitchen. There you found Rosita, who was seated at the dining table, her features contorted into a frown while she was fiddling with a gun in her lap. She glanced up at you when she heard your footsteps and offered a silent nod of acknowledgement.

You gave her a nod back and headed towards the kitchen. You retrieved a glass from one of the cabinets and headed over to the sink, filling the glass with water. You leaned back against the kitchen island and slowly sipped at the water, your eyes trailed on one of little Judith’s drawings that were stuck to the fridge. It was a picture of stick figures meant to represent everyone in the group, and your heart sank when your eyes trailed over the figure meant to represent the archer.

“What’re you looking at?” Rosita asked, grabbing your attention.

“Just this picture that Judith drew of all of us,” you responded, half-heartedly motioning at the drawing stuck to the fridge.

Rosita walked over to you and positioned herself on your right, leaning back against the kitchen island as well. She smiled weakly at the drawing.

“Back when we were happy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, averting your eyes from the drawing to the woman next to you. “Now everything’s just gone to shit.”

“All thanks to that Negan puto,” she spat, her tone holding resentment and anger. Her anger was justified—she had witnessed Abraham getting beaten to death, and afterwards Negan had taunted her about it. He found what he did justified. You knew that Rosita wanted him dead, and you did, too.

“Yeah,” you replied with a heavy sigh, placing the empty glass down on the countertop. The two of you stood side by side in silence for a few moments, before Rosita broke the silence again.

“What’s up? It seems like something has you down.”

“Yeah. Daryl is being held hostage only god knows where and we have three days to find shit for those assholes or one of us dies,” you stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rosita sighed. “I know, but that wasn’t what I meant. It’s something else, I can tell.”

You fixated your gaze on the ground, suddenly finding the tiles more interesting than anything else. “No, I mean... I don’t know. It might be nothing, but...” You trailed off awkwardly.

Sensing your awkwardness, Rosita quickly tried to reassure you. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”

You shot her a grateful look and she gave you a small smile. You brought your hand up and lightly patted her on her shoulder before pushing away from the counter.

“Where are you going?” Rosita inquired, raising her eyebrows in question as she watched your retreating figure.

“I need some air.”

Without waiting for a reply from the woman, you closed the door behind you and leaned back against it momentarily, before pushing away and setting off towards the infirmary.

After a short walk, you arrived at the infirmary. After opening the door and seeing that nobody was inside, you breathed a sigh of relief. You wanted to get this done without anybody knowing. You didn’t want people kicking up a fuss when there were bigger problems at hand.

Moving towards the cabinet you knew held the object you were looking for, you could feel your heart racing. When you retrieved the small box with the test that could quite literally change your life, you felt overwhelmed. You never thought that a small box would intimidate you, but that particular one did.

Wanting to be extra sure of the results, you grabbed another test from the cabinet. Slipping both tests out of the boxes and into your waistband and letting your shirt fall over them to cover them from prying eyes, you quietly slipped from the infirmary before anyone could notice that you were there. You walked with a haste in your step back towards the house, but the sight that awaited you at the gates quickly drew your attention. You quickly made your way over, where you saw none other than Negan beyond the gates, taking out an approaching walker.

You walked up next to Rosita, who looked over at you, anger dancing in her eyes. You were sure that your eyes mirrored the same emotion.

“Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy!” Negan laughed. His eyes strayed to his right, and you could see Rick following his gaze. From your point of view, you could see surprise spread across his face.

“Alright, everybody. Let’s get started. Big day,” Negan started, talking to people who were out of your line of sight. “Hey, Rick. You see that? What I just did? That is some service! I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. Who is that guy, anyway? Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger’s dome in? Nope! I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could’ve killed one of y’all. Service.”

Your gaze strayed downwards when Negan locked eyes with you. He chuckled before walking through the gates, handing Rick his baseball bat. “Hold this.”

As Negan walked in, the rest of the people he brought with him followed behind their leader. However, you looked up when Rosita let out an almost inaudible gasp. You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with Daryl, and your heart both soared with relief and filled with dread. You were relieved that Negan hadn’t killed him, but you could see that he wasn’t being treated fairly, either. He was dirty and his face was cut and bruised, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes with his ‘uniform’.

You frowned, your eyes not straying from Daryl. Your partner kept his eyes locked on you until Negan spoke up again.

“Hot digidy dog!” Negan exclaimed, his eyes sweeping over the community. “This place is magnificent. An embarrassment of riches, as they say. Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up.”

You looked away from Negan and took a step towards Daryl, hoping to at least say something to him. “Daryl—”

“No. Nope. He’s the help. You don’t look at him, you don’t talk to him, and I don’t make Ricky here chop anythin’ off of him,” Negan cut you off, his eyes shifting to Rick.

When Rick averted his gaze, Negan turned to you, his eyes holding a certain malevolence as he gazed down at you. “Do I make myself clear, darlin’?”

“Yeah, you’ve made yourself transparent. I can see right through you,” you spat bitterly, refusing to meet his mocking gaze.

Negan chuckled wickedly. “Careful. We don’t want anythin’ to happen to your little lover boy over there.”

You slowly looked up at the man, your jaw clenched as you glared at him. A few beats of silence passed, until you broke the stare first, angrily walking away from him and back towards the house. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you willed them away, refusing to let them fall. You wouldn’t give that tyrant the satisfaction of your tears, no matter if he saw them or not.

When you reached the house, you practically flung the door open, storming into the house. Carl, who had been sitting at the dining room table, looked up at your sudden appearance and gave you a concerned look.

You mustered up—what you hoped was—a reassuring smile and sat down on the chair opposite him. He gave you a questioning look, silently asking what was wrong.

“Negan’s here,” you plainly stated, not missing the way his jaw tightly clenched in anger.

“He said a week. He’s early,” Carl grumbled furiously, curling his hands into fists.

“Yeah, but he’s here anyway. And he brought Daryl.”

Carl perked up at the mention of the archer’s name. “He’s here?” When you nodded, he continued. “Is he gonna stay?”

“I doubt it. Negan said that Daryl’s here as the help, so I’m pretty sure that Negan’s taking him back as soon as he’s done here.”

Carl's mood visibly deflated. He sighed and shook his head. “We can’t live like this. We should just kill Negan.”

You shook your head. “Believe me, I want Negan dead, too, but even if we kill him, one of his other goons will step up and take his place. We have to kill all of them, not just Negan.”

“I don’t know.”

“How? There’s too many of them.”

Carl shook his head before standing up, pushing the chair back. “I’m gonna go check on Judith. Make sure she’s alright.”

At the mention of the small child’s name, you suddenly remembered about the two tests that were stuck in your waistband. You got up, too, and nodded at the teenager. “Okay. I have to take care of something real quick.”

With a parting nod, you headed up the stairs and into the bathroom. Quietly locking the door behind you, you inhaled deeply, trying to ease the anxiety that had started to build. You took the two tests from your waistband and held it in front of you, knowing that the results that would show in a few minutes were going to change your life.

Shaking your head and inhaling deeply, you went over to the toilet, two tests in hand. You quickly did your business and placed the two tests on the countertop. You paced around in the bathroom, trying to work up the nerve to see what results awaited you. However, just as you were about to look at the potentially life altering results, a loud banging on the door startled you.

“Hey, hurry up in there! We don’t have all day to wait on you!” A voice you didn’t recognise bellowed from beyond the door, and you could only assume that it was one of Negan’s men. Sighing, you grabbed the tests without so much as peeking at them and slipped them back into the waistband of your jeans. You walked over to the door and opened it, coming face to face with a Saviour.

“What were you doing in there that took you so long, huh, pretty lady?” The man asked, eyeing you up and down with a primal intrigue.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the house. Startled, you sprinted towards where you heard the sound and saw Carl holding two Saviours at gunpoint, the Saviours in question holding crates with all of your medication.

You shivered in disgust, shooting him a glare. Without a word at the man, you walked off, needing to clear your head. The pregnancy tests in your waistband pressed against your skin and reminded you that you had to look at them, but you decided that would have to wait. You weren’t about to look at them around prying eyes.

“Put some back,” Carl started, pointing the gun at one of the men. “Or the next one goes in you.”

“Carl, what’s going on?” You questioned, moving to stand next to the teenager.

“They said that they were only taking half, but now they’re taking everything,” Carl explained, keeping his gun trained on the man in front of him.

The man simply laughed, wickedly smiling at the boy. ��Kid, what do you think happens next?”

“You die,” Carl stated matter-of-factly, death glaring the man.

You looked over at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Rick, his eyes meeting yours questioningly. You simply shrugged nonchalantly and put a gentle hand on Carl’s shoulder. He looked over at you and you gave him a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you advised, before leaving Rick to calm his son down. You passed by Negan, who shot you a teasing smile, but you ignored him, moving out onto the porch.

You leaned over the railing, observing the people quietly. You could vaguely hear the voices from inside, but you paid it no mind. After a couple of minutes of just standing there and attempting to calm your racing mind, you saw Aaron walking alone, a frown on his face. You walked down the porch stairs and hurried to catch up to him.

“Aaron, hey!” you called, stopping the man in his tracks. He turned around and saw you approaching, and he offered you a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“Let me guess, the Saviours are ransacking your house right now,” you asked with a heavy sigh.

“They took our mattresses. Why the hell would they need that? And our coffee tables? What could they possibly need those for?” Aaron asked, exasperated. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, his shoulders slumped to show his exhaustion.

“I think they’re just taking them because they can,” you started. “They’re trying to prove that what they say is law. They’re trying to prove that we have no say, that they can take whatever they want simply because.”

Aaron sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping even more. “I hate this.”

“Me too,” you agreed, nodding sagely, “but what can we possibly do about it now? We’re outnumbered and outgunned. We can’t take them on even if we wanted to.”

Aaron shook his head. Silently motioning for you to walk with him, the two of you set off, walking to nowhere in particular. “I’m glad to see that Daryl’s okay.”

You slightly flinched at the mention of the archer’s name, and flashes of his current state flooded your mind. He looked awful, not just from the filth on him but from the bruises as well. He was being tortured and you wanted to do nothing more than to kill Negan for making the love of your life suffer like that.

“Define ‘okay’,” you sighed, walking up to Aaron’s house with him.

“Alive,” he said simply. The two of you sat down on the porch steps, keeping your gazes ahead on the Saviours who bustled around the community, taking whatever they pleased.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it stays that way,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. However, you wiped them away in frustration.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving you a small smile. The two of you quietly sat side by side for a while, simply looking at the chaos of the afternoon. You’d catch glimpses of Daryl from time to time, and he’d shoot you nervous glances as well, before returning to whatever task he was meant to do. Your heart shattered at the thought of what Negan was doing to the love of your life. You silently vowed to yourself that you would find a way to get Daryl away from them, one way or another.

“Aaron, Y/N, meeting in Gabriel’s church in five,” Rick’s voice called, snapping you from your thoughts. He appeared at the bottom of the steps, his tone holding a frantic urgency.

“Rick? What’s wrong?” You inquired, getting up from the steps, Aaron following your lead.

“The Saviours, they’re takin’ all of our guns, but we’re two handguns short. They’re threatenin’ to kill Olivia if we don’t find them.”

“Who would have them?” Aaron asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Like I said, meeting in the church.”

“Nuh uh. Not so fast.”

You clenched your jaw at the voice that sounded behind you. Turning around, you came face to face with Dwight, his mouth upturned in a mocking grin. He was nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the house.

“The missus over here is gonna take me back to whatever hole she and Daryl calls home, and then she’s gonna give me his shit,” he stated, pushing away from the wall and walking over to you.

You stepped back, glaring angrily at the man. “You already have his crossbow and his vest. What else could you possibly want?”

“His bike, but Rosita’s already taking care of that,” Dwight said, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned back towards Rick and waved him off. “Go on, go find out where those guns are.”

Dwight moved forward and gripped your wrist tightly, wordlessly tugging you behind him. You exchanged a nervous glance with Aaron before turning your attention back to Dwight. You ripped your wrist from his grip and glared at him.

“Touch me again and I’ll fucking chop your fingers off one by one.”

Dwight chuckled and walked ahead, expecting you to follow him. When he realised that you remained still, he turned to you with a warning glare. “Just so you know, I’m basically Daryl’s primary caretaker at the moment. Your behaviour today can either persuade me to make his stay with us better, or make it so much worse. Your choice.”

You hesitated for another brief moment, before sighing and walking ahead. Dwight’s footsteps could be heard from behind you as you silently lead him back to the house, your jaw clenched in anger as you stared ahead.

After a short walk, you lead Dwight up the porch stairs and into the house. You opened the door and stepped inside, the man following closely behind you.

“This is your home?” Dwight questioned, slowly closing the door behind him as he looked about the house in slight awe.

“Mine, Daryl’s, Rick’s, Michonne’s. We all live here,” you confirmed in a bored tone, walking forward until you reached the door that lead down to the basement. “Our room’s down there.”

“You live in the basement?” Dwight asked dubiously, staring down the stairs in question.

“Daryl and I do. We wanted our own space away from everyone where we wouldn’t be bothered, hence why we chose the basement.

“Well, then,” Dwight started, lowering his upper body down in a mocking bow. “Lead the way, m’lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him and descended down the stairs. You opened the second door at the bottom of the stairs and pushed inside, the warm air of your shared space with the archer suddenly feeling overwhelming. You disregarded the feeling, focusing instead on the man that followed you down. The sooner you helped him, the sooner you would be rid of him.

You motioned over to the dresser that held most of Daryl’s things. “There. You’ll find it all there.”

“Daryl doesn’t own a lot of things that hold sentimental value to him,” you voiced and shrugged, sitting down on the bed as you watched the Saviour rummage through the dresser, carelessly tossing pieces of clothing over his shoulder. “Jesus, can you stop? He doesn’t have anything else you could want.”

Dwight raised his eyebrows. “All of it? In that one measly dresser?” When you nodded, he continued. “That can’t possibly be it.”

Huffing in frustration, Dwight turned around to face you. However, just as he was about to let out a string of crude remarks, he stopped, spotting something poking out of your waistband. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up, before I make you,” he threatened in a low tone.

You hesitantly stood up. However, you nearly stumbled back when he lunged at you. “What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed, trying to push him away.

Dwight simply ignored you. Before you could stop him, he pulled the two pregnancy tests from your waistband, taking a few steps away from you. He eyed the tests, and a look of surprise spread over his features.

“You’re pregnant?”

Time stopped. Your heart started pounding against your ribcage, and your eyes widened. You were pregnant. Both tests came back positive. Words completely eluded you as you simply stared at Dwight.

Dwight shook his head and threw one of the pregnancy tests back in your direction, and you hastily caught it. He quickly pocketed the other one. “Congratulations. I’ll be sure to tell Daryl the good news.”

Before you could deny or force him to hand it over, Dwight hurriedly left the room. You sank to your knees on the ground, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You felt helpless, completely and utterly helpless. Sobs wracked through your body as you clutched the pregnancy test in your hand, wishing more than ever that Daryl was there to comfort you, to reassure you that everything would be okay.

But with him being in Negan’s malicious clutches, you knew that wouldn’t be a reality anytime soon.

—

“Hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan told Rick, turning around to face him as you all walked towards the gates.

Roughly two hours later, the Saviours were done ransacking your homes and taking whatever they pleased. You had gotten your feelings under control and walked with your leader towards the gates, hoping above all else that you could persuade Negan into letting you at least give the archer a hug.

“Give me a second,” Rick replied, his eyes shifting between the hostile leader of the Saviours and the building beyond the gates.

Negan followed his gaze, before turning back to him. “No.”

“Please, can you just... Give me a second,” Rick pleaded, looking up at Negan, the height difference very noticeable when he did that.

Negan finally agreed, giving him a nod, a malicious smirk on his face. When Rick jogged over to the building, that left you in Negan’s sights, and the man let out a low chuckle.

“Well, darlin’. I see you’ve actually listened to me. No interactions with your loverboy whatsoever. I’m impressed,” he complimented, taking a step towards you.

Standing your ground, you simply glared up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sarcastic retort. That simply elicited another chuckle from the man.

“You know, there is a way the two of you could be together again. You could always come work for me. Be one of my soldiers, so to speak,” he began, eyeing you up and down. “Usually, I wouldn’t offer that straight away, but for a looker like yourself, I’d make an exception. Or you could make Daryl’s life a hell of a lot easier if you want. You could become one of my wives.”

Unable to resist the urge, you drew your hand back and slapped Negan across his face. Taken aback, he stumbled, but that grin of his soon returned. His eyes raked over your form hungrily. “Just so you know, I’m so much more attracted to you now.”

You could hear a scuffle behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted an angry looking Daryl being held in place by Dwight. The archer glared daggers in Negan’s direction, the urge to attack him evident on his face.

However, before anything could happen, Michonne came marching through the gates with a small deer hung over her shoulders, Rick hot on her tail. She wore a blank expression, refusing to meet Negan’s stare.

“Look at this!” Negan exclaimed, eyeing the deer on her shoulders.

“I thought she was scavengin’. She was huntin’,” Rick explained to Negan, handing him a gun. “This one never came inside.”

Negan took the gun and smirked. “Look at this. This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is reading the room and getting the message. I said it before, Imma say it again. You, sir, are special.”

Rick looked at you, sympathy clear in his eyes. “Now that you know we can follow your rules...”

“Yes?” Negan drawled.

“I’d like to ask you if Daryl could stay.”

“Not happening,” Negan refused instantly. However, he turned around to look at you, a smirk on his face. “You know what, just to make the missus happy, maybe he can stay. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me.”

Negan turned to Daryl. The archer remained quiet, his eyes shifting between you and Negan. It was evident that he wouldn’t beg to stay; Daryl’s pride would never allow him kneel to the likes of that tyrant. Although a part of you wanted Daryl to just drop his pride this once, you were proud of him. Despite what he was going through, he remained steadfast in his beliefs. He would never bow to Negan, no matter what pain it could inflict on him.

“Daryl?” Negan pressed, amused by the archer’s silence. When Daryl remained silent, Negan turned back to you. “Well, Rick tried. Sorry, darling.”

You looked down, missing the apologetic look Daryl sent your way. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl had wanted to do nothing more than beg Negan to leave him here with you, but he couldn’t. Not when Negan had threatened to hurt you if he tried to return to Alexandria. Not when his hostage situation could ensure your safety.

“Now what you gotta do, is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there,” Negan began, looking at Rick. “Earn for me, because we’re coming back soon. And when we do, you better have something interesting for us, or Lucille? She’s gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again. If you don’t have something interesting for us, somebody’s gonna die. And no more magic guns. Arat, grab that deer. It’s getting late. Let’s go home.”

Michonne angrily dropped the deer and turned around. You shot one final lingering glance at the archer, your partner and love of your life, before following suite. Michonne put her arm around your shoulder and together the two of you walked back to your shared home, ignoring Negan’s mocking laughter.

“Something’s wrong, I can tell,” she whispered quietly.

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t necessarily say something is wrong,” you denied. “I just really need Daryl more than ever right now.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “But not without Rick. I need his opinion too.”

—

“You’re pregnant?”

You physically winced at the incredulous sound of your leader’s voice. For the second time that day, someone had asked you that pivotal question, but this one finally made it register in your mind. You were pregnant. And Daryl wasn’t there to help you through it.

Michonne wrapped an arm around you, allowing you to lean into her side for support. She rubbed your arm, hoping to bring you some form of comfort under Rick’s disbelieving stare.

“Rick,” she scolded, sending her partner a pointed look, as if telling him to read the room.

“Sorry,” he apologized, shifting his attention back to you. “When did you find out?”

“Today,” you whispered, your voice hoarse all of a sudden. “Right after Dwight took me down to the basement to rummage through Daryl’s things. He saw the tests and took one. I think he’s gonna use it against Daryl. How could I let that happen?”

Michonne pulled you tighter against her side, allowing you to cry into her shoulder as she whispered reassuring words into your ear. “It’s not your fault. Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You hesitantly nodded against her shoulder, withdrawing from her hold and standing up. You began to pace the room, anxiously fiddling with your fingers.

“What should I do?”

“Go to the Hilltop,” Rick advised, effectively stopping your pacing. “They have a doctor there who can ensure that you and the baby are okay. And you’ll have Maggie and Sasha by your side. It’ll be safer for you there.”

“I can’t just leave,” you shut him down, shaking your head. “Negan is fit to come knocking at the gates whenever he pleases. We need more supplies, and soon. We need more people going out there.”

“Like hell I’m letting you out there,” Rick argued. “Daryl would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you or the baby, whether he knows about it now or not. The best thing you can do now for yourself and your baby is to go to the Hilltop. It’s safer and it’s relatively out of harm’s way. Please, if not for yourself, do it for Daryl. Do it for your baby.”

Sensing your hesitation, Michonne stood up, facing you head-on. “Rick’s right,” she began, capturing your undivided attention. “Go. We’ll be okay here. Your primary focus should be your wellbeing right now. Once things cool down around here, I’ll come get you myself. I promise.”

You remained quiet for a few moments, pondering over their words, before nodding. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll go.”

“We’ll have a car ready for you in the morning,” Rick responded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing. Daryl would’ve wanted this.”

“I know,” you sighed. “It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

The next morning came way too soon for your liking. Packed up and ready to go, you exchanged goodbyes with everyone. You were busy hugging Carl, the teenager clutching to your shirt tightly.

“Don’t die,” he told you when he pulled back from the hug.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you retorted, playfully pushing his hat down over his eyes, successfully coaxing a laugh from him.

After a few more exchanges, and another hug from Carl, you got into the car and drove off, heading towards the Hilltop Colony. The drive was spent in an anxious silence. You were wondering if you’d made the right choice, if leaving Alexandria for a while was really the best decision, but as your hand drifted to your abdomen that would soon grow, to the life that fluttered there, you knew that Rick and Michonne were right. Your primary focus should be your baby right now, and you’d be damned if you let anything happen to them.

After a while, the gates to the Hilltop came into view. You got out of the car as the gates opened, soon being engulfed in hugs by Sasha and Maggie. Jesus stood off to the side with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked, pulling back from the hug.

“It’s a lot to explain,” you said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Come inside. We’ll get you something to eat,” Jesus offered.

You smiled at him and nodded. “Sure. That sounds great.”

—

“That Gregory guy is such an asshole,” you spat angrily, sitting on the bench outside of Jesus’ trailer.

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Welcome to my world. We’ve been dealing with this prick for a week now and he still hasn’t gotten better.”

You shook your head, your hand absentmindedly rubbing over your stomach. A mere two days with the Hilltop’s leader breathing down your neck and you were just about ready to shoot him. He kept on sending crude remarks in your direction, voicing his obvious disdain that he had yet another Alexandrian he had to keep hidden from the Saviours. Thankfully, Jesus was there to put him in his place whenever you were the object of his distasteful glares, and since the day before, Enid as well.

Suddenly, shouts could be heard from the gates, before they were opened. You perked up at the rumble of a motorcycle, standing up to move closer and get a better view, instantly spotting the familiar glint of a familiar motorcycle coming to a halt, and an even more familiar man getting off of it. Your heart started pounding against your ribcage, and before anyone could stop you, you started running.

“Daryl!” you called, running as fast as your legs could carry you.

Daryl turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as he saw you, he started running as well, meeting you halfway. You practically flung yourself into Daryl’s arms, and he instantly reciprocated the hug, burying his face into your shoulder. You hugged him to you tightly, holding the back of his head as you tried to withhold the tears flooding in your eyes.

“C’mon,” Jesus urged gently, prompting you and Daryl to pull apart. “There’s a room in the Barrington house. You can use it to get cleaned up and changed into something else.”

Daryl hesitated, but you nodded. “It’s okay. I’ll be there with you.”

You took Daryl’s hand in your own and followed behind Jesus. The two of you were soon in the aforementioned room, Daryl sitting down on the bed while you cleaned up one of the cuts on his face. He remained silent, his eyes locked on your face. He lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, halting your movements.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, placing a hand over his one that rested on your cheek.

“M’jus’ remindin’ myself that this is real. That this ain’t some trick my mind s’playin’ on me. That this ain’t another dream.”

You gently took his hand and lead it to your heart, placing his hand over it to feel the steady beating of the vital organ. “I’m here,” you whispered. “You’re here. This isn’t a dream. It’s real.”

Daryl swallowed and nodded, before letting his hand trail down to your stomach. “Is... S’this real? Are ya pregnant?”

Your heart dropped. The only way he could know was if Dwight did what you suspected—he mentally tortured the love of your life with the knowledge that you could’ve been pregnant.

Your silence confirmed it for the archer. He sighed and swallowed heavily. “You are. You’re pregnant.”

You nodded slowly, guilt creeping up in you. “I am. Did Dwight tell you?”

“He showed me the test. Said it was yours, that he found it with ya that day we were at Alexandria. I didn’t wanna believe him at first, but the more I thought ‘bout it, the more I started believin’ him,” Daryl replied. “When did ya find out?”

“The first time Negan showed up with all of you,” you admitted. “Dwight took one of the tests from me before I could stop him. I’m so sorry. I should’ve tried harder. You were already going through so much shit with the Saviours, and then he had to go put more shit on you because of me.”

Daryl pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Don’ blame yourself. What do ya have to be sorry for? Findin’ out you’re pregnant?”

“For allowing him to take the test and use it against you.”

“You’re really pregnant?” he asked with a slight laugh, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

“Don’ be sorry. S’okay,” he whispered into your hair, stroking your back softly. Once you had calmed down, Daryl allowed one of his hands to travel back down to your stomach.

You laughed in wonder and nodded. “Yeah. There’s a tiny you in there.”

“Nah, they’re gon’ be a tiny you. Sweet, kind and a badass, jus’ like their mama,” Daryl countered, placing a kiss against your forehead. “Our baby. Our lil’ peanut.”

“You really wanna do this? Are you ready to start your own family?” you questioned, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“With you?” Daryl began, pulling you closer to him. “M’ready for anythin’.”

[madame-fear]

Hi i was wondering if you could write an nsfw head cannon of jacaerys and his wife reader and what their intimate life is like, and like talk about stuff they do.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : headcanons, smut + slight fluff. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : : jacaerys velaryon x wife!reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; p in v, unprotected sex, sex from behind, bootfucking, breast play, creampie, slight mentions of mirror sex, oral sex (both receiving), mentions of you riding him, praising, slight mentions of spanking.

: ̗̀➛ Okay, so, for starters. Your intimate life naturally came after you were both officially married, and the bedding ceremony came. To respect your privacy, the two of you already had a chamber of your own to share, and you would be able to be as intimate as you wished.

: ̗̀➛ Initially, Jace would’ve been very soft and delicate with you. It’s in his gentleman nature to be careful, especially with the woman who was now his wife, and he so adored. Things would’ve gone slowly, but surely. And perhaps, there would’ve been a bit of foreplay and kisses before starting anything.

: ̗̀➛ Jace would press sweet, teasing pecks all across your cheek, going down to your jawline, focusing on giving your neck attention with his kisses — especially in a particular spot of your neck where Jace notices it makes you squirm and gasp —, and goes to your collarbone, savouring your skin with each peck.

: ̗̀➛ All the while, of course, Jace’s hands softly move behind your back, playing with the laces of your nightgown as he leisurely unties them, letting your gown become loose from your body, and fall from your shoulders. Being the gentleman he is, of course, Jacaerys would constantly ask you if you’re feeling comfortable with what he’s doing, if you want him to stop, or keep going; all with the most sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.

: ̗̀➛ His coffee eyes would look up at you admiringly, just like a fascinated puppy. You don’t want him to stop any sooner — if anything, the way he teased your skin by pressing soft kisses and caressing it leisurely with the tip of your fingers, merely got you all wet and needy for him. To which, you gave him the green light to keep going.

: ̗̀➛ And my god, you didn’t regret it. The second you approved for him to keep pleasing you, his hands rather desperately pulled down your gown, low enough to just expose your breasts. His mouth immediately took your hardened nipple in a delicate manner, using his tongue to tease it very lightly, and his teeth nibbled on your sensitive skin to leave some lovemarks, using his hands to pinch, twist, and rub your nipples.

: ̗̀➛ Pretty little hushed whimpers & moans would continuously escape from your lips as your eyes flutter shut, and you throw your head back; feeling your cunt grow wet and needy. Each sound that spurred from that beautiful mouth of yours, simply made Jace grow harder for you, with an overwhelming need to fuck you right there, and make you shout loudly his name for everyone to hear who you belong to.

: ̗̀➛ And so he did. By the time Jacaerys had already feasted a bit too much on your delicate skin and sweet breasts, his mouth abruptly pulled away from your tits after some minutes, making you gasp, and his firm yet gentle hand pushed you onto your back against the mattress, getting on tip of you, and fucking you fervently throughout the entire night, cumming in and out of your body several times.

: ̗̀➛ After such lovely bedding night, getting lovingly yet roughly fucked by the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would’ve gotten more and more used to explore your intimacy together - whether it’s privately, or... Even publicly, being a bit more bold.

: ̗̀➛ Jacaerys absolutely adores having you all submissive & needy, as much as it pains him to hold himself back from taking you right there all for him. So, whenever he’s either studying, reading in High Valyrian, or simply reading a book - he will absolutely have you sitting on the floor, whining and begging for him to take you.

: ̗̀➛ You look beautifully endearing just like that, and Jace will tease you by making you sit on top of his boot, and rubbing your needy moist cunt, bootfucking you. Continous desperate whines would escape from you, begging for him to fully take you - but not just yet. Jace prefers having you clinging to his leg, and seeing how you rub yourself with the tip of his boot.

: ̗̀➛ Jace always knows exactly what you like, and what you need. And he keeps the perfect balance between roughness, and gentleness at the same time. Part of him loves treating you as if you were the petal of a rose, or made of glass - delicately and lovingly. And another part of him simply wants to fuck you like a whore, like you need and want to get fucked, rough and disgusting. This, however, doesn’t mean he will not respect the boundaries you’ve set for each other, and afterwards, he will always ask you if you’re okay, and feeling comfortable.

: ̗̀➛ Sex from behind happens often, and I dare to say it’s one of his favourite positions, after having you riding him. The feeling of you becoming weaker with every pound of cock buried deep inside your pussy, continously hitting your soft spot. Expect his hands to always firmly grip your waist violently in a possesively controlling manner... Or, perhaps, one of his hands gropping your breast while he plays with your stimulated nipples. That feels pretty good for both of you.

: ̗̀➛ And speaking about sex from behind! During this position, I can imagine he would like fucking you right in front of a mirror, making sure to change the speed in which he penetrates you just to see the different expressions in your beauteous features. His hand would hold your chin occasionally, forcing you to stare at yourself through the mirror being fucked by him, as he whispers just how much of a good girl you are, taking his cock so well and obediently.

: ̗̀➛ One of his many favourite things to do in bed, is having you go down on him, and him going down on you. The way your hand forms a fist around his throbbing cock, gently masturbating him as your lips press delicate smooches on his leaking tip, moving your mouth all the way down to his cock with small kisses until you decide to finally take him in your mouth makes him go absolutely feral for you.

: ̗̀➛ It would take Jacaerys all the efforts that he has to not grip harshly from your hair, pulling it back, and violently face fuck you until you’re deepthroating his shaft and maybe even gagging a bit. It hurts not doing so, but he prefers to treat you like the true future Queen you are. The way in which your tongue strokes his cock leisurely while you’re going down on him with your mouth provokes him to loudly groan, and chant your name under his breath. As expected, his semen spurs all over the inside of your mouth, your tongue, and the roof of your mouth.

: ̗̀➛ Or, if he’s feeling a bit too aroused, he will quickly pull out from your mouth at the feeling of his seed being released, and come all over your precious lips, chin, neck, and chest. The sight of his own cum dripping from your chin and neck, some sticky drops falling to your tits, is enough to make him feel proud of himself. You’re all his.

: ̗̀➛ And when Jace has to go down on you? Man, he for sure knows how to take your aching pussy. His hands would be harshly gripping your hips, as his plump lips press playful kisses all over your inner thighs, moving upwards until he meets with your wet core.

: ̗̀➛ There, he would sweetly place kisses all over your moist folds, working up until he meets your glistening clit. He would then carefully rub the rim of it, and slowly work his way in to meet your throbbing core. His tongue would flick against that sensitive spot, and then he would move his mouth back towards your entrance, where he would suckle at your slit, selfishly drinking from your dripping slick while he eagerly fingerfucks you.

: ̗̀➛ It’s just as if Jace knew exactly how you like to be treated; pampering each bit of your sensible core with such fervent adoration. Jace does it like nobody else does, and you can go down on him like nobody else as well. You’re the perfect match.

: ̗̀➛ The eldest Velaryon Prince would also absolutely adore having you riding him. Especially because you tease him by telling him that you’re finally learning on how to properly ride a true dragon... And because he likes the way your tits bounce when you’re on top of him. And, of course, the sight of the bruises Jace leaves on your hips after firmly holding you down on him is also a very pleasant one.

: ̗̀➛ Jace knows how to treat you when you’re such a good girl for him, so obedient — and he will be so gentle, loving, and adoring. But when you’re a bit feisty with him, thinking that you can misbehave around him, Jace will never doubt on having you laid all across his lap, harshly spanking your ass until your flesh is red and swollen, occasionally rubbing his palm across your aching cunt teasingly.

: ̗̀➛ And when you accept your punishment, his pulsating cock would fill you up so delightfully. Pounding violently in and out of you continously, making sure his cock hits deeply against your G spot just to have you shaking, whining, and whimpering under him. Seven Hells, the way you moan his name in that ruined state is so, so pretty. And Jacaerys would cum several times inside of you, to the point you would feel comfortingly and overwhelmingly warm, until his hot semen is oozing out of your abused pussy, dripping down your inner thighs.

: ̗̀➛ I think Jace would pretty much be up to anything. Want to be tied to the bed while he fucks you and you can’t do anything about it? Sure, he will do as you please. Want to be choked? Okay! Jace will be happy to oblige. Want to be tendered softly, and fucked with love and adoration as he praises you in between kisses? Say no more. Jacaerys absolutely adores you, and that’s an understatement.

: ̗̀➛ Your sex life will be pretty much open to anything, and of course, his only focus will be in making you feel satisfied, comfortable, and loved. Jace would never do anything to get hurt you or make you uncomfy. 💗

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[sundrop-writes]

The Way You Miss Me

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

I’m not trying to say I don’t wanna stay, I just know how this story ends.

Use my body against me - and all of our history.

I hate the way you miss me. 

Summary:

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn't need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled.

And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of crippling heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred's strength and determination.

So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he's the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 18,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full warnings list and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is equal parts angst fic and smut fic; the reader is a cis woman - uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; there is no mention of the reader's looks, race, hair colour, etc. in any way; this fic does use Y/N (and L/N as in Last Name); this takes place mostly during the beginning of Deathly Hallows, so there are mentions of dark topics, like death, and the cult-like following that Voldemort has developed; this is Exes to Lovers - Fred and the reader dated for a while during their time at Hogwarts and then broke up; (there is flashbacks in this fic to times during Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix); the reader is half-blood - she has one parent who is a muggle and lives in a muggle city and the other parent who is loyal to death eaters (and there is a later mention of the reader's mother being killed due to anti-muggle sentiment as Voldemort becomes more powerful); there is no mention of what Hogwarts house the reader is in; the reader has a crippling fear of heights (which is a large part of the plot for this fic); mentions of nausea and vomiting (as a fear response) (no one actually throws up during the course of the fic); the reader experiences actual life-threatening danger while on a broom - she nearly falls to her death, but Fred catches her; Fred does struggle to hold the reader's body weight, so it doesn't imply that he has super-human strength or that the reader is particularly petite (I wanted his reaction to be realistic for someone of any body weight); for part of the fic, Fred is disguised as Harry using Polyjuice Potion (but there's no confusion about his identity because the reader knows he took the potion); the reader experiences a panic attack due to the life threatening fall, and Fred helps her calm down; mentions of blood and semi-graphic descriptions of George's canon injury (his ear being blasted off); there is general emotional angst from the characters being in close proximity to danger, death, and life threatening situations; Fred calls the reader 'darling' and 'love' and 'sweets' and 'pretty girl' (in sexual and non-sexual contexts).

For the actual smut section: this is not their first time together as a couple and neither of the characters are meant to be virgins; there is undertones of sub/dom dynamics - Fred is a teasing soft dom and the reader is submissive to him (and there is mentions of the reader experiencing what could be considered subspace) (but there isn't any specifically laid out roles - it's more so one person enjoying taking care of the other, especially after experiencing the emotional turmoil of a near death experience together); there is Daddy kink in this (not until a bit later into the smut section, but it just came to me and I realized it suited Fred so well) Fred calls himself Daddy and the reader is way into it; praise kink - Fred calls the reader 'good girl' specifically because he knows she likes it; lots of dirty talk (Fred has a filthy mouth); oral sex - Fred receiving (she blows him as a thank you for saving her life) (also slight ball worship); mentions of the reader 'choking' on his cock (but there is no major breathplay or breath restriction); slight spit kink (it's a messy blowjob and he loves it); teasing and brief orgasm denial (toward both parties); hair pulling (toward both parties) - not with the intention of causing pain, but to direction someone's attention and to show appreciation and affection to the person; thigh riding - she humps herself on Fred's thigh while she is still wearing clothes; penis in vagina sex; creampie kink (I'm not gonna say breeding kink, because there's no mention of procreation or getting someone pregnant, even in theory, but they are both very turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her); this could be protected sex OR unprotected sex - he cums inside of her raw but we can all pretend that they used a magical pregnancy prevention method if you want even though it's not mentioned in the fic; cockwarming (reader doesn't let Fred pull out for a while after he cums); I think that is finally it for this fic.

A/N: This fic is titled after a song by All Time Low, which I highly recommend listening to paired with this fic. This is actually part of an idea I had for a much longer multi-chaptered Fred x Reader fic, but I kept thinking about this one moment in the fic and how much I wanted to write it - so I did. And I decided that it would make a good oneshot. And I am actually insanely proud of myself for managing to capture the same emotions in under 20k that I originally thought would take me like 50k or 100k to properly communicate. I think this is fantastic, and it's one of the best things I have written in a while - and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you like angsty, emotional, exes to lovers fics.

...

Very often, you wondered when life had become so complicated. 

It seemed that just yesterday, you were a bright-eyed young girl, dancing around a beautifully magical winter ball with the love of your life on your arm - and now, you were a confused woman who was terrified of how your life would end up because of a dark wizard and his cultist followers trying to overtake your world. 

These days you didn’t even have that lover to comfort you through all of the confusion and dread that clouded the world around you. 

You and Fred used to be perfect. That’s what a lot of people would have called the two of you - the ‘perfect’ couple. 

Your story was something straight from a romance novel - the two of you were best friends when you were young, and that friendship quickly blossomed into affection. That affection naturally led into a sweet romance. When you were with him, your life was full of moments where you felt like a beautiful, flowery, desirable protagonist because of how he treated you. Your life used to be full of laughter, full of smiles, full of romantic gestures. 

You and Fred were in the same year at Hogwarts, so naturally you knew each other. You weren’t really friends - at least not at first. You knew of each other, especially because you had some classes together. 

But you didn’t truly meet Fred Weasley until more than halfway into your first year of classes together. You had the misfortune of accidentally running into a prank that was meant for a Slytherin Prefect - someone who had taken one too many house points off Gryffindor for the twins’ liking. And after being doused with red and gold paint and tripping over a toy rubber snake that had been charmed to hiss realistically when you got near it - you were reasonably frightened and crying, and it left you the laughing stalk of the courtyard - someone to be pointed at and mocked by everyone. 

Fred hadn’t meant for it to be you. With the way he looked at you after the incident - full of guilt while everyone else pointed at you and laughed, imitating your frightening screams and attempts to jump away from the fake snake - it didn’t take you long to figure out the culprits behind it. And it didn’t take you much longer after that to plan your revenge. (Especially because, as much as Fred looked guilty, he didn’t simply come forward and apologise. Too afraid to look like a weak moron in the eyes of his brother and his other Gryffindor friends. So - on with your revenge, it was.) 

You figured that all good pranksters should be due to be a victim sometimes, too. If the twins couldn’t laugh when they were on the receiving end, then they should stop playing pranks. 

So you came up with something that you considered masterful. During your trip home for Christmas, back to Muggle London where your mother lived, you asked her to take you to a shop to buy a couple of greeting cards for your classmates. The ones that sing Christmas carols loudly when the hinge of the card is opened. Something clever, and not needing any magic at all. 

And when you returned to Hogwarts after the break, you found a moment where the twins were distracted, and you stole their book bags in order to pull off your epic, amazing prank. You taped those singing greeters into the back of their Potions textbooks - a class that you shared with them, of course, so that you could enjoy the show. And then you waited. 

You had trouble containing your laughter when Professor Snape escalated from annoyed to downright scalding angry as his class was filled with the quiet robotic hum of ‘Jingle Bells’, occasionally overlapped by ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. It was made even better by the fact that both of the twins clearly knew that the music was coming from somewhere in their surrounding area, but they had no clue what the exact source was or how to stop it. And with every snivelled demand of ‘just open your books and get to work’ - the music only started up again. 

By the time they had been sentenced to detention for disturbing the class, you were nearly breathless and your ribs were aching from trying to hold back your laughter. Which, of course, meant that Fred easily spotted you out of everyone else - who looked equally confused or annoyed with the low hum of the music. And as soon as the class ended, he brought his textbook to you, thanked you for the worthy prank, and asked you how to stop it. He looked entirely amused and impressed when you pulled the tiny device out of the back, and proceeded to ask you a million questions about it. 

You weren’t surprised when the next week, the annoying singing greeter ended up inside the teacher’s copy of the textbook on McGonagall’s desk. 

From that moment on, his crush on you steeped inside of him like a fine tea, developing from an innocent adolescent attraction to full-blown, ‘drive you crazy’, ‘I would do anything for you’, love. It was lucky for him that you easily felt the same way. 

Through the years of being by his side, becoming his best friend, pulling pranks together and trying desperately to get him to study - it was difficult not to fall for Fred Weasley. 

You had been overjoyed when Fred invited you to the Quidditch World Cup. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of Quidditch (and Fred knew that). The only reason you had started attending the games at Hogwarts was because he joined the team. And you only bothered to attend the games he played in, so your bias could be spotted from a mile away. But in his letter, with the ticket to the World Cup slotted into the envelope, he told you that it was ‘the game of the century’ and you ‘simply couldn’t miss it’. 

You wouldn’t miss out on spending time with him, so you eagerly agreed to go. 

This left you with only one glaring problem. 

You had a crippling fear of heights. 

It was one of the reasons that you never really gotten into Quidditch in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in playing, and even less interest in watching if Fred wasn’t involved. The idea of even flying on a broom being something that made you nauseated and shaky just from thinking about it. 

The mandatory first year flying lesson was the only class at Hogwarts that you ever failed, but Madame Hooch took pity on you when she saw you crying and fisting the grass after only getting your broom about five inches off the ground. So she passed you anyway - just barely. 

When you set out to watch Fred’s games at Hogwarts, you usually had to take some kind of anti-nausea tonic beforehand to make sure that you didn’t puke all over everyone else in the stands. And you usually couldn’t even make it up to your seat to watch unless one of your good friends held your hand. But you were alright once the actual game started, because watching Fred doing something he loved was a good distraction from just how high up you were. 

Telling Fred about your intense fear had been one of the most honest, vulnerable moments that you ever had with him. Your friendship was usually all pranks and laughter, which you loved. 

But one summer day, when you were hanging out with the Weasleys, they wouldn’t stop nagging you to join one of their family Quidditch matches because they needed an extra player to make the teams even. And after the twins’ endless teasing, saying that you were ‘afraid to lose’ or that you would be ‘too distracted by their daring good looks’ in order to play properly, you broke down crying and stormed off into the woods, because you were too anxious to admit the real reason that you couldn’t play.  

Fred was the one who found you off in the trees behind the Burrow, tears still streaming down your face, and asked you what he had done to so greatly upset you. He had been terrified at the idea of making you upset, so hurt that he had been the one to make you cry. And after he found out about your fear, he didn’t laugh or mock you for it or play it off as something stupid like you thought would be so typical of him. No - instead, he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and he told you that he was genuinely sorry. And he promised that he would never invite you to play Quidditch again. 

When you had accepted the invitation to The World Cup, you had forgotten how much your fear of heights played into watching Quidditch as well. The giant, impossibly tall temporary Quidditch stadium that had been set up for the event had been looming over you all day, but you didn’t want to quit and go home because of some silly little fear. 

You wanted to spend the time with your friends. You wanted to enjoy the event because the people you loved most were having fun there. So you pressed on, ignoring the inevitable, letting yourself get caught up in the pregame revelry. You walked around the seemingly endless campgrounds with Fred and George, in awe of all the decorations and the different wizards from all over the world, showing off things from their homes. You chatted and charmed along with them as they collected bets before the game. You let Fred paint your face with large, ugly shamrocks because even though you didn’t entirely care about the teams or fully know them, you were rooting for Ireland to win simply because he was. 

But the unavoidable nature of your problem became very apparent as Arthur guided everyone to your seats, and you climbed up more stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs - and the higher up you got, the more you found yourself shaking, especially when you looked down to the ground and saw that the people down there looked like little more than bugs. You hated it when your mind, naturally, went to what would happen to you if you stumbled over the railing and fell down all that way. You would splat on the ground, squashed like a bug. You would die within seconds. 

You held on tighter to Fred’s hand - he would have said that he had grabbed your hand in the first place so that he wouldn’t lose you among the bustling crowd, and not simply as an excuse to be closer to you. You didn’t even realise how badly you were trembling in his touch as you looked over the railing (still a few flights down from your final seats) with intense apprehension. 

“You alright?” Fred asked you simply. 

“‘m fine.” You mumbled out the lie, giving him a large, forced smile - hoping that he would believe it. 

You knew that if you told him how you were feeling, he would insist on escorting you back to the tent. Perhaps he would even insist on staying with you so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. So he might miss out on a once in a lifetime Quidditch game all because you had a bit of petty anxiety from being so high up. 

So you tried your best to push down all your feelings and ignore them, even if it was making you shake and making your stomach churn. When you got to the top, peering over the edge of the railing of the very, very high up seats that Arthur had gotten as a thanks for his work on helping to organise the whole thing (apparently, the higher up the better to actually see the game), you felt an incredible sense of dizziness, and began swaying on your feet. 

This was so much higher up than the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. 

Naturally, Fred noticed. It wasn’t something he would easily admit, or even something he did consciously, but he always kept an eye on you. Partially due to a knack for admiring your beauty, that adolescent love-struck feeling always making him more prone to staring at you. But it was also partially due to the fact that he felt a need to watch over you. Whether it be as a friend or as something else, he always wanted you to be safe, and happy. 

And right now, your sickly, terrified face stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of excited, cheering fans.  

“Y/N,” 

He called out your name in a serious tone that was so uncharacteristic of Fred, something that snapped your attention from staring anxiously at the ground toward him immediately. He cemented your attention on him when he put a hand on top of your tight, tense knuckles on the railing. His touch was warm, as always, and oddly grounding, removing even just a slight bit of that dizzying anxiety that you were feeling. 

“Do you wanna go back down? I can bring you back to the tent,” 

Of course. Just as you had predicted. 

“No.” You easily answered, shaking your head furiously, biting your lip. “I-” 

You didn’t want him missing out on such an important event because of you, but more importantly: 

“I - I don’t want to be afraid.” You heaved out, your chest tight with anxiety. “It’s stupid - people do stuff like this all the time, right? I shouldn’t be afraid-” 

“It’s not stupid.” He said firmly, quickly squashing down any self-belittling that you might be tempted to do. “You can’t control how you feel.” 

Coming from him, it sounded like the most firm truth ever. 

“If you want to stay, I’ll be right here with you.” Fred added on, giving you a warm, reassuring grin. “But just let me know if you want to go back down, and I’ll walk with you, alright?” 

You nodded, hating that even though his words gave you that nip of courage you needed, you were still pulsing with a dull panic. The undeniable reaction that fear caused in your body. 

Fred hated seeing you shaking, hated the deep frown that cut through your beautiful features - so what he did next was instinctive. He took his hand off yours and reached that arm, the one closest to you, around your back, planting his hand firmly on the railing at the other side of your waist. This trapped you in a close-knit hold beside him, something that made you feel instantly more secure - even if it was just from the warmth of him at your side. 

“I’m not gonna let you fall, yeah?” He said quietly, leaning closer into your ear to be heard - the warmth of the reassurance causing gentle tingles down your spine. “I would never let anything happen to you, darling.” 

Between the intense loving safety that he words wrapped you in with the sweet nickname he added on, and the firm cradle of his arm around your back, you knew that you would have no problem sticking it out for the game. But your brain was still trying to cope, your anxiety so incredibly nagging, and you couldn’t help it when your eyes drifted back to focus on the ant-like people on the ground, becoming shaking and nauseous all too soon from staring downward. 

“Down look down.” Fred scolded you gently, using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing your gaze back up - it ended with your eyes locked with his, admiring the way the breeze blew his too-long ginger hair into his eyes. “Just look at me, alright? It’s gonna be far worse if you keep starin’ down there. Just look at me, love.” 

“Just look at you.” You repeated in a quiet mumble, already so utterly locked in the powerful orbit of his gaze, feeling like it was near impossible to look away from him. 

You felt his forehead brush against yours before you realised just how close he had gotten. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. 

And ultimately, feeling the stands shaking beneath your feet as a particularly hard gust of wind came through and having another swell of anxiety rush through you was what drove you to closing the gap, sealing your lips on his in your first kiss. Fred made you brave, almost stupidly so, and you hoped that you had finally used that bravery for something good in capturing his lips. (Rather than the stupid mischief that the two of you usually got up to.) 

Fred smiled into the kiss and George cheered loudly behind him - you thought it was due to the game starting, and when you pulled back sharply to look around for the players, you were met with nearly all eyes in the group on you, clearly gawking at the fact that you and Fred had kissed. 

This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said: 

“Finally. I thought the two of you were never gonna get on with it.” 

This left you squirming with a mild embarrassment, and definitely not thinking about how high up you were anymore. 

Looking back, the memory was painful - not sweet or fond as it had once been to you. 

But it wasn’t nearly as painful as the memory of the day you and Fred had broken up. 

He had asked you to be his girlfriend officially only a few days after the World Cup. He wanted you to know what that kiss meant to him, and he wanted the privilege of more kisses from you, on top of the ‘honour’ (his exact wording) of going back to Hogwarts with you on his arm as his girlfriend, making all the other boys in your year ‘pathetically jealous’. Of course, it was everything you wanted, he was everything you wanted, so you said yes. 

The two of you dated for nearly two full happy years - right through your sixth year and into your seventh, until in April of your seventh year, shortly after Fred’s birthday, when everything came crashing down around you. 

It wasn’t unusual of Fred to pull you away after a class - his hand in yours, igniting fluttery giggles from your lungs as he pulled you down the corridors to whatever secret little spot he had picked out. Even with Umbridge at Hogwarts, implementing more rules and cracking down on ‘fraternisation’ between students, you and Fred still found ways to sneak off to have your private little moments together. 

So when Fred took you off to one of those private corners on chilly spring afternoon, you assumed that this was no different. You fell into the natural rhythm of pinning him against a wall, sealing your lips firmly to his in a kiss and waiting for his hand to sneak up your skirt while his tongue ventured into your mouth. You were shocked when this time, he didn’t kiss you back. He was limp and unreceptive against you, and that was when you realised that you had read the tone of the interaction very wrong - even if him dragging you away by the hand always led to making out in a quiet corner, and more than a bit of groping. 

You pulled back, looking at him with confusion and disappointment plainly across your face. 

“What’s wrong, Freddie?” You asked, well in the habit of using the nickname for him. 

Fred’s expression was filled with sullen dread, and it made your stomach twist. It truly made you fearful of whatever he was going to say next, and you took a step back from him, widening the gap between the two of you in the dusty, draughty old stairwell. You suddenly felt too cold, even with your uniform sweater and thick robes on, and wrapped your arms around yourself to compensate. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He announced quietly, continuing to lean on the wall that you had pressed him up against, staring at the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet you. 

What? Had he cheated on you? Did he want to break up? 

What terrible thing could possibly make this bright, funny joker so damn sad and serious? 

“What is it?” You asked, filling with dread, your throat tightening up more by the second. 

“George and I have decided that it’s about time we take our leave.” Fred announced, his eyes only flickering to you for a moment, looking for some kind of reaction. You were only further confused, and waited for him to explain. “The lease for the shop in Diagon Alley finally came through, and-” 

“Well that’s great news, Fred.” You said, trying to sound happy and upbeat beyond the tension that was still tight in your chest. You had no clue why he was so downtrodden - the joke shop was his dream, and now that they had secured a location for it, that dream was coming true. 

He heaved a sigh, his eyes turning to gaze out a nearby window for a moment before he turned back to you. 

“It means we have to leave, darling.” He said sharply. 

Your insides became heavy. 

You knew it was a very Fred and George thing - so intent on not doing their exams, desperate to escape any further academics. You wanted to ask why they wouldn’t stay until the end of the school year, but you knew that you would get answers about how they didn’t need marks from exams that they were likely going to fail anyway to run a shop that they now owned. 

It was something founded on their own talents and ideas, and they didn’t need the approval of professors marking them wrong or right in order to do it. 

It was the life they had always dreamed of. And you were intensely proud of them for it. 

So why did you still have that overwhelming feeling of dread? 

“So - when are we leaving?” You asked, trying to sound confident and firm in your words even though you knew what was likely coming next. 

You felt intensely disappointed when the all too predictable outcome smashed you in the face. 

“You’re not coming with us.” Fred said quietly. 

“Why not?” You argued gently. 

You would drop everything and go with them - you felt far more emotional attachment to being with Fred than you did to finishing your year at Hogwarts. You knew that you could be a useful hand around the shop. Any venture helping Fred would be a worthy one to you. But staring you down were the calculating eyes of someone who had been telling you over the past years how much he didn’t want to disrupt your studies with his antics, because he thought you had a ‘brilliant mind’, and you were ‘so much smarter’ than him and George. 

He thought that you could actually pull some decent - no, brilliant grades on your NEWTs and truly make something of yourself. The shop was a big dream of his and George’s, but Fred knew that you were destined for something so much greater that truly challenged and fully utilised your brilliance. So he wasn’t going to let you be dragged down to mediocrity by him. 

Realising this, part of you still ached. Why was he so intent on leaving if it meant leaving you behind? 

“Please don’t be stupid-” Fred sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, so I’m stupid now?” You scoffed. 

He hadn’t meant to let the harsh word leave his lips - at least, he hadn’t meant it in such a harsh way. 

“Y/N-” Fred used your actual name, something he rarely did, but you barreled right over whatever he was going to say with your next words. 

You were hurting now, and you didn’t entirely care what he had to say. 

“If I’m so stupid, then why should I even bother to stay here and take my NEWTs?” You hissed, twisting around his accidental slip into something he had never meant. “Or am I too stupid to even work at a silly little joke shop with you?” 

Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him. 

“Y/N, this ‘silly little joke shop’ has been my dream since I was five years old!” He barked, now taking your heat of the moment words and running away with them. “You don’t-” 

“I guess I was stupid enough to believe that I was part of that dream!” You cried out in return, cutting off his words once again. 

‘You are.’ He choked down the words. ‘But I can’t bear to bring you down just because I want to be with you. I could never be so selfish.’ 

“I-” He choked on whatever he was going to say, swallowing it down. “I can’t do this right now.” 

He moved to storm off completely, hoping to speak with you later when you both had calmed down, hoping to have a proper, happy goodbye with you before he and George actually left. 

But your next words made him freeze on the spot, and wiped away all of those hopes within him. 

“Fred Weasley, if you walk away, we’re done.” You said, now choking on tears. 

You were utterly insulted that he wouldn’t even fight for you - that he wouldn’t even promise that his heart would be waiting for you after you graduated. To you, it was a sure sign that he was saying that his shop was more important to him than you were. That you were just some stupid schoolgirl fling to him; that along with the shop, he wanted to move on to other women, to find someone that he actually wanted to marry. 

You had never been a part of the dream he had for his life - you had just been a passing fancy in his eye. 

For Fred, it was all too painful. This was the conversation he had been utterly dreading since he and George had decided to take their leave, and it was going far worse than he had planned in his head. He couldn’t face the pain - he couldn’t face hurting you. He couldn’t face missing you, even during a few short months apart before you did graduate. 

So he then did something so terribly stupid, looking to bomb the relationship wide open - hoping to end all of the pain before it even started. 

“Good.” He said, barely turning his head to even look over his shoulder at you. “Would’ve been a waste of parchment writing to you, anyway.” 

With those final, painful words, he stomped off down the stairs, leaving you to collapse against one of the nearby walls in a puddle of tears - for the first time in a long time, without Fred to muffle your sobs in a comforting hug. 

You hadn’t been there to watch him and George ride off on their brooms when they finally gave Umbridge everything she deserved - you had been locked in your dorm, sobbing into your pillow because of that horrible, relationship ending fight. You had only heard from other people later that they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and you were the only person who knew for certain where they had gone and what their plans were now. 

You hated to admit it - but you missed Fred Weasley. 

You tried your hardest to get over him. You threw yourself into your studies, and you did pass your NEWTs with some of the highest marks in your class. But then, any thought of what potential career you might take on was tossed aside when the world went into upheaval at the hands of Death Eaters. And unintentionally, you were right back at Fred’s side again. 

It was a dreadful thing - being forced to see your ex on such a frequent basis. 

The last time being just a few short days ago when he had come into the Apothecary that you worked at in Diagon Alley, looking for some ingredients for a new WWW product that he wanted to make a test batch of. You had still spent last Christmas with his family, at the nagging insistence of Molly. After your mother had turned up dead and your father was missing, and you had to face the fact that he had likely defected to the Death Eaters out of fear (and the stupidity of his ingrained ‘old ways’), you didn’t really have any other family to turn to, aside from the Weasleys. 

You saw Fred a lot more often than you should - more often than you wanted to, in fact. Because the more often you had to see him walk into your shop with a grin on his face and bear the small talk he would force you into before he finally put in his order, the more you ached. You wanted nothing more than to be able to get away - to go someplace far away that Fred would never find you, so that you could finally heal, could finally get over the way he had broken your heart. 

But the country, and likely the state of all Wizardkind, was in upheaval. So many lives were at risk, and you had your part to play. You had signed on to become a member of the Order the minute you turned seventeen, and you weren’t prepared to shirk that commitment now, just because of a bit of girlish heartbreak. 

It was the reason that you were standing in the now empty residence of Number Four, Privet Drive. You had been called upon last minute to replace Tonks on this particular mission, for reasons that everyone seemed tight lipped about. But you weren’t going to question it - you were just going to step up and do your duty so that Harry could be transported safely, and hopefully go on to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. 

According to Mad-Eye Moody, it was all very straight forward. Six of the fourteen members of the group would take Polyjuice Potion to turn themselves into decoy versions of Harry, making for seven Harrys in total, and the other half of the group would pair off with a Harry each to be their escort. 

You weren’t a huge fan of the idea of Fred disguising himself as Harry, essentially putting a huge target on his back - but the plan had already been set in place. He had already agreed to it. There was no room for you to protest now. 

“We’re not a big fan of the idea either, mate.” George spoke up when Harry protested against the idea of people risking their lives by being disguised as him. 

“Yeah, imagine something went wrong, then we’d be stuck as a scrawny, specky git forever.” Fred added on with his usual humorous tone. 

You held back a laugh at this comment, and everyone in the room eyed you harshly as you choked on your own breath. Fred smirked, proud that after all this time, he could still draw a laugh out of you. 

Your sense of humour about the whole situation was soon stamped out when Mad-Eye mentioned brooms. The group would have to be flying because Harry couldn’t apparate or use any other common form of transport without the Ministry knowing. 

“Brooms?” You questioned, knowing that your tone sounded far too panicked. “We - we’re flying?” 

“Yes.” Mad-Eye snipped curtly in return. “What exactly about my explanation was unclear, Ms. L/N?” 

His sharp tone and his glare in your direction, along with his use of your surname, instantly transported you back you Defense Against the Darks Arts classes in your sixth year, when you had been intimidated by the man - even if, strangely enough, you hadn’t been taught by the same man who now stood before you. 

You swallowed tightly, a large lump forming in your throat already - an involuntary, wicked reaction overtaking your body because of your fear of heights. Fred looked at you with sad knowing in his eyes, and you didn’t notice when he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, resisting the urge to swaddle you in a comforting hold. 

“Nothing was unclear, just-” You stuttered, breathing in deeply, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t have much experience with flying, and-” 

“Weasley - er - Fred, has already informed me of that.” Mad-Eye said, correcting himself when he realised just how many ‘Weasleys’ were on this mission and how utterly confusing that would get. “He’s insisted on taking you due to your lack of experience. Is that all?” 

Obviously, you didn’t want to publicly admit to your fear. You couldn’t reveal it as the terrible weakness that it was, especially not when there were so many other worries at play. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” You said, nodding, trying to keep the conversation short and keep the attention off you. 

“Good. Now if we’re all done dawdling, we need to get to work.” 

It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry. 

Even complete with the dorky clothes and the glasses, you still easily spotted him out of the crowd of ‘specky gits’. Maybe it was the years of practice that you had telling him apart from George that made it so easy for you, but he was still so irritably Fred. The fact that he slid his wand into his back pocket - something you had warned him dozens of times would likely result in the wand crunching in half and breaking when he sat down (and annoyed you to the point of you snatching it out of his back pocket to save it, especially before he sat down). The way he reached up to scratch his nose, the smirk on his face when he kept glancing over at the other Harry you were sure had to be George. Especially with the way they were steadily side-eyeing each other, speaking volumes with their looks and having a silent conversation that nobody else knew of. 

The fact that his eyes kept flickering to you every few moments definitely helped you to pick him out of the crowd. Even though you were used to a gentle hazel gazing at you rather than that piercing blue, there was still a unique concern behind his eyes when he looked at you from beyond those spectacles - the same kind of gentle seriousness that you hadn’t really seen from him since he had held your shaking hand on the stairs of the stands on the day of The World Cup. 

Stupidly, it only really occurred to you how close you would have to be with Fred, tightly riding behind him on the back of his broom, when you went outside and he ushered you to climb onto the back of his broom behind him. It had been a little over a year since you had broken up with Fred, and since then, you had not touched him. 

Every greeting had been friendly, but from a distance. Even when he came into the Apothecary and laid his hand on the counter, you snaked out of the way in time to avoid his fingers so much as brushing by yours. You always laid his order on the counter for him to pick it up himself, so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush against yours. You made sure never to have contact with him. And now, you were being forced to climb onto the back of his broom, to hold him tight. 

But you couldn’t protest. You couldn’t demand to switch partners now because of some petty angst you were harbouring about a break-up that had happened so long ago. (Would you call it angst, or stupid, longing, painful heartbreak?) You couldn’t complain - not when this was about transporting Harry safely. This was about something so much bigger. 

Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as holding onto your Fred (not that he was yours anymore - you had to remember that). He was Harry-Fred right now, so he was much shorter and thinner, and you could easily pretend that he wasn’t Fred at all. Which is what you forced yourself to think about as you swung a shaking leg over the broom and climbed on, wrapping your arms around his waist, preparing for take-off. 

It was a bit harder to pretend that this wasn’t Fred when you caught the faintest whiff of his expensive cologne (something he had only started wearing once the shop took off, something you noticed on him for the first time when he came to visit you at the Apothecary). It was definitely still lingering on his skin, something that was so painfully Fred even while you stared at the back of Harry’s wild black hair. 

It pierced your heart a little bit more when he peered over his shoulder at you, striking you as so Fred with those somehow warm, caring blue eyes and gently asking: 

“Good?” 

To which you replied: 

“m fine.” 

The most terrible lie you had ever conjured - something that was soon covered up by Mad-Eye shouting some last minute instructions and waving everyone off. 

When Fred kicked off the ground, you were immediately met with the most sickening wave of nausea that you had ever experienced in your life. You got way too high up for your liking within seconds, the houses on the ground growing far too small in your view, and you couldn’t fight the urge to shut your eyes. 

Unfortunately, it only made you dizzier, but it calmed your nerves a slight bit. You didn’t even realise how tightly you were clutching onto Fred, an utter death grip around his waist, until you heard him let out a grunt of pain from his stomach muscles being strangled by your arms with your fingers digging into him like claws, holding on for dear life. 

“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, shivering from the pure fear of it all, rather than the cool breeze that was whipping at your face. “Sorry, sorry!” 

“I’m sorry!” Fred replied - it was still strange hearing him speak in Harry’s voice, and you were glad that it was temporary. “I should have told them you weren’t up to this mission, I-” 

“I’m fine!” You barked back, hating the idea that your fear would make you unfit for a mission. But in a sense, you knew it was true. You would have spit in the face of any Death Eater, but your fear of heights was so utterly crippling. “Fred, don’t you dare for a moment suggest-” 

“We’ve been breached!” You heard someone - Arthur’s voice, shouting from up ahead. 

Your eyes whipped open and suddenly, you were filled with an entirely different kind of fear. Smoky black clouds of Death Eaters whipped through the sky around you - somehow, they had discovered the plan. And now, they were targeting all of the fake Harrys, firing off curses in every direction, looking for the real one. 

They were targeting Fred. 

That was the only thing at the forefront of your mind - they were going to hurt Fred. 

“Y/N-?” 

“Just get us out of here!” You told him. “I’ll cover you!” 

You knew that you couldn’t close your eyes now. Of course you would step up to protect him. No matter if the two of you were lovers, friends, or something estranged - you still loved him in your heart, and you would protect him no matter what. 

You grabbed your wand out of your jacket and gripped it stiffly, firing a stunning curse at the first silver mask you saw, still tightly gripping onto Fred’s jacket with your other hand. He used both his hands on the broom, gripping tighter with his legs to steer better, years of Quidditch honed skill coming in handy. His ability to be calm and fly mindfully while Bludgers were flying at his head made him a lot calmer with multiple Death Eaters firing potentially deadly curses all around him. In the back of his mind, he thought that Wood would be proud. 

You were still shaking horribly, and a few of your spells didn’t land on the first try, but you kept trying. You centred yourself, remembering what you were doing, who you were here for. In your mind, it wasn’t about Harry, it was never about Harry - it was about Fred. It was because Fred had approached you about the last minute replacement, it was because Fred was the one on the broom in front of you, the one you would have died to protect. 

You didn’t see when someone Apparated in a thick cloud of black smoke behind you, and raised their wand in your direction, hitting you squarely in the back with a heavy jinx. It was the force of a brick wall smacking you, something that sent you and Fred tumbling end over end through the sky and sent you flying cleanly off the broom because you didn’t have the instinct to grip the wood with your thighs like he did. 

You let out a shrill scream as you felt yourself falling, your worst fear coming to life. 

Thankfully, Fred was quicker than gravity - quicker than death. 

He laser focused on you, and suddenly, everyone else was gone. All the supposed danger, all the Death Eaters - even other members of the Order who might have needed his help - they all vanished in his eyes. 

It was only you. 

He turned the broom into a deadly nose dive, racing down toward you, reaching with his hand out, and in seconds, while you were still hundreds of feet off the ground - he snatched you. He had your wrist gripped so tightly in his hand - slightly sweaty, already slipping. But he wouldn’t have let go of you if Lord Voldemort himself commanded it.  

He likely would have died with that tight grip still around your wrist in those moments if someone had hit him with the killing curse. 

He slowed the broom down, turning up out of the dive, intent to get you away from the fight, driving forward. Scarily, his arm muscles were already shaking from holding up all of your body weight. 

You stared up at him with tears of pure terror dancing in your eyes, and though he was wearing the mask of The Chosen One - in those moments, the terrified, caring, loving eyes of your Fred were staring right back at you. 

As much as you trusted him, you felt yourself slipping out of his grip, and more fear swelled inside of you. 

“Freddie, help me!” You screamed, shaking, flailing under his grip, trying to reach your other arm up to help as he struggled to hold onto you. “Freddie, please, I don’t wanna die!” 

“I’m not gonna let you die!” He replied, desperation gripping his throat. “Just - look at me. Don’t look down.” 

Of course, you were distinctly reminded of that day at The World Cup. And somehow, you felt the same sense of safety with him now that you did then - even if you didn’t have the railing or even the gravity of something under your feet. 

His muscles shook harder, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto you for much longer. 

He had to pull you up. 

“I’ve got you.” Fred huffed, straining with the effort. “I’ve got you-” 

He tried pulling you up, but his muscles shook harder in protest, and he let out a harsh, murderous scream of frustration. And then he did the only thing that he could think to do. He gripped onto you tighter, and he used his legs and his other hand to do a sickeningly sharp barrel roll, twisting the broom completely around by leaning with his right shoulder. He flipped the entire broom with the hopes that you would get the chance to be flipped back onto it safely. 

Luckily, even though you let out another terrified scream, you got the hint and hooked your leg around the wood mid-air, holstering your shaking body back behind him. You gripped onto Fred even tighter then, and one glance around told you that luckily, or unluckily, the fight had cleared off from around the two of you. 

Perhaps they had heard you call this imposter Harry by the name ‘Fred’, perhaps you had given the real Harry away and ruined the whole plan. As you squeezed your eyes shut again and shoved your now tearful face into Fred’s back, selfishly, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care. 

The rest of the trip went on too long for your liking - you were still crawling with anxiety and eager to have your feet back on the ground. 

Toward the end of it, you felt Harry-Fred’s body shift back into the tall, more muscular form that you were familiar with (somehow a bit more muscular than you remembered, but you tried not to get caught up on that detail). You were more than relieved when you felt your feet brushing against the ground with the landing. Distantly, you heard the familiar, comfortingly worried baulking of Molly’s voice, and you opened your eyes to see that Fred’s head was much higher up than it had been before, and his hair was thankfully returned back to its bright red state. 

Molly rushed over to Fred, and there was some conversation, but you couldn’t make it out - blood was thumping in your ears, your body still overtaken by all the horrible symptoms of your fear. The moment that Fred dropped the broom in order to step away from it, you stumbled off into the grass on weak legs. 

You hardly realised that you were hyperventilating - you simply felt dizzy, felt your chest aching from the lack of breath; you noticed that your vision was blurred with tears, and you knew that you weren’t getting enough oxygen. You pressed now muddy hands to your face in desperation, trying to usher more air past your lips, and it was then that a streak of orange fell into your view as Fred dropped to his knees in front of you. He had heard you gasping, and of course, rushed to you with nothing more than concern flooding his system once again. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He murmured, trying his best not to panic himself at seeing you like this - he gently took a hold of your face, guiding your vision toward him. “Look at me. You’re alright now. You’re safe.” 

Of course you knew that. You knew that you would always be safe with Fred. 

But your body hadn’t even registered the fact that you had landed yet - the panic only now fully setting in, bringing with it the most cruel, shocking symptoms you had ever experienced. You did the only thing you could think of - the only thing that would truly make you feel safe. Something you knew would truly ground you after experiencing such chaos so high up in the air. 

You launched yourself toward Fred, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist in a firm hug as you tried to stifle down sobs. He easily accepted this, his thick arms coming to cradle your back, selfishly thankful to have you back in his arms. He gently rocked you back and forth as he peppered more soothing words beside your ear. 

“You’re alright now, darling.” He said, letting the pet name slip so easily that it frightened him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, feeling your gasping panic all too quickly soothe away under the firm warmth of his touch. “You’re alright.” 

Almost instinctively, he laid a kiss on your temple, not entirely realising that this wasn’t necessarily something an ex-boyfriend would do - he was so ripe with the urge to comfort you, the need to make your pain go away. He couldn’t help but take a little something selfish as the empathetic waves of your panic echoed over to him. 

“I was never gonna let you fall.” He whispered, almost speaking these words to himself - a sacred promise. 

He had regretted every day since the break-up, and even if he couldn’t be your lover, he was never going to let you get hurt. 

You gripped him tighter, your breathing almost back to normal now, and you pushed your face tighter into his chest, relishing in the firm warmth of his body against you. This was something you hadn’t felt in far too long. Fred placed another kiss on the top of your head. He was about to say something entirely dangerous when another bit of chaos came tumbling through the garden, distracting him away from you and causing the words to die off in his throat. 

Remus, hauling George across the grass - and George, slumped over, a massive amount of blood dripping down the side of his head. 

“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly. 

Your head whipped around at this, and in sync, you and Fred scrambled to your feet, rushing to see what had happened to him. Fred lifted George’s other arm to help get him inside and safely rested him on the couch. 

It was a horror show. 

The flesh of George’s ear had been blown to bits, blood smearing down across his face and spilling down the side of his neck; he was sickly pale and barely conscious. His eyes only flickered, giving you some sense of life in him when Fred called out his name after making sure he was resting comfortably on the couch. 

“Georgie?” 

There was a rare quiver in Fred’s voice that made your stomach quake. Fear. You were not accustomed to hearing Fred fearful, not of anything. Even when he had abandoned Hogwarts and dove into a career as a shop owner without a single clue if he would find success, he did so without a single bit of fear in his heart. 

But of course - seeing his dear brother like this, knowing that someone he loved had been so close to danger - it made him terrified. 

“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly. 

At least he was conscious enough to speak. That gave you quite a bit of relief. 

“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked. 

“Saint-like.” George replied, a tired smirk gracing his lips that told you he was forming a joke - something that was utterly hilarious in his mind that would only make sense to others when he delivered the punch line. 

You wanted to sob, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. Of course he would be making jokes only moments after nearly being killed. 

“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively. 

Perhaps it sounded partially dangerous to him like it did to you. Perhaps George felt Saint-like because he was too close to death. 

Both of you and Fred held your breath as you waited for the reply. 

“Saint-like.” George grinned. And then he lifted a tired hand and gestured toward the bloody hole on the side of his head before he delivered his glowing punchline. “I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Get it?” 

Fred grinned, and you let out a gasping chuckle that you knew was mostly tears. Behind you, Molly inhaled sharply through her teeth, running a hand over her forehead with the stress, and Ginny shook her head as she exhaled an exhausted sigh. 

“The whole wide world of ear related humour, and you go for ‘I’m holy’?” Fred replied, unable to resist humouring George. “That’s pathetic.” 

You knew that if either of them knew anything about the story of the Muggle painter Van Gogh, then they would have been making jokes in that lane. 

“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George added on tiredly. 

“You were always better looking than him.” You said, your voice throttled by tears, unable to resist. 

When you turned around to retreat, you saw Ginny clutching onto Molly, clearly hiding tears in her mother’s shoulder, Molly’s face dancing with a kind of sadness you had never seen before. You knew you couldn’t run from your pain. You had known the Weasleys for so long, loved them too much. You had a distinct kind of duty here. 

“Molly, do you have a cauldron around?” You asked, hating how choked with tears your voice was. “I can whip-up something for his pain. I do it at the shop all the time. And a Sleeping Draught, so he can get some rest.” 

It was true - one of your many duties working at the Apothecary was making and bottling simple, common potions to sell (pregnancy test potions, simple multi-use pain potions, Dreamless Sleep Draughts, cures for warts and other common rashes) - many people liked the convenience of coming in and buying a potion for everyday uses rather than having to make it themselves. 

“There’s no need-” George began to protest, but Fred easily cut him off. 

“Come off it.” Fred hissed toward his brother, not taking kindly to ‘selfless’ idea of George not accepting something for the pain he was clearly in. Then, Fred rose up from his place beside George and turned to you with a look of intense concern on his features. “Whatever you need.” 

… 

You had barely begun to set up everything you needed for the brewing when the others finally came in, bringing more chaos with them. Remus accused Harry of being an imposter, which was quickly proven false. Apparently the Order had been betrayed, which explained the presence of Death Eaters on the mission so easily. They had used inside information to know when Harry was being transported - it was only luck that they had been thrown off by the Polyjuice Potion, having to chase down multiple Harrys and not knowing which one was real (even if George got gravely injured in the process). 

Mad-Eye had been killed. 

You weren’t sure if what you felt was mourning for the man. You hadn’t known him all that well. Not the true version of him, anyway. You continued to weep quietly as you worked on the potions, but you knew it wasn’t specifically for him. His death only served to remind you how truly dangerous the mission had been - how close you, Fred, and George, and the others had all come to death. How lucky it was that nobody else had been killed. 

You tried not to let the suffocating gloom that had overtaken the Burrow due to the near failure of the entire mission disrupt the process of making the potions needed for George. When Molly didn’t have some of the ingredients that you needed, you gave Fred your spare key to the Apothecary and he popped over to get them for you. Mr. Michaelchuk, who ran the place, had always told you to ‘take what you needed’, and this was the one time you had actually taken him up on the offer. 

When Fred returned, he fussed at George’s side, helping him change into pyjamas (when everyone else had cleared out) and tucking him in comfortably to a makeshift bed on the couch, with lots of pillows and extra cosy blankets, to the point where he got annoyed with Fred coddling him. You always knew that the two were good friends in addition to being brothers, as close as two people can be, but you had never seen so much abundant affection between them. It was sweet. 

Molly came back downstairs wearing a plaid dressing gown, with a pair of tiny reading glasses balanced on her nose, her slippers scuffing along the floor. She mentioned that Arthur was already ‘snoring away’ - but of course, she had no intentions of going to bed herself. Because of course, if George was down here on the couch, it was so that she could watch over him while she busied herself with knitting - much like she had when Arthur had been on the ward at St. Mungo’s after he had been attacked by the snake. You had gotten a particularly nice jumper for Christmas that year, one that you still wore often when it got particularly cold outside. 

Fred had settled to sit on the couch by George’s feet, and the two had fallen into a hushed conversation, though you didn’t hear most of it. And of course, it wasn’t long before Molly rushed Fred off to bed, just like she had done with everyone else, wanting to give George the space to rest without distractions from visitors. 

“-just get her back, you idiot.” You hear George hiss in a whisper before Molly pushed Fred toward the stairs. 

He couldn’t possibly be talking about…? 

No. 

No, he wasn’t. 

You didn’t think about it. Instead, you let yourself get lost in the meditative process of brewing, making sure that the potions were perfect. You made sure that George was pain-free and lost to a deep, restful, healing sleep (with a few pre-brewed bottles of the potions to spare that would keep his pain at bay for the next few days) before you finally went upstairs, ready to collapse with exhaustion. 

You passed by Fred and George’s room on your way to your final destination, Ginny’s room, where you would be staying with her and Hermione, from now up until Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After which, you would return to your apartment above the Apothecary and try to resume your best sense of ‘normal’ life. All of your things were already unpacked in Ginny’s room, and you had a sleeping bag set up on the floor there. 

But of course, you naturally came to a stop at the mouth of Fred’s open bedroom doorway, letting an instinctive caring overtake you and participating in the need to check on him. 

The sight you saw made your heart ache. 

Fred was sitting on the edge of his twin bed, his posture slumped with pure exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed out of the now ill-fitting Harry clothes that he had to wear for the mission: jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sport jacket that were now coated in dirt and traces of George’s blood, all oddly short in the limbs and emphasising his tallness, his hands still stained bright red in a way that couldn’t be washed off. 

His face was marked with tear tracks, and his tired, dead gaze was fixated on George’s still neatly made matching twin bed. A space that was hauntingly empty across from his - a sign that his brother was missing. A sign of just how easily someone precious could have been taken from him that night. 

“Freddie?” 

You croaked out, the nickname slipping out in a way you couldn’t control once again, causing him to snap out of whatever distant, depressing thoughts he was caught in. His head jolted toward you, only now realising that you had been standing in the doorway for so long. 

“Y/N,” He responded, his voice choked by tiredness, sadness. 

It was so alarmingly strange to see someone who was usually the pinnacle of laughter reduced down to this. You had never seen Fred Weasley so sad before. 

You had seen him angry, on occasion - like when someone insulted you, or when he had been banned from Quidditch for getting into a fistfight with Malfoy. You had seen him annoyed - like when he found out that the age to enter the TriWizard Tournament was seventeen, and he was only a few months away from being eligible. (You were thankful for that one, and secretly thankful when his Ageing Potion had failed). 

You had seen Fred go through a lot - but you genuinely believed that was the first time you had seen him so deflated in the face of the world. 

He rose to his feet, turned his back to you, almost as if trying to hide. He raised a hand to his face, and your heart ached more when you realised that he was trying to wipe away tears. 

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.” You said, moving forward, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, moving up to peel the sport jacket off him. 

You knew that the sadness, something he so rarely felt, had paralyzed him. You knew that sleep was what all of you needed right now - some rest to get your heads on straight. And you wanted to help him in any way that you could. 

“I can’t-” Fred huffed, stepping away from you, putting some distance between the two of you in the small room. “I can’t do this right now.” 

Your stomach curled into a horrible knot as he echoed the words he had spoken to you on that horrible day, when he had broken up with you and relinquished himself from your presence without a second thought. 

It truly hit you then - he didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to be near you now. He had only held you close a few hours ago because it had been a matter of life and death. He had helped to calm you down because it was the friendly thing to do. He didn’t want you here now. 

“Okay.” You choked out, nodding, taking a step toward the door. “O-okay.” 

A hot tear rolled down your face, and you moved to make your way toward Ginny’s room. You were harshly whipped across the emotional spectrum again when Fred stopped you. 

“Y/N, no.” He said, reaching out and grabbing onto your elbow. “Wait.” 

“What, Fred?” You wheezed, your body breathless and exhausted from the horrible roller coaster that you had been on that night. You knew that you glared at him horribly, but you couldn’t help it. “What is it that you want from me?” 

Fred took a step back, as though you had burned him, running stiff hands through his hair. You could have easily run off, turned your back on him and never spoken to him again. Just like he had done to you on that day so long ago. But you waited with your chest tight, waiting for him to finally give you an answer. Did he want to be friends? Did he want you to disappear from his life completely? Did he want-? 

“I can’t-” He choked out, clearly struggling for breath. “I can’t…” 

He swallowed around a fat tongue, and after a heavy moment, he finally got the words out. 

“I can’t lose you.” 

The words spooked you more than the sight of George’s bloodied, blown-apart ear. 

You stared Fred down with a ghost in your eyes, somehow more terrified than you had been when you had been dangling hundreds of feet above London. He was frantic, rapidly searching for more words to explain himself. 

“I - I almost…” He gasped, his throat tightly constricting again. “You almost slipped out of my hands.” 

He spoke the words as though they were a horrible curse, raising his hands in front of him as if to demonstrate the point, as if to demonise his own limbs for not having enough strength to hold you up. His hands shook with undistilled anxiety, with anger towards himself. 

His declaration gave you that sickly sense of nausea, as though you were back up in the air again. You realised that maybe he hadn’t been sitting on the edge of the bed, mourning about potentially losing George - but instead, he had been thinking about you. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t slip.” You replied, the words choked off in your throat, rushing to assure him of the good he had done. 

You were unable to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in yours, steadying his grip with a firm anger of your own. You were unsure how he could be so cruel toward himself when he had saved your life only hours before. 

“You held me up, Fred. You didn’t let me fall.” 

He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively. 

You knew there was something more troubling him - something deeper that he had yet to speak of, or perhaps wouldn’t tell you at all. He grinded his jaw tightly and slipped his hands away from yours. You stood there, looking at him tensely, wondering if he was going to clue you in, or if he would simply say goodnight and let himself stew with whatever horrible emotions he was feeling. 

“I can’t live like this.” He declared harshly, his throat raw. “I can’t live with you at arm’s length.” 

So what? Was he saying that… he was upset about the break-up? 

Was he saying that he hadn’t actually wanted to be apart from you? 

A look of pure confusion knit across your features, and in the murky silence, Fred moved on to explaining. 

“I let you go once before.” 

He whispered, the words so quiet on his lips, a crazed type of regret dancing in his eyes - in an instant, you knew he wasn’t talking about the mission or flying. He was talking about how easily he let you go from his life - the break-up. 

“I let you slip away from me far too easily. And it was the stupidest thing I have ever done.” 

“Freddie-?” You choked out, more chaotic emotions rocketing through your body now. Anticipation, anxiety - that love for him that you had bottled away slowly creeping back in. But you couldn’t bear to let it flow through you, not yet, not until you knew. 

“If one of us were to die tomorrow, I couldn’t live my last day knowing that I wasted it not being yours.” He declared, the pure passion in his words causing every small hair on your body to stand up on end, making you dizzy. “I know that I’m the biggest git on earth for what I did to you, and for not apologising sooner, but please, please, please, darling-” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You grabbed both sides of the sport jacket and used it to haul him down toward you, planting your mouth firmly onto his, moaning into a kiss that you had longed for, having so sorely missed the touch of his lips on yours. 

You had missed him so damn much. 

Fred was quick to keep up, letting out a delighted sigh of his own, his stomach doing flips in delight, almost in disbelief of just how lucky he was that you hadn’t slapped him across the face and stormed out. 

When your hands ventured down, smoothing across his body - he became even more delighted that you seemed to want more than a kiss out of him. And he was quick to prepare. 

He reached to his back pocket for his wand and pointed it at the still open bedroom door, performing a quick spell that slammed it shut and locked it. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that his bedroom had some silencing wards around it from the days when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been in its infancy, operating their prototype experiments out of this room in the darkest hours of the morning. (Percy got sick of being woken up by the twins’ excited voices and the sound of sputtering cauldrons, and put the silencing wards around their room for his own sake, not knowing how much more it let the twins get away with.) 

Fred was surprised when you took another fitful grip on the front of his shirt, using it to direct him back toward his bed and shoving him down onto it with a strength that he barely knew you had. He fell sideways across the small twin bed, his knees crumbling along the side of the mattress, leaving him sitting with his feet on the floor and his body half collapsed against the tightly tucked-in covers that his mother had prepared before everyone’s arrival. 

He was utterly weak to your whims, anyway, and would have gone wherever you put him. 

He was expecting you to climb on top of him, something needy inside of him yearning for the feeling of your body on top of his after missing it for so long. And he found himself further surprised when you dropped to your knees in front of him, settling your shoulders between his spread thighs, forcing him to spread his legs wider apart to accommodate you. The action spiking a sharp breath out of his lips when you shoved up the hem of the shirt that technically wasn’t his and reached for the button on the jeans that fit him even worse as his cock grew to life underneath them. 

“Y/N, darling-” He choked out, breathy and sharp through his teeth, an intense wave of lust hitting him all at once. 

All night, both of you had been through the emotional ringer - calm determination, fear, possessiveness, mild relief, grief. All while trying to hold back your emotions for each other, balancing right on the edge. Trying desperately to hold each other at arm’s length. 

And now he had you right where he wanted you, where he had been dreaming of you being for months since the break-up; and for some stupid reason, some part of him still felt that it was wrong. That part of him screaming that he should be the one on his knees serving you, that he needed to better apologise-

He reached for your shoulder, clearly trying to coax you back up onto the bed with him, and you swatted the touch away. 

“Don’t-” You choked in return, continuing on your determined path, ripping his zipper down and tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Freddie, please. Let me do this.” 

You looked up at him with a glassy heat in your eyes that he had never seen before. All the times he had pinned you against walls in quiet corners at Hogwarts, with his hand up your skirt - he had never seen you so wild, so desperate. 

Something utterly possessive rippled through you - something that screamed that you needed to have him weak and moaning for you, that you needed to worship him, to thank him for doing the impossible and saving your life. He was a strong, wonderful man and you needed to taste that strength. You needed to know that you were the only thing that could have him weak, quivering, begging. 

“Fuck-” Fred hissed out when you reached past the band of his underwear and grabbed his cock - your warm touch wrapped around his shaft felt like a deadly awakening, especially when it had been so long since anything but his own had had touched his cock. 

All too soon, he surrendered to you entirely and lifted his hips, slipping the fabric of his jeans and his underwear down completely past his thighs, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. He supposed that’s how it always went with the two of you - he would let you have whatever you wanted, even before you asked. (That’s why the break-up had gone down the way it had - it had been the one time he had been stubborn on something, not simply letting you have your own way.) 

You took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length as you admired him, gently re-familiarising yourself with his body, feeling like it had been far too long. 

“Did you miss it, darling?” He asked, looking down the length of his body at you with a cocky smile stretched across his soft lips. 

You rolled your eyes, hating the possibility of making his ego any larger. 

“Oh yes, your wonderful big cock was the thing I missed most about you,” You griped in return, hoping that your sarcastic tone was more than apparent. 

“I knew you only wanted me for my body.” Fred chuckled. 

As much as you wanted to deny it - Fred Weasley’s cock was a marvel that you couldn’t have forgotten if you had tried. 

During your time apart, it haunted your heated dreams, turning them into nightmares of pure want, your mind dangling something in front of you that you couldn’t have. It made things even worse when he would come into the Apothecary, flirting with you and flashing you a smile, showing off his broad shoulders in those fine tailored suit jackets and making your eyes flicker to his zipper in an utterly whorish way. 

Now, you felt spoiled to have it in front of you again - the perfect beastly eight inches, lean and tall just like he was, curved off slightly to the side, sticking off from a sparse patch of ginger hair. 

Your pussy clenched as you thought about having him inside of you again for the first time in so long, giving you that perfectly full feeling that your fingers never could - but you craved his taste first. You wanted him under your control - you knew part of it was driven by all the fear you had experienced that night, all the chaos that had made you feel so powerless. You needed to feel alive, needed to wield power over someone, something. 

You got your mouth on his cock with a downright feral hunger. 

Fred let out a deep moan and threw his head back, collapsing onto his elbows as the heat and wetness of your mouth enveloped the heat of his cock - it sent another wave of lust zipping through him, reminding him just how throbbing hard he was, just how much he needed you. This was made even worse when you moaned around him - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your mouth, perfectly full, making you choke in such a beautiful way when you dropped down to take more of him. 

“Fuck, darling, shite-” 

You quickly became drunk on the feeling. 

Your eyes fell closed and you simply let yourself enjoy it, loving the fullness of his big, beautiful cock filling up your mouth. With a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, your jaw wide as you began bobbing your head. Your tongue flat against the base, tasting as much of him as you could while you enjoyed the feeling of him so fat and thick in your mouth, gagging you slightly whenever the round tip hit against the back of your throat. It was a perfect, slow rhythm that agonised him and delighted you, and soon had spit pooling around your knuckles. 

The wetness drove him even more insane, especially when it allowed for your soft lips to move slicker against his shaft. 

“Goddammit, please, please, oh-” 

You could feel his thighs begin to quake and quiver beside you, and you wondered if he was close already. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull off - wanting to tease him a little. Part of you wanted that bit of revenge, wanting to get him back for the pain he had caused you when he had turned his back on you that day. Though you weren’t entirely cruel, and you didn’t leave him hanging out to dry completely. 

You kept your hand pumping on his now spit-slicked cock (it was that slow, agonising rhythm that caused him to pant like a needy dog), and you moved your mouth downward, giving in to the personal urge to lick and suck on his heavy balls. You did want to drive him a bit more insane, and give into your personal curiosity about what the heavy sac would feel like against your tongue. 

“Fucking - oh - darling, what are you doing to me-? That fucking mouth-” 

Fred wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell. 

It left him stuck in some sick purgatory where the woman he loved had turned into a sex-crazed vixen, but wouldn’t let him touch you everywhere he wanted to most. Instead, he was sentenced to stare at you as your gorgeous mouth teased his aching cock, making him harder, driving him madder with every stroke of your little devilish tongue. He couldn’t take it anymore - not when your pretty fingers gripped around the base of his cock just right and your lips suctioned so perfectly around one of his bullocks. 

He wouldn’t waste the night cumming over your fist without getting his hands on you properly first. 

He weaved his fingers into your hair and yanked you back, caused you to let out a small yelp - not one of pain, but a bitter sound of complaint as you were pulled off his cock too early for your liking. The sharp tingle of him pulling on your hair caused your tongue to lull out, trailing a filthy bit of spit back to his balls that had him growling. 

Before any words could form, he leaned down and used this grip on your hair to guide you to his lips, shoving his tongue into your open, waiting mouth - something that had you moaning once again, and easily following his lead as he guided you up to sit on his thigh. 

“Don’t expect that I’m gonna waste it all over your hand, darling.” He murmured against your lips between heated kisses. “When I cum tonight, it’s gonna be deep inside your sweet cunt, yeah?” 

You moaned loudly at this. 

You had devolved past the point of words now - having his cock so thick and heavy in your mouth only making you fuzzy-headed and more needy for him. You unconsciously canted your hips against his thigh, grinding your pussy against him through the fabric of your jeans, needing more. You panted against his cheek as he moved deft fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants while he continued to speak. 

“I need you, pretty girl.” 

He growled lowly in your ear, the pure passion of the declaration causing such intense waves of lust through you that you would have collapsed - if not for the brick wall of his muscled body holding you up. (Hold you up for the dozenth time that night, only for a drastically different reason this time). 

“I need to see you cum on my cock. Missed this pretty cunt so much, can’t wait-” 

He trailed off in his crazed lustful ramblings when he shoved his fingers past the now open fly of your jeans and into your underwear, quickly finding a distinct wetness and landing on your clit with a firm touch like a magnet. 

“Freddie!” You wept into his neck, bucking into the touch as you tumbled into a madness of your own. 

He began circling quickly on your clit, enjoying your gasps and other sounds, enjoying the feeling of you bucking so wildly on his thigh. All too soon, he was overtaken by a little pinch of mischief that always crept up on him. The urge to get you back for your earlier teasing. He quickly removed his hand and felt a smirk spread across his lips at the deflated little whimper you made, your eyes snapping open just in time to catch him licking your wetness off his fingers. 

“Fred-” You began to protest, sharp demanding in your tone. 

“Come on, get these clothes off,” He said, giving you a firm pat on the ass that made you far too weak to his whims. 

“Freddie-” You whined this time - and rather than giving into you, he brought up a fantastic point. 

“The faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can get my cock in you.” He whispered hotly against your ear, making you shiver. 

You hated that he was right. 

You stood up, moving to strip your shirt off over your head, glaring at him the whole time while he also began to strip himself. 

“Go on, good girl.” 

You hated how those words made you even wetter. You hated how easily he manipulated you based on weaknesses he knew so well. 

“I hate you.” You mumbled quietly, absolutely no heat in the words as you reached to unclip your bra. 

“Oh darling, if only that were true.” 

He said pointedly, mourning peeking through that bit of mischief in his eyes. Something you didn’t have too much time to decode as stood to his full height to untangle his jeans from his legs, knowing that you would quake in his shadow and become even more turned on from this. 

Once you were both naked, he ushered you down onto the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with your head on the pillow as he captured your mouth in another needy kiss. You moaned against his lips, easily sucking his tongue in as you tangled your fingers into that fiery red hair and gave an appreciative tug. You then tucked your knee up over his hip, opening yourself up to him - this caused his heavy cock to brush against your wetness, making you gasp into his mouth as the two of you made contact for the first time in far too long. 

“Freddie-” You gasped, unconsciously bucking your hips up, causing your pussy to wetly slide against his cock in a way that forced a deep groan out of him. “Oh, fuck, oh-” 

“Shh, darling, Daddy’s got you,” Fred replied, palming across your forehead and your hair in an almost gentle way while he further parted your thighs with a firm knee. 

His words caused you to choke on another moan. 

You had heard Fred refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ before - but much like everything else in his life, it was always a joke. He would be buying his favourite sweets and mumble ‘come to Daddy’ before tearing open the package and devouring them. He would say that his codename was ‘Big Daddy’ when setting up a particularly epic prank. (George was ‘Big Red’ and you were usually ‘Darling’ or ‘Garden Flower’. They were not the most useful or top secret codenames.) You had heard him jokingly shout ‘Daddy’s home’ when returning to the Gryffindor common room, only to have the expected laughs and jokes in return. 

You had never expected that the name would turn you on so much. But you had never, ever expected to hear it in this context. You had also never expected that it would sound so natural in this context. But it suited him so well. It seemed to only compliment the gentle kind of caring he gave you - how protective he was over you, how safe he made you feel. 

“Daddy,” You moaned in return - Fred gripped your hip with a deadly, bruising grip and looked at you with a fierce heat in his eyes. 

Hearing that word from your lips turned him on in a way he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, it took every bit of his personal will not to slam his cock into you and hammer his hips forward until you said it again, and again, and again. Until you screamed it. 

He took a hold of his cock with the other hand, and you expected him to slide into you, finally giving you both what you truly needed - but instead, he began rubbing the round head of his cock against your clit, further teasing you. You let out a gasp and looked at him with pleading in your eyes. 

“Freddie,” You whined, attempting to angle your hips up, fruitlessly trying to trick him to slip his cock inside of you. You knew him too well, knowing that once he got the tip in, he wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you senseless. But he held you down with the hand on your hip, making you barely able to move at all against his muscular hold and the awkward angle he had you pinned with. 

“Come on, sweets,” He purred, laying a kiss on your forehead, and then your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck as he murmured against your skin. “Tell Daddy what you need. Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

He began roughly smacking his cockhead against your clit, making you jolt and gasp sharper, making your pussy leak furiously against the bed. You cried out and gripped his hair tightly, almost meanly, desperate for the teasing to end. You didn’t see the way he was staring at your cunt, mesmerised by the sight of your swollen pearl kissing against his cock, glistening, wet and needy. Something that he would burn into his brain forever and most definitely revisit on lonely nights. 

“Please, Daddy!” You moaned, hoping the name alone would goad him into giving in. But you knew what he truly wanted, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Please - fuck - I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, I need-” 

Perhaps he was truly satisfied by this, or perhaps he couldn’t take the teasing anymore himself - either way, he finally guided his cock down to your pulsing entrance and pushed in, swearing hotly under his breath when the tight, wet, perfect heat of your cunt began sucking him in for the first time in over a year. 

“Oh, oh fuck, Freddie,” You moaned, tugging on his hair. “Oh-” 

“Fucking perfect,” He swore into your ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed this pussy so much.” He choked on a groan as he continued slowly inching his hips forward, splitting you open with his massive length, making your pussy ache and burn in the most perfect way. “Good girl. So good for me. So good for Daddy,” 

You both moaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you - you, feeling that deep satisfaction of feeling so perfectly full once again, and Fred so deeply enjoying the wet warmth of your pussy around him that was so irreplaceable because it was you. 

Sensing your need, especially after all his teasing, and after spending so long without him - he didn’t make you wait any longer. 

Fred began rocking his hips into yours at a gentle, even pace, not wanting to hurt you. From the sound of your gentle whines and the feeling of you squirming beneath him, he could tell that you needed more. He could tell that now wasn’t the time for holding back. 

He let out a gentle grunt and you became even more heated and curious as he began shifting around, some clear intent on his mind. You let out a sharp gasp when he raised himself up on his knees, poising himself in the perfect position to fuck you hard, deep, and powerful. Then, he made it even more deadly when he grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, making more air hiss out through your lips when he pressed your body practically in half, pressing your knees up toward your chest before he hooked his arms under your legs to keep them there and planted his hands firmly on either side of your chest. 

The two of you were even closer, even more intimate, and you felt him so much deeper inside of you. 

“Freddie,” 

You croaked out darkly, already feeling him so much deeper as he settled in above you. Your pussy was leaking furiously around him now, clenching tightly and waiting for him to move as a ghost of dark mischief danced through his eyes that promised you were in for the sweetest kind of hell. 

“Good?” He asked, smirking at you. 

“Yes, but what about-?” 

You wanted to warn him not to make too much noise, not to break the bed, which was already creaking in protest underneath the two of you - but he didn’t entirely care. Fred never truly cared about the consequences of his actions once he got an idea in his head - to him, the thrill was more than worth whatever pain may befall him. 

The only time that hadn’t been true was when he had made the foolish, heat-of-the-moment mistake of breaking up with you. And now, he had to make up for it. 

He put all the power into his muscled thighs (the same muscled thighs that had saved you just a few hours ago by gripping onto his broom and steadying the flight) - and ploughed forward with intense power. This began an unforgiving, hard rhythm of pounding into your cunt in hard, deep, fast strokes. 

In seconds, you were putty beneath him - he had you perfectly pinned in place so that you couldn’t have moved an inch if you wanted to, all you could do was lay there and take it. You were weak against the savage movements of his long cock fucking into your swollen pussy over and over again, filling you up in the best way you could have imagined, becoming everything you needed in the world. 

As the room filled with the harsh, wet slaps of his skin against yours and your weak moans, followed by his increasingly animalistic grunts - all there was in the world was you and Fred, the space where the two of you met, the place where he had your thighs pinned open so that his cock could absolutely ruin your pussy.  

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” He growled against your lips - you moaned pathetically in return, flooding even more wetness around his cock, making the sound of him fucking into you embarrassingly slicker. “Never should have let you go. Should have kept you right here, right where you belong,” 

You wanted to tell him that perhaps the fight was both of your faults, that you should have reached out to him sooner and told him that you wanted him back. That the time apart had been so dreadfully tender for you too. 

But your brain was soup, only further stirred up by the tip of his cock poking around in your guts. So any words you could have said chased out of your lungs with every passionate thrust of his hips up into your wet pussy, and all you managed in return was: 

“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!” 

“Shh, darling, I know.” Fred mumbled into your neck, taking a sloppy, greedy lick of your skin. “I know, sweets. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. Gonna keep you fucked n’ full. Never gonna let you go again. Never gonna let anyone else touch you-” 

Fred’s hips stuttered and you tightly squeezed around his cock at the words. 

Perhaps it was a wink of his personal insecurity peeking through. The horrifying idea that because he had broken up with you, you might find somebody else. When in fact, you had been so caught up on him, only thinking about him, waiting for him. (The whole time, thinking that he had broken up with you because he no longer had any favour in his heart for you.) 

“Just you, Freddie.” You breathed out, desperately trying to get air past your now very chapped lips. “Always yours-” 

“Yes, mine.” He replied, that crazed desperation returning to his voice. “Mine, my girl.” 

He sealed his lips against yours, grinding his hips tightly against your pelvis rather than fucking you with any kind of rhythm now - showing you just how deep he was inside of you, just how much he owned you, truly, from the inside out. It was something that made your stomach clench, made your body buzz with electricity, and made you whine around his tongue. 

You were close. 

Fred knew this - he knew you too well. He moved a hand down to your clit, letting one of your legs drop slightly, and had two determined fingers on your throbbing clit while he picked up the pace again, pulling his lips back from yours. 

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for Daddy like a good girl?” 

His words, his velvet voice speaking to you so commanding yet so sweet, were what truly brought your orgasm to life in your belly. His voice made the fullness of his cock and the sharpness of his fingers on your clit all the more electric. You likely could have cum just from his words alone if he kept speaking to you that way. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response. 

“Good girl. Come on,” 

He breathed hotly against your chin, his eyes now eagerly dancing from your face to the space where your cunt hugged his dick, leaking around him in such a wonderfully filthy way. Clearly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to look, what part of the show he was more eager to witness after missing out on you for too long. 

“Come on, cum on my cock. Cum for me, love, good girl-” 

His heated words trailed off as your head snapped back and your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers digging sharply into his bicep as your orgasm rocked your body. Fred grunted as he continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to you, taking in every single inch of the sexy beauty that was you, the love of his life, as you thrashed and moaned and came on his cock. It was the most perfect sight he could have imagined, and he easily ingrained into his mind forever, praying that he would never have to miss out on it - to miss out on you - ever again. 

“Yes, yes darling, so good for me, so good-” He practically choked on his own words, his voice so thick with lust that it barbed the insides of his throat. 

As he felt the last weak spasms of your pussy around his cock, he stopped rubbing your sore clit and became possessed with a new need, becoming slightly selfish now. He fucked his hips forward even harder, determined to find his own pleasure inside the sweet, soft walls of your cunt. 

“Fucking hell-” He choked out a groan, dropping his head into your neck again as you petted through his hair, encouraging him through it while he unintentionally sent sharp zaps of overstimulation through your pussy with every needy, sharp push of his hips. 

“Freddie,” You breathed out. “Come on, Daddy, cum for me. You’ve been so good to me, come on-” 

He let you another loud growl and pounded into you harder, dropping his hold on your other knee and letting your legs rest to cradle around his waist as he blindly chased his own end inside your soft, wet cunt. 

“Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” He whispered into your neck, chanting like a man possessed, sending another unexpected wave of heat through you that made you moan weakly. “All mine, all mine, darling, all mine, gonna give you what you need, fuck-” 

He tried to silence his moans into your neck as he stiffened his back and finally came - his own orgasm hitting him like a firework. He shoved his hips forward stiffly one last time, seating his cock deeply inside of you, stuffing you full, just like he had promised. He gentled grinded his hips against yours in mindless, stuttering strokes while he pumped spurts of hot cum deep inside of you - something that made your body buzz with even more heat and made you moan in return, clutching onto him tightly with your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh darling, oh-” He muttered quietly against your neck as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

It was so perfect, and made you feel so utterly connected to him. It was a distinct reminder of everything you had missed - his warmth, his caring, the thrill he gave you while at the same time making you feel so damn safe. 

When Fred moved to pull away from you, moving to break that connection, every instinct in your body screamed that it was wrong. You clenched your legs around him, digging a heel into his lower back to keep him close, and he let out a grunt - still dizzy from his orgasm and unsure what you were doing. But he settled back into place, creating a filthy ‘squish’ between the two of you. 

“Just hold me.” You said, having no clue when the tears had returned to your eyes, making your voice so clearly wet. “I missed you. I can’t lose you.” 

“Hey, hey shh.” He said, leaning up to kiss along your cheek, rushing to kiss away those tears. “I’m right here with you, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, wiggling his grip between your back and the mattress to do so. This created the most stunning cocoon, forcing your two bodies even closer together - it wasn’t long before he became soft inside of you, but he stayed there for as long as he reasonably could, kissing along your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, uttering quiet reassurances that you weren’t going to lose him, that you wouldn’t have to miss him any longer. 

It made you incredibly content and warm. At least while it lasted. 

When Fred finally pulled out of you, you felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction and loneliness, which you tried to ignore. Especially because you weren’t sure if he would want you to sleep in his bed - which was something that you wanted very much, especially after the long day you had. But you weren’t sure if he wanted to be left alone to contemplate all of it, to be sure of his decision to take you back. 

You jumped to get out of the bed as though it were on fire, and when you looked to your rumpled clothes on the floor - your jeans still stained with dirt from when you had collapsed in the garden, your shirt likely reeking of sweat from the nerves of everything that had happened - the idea of putting those clothes back on wasn’t exactly appealing. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“My things are in Ginny’s room…” 

You sighed, realising that if you wanted a pair of pyjamas for the night, or even a fresh pair of underwear, then you would have to waltz in and wake her up - and likely be interrogated about where you had been. She was all too knowing anyway, and any excuses you gave about spending the time caring for George or simply having a ‘talk’ with Fred would be seen right through by her. 

Fred hummed, and stood, and you were surprised when he comfortably went over to the chest of drawers against the wall at the end of his bed, going right to the top drawer. The drawer where you used to keep some of your things when you stayed with the Weasleys on holidays - and surely enough, a small collection of your things were still in there. 

Things that he had never returned to you after the break-up that you had never thought to ask for. You had no idea that he often came to this drawer, sneaking mournful whiffs of your scent - even used your shirts as a pillow case if he was feeling particularly lonely. 

He pulled out a pair of your comfortable sleep shorts and a large, soft, worn green tee shirt with a large shamrock on the front and a ‘94 on the back that he had bought for you as a souvenir from The World Cup. It had been your all time favourite sleep shirt, and you had wondered where it had disappeared to when you moved into your apartment above the Apothecary once you started the job. 

“I hope these still fit.” He said, handing you the clothes. 

“They should.” You said - quiet, careful not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that he had kept your things all this time. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have any panties for you, so…” He trailed off, a filthy grin plucking up over his cheeks once again when the implication hit the air - the fact that you would be commando underneath your clothing. 

“Yeah, very unfortunate in your eyes, I’m sure, Fred.” You huffed, turning toward the door. “I should go get cleaned up.” 

You let out a small squeak when two strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you sharply back, causing you to collide with the wonderful, bare, muscled, now slightly sweaty body. You couldn’t help but to melt into the touch, and you let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your neck - not in a particularly lustful way, but in a way that was purely loving and affectionate. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easy, darling.” He whispered in your ear. “Please, do come back afterwards. You know I like to cuddle,” 

You didn’t think that you had ever heard Fred Weasley say ‘please’ for anything so plainly in his life. But, as usual when it came to him, you wanted exactly what he wanted. 

“Only if you insist.” You joked lightly, smoothing a hand over his arm that was still tightly encircled around your middle. “I suppose I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for cuddling,” 

Fred quietly let out a ‘yes’ in celebration, and hesitantly let you go. He then collapsed back onto the bed, relaxing spread eagle, still confidently naked against the covers with his hands behind his head against the pillow. You couldn’t help it when your eyes did a once-over of his body, admiring the soft planes of his muscles that had come from hard work rather than a distinct workout routine and the beautiful bit of fat on his lower belly that made him so warm and nice to cuddle. Of course, when your eyes met his, he was smirking at you. 

“I’ll be waiting, love.” He told you with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at this, biting your lip to suppress a smile at his somewhat deserved cockiness. 

You moved to leave the room with your newly acquired clothes, wanting to freshen up in the bathroom a bit before going to sleep (the bathroom was right across the hall, so you would have to sneak across the way naked and hope that nobody would catch you, but it should be fine at this time of night). But when your hand twisted the knob and it didn’t budge, you remembered that Fred had locked it earlier. 

He moved to grab his wand from the pocket of his pants, splayed out in the middle of the floor, but you reached for the jeans first. Your wand was still downstairs beside the cauldron that had brewed the potions for George, but often, you found that Fred’s wand worked fine for you. 

Ollivander and other wand experts said that a wizard couldn’t find the same kind of success using a wand that wasn’t their own, but you found using Fred’s to be just as natural, like an extension of your own arm. Perhaps it was because his core was a Dragon Heart’s String, and that heart beat for you just as fondly as his own did. Either way, it was a fine substitution. You unlocked the door easily and tossed the wand back to him where he was sitting on the bed, and then you snuck across the hall to clean up and get dressed. 

When you came back, Fred had crawled under the covers and was starting to fall asleep. When you crawled in alongside him, you found that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so you locked the door again, just in case. It was a basic charm that anybody could get through, but it would give the two of you a few minutes of warning to make yourselves decent if somebody did come knocking. 

It felt like the most wonderfully natural thing in the world to settle beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist while he slept on his back, putting your head on his chest and feeling his sleepy fingers brush across your head from behind. 

“Goodnight, love.” He whispered, so quiet as though he was afraid to break apart a beautiful daydream. 

“Goodnight, Freddie.” 

… 

You wondered if all of it had been a dream. 

Fred apologising to you, begging for your forgiveness, the two of you having amazing sex - it was something you had dreamt about many times before. It was something you had wished would come true, only to find yourself waking up alone in a cold bed. So waking up next to Fred, with his large, warm body coiled up against your back like a koala was one of the best ways you could have come into a new day. 

It wasn’t long before the smell of Molly’s cooking reached your nose - the wonderful fatty sizzle of sausages and the bready warmth of toast that told you she was frying up a full English (likely because she had been having trouble sleeping after the events of the night before). Your stomach gave a painful pang, making you want to get out of bed to eat just as much as you wanted to stay cuddled up with Fred. 

You gently petted a touch along Fred’s heavy arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist, and soon, he sucked in a sharp breath as he too began to stir. 

“Merlin, I missed this.” He said, leaning in to smother you with more of his perfect warmth as he somehow crowded tighter against your back, kissing along your clothed shoulder and up your neck once again. 

Your heart fluttered with the sweetness, the fondness of it all, and you wondered how such a hellish night had made way to such a perfect morning. 

“I wish we could stay in bed forever, Freddie, but I think your Mum is making breakfast.” You remarked, finding yourself more aware of your hunger as you woke up more, and more drawn to the delicious smells. 

“We can stay here for a bit longer.” He hummed into your neck. 

Just then - his stomach let out a loud groan of protest, and you giggled. 

“Come on, Big Daddy needs to eat too.” You said, using the nickname in a more playful, joking manner as you patted his thigh, untangling yourself from his arms as you got out of bed. 

You were surprised, and slightly victorious when you saw a slight blush tinging his pale cheeks because of the teasing, the way you had used the nickname. It was amazing to see someone like Fred go from so powerful and confident to fluttering with shyness. 

“I have to find some trousers,” He remarked, suddenly remembering that he was naked. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” You grinned, walking across to the bathroom, lucky to beat anybody else there before the others started waking up. 

When you hit the bottom stair, Fred was standing at the back of the couch with his back to you, now fully dressed in a pair of comfortable plaid sleep pants and an old Chudley Cannons shirt that must have belonged to Ron. (It was only because of many winding discussions about Quidditch among the boys that you hadn’t even wanted to hear that you knew the Cannons were Ron’s team and the twins hated them.) 

Fred was leaning over, clearly talking to George, who was still laying where the two of you had left him the night before. You hated that your instinct was to stand back where neither of them had seen you and listen in on their conversation - but you had only learned such matters from Mr. and Mr. Extentenable Ear themselves. 

“...well, yes, I would say that it did go well, but I would still have to classify the nature of the relationship as dubious. Or friendly at best.” Fred said in a rushed whisper. 

Your stomach gave a twist. This time you had to assume that the twins were talking about you. Talking about what had happened between the two of you the night before. 

“Dubious?” George’s voice baulked, clearly trying to stay hushed himself, but having a hard time restraining his volume due to frustration - frustration at not being able to get a better answer out of his brother. “The two of you had sex and you’re classifying the nature of the relationship as dubious? Are you an idiot or was the sex that horrible?” 

You choked down a laugh at this, not wanting to be caught just yet, and resisting the urge to speak up and clarify that the sex was, in fact, great. 

“No, she seemed perfectly satisfied, thank you very much.” Fred hissed back, full of sass. You would have said more than ‘satisfied’ - for once, Fred was actually being humble. “But I just didn’t think to stop and ask: oh, by the way, does this mean that we’re back together and you still love me? Or were just scared and lonely after almost dying and wanted a decent lay? Can you fill out a post-orgasm survey to clarify, please, and make sure to-” 

An arm came up from the couch with a pillow, smacking Fred clear in the chest - hard enough to force a small grunt out of him. George was certainly feeling better. You were glad to know that your potions had done him some good. 

“You should have just asked, you numpty!” George scolded him. “You’ve been mooning over losing her for-” 

“Y/N,” Fred cut off his twin’s words by saying your name, announcing your presence as that smack with the pillow had caused him to finally turn his head and spot you there. 

“Fred.” You grinned, not at all ashamed that you had been caught. 

You walked over to the couch, leaning over to find George grinning at you in a way that said he was holding back a barrage of stomach shaking laughter because of the conversation you had caught the two of them in. 

“For the record, I would call the sex more than satisfactory.” You said, a mischievous grin coming over your lips. “And I do still love you.” You announced, turning toward Fred. “I was lonely and scared last night, but that’s why I came to you. You’re the only person I want to go to when I feel that way. I missed you. And I want you back if you’ll have me.” 

“Merlin, of course I’ll have you.” Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, now grinning as well. “I love you more than anything, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

“I have some idea, and it was bloody annoying.” George muttered out, only to be ignored. 

You leaned in for a kiss, naturally, but just as Fred’s lips brushed yours, George let out a loud, fake gagging sound - one that had Molly running into the room, clearly fretting and worried that George was actually ill. 

“I’m fine, Mum.” George groaned as Molly began patting down his head with a wet cloth - clearly, his night had been filled by the annoying, but loving fuss of his mother watching over him. 

“Yes, yes of course.” Molly nodded, hesitantly putting the cloth down. “It’s time for breakfast anyway - do you feel up for sitting at the table, dear?” 

“I would love to get off this bloody couch.” George groaned. 

Fred rushed around to help him up, and after a moment of struggle to his feet, you grabbed his other arm to help him along into the kitchen. 

“I suppose it all worked out for the better.” George said, smiling at you. “Even if you did end up with the less attractive twin.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile at this.

...

A/N: This fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This is a capsule story meant to be read independently, and in terms of the narrative, there will not be a continuation. If you are going to leave a comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written here, do not comment asking for more. If you would like to read more of my fics, please take a look at my Harry Potter Masterlist, more specifically, my other Fred Weasley fic - Kisses Like Fire Whiskey. Thank you if you have gotten this far, and happy reading!