#he already kissed her once and she seemed like she was into it

[noirscript]

the price of legacy

pairing: yandere teacher x reader description: William Harrington, the sweet kindergarten teacher everyone adored, became the husband you never truly chose — and now, he dreams of children you never asked for. In his eyes, you're already perfect; in his arms, there’s no room left to say no. warning/s: yandere | noncon | dubcon | breeding kink | emotional manipulation | coercion | psychological entrapment | smut note: apologies for the inactivity. currently working on sovereign's reign. hope you enjoy this one! oh, and the sale on dark roast ends on the 30th. grab it while it's still on sale ^^ WILL ADD TAGS AND TAGLIST LATER! Made this on mobile and I'm sleepy (T△T)

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William Harrington always knew what he wanted, and it was always you.

The house was quiet when he came home, the faint scent of chalk dust and lavender clinging to him like it always did after work. The door clicked shut behind him, locking you both in with a soft finality. His smile was the first thing you noticed — wide, eager, almost frantic in its affection. It twisted something low in your gut, but you still forced your own mouth into a pale version of his grin.

"Love," he said, dropping his worn satchel by the door, already crossing the room with a kind of boyish energy that didn't quite fit the situation. "You wouldn't believe how precious they were today."

Before you could respond, he had you wrapped tightly in his arms, the press of him too much, too fast. His chest was warm through the fabric of his shirt, his heartbeat hammering against you like he had run the whole way home just to get here. You managed a weak noise — something that could pass for acknowledgment — but he was already charging ahead, his words tumbling out unchecked.

"Little Amelia drew me a picture," he said, pulling away just enough to dig into his pocket. He smoothed out a crumpled sheet of paper, the messy lines and crooked letters forming a child’s rough idea of a person. ‘Mr. H’, it read. His eyes were bright, almost fevered, as he pressed it into your hands like it was something priceless. "She said I was her favorite," he added, his voice dropping into something shy, as if confessing a secret. Like a boy. Like someone still playing pretend.

You stared down at the scribbles, your mind dragging you back to the memory you couldn't seem to escape: the quick ceremony under a heavy sky, the cloying scent of lilies filling your nose until you could hardly breathe, the feel of his hand never leaving the small of your back — not in comfort, but as a claim. You remembered standing there, your mouth dry, your head swimming. You hadn't said yes. Not really. You just hadn't said no fast enough.

"And I kept thinking," he said now, voice dropping lower as he slid to his knees in front of you, his hands smoothing up your sides, slow and deliberate. His palms came to rest against your stomach, lingering there with a kind of desperate tenderness. "I kept thinking how soon it'll be our little ones I'm bragging about."

You stiffened, instinctively. His forehead pressed against your shirt, his fingers tracing gentle, possessive circles over your still-flat belly. To him, your silence was agreement. It always was.

"I can't wait, love," he whispered, rough and reverent. "I can't wait to see them toddling around... giggling... calling you Mommy." His mouth brushed over your shirt, a soft, claiming kiss. "They'll be beautiful. Just like you."

You blinked hard, the burn at the corners of your eyes sharp and sudden. Sadness, panic, dread — it all churned together until you couldn't tell where one feeling ended and another began. You had tried to tell him once. That you weren't ready. That you needed time. That you weren't even sure this marriage — this life — was something you wanted. But he never heard anything except what he wanted to.

In his mind, you were already perfect. Already his wife. Already the mother of children who didn’t exist yet. Just a few more months, a few more tries, and he would have everything he dreamed of. Whether you wanted it or not.

"You'll be such a good mother," he said, beaming up at you, utterly blind — or willfully ignoring — the way your hands trembled at your sides. "I just know it."

You smiled because you had to, because any other reaction would only invite more of his careful, suffocating concern. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you with the same gentle reverence someone might use to cradle a glass figurine. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it — this slow, smiling entrapment he called love.

Because there were no locks that could keep him out anymore. No distance far enough. No safe word strong enough to break the fantasy he'd wrapped you into.

His breath warmed your shirt, slow and rhythmic, and when he looked up at you again, there was something burning in his gaze — something desperate, something too big and wild to name. He smiled, all teeth and certainty.

"Let's try again tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble that wrapped around you, heavy and inescapable. His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs just a little too tightly. "I can feel it, love. This time..." His smile stretched wider, sharper. "This time it'll happen."

You opened your mouth — you wanted to say no. You wanted to tell him to stop, to wait, to listen — but the words turned to dust on your tongue. He was already kissing your stomach again, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt with slow, aching persistence.

"You were made for this," he whispered, inching lower, tasting your skin through the thin fabric.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick and sweet with the faint smell of flowers — fresh blooms he had bought, bright and cheerful, as if good intentions could mask everything else. Baby name books sat piled on the desk. Plans scribbled in notebooks. Dreams you had no part in building now growing like vines around your life, wrapping tighter by the day.

You stumbled back when he pulled you toward the bed, but he caught you easily, steering you down onto the mattress you barely recognized anymore. The linens smelled like him. Everything did.

He was over you instantly, stripping you bare with careful, greedy hands. His mouth was everywhere, pressing kisses that felt more like marks, claiming you piece by piece.

"You're perfect," he groaned, settling between your legs with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. His body was hot and heavy, his cock dragging against your thigh, and then — too quickly, too inevitably — he was pushing inside, slow only in the way that prolonged the dread. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to stay silent as he filled you, his moan low and broken against your neck.

"There you are," he murmured, rocking into you with a steady rhythm that pinned you to the bed. "So good for me. So ready to be a mommy."

The ceiling blurred and spun above you, but you forced the tears back. You knew better than to cry now. Crying would only make him sweeter. Softer. More patient. And somehow, that was worse.

He moved faster, deeper, chasing something you had no say in. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you higher, adjusting you like a doll, like something built just for him. His forehead pressed against yours, and he whispered promises against your skin.

"I’ll fill you up," he panted. "You’ll never have to be alone again."

The bed creaked under you both, the room thick with the slick sound of his body using yours, the heavy, clinging scent of sweat and flowers and inevitability.

He kissed you when he came — messy, breathless, his hips grinding down to bury himself as deep as he could, as if he could fuse you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress, anchoring you there.

"You'll be such a good mommy," he whispered against your temple. "And I'll be such a good daddy."

You stared up at the ceiling — silent, still — feeling the words sink into your skin like chains you couldn't break. The life he dreamed of was already here, already real.

And no matter how fiercely you wanted to escape, he had already decided for the both of you.

You were his.

And there was no way out.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[megalony]

This Was No Accident - Part 2

Here is the second part of my Buddie imagine based on @neonkiwi lovely request.

I hope you will all like it, I already have a third part in the works for this little series. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo

@teenwolfbitches28 @mandmilovehim @jooniesbears-blog @riywasu @amy2265

Series taglist: @dottirose @originalsoulcollector @itsmimi16 @onetoomanyfichusbands

Buddie Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) wakes up in the hospital after the run in with her former stalker, who seems intent on making her the subject of his affection and obsession, once again.

Enjoy.

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Blinding lights were all that (Y/n) could focus on. Her eyelids burned and her eyes felt like they were being scorched by the sun before she even managed to open them properly.

A whimper croaked past her lips and burned the back of her extremely dry throat as she tried to turn her head away from the brightness shining down on her.

There was a horrible throbbing pain in her temple that felt like someone was using her skull as a bass drum. Every inch of (Y/n)'s skin was crawling and itching from discomfort and she twitched and shifted from side to side, desperate to drift back into a numb state or have every sense of pain disappear.

It was hard to get her vision to come into focus when her eyes finally opened, but once they did, panic and ease fought a odd battle within her stomach.

She didn't know where she was. The room was pure white like she had gone colour blind. She didn't recognise the ceiling, the strange bed she was laid in or the items and equipment surrounding her.

The only thing that looked familiar were the two people sitting on the bed beside her.

She didn't realise she was whimpering until her throat started to ache and she felt Eddie's hand suddenly cupping the back of her neck. Her eyes closed and she leaned in close when Eddie hovered over her and his lips attached to her temple. His thumb stroked the back of her neck, gliding over her hair while he gently hushed against her temple.

"You're okay," Eddie murmured against her skin that still felt rather flushed, but not as bad as when they got her in the ambulance at the reunion.

When another quiet cry left (Y/n)'s lips and she began to shake, Evan reached forward and entwined his hand with hers. He began to glide his other hand up and down her arm and across her wrist while he held her hand close to his chest, desperate to try and calm her down and show her that she was alright.

"Baby, it's okay. You're in the hospital." Evan pressed a dozen kisses to the back of her hand while he and Eddie waited for her to take proper breaths and calm down.

When Eddie sank back down on the bed again, he pulled his lips away from her temple but kept his hand cupping the back of her neck, stroking along her skin to try and calm her down.

Both of them could see the tears beginning to trickle down her face and it made their hearts ache and yearn to wrap around her and show her that everything was okay. She was alright now.

They could see that she looked groggy, her eyes were constantly rolling around and finding it hard to keep in focus. And she was squirming and moving from side to side like she was dreadfully uncomfortable and didn't know what to do with herself. And the pain written across her made made Evan wince.

They watched her look around the room, taking in where they all were and trying her best to remember what had brought them here.

Dread seeped into (Y/n)'s bones when the realisation and memories hit her all at once. Her hand fisted around Eddie's forearm and she shrank back into the pillow as she looked over at Evan.

"Connor… he- he was waiting for me," They had been at the reunion. She hadn't been feeling well. She had seen Connor when she went into the bathroom. He was the last thing she remembered before everything blurred and shockwaves of pain rolled through her system.

Her throat ached and she winced as she coughed. It almost felt like she was having a hypo, her thirst was never quenched and her mouth always felt dry when she was in a hypo.

It looked as if Eddie read her mind because he reached out and held a paper cup of water towards her, urging her to have a drink. He wasn't surprised she felt dry, the amount of fluids they had given her during the night had all been through an IV drip. Eddie had rubbed glucose powder into her mouth during her hypo and they had put a tongue clamp in her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue again and blocking her airways.

No doubt her tongue was swollen now and aching from how tightly she chomped down on it during her seizure.

Once she shakily downed the cup, Eddie placed it back down on the side table for her while Evan inched a bit closer to her.

"In the toilets?" Confusion tore through Evan as he remembered what happened last night. He thought Connor had seen (Y/n) go into the toilets and decided to pounce. He hadn't contemplated Connor waiting for (Y/n) in there.

Why would he be waiting in the toilets? How would he have known that (Y/n) would have gone in there? She went to check her blood sugar levels and do her insulin where people wouldn't be watching and observing. Connor wouldn't have known that.

"Why?"

"My drink, he wouldn't l-let me go."

Evan quietly mumbled "I told you," under his breath as he looked across at Eddie. He knew, he just knew it couldn't have been a coincidence that Connor had been holding onto (Y/n) like that and he knew it wasn't a normal hypo. Her blood results they got back last night just cemented it, but hearing (Y/n) confirm those suspicions made Evan feel like he was about to explode.

He had been with her last night, he was supposed to look after her and prevent Connor from getting anywhere near her. And he failed.

More tears began to pour down (Y/n)'s face until she was starting to gasp for breath and she began to shake like she was about to have another seizure.

She remembered Connor's voice, he had said something about a drink, waiting for it to work. She remembered him grabbing her and practically laying her down on the floor. She remembered feeling so sluggish and unable to move or lift her limbs. (Y/n) recalled the panic she felt at the thought of Connor hurting her or doing something far worse to her in that bathroom.

The only saving grace she had was that she recalled Evan's voice and his touch on her skin before everything turned off. Connor hadn't had chance to do anything; Evan beat him to it.

"Hey, hey it's alright, shh." Evan was taken by surprise by (Y/n)'s force when she scrunched both her hands in his shoulders and leant forward into him.

Her face smothered into his neck and she curled into him like a kitten seeking protection. He cupped the back of her head and began kissing her hair while Eddie roamed his hand in circles on her back to try and calm her down. But there was a fire burning deep within Eddie's eyes.

Evan knew if they had found Connor before they got (Y/n) in the ambulance last night, Eddie would have killed him for what he had done to her.

"What happened?" (Y/n)'s voice was quiet as she gasped into Evan's shoulder and lifted her head just a little so she could look between them both.

She didn't like the fire burning within Eddie's eyes, it was frightening to see him so riled up when he was always so calm and composed. And the way he was trying so hard not to snarl showed that he was full of rage over whatever had happened last night.

She found herself clutching tighter at Evan's shoulders as she looked between them to see who was going to tell her.

"I don't know how, but he managed to drug your drink last night… it sent your levels way down. You had a hypo so bad you started seizing and I had to call an ambulance. They had to sedate you to prevent another seizure."

Evan hadn't been impressed when (Y/n) started to go into another seizure when they arrived in the emergency room last night, and he had been even more riled up because she had been given medication to try and stop the seizing. It frightened him when they put (Y/n) under anaesthetic, but it had been the best way to stop the seizure activity so they could find out the problem and get her levels back up to normal.

Shivers jostled through her skin and she looked across at Eddie as if to get him to confirm it or tell her something different.

"They pumped your stomach and flushed your system with a few IVs to get rid of it and they had to keep dosing you on glucose and then insulin until your levels came back to normal."

It hadn't been pretty to see them pump (Y/n)'s stomach and get her on about three saline bags to flush her blood and stomach to make sure the drug was entirely gone from her system. If they didn't pump her stomach and it continued to get into her blood she would have suffered even worse. And the bloods they tested showed the drug that Connor had clearly given her.

(Y/n) barely drank alcohol and she never did drugs, both of those things could mess with her diabetes and clearly last night they had reacted badly. Connor could easily have killed her by doing that.

And with her levels being as low as they were, the doctors had to boost them fast so (Y/n) didn't slip into a coma. Which then made her levels rise too high, so it was a game of meds and insulin until her system regulated itself and got her sugar levels back to where they should be.

(Y/n) cringed and dropped her cheek back down against Evan's shoulder. No wonder she felt so sick and uneasy. She had been flushed with saline and fluids and her stomach had been emptied and washed out.

She felt a little better when Eddie bent down and kissed her cheek while Evan laid his cheek on top of her head as he got lost in thought.

But Eddie hated the way that (Y/n) jerked and shuddered against them both when there was a slight knock at the door before someone walked in. It was as if she expected Connor to waltz right in and try to hurt her again.

Well they wouldn't let that happen. He had hurt her enough and last night had been the last time. It wouldn't be happening again.

"It's okay," Evan murmured against her hair while Eddie twisted around and shifted up so he was sitting behind (Y/n) against the pillows instead of beside her thigh.

Moving up allowed Eddie to sit directly opposite the door and when (Y/n) straightened up, he curved his arms around her waist and gently inched her back until she was leaning into his chest. She was shaken up and frightened and needed to feel safe. His hand began to glide up and down her hip and he attached his lips to the back of her head while he looked at the door as Athena walked in.

It was always different and sometimes strange to see Athena in her uniform, it always made them feel formal rather than friendly.

When Evan looked to see who it was, a light sparked in his eyes and he managed a smile. Athena was here. She had been more than helpful on the phone last night and she assured them that she would find Connor and deal with him. She listened to everything Eddie and Evan told her about Connor and she had talked to Bobby who reeled off the situation from last night.

She must have some good news for them. She had to tell them that she had found and arrested Connor for that stunt that he pulled last night. That was what they needed to hear right now.

Evan turned around on the bed and perched on the edge beside (Y/n)'s lip and he practically leaned against Eddie's arm too. It was a bit of a squeeze to have them all on the bed, sitting the same way so they were all facing Athena, but they wanted to be close and needed comfort and reassurance.

"Did you find him, is he under arrest now?" Evan couldn't help the eagerness that flooded his voice as he looked over at Athena with those puppy dog eyes that could melt anyone.

Bobby and the team had come to the emergency room with them last night and Bobby had stayed until one in the morning with them. He had calmed Evan down from a panic attack and waited until (Y/n) was finally stable and on a ward before he went home. Eddie had rang him this morning to thank him for staying and getting their shifts covered.

He had rang Maddie too as she had graciously looked after Chris last night and had dropped him at school this morning. Everyone had been so helpful and understanding, now they just needed Athena to give them some good news.

Athena smiled as she tucked one hand into her belt loop and moved over to grab the empty chair. She pulled it over so she could sit down near Evan and she reached across the bed to rest a hand on (Y/n)'s thigh.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"I've been better," (Y/n) shrugged and tried to smile, but she couldn't manage it with all the nerves building up in her stomach.

She felt rough. She felt sick and uneasy and groggy and horrid, all at once in a jumbled mess. The only relief she had was that she was sat with both her boys who weren't about to let her go anytime soon.

She laid her head back on Eddie's shoulder and slouched into his chest a little more while her right hand reached out and gripped Evan's arm. She could see his knee jittering up and down while his foot tapped rapidly against the floor and was starting to make the bed shake. He was as anxious as she felt.

"Well, we brought Connor down to the station yesterday, but we have no proof that he spiked your drink. I'm afraid we can't arrest him for that."

It was clear that this wasn't the news Athena wanted to give them. The way she bit her lip and tried to run her hand up and down (Y/n)'s leg showed she was sorry about this, and she knew she couldn't make this much easier for them.

She watched the way (Y/n)'s jaw dropped and her expression turned slack like she was suffering a stroke. Another round of trembling set in her bones and she pushed back into Eddie like she wanted to make herself disappear.

This wasn't fair.

He had tried to hurt her. He had intentionally done this to try and attack her, he had been waiting in those toilets like a predator for (Y/n) to come in disorientated so he could pounce on her. How could they not arrest him for that?

He admitted to (Y/n) that he did something to her drink, the doctors had proof. Evan saw him grabbing at (Y/n) and he fled the scene. Surely that was all the evidence they needed to arrest him or at least keep him in the cells so he was off the streets and posing no further risk to (Y/n) and her family.

She felt Eddie's arms tightening around her waist while his chest tensed up and pressed into her back. He was getting riled up, she could feel it.

"The lab results came back, she was drugged. He used a date-rape drug and it put her into hypoglaecemic shock, he could have killed her!" Eddie could barely control the tone of his voice, and he chided himself and winced when he felt (Y/n) cringe in his arms.

Both Eddie and Evan had hit the roof when the doctor told them the blood test results and they found out exactly what he had put in (Y/n)'s drink. It was clear what his intentions had been. He would have dragged (Y/n) out of there last night if he had the chance. He would have taken her and gone further than just following and stalking her like he used to.

And he clearly didn't understand or care about the consequences or how he had compromised (Y/n)'s health. He knew she was diabetic, he had known that since they had gone to school together and he had willingly ruined her health last night and he could have killed her. He needed to be held responsible for that.

More tears built up in (Y/n)'s eyes and she gingerly reached out to curl her trembling hand around Evan's arm which she coiled into her chest. If he hadn't of gone looking for her when he did and found her in the toilets, Connor could have done anything to her or managed to drag her out of there and kidnapped her. (Y/n) wouldn't have been able to do anything in her incapacitated state and without the medical help she got at the right time, she would have gone into a coma. Something Connor clearly hadn't been concerned about.

Contemplation and a sense of misery pooled in Athena's eyes as she sighed and slouched back against the chair.

She understood where they were coming from, she really did, but her hands were tied. They didn't have enough concrete evidence to arrest Connor or make the charges stick, and they couldn't arrest him on (Y/n)'s say so even if her word was good.

"But we can't connect that to him when no one saw him tamper with any drinks, and he had none on him when he found him. We know it's him, but we can't prove he did anything." Athena shuffled her chair a bit closer as she suddenly wished that Bobby was here.

He was always good at calming down situations and deflating rising tempers and emotions. He would know what to say to the boys to reassure them whereas right now, Athena felt like the bearer of bad news with nothing she could do to help them.

"He grabbed me, he w- he wouldn't let me out and he knows he can't come near me."

(Y/n) found herself digging her nails into Evan's arm until she suddenly realised that she was pinching and breaking the skin while he said nothing at all. He started to stroke his fingers across her chest to try and calm her down.

Connor knew he wasn't allowed near (Y/n), he knew there was a restraining order which meant he couldn't take pictures of (Y/n), he couldn't follow her to and from work and home. He couldn't follow her to the shops and out on dates and he couldn't try and get close to her and do anything untoward.

Clearly he didn't care about that. He had no concept of breaking the law and he didn't mind being questioned by the police. He just wanted to terrorise (Y/n) and he was getting away with it.

"She has a restraining order out against him, he violated it."

"What good is a restraining order if you won't even restrain him?" The bitterness in Evan's tone couldn't be dampened down and it ignited the fire within his eyes.

Was there any point in (Y/n) having a restraining order if they weren't going to arrest him for violating it?

He had grabbed (Y/n), he had tried to drag her around in that bathroom and he shouldn't have been anywhere near her, let alone touching her. They needed to arrest him for that at least, if they couldn't get him for drugging her. Something was better than nothing.

"We know he violated the order by being in those women's toilets and trying to keep (Y/n) in there. He's out on bail, but we've got a new order in place, he can't come within five hundred feet and if he's anywhere near your house we can-"

"You- you told him where we live!" A deep whine left (Y/n)'s lips and her heels began to scrape against the bed, causing her to push back into Eddie.

Her sudden sense of panic caused both men to be on red alert and Evan hissed when she scratched and pulled on his arm, wrenching it into her chest like she thought Connor was in the the room and about to hurt her. And the way she shifted and pushed back into Eddie caused his chest to ache but he kept his arms tight around her to try and calm her down.

Her head tossed back onto Eddie's shoulder and she continued to press her heels down into the bed and cry out like she was in agony.

"Honey I had to, you have to have an address on the order so he knows exactly where to stay away from."

"I didn't tell the police I moved s-so he wouldn't know where to find me. Now he knows."

The gut-wrenching scream that (Y/n) let out caused all three of them to wince and shiver.

And when she unleashed Evan's arm in favour of digging her nails into her own skin and scraping the back of her neck, Evan tried reaching out for her. He grappled for her wrists while (Y/n) continued to cry and gasp, clearly heading into a panic attack. She pressed back into Eddie, rocking against his chest while he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and tried hushing and humming against her skin to soothe her.

She knew that when she and Evan moved in with Eddie, she should have told the police. In order to keep the restraining order, (Y/n) was required to tell the police when she moved and where she was. It was so they could inform Connor so he knew 'where to stay away from'. But it wasn't fair.

It defeated the object of trying to get away from Connor and move on if he always knew where she was moving to and where she was.

It wasn't safe. (Y/n) was putting the boys, and Chris, in danger by letting Connor know where she was. He wouldn't stay away, he would just follow her and hang around and try to approach her and frighten her. It was what he did, stalkers didn't stop simply because someone told them to, whether it was the police or not.

(Y/n) thought that not telling the police was safer, she could keep all her boys safe by having Connor be none the wiser of where she was.

Athena had told him.

The police had told him where she lived, now he knew where she would be, he would know what area she lived in. He would be able to hang around the shops and 'bump into her' by accident. He would wait on street corners and be on their home corner and he would follow her until he found out where she worked and what she was doing each day.

He might even try to turn up at their home under some pretense. (Y/n) wouldn't be safe from him anymore.

A deep sob wracked past (Y/n)'s lips as she opened her blurry eyes and looked across at Athena. "He almost killed me, a-and now he can do it again. He won't stop, you- you… you've led him straight to me."

If he had gotten away with drugging her and almost killing her, Connor was going to feel emboldened. He was going to be triumphant and willing to go even further. He would try and break into their home, try and snatch (Y/n) from the street or hurt her in broad daylight if he thought he was going to get away with it.

Athena had unwittingly given Connor the map to (Y/n), to where she lived, where she would be and where her family were.

"He'll f-find me-"

(Y/n) twisted until she was laid on her right side with her face meshed into Eddie's arm and her hands clutching at Evan since he had hold of her to stop her from scratching herself in utter despair. She coiled her knees up to her stomach as Eddie leant forward and curled around her like a blanket.

"Shh, no mi amor, he's not going to find you. We won't let him near you, it's gonna be alright." He hushed into her neck as they slowly began to sway from left to right, but when he locked eyes with Evan, both of them were blazing with fury.

"You have to be able to do something." Desperation clung to Evan's tone as he looked at Athena while he wrapped his left arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulled them both into him until (Y/n) was practically laid over his lap.

They couldn't just leave (Y/n) vulnerable and unprotected like this. They had told Connor where she lived, they had caused any future situation by informing him and releasing him today rather than locking him up where he belonged. There had to be something that Athena could do that would keep Connor away from them and keep (Y/n) safe.

"If you see him near the house you just call me and we'll detain him, he's on thin ice."

"Can we do this later?" Eddie motioned down to (Y/n) in his arms with a pleading expression on his face.

She was in no state to carry on this conversation, knowing Connor was getting away with what he'd done was frightening her and (Y/n) was too panicked to be talking about the what ifs. She didn't need this right now, the news about him being released was bad enough without being told Connor could prey on her whenever he liked and there was very little the police would actually do to keep him away.

"Of course."

Right now, the boys needed to look after her and calm her down. They weren't going to let anything else happen to her.

***

"Can you get that?"

A grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she looked ahead at Evan. He hadn't turned to look at her as he spoke over his shoulder, too focused on what he was currently frying in the pan in his hand.

If (Y/n) didn't know any better, she would have thought that Evan was a chef from observing him in the kitchen. He had a tea towel tossed over his left shoulder, the frying pan in his left hand and a fork in the other hand. His broad shoulders were tensed and raised up and he was swaying his hips from one side to the other as he worked.

Whenever he was home, (Y/n) and Eddie usually left Evan to do the cooking because it was something he enjoyed, and they all knew that Eddie couldn't cook many things. And Evan got rather controlling in the kitchen, he didn't like people trying to help or intervene with his methods and what he classed as 'his kitchen' when he was cooking.

A hum left (Y/n)'s lips as she slid down from the bar stool she had been perched on in the kitchen and turned around. She headed out of the kitchen and made her way through the hall, tangling her hand in her hair as she aimed for the front door since the bell had rung.

It couldn't be Eddie, he was currently at the gym and then he would be picking Chris up from school in about ten minutes, which was why Evan was starting dinner now.

"Can I help you?"

Her head angled to one side and she kept her hand curled around the door handle as she pressed herself into the edge of the door. Partially hiding herself behind it as if she was expecting an attacker on the other side.

A small part of (Y/n) expected Connor to be at the door whenever anyone came by, especially since it had been almost a week since the incident at the reunion and he had yet to do anything else or approach her. But she knew it wouldn't be him. Connor had never knocked at her door before, it wasn't his style. Hanging back and watching from a distance or just straight up grabbing her was more his thing.

"Delivery for (Y/n)."

Confusion tore through her as she wracked her brain to try and think of anything she had ordered, but she couldn't recall anything. Unless the boys had bought something in her name or Chris had sneakily ordered something online.

"Oh," Her lips parted but no other words escaped her mouth when she watched the delivery guy reach down for the bouquet of flowers by his feet.

Flowers?

(Y/n) certainly hadn't ordered any flowers and it wasn't really Evan or Eddie's style to get flowers or get them delivered like this. If they ever got her flowers they usually bought and brought them home themselves.

"Sign here."

She made a quick scrawl of her signature before the flowers were thrust into her arms and the man was already backtracking towards his van parked on the front. (Y/n) watched him go, looking between the van and the bunch of red roses she was now holding.

Roses weren't exactly her thing or her favourite flower- she didn't really have a favourite- but they were pretty, and their aroma was lovely.

She closed the door and turned around, taking a moment to lean close and smell the flowers while she looked for the label or a delivery note or a little card. There had to be some indication of who had sent these, and why. It wasn't a special occasion, it wasn't her birthday and having a two day hospital trip wasn't exactly the kind of occasion where someone would send flowers when she came home.

There was a card pinned right in the centre of the bouquet, a lovely pale beige card with a handwritten scrawl in the centre.

Juggling the bouquet in her left arm, she reached in for the card and fished it out to see what it said, but the writing made her blood run cold.

I enjoyed our little reunion. Can't wait to do it again soon. <3

A round of trembling set in her system as she stared at the card like it was written in a language she didn't understand. But she could read every word.

It was Connor. He was back to taunting her again. He had really been told her new address and he thought that resorting to stalking and frightening her again- after almost putting her into a coma- was a good choice. He thought he had a right to send her stupid flowers and a worrisome card.

He knew. He was getting bold because he knew the police wouldn't do anything about this. He would play it off as him being kind after seeing (Y/n) at the reunion. He was going to get away with it because the restraining order didn't say he couldn't intimidate her by sending her things, and this was something innocent.

The flowers may have looked innocent, but they were sending (Y/n)'s blood skyrocketing while her heart dropped down to the pit of her stomach and she felt like she was either going to collapse or be sick.

She wasn't sure how long she had been stood there, but it was long enough for tears to start rolling down her cheeks and her body to turn completely numb.

Her body felt like it had turned to stone when she tried to force herself to move and leave the hallway where she had become a statue. Her feet were heavy and dragged against the floor and her knees tremored as she headed back into the kitchen.

"Where'd you get those?" A smile formed on Evan's lips as he moved the frying pan to the back of the cooker that he had now turned off since the food was ready.

He tossed the tea towel on the counter and grinned as he turned to face (Y/n) and tried to peer closer to the flowers in her arms. Had she ordered those for herself or to give to someone? Had Eddie ordered them? That didn't seem likely, he wasn't keen on flowers, chocolates were more his style.

But the smile on Evan's face started to falter when (Y/n) didn't say anything, and he realised she didn't look pleased or delighted.

She looked like she had seen a ghost.

His features pulled into a frown and he held his breath when (Y/n) walked straight past him as if she hadn't heard him or didn't even know he existed.

Evan was quick to move and follow after (Y/n) when she walked through the kitchen and straight out the back door. Was she going to plant them in the garden? They were stemmed, snipped flowers, not bulbs or a bush, they couldn't really be planted into the ground or kept outside for very long.

"Baby, what're you doing?"

He headed out the back door after her but Evan's feet barely touched the ground before he suddenly recoiled in on himself and jumped back towards the door.

His eyes bulged from their sockets and his muscles went stuff when he watched (Y/n) suddenly thrash the bouquet against the wall of the house. A flurry of blood red petals rained down against the bricks and scattered along the floor. Some broken, some torn and others perfectly in tact, laid on the floor like petals scattered at a wedding.

He heard the quiet whimper that was followed by a cry as (Y/n) held the stems in both hands and swung them like a tennis racket until the blossoming flowers were breaking. Their stems snapped like thin twigs, the heads broke and became decapitated and a backlash of petals spurted at (Y/n), but she didn't seem to care.

Deep shuddering breaths left her lips and her eyes snapped closed, trying in vain to stop the tears that were cascading down her face mirroring the petals she was scattering and breaking apart.

"Baby, baby stop! Hey, what's happening?" Evan broke out of his shocked state and lunged forward to bind his arms around (Y/n)'s waist.

He tried to pull her away from the wall to get her to stop so she switched tactics. With a shuddering scream, she launched what was left of the stems down on the ground and pushed back into Evan so she could bash her bare feet against them. Not caring about the thorns that would cut into the soles of her feet.

Taking a deep breath, Evan tilted his chest back so he was lifting (Y/n) up from her feet, reclining her back against his chest so she couldn't bash her feet into the thorns and hurt herself any more.

The movement clearly disorientated (Y/n) but it did nothing to stop the quiet cries from leaving her lips. Her head lolled back until it was resting against Evan's shoulder and her trembling hands moved to down to clasp around Evan's forearms, clinging to him like he was her lifeline and she thought she might die without him.

Her knees coiled up leaving Evan holding all of her weight from the floor, not that he minded or cared at all. He simply tightened his arms around her middle, deadlocking her against him.

A rendition of "Okay, okay," left his lips as he twisted to the left and climbed back up the step to get inside the kitchen, (Y/n) still writhing in his arms.

As soon as he got her inside, he stumbled forward when (Y/n) leant forward and writhed to flop out of his embrace. She sank down to her knees on the cold floor that was surprisingly soothing against her skin that now felt like it was burning up.

She felt Evan crouching down behind her, his knees pressing into her hips as he curved around her like a security blanket. He was worried. He had no idea what was happening or why she was suddenly going into such a distressed, panicked state.

His hands found her arms but he paused when (Y/n) pushed back into his chest and wafted her right hand out behind her to try and hand him something.

It was a slip of paper.

(Y/n) knew the moment Evan read the flower card because she felt his chest puff out and become tense behind her and she could practically feel him breathing fire down the side of her neck.

"Was he here? Was he outside-" Evan's ramblings were cut off by the shake of (Y/n)'s head.

Connor hadn't been stupid enough to hand-deliver the flowers, even if he was bold enough to do something like this. But Evan wouldn't put it past him to be stood on the street corner, watching and waiting for (Y/n)'s reaction.

"I didn't tell the police I moved, because- because I knew, I knew he'd do something. Now he knows where to find me."

Her head bent forward and her hands came up to scratch against her scalp and knit her fingers into her hair, tugging on the strands until her skin began to burn.

This was why. This was exactly the reason why she never updated the police when she moved. She didn't want Connor to know where to find her and have that hold over her. He was going to keep doing this because he knew he could get away with it. They couldn't prove he was doing this and even if they did, what could they charge him with? Sending flowers wasn't a crime and the message was cryptically threatening. He was going to keep getting away with tormenting (Y/n) and her family.

Tears burned into her face like acid rain and (Y/n) found herself gasping for breath. Until Evan moved.

His chest merged with her back once again and when his arms enveloped around her, his hands settled on her wrists which he carefully pulled down so her hands were no longer in her hair. He slid his fingertips up her arms until he could slide his fingers into hers, entwining their hands while he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and started to hush and breathe against her skin.

She wasn't quite sure which one of them began to move first, but they ended up slowly rocking back and forth on the kitchen floor.

"He's not going to hurt you again, we won't let him. I swear."

***

Leaning forwards, (Y/n) looped her arms loosely around Eddie's neck and smiled tiredly as she nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder and cosied up into his side. Her legs curled up beneath her and she leaned more onto his thigh, watching as a grin spread across his face at how she was now hanging off of him; a sense of closeness that he loved.

Her eyes fell closed as she stayed resting against Eddie who was arched forward a little on the sofa so he could try and concentrate. He was trying to beat Evan and Chris at a video game, especially considering Evan currently held the winning streak.

Eddie managed to sneak a glance to his left and look down at (Y/n), a grin still pulling at his lips before he glanced back to the tv. His back was aching from being hunched forward for so long, and his hips were starting to ache with having Chris sat between his legs on the floor in front of the sofa. While Evan was sat on Eddie's right, curled up against the arm rest in a position that looked uncomfortable but somehow Evan had been sat like that for an hour now.

Eddie murmured a soft "You okay?" and turned to press a kiss against (Y/n)'s hair while he tried to keep his eyes on the screen. He felt her hum against his neck, causing him to shiver, but he leant forward a bit more and reached one quick hand out to swipe through the notifications on his phone on the coffee table.

Just like he thought. He found himself sighing when he looked at the notifications on his phone from her Dexcom app.

"Mi amor, go get a drink. You're levels are dropping again."

Her levels had been rather up and down today. One minute they had all been asleep in bed early this morning and the next Evan was waking up from the notifications on his phone, and (Y/n) was trembling and sweating, going into a fast hypo.

And before they'd even sat down to have lunch when they had all been out this morning, (Y/n) was fidgeting and having blurred vision and needing an insulin injection when her sugar levels rose high.

Now they were dropping again. Eddie hoped it was because they were waiting to eat and once she ate and had her insulin, her levels would sort themselves out again without any further trouble.

(Y/n) murmured something incoherent into Eddie's neck and leant against him a little more, tightening her arms around his neck as she rested her knees on his thigh and glued herself into his side.

Slouching back into the sofa, Evan narrowed his eyes and glanced to the left as he reached his arm out behind Eddie to give (Y/n)'s shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Baby you okay?" He nudged her shoulder a little and glided his hand up to brush along her neck and jaw which caused (Y/n) to smile, despite how she still had her eyes closed. She tried to nod and show them she was alright, she just felt a bit dizzy and sluggish which was a normal response to her levels dropping. She just didn't want to move yet.

When Eddie muttered "Go get some sugar." In that quiet but stern tone, (Y/n) sighed into his shoulder and unwound her arms from his neck.

Sitting up properly made her head loll back and forth and she had to take a second to gather her senses as her head felt too heavy to hold up and she was starting to feel shaky. Her hand moved to Eddie's thigh and she pushed herself up onto quaking knees and rounded the back of the sofa.

Her movements felt sluggish and slow but she headed out of the living room, just getting into the hallway when an abrupt knock at the door sounded.

A weak "I got it," called past her lips as she changed direction and headed left, aiming for the front door.

(Y/n) barely got the door open before a frown etched into her features and she leaned against the door, looking around in confusion. No one was there. Her grip tightened around the handle and she tilted forward, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her when she noticed a delivery van parked on the front.

The driver gave a stiff wave before climbing in the van, clearly he didn't have time to stop or even get a signature for whatever he was delivering. (Y/n) glanced down to see what parcel had been left on the doorstep but looking down made her head spin for more reasons than one.

Flowers.

More flowers had been dumped on the doorstep, by a different florist to last time.

This made the third bunch (Y/n) had received. First blood red roses, then a mixture of red and yellow roses- both from the same florist, and both with cards on. The second card had read:

Have you missed me? <3

And that message alone had made (Y/n) feel sick. She chucked the flowers straight in the bin but kept the cards, Eddie said to keep them in case they had to show Athena what Connor was up to.

This time it was a bunch of daisies, laid on the doorstep as clearly the delivery driver had a rush on and couldn't be bothered to wait or hand them over.

Why was he doing this? Why did he think sending flowers was going to make a difference, or did he know it was going to upset (Y/n) and therefore he kept doing it? She couldn't work out whether Connor was sending them because he thought they had some sweet, blossoming relationship together, or if he knew he was being malicious and he was doing this to be cruel.

It was hard to tell whether the shaking in her system was because of fear or the oncoming hypo as she crouched down and carefully prized the envelope free from the middle of the small bouquet.

She tore open the clear white envelope and prized out the lilac paper, trying her best to clear her mind and get her vision back into focus so she could read whatever sick message Connor had decided to write this time.

I'll catch you later, sugar. <3

Pins and needles swarmed through (Y/n)'s limbs and caused her hands to feel cold and numb. She couldn't move her fingers or drop the paper in her hands or even coil her arms towards her chest. She couldn't do anything but stare at those words that sounded more like a threat than any of the other things Connor had ever said or sent to her.

"Baby who is it?" Eddie's voice barely registered in (Y/n)'s ears and when she felt his hands on her arms, it was as if she was losing all her energy and momentum.

Eddie's hands left her arms in favour of binding his arm around her middle when he felt how badly she was trembling. And his right arm curved around the top of hers so he could take the paper from her hands which he almost crumpled in his grip when he read those little words.

(Y/n) didn't register that Eddie was turning her to the side, and she didn't hear him calling Evan's name either. She felt like she was in a trance, her vision was cutting out and her hearing had switched off. He body wasn't cooperating with her.

She stayed motionless as Eddie let go of her and stepped out onto the front, pausing only to grab the flowers before he marched down the drive towards the front.

A flurry of curse words left Eddie's lips as he tossed the bouquet into the middle of the road. Watching with a sense of glee and hatred as the pure white petals scattered across the tarmac with a spray of pollen and the stems snapped at odd angles like broken bones.

He hoped Connor was watching. He hoped that creep was somewhere nearby, seeing this reaction and seeing how his little gift was received. He hoped Connor would be furious, that he would come and approach the house so they could call the police and get him arrested.

Eddie wanted to see him passing by so he could grab the little tormenter and unleash some anger on him. If the police wouldn't do anything to keep them safe and keep Connor away, then Eddie wasn't opposed to doing it himself.

But as Eddie turned around and heaved through each breath, his shoulders slumped and he bolted back up the drive just as (Y/n) caved.

Her knees gave way and she hit the floor with a bang just as Evan sped into the hallway and Eddie stumbled back through the door which he slammed shut behind him.

Fury burned within his eyes that locked with Evan, who didn't have to ask to know what had happened when he watched Eddie toss the little piece of card to the floor. Another set of flowers. Another cryptic threat. Another attempt to try and get to (Y/n). How long would it be before he turned up on their doorstep in person? How long before he tried to grab (Y/n) in the street and harm her again?

Venom flooded Eddie's voice as his stomach twisted in knots. "If he does this again I'll kill him."

[hy6erion]

I really love your Jayce being jealous + overstimulation request you had done! Can I request the same prompt for Viktor, JayVik, Silco, and Ekko please?

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 + 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤, 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨, 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 (𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫

⇢ 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

He saw the way someone else touched your arm. The way you smiled too long. Viktor doesn’t throw tantrums—but he’s meticulous, quiet, and when he gets like this… you know you’re not leaving the bed for a while.

You were halfway through undressing when he pulled your wrist—not roughly, but firm enough that your breath caught. The door clicked shut behind him.

“You seemed… entertained tonight.” His voice was even, but the pause before entertained made something low in your stomach tighten.

You glanced at him, saw the way he set his cane aside. The way he watched you. Slow. Dissecting. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make your pulse pick up. He never did.

“I was just talking,” you say.

“Mm.” He steps forward. “That’s not how it looked.”

And then he’s kissing you—not hard, not soft. Just deliberate. He crowds you back toward the bed with frustrating control, lips brushing yours, tongue sliding in slow and calculated. No rush. Just steady pressure and the heat of his body following yours down until your back hits the sheets.

His hands are warm, decisive, slipping between your thighs as he kneels. You’re already wet and he hasn’t done anything yet. You feel ridiculous.

Fingers drag through your slick. He watches your face, eyes low-lidded behind those lenses.

“Still thinking about him?” he murmurs.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when two fingers slide in all at once—curling just right, just deep enough to drag a breathy noise out of you. His rhythm is smooth, practiced, knuckles grazing in slow, perfect strokes that make your legs shake already.

But he doesn’t stop there. His thumb circles your clit—soft at first, then faster, tighter.

“Keep your legs open.”

You try. You really do. But the buildup’s fast—too fast—and when your body tenses, he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just keeps fucking into you with those fingers, precise and relentless.

“Vik—fuck, wait—”

“No.”

You come once. Clenching down around him, hips twitching.

But his mouth just brushes your inner thigh and he keeps going. Keeps his fingers moving in the same steady rhythm like he’s tuning an instrument. Making sure every part of you remembers who you actually belong to.

When your back arches off the bed a second time, he still doesn’t stop.

“Good,” he mutters, eyes locked on the way your body trembles. “Again.”

⇢ 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

You saw her looking at him. Laughing a little too long at something he said. Touching his arm like she had any right. And Viktor—sweet, oblivious Viktor—had no idea. That’s fine. You’ll remind him who he belongs to.

You barely close the door behind you before you’ve got him against it. Your fingers twist in his shirt, dragging him down for a kiss that doesn’t ask. It takes.

He kisses back, caught off guard, hands fumbling for your hips, breath sharp. “Did I—do something?”

You laugh once, low in your throat, pulling his shirt loose, teeth dragging along his jaw.

“Oh, not you,” you murmur. “Her.”

Viktor’s brows pinch. Confused. “Who—”

You cut him off with your mouth again. Your hands push him backward toward the bed until he sits, eyes wide, already flushed. You straddle his lap, grinding just enough to feel him harden beneath you.

“She touched your arm,” you mutter against his neck. “You didn’t even notice.”

“I—”

“But I did.”

You grab his wrists, pinning them to the bed above his head. His pupils dilate. He’s breathing harder now, but he doesn’t fight it.

“You’re not allowed to be that fucking pretty,” you whisper against his ear, biting just enough to make him twitch. “It’s not fair.”

He moans—soft and helpless—as you grind down, slow and steady. Your hands tighten on his wrists.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you tonight,” you whisper, teeth dragging over his throat. “You don’t get to come until you’re begging. Understand?”

He nods. Too fast. You press your hips down harder, and his head falls back with a gasp.

You’re in control. Every grind. Every kiss. Every desperate sound he makes into your neck. You ride him slow and deep, pinning his wrists the whole time, whispering filth in his ear until his thighs shake, eyes fluttering.

And when you finally let him finish—only after your second orgasm—you stay on top of him, still moving, watching him squirm, overstimulated and needy and panting under you.

Just to make sure he remembers.

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤

⇢ 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯

You didn't mean to flirt. You didn't even realize you were doing it—but Jayce saw it. Viktor heard it. Now you're pinned between the two of them, body burning from both ends, and they've got something to prove.

Jayce is behind you. Viktor's in front. And you? You're not going anywhere.

"Look at me," Viktor says, voice calm but sharp. "I want to see your face while he fucks you."

Jayce's hand is on your waist, his breath hot against the back of your neck. He's already inside you-slow, deliberate thrusts that push you forward onto Viktor's chest. Every movement forces a gasp out of you, muffled against his skin.

"I didn't do anything," you manage to choke out.

Jayce just laughs. "That's not what it looked like."

Viktor's fingers tilt your chin up. His gaze is steady, unforgiving. "You smiled at him like that. Same as you smile at us."

Jayce snaps his hips forward-harder this time-and you jolt. A moan slips out before you can stop it.

Viktor catches it with his mouth. He kisses you like he's trying to swallow the sound, tongue sliding in deep, slow, so fucking controlled. His hand is between your legs now, fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit with mechanical precision.

"She's already close," he mutters against your lips.

Jayce groans. "Good."

You try to hold on. Try not to give in too fast. But Jayce is fucking you hard now, thighs slapping yours, and Viktor won't let up with his fingers. Their rhythm is maddening-perfectly synced, no mercy.

Your first orgasm rips through you. And they don't stop.

Jayce doesn't slow down, arms braced tight around your waist, grunting as he drives into you again and again. Viktor kisses you through every twitch and shake, fingers never leaving your clit, relentless in their pressure.

By the second climax, your voice is wrecked. Your legs are trembling.

"I-can't-"

Jayce leans in close to your ear, voice low, rough.

"You can. One more."

Viktor's mouth is at your throat. "One more for me, love."

You don't even remember the third one.

Just heat, pressure, the sounds of skin and breath and the low, hungry noises they both make when you fall apart for them. Again.

And still-Jayce's grip doesn't loosen.

Viktor's hand doesn't still.

Because neither of them is finished with you yet.

⇢ 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤, 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫

They were both laughing too much at her joke. Jayce with that easy charm, Viktor leaning in a little too close. Maybe they didn’t notice it—but you did. And you’re going to remind them who gets to have them begging.

Jayce has always been eager with his hands. Viktor, less so—until you push him hard enough. And tonight, you’re not pulling any punches.

You’ve got Jayce on his back, flushed, panting, wrists pinned above his head. Viktor kneels at the edge of the bed, flushed down to his chest, lips parted, watching you with something like reverence—and something hungrier than that.

“You’re so fucking easy,” you murmur against Jayce’s throat, dragging your nails down his ribs, savoring the way his body arches under you. “Laughing at anything with tits and a decent smile.”

He groans, hips jerking.

Viktor lets out a low breath. “You know that’s not—”

You cut him off with a sharp glance.

“Don’t worry, I’m not forgetting you either,” you say. “You smiled at her like she meant something.”

You pull Viktor forward by the collar, fingers wrapping around his throat just enough to make him swallow. He goes quiet fast. They both do.

Jayce is rock hard, twitching against your thigh, and you reach down, stroking him once—then twice—just to hear him whimper.

“You get to come when I say.”

He nods, breathless.

You push Viktor down next to him and climb on top, making them watch as you ride Jayce, slow and grinding, every movement deliberate. Viktor’s hand curls against the sheets—he’s hard, untouched, watching your mouth open around a moan you don’t even try to hold back.

You lean in close, pressing your lips to Viktor’s ear.

“You get your turn after he begs me.”

Viktor groans—low and needy—and Jayce’s whole body is trembling under you. He’s close. Too close.

“Don’t come,” you whisper.

“I—I can’t—” he pants.

He does anyway.

You pull off, slow, deliberate, leaving him shaking.

Then you turn to Viktor, grabbing his jaw.

“Your turn.”

And he shudders. Because he knows you’re going to take your time with him. Make him say your name over and over until he forgets how anyone else ever made him feel anything.

𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨

⇢ 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

He watched you flirt with someone you thought was harmless. Just a little too friendly. Ekko didn’t say anything at the time. But now? He’s got you on your back, legs shaking, and he’s not letting up.

Ekko’s mouth is on your thigh, breath hot against sensitive skin, fingers digging into your hips like he’s holding back from something dangerous.

“You think he could do this to you?” he mutters, voice low and ragged.

You’re already soaked—shaking from the second time he made you come on his fingers alone. But he hasn’t stopped. Won’t stop.

“Ekko—fuck—please—”

“Nah.” He licks a slow stripe up your slit, tongue pressing into you deep enough to make your hips twitch. “You had so much to say to him earlier. So smiley. So sweet. Where’s that energy now?”

His hand spreads you wider. Fingers slip back inside—deeper, rougher this time—and his mouth is right there again, lips slick with you as he groans low against your skin.

“You’re not gonna think about him when I’m done with you,” he grits out. “All you’re gonna feel is this.”

You clench around his fingers, thighs trembling—and then it hits. Your third orgasm rips through you fast, body writhing under him, too much, too soon—but Ekko doesn’t stop.

He grins into it.

“You’re still squirming,” he teases. “Guess that means I’m not done.”

He keeps going until your moans turn to gasps, until your nails scrape into his shoulders and your voice is hoarse from begging. And when he finally pulls back, face wet, eyes half-lidded, all he says is:

“Mine.”

⇢ 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨, 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

He swears the other girl’s “just a friend.” But she touched his chest. Laughed at every joke. Tried too hard to be close. And Ekko? Didn’t push her away fast enough. You’re not mad. Just… motivated.

Ekko’s wrists are pinned above his head, back arched off the mattress. His mouth is open, chest heaving—completely at your mercy.

You’ve got him spread under you, thighs shaking, pupils blown wide as you roll your hips slow and tight. He’s deep—so deep—and you don’t let up.

“You didn’t tell her to back off.”

He groans, breath stuttering. “She—she wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” You shift your angle, dragging a desperate whine out of him. “Wasn’t touching you on purpose?”

He chokes on a moan, trying to buck up. You plant your hands on his chest, holding him down.

“You don’t get to touch me until you learn who you fucking belong to.”

You clench hard around him and his head falls back against the pillow, curls damp with sweat, breath catching in his throat.

“I do—I know—I swear—”

“Then prove it.”

You move faster now—deliberate, controlled, working him right to the edge again and again. Each time he starts to fall over the edge, you stop. Grind just slow enough to pull him back. His arms flex against your grip but he doesn’t fight you. Won’t. He wants this. Wants you in control.

When you finally let him come, it’s a mess—his whole body going rigid, moaning your name like a confession. You ride it out, overstimulating him until he’s gasping under you, eyes rolling back, too wrecked to speak.

You lean down, lips brushing his ear.

“Next time she touches you, think about this. Think about how it felt when I fucked you until you forgot her name.”

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨

⇢ 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭

You were too friendly with someone at the club tonight. Now? You’re on your knees—and he’s going to keep you there.

He doesn’t shove you down. Doesn’t have to.

Just a slow, sharp tug at your hair as he guides you to your knees in front of him, his belt clinking softly in the quiet room.

“You had a lot to say to him tonight.” His voice is low, deliberate. A rasp that slides against your nerves like a knife against silk. “Thought you’d forgotten who you came here with.”

You open your mouth to answer but he’s already stroking himself—long, slow pulls—making you watch.

The head of his cock glistens, flushed dark, and when he finally lets you get close enough to taste, he doesn’t ease you into it. He drags the thick weight of it over your lips first, smearing precum across your mouth.

“Open.”

You do.

He presses in—slow at first, enough for you to feel the stretch of him, the weight of his gaze never leaving your face. His hand stays tangled in your hair, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth almost affectionately.

Almost.

The first thrust is shallow, testing, but he doesn’t stay gentle. Each roll of his hips forces you to take more, your throat tightening around him as he pushes deeper.

“That’s better,” he murmurs. “So much quieter like this.”

You whimper, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, breathing through your nose as he fucks your mouth with devastating control. He pulls out almost completely before driving back in—again and again—his breath hitching only slightly when you moan around him.

It’s messy. It’s rough. And he doesn’t let you stop.

Even when your eyes are glassy and your jaw aches, he holds you there, praising you in that low, wrecked voice:

“Take it. Be good for me. Show me you still know who you belong to.”

When he finally comes—deep in your throat, hips stuttering against your lips—he holds you there a moment longer, groaning rough and low as you swallow around him.

Only when he’s sure you’ve taken every drop does he release you, thumb wiping the spit and tears from your flushed face, gaze sharp.

“Now. Try smiling at someone else.”

⇢ 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠)

You didn’t like the way that woman put her hand on his arm. Her smile. Silco brushed it off—but you didn’t. Tonight, you’re going to remind him exactly who makes him lose control. And it’s not her.

Silco’s sharp tongue goes suspiciously quiet once you’ve pushed him back into the leather chair, hands braced against his thighs.

You kneel between his legs, slow, deliberate, letting your nails scrape along the inside of his thighs just enough to make his breath catch.

“What?” you murmur, teasing the bulge in his trousers. “Nothing to say?”

His jaw flexes—tight, controlled—but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare.

You take your time. Fingertips dragging over the outline of his cock through the fabric, feeling him twitch under the lightest pressure. When you finally free him, he’s already half-hard, flushed and heavy against your palm.

You could be kind. You could sink down and swallow him deep. But you don’t. Not yet.

Instead, you trace the underside of his cock with your tongue—just the tip of it—feeling him pulse under the delicate flicks. Every muscle in his legs tenses.

“You let her touch you,” you whisper, breath hot against his sensitive skin. “Let her laugh at everything you said.”

He exhales through his nose, hands clenching into fists against the chair.

“And you liked it.”

You wrap your lips around just the head, suckling lightly, tongue flicking the slit until he curses under his breath—an ugly, bitten-off sound.

You back off with a wet pop, grinning.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure you remember who takes care of you.”

This time you take him deeper—slow, stretching your throat around him inch by inch until your nose brushes his stomach. His hips jerk despite himself, breath ragged, chest heaving.

But you don’t stay. You pull back, leaving him throbbing and wet, cock twitching in the cold air.

You repeat the pattern—tease, taste, pull away—until he’s panting, flushed dark to his ears, biting his lip hard enough to leave marks.

When you finally let him fuck into your mouth, you hold him right at the edge, letting the weight of his need break down the last of that careful control he wears like armor.

And when he finally comes—spilling deep down your throat, hips jerking helplessly—you stay kneeling, eyes locked on his ruined, desperate face.

That look? That helpless shudder?

No one else gets to see it but you.

[bluewxrld07]

GUESS (Jack Hughes)

Summary: Jack just can't keep his eyes off of his best friend

jack Hughes x Bisexualfemale!reader

Warning(s): dirty talk, situationship, make-out sesh, oral (f receiving) bathroom sex, groping/touching, Unprotected sex, Hair pulling, choking, swings both ways (our girl is bi-sexual ok)

"Girl if you don't hurry the fuck up, we're going to be stuck waiting in that damn line!" Marley yells out. Y/N rolls her eyes as she sprays the final portion of her setting spray to her face.

"First off, the boys would not ditch us like that. Second of all, you act like I can't get us in the back way." Y/N giggles as she turns off the bathroom light.

Marley turns the music off while they grab their things, the other two WAGs standing by the front door.

"Let's get this shit on the road," Y/N sings aloud dancing over towards the door as the girls cheer in agreement.

"Damn you're looking so good. No wonder Jack is so obsessed with you." Nico's fiancé chuckles, earning an air kiss from Y/N. "He definitely doesn't, but I get what you mean."

Y/N wore a pair of dark-washed baggier low rise jeans, where her panties could be seen partly peeking out, with a corset spaghetti strapped top, a pair of heels adorning her feet.

The girls all turn to look at her as they exit the apartment building. "You are acting so oblivious. Why do you think he stays single?" Marley calls out, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Because the boy's a whore. Next," she chuckles.

"I'm so telling him you said that!" Maya yells from the front of the group as they got closer to the Uber.

Y/N shrugs. "I'll say to his face. Just wait."

The girls all jam out in the car as the Uber drove, talking about absolute nonsense. It was nights like these that they looked forward to in the offseason. Especially when it was fresh in the offseason, because it was kind of a send-off before they all went out of state for the summer.

Y/N would be joining the boys in Michigan for the summer, doing her work remotely from the lake on a boat. It was her favorite part of the year if she had to admit.

The Uber soon comes to a halt, the sun completely set and the girls see the group of boys standing in front of the entrance conversing.

They all pile out one by one, little cheers and hums as they go to greet their men. Marley helps Y/N out of the car, the girls both already feeling the alcohol buzz from their pregame.

Jack's eyes did a double take when she came out of the car, seeing her hips sway to the beats coming from inside the club as she pushes her accessory sunglasses down the tip of her nose to look at Marley in the eyes with a smile.

Once Y/N's eyes found Jack's he smirks over at her, watching her walk slowly over towards him pointing. "You sir," she starts while grabbing his face lightly in her hand and shaking it side to side lightly. "Are a whore." she chuckles, making him groan and roll his eyes playfully.

She turns around and looks over at Nico's girl. "Told you I would say it to his face!"

"I'm not a whore first off," Jack squeaks out, causing them to look at him. "I just like women is all." he says, earning a few giggles from the group.

Y/N gives him a look through her glasses. "I do too, but seriously cool it." she jokes, fanning him.

Jack takes her waist into his hands, pulling her close to him as he looks down at her. "Yeah yeah we know. You've managed to steal all of the women I was hitting on," he chuckles. "But I still haven't pulled you. Maybe I can make you change your ways."

Y/N just grins at him. "Keep telling yourself that," she says, tapping his cheek a few times. Jack's jaw drops, and she mocks his face. "I need to spice it up every so often, Jacky boy."

He rolls his eyes as they all enter the club, Y/N stopping in her tracks to turn and face him while walking backwards. "It seems like you just wanna know what I've got going on down there."

Jack shrugs and raises a brow as he helps lead her through the crowd with their group. "Is it the pair I got you?"

Y/N pouts playfully and tilts her head. "I don't know what you mean." she teases before turning back around and going to order her drink.

Jack's eyes never left her figure, biting his lip from smirking as she stand on her heeled tip toes to get the bartender's attention. The way her curves accentuated in the outfit she supported, and he especially didn't skim past the small tattoo of a shark on her lower back.

He walked up behind her, hand finding the small of her back. "Put it on my tab," he says as he hands the Bartender his card before Y/N can. Y/N's head whips towards him with a glare.

He scoffs playfully and caresses her lower back. "I always do this, don't be so surprised anymore." he says as he thanks the bartender for their drinks, handing her hers.

Y/N puts her sunglasses into the small purse she brought along, taking a sip of her drink as the pair goes to find their group.

Once they find them secluded in their spot for the evening, Y/N is pulled over by the girls to go out and dance while Jack stands and talks with the boys.

Before she can get far, Jack grabs her arm to turn her around which causes her to frown as she looks at him. He holds a hands out signaling for her to hand him her purse.

She smiles gratefully as she passes it to him before returning to join the girls.

His eyes find her body automatically in the crowd a while later, seeing her sway with girls both in front and behind her as they danced against one another. He felt his breath hitch as he watches her lips connect with Marley's neck playfully.

This was gonna be a long night.

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

Y/N slams down the glass onto the countertop, swallowing the cherry bomb shot Maya bought for the group, her mind buzzing as the music bumped.

Her body finds its way back out onto the dance floor, taking Maya's hand into her as they danced together.

All of the girls were still on the dance floor, some were now swaying and dancing with their guys while the select few had found some guys to dance with.

Maya and Y/N danced with one another as they both hear GUESS come through the speakers. They both cheered together as they danced along one another while singing the lyrics.

Y/N turns around so her back was grinding against Maya's front, her hands feeling up her body with a smirk as she sang the lyrics.

Little did she know that Jack's eyes couldn't leave her figure, wanting nothing more to be the one behind her instead of Maya. He watches as she sang along to Billie's verse of the song, not missing how she bites her lip playfully.

She must've felt his stare because her eyes instantly find his across the club, immediately making her smirk at his face that was stuck in awe.

Her smile widens as she raises a finger to motion for him to come to her, the boy not wasting a second to set his stuff down at the table and make his way towards her.

Once he's closer to her he stalks up to her slowly like she's prey, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N reaches over to him to pull him closer to her by his jaw, her finger running over his bottom lip that was once being bit by his teeth.

Y/N pulls his face down to hers as she feels both Jack and Maya grind against her, letting Jack's lips brush against hers as she sang the lyrics.

"I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit, pull it to the side and get all up in it. Kiss it, bite it, can I fit it, Maya likes boys but she knows I'd hit it" she sings out, making Jack groan.

Jack was about to give her shit, saying something smart about how much he wants her, but before he can she beats him to it as her eyes lock into his.

"Jacky call me if you're with it," she says, making his eyes widen and her smile devilishly. The beat drops, causing Y/N to lean her head back against Maya's shoulders as they jumped and swayed to the song, Jack feeling his pants tighten as he slowly takes her away from Maya.

Maya smirks at Jack with a knowing look, mouthing a 'wear protection' as she takes the hand of the guy she had been getting close to throughout the night.

Y/N's head lifts up slowly as her eyes open to look at Jack while she ground herself against him.

Jack turns her around to have her back against his front, his hands going into the hem of her jeans to find the hem of her black lace panties.

"I knew it was the pair I bought you," he says into her ear causing her to chuckle and nod. "I always wear the ones you got me when we go out. In hopes you'll finally get your head out of your ass and be the one who takes them off of me."

Jack's hands still and he looks down at her. She peers up to look at him behind her, seeing his eyes darken.

Jack shakes his head and chuckles darkly. "You're trouble. Absolute trouble, honey." he says before taking her throat into his large hand, causing her head to go all the way back so his lips can meet hers.

His other hand starts playing with the hem of her panties, running his fingers along the lace as he get close to her front.

Y/N sighs into the kiss, loving how his tongue felt against hers.

The kissy was messy, tongues and teeth clashing as he gripped her throat in a possessive manner. She had never felt more turned on by Jack than she did in that very moment.

Once they broke it, Jack could feel her panting against his lips.

"I need you," she whimpers. "Now Jack."

He nods as he guides her away from the dance floor and towards the unisex bathrooms down the hall.

Y/N pushes one of the doors open, Jack pushing her inside of it as he turns around to shut and lock it. As soon as the door clicks to signal it's locked, he stalks up to Y/N and doesn't waste any time slamming his lips back onto hers.

He backs her over to the countertop, her hips meeting the cool feeing of the side of the sink as she gasps at the feeling. Jack's hands roamed her body like it was his job, her hands moving to his head to throw his hat off of his head.

He chuckles. "Hey that's my favorite hat," he says between kisses, causing her to smile. "I think you'll like feeling this more." she says as she harshly tugs on his locks. He lets out a groan as she takes the initiative and pushes her tongue into his mouth, her hips meeting his as they let out groans and sighs.

Jack takes her hips and props her onto the counter to stand between her legs, immediately taking the opportunity to grind harshly against her core. "You're insatiable, Y/N." He growls against her lips.

Y/N lets out a mixture of a moan and gasp, letting her head fall back while Jack takes that moment to trail his lips down her jaw to her neck. He bites and licks and kisses wherever he can, groaning at how good she feels against his crotch.

Y/N grinds herself against him, her hands leaving his hair to trail their way down his chest and towards the hem of his shirt. She travels underneath his shirt, her nails scratching against his abdomen, smiling when she feels his goosebumps rise.

Her hands round behind him to grab onto his hips to help him grind more into her, making him growl into her neck.

"Careful pretty. You may be the dominant one with others, but it's me who you're with," he says, pulling back and grabbing her hands. She bites her lips as she looks into his eyes.

"I'd love to make you beg, Hughes," she says, making Jack's eyes roll back for a second.

He looks back down at her and shakes his head. "Maybe one day, pretty." he says, before he manhandles her body to stand, turn around and bend over the countertop.

She finds his eyes in the mirror, seeing him smirk. "But that won't be tonight," is all he says before he disappears behind her, his hands wrapping around to unbutton her jeans and drag them down her legs along with her panties.

Jack can see the slickness running down her legs, causing him to lick his lips. He uses both of his hands to push her thighs open as he kisses both side on the inner parts. "You keep yourself upright, you got that? You so much as move or grind on my face, I'm stopping this whole thing." he says against her legs.

She sighs at the feeling, but then he slaps her pussy which causes her to let out a loud moan. "Answer me, Y/N."

"Fuck, yes Jack!" she growls out with a low groan. He smirks before he places a kiss on her clit.

"Such a good girl, baby. Now let me have my dinner," he says before he dives into the mess between her legs. Her hands immediately go to reach for the edges of the counter to prevent her legs from giving out, a loud moan leaving her lips as she feels his tongue lick between her folds and graze her hole.

"Yes yes yes," she moans out as Jack hums between her thighs while he sucks on her clit harshly.

As Jack laps and sucks at her pussy, she's trying so hard to keep herself upright and from grinding along his face. She couldn't wait for the day she could ride his face, and take the dominance from him that time. She'd show him who exactly is in charge.

But she will let him win. For now.

She felt the knot coiling in her stomach, causing her gasps and moans to become more frequent and rapid. "Jack fuck I'm so close," she whimpers out as she hears him sucking on her. "Make a mess on my face, baby." he says as he hums on her sensitive bud.

She moans out his name as the coil finally bursts, Jack not wasting a second to lap up whatever he could get while making sure he didn't spill a drop of her release.

He kisses her clit one more time before standing up behind her, his eyes finding her own in the mirror. "You got one more in you, pretty?"

She just smirks. "I can go all night, Jacky boy." she says slyly, earning a dark chuckle from the boy as he began to unbutton his pants.

"Good, because we're just getting started." he says before pumping his member a few times. He looks at her once more, seeing her smile back at him as she reached behind herself to grab him and stick his tip through her entrance.

They both let out a sigh at the feeling, Jack's hands going to the low of her back as he watches himself slowly ease into her.

"You feel so good, Jack, fuck."

"Thaaaat's it baby, so good. So tight." he moans out as he pulls out and slams back into her. She screams out his name at the harsh contact, slowly losing her voice as he picks up his pace and rams into her.

Jack slithers his hand up her back and to the back of her neck to grip and lift her up, taking his other hand to slither up her front and grip her breasts in a harsh manner.

He looks at her through the mirror, seeing her eyes close in bliss as she tries to grab at him in anyway she can as he slams in and out of her.

"Open your eyes," he order, watching her slowly open them to look at him through the mirror. His mouth opens in awe as he holds their eye contact. "You feel what you do to me? Every single time I see you, this is all I wanna do." he moans, seeing her eyes gloss over at his words.

"I want you all to myself, Y/N." he groans into her ear. She nods, and he slides his hand from the back of her neck to her front and rubs at her clit. "How about that? You mine, Y/N? You wanna be my good girl?"

She nods. "Yes. Yes Jack." she sighs as she throws her head back and looks at him. He looks down at her with a smirk.

"Oh you have no idea what you just agreed to, sweetheart," he says before pushing her back down onto the counter, ramming hard and showing no mercy.

She screams out countless moans and gasps of his name as she took his pace, Jack's lip between his teeth. He could feel her walls spasming, signaling she was close. It caused him to reach over and grip her hair harshly while getting himself to where she was at.

"You close honey? Gonna spill all over my cock?" he moans, and she moans out a yes.

"Let it go, baby. Make a mess all over this cock." he says, watching as her body stutters and she squirts all over him. Jack pulls out of her, pulling her around and to her knees.

She looks up at him with a tired expression, but nonetheless was excited. He pulls her mouth open and pumps his cum all over her tongue that she happily takes as she looks up at him with wide eyes.

"Swallow like my good girl you are." he orders, watching her immediately listen to him and then opening her mouth to show she obeyed. He takes her chin in between his fingers.

"Better get a power up because we're just getting started tonight baby," he pants and she nods. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we're leaving."

"Yes Jack."

[brklynbxby]

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He let the silence stretch—thick, deliberate—until even the shadows seemed to quiet in reverence. His fingers curled tighter at her waist, claiming and steadying all at once. She was soft under his hands. Soft in a way that both unraveled and anchored him. His touch moved lower, thumb brushing the fabric of her dress—a teasing drag, slow and possessive. Her scent—faint floral, something her—clouded his thoughts like fog in a battlefield. “If breakfast always looks like this…” His voice came out low, rougher than he intended. That edge of hunger he always kept buried? She brought it to the surface with a damn smile. “You might convince me to stay for every damn one.”

His gaze dipped. The curve of her mouth nearly undid him. Kissed or not, it already owned parts of him he hadn’t meant to offer. He lingered there for a heartbeat, then pulled back—just enough to meet her eyes again. Unflinching. Unreadable to most. He didn’t smile. But something softer flickered at the edge of him—dangerous, devoted. Then, in a voice that barely broke above a whisper but carried the weight of an oath, he said, “I’ll give you this morning. No pretending.”

When she teased that one day he might give her a heart attack with the way he always appeared out of nowhere, a grin curled at the corner of his lips. Silent as smoke, that was his nature—engineered for it. His existence demanded unpredictability. No footstep should ever echo; no shadow should ever hint at his presence. He moved like a ghost stitched to silence, and that was the way it had to be. But this morning? It felt... unsettlingly normal. Too light. Too easy. The kind of domestic quiet that didn’t belong in his world, where every breath usually came coated in adrenaline and blood. His life had been built on the next mission, the next betrayal, the next body. There was never time for softness. Never room to pause. And yet, here he was. And she was tender in ways that cut deeper than any blade. Dangerous, in the most disarming sense. Too gentle for a life like his.

“I did sleep well, thank you,” he said with a smile, his hands sliding deliberately around the warm curve of her waist, fingers splaying against soft cotton. “Thought you'd be a snorer.” Now the air between them shifted. Waffles steamed on the plate, their sweetness curling into the air. Waffles are fluffy. “Mmm.” Coffees strong. “Mhmm.” I’m in this dress. “Mmm.” She was right—he had no excuse to run. Not with the way her eyes pinned him in place, not with the way her presence eclipsed the ghosts trailing him. He didn’t want to leave. But the call of duty had a habit of clawing through even the most perfect mornings. He just prayed that, for once, it wouldn’t. “You’re absolutely right,” he murmured, voice low and rough with restrained hunger, as he gripped her hips and lifted her onto the counter. His body fit between her thighs like they were made to meet that way—seamless, effortless. His eyes roamed her slowly, as though trying to memorize every curve before the world demanded his attention again. “And what, exactly,” he said, voice dipping to a velvet growl, “is a goddess like you doing dressed like that today?”

[blubunz]

MIDNIGHT SNACK

— stepbrother! jason todd x f! stepsister! puppy hybrid! reader x stepbrother! dick grayson

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: stepcest, oral (m! receiving), making out, porn no plot.

A/N: idk if i should do a part 2.

Dick groans, hips bucking as you eagerly take his whole cock down your throat, skilled tongue rubbing his length. He strokes your head, praises coming out of his lips so naturally it makes your tail wags.

“Good— good girl, that's it. Oh god...” He tilts his head back on the couch, eyes closing in bliss. To have his puppy sister servicing him after a long day is everything he's ever wanted. He didn't know that all he had to do was ask, and you sure are delivering it to him now.

You slobber all over his cock, drools mixing with pre cum dripping down his balls in thick globs. You sure are a messy one, but he's not complaining, you give crazy blowjobs.

“Ngh, little Jaybird taught you well, huh, sis?” Dick laughs, looking down at you. “No puppy girl can give me heads like this, you're an expert.”

You can't help but feel pride, Jason did taught you well. You sure can make any cocks throb, no one knows that all they have to do is ask.

You pick up the pace, feeling Dick's cock throbbing in your mouth. Your hands on his thighs to pull yourself up easier, nodding your head like crazy.

You look drunk on his cock, not knowing how long have you been on your knees like this. Surely Jason should be home by now, too.

Jason enters the room the moment Dick pushes your head down abruptly, almost making you gag as he cums deep down your throat, thighs shuddering by the sheer ecstasy you're giving him.

“Hi, Jaybird.” Dick grins, letting you go and you rest your head on his thigh, gulping down his loads. “I didn't know our puppy can give such good heads. Is this why you're keeping her in here? Hm?”

Jason says nothing, his helmet hold no expression as he walks closer to the both of you. Dick hold the smug smile, but he's got a lingering worry that he might have upset his brother in some way.

Jason stands behind you and roughly smacks your ass, making both you and Dick's eyes widen in surprise.

He pulls you up by your hair, then snakes down to grab your cheeks.

“Am I not good enough for you? Why is he here?” Jason asks you, head tilting a little at Dick's side.

You whimper, can't seem to find an answer, but Dick quickly does it for you.

“Chill, man. I was just visiting your place. And well, she seems lobely, and you're busy, so I figured why not have some fun with my little stepsis, hm?”

Jason stares at him silently.

“...What?” Dick asks. “Look, she's all yours, buddy. But, come on, she looks like she wants us both, yeah?”

You nod when Jason glances at you, smiling a little. “I love both of my stepbrothers.” You say, turning around as best as you could to hug Jason. “I wanna feel both of you inside me...”

His arms wrap around your hips, pulling you close gently.

“Fine.” He says, taking off the helmet. “Just this once. I'm not giving Dickhead the privilege of having you anytime he wants.”

You nod again, pressing your lips up to his as you two make out.

Dick gets off the couch and stands behind you, kissing your neck while he plays with your cunt by pulling your panties up, having you rub against it.

“One rule though, you cannot kiss her lips.” Jason says, tugging on your bottom lip, only to be responded with Dick chuckling as he gets on his knees.

“Oh, don't worry. I prefer kissing her other lips anyway.” Dick pulls your bottoms down, revealing your wet heat. He sniffs deeply, tongue sticking out to savour your taste.

Meanwhile, you're busy moaning while Jason pulls you into a lip lock, holding your head tight to his as he pours everything out into this sloppy session.

They don't even use their cocks, and yet you're getting close already, eyes rolling up and your breathing grows rapidly. But as if they can read eachother's minds, Dick and Jason stops completely, leaving you a whining mess.

You cry, pushing your ass back against Dick, while giving Jason your puppy eyes.

Jason assures you with a head pat, hands reaching down to remove his belt and unzip his pants.

“Relax, pup, we have plenty of time.”

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀GOOD BOY oscar piastri smut

⠀⠀⠀⠀my masterlist | requests are open! | more oscar!

+18. MDNI | wc: 2,6K. ─── oscar gets home knowing exactly what he wants. his girlfriend does too.

› oscar piastri x dalilah bartocci (female!oc)

› warnings: stabilished relationship, p in v, sub!oscar!!!! soft dom!oc, use of toys, overstimulation, a whole lot of praising, sweet puppy behavior from oscar.

Different couples have different dynamics. Dalilah and Oscar, for example, could switch positions in bed as easily as he does behind the wheel of a racing car.

Today is one of Oscar's favorite days.

He usually sets things off very easily, and it's just as easy for his girlfriend to catch the signal. The Aussie drops his bag right by the door, toes off his sneakers with lazy kicks, and climbs onto the couch, where Dalilah lays sprawled on her back, scrolling through TikToks.

The soft mess of her dyed curls glows in the screen’s reflection as he squeezes himself between her arms, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck, rubbing his nose all over her skin until she lets out a little hum.

"Hello, baby," she coos, the soft tone in her voice enough to send chills racing down his spine — but what really gets him is the slow sweep of her hand up and down his back. "You okay?"

"Yup," he mutters, muffled against her neck. "You smell so good..."

That's his way of asking for it.

Body rubbing against the Italian girl, breath slow and warm against her skin like the brush of a feather.

"Thanks, babyboy," Dalilah murmurs, and Oscar replies with a soft, pitiful whine.

He loves pet names. Babyboy, good boy, darling... Any of them could turn him pink-cheeked and bashful in a heartbeat.

"Tough day, huh? You seem tense," she teases gently, thin fingers tracing lazy lines across his muscles, pausing at the waistband of his pants before gliding back up the nape of his neck. A slow, promising little touch — the kind that could set the whole night spinning.

"A bit," he rasps, voice low and thick with that husky Aussie lilt, almost purring like a spoiled cat. "You fine?"

"I'm great, actually. Called Mom today, she asked about you," Dalilah answers, curling his light strands between her fingers. "Dad’s excited to see you race."

"Dad gets more excited than I do," Oscar jokes, a small grin pulling at his lips. "Did you book the hotel rooms?"

They're comfortable enough now — long enough together to call each other’s parents Mom and Dad, long enough that sprawled over each other like this, half-talking, half-touching, feels as natural as breathing.

The conversation is barely a prelude, a lazy dance before what they both know is about to happen.

"Yeah, everything’s sorted. It’s going to be a good weekend," she promises.

Oscar wishes he had the focus to care about the details, but Dalilah’s fingers are back at the nape of his neck, not just caressing this time — squeezing, softly, firmly, sending sparks racing down his spine.

A needy sound breaks from his throat before he can stop it. His body moves without thinking, grinding against her subtly, desperately — as if close will never be close enough.

"In need of something, babe?" she whispers against his ear, sweet and dangerous all at once.

Oscar nods into her skin, almost frantic, but it isn’t words he finds — just a breathy, needy little noise that has Dalilah smiling against the crown of his head.

“Oh, baby.” she murmurs, shifting under him, coaxing him to lay flat on the couch. He follows without hesitation, body pliant, breath shallow. “You're always so good for me.”

He barely catches the kiss she presses to his forehead before she’s slipping out from under him, leaving a sudden, shivering emptiness behind. A little whimper punches from his chest, but she’s already padding away down the hall, hips swaying in that easy, lethal way she knows he watches.

"Stay there," Dalilah tosses over her shoulder, soft but leaving no room for argument. Oscar grips the couch cushions with his hands, knuckles white, biting his lip.

When she returns, she’s carrying the box.

The box that has Oscar blinking up at her, cheeks already heating before anything even touches him.

Dalilah sets it down with a soft thud beside the couch. Her fingers skim his jaw, his chest, trailing lazy circles until she can feel how fast his heart is hammering.

“All for you tonight, babyboy." she hums, pulling a couple of items free — a silky tie, a sleek little bullet vibrator, a small bottle of lube. Nothing too cruel. Not tonight.

Oscar shifts, trying not to rut up into the air like some desperate thing, but Dalilah sees it anyway. She always sees.

“Patience,” she chides lightly, straddling his hips in a single, smooth movement. She can feel him — hot, hard, throbbing beneath her — even through his jeans. Poor boy’s probably been half-hard since the second he walked through the door.

"You gonna be good for me, baby?" she coos, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Yes,” Oscar chokes out, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Dalilah hums approvingly, catching his wrists and bringing them up over his head. She doesn't tie them — not yet. Just holds them there, pinning him with the weight of her body and the unbearable tenderness of her gaze.

"You don't have to think about anything, sweetheart," she whispers, kissing his temple. "Just let me."

Oscar whines again, helpless, almost writhing under her. His eyes flutter shut, then open wide when he feels her pop the button of his jeans and drag the zipper down agonizingly slow.

She's unfair. She's devastating. She's everything.

Before he can beg, before he can even formulate a thought, Dalilah has his cock freed, leaking, twitching in the cool air. She strokes him once, twice — light, teasing, nowhere near enough — and smiles when his hips stutter up into her touch.

"So sensitive," she murmurs, clearly delighted.

Without warning, the slick tip of the bullet vibrator presses to the head of his cock, sending a violent shudder through his entire body.

Oscar gasps, back arching, fists clenching in the empty air above him.

Dalilah shushes him sweetly, curling over him like a soft, beautiful trap. "It's ok, baby. I'm going to make you feel really good, hum?"

Oscar is trembling already, bright pink blooming across his cheeks, his chest, the tips of his ears. He tries to be good, he really does, but he can’t help the tiny sob that escapes when she toys with the speed settings — higher, then back down, never enough to let him fully slip over.

"That’s it," she whispers, pressing little kisses along his jawline, his throat. Now in a steady speed of the vibrator as she presses it fully into the tip of his cock, a brand new gasp coming out of her boyfriend's lips as she allows him to come.

"Such a good boy for me."

He nods desperately, tears prickling his lashes now, pleasure burning too hot under his skin. She doesn't stop, knows his body too well. Knows exactly how to keep him just on that knife's edge — trembling, whimpering, pliant.

Dalilah slides her free hand down, wrapping around the base of his cock, squeezing gently in time with the vibrations. "You can take it, can't you? My strong boy."

He's sensitive, riding the same orgasm.

"Y-yeah," Oscar sobs, his hips jerking helplessly under her.

Dalilah smiles — soft, proud, wicked.

She knows he’s close again. She knows exactly what she's doing.

And she’s not even close to done with him yet.

Oscar's whole body trembles under her, muscles straining with the effort to hold back, to be good, to earn every drop of the praise spilling from her lips.

Dalilah leans down, mouth brushing over his ear, voice a velvet threat.

"We're not ready for another one, alright? Wait for me, don't come yet."

A whimper. A broken sound.

He shakes his head rapidly, squeezing his thighs together, hips jerking against her grip and the incessant, cruel little vibrator still buzzing right over the slit of his cock.

"Good boy," she coos, dragging her nails lightly down his chest, watching him shiver and twitch like a livewire under her touch. "You’re doing so well, baby. I know it's hard. You're so sensitive already, aren't you?"

He nods frantically, gasping when she barely drags the vibrator down along the underside of his cock, featherlight and devastating.

"You’re gonna give me everything tonight, Oscar," Dalilah promises, voice still soft, still so fucking tender it breaks something in him. "Every little piece of you."

The words hit him harder than any hand could. His head falls back against the cushions, a wrecked, breathless sound tumbling from his throat. His cock leaks helplessly against her hand, and Dalilah smiles like he’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

"Such a mess already," she croons, moving down, settling between his spread thighs like a queen surveying her kingdom. "And I haven't even tasted you yet."

Oscar lets out a broken sob, his hands twitching above his head, desperate to touch her, to ground himself, to do anything.

But Dalilah only taps the inside of his thigh, sharp enough to snap his attention back.

"No touching, babyboy," she chides sweetly. "Good boys don't touch unless they're told."

He moans — fucking moans — like the perfect little thing he is.

Dalilah rewards him with a kiss to the leaking head of his cock, tongue flicking out to taste him, slow and deliberate. She hums approvingly, like he's the sweetest treat, the most perfect meal she could have asked for.

And then — because she’s merciful but still mean — she wraps her lips around him just enough to make him keen.

Oscar bucks up instinctively, eyes squeezing shut, thighs trembling under the effort to stay still, to stay good.

Dalilah pulls back with a wet pop, laughing quietly at his desperation.

"You’re close, aren't you, sweetheart?" she purrs, stroking him with the hand not holding the vibrator. "I can feel it. Feel you twitching. Trying so hard for me."

He nods again, too far gone to speak.

Dalilah tilts her head, studying him like something precious and pathetic all at once.

"You want to come, don't you, baby?"

"Please," Oscar gasps out, voice wrecked.

Dalilah smiles, all teeth, and taps his flushed cock lightly with the vibrator, making him jolt and sob.

"You deserve it, right? Come for me, Osc." she says sweetly.

Another sob, another frantic nod. And there he is, like it was all he needed. His body flicker slightly to the side the mess done all over his flesh, his girlfriend's hands and his brain. No words, just whines and his skin only in brighter tones of red.

She leans in, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his cock, pressing her tongue hard into that one spot that makes him twitch so violently it knocks the breath out of him. Oversensitive, still feeling everything from the last orgasm. Dalilah licks him clean, holding his thighs in place.

And then she pulls back again — leaving him trembling, desperate, falling apart right there on the couch.

"One more, baby," she whispers, crawling up to straddle him again, slipping out of her own clothes with lazy, unbothered grace. "You can give me one more, can't you?"

Oscar nods — tears leaking from the corners of his eyes now — wrecked and beautiful and so perfectly obedient.

Dalilah smiles, sinking down onto him in one slow, agonizing movement, taking him in to the hilt without a single stutter.

Oscar cries out, hips jerking helplessly.

She’s so wet, so tight around him, and he’s so close yet again he might black out.

Dalilah leans down, kissing the tears from his cheeks, rocking her hips in lazy, slow circles.

"There we go," she murmurs against his mouth. "Such a good boy. My good boy."

Oscar sobs again, hands fisting the cushions, trying — failing — to hold back.

And Dalilah just rides him — slow, sweet, devastating — until he finally breaks apart under her, coming with a wrecked, gasping cry, his whole body convulsing under the soft, brutal sweetness of her hands and mouth and voice.

And even then — even when he thinks he’s given her everything — Dalilah just smiles and whispers:

"That's it, baby. That's one more. Now be good and give me another."

Oscar's body is still twitching, every nerve ending raw and sizzling from the orgasm she dragged out of him. He’s so far gone he can barely catch his breath, still buried deep inside her, cock pulsing weakly even though he’s already spent.

Dalilah gives him a moment — a single, generous moment — to gasp against her shoulder.

Then she shifts her hips again, grinding down onto him, slow and merciless, her walls still fluttering and squeezing around him, dragging every last shred of sensation from his overstimulated cock.

Oscar sobs into her skin, hands gripping uselessly at the couch cushions.

"Dalilah," he whines, voice shredded.

"I know, baby," she croons, voice sugar-sweet. She kisses his temple, trailing her fingers down his heaving chest, nails raking lightly over his trembling stomach. "I know it's a lot. You're doing so good for me."

She rocks her hips again, deeper this time, and Oscar lets out a broken, beautiful sound — somewhere between a gasp and a moan — that makes Dalilah throb around him.

"You're gonna take it, aren't you?" she whispers, grinding down harder, panting now against his ear. "Gonna let me come all over this pretty cock? You can be strong for me, can't you, babyboy?"

Oscar nods frantically, tears streaking his flushed cheeks, wrecked beyond words, beyond thought — just raw obedience and need.

Dalilah smiles against his mouth, still moving with agonizing slowness, using his overstimulated body for her own pleasure, chasing her orgasm ruthlessly now.

"Good," she breathes. "Be good and let me use you, sweetheart. Just a little more."

She circles her hips again, faster, chasing that perfect drag of his cock against her swollen, desperate walls, the slippery, messy slide of him making her gasp aloud. Oscar sobs helplessly under her, his body jerking and twitching, cock still rock-hard inside her despite the tears running down his face.

"So good," she pants, voice breaking apart with pleasure. "You’re so fucking good, baby — you take it so well — make me feel so fucking good —"

Dalilah shudders hard, hips stuttering. She buries her face in his neck, biting down just hard enough to make him whimper — and then she comes, body clenching around him in long, rolling waves, dragging another broken, shuddering orgasm from Oscar with it.

He cries out underneath her, whole body locking up as he spills into her again, trembling and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Dalilah rides it out, grinding and gasping through the aftershocks, holding him down, owning every fucking second of his collapse.

And when she finally slows, finally lets up, she kisses him — open-mouthed, messy, filthy — tasting his tears and his pleasure all mixed together.

"That's it," she whispers against his lips. "You did so good for me, my love. So, so good."

Oscar just whimpers, eyes fluttering, chest heaving like he’s run a fucking marathon.

Dalilah slowly, gently lifts herself off him, careful with his hypersensitive cock, kissing every inch of skin she can reach as she moves.

"Shh, shh, babyboy," she soothes, pressing kisses to his burning cheeks, his wet eyelashes. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

She disappears for a moment, and he makes a broken little sound at the loss — but then she’s back, draping a warm, soft blanket over him, easing him down into the cushions.

Dalilah wipes his face with the gentlest touch, cleaning the mess between his thighs with a warm cloth, whispering little praises the whole time.

"My beautiful boy," she murmurs, brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead. "You were perfect for me."

Oscar just clings to her, still whimpering softly, completely wrecked, completely hers.

She kisses his forehead, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth.

"I’m so proud of you, darling," she whispers. "You gave me everything. You’re my favorite thing in the world."

Oscar lets out a little, broken laugh — half-sob, half-love-drunk — and nuzzles into her, breathing her in like air.

Dalilah just holds him, stroking his hair, rocking him slowly back and forth under the blanket until his breathing evens out again.

And even then — even when his eyes finally drift closed — she doesn't stop whispering to him:

"I love you. I’ve got you. Always."

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 6 • JEY USO

author's note: i'm baaaaaaack! I am so so sorry for the long awaited update, school truly put me through the ringer these past few weeks but thankfully everything is starting to settle down which means more frequent updates!!! part 6 honestly also took so long because I am high key a perfectionist and keep on finding things to add and revise but trust me when I say you are in for a delicious treat. thank you so much for all of your love and support and happy reading my loves☺️💗

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise dupree aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI) angst, tears, talks of past predatory behaviors, grooming, financial abuse, small bit of violence in the beginning, crashout jey uso™, cherise needs a hug and jey is willing to give her that and more, "I love you", unprotected sex (be smart people!), pussy eating, fingering, praise, love bites, lots of kissing and touching, daddy kink (although very minimal), multiple orgasms, multiple positions, dirty talk, body worship, squirting, creampie, hand holding, aftercare, pet names (baby girl, mama, pretty girl, baby), fluffy aftercare, bubble baths, massages, pillow talk, jey is really taking care of our girl in this one.

word count: 10.6k words

read part one here!

read part two here!

read part three here!

read part four here!

read part five here!

soundtrack playlist

Cherise’s breath hitched.

Her eyes were locked on Jey’s hands. Big, bruised, still clenched tightly around Tremaine’s collar. The man lay crumpled on the gym floor, face swollen, nose bleeding, one eye already purple and nearly shut.

She barely registered Jimmy holding Jey back, the tense lines in his shoulders, the warning in his voice. All she could focus on was Jey’s chest rising and falling, the way his jaw clenched, teeth bared, eyes dark and wild with rage.

She’d seen Jey angry before. Seen him in the ring, all aggression and snarling confidence. Like a lion staking its claim. But this? This was different.

And the craziest part?

It shouldn’t have made her feel this way, shouldn’t have sent heat curling low in her belly, shouldn’t have made her pulse flutter the way it did. But seeing Jey…her Jey…furious, defending her honor like this, looking every bit of the protector she needed?

Fuck.

Something warm and thrilling shivered down her spine, heat blooming in her cheeks.

“Joshua,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading.

Jey’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. His eyeswild and dark just seconds before softened immediately, flickering with recognition and something else. Something vulnerable.

“Cherise,” he breathed, voice raw.

Her hands shook, fingers instinctively reaching out, brushing his cheek, coaxing his eyes away from Tremaine’s battered, bleeding body and back to her.

“Hey,” she murmured, voice gentler now. “C’mon, baby. Let him go. He ain’t worth it.”

Jey’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between her and Tremaine. But her touch, soft and warm against his cheek, seemed to anchor him, seemed to pull him back from the brink. His fingers flexed once, twice, before he finally released his grip with a low, frustrated snarl.

Tremaine crumpled to the floor with a pained groan, curling in on himself.

Jey’s hands were still shaking, his breath coming out in ragged pants. But he didn’t move. Didn’t look away from her. Just stared, eyes dark and tormented, chest heaving, like he was terrified she might vanish if he blinked.

“Come on,” Cherise whispered, threading her fingers through his, tugging him gently back. “We need to talk.”

Jey hesitated, gaze darting between her and Tremaine’s crumpled body. But when she squeezed his hand, soft and sure, he exhaled, shoulders slumping. His fingers tightened around hers, warm and rough and unsteady.

Jimmy and Trinity stood beside one another, with raised brows, glancing between two with a look that screamed “I told you so.”

But Jey just shook his head, muttering something low and dark under his breath before letting Cherise pull him towards the door.

♡

The drive back to her apartment was quiet.

Not the sharp, suffocating silence from before but something softer, laden with unspoken words and stolen glances. Cherise’s fingers twisted in the sleeves of Jey’s hoodie, the one she’d swiped weeks ago, still smelling faintly like him.

Jey’s knuckles were raw and bruised, gripping the steering wheel in a tight vice. His bottom lip busted from one of Tremaine’s desperate swings, split on one side, a smear of crimson painting the curve of his mouth.

But he didn’t seem to notice or care. Didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but every few minutes, they flickered to her—quick, worried, aching.

Cherise’s chest tightened.

She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Hadn’t meant for Jey to get involved, to see the ugliest, most broken parts of her past. Hadn’t meant for him to bleed for her.

But God, the way he’d fought without hesitation, without mercy just because someone had dared to hurt her?

That did something dangerous to her heart.

She exhaled shakily, staring at her hands. “You’re bleeding,” she mumbled, voice small.

Jey’s eyes flicked to her, brows furrowing. “Ain’t nothin’, mama,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, less rough around the edges.

Cherise bit her lip, fingers twisting tighter in the sleeves of his hoodie. “Let me take care of it,” she whispered.

Jey hesitated, jaw flexing. But then he exhaled, shoulders sagging.

“…Aight, baby girl.”

♡

Jey didn’t want to sit down.

In fact, he seemed more interested in pacing laps around her living room, shoulders bunched tight with restless energy, every few seconds running a hand over his face and scowling at the floor like it had personally wronged him.

Cherise watched him from the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, with a look of concern. Her eyes flickered to his busted lip, the bruise darkening on his cheek, and guilt twisted sharp in her stomach.

“You’re gonna reopen it if you keep doing that,” she muttered quietly, her voice soft.

Jey paused mid-step, turning to look at her, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

She gestured to his mouth, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You keep licking it. You’re gonna make it worse.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it, then huffed, scowl deepening. “Ain’t nothin’. I’m fine.”

Cherise rolled her eyes. “Sit down.”

“Cherise.”

“Joshua.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. But then he sighed, grumbling under his breath, and finally, finally, dropped onto the couch beside her, knees spread, arms folded over his chest.

She bit back a smile, scooting a little closer, fingers twitching nervously in her lap. “Lemme see.”

“I said I’m fine, baby,” he muttered, though the way his eyes flickered to her lips said otherwise.

“Stop bein’ stubborn,” she huffed, cupping his jaw and turning his face gently towards her.

He froze, eyes going wide, breath hitching. And for a second, just a split second, his eyes dipped to her mouth, and Cherise’s pulse skipped.

Focus.

She leaned in, her thumb brushing carefully over his split lip, brow furrowing at the way he winced. “You’re not fine, dumbass,” she muttered softly. “This is gonna need peroxide.”

Jey snorted. “I had worse.”

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, rising to grab her first aid kit. “Sit still.”

Jey didn’t move when she walked back in.

Didn’t speak.

Just sat there, elbows on his thighs, jaw tight as his fingers laced together, bouncing anxiously. His entire body was still humming with leftover adrenaline. He could feel it in the twitch of his fists, the tightness in his chest, the ringing silence left in Tremaine’s wake.

And Cherise?

Cherise looked like she was about to cry again.

Not like earlier. Not like at the gym, when she’d rushed into the room like a woman possessed, like she was scared of what he might do. This was different. Softer. Quieter. Like something inside her had finally cracked open, and she didn’t know how to hold the pieces together anymore.

She knelt between his knees, first aid kit in her lap, and let her fingers brush gently under his chin.

“C’mere.”

Jey blinked down at her. “I said I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine one more time, Joshua…” Her voice was low, shaky, but laced with that same fire he always adored. “I swear to God, I will slap the lip off your face myself.”

He smirked. “Damn. You nursin’ me or threatenin’ me?”

“Both.”

“Soundin’ real toxic, mama.”

She rolled her eyes, but the tiniest curve tugged at her mouth. “You seem to like it though.”

“Mhmm.” His voice was low, but his eyes never left hers. “I do.”

Cherise swallowed hard and turned her attention to his lip. The cut was small but deep, split open just on the right side, already swelling. A small bruise was blooming along his cheekbone, and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

She hated it.

Hated knowing it was her fault he was like this.

“This gon’ sting,” she whispered.

“I’m good.”

“You always say that,” she muttered, dabbing the antiseptic on a cotton pad.

And when it touched the fragile skin, he flinched just a little.

Her brows drew together. “See?”

Jey grunted, his shoulders twitching. “Aight, you was right. That shit burn.”

“Mm. That’s what you get,” she murmured, her voice smaller now. “Stupid.”

Jey huffed a quiet laugh, watching her. His gaze flickered over her face, her lashes, the crease in her brows, the tension in her jaw. Her lips were tight, pressed together like she was holding something in. Like she was trying not to cry.

“You okay, mama?” he asked quietly.

Cherise didn’t answer.

She just kept cleaning, her fingers gentle, careful, brushing beneath his jaw, her eyes focused on anything but him.

Jey reached up, stilling her hand. “Cherise.”

She swallowed hard.

He used her name. Not Candy. Not some nickname of endearment. Just…her. And it hit something deep in her chest, something raw and old and broken.

“I’m okay,” she said quietly, dabbing the cotton against the busted corner of his lip once more.

He winced, but didn’t move.

“Lyin’,” he muttered.

She let out a soft breath. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He didn’t push. Just let her tend to him in silence, his hands resting on her thighs for balance, fingers splayed wide, warm and grounding.

"You really went after him," she whispered after a beat, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "You didn’t even hesitate."

Jey’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I ain’t lettin’ nobody play wit’ you like that.”

Her hand stilled. “You coulda got arrested, Joshua. You could’ve—he could press charges.”

“Let him,” he said, voice sharp. “Let that bitch press somethin’. He won’t walk straight for a month. I’ll take that case proud.”

Cherise gave him a look, half stern, half…helplessly soft. Because under all that fire, all that fury, was something real. Something hers.

"You didn’t have to do all that."

“Yes I did.” His voice dropped lower. “You ain’t see your face, Cherise. When you saw him. The way you froze up. The way you damn near disappeared on me in real time.”

She looked down.

“Baby,” he murmured, grasped her free hand. “What did he do to you?”

Her breath hitched.

“I ain’t askin’ to poke around in your pain,” he said gently. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I want you to let me hold some of it.”

Cherise’s throat closed.

She looked up at him, really looked, and saw nothing but sincerity. Kindness. Patience.

And love, maybe.

Even if he hadn’t said it yet.

Her hand trembled in his. “He…he made me hate myself.”

Jey’s gaze didn’t waver. “Tell me, mama.”

Her hands dropped to her lap.

She sat back, still on her knees between his legs, and stared at the floor for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was eighteen,” she said quietly. “Young. Dumb. Thought I knew everything. And Tremaine…he was older. Charming. Said all the right things.”

Jey’s fingers tightened slightly on her thigh, but he said nothing.

“He used to buy me things. Clothes, food, let me crash at his place when I didn’t wanna go home. Told me he believed in me. That he wanted to help me get into nursing school after I graduated college. That I was special.”

Her voice cracked.

“But I wasn’t special. Not to him. I was just moldable.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. She saw it from the corner of her eye.

“He’s the one who put the idea of dancing in my head,” she said. “Told me it was empowering. Told me it would help me pay for school, give me control over my own life and I trusted him.”

Jey brushed his thumb along her thigh, slow, reassuring.

“But it was never really mine. He chose the name. Candy.” Her lip curled, disgusted.

Jey lifted a brow. “Why that?”

“I used to keep candy in my purse.” She glanced up, her eyes glassy but dry. “When I was little. I’d have very bad anxiety. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe. So my dad used to buy me these lil’ peppermints. Said if I started panickin’, I should take one. Focus on the taste. Let it ground me.” She paused, her voice hitching. “It was stupid, but it helped.”

Jey nodded and let her continue.

“After he died, I started keepin’ ‘em with me everywhere. Even now, I still got some in my bag.” Her voice cracked. “It made me feel safe, I guess. Like…like I could control somethin’. Like maybe I wouldn’t spiral if I had somethin’ sweet on my tongue.”

Her voice hardened a little as she let herself finally unpack the baggage she held onto for years. “I told him about the candies one night—dumb, I know—and next thing I know, I show up to the club for my first shift and he’s like, ‘Yo, Candy. That’s your name now.’” Her mouth twisted. “Candy sounded like temptation. Like somethin’ you ain’t supposed to have. Somethin’ sweet you suck on. His words, not mine.”

Jey’s jaw ticked.

Cherise looked down at her hands. “I hated it. Hated how easy it was to let him talk me into everything. ‘You got a pretty face, baby. That’s money right there.’ ‘You don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t wanna do.’ ‘It’s just dancin’, Cherise. You ain’t fuckin’ nobody.’” Her voice turned bitter. “But it was never just dancin’. Not to him.”

Jey leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees, his hands coming to rest gently on her thighs.

“He made you feel like you didn’t have a choice,” Jey said softly. His voice low and sure, as his fingers stayed wrapped around her thighs like he was trying to keep her grounded. To keep her here.

Cherise nodded slowly, her throat tight. “He ain’t just made me feel like it… He took my choices. Like they were his to begin with.”

She paused, her nails digging gently into her palms. “He used to do this thing where he called me by my name when I did somethin’ he didn’t like, and Candy when I was what he needed me to be.”

Her lips twisted.

“After a while, I stopped even hearing Cherise. Felt like…she ain’t even exist no more. Like she died the day my mom did.”

Jey’s expression looked pained at the sentence.

Cherise scoffed to herself. “Yeah. That’s what he said too. Said Cherise was too soft and scared. Said Candy was the one who knew how to survive.”

Jey’s jaw flexed tightly. Almost as if he has the urge to run out and hunt the bastard down for round two.

“And the worst part is?” she said, her voice cracking. “I started believing him. I started separating the two in my head like I had to kill off the soft part of me just to make it out. Like my mother didn’t die bringing me into this world, so I could fuckin’ live in it.”

Her vision blurred again, her breathing shallow.

“And then that party…” Her voice was a whisper now, barely there. “That was when I realized I was just a prop to him.”

Jey leaned forward, his hands sliding gently up her thighs, grasping onto one of her hands, waiting patiently.

“He invited me out like we was goin’ somewhere fancy—told me to wear somethin’ cute, somethin’ tight. Like it was a lil’ dinner date. Said he wanted to treat me for being good.”

Jey’s expression darkened.

“I showed up lookin’ nice. Real nice. Hair pressed and curled, heels on, this red dress I bought with the tips I hid from him.” She laughed bitterly. “And I walk in with him to this suite in Buckhead… and it’s a fuckin’ bachelor party.”

She paused.

“My name was already on the damn flyer.”

Jey blinked. “Flyer?”

“They printed flyers, Jey. My face. My stage name. ‘Special guest: Candy.’ And he never told me. Never asked. Just… threw me to the wolves. Gave me a g-string and a bottle of liquor and told me to make him look good.”

Her throat bobbed. She could barely speak now.

“I ain’t never felt that small in my life,” she whispered. “They was shoutin’, laughin’, throwin’ money before I even touched the pole. One of his boys grabbed me…like full on grabbed me and Tremaine just stood there. Watchin’. Smilin’ like he was bein’ turned on by me being uncomfortable.”

Cherise didn’t notice the way her voice cracked. The way her face crumpled. The way the first tear slipped down her cheek until it landed right on his thigh. “And when I decided to leave him for good, He ran off with all of my money. Every dollar I was savin’ for school. He claimed I ‘owed’ him. That it was his severance package or some dumb shit.”

“I’m twenty eight and I’m still trying to pull my eighteen year old self out of that room. And I never got to tell my story. People just assumed I was fast. That I liked it. But I was groomed, Jey. I was a kid.”

The last word broke something inside her.

And maybe it was the way he stayed so still.

Maybe it was the way his hand didn’t leave hers, or the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and soft.

He rested his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her thighs.

“I’m sorry, Cherise” he whispered, voice raw. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and this time, she didn’t hide them. She didn’t pull away when Jey leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the wet corner of her eye.

“I didn’t let Candy die though,” she whispered. “I remade her.”

She looked up then, her eyes red rimmed but defiant.

“I made her mine.”

“I picked my own outfits. My own music. I stopped dancin’ for money and started dancin’ for control. I started sayin’ no. I made my own schedule. I got selective with my dances, who I gave my energy to. Candy became someone I chose to be. Not someone I had to be to survive.”

Her voice thickened. “You remember that night when we met? And I picked you for VIP?”

Jey nodded slowly.

“I picked you,” she whispered. “Because I saw something soft in your eyes. Not just hunger. You didn’t look at me like I was somethin’ to consume. You looked at me like I was worth bein’ seen.”

“And when I saw you again after all that time,” she murmured, “I thought maybe… just maybe, I could let someone in. Let you in. But then Tremaine showed up.”

Jey’s expression shifted to something dark and protective. “He was at your apartment?”

“He came to my door, Jey,” she whispered. “Three weeks ago. That’s why I pushed you away.”

Jey’s face turned cold, but he didn’t interrupt. He just kept his hand on her skin, like he was holding her safely…grounding her.

“I wanted to believe you were different,” she choked out. “But when he said all that shit…about you just wantin’ what I could give you? It just…it felt too real. Like maybe I was stupid for thinkin’ this could be more.”

“Nah,” Jey said sharply, his voice low and certain. “Never.”

Cherise blinked. “But why?”

Jey pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“You really think I’m that kinda dude?”

Cherise shook her head quickly. “No. I don’t. Not really. I just…I didn’t think someone like you could want someone like me.”

Jey face fell. His voice dropped, low and thick.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re Jey Uso,” she exclaimed. “You’re world tours. You’re stadium lights. You’re championships. And I’m just someone tryin’ to piece her life back together.”

“You not just anything,” he said, his voice a growl. “You are everything. You hear me?”

Cherise blinked almost as if she couldn’t believe what she is hearing.

“I saw you,” he murmured. “From the jump. And you ain’t never had to pick between Candy and Cherise for me. I want all of it, baby girl. Every version of you. The one who smiles soft, and the one who bites back.”

She inhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around his.

“I ain’t just tryna see you naked in the club,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips, careful of the bruise. “I’m tryna see you in the morning light. In scrubs. With your books all laid out on that little ass coffee table I organized.”

Cherise let out a breathy laugh through the tears, covering her face. “You really did organize my shit…”

“I did.” He smirked gently. “Color-coded and everything which..you welcome.”

She giggled into her hands, her voice watery and broken and warm.

“You paid my tuition,” she whispered, finally letting the words out.

Jey’s smile faltered. He sat back a little, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes still on hers.

“I did.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Because you deserve it,” he said simply.“It shouldn’t take a miracle or working yourself to death for you to get what you need. You was already fightin’ for it on your own and I just wanted to make it a little easier.”

Cherise’s throat closed. “That’s a lot of money, Jey.”

“I know.”

“You ain’t even tell me.”

“Didn’t want to. It wasn’t about credit, mama. It was about you.” His voice dropped. “All I wanted was to see you win and succeed.”

Her lip trembled, and she reached for him before she could stop herself, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He caught her instantly, arms strong around her back, his hands cradling her like she was something precious.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so so sorry, Jey.”

“Nah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. “You ain’t gotta apologize for protectin’ your peace.”

“I thought I had to do it all alone.”

“You don’t.” His voice was thick, trembling at the edges. “Not no more.”

Cherise sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at him and her eyes dropped to his arm, the butterfly inked on the inside of his bicep.

Her breath caught.

“You put that in the note.”

“I did,” he murmured, eyes on hers. “I knew you’d know it was me.”

Her fingers reached out, tracing the soft lines of the tattoo, her touch feather-light. “Why the butterfly?”

His lips curled.

“Because they survive shit they ain’t supposed to,” he said softly. “They start out as somethin’ small and ugly and stuck, but when it’s time? They grow wings and fly.”

Cherise couldn’t breathe.

Jey leaned in slowly, brushing his forehead to hers, their noses grazing. “You my butterfly, baby.”

Her breath hitched. “Jey…”

“Yes, baby?” he responds, lips ghosting over hers.

“…Please stay.” she whispers against his lips.

Jey didn’t hesitate to capture her lips with his own.

♡

The bedroom was dim.

Quiet.

Soft shadows stretched across the walls, the room smelling faintly like vanilla and her body butter. Cherise’s curls were tied up high, but a few strands had fallen loose around her face. Her cheeks were still flushed, her full lips parted slightly as she watched him from the foot of the bed.

Jey’s eyes raked over her slowly.

From the delicate slope of her shoulders to the curve of her waist under the hoodie, to the thick thighs visible just beneath the hem, bare and gleaming from where she’d been curled against him earlier.

His voice came out low. Rough.

“You sure, mama? We don’t have to-”

She cut him off with a nod. One, slow but sure. “I’m sure. I’m done runnin’.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, lifting a hand to trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, eyes fluttering as his palm slid to cup her cheek.

“Aight,” he murmured, dipping his head.

“I’ma take my time then.”

The kiss wasn’t urgent.

It was deep. Slow. All tongue and teeth and soft moans slipping between them as Cherise melted against him.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space between their bodies. Just heat and tension and years of wanted to be loved the right way finally unraveling at the seams.

Jey growled low when her hips brushed his, his hands sliding up under the hoodie, palms dragging over soft, bare skin.

“You got nothin’ on under here?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Maybe.”

“Girl…”

His hands roamed higher until they found the curve of her waist, thumbs brushing the sides of her ribs. His breath hitched when he felt the under curve of her breasts which were bare, soft, and warm.

Cherise smirked against his lips. “Listen…I was comfy before I ran out to stop you from killing that man.”

“Seems like you tryna kill me tonight,” Jey muttered, kissing her harder.

She let out a breathless laugh that turned into a gasp as he slid the hoodie up over her head, lifting her arms and dragging it free in one smooth motion.

Then he froze.

Jey’s gaze raked over her bare chest like a man starving.

God, she was beautiful.

Rich brown skin soft and glowing in the lamplight. Full breasts, heavy, topped with deep brown nipples already stiff from anticipation. The soft curve of her belly, the stretch of her waist, the plush of her thighs.

He took a step back just to look.

“You gon’ make me say it again,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Damn, mama.”

Cherise flushed, but didn’t cover herself. Not this time.

Not with the way he was lookin’ at her.

Not when she could see admiration in his eyes.

“I’m nothin’ special,” she whispered.

Jey’s head snapped up.

He stepped forward, slid his arms around her waist, and lifted her onto the edge of the bed like she weighed nothing.

Then he knelt between her thighs and looked up at her with that same focused intensity he gave the first night they met.

“Lemme tell you somethin’,” he said, voice low. “You everything, baby girl. I ain’t never wanted nobody like I want you. You sittin’ up here actin’ like you regular, and I’m out here ready to go to war over you girl.”

Cherise let out a soft laugh but it caught in her throat when his mouth pressed to her chest.

Jey kissed her breast first, soft and slow. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it until it hardened, then he sucked it between his lips, deep and slow, like he wanted to taste every inch.

Cherise gasped, her hand flying to the back of his head.

“J-Joshua…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, switching sides, letting his teeth graze the peak before sucking it again.

The pressure, the heat, the devotion in the way he kissed her made her whole body tighten. Her thighs shifted, hips rolling forward just slightly as he mouthed and licked over the swells of her chest like she was dessert.

“You taste so good, baby,” he murmured, dragging his tongue down her sternum. “So fuckin’ soft. Got me losin’ my mind.”

Cherise whimpered as he laid her back slowly on the mattress, climbing up to hover over her.

His shirt was still on so she tugged it.

“You always got somethin’ to pull off me,” he teased, stripping it in one smooth motion.

And when his shirt dropped to the floor, God, she could have sworn her mouth watered.

The tattoos, the muscle, the sheer weight of him above her. The way the butterfly curled just inside his bicep.

He caught her staring.

“You still thinkin’ ‘bout that note?”

She nodded.

“I ain’t write that just to be cute,” he said softly. “I wrote it ‘cause it’s real. You really do deserve all this. You deserve me takin’ my time wit’ you. You deserve to be held right.”

He dipped his head, lips brushing her jaw.

“Kissed right.”

Down her neck.

“Tasted right.”

His tongue traced her collarbone, slow, teasing.

“Loved right.”

Cherise’s body arched as he pressed his lips lower.

Jey’s mouth dragged down the soft slope of her belly, his hands spreading wide over the plush of her thighs, his palms so big they made her look even softer beneath him.

Cherise trembled.

The cool air kissed over her damp skin, every inch of her buzzing from the slow trail of his kisses. She could feel his breath ghosting over the waistband of her panties . The delicate lace in deep red, damp in the center from how long she’d been aching for him.

Jey’s fingers slid under the waistband, and he looked up at her. Controlled. Focused. Dangerous.

“You want this off, baby?” he murmured, voice low and full of promise.

Cherise nodded, but he didn’t move.

“Use them words, pretty girl.”

Her breath caught. “Yes. Please.”

“Mmm.” Jey’s smirk deepened, and he tugged the lace down her thighs slow, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited too long to open.

And when he saw her?

Spread open, glistening, already soaked for him?

His mouth dropped open like he’d just seen God.

“Shit, mama…” he groaned, dragging two fingers slowly along her folds, collecting the slick there, then rubbing small, gentle circles over her clit. “You already this wet for me?”

Cherise whimpered, hips twitching.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Jey chuckled darkly, leaning in, his lips brushing over her inner thigh. “Say less.”

Then he lowered his mouth to her.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow and deep. Cherise gasped, her thighs flexing instinctively around his head, but Jey didn’t stop. He just gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as he devoured her.

Long, lazy licks through her velvety folds, flicks of his tongue over her clit, then back down again, teasing her open, tasting her like it was his purpose of living .

“F-fuck…” she moaned, her head tipping back against the pillows.

He was relentless. Every flick of his tongue was intentional. Every moan he pulled from her was earned.

And he loved every second of it.

“Mm,” Jey hummed against her, his voice low and muffled in her heat. “You know how sweet this pussy is, baby? Been dreamin’ about this taste.”

He sucked her clit between his lips, slow and deep.

Cherise cried out, her hips bucking, her fingers flying down to twist in his hair.

Her thighs were trembling now, soft brown skin quivering as pleasure coiled low and hot in her belly.

Jey kept going, flattening his tongue and dragging it up from her dripping entrance to her clit again and again until her whole body was trembling.

Then two thick, long fingers slid inside her at once, curling just right against her walls, stroking her open.

Her back arched off the bed.

“J-Jey!”

“That’s it, mama,” he whispered, his breath hot against her core. “Lemme hear you.”

He fucked her slow with his fingers, his tongue working in tandem. The rhythm deliberate, intoxicating, like he was building her up slow just to watch her fall apart.

Her breath stuttered, chest heaving, her nipples tight and peaked, her curls sticking to her temples.

She was soaked.

The obscene sound of his fingers pumping into her echoed in the room, mixing with her breathy moans, and it made his cock throb in his sweats.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her thighs squeezing around his head.

“You close, baby?” he murmured, his lips gliding over her clit. “You gon’ cum for me?”

She nodded helplessly.

But again, he made her say it.

“Tell me.”

“I’m—I’m gonna—” her voice broke into a moan as his tongue circled her clit again. “I’m gonna cum—please don’t stop—”

That was all he needed.

He sucked her clit harder, thrust his fingers deeper and her whole body snapped.

Her back arched, thighs trembling, mouth falling open in a silent cry as the orgasm crashed over her in hot, pulsing waves.

“Fuckfuckfuck—J-Jey, oh my God—”

Her body convulsed around his fingers, soaking his hand, the wet sounds of her release enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, licking her through it, slow and greedy. “That’s it, baby. Lemme taste all of it.”

He didn’t stop until she was squirming, gasping, her body too sensitive to handle the way he worshipped her.

He pressed one last kiss to her clit before pulling back, his mouth and beard shining with her slick.

She blinked up at him, breathless and fucked-out, chest heaving.

Jey smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Still think I came back for the pussy?” he rasped.

Cherise could barely speak.

She blinked at him, her chest heaving, curls wild, sweat beading down the curve of her temple. Her skin glowed warm and flushed, her legs still trembling from the orgasm he pulled from her with nothing but that sinful mouth.

And her heart?

Thudding wild in her chest.

He leaned over her slowly, his body caging hers in, and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her lashes fluttered.

“You good, baby girl?”

She nodded, dazed.

“You sure?”

“Don’t be smug,” she whispered, cheeks flushed.

He grinned.

“I ain’t smug, mama,” he murmured, voice dipping low as he kissed the corner of her mouth, soft and delicate. “I’m in awe.”

Her breath caught.

Because he wasn’t teasing. His voice was thick with sincerity, his eyes warm, lips brushing hers like she was made of glass.

His hands stayed on her the whole time palming her hips, tracing the curve of her ass, gripping her thighs possessively like he couldn’t believe she was real.

She reached for him, hooked her fingers in the waistband of his sweats and whispered, “Take ‘em off,” earning a groan low in his throat.

“Damn, baby. You bossy..”

She smiled, pulling them down slowly, revealing his thick length. Brown, heavy, veined and already leaking at the tip.

“Jey…”

“Yeah?” he rasped, watching her hand wrap around him.

Her thumb slid over the head, collecting the precum, and his breath caught.

“You gon’ let me have a taste?”

He bit his lip. “Eventually.”

“Eventually?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby.” He pulled her hand away gently, flipping her onto her back. “But I gotta be inside you first.”

He lowered himself again, his chest pressed to hers, and slid his hand between her thighs.

Fingers brushed her soaked folds, then guided himself to her entrance.

“You ready, baby?”

She nodded, trembling.

Jey’s mouth brushed her ear.

“Use them words, baby girl.”

“I’m ready,” she breathed.

Jey filled her slow and deep.

The thick head of his dick stretched her open inch by inch, his hips pressing forward with a groan that shook her bones. “Mmmf—fuck, baby girl…”

Cherise’s mouth fell open, her back arching as her fingers scrambled for purchase on his shoulders.

Every nerve in her body lit up.

She’d taken him before but not like this.

Not with this heat in the air. Not with all that tension and desperation simmering beneath the surface. Not after crying in his arms, after spilling her deepest wounds, only for him to look her dead in the eye like she was the most precious thing he ever touched.

And now he was inside her.

Thick. Heavy. Warm.

“Fffffuuuuuck,” she gasped, fingers clawing at his inked back.

Jey chuckled low and dark, his forehead pressed to hers. He pulled back just enough to slam back in, the force making her tits bounce, a sharp moan ripping from her throat.

“Shhh, I got you, baby,” he whispered against her neck, voice low and breathless. “Relax f’me. Just like that. You takin’ me so good.”

He pushed deeper, his hips rolling forward until he was seated all the way in, his heavy length stretching her in that perfect, dizzying way.

Cherise whimpered.

His grip tightened on her hips, holding her in place while he set a rhythm. Every stroke dragged along her walls, thick and slow, the head of his dick tapping her g-spot just right, again and again.

Her thighs clenched around his waist, trying to ground herself. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah,” Jey groaned, holding still for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers. “Feel that, mama? That’s me in this sweet lil’ pussy.”

She whimpered, trying to respond but he caught her mouth in a hot, sloppy kiss, stealing whatever comeback she had on the tip of her tongue.

Tongues colliding and teeth lightly scraping against each other.

She sucked on his bottom lip, then moaned into his mouth as he drove into her again, this time harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

Jey’s chain swung lightly across her chest, catching on her nipple, cold metal teasing her sensitive skin with every pump.

“You hear that?” he panted, cock grinding deep. “That’s you, baby. That’s how fuckin’ wet you are for me.”

Cherise’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, tighter. The stretch was so good, so nasty she could feel the pressure building again, that tight knot coiling low in her belly.

“I missed you,” she moaned, nails dragging down his back.

“I know you did,” Jey rasped, biting her throat. “You act tough, but this pussy been missin’ me.”

His teeth grazed the sweet spot under her jaw, and he sucked hard. A deep, dark bruise bloomed against her neck, and Cherise loved it.

She moaned louder, her hips rolling to meet his strokes, her curls sticking to her face as she lost herself in the rhythm.

“You like that, huh?” he growled, sucking another hickey into her chest. “Like when I mark you up?”

She nodded furiously, breath catching.

“Mmm, fuck, baby…” His lips found her collarbone, dragging hot kisses across it. “Look at you. All that sass and you still foldin’ on me.”

Her hand slapped weakly at his chest. “Shut up…”

He chuckled against her skin. “Say you love it.”

Cherise whimpered, her head buried in his shoulder.

“Say it, baby girl,” he murmured, nipping at her jaw. “Say you love when I fuck you like this.”

She cried out when he rolled his hips hard, hitting that spot inside her that made her legs shake.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, fuck—I-I love it, Jey, I—oooh my god…”

“That’s my girl.” He bit down gently on her throat, leaving a warm, stinging mark behind. “This pussy mine now, huh?”

“Y-yeah..fuck..yes!”

“Yeah it’s mine?”

“It’s yours,” she moaned, back arching, nails digging into his biceps. “God, Jey—fuck!”

He grinned, satisfied.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed soft and rhythmic through the apartment—his hips grinding into hers in long, deep strokes, dragging moans from her throat she didn’t even know she could make.

Jey kissed her everywhere.

The slope of her nose.

Her cheeks.

Her shoulder.

Her breasts.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and groaned, tongue circling it slow before giving it a gentle bite.

“You so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” he muttered between kisses. “Don’t ever let nobody tell you different.”

Cherise whimpered, hands threading through his curls.

“I mean that shit,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “You hear me?”

She nodded, dazed.

But that wasn’t enough.

“Say it.”

She swallowed hard. “I hear you.”

“Say you believe it.”

“I…” Her throat tightened. “I’m trying.”

He kissed her. Deep. Long.

His tongue slid slow into her mouth, curling against hers as he poured everything he couldn’t say into that kiss. His care, his hunger, his love even if he hadn’t said the word yet.

And when he pulled back?

Her eyes were wet again.

But not from pain.

“I got you, baby girl,” he whispered against her lips. “You ain’t gotta try alone no more. You got me.”

Her heart cracked open.

And this time, when she pulled him back down, the kiss was different.

Desperate. Needy.

Full of emotion neither of them could hide anymore.

He pulled out slow—too slow—and before she could whine, he flipped her effortlessly onto her stomach.

Cherise gasped, bracing herself on her elbows as he dragged her hips up into the air.

“Arch that back for me,” he grunted, slapping her ass hard.

Smack.

She cried out, eyes fluttering.

“That’s it baby, arch it,” he instructed, gripping the back of her neck, forcing her head down while her ass stayed high.

“There you go.”

He slid the tip of his dick through her slick folds, teasing her, tapping against her clit before lining back up. He slid back into her with ease, the new angle hitting different. She screamed silently into the pillow, her fists balling up the sheets as he fucked into her.

Cherise was a mess.

Face down, ass up, hair wild, drool smudging the pillow.

The squelch of wetness and slapping skin was nasty. So nasty she should’ve been embarrassed. But the way he was fucking her? She couldn’t be embarrassed.

He grabbed a handful of her ass and spread her open, watching himself disappear inside her over and over, his dick shiny and soaked in her arousal with a creamy ring around the base.

“Daaamn,” he groaned. “You see this shit, baby?”

She whimpered into the pillow.

Jey chuckled darkly, dragging her hips back into each thrust, deeper, making her thighs quake.

“You ain’t tappin’ out yet, are you?”

“Nuh uh,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Please..don’t fuckin’ stop.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

He pulled out and flipped her again, this time onto her side. One leg thrown over his shoulder, his hips angled deep, his arm was slung under her neck, holding her close, his other hand working slow, tight circles over her slick, swollen clit. He slid back into her slow, thick and heavy, her walls clenching around him like they missed him even after only seconds apart.

Cherise was a fucking mess.

Breathless, squirming, moaning, her pretty brown skin slick with sweat, her curls a halo of chaos around her flushed face as her hand clutched his forearm, nails biting into his inked skin as she buried her face in the pillow, lips swollen, thighs trembling.

“Ohh my God, Jey…”

He groaned into her neck, biting down gently, kissing the red mark after. “You feel me, baby?”

“Mhm…uh-huh…” she whimpered, voice all breath and heat. “So f-fuckin’ deep…”

Jey dragged his tongue up the column of her throat, fingers never stopping their rhythm, his hips grinding slow, deep strokes that made her cry out with every roll.

"Yeah…that’s it, mama," he murmured, voice low, thick with hunger. "Keep sayin’ it. Let me hear how good this shit feel.”

“I—It feels s-so good,” Cherise whimpered, throwing her head back against the pillow. “Fuck, Jey…”

“You gon’ cum again for me, baby girl?” he rasped, his teeth brushing her earlobe. “You close?”

She nodded desperately, her thighs shaking, her pussy clenching around him, already so sensitive from the last few orgasms he pulled from her.

Jey couldn’t breathe.

Not with Cherise beneath him like this.

Flushed, needy, soft, her thigh wrapped around his waist, her fingers locked tight around his wrist like she was holding on for dear life.

His girl.

His everything.

She was soaking for him. Warm and slick, her pussy pulsing around his dick, her body trembling with every slow roll of his hips. Every deep, steady stroke had her gasping, whining, whimpering like he was inside her soul.

And he gave it to her.

All of him.

Every inch. Every kiss. Every breath.

His forehead pressed to hers, hips grinding deep, their bodies slick with sweat and heat.

She reached up, brushing the curls from his face, her fingers trailing over the scruff lining his jaw.

And then…she said it.

“I love you, Jey.”

Jey froze.

The words didn’t just hit, they detonated.

And she meant it.

He saw it in her eyes.

Big and brown, glistening with tears and bliss, her lips swollen, trembling, her voice wrecked. But there was no fear there. No hesitation. Just her, raw and open beneath him, handing over her heart like she already knew he’d never break it.

His hands flexed on her thighs. His throat worked around the lump suddenly forming there.

“What you just say, baby?” His voice was low and fragile.

Cherise blinked up at him, chest heaving, her voice shaky but solid.

“I love you, Jey,” she whispered again. “I love you.”

Jey’s whole chest caved.

And the he kissed her. Hard. Slow and deep, tongue tangled with hers, his fingers tangled in her curls as his heart practically embedded itself into hers.

"You love me, huh?" he rasped, forehead resting against hers.

She nodded, brushing her nose against his, breath catching.

“Say it again.”

He rolled his hips into her, slow, filthy, every stroke dragging over that sweet spot that made her legs shake.

“I love you,” she moaned, her nails digging into his back.

Jey groaned, lips brushing hers, his heart slamming behind his ribs. “Mmm, yeah, you do.”

He kissed her again.

But this time his hands moved.

Slid up her arms, smooth and commanding, until he caught both wrists and pinned them above her head.

“Say it one more time, mama,” he growled. “Let me hear that shit while I’m deep in this pussy.”

“F-fuck—” she gasped as his hips snapped forward again. “I—I love you, Jey!”

Jey lost it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, driving into her harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath them like it couldn’t take much more.

He wasn’t rough. Not in the slightest. He worshipped her.

He touched her like she was holy, kissed her like he was praying, and fucked her like she was the only woman in the universe.

His hands explored every inch of her skin—dark, warm, golden brown under the soft lamp light, kissed with stretch marks and curves that ruined him. His mouth found the swell of her breasts, dragging his tongue over her nipple before sucking slow, deep, making her arch with a ragged cry.

“J-Jey…” She whined.

He switched sides, licking up a bead of sweat trailing down her cleavage before dragging his tongue over her other nipple, sucking until it was swollen, shiny, his hand kneading the other with slow, greedy palms.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispered, mouth dragging to her neck, where he licked and kissed his way up to the soft spot beneath her ear. He found her hands again, laced their fingers together and held them above her head, pressing them back into the pillows.

“Y-yeah,” she sobbed, breathless.

“Mmm, nah, say it real sweet for me. Tell Daddy what you feelin’.”

“I—I feel you, Jey,” she choked. “I feel you everywhere.”

“Yeah, you do,” he growled. “All in this lil’ pussy, stretchin’ you out, takin’ you so deep. You love that shit, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she gasped.

“Uh-huh?” he teased, kissing down her jaw, his fingers still tangled with hers, their hands crushed into the pillows above her head.

“Y-yeah,” she whimpered.

His lips brushed behind her ear, breath hot and filthy. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she breathed, voice shaking. Jey groaned, voice low and cracked, eyes wild with lust.

“You so fuckin’ good to me, baby girl,” he whispered, moving their locked hands so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. “So sweet. So perfect. Love this lil’ body. Love this lil’ pussy. I fuckin’ love you, baby.”

Cherise broke.

She shattered in his arms.

Her mouth dropped open in a breathless cry, her thighs shaking violently as her orgasm rolled through her in thick, blinding waves. Her walls clamped down around his dick, milking him, sucking him in deeper, and Jey almost blacked out from how tight she got.

“Fuck,” He cursed low and thick, trying to hold on, trying to breathe through the way her pussy was gripping his dick.

But there was no holding back. Not when she looked at him like that. Not when she told him she loved him.

His pace stuttered, his grip tightening,,“F-fuck, baby,” he groaned, his body jerking as he spilled hot ropes spilled her, deep, thick, and heavy.

Cherise held him tight, arms sliding around his back, pulling him close while he buried his face in her neck, whispering her name like a prayer.

And when it was over, when the aftershocks of their orgasms began to fade and his breath evened out, they stayed tangled up in each other. Jey brushed his thumb down her thigh, then traced slow circles over her wrist where he still held her hand.

His other hand slid across her belly, feeling the faint twitch of aftershocks still rippling through her.

Jey didn’t move right away.

He stayed wrapped around her, holding her like she might float away if he let go, their bodies tangled in damp sheets, hearts still hammering slow and heavy against each other’s chests.

Cherise blinked up at the ceiling, still dazed, her body thrumming from the aftershocks of everything they just did. Her skin was sticky with sweat and slick, her thighs trembling from how hard she’d come. She should’ve felt wrecked. But instead? she just felt…whole.

Jey pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss against the curve of her neck, his beard tickling her cheek. Cherise’s eyes fell on him, a slow, tired smile pulling at her lips.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet all at once.

Jey grinned, lazy and lopsided, dimples deep. "Hey, pretty girl."

For a moment, neither of them moved, just…looking.

Taking it in.

Breathing it in.

Then Jey chuckled low in his throat and pressed a kiss to her temple. "C'mon, mama. Let’s get you cleaned up. I done wore you out."

Cherise smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth tugging up. “Mmhmm.”

Jey kissed her forehead, then slowly, carefully, rolled off her, leaving a trail of kisses down her arm. She whimpered quietly at the loss of his warmth, but when she peeked at him through her lashes, he was already standing beside the bed, tugging his boxers back on and stretching his arms above his head, muscles flexing deliciously in the soft light.

Cherise whined softly but let him pull her up into a sitting position.

Her whole body ached in that delicious, used way. Her thighs sore, her core throbbing, her neck and breasts marked with love bites she already knew she was gonna have to cover up for clinicals.

Worth it.

Jey bent down, sliding his arms under her body, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Cherise yelped, smacking his chest lightly. “Boy! I can walk!” Jey just smirked, his gold chain glinting against his chest. “I’on wanna hear that shit. You my girl. I’m carryin’ you.”

Cherise melted.

No point arguing when he said it like that.

She tucked her face into his neck, breathing in the mix of his sweat, his cologne, and something distinctly him. It wrapped around her like a safety blanket.

Jey carried her down the short hall to the bathroom, nudging the door open with his foot.

He set her down gently on the edge of the tub, giving her a quick peck on the lips before crouching down to run the water.

The faucet squeaked a little as he twisted the knobs, steam quickly filling the room. He fiddled with the temperature, letting it get nice and warm but not too hot, just the way she liked it.

“You want bubbles, mama?” he teased, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Cherise gave him a sleepy, sassy look. “I always want bubbles.”

He chuckled and grabbed the fancy vanilla and honey-scented bubble bath she kept on the counter next to her body scrubs. Poured a generous amount under the running water until the tub filled with thick, fluffy foam. He also dropped in one of her bath bombs, the glittery pink one she never used unless she really needed a self care day.

She watched him in silence, something soft and full tugging at her heart as he moved. Shirtless, sweat still glistening on his brown skin, tattoos flexing over muscle and bone. But it was the care in his movements that did it. The way he tested the water again, adjusted it for her. The way he reached for her towel, fluffed it, and set it near the edge of the tub like he’d always belonged here.

While it filled, Cherise grabbed her phone from the counter and flipped on a playlist. Snoh Aalegra’s voice filled the room, sultry and smooth, fitting the intimacy that bloomed between the two.

Jey turned back to her, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face, his thumb lingering along her jawline.

“Get in, pretty girl,” he said, voice all soft gravel.

Cherise smiled shyly and climbed into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a content sigh. It lapped up her shoulders, bubbles clinging to her brown skin, and instantly started easing the aches deep in her muscles.

Jey watched her, eyes hungry and tender all at once, like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“Damn, you look good even sittin’ in bubbles,” he muttered, stripping off his boxers and stepping in behind her.

Cherise giggled, wiggling back against his chest once he settled, his legs bracketing her hips, his arms wrapping around her middle.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, utterly boneless.

They soaked in silence for a few minutes, the water sloshing gently as Jey shifted to press slow, lazy kisses to her damp shoulder, her temple, her cheek.

Then Jey reached for a loofah, soaping it up with slow, deliberate hands. "Let me take care of you, baby," he murmured.

He washed her slowly, starting with her back, dragging the warm cloth in slow circles over her soft skin, pausing to kiss the nape of her neck every now and then. Then her arms, lifting them gently, his big hands squeezing and massaging as he cleaned.

When he got to her chest, he hesitated.

"You trust me?" he murmured low against her ear.

Cherise nodded, breath hitching.

"Good," he said, so soft it made her eyes sting. "Gon’ take my time with you, baby."

He cupped her breasts reverently, sliding the cloth over her nipples, washing them slow and tender, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone between strokes.

Cherise whimpered, her body arching into his hands.

"Relax, baby,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. "Just takin’ care of what’s mine."

She melted into him, letting him soap every inch of her—down her thighs, over her knees, between her toes, laughing when he tickled her and groaning when he got too close to her pussy without meaning to.

"Mm-mm," she said, catching his wrist. "We tryin’ to get clean, she’s closed for business.”

Jey chuckled low, licking at the shell of her ear. "You sure, baby? ‘Cause one lil’ moan and I’ma forget what mission we on."

She laughed, leaning back against him fully, feeling his heart beat steady against her back.

“She is closed for business, Joshua," she teased.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder. "Whatever you say, pretty girl."

He ran his hands over her arms, slow and soothing, tracing the curves he already knew by heart.

“You so beautiful, baby,” he whispered against her skin. “I swear to God.”

Cherise blushed, biting her lip.

Her hand reached up to rest over his, their fingers intertwining lazily beneath the bubbles.

They sat like that, breathing each other in, for what felt like forever.

The music changed ushering in Jodeci. Jey chuckled low in her ear, his chest rumbling against her back. “Ayy, this my shit.”

Cherise laughed softly. “You so old, Jey.”

“Nah, you just a baby, mama. I’m cultured.”

She snorted. “Cultured, my ass.”

He squeezed her gently around the waist, his teeth grazing her shoulder playfully. “Watch your mouth, lil' girl.”

Cherise giggled, wriggling against him, sending ripples across the bath.

“Mmm, you so wild,” he murmured, smiling into her skin. “I love it.”

Her heart skipped.

Even now, even post-orgasm, post-vulnerability, post-everything…he said it so easy.

I love it.

Like loving her was easy and natural.

She turned slightly, enough to see his face, wet hair clinging to his forehead, bubbles sticking to the tribal tattoos on his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what, baby girl?”

“For…caring. For not running. For still being here. Even when I gave you every reason to.”

Jey’s eyes softened, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw gently, thumb brushing across her cheek.

He kissed the curve of her shoulder. “You ain’t never gotta thank me for that.”

Her voice dipped softer. “I was scared you wouldn’t wanna deal with all of it.”

“Baby girl,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Ain’t nothin’ you could tell me that would make me walk away. That ain’t how I’m built. Especially not when it’s you.”

Cherise turned slightly in his arms, enough to meet his eyes.

He reached up and brushed her damp curls off her cheek, then tucked a finger under her chin.

“You mine,” he said quietly. “And I don’t mean that in no possessive, weird-ass way. I mean…I choose you. Every version. The soft one, the stubborn one, the hurt one, the healing one. All of you.”

Her chest squeezed.

God, she was so stupid for pushing him away.

Cherise shifted, turning fully in his lap now, straddling his hips in the warm water, bubbles sliding between them.

Jey blinked up at her, his hands instinctively settling on her hips.

“Damn, mama…” he murmured, low and admiring, his gaze sweeping over her. “You tryna start somethin’ now?”

Cherise smiled, shy but sure.

“Nah,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his. “Just…wanna be close to you that’s all.”

Jey groaned softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You already are, baby girl. I’m right here.” He tapped her chest, over her heart. “Right here.”

Cherise kissed him.

Soft and slow. Not rushed or desperate. Just themselves.

Jey kissed her back like he had all the time in the world with his hands stroking up and down her back, keeping her close, making her feel wanted, loved, safe.

The bath water sloshed gently around them, bubbles clinging to their bodies, the music playing low in the background.

♡

The bath lingered longer than it should’ve. Neither of them wanted to move. But eventually, the water cooled, and Jey stood first, pulling her up with him and wrapping her in the big white towel he’d grabbed earlier. His hands lingering as he dried her off slowly, like he didn’t want to let go.

He dried himself next, putting on a fresh pair of boxers as Cherise helped him apply some of her unscented body oil on his body. He glanced around at the chaos in the bedroom from the hall—disarayed pillows, wrinkled and damp sheets, the twisted comforter hanging halfway off the bed. “Go sit down, baby. I got the sheets.”

“You sure?” she asked, holding the towel to her chest.

Jey nodded, grabbing her comforter with one hand and pulling the fitted sheet off with the other. “You think I’mma let you lay on sweaty ass sheets after I done wore you out?”

Cherise snorted, watching him tug the corners tight and smooth the fabric out like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Okay, Mr. Domestic,” she teased, walking past him to grab her body butter from the dresser.

He looked over his shoulder at her, grinning. “Ain’t no way I'm lettin’ my girl sleep in no nasty ass bed. You deserve better than that, mama.”

She doesn’t know how many times she has swooned over something he has said to her already but she guesses this is her 80th time.

Once the sheets were fresh and the pillows were fluffed, Jey patted the mattress.

“Lay down, pretty girl.”

She raised a brow. “For what?”

He took the jar of her body butter from her hands. “’Cause I ain’t done pampering you yet.”

She smiled shyly but obeyed, lying on her stomach on the fresh sheets he’d thrown over the bed.

Jey straddled her thighs, his hands warm and firm as he opened her favorite body butter—the mango-shea one she obsessed over—and scooped out a generous handful.

"You smell so damn good,” he muttered, smoothing it over her back.

Cherise giggled, sighing as his strong hands started kneading into her shoulders.

He found knots she didn’t even know she had, thumbs digging deep into the tension beneath her skin, coaxing it out slow and patient.

“You tense, baby,” he murmured, his thumbs digging into the tight knots along her shoulders.

“Been a rough few weeks,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“I know.” His voice softened. “We gon’ fix that.”

He rubbed slow, deep circles into her shoulders until she was practically purring beneath his hands.

"Mmm, damn, baby," she moaned into the pillow. “I could fall asleep just like this.”

He chuckled, low and pleased. "Jus' tryna make sure you ain’t wakin’ up stiff tomorrow."

He worked his way down—back, the dip of her spine, the swell of her ass—kneading and rubbing and kissing every spot that made her whimper.

"You spoilin’ me," she mumbled sleepily.

"I’m supposed to, baby girl," he murmured, kissing between her shoulder blades. “It’s what you deserve.”

Then, gentle as ever, he flipped her onto her back and started on her front. Collarbones, breasts, arms, even her belly, rubbing the butter into every soft, beautiful inch of her.

When he finally finished, Cherise was boneless and glowing, her skin glistening in the low light, the scent of vanilla and sugar wrapping around her like a blanket.

He wiped his hands clean and pulled her up gently, helping her into one of her bed shirts and a fresh pair of cotton panties.

Then he tugged on his grey sweats and slid into bed beside her, pulling her back against his chest like she was the softest, most precious thing he’d ever touched.

They lay like that for a while, limbs tangled, skin still warm and glowing.

Then Jey mumbled into her curls, “You think I ain’t notice you wearin’ my hoodie earlier, girl?”

Cherise froze, then turned her head slowly. “…What hoodie?”

He bit back a grin. “The one you definitely snatched from me after that first night. I saw it behind your back when I was leaving.”

She groaned, hiding her face in the pillow. “I knew it.”

Jey kissed the back of her head, smirking. “It was cute. Had me feelin’ like I had a girlfriend.”

“Do you?”

“Damn right I do.”

Cherise could feel her cheeks flush against her pillow, she couldn’t even compute a smart remark to say back in her head so she just remained silent but snuggled closer to him.

"Baby girl?"

"Hmm?"

"You free Friday?"

Cherise tilted her head back to look at him. "Why?"

He smiled, slow and sweet. "I’m takin’ you out."

Cherise blinked up at him, heart skipping a few beats. “You serious?”

"I’m serious, Cher," he said, his voice turning a little more earnest. "I wanna do this right wit’ you. You get dressed up, I’ll pull up in a suit lookin’ fly as hell, and I’mma spoil you like you deserve.”

Her heart twisted in the best way.

"You sure you ready for all this?" she teased, lifting a brow. "I’m kinda of a lot." Jey grinned. "I’m ready for all that and then some," He kissed her slow, sweet. "You ain't never gotta doubt it again, pretty girl."

Cherise buried her face in his chest, hiding her stupid, wide-ass smile. "I’d like that," she mumbled. Jey chuckled, squeezing her tighter. "Mmmhmm. Knew you would."

They laid there tangled up, drifting off to sleep the city lights blinking softly outside her window, their future wide open before them.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

Cherise believed it.

Maybe she could have something good.

Maybe she already did and just didn’t know at first.

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[fountainfever]

Trigger warnings: kidnapping, non-con, manipulation,crime organization, pregnancy complications.

The bass from the club’s speakers rattled the floor, and the scent of expensive perfume hung in the air like a velvet curtain. Simon Riley, the most feared mafia boss on the East Coast, sat in his private booth overlooking the dancefloor. His dark eyes, as cold and calculating as a blade’s edge, scanned the crowd with idle interest—until he saw her. She wasn’t like the others, with their manufactured smiles and hungry stares. No, she moved with a kind of unintentional grace, laughing genuinely with her friends, unaware of the wolf that had just set his sights on her.

Simon sipped his whiskey slowly, the gears already turning in his mind. She was stunning—long hair cascading down her back, a dress that hinted at curves but didn’t flaunt them. Her innocence was intoxicating in a world so thoroughly soaked in corruption. His underboss leaned over and muttered something about business, but Simon waved him off. Tonight, there was a different prize he intended to claim. He was a man who never asked twice, and once he wanted something, it became his. That was how he built his empire—and it would be no different with her.

As the night grew darker, he made his move. Simon sent two of his men to intercept her as she made her way to the restroom. They approached casually, smiles on their faces, pretending to flirt. Before she knew what was happening, she was ushered through a side door, her protests silenced with a cloth soaked in a sweet chemical scent. Her last sight before darkness took her was Simon, standing just inside the exit, smirking as though he had just caught a butterfly in his hand.

She woke up in a room that looked more like a palace than a prison. Gold accents lined the furniture, thick velvet curtains blocked out the daylight, and the bed beneath her was softer than anything she’d ever known. Her head pounded as the events of the night came flooding back. Panic set in quickly. She leapt from the bed, searching for an exit, but the heavy door was locked from the outside. Moments later, it opened with a creak, and in stepped Simon, dressed impeccably in a black tailored suit, his presence filling the room like a thundercloud.

At first, she fought him—furious, terrified, demanding to be released. But Simon was patient. He didn’t shout or raise a hand to her. He simply sat, calm and immovable, explaining that she belonged to him now. The sheer arrogance of it was infuriating, but there was something more—something magnetic in the way he spoke, in the way his dark eyes seemed to see straight through her defenses. Over days that blurred into weeks, his careful attention chipped away at her hatred, confusing it with a kind of reluctant fascination.

She learned his real world was one of danger and power, of loyalty bought with blood and betrayal punished by death. But he treated her differently. He shielded her from the violence, kept her wrapped in luxury, indulged her whims with a tenderness that didn’t match the reputation that preceded him. Against all logic, against all reason, she found herself craving his touch, longing for the security of his arms. By the time he first kissed her—slowly, almost reverently—she was already lost to him.

The weeks became months, and their passion grew wild and reckless, a secret flame burning between them. One late evening, as a storm battered against the windows, she realized she was late. Panic seized her at first, but Simon’s reaction stunned her. When she told him, he didn’t shout, didn’t curse. Instead, he knelt before her, placed a hand on her still-flat stomach, and whispered something in Italian that she didn’t understand—but somehow felt in her soul.

The pregnancy was not an easy one. From the beginning, there were complications: relentless nausea, dizzy spells, an aching fatigue that clung to her bones. Simon became even more protective, forbidding her from leaving the mansion, hiring the best doctors, surrounding her with every luxury imaginable. Yet there were nights she would lie awake, feeling the life growing inside her, and wonder what kind of world her child was about to be born into. Could there be safety in a life built on violence?

The day her water broke, a cold fear unlike anything she’d known gripped her. Simon was at her side instantly, barking orders, his usual calm fractured by worry. The labor was brutal. Hours stretched into eternity. The doctors’ faces grew more tense with every contraction, and when they finally realized she was carrying twins, not one child as they had believed, the room turned chaotic. She drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain consuming her, until at last—two sharp cries filled the air.

When she woke again, it was to the sight of Simon cradling two tiny swaddled bundles in his arms, tears streaming freely down his face for the first time she had ever seen. He pressed one of the babies—an impossibly small, perfect girl—into her arms, and then the boy, strong and stubborn even in sleep. She was weak, trembling, but when she looked into their faces, all the fear melted away. She understood then: she would kill for them. She would die for them. They were her entire world.

Simon sat beside her on the bed, their babies between them, and took her hand in his. His voice was rough with emotion as he made her a vow—not just to protect them, but to change for them. He would carve out a future free of bloodshed, if not for himself, then for his family. It would not be easy; enemies circled like vultures, and the old life was not so easily abandoned. But he meant it. For the first time, the king of the underworld bowed to something greater than himself: love.

And so the girl who had once danced in a club, oblivious to the eyes that watched her, became the queen of a world she had never even known existed. Not a prisoner. Not a possession. But the heart that tamed a monster. Together, they would build an empire—not of crime, but of family, loyalty, and love stronger than any blood feud or bullet could destroy. It would not be perfect. But it would be theirs.

[xoxomilesteller]

#icanteven

fwb!reader x cj braxton | MDNI

cw: mentions of underage drinking, addiction, cheating (again..), angry/rough sex (protected), cursing

wc: 1.9k

fic & title were both inspired by #icanteven by the neighborhood!

you and cj met at alcoholics anonymous, both underage heavy drinkers. but the thing about addicts, is that usually, when they give up one addiction, they fall into another.

for you and cj, it happens to be sex.

you both decided it should be best to not start a relationship, well really, you suggested it and cj was a bit.. hurt, he wanted something serious, but you didn’t. you know how you are, you don’t like commitment and weren’t willing to test if you’re ready for a relationship on cj, because you didn’t want to lose him. being friends with benefits with someone is more freeing, you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do. and even when cj started talking to jen, you guys still remained friends.

you felt some jealousy towards jen, but you just felt that maybe it’s because she was starting to spend more time with cj. instead of you and cj, it was jen and cj, especially at the stand.

but what cj failed to mention, was that he was actually dating jen. he didn’t know why, but he just didn’t want to tell you.

you guys had fallen into that spiral, you told cj that you wanted a drink, not that you actually had one recently and broke your sobriety.

which is why when joey told you, “cj is such a good boyfriend to jen,” your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets. you didn’t know what you felt entirely, but mainly, betrayed. and already, you’re at a party that a male friend, tyler, invited you to. where there’s drinks.

cj had invited you too, but you declined because of the drinks. you don’t even know why you said yes to tyler. you don’t know a lot of things.

you start searching around for tyler, wanting to let him know that you’re leaving.

you don’t understand why you’re overreacting, why you’re even contemplating a drink over someone you’re not even romantically involved with because you chose not to.

it’s just betrayal.

you have a graveyard shift with jen at the stand tomorrow, so maybe she’ll say something about it.

so once you find tyler, you pull him in for a make out session in front of many people.

is it immature? yes.

but is it better than drinking? absolutely.

and tyler doesn’t back away either, because he has a crush on you, which you know about.

making out has always seemed to solve your problems, besides drinking. if you felt a wave of overwhelming emotions, you’d just call cj if he wasn’t already there and stick your tongue down his throat.

but it’s not the same with tyler. his mouth tastes like alcohol, which isn’t good. he’s moving his mouth slowly against yours, instead of cj’s usual quicker and steamier style.

cj is mid walking with jen when he stops in his tracks at the sight of you kissing another man. 

he’s jealous. and pissed.

“tyler,” jen smiles, “he’s a nice guy,” she tells cj.

“mhm,” is all cj can get out, the feeling of his stomach churning at the sight, “let’s go”

the graveyard shift is when the stand gets a lot of calls. you get there first, setting up your station and you see cj walk in.

“isn’t supposed to be me and jen today?” you ask

“i’m covering for her,” is all he says. 

he actually asked jen if he could cover her shift because he wanted to talk to you, but just at the sight of you, his blood is boiling.

it’s quiet at the stand. really quiet. both you and cj have things to need to say to each other, but neither one of you are willing to say it out loud. thankfully, it’s only you two, because anyone else would feel extremely uncomfortable at the tension between you two.

you decided to break the silence, “you and jen are dating,” it’s not a question, but a statement

cj sips his coffee, “not my girl”

you scoff, “that’s not what joey said”

“i wasn’t the one with my tongue down someone else’s throat,” he places his cup of coffee down on the desk rather harshly. 

“right,” you nod, “you have a girlfriend”

cj licks his lips, “she’s not my girlfriend, you’re not my girlfriend”

“so why are you pissed about me kissing someone else?”

he huffs, “do you think i’m overreacting?”

you widen your eyes, “yes”

he throws his head back on the chair, “you can’t even say that”

“what?” you sigh, face scrunching up in confusion

he stands up from his chair, “you told me I wasn’t like anyone else”

it is the truth.

you also stand up, crossing your arms, “i say whatever comes to mind when you’re inside of me, can you blame me?”

cj is slightly taken aback by that comment but he dryly chuckles, “you can’t ever admit when you’re wrong, can you?”

your mouth twitches, “i didn’t say either of us were right or wrong”

he groans in disbelief, “you always gotta be right, don’t you?” he takes a few steps closer to you, “but you treat me like every one else you’ve fucking met”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

cj is now chest to chest with you, “that you made me think i was special, guess i’m not”

you raise your hand up, palm to his face, “you say a lot of things you don’t mean when we have sex too, don’t even start with me”

he roughly exhales, nostrils flaring, “i don’t mean them?”

“friends-“

“with benefits, right? that’s all we are? ‘cause friends with benefits get jealous when they see their girl kissing another man?”

you open your mouth to state his contradiction, but he continues, “‘cause friends with benefits tell each other how much they mean to each other in one of the most vulnerable moments a human can go through?”

“shut up,” you clench your jaw

“you cheated on me,” he says through gritted teeth, “do you even feel bad at all?”

“we’re not dating”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way”

“if that’s your argument, you cheated on me first,” you point your finger at his chest

“we’re on the same page then? we cheated on each other?”

“n-“

cj cuts you off, placing his mouth on yours and shoving you onto a desk. your legs hook around his waist, hands going under his shirt. his hands are everywhere. sliding up your back, tugging on your hair to pull you closer. you bite on his bottom lip, a broken sound erupting from his throat. he pushes you down on the desk, your head bumping a keyboard.

“ouch cj,” you hiss

he slips his hand under your sweatpants, toying with the waistband of your panties, “did i cross your mind at all?”

cj is pissed. so are you. he has no right to be mad. but this is fun, so you provoke him.

“no, you didn’t,” you lie

he slides another hand up to your throat, not putting any pressure at all, just simply holding you still, “you’re a fucked up person,” he whispers

“we met at a place for fucked up people, cj”

he nips at your neck, pulling your pants and panties down to your ankles, “guess you’re right,” he presses two fingers on your slit, “fighting with me makes you this wet?”

“you say that like you’re not hard right now”

“doesn’t make what you did okay,” he rubs tight circles on your clit, “i can’t even believe what you did to me”

you chuckle, “you act like i killed someone”

“oh no,” he smiles, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “you played with me”

“how?”

he stops rubbing your clit to pull his pants and boxers down enough to free his length, he rolls on a condom, biting his lip and lining himself up with you, “you told me we should just be friends with benefits,” he circles his tip around your entrance, “so i’m gonna ask you again, am i like everyone else?”

“you’re my friend,” you say, not wanting to give him what he wants

he shoves himself inside of you, all at once. your nails scratching the hard wood of the desk while your moan and walls flutter around him.

“you drive me insane,” he whispers in your ear, 

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you whisper back

his hands gripping onto your hips roughly, “since we started talking, i wanted you,” his fingers dig into your soft skin, “then you go and tell me some bullshit but fuck,” he moans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, “i couldn’t say no.”

it’s taking all of cj’s willpower to not moan at every syllable, but he has to tell you this. but fuck him, it’s hard. your moans at every bruising thrust, they way you’re gripping around him perfectly, it’s all making it impossible for him to just give in.

“and then you go and play with my head, telling me i’m your person,” his hand returns to rub your clit again, “telling me i’m the only one that can make you feel this way,” he buries himself deep inside of you, stilling, “tell me it’s true,” he looks at you with pleading eyes, “tell me what you said is all true”

you don’t know if it’s true or not.

your silence speaks a lot of volume to cj.

“got it,” he nods once, his hips returning to that brutal pace, “i mean when i say this, that we’re over, ‘cause everything that i’ve ever told you, is all true”

your eyes snap open, “no”

“yes”

“no”

“did you mean it?” he places his forehead on yours. when you still don’t give him a response he asks again, a lot harsher, “did you mean it?”

to you, it’s hard to form incoherent thoughts because cj does know how to make you feel good. all you know and feel is the approaching orgasm, his tip hitting your spot, his body against yours. you don’t know why you’re so scared of accepting that you’ve formed something more than just sex with him.

each thrust shows how jealous he is, angry, and something more, like genuine care for you. this is the first time cj has ever been this rough.

“i don’t know,” you strangle out, walls clamping down on him, “you make me say stupid shit”

“so it’s stupid?” he raises his brows, fingers applying more pressure to your bundle of nerves

“i don’t know,” you moan loudly, gushing around his cock, body arching off the desk

his hips start moving sloppily, “alright,” a moan getting caught at the back of his throat. he buries himself inside of you again, shooting inside of the condom and quickly pulling out.

his lips graze yours, giving you a chance to kiss him as a way to prove to him that you do know something at least.

but you don’t.

“oh fine then,” he stands up straight, discarding the condom, “don’t kiss me or talk to me, see how much i care,” he readjusts his pants, so he’s fully decent again and walks back to his chair

you stare at him.

he’s never not taken care of you afterwards.

he usually cleans you up and you both stay in each other’s arms.

you pull your panties and sweatpants back up, “cj, you’re overreacting-“

he scoffs, “i’m done, this is over between us”

AN: FIRST CJ FIC OMG

banner by: @elleisdesigning

tags: @redhairedgardenfairy

[magicalbuttertarts]

Okay so picture it. Papi has been with reader for about six months. He is finally meeting the three most important people in her life. Including her best friend's six year old son whom reader considers her nephew. They take him to the carnival and reader falls in love with him as he takes her nephew on all the rides making her nephew at the end of the day asking Papi 'Are you going to be my uncle?!' and Papi says something along the lines of 'One day if your Aunt Y/N allows me to love her forever.'

WWE Masterlist

Fluff Prompt List

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: none

WC: 789

Requested by @terrortwinunicorn

©️magicalbuttertarts 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

"I am so happy you could come Luis." I said my boyfriend of six months.

He travels a lot, and he now has a bit of a time off, which I sadly was not expecting as I made plans to take care of my best friend's son.

"I am more than happy too sweetheart." He said to me as he placed his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze as he drove.

By the time we got to my best friends house, her and her son were waiting outside.

I could see the excitement on little Mikey's face, as he was clutching the straps of his backpack, ready for a day at the carnival.

As Luis and I got out of the truck, I saw the suprised look come over Becca's face as she saw Luis for the first time, in person that is.

Becca has seen him in photos and on TV, always saying how tell he looked on TV.

She hid her shock at how tall he is actually is as I introduced the two of them.

Her husband came out of the house, excited to finally meet the man who I have been seeing for six months, but also to meet one of his favourite wrestlers.

"We have to go out to dinner soon." Craig insisted, wanting to know Luis a bit more.

"Yes, we can make plans later, but now, it is time to hit the road. Don't want to miss out on anything at the carnival do we?" I asked as I kneeled down to Mikey's eye level, who shook his head no.

I grabbed Mikey's hand, as the three of us walked back to the truck, Luis helping him in.

◇

We have been here for hours, and I just watched the Luis and Mikey just get along. Luis took Mikey on almost all the rides.

Helped him win at some of the carnival games, so much so that we are now walking around with a giant, green giraffe, which Mikey insisted on carrying it around, but it was taller than he was.

"Hey little man, why don't I carry that just for a little while. Don't want it to get dirty, now do we?" Luis suggested.

"Okay." Mikey agreed as he noticed his new toy was dragging along in the dirt.

The afternoon turned to evening and I knew it was time for us to leave as the sun was starting to set.

"One more ride, please?" Mikey begged me, but I coupd tell how tired he was.

"One more, and then we head home." I said as I sat down on a bench in front of the carousel.

"How about your Aunt sits this one out, and I take you on the carousel. I'll even let you pick which one." Luis said as he looked at Mikey and then me.

"Okay." Mikey tiredly said, even though he was still excited.

I mouthed thank you to Luis, and he just blew me a kiss.

I watched as Luis held Mikey's hand, my heart fluttering just a little at the scene.

I already knew I was falling in love with Luis, but today just sealed the deal for me, and that is saying something as I do not love easily, but Luis, he made it easy to love him.

Damian Priest's POV

Mikey and I waved to her as the ride went around.

"Luis?"

"Yes little man?" I looked over at him.

"Are you going to be my uncle?"

As we went around once more, I saw her sitting there, holding on to that big green giraffe, waving and smiling at us.

"One day, if you Aunt will have me." I told him honestly, which seemed to appease him for now.

As the ride ended, I helped him off the horse.

"If you get married, can I be in the wedding?"

I knew from a previous conversation with her, that Mikey was upset he wasn't at his parents wedding, even though he wasn't born yet.

"Yes, and you can help me plan the proposal, but we have to keep that a secret between us, until I ask your mom and dad help with that as well."

A huge smile came over his face and I could tell he was going to get excited, and she will ask him why he is going so excited.

"Remember it is a secret until I tell your parents okay? Don't want your aunt to know just yet, okay?"

"Okay." Mikey said as he placed his index finger over his mouth, before placing his hand back in mine, as we walked over to his Aunt, with images of her walking down the aisle flashing through my mind.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @terrortwinunicorn @blackwingedmisanthrope @sunshinevirus

[alotofpockets]

No looking back | Steph Catley x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Nightmares again?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

One miss-step in the first leg of the semi-finals. One goal conceded because of it. One defensive mistake that haunted Steph's dreams that night.

When you woke up you immediately noticed that something was off. Steph wasn't her usual cuddly and cheery self. She was awake already and staring at the ceiling with a serious look on her face.

You turn and cuddle into her side “What's going on, darling?” You ask after you kiss her cheek. “Just a nightmare.” Steph shrugged. “Wanna talk about it?” You tried, even though you knew the answer. “Not right now.” You press a kiss to her cheek again. “That's okay. I'm here to listen when you change your mind.” Steph nods, “I know, thank you. I'm gonna go for a walk with Calvin, to clear my mind.” 

When she stood up to go out with Calvin right away, you knew she needed some space. You stayed in bed a little longer to wake up properly, and then made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast for everyone.

Calvin's bowl was already set up, and you were just plating your and Steph’s breakfast when they got back. Steph took off Calvin's collar, and he quickly ran to you. “Oh good morning, buddy, I missed you too.” You say giving him a big cuddle. “Come on bud, I’ve got your breakfast.”

The moment you turned back around, Steph wrapped her arms around you tightly. You quickly hug her back, and hold her tight. Moments like this you knew she needed you to hold her until she let go, so you held close until she pulled back. “Thank you for breakfast.” She said after pecking your lips.

In the following days the same pattern repeated. Steph having nightmares, not wanting to talk about it, taking Calvin out to clear her mind, and you have breakfast ready for when she comes back. When Steph would be ready to talk about her nightmares she would come to you, all you could do in the meantime was be there for her.

The morning Steph would leave for Lyon, you woke up to Steph once again already being awake and staring at the ceiling. “Nightmares again?” Your voice is still groggy from just waking up, but you’re genuinely getting worried about her now with the amount of nightmares she has had the past week. 

“Yeah, I keep replaying the mistake I made in the first leg.” You sat up a little to be able to look at Steph while she spoke. “Then I keep seeing all kinds of nightmare situations where I mess up again, and cost us the Champions League. Like a different way I let the team down each time. What if I will be the reason that we lose? I would never forgive myself if a mistake from me in both legs costs us a spot in the final.”

You reach out for her hand, “Darling, you are an amazing defender. An amazing footballer. Everybody makes mistakes, and what happened in the first leg wasn’t even really a mistake. You only misstepped because you were giving everything in you to try and defend that striker.” 

Steph shakes her head, “My everything wasn’t good enough.” You squeeze her hand, “You might not have been able to stop her, but that doesn’t mean that your everything wasn’t good enough. Yes they scored, but you were not the only factor that led up to that goal. Plus you had plenty of blocks after that goal, you fought back until the very last second, and you should be nothing but proud of your performance.” You knew that just your words weren’t going to be enough to convince her, but you could try, right?

“You’ll get back on the pitch Sunday, and you can give it your all again. Take what you learned from the first leg with you, but you’ll keep your focus on the match at hand. No matter the results, I am so proud of you.” Steph stayed silent for a moment while she played with your hand.

“Do you think we can turn it around?” She asks after a while. “Yeah, I do. With the mentality you and the team have, I know you will fight for it until the very end.” That seemed to be enough for Steph as she turned to you and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, for everything.” You hug her back and let your head rest on her chest, “Always.”

You flew out to Lyon a day later to watch the game live at Groupama Stadium. Arsenal fans had come out in big numbers. The atmosphere from the moment you got there had been amazing. You were sitting with some of the other family members from the girls, chatting while you watched them warm up.

Steph had noticed you in the crowd and sent you a little wave. She seemed well rested, and strong. She had texted you after her training session that she was feeling a lot better, and that having talked about her nightmares had helped a lot. You were hoping that she would be able to fully leave the “mistake” in the last game and focus on this one.

You watched Arsenal come back from a deficit, the whole team was playing strong. Steph played so well. She made some incredible blocks, and was able to play her way out of tricky situations. You were so incredibly proud watching her performance on this top level.

When the final whistle blew your section went wild. Tears sprung to your eyes as you watched the girls run onto the pitch, celebrating the win. Meanwhile you were hugging all the family members of the girls around you, they had done it, and you were all so immensely proud of them.

After the initial celebrations on the pitch the girls were all walking around. That’s when Steph looked for you again. Her face lit up when she saw you again, wearing her jersey proudly. She pointed and waved at you, and you both knew exactly what it meant. 

Down on the pitch you saw Alessia walk up to Steph to pull her along to the stands. You had been sitting next to Alessia’s parents, so Alessia pulled Steph along to go up to you.

The moment she reached you she fell into your arms. “You did it, darling. I am so proud of you.” She smiled into your chest. “No looking back, only this moment.” You lean back to be able to see her face. “Only this moment.” You repeated.

-----

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[astoopidfool]

👨‍👨‍👦 is really speaking to me!

Thank you so much for the ask. It means so much to me to get these, you don't even know.

I'm not very far into this story yet so it's still kind of the nitty-gritty "in the beginning" type stuff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I'm sorry I can't write more today, I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and got way sidetracked doing other things to prepare.

------

Months and months pass. They spend endless hours talking with Hen and Karen about the process; Karen was so patient explaining the ins and outs of the ordeals, and Hen gave so many details about what agency they used and the different options they had.

Evan spent hour after hour after hour online, researching. He discussed each option endlessly with Tommy, and even though Tommy thought Evan was overthinking it, he listened with rapt attention because… Well.. He wanted this to be perfect for them. For his husband. When they eventually settle on an agency, they get to work finding a birth mother.

They discussed whether they preferred a boy or a girl, but decided it didn’t matter. Evan wanted a baby, though, and Tommy would have rather had a toddler to start with. After talking it over, with plenty of reassurances from Evan, they decide to go the infant route. The giddiness sets in.

A few weeks into the process, their agent mentions a home visit. “Evan and Tommy, I’m so glad that you’ve decided on adoption. There’s so many kids out there that deserve loving homes and you two seem like an amazing opportunity.”

Evan smiles so broadly at the phone that his cheeks look like they’re about to split. Tommy takes one of his hands and brings it to his mouth kissing his knuckles before settling it back on the table. “We’re so excited, Emira. This… I… We’ve been waiting a long time.”

There’s softness in her voice when she replies, “Yes, I can imagine. I know you two have already started searching out potential mothers, but before we get too far, we need to discuss a home inspection.”

“Home inspection?” Tommy asks, raising his brows. He knew that was something that happened, but he thought that was only for those who planned to strictly foster. “Why do we need one of those?”

She laughs brightly. “No need to sound so alarmed, Mr. Buckley-Kinard. We’re not there to white glove your home and inspect every single nook and cranny of your space. No. What we’re there for is to ensure that you two have the proper environment for raising children. Obviously we’ll do a walk through of the home, but there’s no need to do any extra cleaning before we come - we want to see what the child’s environment will be like day to day - and then we’ll sit down and have a conversation about the two of you; mostly what you do for work, what your relationship health is like, do you have a support system, and things of that nature. The day of the in-home visit, you’ll need to block off a minimum of two hours, though depending on the size of your home, it may take significantly longer. I, personally, would suggest taking the day off since the home visit can’t be split into separate days. You’ll also need copies of some personal data, such as your birth certificates, but we can discuss that close to the day of the event. Does that all make sense?” She pauses, a bit breathless but still cheerful.

Evan huffs an overwhelmed laugh. “Wow, um… That’s a lot.” Tommy rubs his back. “So we can’t pick a mom until after these visits? How many do we have to go through?” The conversation continues as Tommy continues to be a reassuring presence at Evan’s side. A few more months pass, and Tommy can tell that his husband is losing steam. He wants a child so badly, but there’s so many hoops to jump through. They survived the home visit, though they were questioned extensively about their jobs. Both of them being in high risk professions put up red flags for the interviewer, but once Tommy explained that he mostly flew air transports, she seemed to be assuaged and passed them. Flying colors they were not, but at least they weren’t blocked before they even truly began.

[rhageyrhage]

The Bartender and the Brat

Chapter 2 - The Aftermath

Please read on below the break.

Her POV

She was gone. The wall against her back was just pressure now. His hips, his cock—thrusting into her again and again, hitting so deep it felt like he was carving his name into her womb—that was the only thing anchoring her. Her voice had dissolved into moans and sobs, a wet chorus of helpless, desperate need. The only sounds surrounding them was a chorus of wet slapping from his cock diving into her leaking pussy while their bodies collided. She’d already come once. She should’ve been spent. But he wasn’t done. And neither was her body. “Sylus—” she gasped, hands scrabbling at his back, nails digging deep. “I—I can’t again, I can’t—” He pulled out halfway and slammed back into her, forcing her up the wall, forcing her to feel every thick, brutal inch. Her cry echoed through the room, sharp, breathless, real. “You can,” he growled. “And you will—when I say.”

His POV

Fuck, she was beautiful like this. Not just the arch of her back or the tight heat of her cunt pulsing around him—but the fight in her. The way she resisted right up until the moment her body betrayed her, until the bratty fire in her eyes turned to pleading embers. But she hadn’t said it yet. Not the word he wanted. She hadn’t even hinted at begging him. He needed to tame her, make her break not just physically but mentally as well. He reached up, fisted her hair, pulled her head back—not cruel, just enough to make her eyes lock with his, wide and trembling. “Say it.” He demanded. She whimpered. Bit her lip. He fucked into her harder, once, twice—deep—until her walls fluttered around him, until her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. “Say it, kitten. Say please. Beg me to let you come.”

Her POV

She wanted to hold out. She was stubborn. Always had been. But fuck… her clit throbbed, her core spasmed, and her whole body felt like it was suspended on a thread pulled taut and fraying. Tears welled in her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure—from how badly she needed to come and how desperately she didn’t want to break for him. But he was already inside her. Not just her body—he seemed to be in her mind to know what she needed and how to best take care of her. She didn’t even have to say the words. And the moment his hand cradled the back of her head—fingers still tight in her hair—and he leaned in…And kissed her temple. Soft. Gentle. Like he saw her. Like he knew her struggles and wanted to take them from her. The fight collapsed in her chest like ash. “Please,” she whispered, voice trembling, broken. Then louder. “Please, Sylus… let me—”

His POV

That was it. The way her voice cracked. The surrender in it. He didn’t answer with words. Just grabbed her tighter, wrapped one arm around her back, the other around her throat, holding her together as he drove into her with everything he had. No teasing. No holding back. Just pure, blistering possession. “Come for me sweetheart,” he growled against her ear. And she did. Just as he commanded when he commanded.

Her POV

Her orgasm hit like a wave made of fire—ripping through her, stealing her breath, stealing her thoughts. She cried out his name, her body bucking, thighs locking around his waist as if she could pull him into her, deeper, closer, forever. She didn’t care if she broke. She wanted to. And in that moment—heart pounding, mouth slack, tears on her cheeks from the intensity—she realized…She wasn’t escaping anything. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t lost in her mind. Burdened with her past. She was being found. She was living in the moment. She was feeling alive again.

His POV

He held her through it. Held her as she shattered, moaned his name, sobbed and pulsed around his cock like her body didn’t know how to stop. He kissed her temple again—this time with reverence. And then he came too. Hot. Hard. Buried inside her with a groan that sounded like relief. He might have finally met his match. This was not a woman who was like the others.

They didn’t speak at first. Just breathed. Still tangled. Still together. His hand on her back. Her fingers in his hair. No need for permission. No more walls. Just the quiet aftermath of something real.

Her POV

The world blurred around her, soft and golden like a fever dream. Her thighs trembled, still wrapped around his waist. Her chest heaved against his, damp skin sliding against damp skin, slick with sweat and come and surrender. She could still feel it inside her—him inside her—his cock twitching in the aftermath, thick, still seated so deep it was like he was holding her open, keeping her from falling apart completely. She didn’t know when her hands had slid into his hair. Didn’t know when her forehead dropped against his shoulder. All she knew was the sound of their breathing—harsh, tangled, desperate. And the way his arms tightened around her without a word. She didn’t feel the need to demand he put her down. Didn’t need to warn him he was going to hurt himself.

His POV

She was wrecked. The good kind of wrecked—the kind that couldn’t be faked, couldn’t be undone with a few pretty words. Red cheeks. Glassy eyes. Lips swollen from kisses she’d tried to fight and failed. His marks were already blooming across her throat, faint bruises from where he claimed her with teeth and tongue. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, frantic and fading, like a wild thing finally caught. Good. She needed to be caught. Needed to be tamed like a wild mustang. He shifted slightly, dragging her back against the wall so he could free one hand—one thick, rough hand sliding up her spine, over the nape of her neck, threading into the damp mess of her maroon hair. Not pulling yet. Just holding. “You’re mine now,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, voice a low growl, so intimate it sank straight into her bloodstream. Not a question. Not a request. A fact. He would now allow her to deny him.

Her POV

The words hit harder than his cock had. Something inside her cracked wide open, hot and messy and terrifying. Mine. No one’s said that to her in years. No one had dared to mean it. Somehow she knew instinctively that he did mean it. This was not a vacant promise. Her throat tightened, a sob and a moan tangled up together, but she swallowed it down, like the good little brat she wasn’t ready to stop being yet. Her nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself to. She wanted to sass back, say something sharp and wicked. To lessen the suffocation of his seriousness. But when she tried, the only thing that came out was a broken whisper as tears fell down her face: “Yours.”

His POV

Fucking perfect. He shifted his grip in her hair, pulling her head back just enough so he could look her dead in the eyes—those stormy, tear-glossed eyes that tried so hard to stay hard, to stay untouchable. “Too late, kitten.” He leaned in and kissed her temple, slow and brutal in its tenderness. Then he tugged her hair hard enough to make her gasp, her body arching against his again, the motion grinding her swollen clit against his pelvis, drawing another helpless moan from her ruined mouth. “You think we’re done?” he murmured, mouth grazing the corner of her lips. “You’re gonna come again, pretty girl. Gonna cry for me this time, aren’t you?” He ground into her, slow and relentless, not thrusting yet, just pressing, making her feel every hard inch still pulsing inside her. “You’re going to feel and live in this moment not just push through it.”

Her POV

“Oh god! Oh fuck!” She could already feel the pressure building again, cruel and sweet, twisting low in her belly. Every slow grind against her sore, slick folds made her shudder, made her walls flutter, desperate, aching. She shook her head weakly, half in denial, half in plea. “No,” she whimpered, voice cracked, raw. “I can’t—It’s too much.” He chuckled darkly against her ear, the sound vibrating through her body, through her core. “You will,” he said. “You will, baby girl.” And then he bit her, the top of her shoulder—hard—as he started to move.

She was unraveling again. Every slow, brutal thrust sent shockwaves through her battered, aching core—still slick, still swollen from the last orgasm he ripped from her. He didn’t fuck her fast. He fucked her deep—each slow grind more unbearable than any frantic pounding could have been. Dragging the thick, pulsing length of him out until she whimpered, only to slam back in, filling her so completely she couldn’t breathe. Every movement was a demand. Every inch was a reminder: You’re mine now. She writhed against him, head spinning, nails clawing at his shoulders, torn between running from the overwhelming sensation and chasing it, sobbing into the crook of his neck. And he knew. He knew exactly what she needed—more than she knew herself.

His POV

He felt her shaking against him—legs trembling, cunt clenching, a helpless, messy brat trying so hard not to drown. He slowed down even more, grinding in tight circles against her sensitive clit every time he bottomed out, forcing her body to betray her mind again and again. Each time she whimpered, he tightened his grip in her hair and praised her low against her ear: “That’s it… good girl… feel it, don’t run from it.” She sobbed—a broken, desperate sound—and the sound lit him up from the inside out. She was so close. So fucking close. He could feel it—her whole body tensing, fighting, needing. He pulled her head back to make her look at him. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Mouth open. Completely wrecked. “Come for me,” he growled. “Look me in the fucking eyes and come.”

Her POV

She shattered. No warning, no way to stop it. The orgasm slammed into her like a car crash—violent, unstoppable, stealing her breath, stealing her thoughts. She screamed, body convulsing, clenching down on him so tight he cursed into her mouth. Her vision blurred. Her ears rang. She was afraid she passed out for a moment. And when she sagged against him, boneless and whimpering, he caught her. Held her. Didn’t let her fall.

They stayed like that. Pressed together. Breathing each other in. Time blurred. Reality thinned. But when he finally slid out of her—slow, careful—he noticed the way she winced. Not from pain. From loss. She tucked her face into his shoulder, shivering a little, and he knew: The fight’s over. She’s mine now. He grabbed his jeans off the floor, one hand still steady on her back, thumb stroking her skin with unconscious tenderness. When she didn’t move to dress herself, just sagged against the wall, lost, he crouched in front of her, forcing her eyes to his. “Where are you staying?” he asked, voice low but dangerous. She blinked at him, dazed. Swallowed hard. “I… don’t know,” she admitted, voice cracking. “Nowhere. I just… kept walking.” There was no lie there. No performance. Just a girl too stubborn to ask for help. Too broken to think she deserved any.

His POV

Fuck. That punched through his chest like a bullet. He stood, grabbed her soaked clothes, and shoved them at her—not rough, but demanding. “Get dressed.” She flinched like she thought she’d done something wrong. He caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. “You’re coming with me,” he said, slow and firm, like a man delivering a goddamn decree. “No arguments.” Her bottom lip quivered. He could see her start to protest. He gripped her chin forcing her to meet his eyes. “No. Arguments.” She nodded. “Good girl.”

The night swallowed them whole as he drove.

His black pickup, smelling faintly of leather and smoke. He turned the heat on high to warm her soaked body. His hand rested heavy on her bare thigh the entire way—not groping, just there, anchoring her to reality, to him. She stared out the window, silent except for the occasional tremble he could feel through his fingertips. Every time she shook, he squeezed her thigh. Every time she sighed, he dragged his thumb in slow circles over her skin. He didn’t talk. Didn’t ask stupid questions. He just was there. Solid. Unmovable. Hers.

They arrived and parked outside of his home. The place was small but in a good way. Brick walls. Heavy wood. A little messy but real, lived-in. Smelled like cedar and whiskey and him. He led her inside by the wrist, not yanking, not rushing. Just holding. He dropped her jacket over a chair and turned to her, dark eyes sweeping over her like she might disappear if he looked away.

“You’re not leaving,” he said simply. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow either, unless you really fucking want to.” She opened her mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to thank him—he didn’t give her the chance. He cupped her face in both hands, thumbs brushing the dried streaks on her cheeks. “You don’t have to fight alone anymore.” It broke her. Finally fucking broke her. The sob tore out of her throat before she could stop it. She crumpled against him, fists tangling in his shirt, crying—not just from fear, not just from exhaustion—but from the unbearable relief of finally being seen.

He held her there. Silent. Steady. One hand stroking her back. The other threading into her hair, cradling her head against his chest. Mine, he thought savagely. All fucking mine. And he wasn’t just going to fuck her into oblivion again. He was going to build her back up. Piece by trembling piece. He was going to make sure no one, not even she, could make her feel broken and unseen again.

[foxaftershocks]

A Meddling Brother (Mycroft Holmes x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Sherlock has an insane favour to ask you of you, but it might just end up getting you everything you ever wanted.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: jealousy

“You want to do what?”

Sherlock wasn’t even looking at you, eye pressed to the microscope as he searched for something. He’d summoned you to his flat with a text, expecting your appearance in that way he did. You’d entered the flat and without so much as a greeting he’d said the most out of pocket thing you’d ever heard.

“I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend to annoy Mycroft,” he said.

“Yes, that’s what I thought you said,” you replied. 

“You have questions,” he said.

“Bloody right I do,” you said, “mainly why?”

“Do you not listen? I want to annoy Mycroft,” he said.

“Sure but why?” you asked.

“He’s been keeping secrets,” he replied.

“If there’s one thing we can count on from Mycroft, it’s keeping secrets,” you said, “why would pretending to date me annoy him? I doubt he’ll care much.”

Sherlock snorted but didn’t answer your question. You rolled your eyes, falling back into his chair. 

“He’s going to know immediately we’re lying,” you said, “he’s better at the deduction thing than you are.”

He glanced at you before going back to his microscope.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. 

“Fine, but don’t blame me when this doesn’t go the way you expect it to,” you said, “and you owe me a massive favour to be cashed in whenever I want.”

“Yes, yes, fine, whatever,” he said.

“Cool.”

You sat, watching him, waiting for some kind of further discussion or information but it appeared as if he was done. You curled up in the seat, picking up the book John had left lying around, choosing to read it while you waited for the next part of his plan. 

He didn’t seem surprised when Mycroft came calling not even half an hour later. You looked up from your book, smiling at him. He paused a moment, his eyes sweeping over you, so obviously lounging in his brother’s chair. Your legs were thrown over the arm, bare, still in your pyjama shorts. 

“Hi,” you said.

“Good morning,” he replied, “busy day for you it appears.”

“Can’t complain,” you said.

“I’m assuming my brother is here,” he said.

“Kitchen,” you said, opening the book once again, “been in there since I got up.”

Technically true, given the first thing you’d seen that morning was the text for him, asking you to come downstairs to him. You’d even made your own cup of tea in his kitchen, in your hands, half drunk as you continued to read. 

Mycroft’s eyebrows drew together. You looked up at him as you took a sip of tea, quirking an eyebrow. You’d always had a way of wordlessly communicating with Mycroft, understanding his facial expressions better than most. It was one of those things that made you think you could sometimes see the man under the ice. You quite liked the view you got.

“You’ve been here all morning?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why? Was I meant to be somewhere else?” you asked.

“He probably expected you to wake up in your own bed,” Sherlock called through to you.

“You spent the night here?” Mycroft asked.

“It’s been known to happen,” you said, “and Sherlock has a very comfortable bed.”

“He let you sleep in his bed?” He was full of questions today.

“Where else would she sleep?” Sherlock asked.

“Her own bed,” he replied, raising both eyebrows like it was obvious.

“I was hardly going to send her back up there when she was already in mine,” Sherlock replied.

His head was slow as it turned back to you. You gave him a small smile, going for bashful but perhaps coming off a bit smug. His lips pursed as he turned back to Sherlock. He stepped into the kitchen, obviously shutting you out of the conversation. You went back to the book, trying to ignore their hissed conversation.

You startled when a kiss was dropped on the top of your head, a warm body perching on the arm of the chair beside your head. You looked up, smiling at Sherlock. His arm curled around your shoulders.

“Can you get on with your reason for being here? Only we have lunch plans,” he said, his smug grin turning on Mycroft.

He was looking less than pleased at his baby brother, fingers tightening on the umbrella in his hands. You lent against Sherlock’s side, looking at Mycroft expectantly.

“I’ll have the files sent to you,” Mycroft said before sweeping out of the flat.

“He came a long way to just tell you he was sending you some files,” you said, “he could have phoned.”

“He planned on staying longer. Plans change,” he said, getting up from the arm of his chair and returning to his microscope. 

“Changed quick then,” you said.

“I told you. I was hoping to annoy him,” he said.

“And that worked, did it?” you asked.

“You know it did,” he said.

“I still don’t get why though,” you said, following him, resting a hip against the counter.

“Don’t you? It must be so quiet in your brain,” he said.

“Right. Thanks. Text me if you need me,” you said.

“Dinner tomorrow,” he said, “my parents are insisting.”

“Fine,” you called over your shoulder.

Sitting across from his parents reminded you why the whole thing was a stupid idea. Mycroft was glowering behind his menu, not looking at anyone, foot bobbing. It was close enough for you to feel it, almost close enough to touch your leg. Sherlock’s arm was slung over the back of your chair, telling his parents exactly how the two of you had fallen in love. Your eyes kept darting over to Mycroft who was doing his best not to listen. You lent towards him.

“You okay?” you whispered.

“Fine,” he replied, voice tight, still not looking at you.

You lent back, further into Sherlock’s embrace. Mycroft’s fingers tightened on the menu. You looked away, back towards his parents. If he was annoyed or unhappy it was on him to say so, not throw a tantrum like a child. You couldn’t imagine why he would be. Unless he didn’t want you there.

You’d been the buffer between himself and his parents multiple times before. It made no sense that this time he was annoyed at your presence. Hell, half the time you thought he enjoyed your company, lingering when you were around a lot longer than when it was other people. This was like a smack in the face. 

“Of course, we really must thank Mycroft. If he hadn’t sent us off to the Devon coast we never would have admitted this was something we both wanted,” Sherlock said.

“Oh Myc, you’re such a matchmaker. Always looking after Sherlock,” his mum said, grasping his wrist.

“Mycroft,” was all he said in a growl of a voice. 

It wasn’t until dessert that he looked up at you instead of moodily staring down into his own plate of food. Sharing a slice of cake with Sherlock, you happened to glance up, finding blue eyes staring back at you. You felt frozen, the absolute anger so unlike anything you’d seen directed at you from him.

A thumb grazed the corner of your lips. Your attention turned back to Sherlock, just in time for his lips to press to yours for a soft kiss. It was surprisingly nice, if unexpected. Who knew Sherlock Holmes was a decent kisser? He drew away, a soft smile on his lips. 

“You had some chocolate,” he said, voice low, intimate, making you wonder how he got so good at this. 

“Thanks,” you replied, equally soft.

The scrape of a chair made you jump. Mycroft was already striding towards the exit by the time you looked over. Sherlock settled more comfortably in his chair, leaning back. You dropped your fork to the plate with a clatter. 

“Okay, you've annoyed him, you can stop now,” you said, “it’s gone too far.”

“Yes, fine, go run after him,” he said with a wave of his hand.

You hated doing what you were told but you did want to follow Mycroft. So you did. Slipping past tables, you pushed out the front doors, expecting to have to chase him down. Looking down the street, you found him standing a few shops down, cigarette in hand, staring out at the rain.

Ducking under awnings, you made your way to him, trying to stay as dry as possible. He didn’t even glance at you as you stopped by his elbow, sheltered under this umbrella.

“That was quite the performance,” you said.

“You should return to the restaurant. Sherlock won’t like you being out here with me,” he replied.

“I don’t see why he’d care that much,” you replied.

It was a very droll eye roll that brought his gaze down to you. Your raised eyebrow only caused him to purse his lips. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, slow to blow the smoke out, away from you, still considerate even in his annoyance.

“You are his girlfriend. He is hardly my biggest fan. He would not want you to focus your emotional energy on me,” he replied, “not that I ever believed him capable of having a girlfriend.”

“Careful, Mycroft, you’re sounding bitter. Jealous?” You nudged him with your shoulder.

The look he gave you was so cutting you were shocked you were still in one piece. 

“You really don’t think he’s capable of having a girlfriend?” you asked when it became clear he wasn’t giving you an answer.

“Sherlock is hardly like you normal people. He’s never indicated it was something he wished for before,” he said, “you must be special.”

“I like to think so,” you said, looking down at your scuffing feet. 

When you looked up, he was gazing down at you with such an expression of aching you felt yourself reel back. You stared up into his face, trying to piece together why he would be looking like that. Why he would be so upset about you being with Sherlock. Why Sherlock thought you being his girlfriend would annoy him. 

A seed of hope began to bloom in your chest.

You lent closer, watching the way his eyes darted down to the place your arm brushed against his. He brought his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply. You inched closer. His eyes darted down to you.

“Mycroft, are you jealous?” you asked.

“Why would I be jealous?” he asked, trying to look as if he was unbothered. You knew him better than that.

“You seem jealous,” you said. 

“There is no reason to be jealous,” he replied.

“No?” You inched closer, practically pressed against his side, “you’ve never wanted to be the one I was in a romantic relationship with?”

“You think highly of yourself,” he said.

“You’re deflecting,” you said, grinning up at him. 

“It doesn’t much matter, given your feelings for my brother,” he replied.

“And what are my feelings for Sherlock? Go on, do your deduction thing,” you said.

His eyes swept over you before he turned away, looking back out onto the rainy street. His cigarette was almost down to the filter, and you were certain once he was done he’d be walking away. There was no returning to the table after the exit he’d given. 

“Go on. Or aren’t you as good as you pretend to be?” you goaded.

“You’re comfortable around him and being in his space. You’re comfortable being physically close to him. You smile at him a lot. You enjoy spending time with him,” he said, “conclusion, you have romantic feelings for him.”

“Interesting,” you said.

“Is it? I don’t find it particularly so,” he replied.

“Well, I’m just wondering if those same things could be applied to someone else,” you said, “if you’ve noticed me having the same symptoms around someone else?”

“It would be rather unfriendly to my brother if I had,” he replied.

“So you’ve never seen me smile at another man a lot? Or enjoy spending time with another man? Or be comfortable being physically close to another man?” you asked, smiling up at him, your arm brushing his from how close you were. 

He didn’t answer, staring down at you, eyebrows drawing together. You waited, wondering if that big beautiful brain would be able to put the pieces together. 

“Are you suggesting you have romantic feelings for multiple people?” he asked.

“I’m suggesting that perhaps your conclusion is faulty,” you replied.

“Does my brother know?” he asked.

“That I’m not particularly interested in him romantically? Yeah I’d say so,” you replied.

“Then why was he playing happy families with you?” he asked.

“That’s a question for him,” you replied with a small shrug, “I’d rather find out why you were so jealous when you thought I did.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said.

“No? You weren’t hoping I’d flash my pretty smile in your direction?” you asked.

He dropped his cigarette, crushing it underfoot as he put out the smouldering end. You sighed, knowing he was about to walk away, taking the umbrella and your refuge with him. In desperation, you grasped his forearm. He froze, looking down at it, but you refused to let go until you got some answers. 

“Sherlock was right. It does annoy you that I’m with him,” you said, “why?”

“Sherlock is a meddling busybody.” he muttered.

“Why?” you asked again.

He didn’t answer, jaw clenching, staring down at you. Your fingers tightened on his forearm, refusing to let him out of the question.

“Mycroft,” you whispered, “why?”

He shook his head. You sighed, wondering why you bothered. You drew back, ready to step out into the rain and go home. You were tired of dealing with these brothers and the games they played, especially when you were put in the middle of them. You took a step away, tensing for the cold rain, only to find him following you with his umbrella.

“He believes I’m fond of you,” he said, “I suppose this was his way of forcing the issue.”

“Mycroft,” you said, heart doing a backflip in your chest.

“Of course this could have been his way of proving that you prefer his company to mine. Not a fact I needed to be demonstrated as it’s one I’m well aware of,” he carried on before you could say anything else.

“Why would you think that?” you asked.

“I know how I come across. I don’t collect pets like Sherlock does. I’m not built for it,” he said.

“Are you fond of me?” you asked.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said.

“Not to me it’s not,” you said.

“Yes, I suppose I’m fond of you,” he said.

“It’s a good thing I’m not dating Sherlock then, isn’t it?” 

You pushed up onto your toes, hand curling around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He jerked back, a full story of emotions going over his face. Horror filled you. Stumbling back, your heart was thudding in your chest. You’d overstepped the line so completely. 

The wash of cold water left you gasping for breath. 

“Sorry,” you said to him, still sheltered under the umbrella, “oh god, I’m so sorry.”

You were ready to turn tail and run. He was never going to want to see you again, Only then he was dropping the umbrella and reaching for you. He swept you up into his arms, kissing you like a drowning man finding air. You wound your arms around his neck, letting him lift you as he kissed you with a desperation that took your breath away. 

“Isn’t that just so romantic?” a familiar voice said, breaking through your haze.

He was slow to lower you back to the ground, careful with you, almost gentle. When he did, you didn’t want to turn away, knowing you were going to find an audience watching on and that would be more than you could handle. Embarrassment was already eating away at you, the cold from the rain not making it any better.

“Couldn’t you have waited until I didn’t have to be around to see that?” Sherlock asked, sounding like a whining teenager. You rolled your eyes.

“No,” Mycroft replied, curling an arm around you protectively.

You turned, finding Sherlock and his parents safely sequestered under the closest awning. Mycroft stooped to retrieve his umbrella, lifting it above your head, sheltering you once more from the rain. His arm tightened around you as you began to shiver, keeping you pressed against him.

“Oh leave him be, Sherlock,” his mum said, swatting at his arm, “don’t ruin this for him. It’s his first time in love.”

“Is it?” you asked, looking up into his face.

“I told you. I’m not built for this,” he said.

“You are when it’s with me,” you replied, pressing up onto your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. His low groan was soft enough only you could hear it, a giving in to you, a relief that he was getting what he’d been yearning for for so long.

“Seriously, can’t you contain yourselves?” Sherlock asked.

“Nope,” you replied, “it was lovely seeing you again, Mr and Mrs Holmes. I hope you enjoy the musical.”

You grabbed Mycroft’s hand from your back, threading your fingers together. Tugging on him, you began to walk down the street, not really sure where you were going, but knowing you wanted to be alone with Mycroft. He followed you, letting you lead, looking a little dazed.

“I suppose Sherlock also knew that I have a crush on you,” you said, musing on it, “he really was playing matchmaker.”

“Don’t give him the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to vex me,” he replied.

“Still, it worked, didn’t it?” You squeezed his hand.

“Yes, I suppose it did,” he said, gazing down at you.

Your shoulder bumped against his arm. You couldn’t keep the grin from your face, not able to keep your eyes from darting up to him. It was hard to believe this was actually happening, that Mycroft wanted you too, that he was allowing you to do this with him. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I’m lucky,” you said, “that I’m really really lucky to be here with you.”

Something in him softened, a small smile on his face lighting him up. 

“I believe I’m the lucky one, my dear,” he said.

“We’re both pretty lucky,” you said.

He paused at the lights, bending slightly to press a kiss to the top of your head. You tipped your head up, and he took your unspoken instructions, kissing you softly. You sighed, certain you were never going to grow tired of the feeling. 

“Definitely lucky,” you murmured when he pulled away.

Who knew a meddling Sherlock might just be the best thing to ever happen to you?

[musubiki]

okay but does he kiss her the moment he sees her again or is it the same as the reunion youve mentioned before

ITS THE SAME REUNION!!!!! he saves the payback kiss for later when hes not emotionally overwhelmed just by seeing her again (and everyone else is also there..,,he wants it to be an intimate moment)

so probably later that night or a few days later when he has her all to himself for a moment,.. @_@