#he worked night shift up until last year and i was always waiting up for him till 4am

[sincerelybubbles]

first time shy bay reader takes down a unsub like fighting wise and the team is all like that tiny soft thing just did that

soft hands, strong heart warnings: cannon-typical violence, child kidnapping, happy ending!!! paring: hotch x shy!reader wc: 6.9k

I really took this and RAN I hope u enjoy despite how long it took to finish <3

||||

It's been a long day. You woke up late after a night of restless sleep, already cranky, only to take the jet to help with a child kidnapping.

The jet hums low beneath your feet, a steady, thrumming vibration that does little to soothe the exhaustion creeping up your spine. Your fingers tighten around the file in your lap, eyes scanning over the unsub’s profile again and again, as if some new revelation might emerge if you look hard enough.

The case is grim. They always are, but something about children going missing twists a deeper, more painful knot in your stomach. A six-year-old girl, last seen playing in her own backyard before vanishing without a trace. The parents had been inside, only distracted for a few minutes. Just long enough.

Just long enough.

You shift in your seat, forcing yourself to unclench your jaw. Across from you, Spencer mumbles statistics about abduction timelines, but his voice fades into the background, white noise alongside the engine. Morgan and JJ are discussing the search grid, Emily nodding along, throwing in suggestions. Rossi and Hotch are quiet, deep in thought, but you can feel the weight of their presence.

You’re normally content to listen, to observe, but something sits uneasily in your chest. The tiredness, the frustration, the sheer helplessness that simmers every time a child is taken. You want to do something.

"Landing in twenty," the pilot calls back.

You swallow, fingers tightening around the case file one last time before closing it. Twenty minutes until you hit the ground running. Twenty minutes until you find the first real clue.

Twenty minutes until you bring her home.

As soon as the wheels touch down, the tension in your chest tightens like a coil, winding and waiting. You barely notice the shuffle of your teammates gathering their things, their quiet discussions about strategy and protocol. Your mind is elsewhere—on the little girl’s photo still burned into the back of your eyelids, on the parents who must be unraveling with fear, on the horrifying reality that she could already be lost.

You take a slow breath and try to shake the thought.

You’ve been doing this long enough to know that fear is useless if you let it swallow you whole. You need to focus. You need to trust the process.

The others move with ease, their routines carved into muscle memory. Morgan and Emily fall into step ahead, their hushed voices blending into the background noise. Reid flips through the file, lips moving soundlessly as he recites information under his breath. JJ is already on the phone, likely with the local PD, while Rossi speaks lowly with Hotch.

And then there’s you.

You feel the weight of your own presence—or lack thereof. You know you contribute, you know your skills are valuable, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that you’re always just a few steps behind them. Not as seasoned as Rossi, not as commanding as Hotch, not as sharp as Spencer or as fearless as Morgan.

A breath. Then another.

You push forward, following them down the jet stairs into the thick summer heat. The moment the air hits you, heavy and humid, it cements something in your bones.

This isn’t about you.

It’s about the little girl who needs you to be better than your doubts.

You wipe your palms against your pants and fall in step beside Hotch, listening as he updates the team.

“The local PD has set up a command center near the family’s home,” he says, his voice steady, unshaken. “The father is cooperative. The mother is distraught, but JJ will work with her. We’ll split up—Reid, Morgan, and Emily will coordinate with local officers to rework the search grid. Rossi and I will speak to the parents.”

You wait, knowing your name is coming last.

Glancing down at you, Hotch says, “you’re with me.”

Something tightens in your chest. He doesn’t offer an explanation, but he doesn’t need to. You know he trusts you to handle difficult conversations, to read between the lines of grief and guilt.

You nod, and just like that, the team breaks apart, each of you moving toward the unknown.

You don’t know what’s waiting for you at that house.

But you know you’ll be ready.

||||

The car ride is quiet, the kind of silence that isn’t uncomfortable but sits thick between you and Hotch, filled with unspoken thoughts. The distant hum of the siren-free police escort ahead of you blends with the rhythmic tap of his fingers against the steering wheel—measured, thoughtful. You let the movement lull you for a moment, eyes blinking slowly as exhaustion presses against the backs of them.

He notices. Of course, he does.

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, not a question, just a statement. His voice is softer than it was during the briefing, less BAU Unit Chief and more Aaron.

Your head tilts toward the window as if that will shield you from the knowing look you can feel on you. “I’m fine,” you say, though even to your own ears, it sounds weak.

Hotch doesn’t press immediately. He never does. Instead, he lets the silence stretch, lets the words settle between you before he tries again. “You’re running on empty.” His voice is even, but there’s a thread of concern woven through it.

You swallow, unsure of what to say. Because he’s right. You’re running on the fumes of caffeine and resolve, and you know better than anyone that’s not sustainable. But what else are you supposed to do? Sleep through the knowledge that a child is missing? That time is slipping through your fingers with every second you waste on rest?

“I can handle it,” you say, quieter this time, as if that will make it more true.

Hotch sighs, glancing at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. His jaw is set, but there’s no frustration in his expression—just understanding.

“I know you can,” he says, because he does. He’s seen you push through exhaustion before, seen you carry the weight of cases without breaking. But that doesn’t mean he likes watching you do it. “That doesn’t mean you should have to.”

His words settle somewhere deep, somewhere vulnerable you don’t often acknowledge. It’s been a long time since anyone has told you it’s okay to take a breath. That you don’t have to bear everything alone.

Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, but his voice drops just enough that it feels like a secret meant only for you. “You don’t have to be invincible.”

Something in your chest pulls tight at that. You open your mouth to respond, to deflect, but nothing comes out. Because what are you supposed to say? That you don’t know how to let your guard down? That you’re afraid if you stop moving, even for a second, the weight of everything will catch up to you?

You don’t have to say anything.

Hotch already knows.

Without a word, his hand drifts from the gear shift to rest gently on your knee—brief, grounding, a quiet reassurance before he returns it to the wheel. It’s nothing, and it’s everything.

You don’t thank him, but he doesn’t need you to.

You just sit in the quiet, and for the first time all day, you let yourself breathe.

The silence stretches, thick and heavy. You let yourself sink into it, into the warmth of the car, into the soft hum of the tires against pavement. But reality is cruel, unwilling to let you drift too far, and Hotch is still the one beside you—ever watchful, ever focused. He lets you rest, but only for so long.

“We’re working against the clock.” His voice slices through the quiet, steady but firm. “Every hour that passes, the chances of recovery drop. The parents received the ransom demand at six this morning, which means the kidnapper has been in control for over twelve hours now.”

You blink against the haze clinging to your mind, forcing yourself to straighten. The exhaustion dulls, edged out by the weight of the case settling back onto your shoulders. You know all of this. The case was laid out in agonizing detail back at Quantico, in the rushed debrief on the jet, but hearing it again—like this, in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, with Hotch’s voice carving it into your mind—it makes the pressure feel suffocating.

“The demand was for two hundred thousand,” you murmur, rubbing at your temple. “It’s not about the money.”

“No,” Hotch agrees. “If it were, the amount would be higher. The parents could afford more, and the unsub knows that.”

The word tastes bitter on your tongue before you even say it. “Control.”

Hotch nods, gaze fixed on the road ahead. “They’re enjoying this. They want to watch the parents suffer, to dangle the possibility of return in front of them just to pull it away.” His fingers flex against the wheel, and something flickers across his face—anger, maybe, or something darker. “They won’t give her back. Even if they get the money.”

You don’t respond immediately. You don’t have to. He’s right, and you both know it.

Your stomach twists.

A missing girl. Eight years old. Her favorite color is purple. She was last seen wearing her school uniform, a plaid skirt and white blouse, her hair tied into two braids with lavender ribbons. The ribbons feel like a knife in your ribs, something small and innocent and so utterly helpless.

You could still be too late.

The thought makes your pulse spike, your fingers curling against your thigh. Your mind is still slow from exhaustion, sluggish with the weight of too little sleep, but the dread cuts through it like a blade.

Hotch notices. Of course, he does.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “We still have time.”

You nod, but it feels hollow.

Time. Such a fickle, cruel thing. Time only matters if you can use it right.

Hotch exhales sharply through his nose, reading your silence for exactly what it is. He slows the car just slightly as the road curves, voice lowering even further. “We’re going to find her.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, just for a second. The words are meant to reassure, and maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. But he says them with certainty, and right now, that’s enough to cling to.

The tension is suffocating, coiling tight in the space between you. The lull in the conversation feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. You shift in your seat, trying to shake the haze from your mind, trying to prepare yourself for whatever comes next.

The case isn’t going to get easier.

And neither of you have the luxury of slowing down.

||||

Another hour passes. Time ticks, a constant reminder, and the team gathers together near the parents after yours and Hotch's initial interview.

The house feels hollow.

It’s not empty—far from it. The parents sit on the couch, pressed together like they’re trying to hold each other up, faces drawn and pale. Rossi and Prentiss hover near the windows, speaking in hushed tones as they wait for Garcia to dig up more on the family’s history. Reid sifts through financial records at the dining table, eyes flicking between printed bank statements and his own notes.

And then there’s Hotch.

He stands near the fireplace, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that way that means he’s thinking—assessing, planning, pulling every thread of the case into something solid. You’re beside him, posture tense, exhaustion settled deep into your bones. The interview had been long, draining. Watching the parents crumble under the weight of their own grief, their own fear, had been like standing in the center of an emotional storm with nowhere to go.

You haven’t spoken in a while. Not since you wrapped up the last of your questions and let the silence stretch, heavy with unsaid things.

The mother sniffles, curling further into herself. Her hands tremble where they clutch a framed photo of her daughter, fingers ghosting over the glass. “She—she’s afraid of the dark,” she whispers, voice wrecked. “She can’t sleep without her nightlight.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat.

The father rubs a hand over his face, drawing in a shuddering breath. “You’ll find her,” he says, more to himself than to any of you. “You have to.”

Before anyone can respond, the phone rings.

The room freezes.

For half a second, no one moves. The shrill sound cuts through the air, deafening, slicing through the fragile quiet with cruel precision. The mother gasps, clutching the picture frame tighter, and the father lurches forward like he might reach for the phone himself.

Hotch reacts first.

He turns to you, gaze sharp, controlled. “Answer it.”

Your heart lurches.

There’s no time to hesitate. You push forward, crossing the room in three quick strides, and lift the receiver before the call can go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

A low chuckle hums through the line. Slow. Calculated. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“You picked up,” the voice drawls, smooth as glass. “I was hoping you would.”

The breath you take is slow, measured. You adjust your grip on the receiver, grounding yourself in the weight of it.

“You were hoping I would,” you repeat, voice steady, even. There’s a slight edge to it now, a sharpness lurking beneath the surface. “That’s an interesting way to phrase it.”

Another chuckle, this one richer, like he’s savoring something. “You don’t sound like her mother.”

Your eyes flick toward the woman on the couch, shoulders shaking, husband gripping her hand in a white-knuckled hold.

“I’m not.”

“Hm. And here I was expecting tears. Begging.” A pause, deliberate. “Disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You don’t react. You won’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, you tilt your head slightly, mind working, peeling apart every word he says. He wanted the mother to answer. He wanted the display of fear, the helplessness. This is about control, about knowing he has the upper hand—not just over the little girl he stole, but over her parents, too.

But he didn’t get what he wanted. And that alone is a crack you can widen.

You exhale, slow, and when you speak, you lace your tone with something just shy of boredom. “Did you take her for attention?”

Silence. Then, “Excuse me?”

You lean against the desk, crossing one arm over your stomach, settling deeper into your stance. Your exhaustion fades, burned away by adrenaline, by the sharpness of your mind locking into place.

“I mean, the whole charade. Calling the parents, expecting tears—seems like you’re looking for something. Maybe validation? You want to feel powerful?” You hum, tapping your fingers against your arm. “Let me guess—you don’t get that very often.”

His breath sharpens.

You hit a nerve.

Good.

“I wouldn’t be so arrogant if I were you.” His voice darkens, but there’s something underneath it. Something unsettled. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

You let a beat of silence pass before responding, voice smooth. “You’re right. But I will.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. You imagine him, wherever he is, gripping the phone tighter, jaw clenching.

“You’re not as quiet as you think,” you continue, calm, firm. “Not as untouchable. You think you’re in control, but I promise you, this won’t end the way you expect it to.”

His breath catches, just barely.

He wasn’t expecting this.

You glance up. Hotch is watching you, unreadable, but there’s something behind his gaze—something steady, unwavering. Approval, maybe. A flicker of admiration.

The unsub exhales, long and slow, like he’s resetting himself. “I have to say,” he murmurs, voice smoother now, masking whatever crack you created. “You’re much more interesting than the mother. I might just keep you around.”

Your grip tightens slightly, but you don’t flinch.

Instead, you smile.

“Good,” you say, letting just a hint of a challenge seep in. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Silence stretches across the line, taut and expectant.

The unsub is recalibrating. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, the way his initial fantasy—the one where he controlled every step of this conversation—has been thrown off course. He thought he’d be speaking to a broken woman, pleading and desperate. Instead, he’s getting you.

And you aren’t playing his game.

You hold steady, spine straight, fingers firm around the receiver. The air in the room feels thick, but your mind is sharp. Clear.

He exhales through his nose, an amused scoff. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

“I am.” The words slip out smoothly, unshaken.

A beat of silence. Then—

“That little girl is very polite,” he muses, shifting tactics. “Very quiet. She doesn’t cry as much as I expected.”

A test. A provocation.

Your stomach twists, but you don’t let it show.

Instead, you adjust your grip, tilting your head as if in casual conversation. “She’s smart, isn’t she?”

The unsub doesn’t answer right away.

“You wouldn’t know, would you?” you press, keeping your tone even, thoughtful. “Because you don’t really see her. She’s just an idea to you—a piece in your game. But she’s real. And she’s waiting for us to find her.”

His breath hitches—just for a fraction of a second, but you catch it.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“You like control,” you continue, relentless now, peeling back his layers with careful precision. “That’s why you called. You wanted to hear her mother break. But instead, you’re stuck with me. And the longer you stay on the phone, the more you’re giving me. I wonder if you’ve even noticed.”

A sharp inhale. You struck something deep this time.

“You think you’re clever,” he sneers, but there’s a shift in his voice—tension creeping in, subtle but unmistakable.

“I think you’re predictable.”

Silence.

It stretches so long, you think for a moment he might hang up.

Then, quietly, “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

You press forward, voice steady, unwavering. “I know exactly what you’re capable of. And I also know this: you wouldn’t be calling if you didn’t want something.”

Another pause.

Then, softer, a low murmur, almost amused—almost admiring:

“I like you.”

Your pulse spikes, but you don’t let it show.

You force yourself to breathe slowly, evenly, like this is nothing more than an ordinary conversation. “Good,” you say simply. “Then maybe we can work something out.”

Another stretch of silence. Then:

“We’ll see.”

The line goes dead.

You lower the receiver slowly, pulse thrumming, the weight of what just happened settling over you like a heavy blanket.

“Garcia,” Hotch says immediately, voice cutting through the tense air as he brings his own phone to his ear.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m working on it!” Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker, high with urgency. “He’s using a burner—signal’s bouncing between towers. I’m trying to pin it down, but he’s slippery. Give me a sec.”

You exhale, pressing the phone to your sternum for a moment before setting it back on the receiver. The pressure of all the eyes in the room—Hotch’s, Morgan’s, Spencer’s—is suffocating. The energy, once hot and commanding while you had control of the conversation, shifts violently back to its usual state. Your shoulders curl inward before you even realize it, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sleeve.

Morgan’s voice breaks through the thick tension first. “That was impressive, tiny.” His words are teasing, but his eyes are serious, scanning you in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You duck your head slightly, heat creeping up your neck. “It—It’s just the work.”

“She did well,” Hotch interjects, voice firm but calm, cutting off any further attention on you. There’s something final in the way he says it, like it’s not up for discussion. It settles something in your chest, just a little.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s enough to find this guy,” Morgan mutters, hands settling on his hips as he shifts his focus back to Garcia. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me you got something.”

Garcia hums in frustration. “I’m working on it. He’s bouncing his signal like a kid on a trampoline. But, but, but—” she draws out, voice lilting, “he stayed on the line longer than last time. Which means he’s getting comfortable, which means he’ll do it again. And when he does…”

“We’ll be ready,” Hotch finishes, nodding.

Spencer, who’s been pacing subtly behind you, suddenly speaks up. “Did you hear the background noise?” He’s staring into the distance, gears turning, hand twitching slightly as he sorts through information at breakneck speed.

Morgan frowns. “What background noise?”

“There was a faint echo—small, but noticeable. It suggests he’s in a space with a lot of reflective surfaces. Could be a warehouse, a basement, maybe an abandoned building.”

“That narrows it down to about a hundred places,” Morgan replies dryly, crossing his arms.

“It’s something,” Spencer counters. “And if Garcia can get a radius from the signal—”

“Which I’m trying to do, but some of us aren’t literal human computers, Doctor Genius,” Garcia cuts in, voice full of affection despite the bite.

“We need him to call again,” Hotch says, shifting his attention back to the phone, back to you. “And when he does, we keep him talking even longer.”

You nod instinctively, but the weight of what just happened presses down harder now that the adrenaline is ebbing. You shrink back slightly, fingers twisting together, stepping just an inch closer to Hotch as the room moves around you.

On the other side of the room, Emily sits with the parents, her voice a steady murmur as she soothes the mother, who is shaking, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“We’re going to find her,” Emily tells her, voice sure, unwavering. “I know this is unbearable. But your daughter is smart. And she’s strong. We will bring her home.”

The mother nods, but she’s glassy-eyed, staring past Emily as though seeing something far away. The father is stock still, hands fisted on his knees, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful.

The weight in the room is thick, suffocating.

Hotch glances at you, just briefly. His hand lifts for half a second—like he might touch your shoulder, reassure you—but he stops himself. Instead, he steps just the smallest bit closer. You feel the warmth of him beside you, steady, grounding.

The phone is going to ring again.

And when it does, you’ll be ready.

||||

The hours bleed together, each one a tightening noose around the room.

It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since the girl was taken.

The parents sit stiffly on the couch, eyes hollowed by exhaustion and fear. The mother hasn’t moved from her spot in hours, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she’s holding herself together by sheer will. The father stares at the wall, jaw clenched, the muscle twitching every so often.

The team is quiet. Not still, not stagnant—but quiet.

Morgan paces, jaw tight, his fingers twitching at his sides. Spencer has a legal pad in his lap, the pages covered in scribbled notes and probabilities, but his pen has stilled. Emily leans against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room, though there’s no real focus behind them. Garcia is still working, rapid keystrokes and occasional murmurs filtering through the speaker on the table, but even she sounds subdued.

And Hotch.

Hotch stands near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the darkened street. He’s gone still in a way that unsettles you—like a coiled wire, all wound tension and too-sharp focus.

You sit on the edge of the armchair, hands folded in your lap, fingers pressing tightly together. You feel small, not in the way you usually do—but in the way that makes your chest ache, in the way that reminds you how big the world is, how cruel.

Because the clock is running out.

You know the statistics.

If a child isn’t found within the first twenty-four hours, the likelihood of their survival plummets.

And you know everyone in this room knows it, too.

The air is thick with it, with the unspoken, with the weight of reality pressing in around you.

And then—

The phone rings.

The sound shatters the heavy silence, sharp and shrill. The mother gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. The father lurches forward as if he might grab it himself, but Hotch is already moving.

He snatches the receiver up, pressing it to his ear. “This is Agent Hotchner.”

A pause. His expression hardens.

He turns, holding the phone out to you.

Your stomach lurches, but you don’t hesitate. You push to your feet, moving on autopilot, reaching out and taking the phone, pressing it against your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice is steady. Quiet.

And on the other end of the line—

A slow, ragged breath.

Then—

Laughter. Low. Amused.

“You again.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Me again.”

You grip the phone a little tighter, forcing yourself to stay steady. Every second that ticks by is precious—Garcia needs time to trace the call, and you need to pull as much information from him as possible.

The unsub breathes out another quiet laugh, like this is some kind of game.

“You’ve got a nice voice,” he muses, casual, unaffected. “Soft. Sweet. Not like the others.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. You don’t react—don’t let him hear the revulsion curling in your stomach. That’s what he wants. A reaction. Control.

Instead, you let out a small, careful breath. “And what about her?” you ask, voice even. ��Is she sweet, too?”

From behind the phone, Hotch shifts. You don’t look at him, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, hear the near-silent hum of approval at your angle. Keep him talking. Make it about the victim.

The unsub inhales sharply through his nose.

“She cries too much,” he mutters, tone shifting. “Won’t stop. Won’t listen.”

Your fingers press tighter around the receiver. You push past the disgust, past the flare of anger clawing at your ribs. You don’t have the luxury of emotion right now.

“You don’t like that,” you say carefully. “You just want her to listen.”

Hotch nods once, subtle. Encouraging.

The unsub exhales, slow, considering. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Exactly.”

You risk a glance at Hotch. He holds your gaze, then mouths, Location. Push him on location.

You take a breath, then lean forward slightly, as if it will somehow ground you. “She can’t listen if she’s scared,” you say, keeping your tone gentle. “She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know what you want from her.”

Silence.

Your pulse hammers in your ears.

“You don’t want to hurt her,” you press, voice just a little softer now. “If you did, you would’ve done it already.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpens.

The unsub hums. “Maybe I just like having someone who listens.”

Your stomach turns.

Morgan paces a few feet away, tense and impatient, but Spencer is watching you closely now, eyes narrowed in thought.

Behind you, Garcia’s voice comes through the speaker, urgent but quiet. “Almost there,” she murmurs.

You grip the phone a little tighter.

“You don’t have to be alone,” you say, and you mean it in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. “But you know this isn’t the way to fix that.”

Another long beat of silence.

Then—

“She’s quiet now,” he says, almost proud. “She finally stopped crying.”

Something in your chest goes cold.

Hotch steps forward, just a fraction, voice low as he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “Ask him why.”

Your fingers twitch. You swallow once, pushing past the ice curling around your lungs.

“What changed?” you ask, keeping your voice even. “Why is she quiet now?”

The unsub sighs, almost dreamily.

“I helped her,” he murmurs. “I made it better.”

A sharp knock of dread slams into your ribs.

And then—Garcia’s voice, suddenly louder, urgent—

“I’ve got him.”

Chaos erupts around you the moment Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker. The team is in motion—Morgan’s already halfway to the door, Spencer on his heels. Emily gives the parents one last firm reassurance before following.

Hotch doesn’t move. He stays close, his presence steady as a hand at the small of your back, silent but solid.

But you barely register any of it.

Your fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles aching.

“What do you mean, you helped her?” Your voice wavers, but you push forward, desperate. “Is she hurt?”

The unsub sighs again, like this is some slow, indulgent conversation instead of a nightmare. “You don’t listen very well,” he says, almost amused. “She was crying. I helped her stop.”

A cold dread drips down your spine, settling like lead in your stomach. Your breath hitches, throat tightening around panic.

Hotch takes a step closer, so near now that you can feel the quiet warmth of him, grounding. “Keep him talking,” he says, low and measured, though there’s an edge beneath it. “We’re almost there.”

Your pulse thrums loud in your ears, but you swallow, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Tell me how,” you say.

The unsub exhales, as if indulging you.

“I held her,” he murmurs. “Just for a little while. Let her cry it out. You’d be surprised how quickly they go quiet when they feel safe.”

Something about the way he says it—the ease, the fondness—makes your stomach churn.

“She’s safe, then?” you push, voice thin. “She’s still with you?”

A pause.

Then, the unsub chuckles. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

Your fingers tighten so hard against the receiver that they hurt.

Hotch is still watching you, reading every minute shift in your expression, every small tremor in your voice. His gaze sharpens, but he nods. Keep going.

“I just need to know,” you whisper. “If she’s okay.”

The unsub hums, something almost pleased threading through the sound. “I think you care too much.”

Maybe you do. Maybe you always have.

But you don’t say that.

Instead, you inhale, slow and shaky, and push out, “I just want to make sure she’s not alone.”

Another pause.

And then—soft, quiet—

“She’s sleeping now.”

The exhale you let out is almost staggering.

Your eyes squeeze shut for half a second, shoulders sagging just slightly.

Hotch watches the tension shift in you, something unreadable flickering through his expression before his voice cuts through the receiver, low and firm. “We’re on our way.”

And for the first time, the unsub hesitates.

You hear it in the way his breath catches, in the faintest rustle of movement.

Hotch tilts his head, eyes locked onto yours as he mouths, Now.

You straighten.

“You don’t want this to end badly,” you say, and this time, there’s no fear in your voice, no desperation—just quiet, steady certainty.

“You want her safe,” you continue. “You want to be heard. And I hear you. But if you don’t let us help, if you don’t let her go—” Your voice lowers, soft but firm. “This won’t end the way you want it to.”

The unsub doesn’t respond right away.

For the first time, you think he might actually be listening.

The unsub doesn’t say another word.

The silence stretches too long, each second stretching, coiling like a wire pulled too tight.

Then—click.

The line goes dead.

You barely register the sharp breath you pull in.

Hotch doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until the phone slips from your hand, caught swiftly by Hotch before it can hit the ground. He presses it into your palm, fingers briefly covering yours, grounding you.

The moment breaks as he turns, striding toward the door. You force yourself to follow, feet moving before your brain fully catches up.

The house blurs past you in streaks of warm light and worried whispers—Emily’s voice soft as she steadies the mother, Spencer murmuring something to Garcia through his headset. Morgan is already outside, loading his gun.

You climb into the passenger seat of Hotch’s SUV, heart pounding too fast, too hard. The door slams shut, and then—motion.

The car surges forward.

The headlights cut through the darkness, the road a rushing streak of black and gold. Streetlights blur past. You grip the edge of your seat to stop your hands from trembling.

Hotch doesn’t speak right away, but you feel his eyes flicker toward you between glances at the road.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.” It’s not a lie. Not really.

Because you don’t have time to think about how your hands won’t stop shaking, how the adrenaline crashes over you in dizzying waves, because none of it matters—not when a little girl is out there, waiting.

Not when you’re this close.

Hotch presses down on the gas, jaw set, gaze fixed ahead.

Neither of you say another word.

Not when you’re this close.

The SUV screeches to a halt behind the others, tires kicking up dust from the abandoned lot. Before Hotch even shifts into park, you’re unbuckling, reaching for your gun, muscles tensed and ready. The second your feet hit the ground, the cold night air burns in your lungs, but you don’t stop moving.

The unsub’s hideout looms ahead—an old auto body shop, rusted-out cars littering the perimeter like grave markers.

Morgan and JJ are already at the front, weapons drawn, pressing against the wall beside the garage door. Spencer lingers near the back with Garcia still in his ear, voice clipped and urgent. Emily signals you and Hotch over with a sharp tilt of her head.

“He’s inside,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Garcia got a hit on the utility bill—only one active line. Place is condemned, but someone’s been paying to keep the power running.”

Hotch nods, eyes scanning the structure, piecing together the fastest way in, the safest route to the girl. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he speaks.

“Morgan, take the east side with Prentiss. JJ, cover the back with Reid.” His gaze cuts to you, unreadable in the dim light. “We take the front.”

Your fingers tighten around your gun. He doesn’t ask if you’re ready. He just knows.

You nod.

Morgan counts down on his fingers—three, two, one—

JJ and Reid disappear around the back. Morgan and Emily dart right.

Then—Hotch moves.

And you follow.

The door groans as he forces it open, but you barely register the sound before you’re inside. The air is thick with oil and rust, the scent clinging to the back of your throat. Somewhere deeper in the shop, a light swings, casting sharp shadows over the scattered tools and overturned furniture.

Then—movement.

A door slams. Footsteps, hurried.

Hotch is already moving toward the sound, gun raised. You cover his six, every nerve in your body firing at once. The walls are too close, the ceiling too low.

Then—a scream.

High. Frantic. Small.

You don’t think.

You move.

Hotch shouts your name, but you’re already sprinting, rounding the corner just as a metal door swings open. A blur of movement—a man, dragging the little girl with him, his grip bruising around her arm. She’s sobbing, twisting, trying to fight him off.

Rage lights through you like a match dropped in gasoline.

You raise your gun. “FBI! Let her go!”

The unsub whirls, yanking the girl in front of him like a human shield. “Stay back!” he barks, voice wild, desperate. His other hand dives for his belt—

A knife.

Your heartbeat slams against your ribs.

You don’t give yourself time to think.

You move.

Your gun lowers.

Your feet propel you forward.

The unsub barely has time to register the shift before you’re on him.

You grab his wrist, twisting hard—he yells, grip loosening just enough for the girl to stumble free. Hotch is there in an instant, scooping her up, shielding her behind him.

The unsub snarls, wrenching his arm free, his other hand swinging with the blade—

You duck.

Pivot.

Your elbow slams into his ribs. He grunts, staggering, but he’s fast. He twists, knife flashing—

A sharp sting.

Pain lances across your shoulder.

You hiss, but don’t falter.

Instead, you use it.

You let him think he has the upper hand. Let him shift his weight just enough—

Then—

You strike.

Your knee slams into his stomach. He doubles over—another sharp twist, and his arm is wrenched behind his back. The knife clatters to the floor.

A second later, his body follows.

You plant a knee between his shoulder blades, chest heaving, wrist cuffs already in your hands.

He thrashes beneath you, but it’s useless. He’s done.

The adrenaline fades in sharp, ringing waves.

Then—Hotch’s voice, steady, sure.

“You okay?”

You finally look up.

The girl is clinging to him, small fingers curled tight into his shirt. Her eyes, red-rimmed and wide, lock onto yours.

You manage a nod. “Yeah.”

And for the first time in hours—maybe in days—

You believe it.

The ringing in your ears fades, replaced by the sharp sound of the unsub’s heavy breathing beneath you. His fight is gone, limbs slack against the cold concrete. You barely feel the sting in your shoulder now, too focused on the small, trembling girl clinging to Hotch’s side.

Her sobs have quieted, but her little body is still wracked with tiny, shuddering breaths. Her fingers stay twisted in the fabric of Hotch’s suit, white-knuckled, like if she lets go, she might disappear all over again.

You move before you can think, hands still shaking as you lift yourself off the unsub.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your voice is softer than you expect, almost drowned out by the distant sound of sirens. “You’re safe now.”

She blinks up at you, eyes glossy, bottom lip wobbling. The fear is still there, lingering, stitched into every muscle of her small frame. She doesn’t let go of Hotch, but she looks at you, really looks at you, as if trying to figure out whether she can believe you.

Hotch murmurs something low and reassuring, and after a few more rapid breaths, she hesitates—then releases his jacket, reaching for you instead.

The shift is instant. Your arms wrap around her tiny frame, her warmth pressing into you, her face burying into your shoulder. She still smells like the remnants of whatever cheap detergent clings to her pajamas, mixed with the salty traces of tears.

“You did so good,” you whisper, rubbing slow, gentle circles along her back. “You were so brave.”

Her small hands fist into the fabric of your shirt. You feel her exhale, a long, shaky breath against your collarbone. She’s exhausted, clinging to the safety of your arms like a lifeline.

Hotch’s presence lingers beside you, solid and steady. His hand brushes light against your back, grounding, a quiet reassurance that you did well, that she’s okay.

That you’re okay.

The sirens grow louder. But for now, you just hold her, murmuring soft reassurances into her hair, letting her feel safe, letting her know she’s not alone.

And as she finally relaxes, small body growing heavier with exhaustion, you know—

She believes you.

||||

The jet hums softly beneath you, a low, steady vibration that should lull you into sleep, but adrenaline still lingers in your veins. The weight of exhaustion is creeping in, though, settling in your limbs, making your muscles ache in a way that’s oddly satisfying.

Across from you, Morgan is still shaking his head, his arms crossed over his chest. “Nah, nah, nah. There’s no way. You’re messing with me.”

Emily grins, elbowing him in the ribs. “Oh, it happened. I was there. It was beautiful.”

Morgan points at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “I need a play-by-play. Right now.”

You shift uncomfortably, glancing at the others for help, but Spencer—Spencer of all people—looks offended.

“You took him down physically?” His brows are furrowed, arms crossed, and it’s the closest you’ve ever seen him to pouting. "I thought you me and Garcia were together as physical-dodgers."

“I—” You open your mouth to remind him of the plenty of times he's gotten into fights with unsubs, but Emily cuts you off.

“She did it so smoothly,” she says, eyes practically sparkling with pride. “Just wham, and he was down.” She claps her hands together for emphasis, making Morgan flinch.

Rossi chuckles, sipping from his ever-present glass of scotch. “Kid, I gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you.” His tone is warm, amused—proud. “That was some impressive work.”

Morgan groans dramatically, shaking his head again. “Man, I thought you didn’t even work out.”

You blink at him. “I—I do.”

He throws his hands up. “Since when?”

“I don’t know?” You shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Always?”

Hotch hasn’t said much, but you can feel his gaze, steady and unreadable, watching the conversation unfold. When you risk a glance at him, his expression softens just enough for you to catch it—the quiet admiration, the almost-smile playing at the corner of his lips.

He’s proud.

That thought alone sends warmth creeping up your neck.

Morgan groans again, dragging a hand down his face. “This is ridiculous. I need to reevaluate everything I know about you.”

Emily leans back, smug. “Should we start placing bets on who she’s gonna take down next?”

Spencer mutters something about unfair advantages, and Rossi laughs into his drink. The conversation shifts, the teasing continues, and even as your body finally starts to relax, letting the exhaustion settle in, you can’t help but steal another glance at Hotch.

His eyes meet yours, and for just a second, there’s something unspoken between you. Something warm, something steady. Something good.

You look away before you can dwell on it, but the feeling lingers, settling somewhere deep in your chest.

Home.

[joonjuul]

kiss it better. pjm

pairing: bestfriend!jimin x victim!reader

wc: 6.4k

warnings: soft!jimin, gentle!jimin, victim!reader, reader is in an abusive relationship, light blood, hitting, bruising, cheating, fingering (f receiving), shower fingering????, multiple orgasms, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), soft sex, some fluff/aftercare, reader’s boyfriend is unnamed, jimin basically takes care of you after your boyfriend hits you

a/n: saw an edit of jimin to kiss it better by rihanna last night and had this idea, absolutely obsessed with soft jimin, reqs still open!!

╋━

you feel the second blow land on your cheek, your eyes welling up more as you notice the blood rushing to your once gentle skin.

like always, it was your fault you were in this mess. you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress out, you knew you would be actively disobeying your boyfriend’s orders, but for once you wanted to feel like you were free, knowing damn well you were whatever he wanted you to be. you made a mistake, and now you were facing the repercussions.

“i don’t want to do this, you know that.” you watch as your boyfriend leans down, your eyes meeting as he matches your stance on the floor, allowing you to see eye to eye. you’re unable to gather a response, only look up at him through teary eyes as you wait for another strike.

he brings a hand up to your face, gently running a finger along the scattered marks on your cheek. the touch, although subtle, only making the burning worse. you wince in pain, slightly pulling your head away and watch as he notices your response and returns to his feet, his expression cold and distant.

“you did this to yourself, y/n.” you watch him carefully from the ground as he turns around, bringing his hands under the sink to wash specks of blood off his knuckles, which were now painted in velvet, ironically your favorite color.

“you know how much i love you, right?” his back is facing you as he speaks, his voice laced with what can only be described as fake as he reaches for a towel, drying his hands carefully.

“i know.” you mumble, your voice breaking as you feel yourself holding back tears, your throat almost on fire by how much you want to cry, but you knew better than to let him see you in this state.

he turns back around to face you, throwing the paper towel out and leaning down to your fragile state, using his hands to pick you up and stand you on your feet. he placed a finger under your chin, moving your face to the side to carefully inspect your wounds. you watch his face contort, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the destruction he inflicted on your once perfect skin.

“tsk tsk, gonna have to wear a mask to work tomorrow, tell people you’re sick.” he speaks normally, unaffected, as if he doesn’t care, and begins walking away.

“when is this going to end?” you turn back to face him as he’s halfway towards your shared bedroom door.

“excuse me?” you watch as his feet shift, your eyes meeting as he stands across the room, his demeanor now more angry than he was before, if that’s even possible. you knew talking back was the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but you were tired, unhappy, and down right over it.

“i’m tired of this. tired of being pushed around, hit, unable to do anything or exist. im not happy anymore.” you watch as his face stays stone cold but you know his brain is turning.

you feel yourself back up instinctively as he approaches you, his steps swift and powerful as he stops right in front of your face.

“if you’re tired of it then stop doing things that you know are wrong.” god when did he become so mean? he was the sweetest boy in the world to you, it wasn’t until you moved in with each other about a year ago that he began to act like this.

you scoff at him, walking past him as you brush his shoulder in the process, picking up your jacket and heading towards the door, not even putting on shoes in the process.

“so what just like that you’re gonna leave?” he questions, watching as you put your hand on the doorknob to your once hope filled apartment. you turn back to face him, throwing your jacket on as you feel your eyes begin to well up again.

“i just… need some time.” you say as you begin to turn the doorknob, taking a step out of your apartment as you feel his hand on your wrist, turning you around to face him.

he’s mere inches away from you, his face contorted with rage as he grits through his teeth.

“if i find out you end up somewhere you shouldn’t be tonight… we’re done.” you examine his expression, your eyes dancing between his lips to his furrowed brows and then down to his hand around your wrist.

without another word, you pull your hand away and make your way out the door to the elevator.

despite his yelling from behind you about god knows what, you refuse to turn around, refuse to face him.

once you feel the cold cement against your bare feet, and the smell of the new york city air at night, you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks as you break down completely. and before you know it, you’re running.

it’s completely subconscious when your feet end up carrying you 10 blocks down, your chest heaving and your eyes swollen shut from the cold air combined with your overwhelming amount of tears. but here you were, collapsed on his door step.

this was the last place you should be, and you knew that. you remember your boyfriend’s words as you were leaving, you knew exactly who he was talking about, and yet here you were.

you’re unable to knock on his door, only lay sobbing on the cement stairs leading to his building. he was on the first floor, and you prayed he could hear you, sense you were here as you were unable to move anymore. your body completely overrun with exhaustion and pain as you fought for your breaths.

and then, as if it was a miracle, or maybe a sign, you heard the door creek, and the sweet familiar sound of his soothing voice as he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around you and carrying you inside.

“are you okay? what happened? what’s wrong?” his voice was so gentle, so soothing, and although you were breathing too heavy to provide a response, you were still grateful for his thoughtfulness.

he laid you down on his couch carefully, his eyes quickly falling to the bruises and cuts on your face.

“oh my god y/n, what did he do to you?” you feel the tears begin to fall again at his words as he quickly went into his kitchen and grabbed a wash cloth, running it under some water and returning to your place on the couch.

he leaned before you, sat on his knees as he brought the towel to your face, the wetness soothing your marks much more than your tears had been doing as he places a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm you down.

“shhh just breathe, it’s okay, just breathe.” something about him always calmed you down, and before you knew it, you weren’t crying anymore, and instead were sitting across from him obediently as he tended to your wounds.

“what happened?” he questioned, and without the tears clouding your vision, you were able to see his beautiful sculpted face in front of you, his blonde hair sat messily on top of his head, slightly wet as if he had just showered, and his beautiful pink plump lips that you always stared at a little too long.

“i wore that dress you got me… for my birthday.” you spoke quietly, watching as your best friend’s face changed from soft to angry, almost infuriated at the idea that your boyfriend would lay a hand on you. jimin was your best friend, of course he knew things like this were happening, but he never knew the extent of it, and he never got involved because you begged him so many times to leave it alone. but things had gotten worse the past couple months, and you hadn’t been able to see him due to your boyfriend’s restrictions. he knew how much jimin cared about you, and knew that if you ever had to chose between the two of them, you wouldn’t chose him.

he brought a hand up to your face, carefully tucking a hair behind your ear as he scattered soothing strokes across your cheek that had yet to be marked.

“im so sorry, y/n. i should’ve never given that to you. god i should kill him for this. i should fucking kill him.”

“stop, jimin. this isn’t your fault and you know it.” you bring your hand up to his, taking his fingers within yours as you relish in the feeling of his warm skin against yours.

“i told him i needed time to think. i left. god i don’t know what im going to do.” you cover your face, trying your best not to cry again as you question whether or not you made the right decision. he would never leave you alone, he would track you down, go to your work, show up at your apartment. it happened before. where would you even live now that you’ve moved in together? you felt your head begin to spin with all the uncertainty and jimin quickly noticed, cupping your face with his hands as he brought your head up to look at him.

“hey, listen to me. you do not need to make a decision right now, okay? im here, im not leaving you. we’ll get through this together, okay?” you almost want to cry at his words. you had never met a man who cared about you as much as jimin. your whole life you had been pushed around and bullied by men, even by your father. and jimin came along and licked up every one of your wounds, he cared about you when no one else did.

you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug, the feeling of his hands wrapping around your waist made you only melt deeper.

“thank you. im so sorry i know you like your quiet time and your space-“

“are you kidding? i haven’t seen you in weeks, you’re more than welcome here and you know it.” he pulls away from the hug smiling as he leans in and kisses your forehead, standing to his feet and walking over to the kitchen.

“now, let’s get you out of that dress, yeah? as beautiful as you look i doubt you’re comfortable.” he throws the towel down onto the counter as he walks back to you, taking your hand in his as he leads you to his bedroom.

“does this mean i can raid your closet?” you ask excitedly. you always loved stealing his t-shirts, you didn’t know why but they were just so damn comfortable.

you heard him laugh gently, “of course.” and you can’t help but use your last bit of energy to jump excitedly, running to his closet and quickly finding a t-shirt that you think you’d like the most.

as much as he was happy to see you, jimin was doing his best to keep his composure right now. he was insanely protective of you, and the fact that your piece of shit boyfriend was possibly going to get away with this drove him mad. this was the first time he had seen you smile in months, and he refused to let it be the last. he was going to keep you away from that man no matter what it took.

you turned to face him, holding the shirt up before receiving a nod of approval. you smile before your face turns slightly, watching as jimin stands across from you.

“umm hello? a little privacy?” you tease and watch as jimin chuckles lowly in response.

“why don’t you take a hot shower, it might help.” he walks closer to you, taking the shirt from your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

“come on i don’t want to use up all your hot water like i did last time, you know i take long showers.” you protest, but they’re no use as jimin leans into the tub and turns the shower on, the steam quickly filling the confined space.

“trust me, i’ll be fine.” he laughs again, before heading to the door. you feel a strange pang in your chest at the thought of being alone. it was a strange sensation, but it made you feel like your head was going to explode. you quickly grab his hand before he’s able to exit, turning him to face you.

“im sorry it’s just… i don’t really want to be alone right now.” you say meekly, looking down at your feet in embarrassment.

jimin’s blood runs cold at your proposal, but he was a good man, he wasn’t going to take advantage of you in this vulnerable state.

“i’ll be right on the other side of the door.” he says again, tapping your hand reassuringly before trying to leave again, only for you to pull his wrist harder.

“please.” jimin feels his dick twitch as your gentle begging, but quickly removes the thought from his brain. he stands still for a moment, looking at your state before landing on your eyes, they were full of desperation, not in a lustful way, but in a painful way. you had been through so much. he felt his heart break gently before turning his body around completely and shutting the door completely, now enclosing you both into the small space.

“okay.” he watches as a small smile appears on your lips.

“no looking though.” you tease as you place your hands on his shoulders and turn him around to face the door.

“yeah yeah.” you loved how you could be playful with him, it was something you never experienced with your boyfriend, he was always so serious all the time, never tried to make you smile or do little things to keep you happy. jimin was like a breath of fresh air, everytime you looked at him you could feel your heart flutter in your chest, he was more than just your best friend, he was your soulmate.

you carefully peel your dress off, checking occasionally to make sure he’s not peaking, but of course, he’s not.

you carefully step into the shower, pulling the curtain back and feeling a wave of warmth wash over your body. the gentle sting of the water against your wounds barely noticeable due to the pure relaxation you felt, your body being consumed by the heat of the shower.

“okay you can turn around now.” you say from behind the curtain, which concealed you from his view completely.

jimin turns around, carefully making sure you’re not visible, before taking a seat on the toilet and leaning back, allowing himself to relish in the humidity and warmth of the small room.

“how does it feel?” his voice is so perfect and sweet, the sound mixed with the subtle scent of his soap, and the heat of the shower sending shots to your core. his presence in the room felt so intimate, even though you weren’t touching.

“mmm it feels good.” you hum, leaning your head back to wet your hair completely, your body feeling fully at ease as you feel the knots in your back loosening, all stress from the day, from the last couple months washing away and swirling down the drain beneath you.

you enjoy the silence for a moment, knowing that jimin was close to you and still providing you with comfort despite the fact that you weren’t speaking. you begin to wash yourself carefully, starting with your hair, before landing on your body. you didn’t particularly want to clean yourself with men’s body wash, but you didn’t have much of an option, plus it was jimin’s, so you’d at least smell like him for a couple hours, and that thought alone made you feel completely full of love.

but you were missing something, a wash cloth.

“jimin do you mind grabbing me a wash cloth?” you ask through the curtain. you don’t hear a response from him, only the rustling of some drawers before you see his shadow approach the curtain.

you pull the side of it back slightly, and poke your head out to retrieve the towel, quickly realizing how close he was to the curtain, your faces only an inch apart as his eyes land on yours.

you’re unable to conjure any words, the closeness now feeling more intimate than you could’ve imagined, and you feel your core begin to tingle at the thought of his beautiful plump lips enclosing around yours.

you swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes tracing down his body and landing on his hand, which gripped the towel tightly, his knuckles white as opposed to the dark velvet of your boyfriend’s.

you bring your hand down, gliding it across his wrist gently as you note the subtle goosebumps that appear under his skin, before landing on the towel and slowly pulling it from his grip.

you bring your eyes back up to his, now slightly lidded as he looks down at you, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted.

it took nearly every bone in his body to keep from kissing you. he had always felt something special towards you, something he was never able to quite put his finger on. you were everything to him, his entire world, his best friend, his soulmate, but never once had you crossed the line and been anything else. you’d never even kissed each other, it was always strictly platonic. it was part of the reason why jimin always felt you had such a strong relationship, because you didn’t let your male-female instincts get involved. but right now, he wanted to cross the line, he wanted to show you what real love felt like, he wanted to ease all the pain in your body, take care of you in more ways than one. it was killing him.

you feel your cheeks blush as he brings a hand up to your face, his fingers cold as they run against your hot skin, the contrast quickly stirring something within your stomach.

“jimin.” your voice is a hushed whisper as you look up at him. you weren’t sure what you were begging for, whether or not you were begging at all. but you were overwhelmed with the tension between you too, it was more than you could bare.

he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the way you said his name, it was like an angel was stood before him, it would be almost sinful to now show you how much you meant to him.

his hand fully encloses around your cheek as he leans in gently, his eyes dancing between yours to look for any resistance, but he’s met with none. in fact, he notices how you gently lean in too, your eyes hooded as you feel your lips connect with one another, and just like that, everything else melts away.

his skin was cold against yours, his lips dry as yours were wet and warm, the contrast overwhelming you completely as you feel yourself fall into him. he brings his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, your wet hair tangling within his fingers as he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his tongue quickly swiping past your lips and into your mouth.

it was unlike any kiss you’d ever had, it wasn’t rough, in fact it was just the opposite; it was soothing. it felt like every wrongdoing you’d ever experienced in your life no longer existed, like you and jimin were the only two people on earth, like your souls were meeting together for the first time. it was pure passion, pure affection, pure love.

you moan gently into his mouth at his touch, his other hand slipping past the curtain and falling on your waist, rubbing gentle circles along your wet skin. your body was on fire, it was as if every move he made, every touch you felt was heightened, and you couldn’t get enough.

you bring your hands to his shirt, pulling him towards you, signaling for him to join you. jimin pulls away from the kiss slowly, his eyes falling on yours as you watch his lips turn a deeper shade of pink, his face slightly wet and shirt covered in small droplets of water as he looks at you deeply.

“are you sure?” his voice is velvety smooth as the words roll off his tongue, and unlike anything your boyfriend had asked of you, you knew jimin meant it.

you nod at him, feeling his hand fall from the back of your head back to your cheek as he gently rubs his fingers over the cuts and bruises, watching as you wince slightly from the pain.

his face turns slightly more serious now, his head tilting to the side and you know he’s worried about your mental and physical state. he’s a good man, and you loved that about him, but right now you wanted him to put his morals aside, just for tonight.

“im okay, i promise.” you reach up and grab his hand from your cheek reassuringly, and watch as he takes a step back from you before bringing his hands to the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

you admire the way his body is sculpted perfectly. of course you had seen him shirtless before, but never like this. it almost made him look more attractive in your eyes, and you found yourself noticing small freckles and moles you hadn’t noticed before, it was like your eyes were opening to what had been in front of you all along.

he brings his hands to the button of his jeans before looking up at you, his eyes silently signaling for you to turn around, and you roll yours in response before shutting the curtain and returning to your warm enclosure, hearing the sounds of his zipper and his pants being tossed carelessly off his legs somewhere in the background.

you close your eyes as you feel the water run down your chest and over your stomach, relishing in the tranquility of the situation for just a moment, until you hear the curtain pull back slowly, and small patter of his feet hitting the water before he joins in behind you.

you keep your eyes shut, your hands running through your hair as you allow the water to explore your face, running along the cuts and scrapes carefully, as if not to hurt you. and after what feels like hours, you feel a pair of hands land on your waist, rubbing gentle circles along your skin.

it feels like heaven, even the slightest touch from him is enough to overwhelm you completely.

you hear him take a step closer to you, his breath hot against your neck as leans down and places gentle kisses against your shoulder, lulling your head back against his chest.

“you’re so beautiful.” his voice is whispered as he continues to kiss up and down your shoulder before stopping at your neck. you feel your heart skip a beat as he breaths into the sensitive crook, almost as if he’s restraining himself, holding back. you bring your hand up to the back his head and pull him down into your neck, allowing him to roam free of your body, and he does just that. gently sucking and kissing every patch of skin he can find. it was completely different than what you were used to. your boyfriend was always so rough, marking you, bruising you in any way he possible could, but jimin was different, every touch, every kiss was deliberate, intricate, passionate. everything you could’ve ever dreamed of.

you can’t help the moans that slip past your lips as his hands begin to wander around your body, exploring your stomach, hips and waist, all while burying himself into your neck. it’s almost too much to bare.

you take a step backwards, now fully pressed against him as you feel his hard on slide up your back, earning a deep groan from him into your neck. you smile to yourself as you feel his movements become more needy, before finally landing between your legs. he stops for a moment, his hand trailing up your thighs as he waits for any signs of resistance, but you only spread them slightly to allow him better access.

he starts small, easy, bringing a finger up to your folds and tracing them carefully, watching as you moan and twist your body in response. to which he dives between your folds, taking his time on your clit, rubbing torturous circles on your bundle of nerves before falling down to your hole, prodding it gently as he watches your body melt against him.

he uses his other hand to move your hair to the other side of your neck, allowing him better access to your skin as he sinks his head closer to your ear.

“are you sure about this?” his voice is so sweet, so gentle, barely a whisper as he places another kiss on your neck, circling your hole gently and noticing the distinct difference between your slick and the wetness of the shower.

you nod again, not able to audibly respond as you feel overwhelmed with need and pleasure.

“gonna need you to use your words, love.” he begins to circle your cunt slower now, placing another gentle kiss behind your ear as he brings his other hand down to your hip, holding you against him in a way that’s firm, but still gentle.

you nod again, “im sure, jimin.”

he scans your face again for any signs of discomfort, but doesn’t notice anything, he only notices the way your eyebrows crease together the slower he plays with your cunt, the way your butt instinctively wiggles against his dick, and the way your legs subconsciously spread for him the closer and closer he gets to your entrance.

he smiles to himself before placing another kiss on your neck as he slowly inserts the first finger.

you feel a moan slip past your lips as his digit stretches you out carefully, slipping past your entrance with ease as he quickly lands on your g-spot, curling his fingers perfectly to release another moan from your throat.

you allow your head to fall against his chest again as he places another kiss on your shoulder, his other hand steadying you against him as he sets on a tireless but gentle pace within your cunt.

you feel like he’s kissing every wound you’ve ever felt, even with his fingers as you allow yourself to completely and fully submit yourself to him. you trusted him more than anyone else in this world, even in such a vulnerable state you knew he’d never do anything to hurt you.

“there you go, shhh it’s okay, im here now, i’ve got you.” he mumbles into your neck as he watches you come undone completely, fully falling into his grasp as he works his skillful fingers in and out of your cunt. you feel your legs shake gently at the knot building within your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in a very long time. in any other scenario you would be embarrassed by how quickly you began to reach your high, but not right now, not with him.

he notices how your legs begin to shake, how your moans begin to get louder and breathing increases, and he knows you’re getting close. as much as he wants to torture you, make you beg to cum, throw you over his leg and finger you until you can’t breathe anymore, he knows that what you need right now is relaxation. and if that means making you cum as many times as you want, he’s more than willing to oblige.

“close, baby?” he rasps against your ear, wrapping an arm around your stomach to better stabilize you as he continues to finger you, curling the single digit occasionally to only further your high.

you nod your head aggressively, getting lost in the way he feels, the way he talks, the feeling of the water against your chest, his dick poking your back slightly, his arm around your waist, and with the final curl of his finger, you feel yourself come undone completely.

you double over, your upper half only being held up by his arm around your waist as you tighten around his finger, pulling and pushing him out simultaneously as moans and hushed nothings spill from your lips.

“that’s it, good girl, good girl baby.” he praises, pulling his finger out of you and pulling your upper body back against him as he allows the water to run over your face and chest, bringing his hand up to your hair to push it out of your eyes gently, doing anything he can to soothe you during the intense wave of feelings.

you allow your breathing to stabilize as you relax against him, your legs shaking gently as you feel the water rush over you.

before you’re able to respond, you feel him lean in front of you, wrapping his hand against the knob and turning the water off.

you turn to face him, looking confused. “i-i wasn’t done.” your voice still shaking slightly from your interaction.

he shoots you a look, but still holds a slight smile on his face. “let’s be honest baby, you wouldn’t have been able to get anything done after that anyway.” you’re unable to gather a response as he begins helping you out of the shower, wrapping the towel around your body to dry you before carefully pulling the shirt over your head and body.

you stop for a moment, your eyes trailing down from his wet messy hair, to his chest, down to his perfectly pink throbbing cock.

you reach towards it, grabbing the head gently and watch as his knees buckle in response before quickly looking up at you and grabbing your hand, pulling it off carefully.

“don’t.” he shoots you a look, his voice sounding more serious than normal as he begins to dry himself off now, his eyes peaking through his hair occasionally and you admire how perfectly made he was. everything down to the very last detail, how could someone be so perfect?

“i want to.” you mumble, your eyes never leaving his.

“no you don’t, not tonight.” he breaks the eye contact as he puts the towel on a hook to dry, picking up his clothes from earlier and putting them back on.

“no, i do.” you take a step closer, placing a hand on his to stop his movements, pulling the clothes from his grip and dropping them back on the floor.

he looks at you for a moment, realizing your seriousness, and he knows he’ll only be able to restrain his desires for so long. without a response, he turns around and opens the door, walking back to his room as you hear him fumbling with some clothes in the closet as you quickly follow suit.

“you won’t hurt me, im okay.” you say popping into the room quickly. but still, no response.

he throws a clean shirt over his head and a pair of boxers over his legs as he faces the closet. you walk up behind him, admiring his shoulders for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his back.

you’re still for a moment, allowing yourself to relish in the moment, in his scent, he doesn’t respond, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable, it never is with the two of you. you’re about to close your eyes when you feel him quickly turn around, his hands finding your cheeks as he attaches his lips to yours, the kiss much more heated than it was earlier as he backs you up towards the bed, laying you down on your back, but his lips never once faltering.

he pulls away to carefully observe your expression, which although surprised, is not upset. he examines the marks on your face one last time, before watching you nod your head reassuringly, this was something you wanted, and you knew he wanted it too.

he leans off the bed, pulling his boxers down swiftly as his cock springs free once more, and he returns to his place above you, a hand going in between the two of you as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

he brings the head between your folds, rubbing it up and down, collecting as much wetness as he can before stopping on your clit and pressing against it gently.

you moan in response, feeling more desperate than ever as he brings his cock back down to your hole, carefully nudging it and watching as your face contorts with pleasure.

“promise me this is what you want.” his eyes scan your face, dancing between your eyes as you nod your head in agreement, bringing a hand up to his cheek to stroke it gently.

“i promise.”

he leans down to kiss you, his lips feverish as he pushes his cock inside of you slowly, allowing your walls to stretch around his girth. you moan into the kiss, the feeling of his cock filling you up making your head spin with pleasure.

he continues to swallow your moans before bottoming out completely, his head nudging perfectly against your g spot as he adjusts his hips, rubbing against it teasingly, making you squeal out of sensitivity.

jimin pulls away from the kiss, looking down at your perfect face before leaning down and kissing the marks along your cheeks gently. he pulls his hips back as he begins to fall on a perfect pace, not too slow but not too fast.

“let me make it better.” his voice is almost a beg as he continues to kiss your cheek, one hand steadying himself by your head while the other holds your hip firmly in place.

you can’t help the noises that leave your body, the pleasure completely consuming you between his praises, and the way his cock perfectly fits inside of you.

“jimin.” you moan, your breath hot as he pulls back from your face and dives into the crook of your neck, continuing to place gentle kisses along your skin as his hips keep their pace perfectly.

your hands land to his hair, gripping it tightly as he works his magic on you. it was almost euphoric. the feeling of his cock stretching you out, the perfect words falling from his perfect lips, the trail of wet kisses along your body, it was pure bliss, and it was more than just sex. he wasn’t fucking you, you were making love.

he pulls away from your neck, his eyes landing on yours as his hips begin to roll into you, your eyes falling to the back of your head as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

“doing so well, baby. so perfect for me.” his praises shoot straight to your core as you feel another knot begin to build in your stomach. you wrap your legs around his waist, angling his cock directly into your g-spot as the pressure begins to build deeper and deeper, causing your moans to only increase in volume.

jimin carefully brings a hand up to your mouth, muffling your moans as his hips move faster.

“as beautiful as you sound, i still live in an apartment, baby.” he chuckles, feeling your breathing against his hand increase as you approach your second high of the night.

you feel your legs begin to shake again as you tighten their hold around his waist, causing his hips to stutter gently, the feeling of your walls constricting around him only making it harder for him to hold back.

“fuck, you’re close again, aren’t you?” he looks down at you, your eyes half shut as he removes his hand from your mouth to allow you to respond, but still, you only moan and nod your head in return.

“okay baby, it’s okay.” he says soothingly as he brings his now free hand between you to land on your clit, rubbing circles around it as his pace increases more now, watching as you begin to writhe in pleasure beneath him. he can feel how close you are, the way you tighten around him, the way your legs shake gently, and it’s only pushing him closer to the edge.

“fuck you’re gonna make me cum.” he groans, ducking his head into the crook of your neck as he ruts into you, feeling your walls constrict one last time as you release onto him, his cock now soaked with your juices as your body flinches beneath him.

his hips stutter for a moment at the feeling of you tightening around him again, and he barely has enough time to pull out of you before painting your stomach white. he would do anything to cum inside of you, coat your walls with his seed but he would save it for another time.

he collapses on top of you, both of your bodies heaving and sweaty as you hold each other close, the feeling of your breathing against each other being the most intimate moment of the night.

he pulls his head back to admire you for a moment, your cheeks flushed, your body panting, his cum perfectly scattered on your stomach, before quickly running off and grabbing a towel, returning as soon as he can to clean you off properly.

he pulls your shirt down over your body before laying down beside you and pulling you towards him, your bodies now meshed together perfectly as you fit into one another, your breathing still somewhat quick as you come down from what was probably the most intense moment of your life.

he looks down at you, a small smile on his face as he realizes he might’ve made your decision to leave your boyfriend a little easier knowing you had someone who actually loved you, and wanted to take care of you in any way he could.

he begins to draw small patterns on your arm, holding you close as he allows you to drift off into sleep on his chest, staring at the ceiling as he listens to your breathing slow and small snores escape your lips.

silently thanking the gods above that you fell on his doorstep that night, and not anyone else’s.

[drarryspecificrecs]

Unleashed! Fest 2023 : Masterlist of DRARRY fics

@unleashed-fest || official masterpost || AO3 || stats : 20 works The Mods : @getawayfox & @stavromulabetaaa Banner © : @the-houseryn's how the hell...

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1. Birds Behaving Badly by @peachpety [E, 10k]

For eight years, Draco has been content living a quiet life of anonymity in Brighton, dodging pesky seagulls and enjoying the ephemeral boys of summer. And if these summer blokes just happen to resemble Harry Potter, it’s a mere coincidence—despite what his friends say. But when a repeat one-night stand challenges him to face his desires, Draco thinks he’s finally over his years-long crush. A seagull named Kevin thinks otherwise.

2. Harry Potter And The Dubious Rescue Of His Ferrety Boyfriend by Animamundi [T, 8k]

Draco Malfoy always ends up getting bullied by other animals while in his Animagus form. Harry must rescue him again. Or must he?

3. It’s Me or the Peacock by harrows [T, 4k]

They’ve been together for two years when Draco finally moves into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Only, Harry didn’t know he’d be bringing a pet with him.

4. No capacity for feelings by @fastbrother [T, 2k]

Draco's Basilisk might or might not be depressed. Whatever the case, he would never ask Harry Potter for help.

5. Of Magical Beings Being - Magic by @rockingrobin69 [E, 30k]

Out of the blue, Potter's letter says: I need you. And Draco, ever a fool, goes. Cue magical houses, fluffy Beings with a sweet tooth, mutual pining level: infinity, and a truly outrageous amount of tea.

6. Peacocks of the Bride(groom) by @apricitydays-lazynights & @tempestuousblue [T, 7k]

The Big Day is here! Draco and Harry are finally getting hitched. Will the wedding be a smashing success or will peacock-induced chaos ensue? (It’s the latter, for sure)

7. Slithering up the Garden Path by @flightinflame [G, 1k]

Draco just wants to read in the garden. He's not sure why there are so many snakes around.

8. the strays by @owl-of-fandom [T, 13k]

Draco befriends stray animals in his back garden, unknowing that one of them is actually an animagus.

9. Sun Shower by @moonmanatee [T, 5k]

Each afternoon, Harry and his cat lounge in their sitting room, make an elaborate snack, and then head out for a walk. When they run into a certain tall, pale-haired man and his scruffy dog, they find their routine shifting.

10. Waiting for the Moon to Rise by @wolfpants [E, 8k]

When Harry and Draco move into Grimmauld Place straight out of Hogwarts, the last person they expect to find taking up residence is Bill ‘divorced, dishevelled, and dangerous’ Weasley. But what if their new, furry little problem is the help they need to finally bring them closer? Stranger things have happened, Draco supposes.

11. Wings and Slings by @steampunkserpent27 [T, 24k]

After the war, Draco Malfoy decides to turn over a new leaf and in doing so, opens an animal sanctuary for sick and homeless magical creatures. Everything is going well, until he is given a feral herd of hippogriffs and has to ask for outside help to be able to get anywhere near them. Only, it's the very last person he would have asked for help from.

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✔ other fests in 2023 ✔ fests in other years

[clits-and-clips]

Going to sleep is so fkn hard I just want to call him and tell him I love him and ask for cuddles when will that stop

[princesssmars]

better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

[buckiverse]

Missing You Always

based on the steal a moment phone call!!

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: Your marriage to Sylus has been a challenging one because of your long distant status. Sylus is determined to remind you that distance can't diminish what you share. He reassures not only your mind but also your body, reminding you why you're meant for each other.

☆--- word count: 4.5k

☆--- warnings: mdni, slight angst, there's comfort don't worry, soft!dom sylus, you take a bath together, oral sex, fingering, doggy, back shots, bit of background story, sylus is an eater ok..., (he eats your cum), size kink if you squint, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: i had to get this one out quick because rafayel is quickly taking over my brain ngl.

Just a couple of months before, you married Sylus. He has certainly lived up to (and well beyond) your expectations. While he is the perfect loving husband, your current situation is less than favorable. You knew what you agreed to in this marriage, and you knew the first few years would be difficult, but it did not stop you from feeling a pang in your chest when you arrived home, and your lovely husband was not there because, well, he is still in the N109 Zone. 

You walked into the front door of your shared home with Sylus, but then again, was it? He is never here during the week. You had both discussed it plenty in the early stages of your relationship, but that did not make the adjustment any easier now that you had moved back to Linkon. Being a hunter was difficult for you, mind, body, and spirit. 

Despite your feelings, you fought to hold on until the weekend. You knew Sylus was coming home to you soon. After work tomorrow, you would go home, and your lover would be waiting for you. That thought made you smile. 

You strolled into your home through the grand entryway, maneuvering through it to find the living area. Walking through the arch, you looked above your head to see the chandelier suspended above the coffee table. Turning your head, you observed the ceiling-to-floor windows, admiring the sunset. 

Your imagination took over, the thought of walking in tomorrow, noticing the lit fireplace, candles throughout the room, and the signature scent of vanilla being carried throughout the room. You’d know without a doubt that he was home. Your gaze would be drawn to the kitchen where Sylus would be standing. Maybe he got a gift for you, he usually does, something that reminded him of you during your signature five days apart.

“I miss him,” you said aloud reluctantly. A sigh escaped your lips, and your hands covered your eyes, leaving you feeling the somber silence around you.

A few beats of silence were interrupted by Sylus’s signature ringtone. Pulling you from your mind, you shifted quickly, searching for your phone. Making your way to your work bag, you pull the phone out of the front pocket before swiping “accept” on Sylus’s phone call. 

Sylus: "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this—just hearing your voice, sweetie. It’s been way too long. Feels like forever since I’ve had you all to myself." You: "I know, baby. I’ve missed you too. Every night, I go to bed wishing you were here." Sylus: "Soon, though. Tomorrow, it’s all about us. You and me, finally. I’ve been counting down the days." You: "Me too. I remember the last time we were together…our little movie night… I loved it so much." Sylus: "Yeah? Well, tomorrow, I plan to make it even better. We’ve got catching up, and I’m not just talking about our dinner date, sweetie. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. I miss touching you, holding you… just being with you." You: "I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Just the thought of being with you makes everything feel right." Sylus: "Good. Because tomorrow, the second I walk through that door, I’m not letting you go. No distractions, no interruptions, just you and me. How’s that sound?" You: "Sounds perfect. I’ve been dying to just… be with you again. Really be with you." Sylus: "Good. ‘Cause I plan to remind you how much I’ve missed you in every way."

☆---

"Hey, Sy! Are you almost here yet?" Your voice carried a hint of strain as you focused on dinner preparations. You had cubed some steak, and the hot grease sizzled and popped back at you while you basted the meat with a rich butter-garlic mixture, ensuring each piece absorbed the flavorful glaze.

“Yes, Kitten. I should be there in a few minutes, but check the door; there's a gift for you outside.”

“Oh! Okay, I didn't know. I’ll go look.” You disconnected the call with Sylus and went to the front door of your house. You saw an absurdly large box waiting for you as you opened the door. You maneuvered the box inside, wanting to open it. You grabbed your knife, tearing through the tape on the top. Once opened, you saw the little white note inside waiting for you. 

“For our date.” The simple cursive of the letter made you raise an eyebrow till you bent down and opened the box. You found face masks, bath bombs, moisturizers, oils, candles, and anything you could have desired.

“Ah, so he planned a self-care night. How cute!” Then you heard the door creak open, causing you to turn around. You dropped the items swiftly back in the box, overwhelmed with emotion.  

“I’m home, my love,” he said sweetly. A large smile instantly plastered your face at the sight of him, and you ran into his arms. You could admit that while you were growing used to your hyper-independence, you missed him. His scent, his touch, his presence. How your days to weeks apart made your heart grow fonder was amazing.

You ran to him, jumping in his arms. He caught you quickly as you gave him a tight hug. “I missed you,” you whispered into his ear, pressing soft kisses to his ear lobe. He shuddered at the feeling of your kiss, his eyes falling closed. You pulled your head back to look into his eyes. The heat of your soft kisses ran through him as he opened his eyes to meet yours. He placed his forehead flush against yours, a smile appearing on his face. His hands tightened his hold on you. 

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t want to know how much I wished I could come to you this past week,” Sylus said, his eyes dropping to your lips. Holding you with just one arm, his right hand caressed your face. Your face flushed a bit. The look in his eyes said even more than his words. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, “I missed this,” he said, kissing you languidly, almost like you were frozen in time. “And this,” his hand moved, tilting your chin upwards and to the side, pressing a taught kiss to your jaw. “This,” he tilted his head and kissed your neck slowly, starting where your jaw meets your neck, down to where your collarbone begins, before his teeth found your skin, nibbling on it gently. 

A rough breath came from your lips. The feeling of his lips and teeth on you always felt amazing. “Sylusss, let’s finish dinner. I smell it burning,” you said, smelling the cube steak slowly turning into burnt steak.  

He kissed you once more and nibbled on the skin by your collarbone. “Okay, we wouldn’t want dinner to burn now, would we?” he laughed, placing you on your feet. You turned around and made your way to the kitchen, still feeling flustered by how he kissed you moments ago. 

Sylus followed closely behind, his presence warm and comforting. You carefully plated the meal—tender, butter-basted (slightly burnt) steak cubes, roasted vegetables, and creamy mashed potatoes. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, the perfect mix of savory and satisfying.

"Smells amazing, sweetie," Sylus murmured as he leaned against the counter, watching you with that familiar, teasing grin.

You handed him his plate, the warmth of the food almost matching the heat between you two. Together, you carried the plates to the couch, where the night would begin. The soft lighting in your house casts a cozy glow, setting the perfect mood for the evening ahead.

"Dinner and a show?" he teased, settling beside you, his eyes lingering on yours.

You laughed softly. "Something like that. Let’s just say… we won’t leave this couch for a while."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I like the sound of that."

You both dug into the meal, the flavors rich and comforting, but the real excitement lingered between each bite, the anticipation building for the rest of the date.

The movie you chose to accompany your dinner was a sad romantic comedy. It may not have been the best choice because now you are trying to keep tears from falling from your eyes. You wanted to enjoy your time with Sylus, not cry over nothing.

But you couldn’t help yourself. The movie discusses a couple struggling to navigate their careers. They got pulled in different directions and did not end up together… It was eerie; it was too reminiscent of your current insecurities.

You turned your head, looking at Sylus, who was already turned towards you. His brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, hmm?” he said, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek as he slowly stroked your face. 

His tenderness and compassion for you were mind-blowing. His never-ending patience was world-shattering. A tear fell from your eye, wetting his hand. “Is this going to work? I don’t want to end up like them, Sylus.” You finally met his fierce eyes, forcing yourself to hold contact as you shared your insecurity with him.

“Listen, this isn’t forever. It's hard now, but it is temporary. I will make sure of that, " he said, his voice strained at the sight of your tears. He pulled you forward to hug him, and his embrace instantly comforted you. “I promise,” he whispered into your ear, placing the softest kiss on your earlobe. 

You pulled back ever so slightly to look him in the eyes. “I trust you, Sylus,” you said, sniffling and wiping your face. He smiled at you slightly, and your admission meant much more to him than you’d ever know. 

“Let’s continue our date. I found those face masks you’ve been texting me,” he offered. “I saw! Where’d you even find those,” you exclaimed and lightly hit his chest. You both laughed together, feeling a bit lighter now.

You shifted to your shared bathroom, which had quite an industrial feel. The walls were covered with deep blue tiles, and the floor was a patterned blue tile, which beautifully complemented the gold and brown accents throughout the room. Walking on your bare feet, the tiles felt cold under your feet, chilling your whole body and giving you goosebumps. 

Sylus followed behind you closely. The brown box rested in his large hands as he placed it on the wide granite counter. He unpacked the box, pulling out the candles, face masks, oils/lotions, and bath items. 

You walked behind him, grabbing the candles and placing them around the large bathroom. The scent of a sweet candle promptly filled the air, spreading through the room. You turned off the warm lights, allowing the candles to be your light source. 

Further setting your space for the date, you turned on some smooth jazz—something you and Sylus would appreciate. Playing instruments was not an easy feat, as you would know after your multiple failed attempts at playing the piano. 

Walking back into the bathroom connected to your primary suite, you saw that Sylus had begun to draw bath water for you two. His hand was wading in and out of the water, monitoring the temperature. You just watched as he worked. He had fresh roses in a plastic bag on the floor next to him. He picked them up, removing the petals. The red roses filled the white bathtub, some resting atop the beautiful bubble bath he made for you two.

“Do you need help getting ready for the bath?” He said suddenly, turning his head to look at you, a slight grin on your face.

“I could use some help,” you said playfully, a pout forming on your cocked head. 

Sylus stopped the bath water and was now ready for you two to share. He made his way over to you and stood tall before you. You lifted your arms, and he moved to lift your t-shirt above your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom, leaving you in a lacy black bra. You watched his eyes shift downward to your chest before looking you in the eyes. He laughed a bit, knowing you caught him looking.

“Your turn, Sy,” you said.

“Whatever you say, Sweetie,” he replied playfully. He lifted his arms above his head, knowing damn well he was too tall for you to pull the shirt above his head. So, instead, he moved to his knees, making it easier for you. You reached down, pulling his casual shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless, on his knees for you. Your eyes widened a bit at the sight. You’d never get over this.

“Now, these must go,” Sylus said. He was hooking his large fingers into the waistband of your black leggings and panties. He pulled them down slowly, leaving you in just a bra before him. “Always so beautiful for me,” he said, desire filled his eyes. 

He reluctantly stood to his feet, standing at full height as he moved to unclasp your bra. “May I?” He whispered tenderly against the shell of your ear. 

“Of course, baby,” you said softly. You heard the click of the bra behind you, your breasts falling as they left the support of the bra. 

Sylus stepped back, looking over your nude body. 

You flushed at his gaze, lifting your arms to cover your body. “The bath is getting cold,” you said, suddenly feeling shy in front of your husband.

“Let’s get in, sweetie,” Sylus said with a grin, swiftly slipping off his sweatpants and briefs. He lowered himself into the bath, the water rippling as he settled in, leaving space for you to join him.

You stepped into the hot bath, the warmth enveloping your legs as the water sloshed with your added weight. Steadying your hands on the tub's edge, you guided yourself in, sinking fully until your back rested against Sylus’s broad chest. The hot water worked wonders on your tense muscles, soothing the stress from both your bodies.

The demands of your careers, the physical toll of your work as a hunter, and the mental strain of being apart all faded away at this moment. This was exactly what you both needed: to be close and together.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the side, resting it on Sylus’s strong bicep. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, ignoring the soft glow of candles and the distant music. None of it mattered as much as the sensation of his body against yours. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the hard lines of his abs, the strength in his thighs. Your fingers traced the vein from his bicep to his forearm, grounding you in the moment.

The warmth of his skin against yours was everything—comforting, intimate. You were both aware of his cock pressed against your ass, but for now, you both ignored it, savoring the quiet closeness. In this shared silence, nothing else mattered.

The warmth of the bath pulled you into a sense of calm, but the steady rise and fall of Sylus’s chest beneath you stirred something more. You could not ignore how his hands started to drift, one moving slowly up your arm, the other settling on your waist, his finger tracing gentle circles on your skin. A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, pressing your back more firmly against him.

“You feel incredible, sweetie,” Sylus murmured into your ear, his deep voice sending a shiver through you despite the warmth of the water.

The light touch of his lips grazed your shoulder, and you felt a surge of heat build inside you. His lips lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

You tilted your head back to give him better access, your heart quickening as his touch became firmer, more deliberate. The tension between you that had been quietly building suddenly felt undeniable. His hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing gently, and you felt a low moan escape your lips.

"Sylus..." you whispered, your voice breathless, your body instinctively pressing against him. His cock, which you both had been ignoring, now became impossible to dismiss.

He growled softly, lips still brushing your neck. "I’ve missed this," Sylus whispered, his lips brushing your ear, voice deep and full of desire. "But I think it's time we take this somewhere... a little more open."

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted beneath you, his strong arms lifting you out of the water as easily as if you weighed nothing. Water dripped from your skin, splashing back into the tub as he stood, holding you effortlessly in his arms.

"Sylus!" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as he carried you with that familiar, confident grin. He didn’t speak and just gave you a knowing look, his eyes dark with intent.

He walked you over to the bathroom counter, the cool surface contrasting the heat radiating from your body. Gently but firmly, Sylus sat you down, your wet skin making contact with the smooth countertop, the chill making you gasp.

Before you could fully adjust to your new position, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands tugging you forward, positioning you exactly how he wanted. His gaze locked onto yours as he parted your plush thighs, his breath hot against your skin.

"I told you, sweetie," he growled, eyes filled with desire. "Your wish is my command."

Your eyes widened at the sight of him on his knees before you. You were breathless, waiting for his next move.

Sylus’s fingers slotted between your folds, moving to spread them open for him. Your pussy was already so wet, and his fingers were soaked in your slick just from opening you up. He pressed a firm kiss against your pretty little clit. His kiss was slow, testing your reaction. Your hips bucked from his kiss. He could tell you’ve grown needy for him. 

“It seems I'm not taking good care of my wife.” His intense gaze reached yours. His mouth opened, allowing his hot tongue to make contact with your sensitive clit. 

A moan fell from your lips. You were quickly feeling overwhelmed. The cold counter, your wet skin, his tongue, his eye contact. You couldn’t help but close your eyes. There was too much going on. 

His tongue expertly flicked your clit, and he was messily making out with your cunt. He decided he would spell his name on it. He loved reminding you who you belonged to after your time apart. He moved his index finger, choosing to work your hole while pleasing your clit. His finger stroked your entrance back and forth, dipping inside a bit more each time he made a pass. You moved your hands to grip under your legs, bracing yourself. Your head bent back, resting against the large mirror in the bathroom. 

He shifted his expert tongue, closing his lips around your clit. Nibbling on your clit lightly, dragging your attention back to him. It’s almost like he was punishing you for looking away from him. 

“Eyes on me, Kitten,” Sylus said, his words sending vibrations straight into your clit, as he pushed his larger finger into you. Beginning to stroke your insides, he found that little sensitive button inside you, pressing it firmly, causing you to squirm beneath him, growing heat in your belly. You could feel the heat going to your face at the sight before you. 

Sylus wanted—needed all of you, but more than anything, he needed your attention. He has to know that you share his desire.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. You fought to keep your eye on him, even as your pleasure began to build up inside you. The heat of his mouth, his fingers pumping into you expertly, just felt so good.

During the days you spent apart, you counted the hours away. The feeling of his tongue on yours, his body against yours, nothing could compare to what you share with Sylus. The spots are the only ones he knows and can only dare to explore. He blew your mind every time. 

You shifted one of your hands to grip his white hair. It slotted between your fingers so easily when you tugged it like that. A groan released from his mouth, vibrating your cunt. 

“I– oh fuck,” you said suddenly as your hips began to spasm hard against his beautiful face. Your hips lifted at the intensity of the pleasure running through you.

“I know. Come for me, darling,” He purred into you. He kept his mouth on you as you rode out your high. You rode his face, spreading your juices all over him.

Sylus smirked at you. His face was covered in your arousal as you slowly released your grip on his hair. A lazy smile appeared on your face as he stood to kiss you, his hand reaching out, cupping your face sweetly. He kissed you slowly, saving this moment with you. The way he pressed against you sent warmth through your veins. 

Reluctantly parting his lips from yours, he lifted you off your ass onto your feet.

“Turn around for me, Kitten,” he commanded you sweetly. And you complied, turning around and facing the large mirror before you in the bathroom. You bent over on the counter, the cold granite causing your nipples to harden against it. You rested on your forearms, making eye contact with Sylus in the mirror. He licked his lips, collecting your remaining arousal on his tongue.

And he held that with you, not daring to look away. He took his cock in his hands, his girth heavy in his hands, and he guided himself to your cunt. Gauging your reaction, he rubbed his cock against your slit, and you squirmed a bit, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm. 

He pushed into you slowly, agonizingly slow. Your eyes were a bit teary as you bit your lip, watching him tease you. You could feel the burn of him stretching you out. It’d been so long since he fucked you. “don’t tease,” you whined, your lips pouting slightly. You turned back, looking at him directly. “I need you,” you said, your body burning with need.

He kissed you roughly, tilting your head a bit to allow him better access to your lips. At the same time, he sheathed himself fully inside you. A desperate moan fell from your lips, and you tilted your head forward, watching him in the mirror. He took on a slow, deep pace at first, dragging his hips back before pounding back into you. 

His hands found your lower back, gripping your flesh, bracing himself as he pounded into you. The intensity of his thrusts caused your body to create friction against the counter. Your breast, your stomach, his hands on your backside. It just felt so good.

He thrust into you repeatedly, and you heard the slap of his heavy erection pounding into you. The slap of his balls hit your clit repeatedly as he kept his rhythm. Breaking his eye contact with you, Sylus's eyes trained on where he was pounding into you. Every time he pulled out, your cunt dragged him back in. Begging for him not to pull away. You kept gripping down on him.

He watched as your juices mixed, the white film appearing around the base of his cock. A sly smile appeared on his lips, sending the desire coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, focusing on how you felt around him. Your gummy walls sucked him in, asking for him to stay. You kept gripping his cock so well you couldn’t possibly understand what you were doing to him. He could feel every little time you twitched, gripped him, sucked down on him. And the sounds coming from your pretty little mouth were egging him on. Begging him to come in your pretty pussy, and he couldn’t resist much longer. 

You felt yourself involuntarily grip down on Sylus again, and you turned your head to look at him directly, his pretty face, the flush on his cheeks. He was driving you crazy, too. He kept hitting that sensitive spot inside you, his heavy balls slapping your clit over and over. You couldn’t help but grip down on him again. You watched his eyebrows furrow as he slightly opened his eyes to look at yours. His eyes squinted as pleasure began to take over his body. 

“You feel so good,” he gritted out, his flushed face apparent as you looked at him more closely. The sight is so erotic, a moan released from your lips. You could feel your wetness all over him. Your cunt was dripping at the sight before you. 

He began to keel over you. Resting a bit on your back as his thrusts became more sloppy. He laid on top of you completely, “You’ll take my come, won’t you, baby?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Y–yes,” you moaned out. His eyes closed as he rutted into you over and over as his ropes of come filled you. 

Your hands gripped the counter, steadying yourself until his thrusts slowed up a bit. He was losing his pace and becoming sloppy as he finished riding his high.

His breathing was uneven as he rested his weight on your backside. “You’re always so good for me, Kitten,” he said breathlessly.

He pulled out slowly, trying to keep his seed in you before he got on his knees, and your eyebrows hit your hairline in shock.

“Can’t let this escape now, can we?” Sylus said, slight amusement in his voice as he used his fingers to push his release back inside you before he stood up and licked his two fingers clean. He was looking into your eyes using the mirror.

“Sylus!” you exclaimed at the sight. He’d never done that before. It's a true sight to behold.

“We taste so good together, sweetie,” he remarked casually, causing heat to go to your face as you watched him leave the room.

He returned with a soft towel, wetting the cloth in the sink, furthest from you, so as not to re-wet your now dry skin. 

He came back over and wiped your excess shared fluids from your cunt, leaving you slightly damp from the wetness of the towel.

At that, you rolled over, sitting on the counter, before tenderly kissing Sylus on his taut lips. “Thank you,” you whispered to him. He’s always so attentive, you thought. He pressed himself flush against you before wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Let’s lay down now,” he said, picking you up. 

You giggled at that. “Yes, let’s,” you said with a large smile. You missed this.

☆---

I feel like Sylus and Raf are the most fun to write for. Their stories always have so much banter idk. THIS IS NOT ZAYNE SHADE, that's my man fr.

[davinawritings]

His Pretty Girl

Hello! This is a commission for one of my Werewolf's Mate members on Patreon! I hope you enjoy!

Request: Male hybrid cat x female reader. I want to have the guy to be mostly humanoid. So like cat ears and tails or whatever else comes to mind. Just like no like full on cat head or paws. And I want him to be a yandere. Reader- shy and introverted. Other than that you have full creative freedom.

Pairing: Male Cat Hybrid X Fem Reader

Summary: Simon quickly became your best friend but he wants more. He wants you to belong to him and only him and is willing to do anything to have you. He has waited long enough so he finally puts his plans into action to make sure you are all his.

Word Count: 2,547

Warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Smut, Creampie, Very Brief Talk Of Oral

Simon had become attached to you from your very first meeting at freshman orientation. In his eyes, both of you choosing the same college had to be fate. He adored how shy you were when he first approached you to introduce himself. The way you gave him a soft smile but could barely meet his eyes when he spoke to you just made him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

While you both became best friends fast, he knew he needed more. Simon wants you to be his completely, mind, body, and soul. He wants you to want him and need him more than anyone. You are so perfect for him—so sweet, shy, and beautiful. He has spent the last two years becoming inseparable from you, but now it is time for more. He needs you to be entirely his. 

His first step brings him to now, with you crying in his apartment. He knew it was wrong to alienate you from all of your childhood friends, but he needs to be the most important person in your life. He’s not happy that it’s causing you pain, but it is necessary for your future together. 

You lay against his chest while he reclines on his couch, sobs escaping your soft lips as you cling to him. His pointed ears twitch at the sound of your sadness, gently purring to try and calm you down. His tail stays wrapped around your plush thigh firmly as a comforting gesture. He lets you release all your built-up feelings, his large hands rubbing up and down your back.

You had come over about an hour ago, tears already pouring down your cheeks. It didn’t take him long to pry the reason out of you between sobs and gasping breaths. You had been texting your friends back home, but they all seemed to be icing you out. None of them would respond to your messages. You had no idea why they would suddenly stop speaking to you, but Simon knew why. 

Two weeks ago, when you slept at his place, he had gone into your contacts and blocked all of your friends. He knew it would hurt you, but he would make sure that he stepped up and showed you that he was the only person you needed. He was ready to do anything for you and be the only person you needed. So he kept you in his arms and cooed soft words in your ears about how amazing you are. 

His words are comforting and calming as he reassures, “I know, darling. It’s okay. Let all your tears out. I’m not sure why they won’t talk to you, but you did nothing wrong, pretty girl. I’m here for you. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll never leave you like they did, darling. You will always have me”. He smiles as your sobs finally start calming, happy with the way you are clinging to him.

He waits a few more weeks before making his next move. He waits until Tuesday night when you close the small bookstore where you work. All your coworkers take one night each week to take the closing shift, making it fair for everyone. Simon waits and watches while you do all the closing duties. He makes sure to stay hidden as you lock the door and start going to your car, ready to go home for the night.

He waits a few extra minutes to be safe before walking up to the door and opening it. Last week, he made an imprint of your work keys, the one for the shop’s front door and the key for your locker. He quickly had copies made, and now he had access to everything. He moves around, trashing the entire store, ripping pages out of books, and knocking over the shelves. Simon then moves to the register, smashing it with a large book. He quickly takes out all the cash before dumping the coins all over the floor, making an even bigger mess.

He makes sure not to harm or break the door, leaving it untouched and unlocked as he makes his way out of the store. He quickly stops at the local grocery store and picks up some of your favorite comfort foods, knowing you will need them tomorrow. 

Wednesday evening rolls around, and Simon is waiting for you to arrive. Your shift should have started at two and ended at seven, but he is sure you will be in his apartment before then. He is proven correct when he hears his apartment door open, and you come running to him. The tears are already falling as you cling to him. He runs his hands through your hair in a soothing manner, asking gently, “What happened, pretty girl?”

You sniffle and explain, “I got fired Simon. Som-Someone broke into the bookstore last night. They ruined all the books and stole the money in the register”. You take a deep breath, and he uses the opportunity to ask, “Why would you get fired for someone breaking in? That isn’t your fault”. 

You release a sob and explain, “They said I left the door unlocked and that’s how the person broke in. I tried to tell them that I know I locked it but they wouldn’t belie- believe me. They said the lock wasn’t broken, and none of the windows were broken, so I must have left it unlocked. I swear I didn’t, Simon. I always make sure to lock up on my night. Now they fired me, and I don’t have a job, and I only have a couple of months’ worth of rent in my savings, so I need to find a new job within the next few weeks- and I… I…”.

Simon purrs softly and pulls you closer to his chest to calm you as your sobs begin breaking up your words again. “Everything will be okay, pretty girl. You don’t need that job anyway. I can help take care of anything you need until you get back on your feet”, he says, his tail rubbing up and down your leg affectionately. 

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, and you cling to him even more, whispering out a “Thank you” as he puts your mind at ease. He places a kiss on your forehead before saying, “Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab some snacks, and we can have a movie night”. You give a slight sniffle before giving him a shy smile, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek before running off to his couch to get comfortable. He smiles as he watches you run off, his cock twitching in excitement, almost as if it knows how much closer he is to claiming you completely. 

He only waits a few days before acting on the third part of his plan. He knocks on your landlord’s door, an unmarked folder in his hands. Your sleazy landlord opens the door, but Simon cuts him off before he even has a chance to speak. “Listen, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to double the rent for the woman in apartment 2C. You tell her the new price starts immediately, and she has to pay or get out by the end of the month, which is in exactly three days. If you don’t do that, I will send copies of these photos to the cops”.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to pull out several photos of your landlord dealing drugs outside your apartment building. He watches the landlord’s eyes go wide as he flips through photo after photo, each showing clear photo evidence of his crimes. His voice wobbles as he asks, “So I kick the girl outta 2C, and you swear these photos disappear?”. Simon gives a simple nod, which is enough for the landlord to agree. Now, all Simon needs to do is wait; luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. 

That evening, you come crying into Simons’s apartment, practically collapsing in his arms. Tears flow freely once more as you lean on the only person you have in the world. He pulls you onto the couch once again, keeping you wrapped tight in his arms. He releases soft purrs to calm you as you explain you have to be out of your apartment in three days because your landlord raised your rent. Your tears come faster as you begin panicking. 

His ears twitch slightly as your cries pull at his heart. His voice is soft as he says, “Don’t worry, your pretty little head. You can live here with me. I’ll take care of you”. He has to physically bite the inside of his lip as you stare up at him with glossy eyes, a look of love and adoration on your face. 

You calm your breathing slightly before asking, “Are you sure, Si? It doesn’t seem fair for me to just move in with you. I only have a little bit of money in my savings, so I can’t pay you much for rent, and I don’t even have a new job yet.” 

He affectionately strokes your cheek as his tail moves to wrap around your upper thigh, its favorite place to be. He gives you an innocent smile and replies, “Of course, I’m sure. Haven’t you realized that I love you more than anything in the world, pretty girl? No one loves you as much as I do. Plus, now we get to spend all our time together. It will be even better. I don’t want you to worry anymore, okay? I can and will take care of my favorite girl”.

This time, he can’t suppress his grin as you nuzzle your face into his neck, curling your body into his own as much as possible. Simon lets his hands roam up and down your back, happy you don’t stop him when his hands roam lower than they ever have.

He can already feel his cock hardening as you say, “Thank you so much, Simon. I really can’t express how grateful I am to have you in my life. When everything goes wrong, you are always there to take care of me”. Simon pulls you closer, once again promising to always be there for you. 

Over the next few days, Simon helps you move into his home, insisting that you both share one bed. He makes sure to cater to all your needs and make you feel loved and safe. He’s overjoyed when you genuinely seem to only focus on him. No more plans with other people, no more leaving him for hours to go to work, and no more interrupting phone calls from childhood friends and family. 

He lets you adjust for the first few weeks in his home, but he quickly grows impatient. The need to make you his completely is building with each day. As you both lie in bed, he finally decides to put his last plan into place tonight. 

The moon is high in the sky as he shifts around in his spot on the bed, occasionally letting little sighs escape him. It doesn’t take long for you to ask what’s wrong. Simon puts on his best-embarrassed face and tells you, “It’s nothing. Just get some rest. I’m okay”. 

His cock hardens as you shift closer to him, placing one of your hands on his chest and pleading, “Please tell me, Si.” He pretends to be embarrassed again as he tells you, “It’s just that you are so pretty, and having you in my bed… well, it just kind of got me a little… you know… worked up”.

He can see when you piece together what he is trying to say. He watches, slightly amused, as you become his sweet, shy girl again. He knows his pretty girl is too nice to leave him to solve his problem by himself, especially after all the recent events. 

Simon can feel his tip leaking precum as you say, “I can help if you want.” He pretends to be nervous, telling you you don’t have to. You immediately say, “I want to help. Si, you have been so good to me, especially these last few weeks. It’s my turn to help take care of you. Please let me take care of you”.

He nods and can’t hide his eagerness as he quickly slots himself between your soft thighs. Tomorrow he will spend hours worshiping your body and licking your cunt, but right now, all he wants is to feel you wrapped around his throbbing cock. He strips you both of your clothes as fast as he can, needing to feel your skin against his own. 

His tail caresses your upper thigh, causing you to shiver. He grins at the sight, knowing just how much fun he’ll have teasing your body every day. He pushes your legs up, placing your legs over his chest. Grabbing his cock in his right hand, he rubs it along your puffy slit, making sure to tap the head on your clit. Precum drips from his tip as you release little mewls and whimpers. 

Your slick starts to coat his cock as he continues rutting against you, his cock sliding between your lips. He continues until you beg for more. Your begging is like music to his ears, hearing how much you need and want him. He lines up with your weeping cunt, taking a moment to admire the sight and tell you how beautiful you look like this. 

With one hard thrust, he enters your tight pussy, finally feeling you wrapped around him where you belong. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as he sets a slow but hard pace. He wants you to feel every inch of his cock, every ridge and vein. He leans down, kissing you with a burning passion. His tongue caresses your own, and he groans in delight. Your legs press to your chest, and you are at his mercy. He grins as he feels your cunt start fluttering around his length. 

Simon’s thrusts slowly pick up speed as he gets closer to his own high. Your nails dig into his skin and leave little crescent-shaped marks as you arch your back and cry out. Your pussy clenches down on his cock hard and triggers his release. He moans as he feels rope after rope of cum filling you up. He keeps thrusting despite the overstimulation, wanting to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

He slows to a stop and takes a moment for you both to catch your breath. He reluctantly pulls out, smiling softly at your little whine. He kisses your lips briefly before saying, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m just going to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back”. 

He makes quick work of walking to the restroom and wetting a washcloth. He returns and gently wipes you clean before wiping himself and tossing the rag into the hamper. He climbs back into the bed and pulls you into his chest. He purrs quietly as you curl into him, already dozing off. 

Simon finally feels at peace, knowing his pretty girl is all his. There’s nothing that will ever take you from him now.

[distantdarlings]

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact. 

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring. 

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did. 

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect. 

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out. 

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure. 

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm. 

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat. 

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you. 

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said. 

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation. 

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience. 

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face. 

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping? 

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily. 

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put. 

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them. 

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning. 

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed. 

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit. 

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow. 

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now. 

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened. 

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly. 

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point. 

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine. 

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days. 

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again. 

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair. 

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed. 

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did. 

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue. 

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second. 

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close. 

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom. 

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day. 

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself. 

[jarofstyles]

Lights Out, Keep Warm

Hi lovelies! I’ve been waiting to give this one shot to you. Snowed in at the cabin is something I’ve always loved the idea of, and I hope this can make it something you dream of too.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive writings and series.

WC- 4.6k

Warnings- loss of power, unprotected sex, creampie, slight size kink

It had seemed like a good idea, heading to the cabin for the weekend. It was supposed to snow a little, Harry had a stressful week at work and Y/N had no plans. The cabin in the mountains was one of their favorite weekend getaways, but it wasn’t lost on Harry that he needed to make some adjustments. They’d only gotten it 2 years prior and he knew he’d needed to do some work on it, but every time they went it was inevitable that they got distracted enough that he’d push it off to the ‘next time’. This time, however; he knew that he was not going to be able to do that. 

They’d noticed the first flicker when the winds started to pick up. He’d resolved himself to know they’d be snowed in this weekend, but he was starting to regret not getting the generator from their house the more gusts of wind started to make the lights flicker. It was only a matter of time. 

As they sat on the sofa waiting for the cookies to bake, he heard a snap from outside and it was over. The power at the cabin flickered one last time and died, plunging them into darkness. 

It was pointless to go out there and check. He could see from the windows how hard the snow was coming down. It was a tomorrow sort of problem… but he couldn’t deny that it was going to mean a far less comfortable night. Harry cursed under his breath, not liking the cold that was quickly settling in. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close as he sat down on the couch from his observation outside the window. "Fuck, it's cold." he grumbled, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Come ‘ere," he mumbled, burrowing his face into her neck and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "You're like a human heater." he complained, his breath warm against her skin. He nuzzled closer, trying to absorb her warmth like a cat. "Think we should jus’ stay like this until the power comes back on."

Y/N giggled softly, curling into his embrace as she felt his body pressing against hers in the darkness. "Well, aren't you resourceful?" she teased, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "Using me as your personal space heater now." His playful groan against her neck made her smile widen. "You were the genius who thought baking cookies in a cabin with questionable wiring was a good idea," she quipped, pulling the blanket over them.

"Sure, of course. Blame my brilliant mind for underestimating the cabin's electrical system and the winds it can withstand." he mumbled into her neck. "At least we can at least attempt to keep warm now," he purred, letting his lips brush over her collarbone. "And you smell like vanilla and whatever else you put in the cookies, which is making the this whole thing much more bearable." He shifted slightly, his leg throwing over hers to entwine them together. That wasn’t enough, though. 

As they huddled together on the couch, the room grew noticeably colder by the minute. His large hands splayed out on her stomach, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her warmth as possible. "Damn it, why is it getting colder?" he complained, his breath washing over her throat. "I need more of your heat." he grumbled, his body shifting until she was practically sitting on top of his lap.

"Come on, closer," he insisted playfully, adjusting his position to make her more comfortable atop his lap, splaying the blanket over her shoulders to make a little cocoon for them, leaving their head and neck out. "This is like... the best worst situation ever.” He muttered against her skin, pressing small kisses along her neck to distract himself. "Being forced to hold you this close in the dark." His hands moved slowly up and down her back in comforting strokes. "Though I'm definitely not complaining about the cuddles." He nipped softly at her earlobe, making her shiver.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, squirming slightly in his lap as she felt his teeth on her. "You're such a flirt, even when you're cold and grumpy." she accused, tilting her head to give him better access. "And for the record, I'm not complaining either." Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. "This is kind of cozy, isn't it? Being stuck in here with you."

"Cozy is an understatement." he agreed, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her up against him. "I'm starting t’think the power going out was a blessing in disguise," he joked, his fingers splaying out on her lower back. "Who needs lights when I have you glowing like a little human heater in my arms?" He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her.

"You're...warm. Warmer than the fireplace I was counting on." Her laughter was soft, breathy as she sunk into the body head they shared. "You think our cookies are okay?" she asked, pressing a gentle kiss just below his jawline, making him shiver. "Or have they gone completely hard in the cold?" 

Her voice held a playful innuendo that made him smirk in the darkness. "Not as hard as I am right now..."

“Oh trust me, I can feel how hard you are.” It had taken her by surprise to feel him against her but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it. “Though I will say I much prefer your type of hard.”

Harry's breath hitched at her playful words, his body reacting instantly to the innuendo. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me." he grumbled. "Let's just say the cookies aren't the only thing getting hard in this cold, but at least mine can be useful.." He leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up desire and affection into it.

"I swear, if the power doesn't come back on soon, I might just have to warm you up in other ways," he murmured against her lips, his voice husky. His hands slid down to grip her thighs, squeezing gently as he pulled her core flush against him. "Though I have to admit, I'm kind of enjoying this forced intimacy too much." He nipped at her bottom lip, grinning in the darkness as she pouted against his mouth.

"Oh?" She questioned softly against his lips, her heart picking up. "And what exactly are these... other ways?" Her voice was breathy with anticipation, one hand sliding up his chest while the other remained wrapped around his neck. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch, matching her own rapid rhythm. The darkness seemed to fuel her courage, and she shifted slightly in his lap, making his breath hitch audibly. "Maybe I'd like to find out.” 

"Jesus Christ, you little minx." Harry whispered, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pulled her even closer. His lips moved to her neck, trailing hot kisses as he breathed against her skin, "You're playing with fire, love." The irony of that sentence was not lost on him. One hand moved up to cup her face while the other stayed firmly on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles. "Are you sure you want me to show you?" His voice was hoarse with desire, his control hanging by a thread in the dark intensity of the moment. "Because once I start… m’not sure I'll be able to stop." he finished, his words a low rumble against her throat. He dragged his lips along her collarbone, the scrape of his stubble leaving tingling trails on her skin. His hand on her thigh inched upward, fingers slipping teasingly beneath the hem of her shirt. "S’that what you want, sweet girl?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "For me to touch you in the dark?"

Y/N arched into his touch, a breathless moan escaping her lips at the feel of his fingers slipping beneath her shirt. "Yes," She breathed out, the word barely audible in the charged air between them. "I want all of you, Harry. Every inch." Her nails raked lightly down his back as she clung to him, her body trembling not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming need coursing through her veins. "Show me, baby.” She challenged, her voice trembling ever so slightly with need. "Touch me."

He groaned, the sound vibrating against her as his hands finally pushed her shirt up to bunch around her waist. His fingers splayed out on her bare stomach, inching upward slowly. "You're asking for trouble." The man warned, her breath hitching as his hands reached the underside of her breasts before going down, fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her belly.

Y/N's back arched as his fingers slipped inside to brush against her lace underwear, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel herself growing wet, her cunt aching as she realized just how much she actually needed this. "I want it. Don’t care if it’s trouble." she whispered back, hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth back to hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.

He swallowed her whimpers as his fingers finally hooked into the waistband of her leggings and slowly, slowly pulled them down. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw as his hands worked to remove it. "Lift f’me." he whispered, his anticipation growing. "Please, baby." She took the direction well- just like she always did. His fingers curled around her thighs, helping to lift her legs as he slowly peeled her leggings and underwear off, leaving her bottom half bare in his arms. Pulling the blanket back over them, he placed another delicate kiss to her lips, letting them stick for a moment. “Need t’keep the shirt on. it’s too cold for you to be fully naked… what a shame.”

One hand cupped her over her pussy, his middle finger slowly sliding through her wet folds making her gasp loudly. "Fuck you're wet." he whispered in awe, his voice thick with desire as he began to stroke her gently. "Soaked through just from my touch... my girl wants it bad, doesn't she?" The cool air of the cabin contrasted sharply with the heat between her legs as his fingers explored her. “God, you're gorgeous like this, all hot n’ready for me, even in the freezing cold." He licked a his lips before capturing hers in another searing kiss, swallowing her moan as his fingers circled her clit deliberately. "I could keep you warm all night long, couldn't I?"

Y/N nodded, clutching onto his shoulders as her hips moved slightly. He could touch her the whole night and she’d happily preen and melt into him. Harry had the handbook to how to make her feel good, and she wasn’t going to deny him. She didn’t want to.

"Mmm, that's what you needed. Go ahead n’make yourself feel good.” he praised, his fingers moving in teasing circles over her clit as she rocked against him. "Use me, take what you need." His other hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breast as he took her mouth in deep kisses. He could feel her body trembling with need, her hips moving more urgently against his fingers.

Just being touched like this was making her hot. No power and snowstorm be damned, she knew at the end of this she was going to be a sweaty mess. She always was.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy, baby. Jus’ like you always do." He sighed against her lips, his fingers picking up speed over her clit. Her wetness coated his digits, making the motion slick and addictive. "I can feel how badly you need me." He pinched her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her cunt. His cock throbbed insistently against her thigh, reminding her of his own desperate arousal. "Tell me what you want, Y/N."

"Want you inside me, Harry," the girl breathed out, her voice shaking slightly as he slipped a finger inside of her. "I need your cock, please. I need you to fuck me, fill me up, make me forget about the cold and the darkness." Her hips rocked against his hand again, seeking friction. She gasped as he pulled his finger out, her pussy clenching desperately around nothing.

"This what you want, Y/N?" He teased, his tip brushing against her through the thin sweatpants. "My thick, hard cock stretching you out, filling you up completely?" He paused, his voice a dark hum that warmed her bones. "Ask me again.”

"Please, baby…" she whimpered as she felt him pressing against her. "Fuck me. I need your cock to warm me up. Please just put it in me." Her hips rolled, trying to push herself onto his length. "M’so cold.”

He crooned, a low rumble in his chest. "Cold, huh? Let me see if I can heat you up." With a swift motion, he pulled his throbbing cock out of his sweats, letting it spring free. The head was already slick with precum, pulsing with need for her as he positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip teasingly through her wet folds. "This better, sweetheart?" His voice was playful, but there was a desperate edge to it, mirroring his arousal.

"Mhm…" She sighed in relief, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she needed him. She was needy, cold and horny now, her pussy clenching around nothing. He always managed to work her up from 0 to 100. "Just fuck me, Harry. I can take it." Her teeth grazed against his ear as she spoke, her body seeming him out. "Please?" She rocked her hips against him, trying to push his cock inside her aching cunt on her own.

He let out a hiss in pleasure as the tip of his cock caught on her entrance, the warmth and wetness enveloping just the head. "Fuck, tiny little cunt. Shouldn’t be able t’fit, but we’ll make it. Won’t we?" He cooed, his hips jerking forward slightly, pushing the tip inside her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he began to slowly slide deeper. "So fucking tight and wet for me." He bottomed out with a satisfied grunt, his balls pressing against her ass.

"God, you’re always so incredible," he breathed out, his hands sliding around to grip her ass as they both adjusted to her pussy being fully sheathed inside her. "Taking me so deep like this... fuck, you're perfect." His voice was ragged with desire as he slowly pulled back before thrusting in again, establishing a steady rhythm. The darkness enhanced every sensation - the tightness of her pussy around his cock, the scent of her arousal, the way she clung to him for warmth.

He began to move inside her with slow, deep thrusts, his large hands holding her in place as he kept his cock buried inside her warm, wet cunt. Dripping just for him. It amazed him each and every time, how she was tailor made just for him. "Gonna keep you warm, baby," he muttered against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Gonna keep you wrapped up in my arms and my cock all night long." He picked up the pace slightly, his hips hitching forward to bury himself inside her with a soft grunt each time. "Fuck, you're so warm... so fucking warm. This is how you’re gonna keep me warm. With this perfect pussy.”

She whimpered and clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she felt every twitch of his cock as he kept himself deep inside her for a moment after every thrust. "Fuck I... Harry.” She bleated, her breath hitching as he filled her up completely. "You fuck me so good. More... more." she begged, her body starting to shake less from cold and more from the building heat between them. "S’working... you're warming me up." She nuzzled into his neck, the labored breaths washing over his skin.

"Mmm, that's right m’love." he groaned, feeling her tighten around him. "I'll keep you warm up all night long." His thrusts grew stronger, more urgent, his hips slapping against hers in the darkness. "God, I love how you squeeze me, baby..." He nipped at her earlobe, tongue tracing the shell. "Think I need t’keep my cock in you all night. What do you think?”

"Yes." she gasped, as he fucked up into her. "Keep it in me all night, please. Don't ever take it out." Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him close as she rocked her hips to meet his thrusts. "I need it, Harry. I need your cock inside me all the time." She moaned loudly, her voice echoing in the silent cabin as he continued to fuck her hard and fast, his thick length stretching her open with every push.

As they moved together, the blanket gradually slipped lower, revealing her little sleep tee and the swells of her breasts beneath it. He could feel the cool air kissing their skin, making him groan. There was something about the contrasts of hot skin and cool air that drove him mad. "Blanket's falling," he murmured, his fingers curling around her shoulder to keep it in place. "Should I let it drop?" He punctuated his question with a deep, rolling thrust that made her whimper and cling to him tighter.

"Okay, my sweet girl. Let me see you then." he purred as she nodded eagerly beneath him. The blanket fell away completely, pooled around their waists as he continued to thrust into her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Keep grinding on me. Make sure t’keep my cock nice and warm for me, sweetheart." His breath was hot against the damp material, lips curling into a smirk as he felt a shudder run through her at the tease.

He latched onto one stiff peak through the cotton of her shirt, sucking hard as he continued to feel his cock sink her. She let out a high-pitched whine, her body bouncing shallowly on his lap as he ravished her sensitive nipples. The wet fabric clung to her skin,  going almost transparent to show the circles of her areolas. "So fucking hot," he mumbled against her breast, popping off to pay equal attention to its twin. His large hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly to meet his thrusts.

She could feel his thick shaft throbbing inside her as she bounced on his lap, the sensation making her slightly dizzy. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically, dripping onto his cock and balls with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of their fucking filled the cabin, driving them both insane. It was filthy, it always was, but that’s what she liked about it. "Fuck, can you feel that?" He groaned, feeling her slick walls engulfing him. "Your pussy's leaking all over me, Y/N. So goddamn wet and messy."

His cock pulsed inside her dripping cunt, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He loved how her cream coated him, making his thrusts slick and effortless. "That's it, baby, squeeze my cock." He encouraged through gritted teeth, his hips snapping up to meet her bounces. "Gonna fuck this perfect pussy all night long until you're soaked in cum and sweat." He leaned in, capturing her lips in a sloppy kiss, swallowing her moans as he pounded into her relentlessly.

She was a mess on his lap, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face, her shirt riding up to bunch up with its wet patches on her nipples, and her bare thighs trembling as she bounced on his fat cock. "Harry... Harry," she panted, her voice hoarse and broken as he continued to slam into her. "I can’t.”

He knew her well enough to hear the tone of her voice, notice her legs quaking and her bounces growing less enthusiastic. With a soft coo, he wrapped his arms around her and stood up, his cock still buried deep inside her. "Oh, my sweet baby. Legs giving out on me?" That was something he could easily take care of, laying her down on her back and settling between her spread thighs. "Don't worry, I'll do the work now. You just lay there n’let me keep you warm." 

Laying half on top of her, his arm wrapped around her to keep her tucked beneath him as he continued to fuck her. His chest pressed against her tits, his lips against her temple as he buried his face in her hair. The warmth of his body enveloped her, making her shiver with relief as he kept her covered and protected from the cold. His hips never slowed, his thick cock pounding into her relentlessly as he fucked her into the couch.

"There we are. That’s what m’girl needed, hm? Just needed me close, all the way inside you." he murmured against her temple as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. The new angle let him hit her perfectly, making her gasp and claw at his back. "Let me get that spot. Know just what you need." His weight pressed down on her, trapping her beneath him as he fucked her. One hand slid under her ass, tilting her hips to change the angle and make each thrust maximize her pleasure.

She was lost in a haze of warmth and pleasure, her legs locked around Harry's hips as he fucked her into the couch. Her arms wrapped around his back, clinging to him as he pressed her into the cushions with each thrust. "Oh my god." she whimpered, her voice muffled against his shoulder as she buried her face in his neck. "You’re keeping me so warm... don't stop, please don't stop..." Her body was jostled with each impact, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick length.

She was close to the edge. He knew it so well. It was in everything he could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, her breath hitching in her throat, and her fingers digging into his back. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged. "You're so close, I can feel it. Cum f’me, let me feel you fall apart on my cock." His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased her orgasm. "Squeeze me, Y/N. Milk my cock with that tight little cunt."

Her entire body tensed, her back arching off the couch as she teetered on the edge. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears as she fought to hold back the impending orgasm. Her pussy was a vice around his cock, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she struggled to contain the building pressure. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and her legs tightened around his hips, trying to keep him buried inside her as the climax threatened to consume her. It was too good- Y/N didn’t want it to end.

Harry knew all about it. "Let go for me, love... let go and feel me fill you up," he whispered urgent against her lips. "I wanna feel your sweet cunt milk every drop from my cock," he growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful. One hand slid between them to firmly press on her clit, pushing her over the edge. "Come on, baby... cum all over my cock," he encouraged hoarsely, his own release building in his balls. "Want to feel you dripping with my cum.” 

Her body never disobeyed him. He owned her in ways no one else ever had, and it was exactly why his permission had her falling over the edge, her vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, clamping down as she came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, each contraction milking his dick and forcing him deeper. Harry grunted, his hips jerking as he struggled to hold back his own climax. He rubbed her clit firmly, prolonging her orgasm as he fucked her through it, getting every drop of her pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Harry... please fill me up." she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. High off her orgasm and the need to make sure he was pleasured to, she needed it to feel complete. The feel of him throbbing inside of her was all the confirmation he needed. "I need your cum inside me... I need to feel you leaking out of me all night." She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, using her heels to push him deeper. "Cum. Cum in me. I need to feel it."

"Fuck!" He hissed, finally losing control. She was pleasured, she was comfortable, and he knew he could give in to his need. His cock swelled and he began to cum, pumping his hot seed deep into her. Right where it belonged. "Take it all, baby... take every fucking drop- fuck, I love you." He grunted, his hips jerking as he filled her completely. Harry could feel his cum leaking out around his still-pulsating shaft, creating an sticky, wet mess between them- his favorite. "God, you look so gorgeous like this... full of me."

She lay there, her eyes closed in bliss, a soft smile on her lips as she basked in the satisfaction of being filled with him. Her body felt heavy and relaxed, her mind drifting in a haze of contentment. She felt a little dribble of his cum escaping her full pussy, trailing down her thigh as she lay there, surrounded by him but it didn’t bother her. Harry was everywhere. Inside her, around her, on top of her… everywhere she always wanted him to be.

He gently kissed over her face, his lips brushing against her forehead, cheeks, and mouth in a tender, loving caress. This was what she deserved. Everything he could offer.. Once he was satisfied she was calm and comfortable, he tugged the blanket back over them, wrapping her up in his arms and his warmth.

He gazed down at her with a playful smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Perhaps he’d gone overboard considering how she was now covered in a light sheen of sweat, but he loved the view. The feeling. Everything about her. "So, think I managed t’keep you warm enough?" His voice was soft, tinged with amusement. The blanket cocooned them, trapping their combined heat, wanting to ensure she wouldn't feel even the slightest chill. "Warmer than the cabin fire, surely?" He quirked an eyebrow, awaiting her response with an expectant grin.

He really could be a little shit sometimes.

She rolled her eyes playfully, snuggling deeper into his arms with a contented sigh. "Much warmer, you idiot. Almost too warm now.” She teased, fanning herself dramatically. "Guess we'll just have to endure being wrapped up in our sexy little blanket for the rest of the night." Her eyes tinged with trouble as she gazed up at him, her swollen lips curving into a sultry smirk. "Think you can handle keeping me this warm all night?" "Oh, I think I'm more than up for the challenge, gorgeous girl." he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. “Think the storm isn’t going to end until the morning. We’ve got plenty of time to spend.”

[megalony]

Accidental Damage

As promised, here is a new Eddie Diaz imagine which I think has turned out rather well.

Please let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Shannon turns up out of the blue, wanting to see Chris, but he doesn't want to see her. He thinks of (Y/n) as his mum now. (Y/n) tries to calm the situation, but things end up getting out of hand and an incident occurs.

Enjoy.

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A groan tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned forward until her arms were folded across the kitchen counter. Her forehead pressed into her arms and her lower back arched out to try and relieve the tension in her system.

It felt like her head was being smashed with a hammer and although leaning over like this was helping her head, it made her stomach feel heavy and weigh towards the floor.

Her eyes remained closed which seemed to help with her headache and she slid one arm off the counter to run along the side of her stomach. The baby was lively today. That was probably why she had a headache. The baby had been active enough last night that (Y/n) couldn't get much sleep and now she felt groggy and run down. She couldn't wait for Eddie to come home this afternoon; he always knew how to make her feel better.

The doorbell jolted (Y/n) out of her wallowing state and acted as a restart button in her system.

She pushed off the counter and slid her hand around to press into her back to click her spine into place as she straightened up. Two and a half months left of these aches and pains, and then she and Eddie would have a baby in their arms. It couldn't come soon enough.

She slowly headed out the kitchen and when she was in the hall, she heard the pop music blasting from Chris's bedroom which made her smile. He was doing some colouring and singing away to himself. He was happy and content in his room.

The doorbell chimed again and (Y/n) quietly groaned and began trudging down the hall.

It couldn't be Buck because he was supposed to be on shift the same as Eddie today, both of them should finish later this afternoon and Eddie said he would be home in time for tea. And (Y/n) knew her sister was at work at dispatch today, so it couldn't be Maddie popping round for a chat either.

She couldn't think who it would be as she shuffled towards the door on unsteady feet.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and tried to hold her chin up and straighten her shoulders as she unlocked the door. Greeting anyone while she was doubled over and looked like she had just woken up from a thousand year nap wasn't going to give the best impression, no matter who was on the other side of the threshold.

"Hello?" Her smile morphed into a look of confusion and uncertainty when she looked at the woman on the doorstep.

Oh dear.

Shannon.

Her long brown curls were hanging over her shoulders and her fringe, as always, was cut very close to her eyes like she used her fringe as a curtain to hide away from the world. But there was something scrutinising behind her eyes that made (Y/n) shiver and feel like retreating into her home for safety and sanctuary.

Shannon's smile wasn't inviting. It was a tight smile, as if smiling any wider or relaxing any further would cause her to fragment into pieces.

She had one hand around her bag on her shoulder and her other hand was nervously rubbing across her hip like she had too much energy and didn't know what to do with herself.

"What're you doing here?" (Y/n) tried to keep her tone neutral but it was extremely hard when Shannon was glaring at her like that with curled lips and an upturned nose. She looked displeased, but it was (Y/n) who should be unsettled out of the pair of them.

Shannon couldn't just turn up here whenever she felt like it. If she wanted to see Chris she had to call first and arrange a date to visit, and they didn't usually do visits at home. (Y/n) couldn't recall the last time Chris had seen Shannon, it had been months ago when she had last been in town. Unscheduled visits weren't good for Chris because seeing Shannon always unsettled him and made him upset.

"Hi to you too." Shannon's hand tightened around her bag but the way she looked (Y/n) up and down made her shiver.

(Y/n) hadn't had too many run-ins with Eddie's ex. They knew each other, of course they did, (Y/n) had been to the very few scheduled meets between Shannon and Chris. And Eddie had to tell Shannon when he got re-married because (Y/n) was all Chris had talked about at the time. But both women hardly ever saw one another these days.

"Eddie never said you were expecting." A disgruntled look flooded Shannon's face and (Y/n) could of sworn she could see jealousy pooling within her eyes.

She glanced down to her stomach and moved one arm to curve around her waist almost protectively.

Did Eddie have to tell Shannon everything that went on in his life? They hardly spoke, only when they wanted to arrange meets for Chris and that wasn't a regular occurrence in itself. But a pang did shoot through (Y/n)'s chest at the thought that Eddie didn't mention it. He didn't have to, but surely it was something that should come up in conversation.

Them having a baby changed things. It cemented things for Chris, it made them a family and a sibling was something Chris was going to talk about if he had more meetings with Shannon.

"Did he need to?" She tilted her head to one side and tried to keep her stoic expression. Eddie wasn't on good speaking terms with Shannon these days, and he didn't have to tell her anything about his life if he didn't want to.

(Y/n) found herself stepping closer to the threshold so she could pull the door with her, standing in the small space between the frame and the door. She didn't want Chris hearing or knowing who was at the door because seeing Shannon only upset him.

He hadn't understood in the beginning when Shannon left, he had been frightened and confused, but he didn't hold it against her. When she came back into his life after three years, he was delighted. But it didn't last very long. Chris didn't see her often, Shannon wasn't ready to commit to him fully and that broke Chris.

When Eddie married (Y/n), Chris felt like he had another mum, someone who loved him and who he could rely on. He felt that stability being threatened whenever Shannon came around.

How would Chris take this if he found his mother on the doorstep? He would get worried about being abandoned again or worry that Shannon would try and take him from this home. This family where he was happier than ever. And if Shannon left again, (Y/n) and Eddie would have to deal with the aftermath. They couldn't let him get hurt again.

She could see the anger that swirled in Shannon's eyes and the resentment that was plastered across her face when her upper lip curled and she was at the point of baring her teeth.

"I think it's rather important, don't you?"

"Maybe if you were more involved, he would have told you." (Y/n) couldn't help her quipped response.

Shannon and Eddie were divorced, they were legally cut from one another, no more ties connecting them to reopen the wounds that had taken years to heal. Did Shannon believe Eddie would never get into another serious relationship with someone else?

It wasn't as if he had left Shannon a few months ago and had quickly moved onto (Y/n). It had been four years since they split up, not four months.

"Why're you here?"

"I want to see my son."

Shannon pursed her lips and squared her shoulders like she was preparing herself for an interview. She tried to lean around (Y/n) and look into the house, but she couldn't see very much with the way (Y/n) had angled the door.

"Not today." (Y/n) shook her head and clung to the door a bit tighter. Why couldn't Shannon have turned up yesterday when Eddie had been home? Why did she have to come here now, when (Y/n) was on her own and more importantly, when Chris was home? This wasn't fair.

"You don't get to make the rules here-"

"And you don't get to turn up when it suits you, and mess with Chris's head and then flaunt off for God knows how long again. I know Eddie's talked to you about this. Call him if you want to see Chris and we can arrange something, but you can't do this."

It wasn't fair on Chris. They had it in writing. When Eddie and Shannon got divorced, it was part of the agreement that Chris would stay with Eddie and Shannon was able to visit. But she had to pre-arrange those visits and if Chris said no, he couldn't be forced to see her. But Chris often felt guilty and he didn't feel able to say no.

Shannon couldn't turn up and decide when and where she wanted to see Chris, that wasn't good for him. He liked routines and structure and turning up unannounced like this was only going to unsettle him.

"Mum, can we do some more painting?"

(Y/n) tilted her head down and stared at her feet as she leaned on the door frame.

She had been worried about this.

When Chris asked her if she would adopt him, (Y/n) had cried. It had been such a good moment, one she would never forget and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it when Chris started calling her mum. It was delightful, but (Y/n) feared the day it would happen when Shannon was within earshot.

She knew it couldn't be nice to hear her son calling someone else his mother, but then again, this whole situation was Shannon's doing. She wasn't the victim here.

A dangerous look crossed Shannon's face. It was as if all the anger was physically bubbling up inside of her and her skin started to turn a dark shade of rouge while her hands balled up into fists at her sides.

She wasn't stupid. She knew Chris didn't know she was here on the doorstep and if he did, that wouldn't be the first thing he called out to her. He was asking for (Y/n). He was calling (Y/n) his mum. It was as if reality came crashing down onto Shannon and showed her just how much time had passed since she last saw her son. Time was telling her that there was always a deadline and she had far missed it by a few years.

(Y/n) had stepped into the role Shannon had left behind. She had become Chris's mother and he was thrilled to have her in his life.

"You are not his mother. I am." The way she sneered the words made (Y/n)'s breathing quicken and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to throw up.

She wished Eddie was home.

Her hand stayed on her stomach and began to rub soothing circles when the baby started to kick up a fuss, but it didn't feel the same as when Eddie was here. His touch was a natural remedy for (Y/n), the baby livened up when Eddie was around and settled at the sound of his voice.

"What kind of mother disappears for four years at a time? I'm here with him every day-"

"I had to leave, you wouldn't understand, but I thought of him every single day."

The tears in her eyes almost made (Y/n) feel bad. Almost. But she couldn't agree with her. Leaving for a few weeks, a few months at a push, was understandable. But all this time was simply incomprehensible. No calls. No letters or visits or zoom calls. She cut all ties with Chris like he was nothing but a distant relative to her and (Y/n) couldn't understand that and if it was her place, she wouldn't forgive that either.

"While you thought of him, I took care of him. He wants to call me his mum and Eddie's fine with that. It's his choice."

(Y/n) loved Chris, but she wouldn't say that to Shannon. She wouldn't dig the knife in any harder when it wasn't necessary. She would try and be civil because she wasn't in any mood or any state to be stood here arguing when this was her own home and Shannon shouldn't be here.

"Mum!" Chris's high-pitched whine broke through the corridor and (Y/n) cringed when she heard his footsteps approaching and the sound of him patting his hands on the walls. Something he often did when he was walking without his crutches, his way of making sure he didn't go too fast and trip up.

"Just a minute-" She closed her eyes and sighed when he barrelled over to her.

He was a social butterfly. Chris loved going out places and having people come over and he loved to see who was at the door and invite people in.

He hurried over to (Y/n) and looped his arms around her waist with his head on her shoulder. But when he leaned forward and nudged the door so he could see who was on the doorstep, all the colour seemed to fade from his skin. His smile disappeared and the light burned out of his eyes when he saw Shannon stood on the doorstep.

Panic welled up in Chris's chest and he clutched at (Y/n) tighter until she winced and felt like he was going to squeeze her until she burst.

Her arm looped around his shoulders and she ran her hand up and down his back to try and keep him calm and reassure him that everything was okay, but he looked worried. The way he pressed into her side and tucked his cheek into her chest told (Y/n) he wasn't happy. He tended to cling to her a lot more when he was unsettled or worried about something, and right now, he was scared.

He actually winced when Shannon smiled and tried to lean closer to him and he saw how her face fell when he pushed into (Y/n) and twisted away from Shannon like he thought her touch was infectious.

"Why you here?" His words were slightly muffled against (Y/n)'s chest and he actually flinched when Shannon tried to squeeze his arm.

He hated the way her expression dropped and he could see tears in her eyes because Chris hated upsetting her. Before she left, they had been close. She had been his mum and she meant the world to Chris, but that had all changed.

(Y/n) was his mum now.

She was the one who cooked with him, who picked him up from school and helped him with his homework. She tucked him in bed at night and read books with him. (Y/n) held him when he was panicking or having a meltdown and she laid with him when he was sick. She took him out on trips and was with him every day without fail.

She was the woman his dad loved, she was the one who lived with them and who was always making his dad smile. She had become his mum and now he was having a baby sister. This was his family, Chris didn't want Shannon disrupting what they had.

"She just came to talk for a minute, that's all." (Y/n) lifted her hand from Chris's shoulder so she could card her fingers through his curls.

She didn't want him to get upset or start panicking. He didn't have to sit and talk to Shannon today if he didn't want to and no one was going to make him go out for contact with her if he wanted to stay home.

(Y/n) darted her eyes from Chris back to Shannon and she tried not to flinch at the look she was being given by the other woman. Shannon had her nose curled and her arms were deadlocked around her chest, but (Y/n) could see her fingers tapping on her arms and one foot was tapping irrationally against the floor. She was clearly distraught about this news and didn't know what to do with herself.

"What gives you the right to be his mother?" Her voice was quiet but the malice laced in her tone made (Y/n)'s stomach drop and she knew Chris heard because he flinched and tucked further into (Y/n)'s side.

"I adopted him."

(Y/n) sucked in a deep breath when she felt Chris's arms pinch into her waist and he bound himself tighter into her side until he was pressing uncomfortably on the baby. She tried not to lean into Chris too much but she couldn't help but fidget when the baby started to wriggle and Chris was squeezing all the air out of her lungs.

The way he looked up at her made (Y/n) want to cry. She could see the fright hidden within his eyes, and she knew exactly what he was afraid of.

When (Y/n) and Eddie got married, Chris had sat down with them one afternoon and timidly asked if (Y/n) would adopt him. It had been his idea and both (Y/n) and Eddie had been in shock and tears at his request. They both agreed immediately because it was a lovely thing for Chris to ask and it was the responsible thing for them to do.

That way, if Eddie ever got hurt on shift again like when he got shot, or something happened, he didn't have to worry about who would look after Chris. He wouldn't panic about a fight happening between his parents and (Y/n) because Eddie knew Chris would want to stay with (Y/n) if anything happened to him, but his parents might want to take Chris. This way, it was all legal and set in stone.

And it felt more safe and secure for Chris and meant he could call (Y/n) his mum for real because she technically was now.

But Chris had been worried. He was frightened that because he asked for (Y/n) to adopt him, then he might upset Shannon. He was scared she would think he was replacing he. He used to be so close to Shannon before she left and Chris never liked to upset her and he knew this would hurt her. He only calmed down when Eddie promised him that he had nothing to be ashamed of and everything was okay.

"What?" Shannon spoke as if this was some kind of atrocity and her expression was as livid as anyone (Y/n) had ever seen.

Her eyes darted between (Y/n) and Chris, but it was (Y/n) she was glaring holes into and (Y/n) feared if she weren't pregnant, the elder woman might have slapped her.

"But he's my son!"

"I married Eddie and his job is risky. I asked if I could adopt Chris so if anything happens to Eddie or the school can't get hold of him, I have a right to care for Chris. It was a precaution."

It meant Chris would never have to go and stay with Shannon or Eddie's parents if he didn't want to. He could stay with the person who had been raising him since she met Eddie. The woman who had taken him on as her own child. It meant he could stay with (Y/n).

The way Chris relaxed against (Y/n) made her feel a little better, especially when he stopped squeezing her. But the way he relaxed his arms made (Y/n)'s waist throb; he had been cutting off her circulation without realising. She could sense the panic dwindling down within him and it made her relieved.

She had made sure Shannon wouldn't find out Chris had asked for the adoption. She wouldn't let Chris panic or give Shannon any reason to be upset with him. (Y/n) was perfectly fine with Shannon hating her.

"Go inside baby, I won't be long." Turning to the side, (Y/n) kissed the top of Chris's curls and gently ushered him to go back inside.

Her eyes followed him as he headed towards the living room but he was constantly looking back over his shoulder to make sure both of them were okay and a fight wasn't going to break out. Chris didn't like this. He wanted (Y/n) to come back inside with him too and for Shannon to leave.

(Y/n) prayed that he was out of earshot, but she knew he hadn't turned the tv on so she figured he would be trying to eavesdrop. He was nervous and he wanted to make sure they weren't arguing about him and find out what was happening. Chris was going to try and listen in if he could.

She turned back to look at Shannon and her hand tightened around the door. "You need to go."

"You've taken my family. Chris is our son, I gave birth to him-" The way Shannon's hand splayed out at her side and she stomped her foot on the porch made (Y/n) shudder.

"And I'm the one who stayed. You have a problem with that, go call Eddie."

She wasn't doing this anymore. She wasn't standing around arguing with her husband's ex. If Shannon wanted to talk, she could go and phone Eddie and arrange to meet with him or try and meet with Chris. She couldn't turn up and start a fight like this and expect (Y/n) to back down and go along with it.

With a deep breath, she stepped back and tried to shut the door but it didn't work so well when Shannon stuck her foot in the way and tried to push her way inside.

This argument wasn't over and Shannon wasn't leaving now she had heard this bombshell. She wanted to talk about this and she wanted to talk to Chris.

"Get out or I'm calling Eddie." Panic struck a chord in (Y/n)'s chest and she shivered as she tried to shove the door again to get Shannon to move.

She was going to have to phone Eddie.

He was at work, he could be out on a call in the middle of a hectic situation and (Y/n) promised herself never to call him at work unless it was an emergency. Or she was calling in the evening so he could say goodnight to Chris.

Did this count as an emergency?

Shannon was trying to get into their home, she was going to cause an argument and she was going to upset Chris. Maybe getting Eddie on the phone or at least pretending to call him might make Shannon relent and leave. She must know this wasn't going to do Chris any good, it wasn't fair to him.

"Call him." The way Shannon leaned closer and sneered down at (Y/n) made her stumble back a step which in turn allowed Shannon to push inside. "How would you like it if I took your baby?"

Her hand swatted out near (Y/n)'s stomach and for the first time, she thought she saw tears welling up in Shannon's eyes. But she couldn't be sure if they were tears of agony, anguish or frustration at being left behind.

"Shannon stop- please-" (Y/n) looked over her shoulder towards the living room but she couldn't see Chris.

She was going to upset him.

(Y/n) couldn't be sure what words tumbled past Shannon's lips in a fury, but she knew she heard '… isn't fair' and 'not yours' and those last words cut to her heart. She may not have given birth to Chris, but she had certainly bonded with him and took him on as her own. She was as good a mother as anyone else and it wasn't her fault that Shannon had stepped aside long enough for (Y/n) to take her place. Wasn't it better for Chris to have someone he saw as a mum than nobody at all?

Trying again to shut the door, (Y/n) nudged Shannon back and planted her feet on the spot so Shannon couldn't push past her. This was her home and she wasn't having anyone barge their way inside like this.

But the way Shannon shoved the door with so much frustration and callousness made the door swing back at (Y/n). Coupled with the way Shannon pushed into her, (Y/n) stumbled back.

Her eyes snapped closed and her arms coiled into her chest but it didn't prevent the shriek from leaving her lips when her feet slid from beneath her and her back collided with the cabinet. Shockwaves rattled through her system and she felt her limbs shaking and jerking when her lower back rammed into the edge of the cabinet before she landed on the floor on her bum with a thud.

"Shit!" Her hand slammed out into the cabinet in frustration and she tilted her head back until she was leaning against the wall.

Both her legs trembled against the floor and one hand pressed into the floor to steady herself while the other moved to cradle her bump. It had been her back that hit the cabinet, her back that was now pulsing in agony from the shock. But she could feel the baby wriggling and kicking as if she had suddenly woken them up from a nap.

She hadn't fell on her stomach or knocked her bump at all and she wasn't crippled in horrible agony, it was just her lower back that was going to be bruised come tomorrow.

"Mum?!" The terror in Chris's voice made (Y/n) cringe and she opened her bleary eyes to see him hurrying her way.

His knees made a horrid sound when he crashed to the floor beside her and his hands were instantly grabbing at her arms, trying to comfort her and check whether she was okay. The way Chris's features steadily started to redden and tense made (Y/n) wince; her boy looked furious.

"It's okay- I'm okay." She couldn't hide the wince that flashed across her face when she sat up and she moved her hand to rub at her back near her hips. But when she felt Shannon's hands reaching out for her arms to try and help her up, she roughly flung her arm out.

"Don't touch me." She spat roughly and grabbed the cabinet to try and use it as leverage to get herself up.

She could feel Chris's hands on her back and arm, trying to help her up and once she was on her feet, he attached himself to her like a leech. His face merged into her chest and he tried to let her lean on him just in case she didn't feel well or she might collapse. But when he turned to look at Shannon, anger burned within his chocolate eyes.

"Go away!" His voice was high and rough and he tugged (Y/n) back with him to add distance between them and Shannon.

For the first time, Shannon looked at a loss for words and what to do and she seemed to dither on the spot. She wanted to protest, it was clear in her expression that she wanted to try and explain and patch up this situation because she didn't want Chris to be upset with her. But the damage was already done and there wasn't anything Shannon could do.

"Just leave."

The moment she slammed the door behind her, (Y/n) turned and kissed Chris's temple. She curled her arms around him and they stood there for a little while, hugging one another.

"You hurt?" She could hear the panic in his voice and it made her arms tighten around him.

"No baby, I'm alright." She hummed into his hair and slowly turned to try and guide him back to the living room. She was okay, but she wanted to sit down, and she didn't want Chris to be worrying about her. He was upset enough as it was. He didn't have to try and look after (Y/n), she was okay and she was the one who needed to comfort him.

"Should I call dad?"

"No, don't tell your dad."

(Y/n) didn't want Eddie panicking. She would tell him later on when he came home if she needed to. There was no point worrying him now when he was at work.

***

"What have you been up to today?" Eddie tilted his head down and kissed the top of Chris's head when his boy barrelled into him. He had barely been in the house two minutes and Chris was hugging him like they hadn't seen each other in days, weeks, months even.

"Panting." The word was mumbled into Eddie's chest, but it was the tone of Chris's voice that set Eddie on edge.

"Oh yeah, let me see." He glanced his eyes around the living room but he looked back down to Chris when he shook his head against Eddie's chest.

"Not finished yet."

With that, Chris huffed and finally unravelled from their hug. He snatched up the few paintings he had been trying to work on all afternoon and trudged down the hall in a sluggish manner like he was half asleep.

Eddie stood watching him, a dumbfounded expression on his face and his head tilting to one side as Chris disappeared into his room.

That wasn't the usual welcome he got when he came home. Chris never usually hugged him that desperately unless Eddie had been on double shifts or Chris wasn't well or was feeling upset. And he was usually bright and bubbly and eager to tell Eddie what he had been up to whether it was about his lessons in school or what he and (Y/n) had been doing during the day.

With a shake of his head, Eddie headed out the living room and peered into the dining room before he headed into the kitchen, looking for his wife.

His eyes settled on (Y/n) who was drifting around the kitchen like she was in a world of her own. She looked like she was tidying up, but the way she practically thrust the plates into the cupboard and how they rattled like they were about to shatter told Eddie that maybe, (Y/n) wasn't herself either.

"Baby, are you both okay? Chris barely spoke to me, he seems anxious." Eddie headed into the kitchen and leaned one hand on the kitchen island while his other hand found his hip and his head tilted to one side.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) arched her back out and leaned on the counter while she moved one hand to run up and down her face. She was glad her back was currently to Eddie or he would have seen the tears welling up in her eyes. She knew he could read every one of her expressions and if she turned to look at him, he would know she was upset- no, she was furious. And in agony.

"Shannon stopped by." It took a lot of effort to control her voice and try to sound passive and calm rather than infuriated and pained.

She put another few pots back in the cupboards but she couldn't refrain from reaching her hand around to press into her lower back that felt like it was on fire. It was as if every nerve was igniting and sizzling like a fuse on a firework.

When she went to the bathroom, (Y/n) didn't dare turn around and look in the mirror because she didn't want to see the bruises that were going to be littering her lower back. It didn't feel like she had fallen that badly earlier, but after an hour, her back began to seize up and ache and now it was getting worse.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know." She shook her head, wiped her hands beneath her eyes and finally turned around to face him. "You tell her not to pull a stunt like that again, Chris saw her and it's rattled him. She does that again and I'll swing for her."

Eddie's eyes widened and he took a deep breath as he moved to stand in front of her. The way her voice wobbled and the way she kept tensing her neck and tilting her chin told Eddie she was finding it hard not to burst into tears.

He hadn't known Shannon would turn up today. Eddie couldn't remember the last time he spoke to her, it had been that long. She never usually turned up unannounced and if she did, it was to talk to Eddie about something, not to blunder in and try to disrupt their lives and see Chris. She knew how upsetting it would be for hi,- at least, Eddie thought he had made that clear.

His heart lurched into his throat when he saw the grimace that flooded (Y/n)'s face and the way she leaned back on the counter like she couldn't hold herself up.

Reaching out, Eddie took (Y/n)'s arms and reeled her off the counter in favour of looping her arms around his neck instead. His hands moved to her waist and he pulled her closer until her bump was pressing into his abdomen and he leant his head down until their temples were pressed together.

"Hey, hey calm down." His hands gently squeezed her waist and he took a few deep breaths to try and coax (Y/n) to do the same. "I'll call her tomorrow and set the ground rules again, I'll make it clear she can't come by unannounced."

(Y/n) nodded and tried to take a deep breath. "Good."

Her eyes closed for a few moments but her hands tightened around Eddie's neck and she leaned into him when her back twinged.

"Are you okay?" Eddie's hand shifted from her waist to cup the side of her face and he stroked his thumb across her cheek as his eyes narrowed.

"Just- just worked up." She tried to nod her head but the reassuring look faded from her eyes and she let her eyes cast down to Eddie's chest so he didn't see the pain sparking within them. She didn't want to worry him. That was the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do. She didn't want to argue about Shannon either, her being here had caused enough arguments and problems as it was.

"Well that's not allowed, so go sit down and calm down for me. Hm?"

He tilted his head down to steal a kiss but he felt the way (Y/n)'s breathing hitched against his and how she seemed to lean into him a little more as if she didn't want him to let go. His touch lingered on her hips when (Y/n) finally moved out of his hold and his eyes followed her and the way she kept moving her hand towards her back as she walked.

Something wasn't right. She didn't look well.

(Y/n) was sure she heard the kettle flick on in the background and she heard Eddie humming as he set about making a drink.

Her eyes cast about the living room but she sighed when she realised Chris must have gone to his room. He usually sat with them when Eddie came home and he hadn't finished his paintings, the brushes and paint pallet were still on the coffee table along with the painting table cloth. Chris usually tried to finish any artwork he started, he didn't like leaving them. Shannon had really disgruntled him today.

(Y/n) shuffled between the chair and the sofa, aiming to tidy the coffee table but she doubled over when her back twinged again.

Her left hand moved to cradle her lower bump and her other hand grabbed the armchair before she stumbled to her knees.

"Fuck." She tipped her head down and closed her eyes, trying to ward off the pain in her back. She was going to have to get Eddie to take a look, she couldn't carry on with this striking pain that was steadily getting worse; she had definitely pulled a muscle or trapped a nerve when she fell.

Maybe sitting down like Eddie suggested would do her some good and make her feel better.

She moved to try and ease onto the sofa, but she stopped abruptly when another pain struck her, but it wasn't her back again. It was her stomach.

Her left hand reached out for the sofa but when she moved her right hand down from her stomach to her thighs, a cold slither of dread slithered down her spine. Everything started to spin and her body succumbed to trembling when she saw the blood coating her palm.

Her fingers rapidly skimmed across her thighs again and she pulled at her leggings and noticed they were starting to become damp.

"Eddie… Eddie, oh God."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she whimpered, unable to take her eyes off her palm that was coated with blood. This wasn't good. Why was she bleeding? She had been okay earlier, except for the back pain.

"What- baby what happened?" He felt the way she jumped when his hands found her arms and he carefully turned her around so she was facing him when (Y/n) stayed deadlocked in place.

His eyes narrowed and he looked (Y/n) up and down, trying to see what was worrying her. But he hated the look on her face when she held her hand out towards him and whimpered. He didn't realise he was moving until his hand was gripping her wrist tightly and his other hand stayed on her elbow.

He stepped closer until there was barely any space between them and he roamed his frantic eyes up and down her frame to find the source of the blood. He didn't like what he saw.

"I don't- oow." When she crippled forward and pressed her face into his chest, Eddie cupped the back of her neck and kissed her head.

He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, trying its best to break out of her chest and envelope around (Y/n). He wanted to calm her down, he wanted to tuck her safely into his heart and look after her but to do that he was going to have to take her to hospital.

"Shit, shit baby just stay there a minute. I'll grab Chris and see if Buck can watch him, you need to go to the ER."

(Y/n) shook her head and tried to push into Eddie when he moved to weave around her. She choked on her breath, desperate for Eddie to stay here with her. She didn't want to be left on her own, not for a second. She didn't know what was happening and she needed to keep the baby safe.

"One minute baby, I swear." His wet lips pressed into her rather warm temple and he helped her lean against the sofa before he sped down the hall.

He sent a few rushed texts off to Buck to see if he could have Chris and he could of cried when he got an instant response saying to drop Chris off. Both Eddie and Buck had just left shift and come home, Buck had no plans and he would always look after his nephew whether it was an emergency or not.

He rapped his knuckles on the bedroom door and leaned in the doorway, waving his hand at Chris who was laid on his bed on his stomach with a book in front of him.

"Buddy, come with me, I'm gonna drop you with uncle Buck. I need to take mum to the doctor." He didn't want to worry Chris, he really didn't, but he needed them to get a move on. They had to leave now.

"Is she hurt?"

The panic that flooded Chris's face took Eddie by surprise and he tilted his head to one side, squinting at his son in confusion. Eddie said the doctor, not the hospital. Could he see the panic on Eddie's face so clearly, or was he worried about something else?

"Uh, no, she's not feeling well. Come on, quick as you can." When he motioned his hand out towards Chris, his boy hopped off the bed and scuttled over to him immediately.

He burrowed into Eddie's side and let his dad usher him out of the room and into the hall. But Eddie could feel his boy trembling and shrinking in on himself like he was afraid of something.

Their speed-walk slowed down somewhat when Chris tilted his head back into Eddie's chest and looked up at his dad with big blown eyes and pursed lips.

"Is- is it because of the fall?" He cringed when he saw his dad's face fall and a manic look flooded his face.

Chris knew he wasn't technically supposed to talk about it, his mum asked him not to because she would explain. And he didn't want to think back to what happened this morning when Shannon turned up. But if his mum wasn't well, then maybe it was because of what happened and if that was the case, then Shannon was to blame in this situation.

"What, what fall?" The suspicious tone in Eddie's voice made Chris shrink in on himself and he darted his head into the living room to look at his mum.

A dark look passed over Eddie's eyes and (Y/n) leaned on the back of the sofa to prop herself up when she felt like those daggers he was shooting her way were going to cut her into pieces. Her hands clutched at the sofa and her lower back arched out as she shook her head in Chris's direction.

"Chris, no-"

"You fell? Somebody explain to me now what happened."

(Y/n) could feel tears glistening in her eyes and trickling down her face at the demanding tone to Eddie's voice and the possessive look in his eyes. He looked more riled up than she had ever seen him and she knew it was making Chris unsure. He felt like he had said something wrong.

Moving her arm to point behind her, (Y/n) muttered "Go get in the car," to which Chris nodded immediately. He felt Eddie pass him down the car keys and he hurried towards the front door. He knew they would be in the car within a minute because they needed to go and whatever they talked about wasn't going to last long when (Y/n) needed a doctor.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) cast her eyes down to stare into her bump when she felt Eddie advance towards her. She shivered and held her breath when he stood beside her and she felt his hands cupping he face. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones and he tilted her head up so she was staring into those dark eyes that were burning through into her soul.

The way his lips pursed and his brows rose made (Y/n) shudder and she tried to hold back tears when his eyes burned into hers.

"What. Fall?"

His words were punctuated and slow and the deep breath he took made (Y/n) reach up and cling to his wrists to keep herself steady.

"Shannon wouldn't leave, I- I tried to get her to go… she blundered in a-and I fell against the cabinet. I thought- it was just my back, Eddie I didn't know," When her eyes cast down to her bump, (Y/n) couldn't help the little sob that bubbled past her lips and she gripped his wrists so tightly she cut off the circulation to his fingers.

It had been her back that hit the cabinet and it felt like she had hurt a muscle, she hadn't hit her stomach or fell on her bump or fallen with that much of a thud. She thought she would be okay. She thought the baby was okay, they had been wriggling and kicking since the small accident and she hadn't had any pains until this last hour.

"Okay, okay shh. It happens…" His lips attached to her temple and he let her lean into his chest and bind her arms around his chest.

Eddie understood, he knew some tiny falls could cause big impacts and other times a big fall or accident didn't do any harm at all to the baby. And if (Y/n) had felt fine until now then no one would have figured anything would of been wrong. But he needed to get her to the hospital now to look after her and the baby.

When a sudden thought dwelled at the front of his mind, Eddie's hands stiffened against her neck and he held his breath. He carefully reeled her head up from his chest to look down at her.

"Did she push you?" The dark, gravelly tone to his voice made (Y/n) tighten her arms around him.

"No, not really, but she- she wouldn't leave," More tears trickled down her face as Eddie carefully turned her around in his arms so her back was pressed up against his chest.

Eddie kept one hand firmly on her hip and held the other hand out in front of her so she could grip his hand for stability. He started to guide her towards the door with his lips attached to the back of her head and they walked in slow tandem together. But Eddie could feel every wave of pain that tore through (Y/n) and had her whimpering and doubling over.

She felt the growl that vibrated from Eddie's chest through to hers when they headed out the door and Eddie locked it behind them.

"I'll kill her for this."

[madwomansapologist]

you make loving fun | nanami kento x mom!reader

after years of pain and grief, nanami found himself going home for a placed filled with love and care. he wasn't there at the start, but he will be there until the very end. it's a promise.

cw: papamin au. step!dad!nanami. kid!yuji. fluff fluff fluff. domesticity. found family. the happy ending they both deserve.

an: inspired by this post from @froody and my own experience as someone who had a dad who not only stteped up, but levelled up.

Five minutes before the end of his shift, Nanami put on his coat and muted his notifications.

Staring at the analog clock, Nanami noticed he never did that before. He was never one to rush away from the office. One to get ready, to make sure no one could bother him, and wait for his free time to finally begin.

For how long was he the last to go home? Don't forget to turn off the lights, Nanami would hear that every night from whoever left before him. And make sure to lock the doors. Did he ever said that to someone? No. Probably no.

Once if felt useful. To work overtime was to get stronger to defeat curses. And in a world you won't gain anything for free, extra hours can feel less like a option and more like a duty. Sometimes you can be guilty for not working. It can feel wrong to just live.

But back then Nanami would come back to a empty house, sleep in a cold bed and not say a single word until the next morning. Back then there was no one waiting for him by the door, smiling simply because he came back. Back then he wasn't waiting for anything expect silence.

"Good night, 'amin", and after only twenty minutes he was parking in front of your house, watching how Yuji had to stand on his toes to reach the handle of the main door.

You told him last week Yuji would turn down the volume of his shows and videogames whenever a car passed near your home. He said Nanami drives so carefully he can always tell when to open the door.

"Good night, Yuji." Nanami locked the car, now feeling how cold it was out there. It rained this morning, the road is still wet. He opened his coat to protect Yuji from the wind, and then noticed he was still wearing his uniform. "You haven't showered yet?"

Yuji gave him a bright smile. "Mom's doing a surprise for you."

In moments like that, Nanami can see your shadow lingering over Yuji. He really is a copy of his mom. That charming smile, a tendency to avoid the subject of discussion, and that trick of revealing something exciting so their wrongdoing can be ignored.

"And what's your mom doing, kid?" And just like with you, Nanami always fall for that obvious trap.

"It depends", he said. "Will you watch Caillou with me?"

Nanami blinked. That kid. "Of course", Nanami accepted the deal, stroking his pink hair as they entered the house.

"I dunno", Yuji walked straight towards the living room, leaving Nanami speachless.

He placed his glasses on the table, now working on the knot of his tie. The aroma evolving the entire house was a telltale of your baking, and the sounds coming from his belly reminded Nanami of how long it has been since his last meal.

Deep into your own inner thoughts, you didn't noticed his presence. Nanami made sure to keep quiet, admiring you as you made sure you followed the recipe correctly.

So beautiful. Unaware of his gaze, he knew there was no flourish in the way you moved or how you murmured a song playing inside your head. You weren't trying to charm him, you were just being you, and that was more than enough for Nanami to fall in love with you once more.

It still surprises Nanami. How easy it's to love you. To be in love with you. None of you are performing. There is no lies between you two. Not when Nanami holds your hair so you can vomit. Or when you hear all the complains he kept to himself for years. Nothing but truth when you worried about Yuji's grades, when Nanami cried loudly watching a k-drama with you on the couch, when you sneezed on his mouth.

You make life real. You make loving fun.

It doesn't feel like work.

But that doesn't mean things suddenly get perfectly fine when you both are together. Nanami noticed you're still wearing formal clothes. Your eyes seemed so small, glaring at the phone as if it was miles away instead of in the counter in front of you. You haven't taken your earring off yet.

This house is safe. You made sure to build it with love, brick by brick. To give your son everything a child deserves: to be happy, protected, cared for. And there is no way of doing that alone without working until exhaustion.

But you're not alone anymore.

You haven't noticed his presence, and still Nanami didn't felt you shivering when he hugged you from behind. You recognized him. Was it his perfume? The warmth of his hands? Or perhaps how they always find a way to hold you by the hips, feeling the soft skin with his fingers?

"Yuji's gonna be a attorney", he whispered against your ear. You melt against his chest, eyes now wide open and looking deep into his. Nanami wondered if you felt his heart racing.

You smiled. "Are you saying my son is an asshole?"

"Never, my dear", Nanami hid his face at the curve of your neck. Breathing deep, he felt you shivering. You were using the perfume he gave you. "You're tired."

You sighed. Nanami is a man of few words. Sadly he's also a man of surgically right few words. "And so are you."

He kissed your skin. "I can keep an eye on him", Nanami murmured. "And another on the oven. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?" Tempted to accept, you also didn't want Nanami to feel like you were part of his daily duties. You rather give than take from him.

Nanami squeezed your hips, slowly allowing you to go away from him. He needed you to go, but he also needed you to stay. "This house won't burn down just because you stopped working."

"Oh, but it will. I assure you", you laughed it off.

Nanami knew it wasn't just a joke. He could almost taste that bitterness that follows truth. "It won't. I won't allow it."

When he heard you closing the bathroom door—never locking because a part of you was always ready to run if Yuji needs help—, Nanami sat down on the couch. Yuji held the control, so big on his tiny hands, and put on the show he always watches when Nanami is there with him.

This time Caillou was eating some sort of chocolate dessert. Yuji moved his mouth, quietly saying the lines from every character. "Isn't it your favorite series ever?", Yuji asked, laughing as Caillou tried to eat the dessert. "Everything he eats looks so good!"

"I never watched something so great", Nanami gazed at him. It was the forth time Nanami watched this episode. "I like that one when he plants carrots. You should try eating those."

Yuji made a face. "I prefer chocolate pudding."

Nanami looked at the television. He would be free the next day. Yuji behaved well in school recently. You mentioned even thinking about buying him a new video game. "We can make it tomorrow."

Yuji turned around so quickly he almost fell from the couch. "Really?"

"Really."

Drying your face with a towel, you checked the oven. The bread you made was still growing. Good. The television had a cartoon going on, you turned it off and went after your boys.

At Yuji's bedroom, you found him deep asleep. Nanami took off his shoes and socks, covering him with a thick blanket. He was still wearing his uniform, but he looked so at peace you couldn't force yourself to care deeply about it.

You kissed his forehead, whispered sweet nothings, and went back to the living room. A few moments later, Nanami turned the lights off and closed the bedroom door.

Sitting besides you, Nanami knew.

Life was good again.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[leashybebes]

this isn't quite a fix-it, but it opens the door to fix it. also i have had a real shitty week for a whole host of reasons and i'm getting out my sads. sorry!

Tommy drives away from Evan's - Buck's - the loft - for the last time feeling like he's been gutted. Liked he's gutting himself. He has to pull over at one point just to breathe, just so that if he's not driving he can't pull a highly illegal u-turn in the middle of the road and go back. 

The first voicemail is on his phone by the time he gets home. For a long, wavering moment, he thinks he isn't going to listen to it, but it never really feels like an option. In the cab of his truck, Tommy hits play. The message is thirteen seconds of silence, an inhale, and the dial tone. Tommy listens to it three times, turns the volume all the way up, blocks his other ear. 

It's just silence.

Everything is just silence.

—

The second message comes three days later, sometime during his shift, when he'd voluntarily benched himself for the first time in years, spent the day doing maintenance, his phone tucked away in his locker so he can stop feeling stupid for reflexively checking it every five minutes. Two weeks from now, he won't know Evan's schedule, but right now he knows he's on shift and part of him can't help anticipating those regular little updates. He knows they won't come - in his head he knows it, but his stupid, cowardly, aching heart is taking a minute to get with the programme.

That same stupid heart leaps when he sees the notification at the end of his shift. It plummets again quick enough, because he knows - he blew it all up so severely there's no way the message can be anything other than anger or practicalities, so he waits until he gets home to listen to it. It's not much longer than the silent one from the other day, but it's so much worse.

"I'm gonna send Eddie over with your stuff. Can you give him my things, please."

It sounds flat, rehearsed, awful. Tommy tells himself he doesn't have the right to feel sad, lets his eyes slide away from the bottle of scotch in the cupboard and goes for a late night drive instead.

When he gets home, he gathers the stuff Evan had left around over the course of the last six months - clothes, a phone charger, aftershave. He packs them into a box with his key to the loft, thinking about how he never used it unless he got there before Evan, thinking about all the lines he drew without even realising it. He tucks his heating pad in between two of Evan's shirts - Tommy doesn't get much use out of it anyway, and Evan always loved it on days when his leg flared up. Hopefully they can write it off as an oversight on his part, but he wants Evan to have it.

The conversation with Eddie is painfully awkward. Tommy doesn't dare to ask how Evan is doing, and Eddie doesn't need to ask Tommy how he is; it's written all over his face. He hasn't been sleeping, hasn't been working out. He hasn't been drinking either, but only because his self-imposed rules about when he's allowed to drink forbid it.

"Don't be a stranger," Eddie says as he's leaving. 

Tommy knows he will be. Enough time, enough distance, and he'll be a stranger to them all all over again. He'll be a memory for Evan for a while, but give it long enough, and he'll be a memory he doesn't remember. It'll be okay. It'll all be okay.

—

The third message comes a few weeks later. Tommy's out on another aimless drive - he doesn't love spending time at home anymore. He knows it'll get better, but for now, he's spending pretty much all his waking hours in his car, at the gym, and at work. Like the very first message, he stays in the cab of the truck when he listens to this one. He's glad he managed to put off listening until he got home because this - this is the one that devastates him.

"Hey, Tommy. It's Evan. Well, Buck, I guess."

Evan's drunk, and Tommy should stop listening to the message right now, for his own sanity, and for Evan's dignity come the morning. But his voice…

"I'm real glad I didn't break your heart, Tommy." It sounds mean, sharp, so un-Evan, but it's followed by a silence, and then, "I am. I actually am." There's another silence, a sniffle. "Wish you didn't break mine, but… whatever. Be safe, Tommy."

In the cab of his truck, clasping his phone so hard he's distantly a little worried he might crack the screen, Tommy cries for the first time.

—

There's a month and a half of silence after that, and he hopes that means Evan is moving on. Tommy gets back home from a failed attempt to visit an old hook-up spot and get out of his head for the night. He's had a few drinks because it didn't break the rules (it wasn't a bad shift, he wasn't alone and okay, yes, he's sad, but if he sticks religiously to that rule he might never know the simple pleasure of a cold beer ever again), but he's not drunk enough for it to cushion the blow when he flops down on his cold bed and hits play.

"Hey, uh. Happy birthday, Tommy. I hope you had a good day."

He didn't.

—

A month later.

"I went on a date tonight. It was with a woman though, so I'm gonna guess I'm still not queer the right way for you, huh? Fuck you, Tommy. My date fucking sucked."

Tommy feels about two feet tall, and like that's exactly how he deserves to feel. His thumb hovers over the block button for less than a second - he owes Evan the outlet, and that awful, scared little masochist that lives in the heart of him won't turn down the opportunity to let Evan's voice claw at him every chance he gets.

—

He tells himself he's not going to listen to the next message that comes through, but he's briefly very glad he does.

"Hey, Tommy. I wanted you to know - Maddie and Chim are having another baby. It's past three months so they're telling people now. I, uh - I just wanted you to know. Um." Abruptly, Evan sounds on the verge of tears. "I miss you, you dick. I wanted that with you. Fuck."

And then he's back to feeling crushed. It wouldn't have worked out. It wouldn't have. But he's sorry that Evan's still hurting. His own hurt is - it's just the baseline of his existence turned up a little louder than usual. It'll pass.

He tells himself that every day, every hour, every minute. It'll pass, it'll pass, it'll pass.

Howie texts him the same news later that day. Tommy thinks the message he sends back is perfectly normal, but Howie shows up at his door that night with a six pack of beer and that annoyingly perceptive air about him that makes Tommy feel seen and unsafe in the exact same way it has since the day they met.

The first beer, they talk about the pregnancy in light ways. Howie's excited. Maddie's perfect. Jee's ecstatic. Tommy's happy for them.

The second beer, Howie talks about how scared he is. How they have set ground rules and they're sticking to them, but he's walking through the world with a little core of fear inside him. Tommy almost cries.

The third beer, Howie asks how he's doing. Tommy does cry. Just a little, and he turns his face away quick enough that Howie doesn't see. He still knows, though.

"He leaves me these voicemails," Tommy says, and he sounds wrecked even to his own ears. "I know I don't - I don't have the right to miss him, but it - "

"Tommy."

"It hurts, Howie."

"I know, bud," Howie says, his hand on the back of Tommy's neck, a rough squeeze.. "I know."

—

The next message is the beginning of the end of it all. Tommy's actually had a - not terrible day. He flew four times, the sky was perfect, the calls went well. They had really good tacos for lunch at the station. 

The message is waiting for him when he gets home. Evan sounds - subdued.

"Hey, Tommy. Listen, I'm gonna - I'm gonna stop calling. I'm - you hurt me. You really, really hurt me. But I think I might be hurting you too, still, and I hate that, even if I'm mad at you. I'm really mad at you, and I think - I think I'm just gonna stay mad at you unless something changes. So I'd - I'd like to see you. Talk. Say - some things. Say goodbye. It's okay if you don't want to. But I'd like to. Let me know if you wanna. And if not, then, I don't know. Bye, I guess."

Bye, I guess. 

Tommy hesitates for less time than he'd like to admit. Maybe he can just ignore this one like he has all the others (is ignore the right word if they have become the constant background soundtrack to his waking hours and woven themselves into his dreams?) and Evan will be as good as his word - stop calling, stay mad, hate Tommy, but move on from him.

But it's Evan, and he's asking for something from Tommy, and the one and only time Tommy turned him down for something he really wanted, he hurt them both so bad. The least he owes Evan - the very least - is closure. And if it drives the shards of heartbreak deeper into Tommy then, hey, whatever, he's pretty sure those shards are a feature not a bug, by this point.

He navigates to their message thread, carefully doesn't look at the most recent communications - a silly joke, a heart, a can't wait to see you - and tries to find the words to reply.

—

It's not somewhere they've ever been before, and Tommy feels like that was probably deliberate on Evan's part. Still, the scene is so familiar it makes Tommy's steps falter. Evan, at a table in the sunshine, two coffee cups in front of him. He looks beautiful. He looks nervous. He looks tired. He's chosen a table away from any of the other patrons.

Part of Tommy wants to run. The rest of him knows he owes Evan the bravery he couldn't give him all those months ago, and he approaches the table, hands in his pockets.

Evan looks up, smiles like it's a reflex, but it falls away from his face like he's remembered he's mad at Tommy.

"Thanks for coming."

Tommy shrugs. "Of course."

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 2)

More flirting from Agatha the morning after and then the much anticipated Halloween party starts...

Word count: 2500

Warnings: allusions to smut

The sunlight streaming in through the windows wakes you up and you stretch with a groan. It takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings and heat floods your face at the memory of Agatha last night. 

You really need to get a hold of yourself. 

You brush your teeth and head downstairs. The door to Nicky’s room is shut, which doesn’t surprise you. You cannot sleep past eight, meanwhile, he can easily sleep until noon if he isn’t interrupted. 

Agatha is down in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooks eggs on the stove. 

“Good morning,” you say quietly so you don’t startle her. She turns around, eyes raking up and down your body, still clad in the nightie she gave you last night. The older woman’s hair is messy and she wears a black robe with flower designs, still managing to look hot as fuck. The robe has a low V-neck and you have to make an active effort not to stare.

“Hey, sweetheart. My clothes look good on you,” she says with a smirk. You have to bite back a comment about how they’d look even better on her floor. “How’d you sleep?” 

She turns back to the stove, but has her head tilted toward you so you can tell she’s still listening. 

“I slept great,” you answer honestly. “The bed is so comfortable I might just move in.” 

She gives you a heated glance. “I’d be more than okay with that.” 

You swallow hard. “Thanks for having me over for dinner and for letting me spend the night. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, dear. You’re always welcome,” she says warmly. “What time do you have to leave for work?”

You glance at the clock. Your shift starts at 9:30 am and it’s currently 8:15. It’s a twenty minute drive from their house. “Around 9 or so.” 

She hums and scoops some eggs onto a plate and hands it to you. They’re scrambled, your favorite. She retrieves a fork and gives that to you as well, your hands slightly brushing. 

“Thank you so much,” you say and sit on a stool at the island so you can watch her. She makes herself a plate and stands on the other side by the sink so you’re facing each other. 

“So, you’re dressing up as a witch for Halloween,” she starts. You blink, and then recall that you had mentioned that last night. “Why a witch?”

“I don’t know. I’m really into witchcraft and all that, plus they’re a staple of Halloween. I just think their history is really fascinating and there’s all different kinds of representation of witches in the media. I also just like the costumes,” you hastily add, not wanting to bore her with your nerdy thoughts. But Agatha is hanging on to every word, nodding in agreement.

“I’m glad Nicky has a friend as smart as you. And I’m sure you’ll look great in a witch’s costume,” she says with a wink. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She looks positively delighted that you’re playing along and internally you are proud of yourself. If she’s going to flirt with you, maybe you can have some fun back. “Are you dressing up for your party?”

She laughs at that. “Dear, I think I’m a little too old for that. No one wants to see a forty-five year old woman dressed as Snow White.” 

You bite your lip. It’s got to be a crime to be this turned on by how old she is. “Maybe not a princess. You could be a witch. Or maybe a cowboy or something.” Images of her wearing a slutty Halloween costume flitter across your mind and you work hard to push them out. 

“Maybe you can pick me something out. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.”

You obey. You’d do anything she says, you think. She also picks up her fork and is bringing the egg to her open mouth (not that you’re staring or anything) when a piece of egg falls off and falls right into the open V of her chest. 

“Whoops,” she says innocently. She cranes her neck to look down and swipe the egg up with her finger and then sucks the finger into her mouth. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

You stammer out an apology, blushing harder than ever, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The last thing you want to do is make her uncomfortable in her own home, but she seems to be enjoying the effect she has on you.

“I don’t mind, dear. It’s always nice to get some attention.”Oh, come on. She has to be flirting with you now. “Ever since Nicky’s father left…” She trails off. 

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely, because you don’t know what else to say. You don’t know the story of what happened and you don’t want to make Agatha feel like she has to talk about it. But if she thinks that no one would pay her attention when she looks like that, she is wrong. 

She gives you a soft smile and then brightens up. “It was for the best. I realized that I wanted something different than he could offer. He was a safe option, but I was tired of that. I wanted something new.” Her eyes burn into you as they travel down to your chest. 

Is she saying what you think she’s saying?

You look down at yourself just to make sure you didn’t accidentally spill anything and you see your nipples poking through the silky material of Agatha’s nightie. Oh. You look back up and she finally tears her eyes away and looks at you. 

“Who’s staring now?” you say before you even have a chance to think about it. Her grin is wolfish and her stare is unapologetic. She shrugs. 

“I’m just admiring how good my clothes look on you. Why don’t you keep it? Any woman who gets the pleasure of seeing you in it is a lucky one,” she says. 

“Oh, I couldn’t–” Is she counting herself lucky? Or is she just being nice?

“I insist.”

“Thank you.” And now you need to get out of here before you explode. You shovel the rest of the eggs into your mouth, stand up, and go to the sink to wash off your plate. 

You’ve just turned the water on when, all of a sudden, her warm body presses against you. Your brain short-circuits and you freeze. Her arm reaches around and shuts the water off and she pries the plate from your hand. 

“Let me,” she whispers right in your ear. You shiver and you turn around. Her face is three inches from yours, her body just a hair away. You can feel her hot breath on your face and you can’t help yourself from looking down at her lips. 

Her tongue darts out and licks her lips and oh god, you are going to kiss her. 

You look back up and meet her hooded blue eyes. Neither of you move, and you’re just about to say fuck it and lean in when you hear a noise from upstairs. 

Nicky. He must be awake. 

Agatha smirks and steps back, putting some space between you and you finally feel like you can breathe. 

“I should probably get going. I think I’ll run by my house and change my clothes,” you tell her, heart going a hundred miles an hour. 

“Good plan,” she says, not taking her eyes off you. “I’ll see you on Halloween.”

You give her a tight smile. “Tell Nicky I’ll see him Monday?” She nods and you quickly leave her house. Once in your car, you run a hand through your hair and inhale and exhale slowly. 

Holy shit. 

***

The next few days pass quickly. Your Halloween costume comes in and you don’t remember it being this tight or short when you ordered it. The black long-sleeve crop top accentuates your breasts and the dark purple miniskirt barely covers your ass. The purple hat is really the only thing that looks like it belongs to a witch. 

You don’t care, though. If anything, you can’t wait to see Agatha’s reaction to it, assuming the looks and the touches and everything else from her last week wasn’t just a fluke. 

A text from Nicky buzzes on your phone, saying that you can come over whenever for the party. It’s supposed to start at 8 pm. It’s an hour and a half before, so you text him back that you’ll get ready and then come over. 

You curl your hair and the black smokey eye makeup makes your eyes pop. You finish off with a cherry red lipstick. You put your costume on, topping it off with a pair of knee high black boots. 

You have to admit, you look hot and your stomach warms at the thought of Agatha seeing you like this. 

You arrive at their house at 7:45. You see no other cars in their driveway, but you figure it’s early and you’re best friends with Nicky anyways, so who cares. 

The doorbell rings and it almost immediately swings open. Nicky stands there, black vest, black-and-red striped pants, a sword hanging from his belt, and a pirate hat on his head. He whistles at you. 

“Damn, you look good,” he says, stepping over so you have room to come in. 

“I’m glad you found a costume in time,” you remark, laughing as his fake sword gets in the way. 

“Mom would’ve had my head on a spike if I didn’t,” he replies solemnly. “Come on, we’re almost done setting up. You can help me spike the punch.”

You follow him into the kitchen and are taken aback by how decorated it is. The lights are dim and it looks like cobwebs are covering the countertops. Fog is rolling in from somewhere. Fake spiders and bones are strategically placed around the kitchen. There’s donut holes decorated to look like eyeballs, the punch is bright green and in a cauldron, there’s candy. 

It’s going to be an awesome party. 

“Nicky, can you grab the tape from the drawer,” Agatha yells from somewhere else, not in the kitchen. Your friend springs into action and leaves you alone in the kitchen. 

You slowly walk around the island, tracing a finger along the cobwebs. You pick up an eyeball-donut and pop it into your mouth. It’s good. You can tell how much thought Agatha and Nicky have put into setting up for the party and you love it. 

“Where did you say it was?” you hear Agatha say, you’re guessing to Nicky, her voice growing louder. You spin around just in time for her to enter the kitchen, stopping in her tracks the moment she sees you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, covering your mouth as you finish chewing on the donut. Her mouth settles into a smirk as her eyes trace you up and down. 

“Quite the getup, sweetheart,” she says in a low voice. 

You blush and then notice what she’s wearing. Maroon leather pants and a long black vest that doesn’t touch in the middle, leaving a strip of skin all the way down from her neck to her wide belt. A headband is wrapped around her head, bunching the hair at the top. 

“Look at you,” you say breathlessly. You want nothing more than to run your tongue down her bare chest and listen to her moan. 

“I decided to dress up after all. Now, would you be a dear and hand me the scissors from the bottom drawer to the left of the fridge?” 

You nod and it’s as you're bending down that you remember how short your skirt is and you realize that Agatha can probably see the lacy purple underwear you’re wearing (just for her). You swear you hear her breath hitch and suddenly you feel her presence right behind you. 

Her warm hand touches your lower back and you fight the urge to gasp. 

“Did you find it?” she murmurs. She leans over you and her hand slides down you, almost reaching your ass. Fuck. 

“Yep!” you almost squeal and jump up. You hand her the scissors and she deliberately puts her hand over yours to grab them. 

There’s no way this is in your head. Agatha is either playing some cruel joke on you, or she actually wants you. 

And you’re praying to god that it’s the second one. 

***

Thirty minutes later, the party is in full-swing. It seems to you that the entire neighborhood must be here. People in costumes fill the kitchen and the surrounding halls and you push through the crowds to find your way back to the punch. You’re not sure what’s all in it, but it’s addicting. Nicky and you had poured an entire bottle of vodka in it, much to Agatha’s chagrin, but almost every partygoer you saw was drinking it. 

You scoop yourself another cup and lean back on the island, slowly sipping it, just watching everybody at the party. An older man dressed as a police officer comes over to you, obviously drunk from the way he’s moving. 

“What’s a pretty young thing doing at this party all alone?” he slurs, the smell of vodka and maybe something else hitting your face. You wince. 

“I’m not alone, I’m about to go find my friend,” you say loudly over the music and stand up straight so you can leave. 

He grabs your wrist. You feel a spike of fear flash through you, but in an instant, you feel a protective arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn your head, figuring it’s Nicky, but instead, it’s his mother. 

“Herb, get out of here,” she says harshly and steers you away. Her arm doesn’t leave your shoulders and her hand has started stroking your bicep. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thank you for that. He was just a little drunk,” you say, not quite sure why she���s leading you up the stairs. 

“That doesn’t excuse it,” she says, a tight expression on her face. She takes you into her room and motions for you to sit on her bed. She sits next to you. 

You don’t know what’s happening, but you’re in Agatha’s room with Agatha, so you’re not complaining. “Well, luckily I had my knight in shining armor to protect me,” you say, nudging her shoulder with your own. 

She smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You look really nice,” she says. “Super witchy.” 

You laugh at that. “I didn’t realize I ordered the slutty witch costume. Must’ve accidentally ordered it a few sizes too small.”

“I’m glad you did,” she flirts, her eyes obviously dropping down to your cleavage. 

“Agatha…” you whisper, not sure where you’re going with it. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong. She’s your best friend’s mother. She’s twenty-five years older than you. There’s no way she’d want someone this young, this inexperienced. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she whispers back, looking back up at you. 

Your brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say. But what can you say?

So you just lean forward and press your lips to hers. 

[mulloey]

perks of the job • mingi & yunho

mingi likes to share

warnings: boyfriend mingi, mingi’s friend threesome, kind of dp (pussy and mouth), dom yunho and mingi but yunho is more dominant, sucking off mingi so good he starts seeing god, mild pet play (yunho makes you crawl), mild praise & degredation, slapping, mentioned punishment, canon massive dick yunho, brief mirror sex, mingi is kind of a cuck,, he’s not a sub but he very much gets off on watching you being used by his buddy, implied manwhore yunho who likes fucking his members’ girlfriends

—————

“I have an idea.”

You look up from your phone to see your boyfriend standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. You didn’t even know he was awake; you’d left him to sleep when you got up this morning, knowing he’d be tired after staying up all night recording. You can see he’s still half-asleep, eyelids drooping slightly and that dazed expression he has when he’s sleepy still written on his face.

“Morning, Mingi,” you smile. “What’s your idea?”

He clears his throat, shifting on his feet and you frown. He seems nervous about this idea — nervous to share it at least. After months together he rarely even hesitates to share anything with you, so to see him like this has your curiosity piqued. “What is it?” You repeat.

“Um…” he starts. “I think Yunho should fuck you. With me. Together.”

You baulk slightly. You hadn’t expected that to be the idea. You’d talked about the idea of multiples before, but it was casually, and you’d never named names. You definitely hadn’t named his own members and best friends. “Oh.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Mingi says quickly, clearly worried he’s upset or offended you. “It’s just a thought I had.”

You smile and shake your head, reassuring him. “No, I’m definitely… open to it. But why Yunho?”

He smiles and shrugs, coming to sit next to you on the couch. “I lived with him for years,” he says. “He’s into that kind of thing. And he’s into you.”

You can’t pretend you haven’t noticed the last part. Whenever you saw the other members you’d notice his gaze lingering on you, his eyes hovering over your lips, tits and ass; probably without him realising though, because he’s always been exceptionally polite and respectful to you. But the first part is new. “That kind of thing?” You ask.

He nods. “Yeah, he likes being the ‘third’ or whatever. It gets him off in a weird way. He did it with San’s ex all the time.”

Huh. This is new information to you, but knowing Yunho decently well, it’s not surprising. “He fucked San’s ex?”

“Yep,” Mingi says. “Well, they fucked her together. He loved it. I think he was more upset when they broke up than San was.”

You laugh a little, but your brain is already filled with images of Yunho doing… that to you. Fucking you with Mingi, taking you to new heights and using you for his own pleasure at the same time. You can’t say you’ve never thought about him like that; he’s so tall and large and attractive that you can’t help but wonder what he’d be like. Would he be rough? Sensual? Would he take control, calling the shots over you and Mingi or would he let Mingi tell him what to do, how to fuck you?

Now that it’s on the table, you know you need to find out.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You ask.

“Only hypothetically,” Mingi says quickly. “I’d never offer you up like that. I just asked if he thought it’d be fun in theory.”

“And?”

Mingi’s lip quirks. “He said he’d love to.”

—————

Once you agree it’s arranged quickly. Mingi broaches the topic when he sees Yunho at work the next day and Yunho apparently agrees before he can even finish asking the question. You meet Yunho for coffee a few times with Mingi and find that he’s extremely easy to talk to about this. You also find that, now that he knows it’s acceptable, his leering at you is even more blatant. Once you watch as his gaze stays fixed on your tits for 3 entire minutes. It’s strangely thrilling to be looked at like that. You can’t wait until he can finally get his hands on them — and neither, of course, can he.

It finally happens a few days later, in the apartment you share with Mingi. You wake up early that morning, excitement making it too hard to sleep, and take an hour or two to prepare yourself in the shower, shaving and exfoliating every inch of your body. Not that you don’t make an effort to look good for Mingi like this, but this is a special occasion and you want to make a good impression.

Yunho arrives at 7pm on the dot, and the sound of the doorbell has never been so terrifying. Mingi smiles reassuringly before he goes to answer, leaving you waiting on the couch. The sound of voices as Yunho enters the house sets your heart racing. You hear their casual greetings and laughter and stand to greet your guest as he enters the living room. When he sets his eyes on you for the first time he seems to freeze slightly — just as you planned. The tiny white dress you’re wearing shows off your curves perfectly, flattering you from every angle. He takes a moment to digest the heavenly sight in front of him before he greets you with a charming smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say shyly.

“Are you nervous?” Yunho asks.

You nod, a little embarrassed and he chuckles. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m very experienced with this. I’ll take good care of you, honey.”

Mingi smiles at him before approaching you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulder. You instinctively hide your face in his chest and he tuts, gently pushing you off. “Be polite to our guest, baby,” he chides. You blush deeply but nod and he strokes your cheek. “Good girl.”

You smile shyly at your boyfriend. You can see he’s nervous too, a slightly unsure look on his face, but it’s far outweighed by the excitement evident in his eyes. He smiles reassuringly at you, pressing a kiss to your lips before beckoning Yunho over. Yunho greets you with a hug, just like normal, but you know there’s something much, much deeper behind it this time.

“How does this work?” You ask. “Do we just start?”

Yunho smiles. “It’s up to you,” he says. “We could get right to it, or we could hang out for a while. Watch a movie together or something.”

“Just a normal movie?”

Yunho chuckles, recognising the implication. “Yes, of course. Anything you like. But I can’t promise I won’t start feeling you up if you’re sitting next to me.”

You shrug, hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “That would be fine,” you say quietly and he grins. “But I’d rather just start now.”

Both men chuckle and Yunho pets your hair. It’s not the first time he’s done it to you, he’s always been quite physical (but respectful) whenever he sees you, but it is the first time it’s had quite this effect on you. It doesn’t feel like a gesture from an affectionate friend anymore, but rather, a gentle, teasing touch from someone who’s planning on doing a whole lot more.

Yunho notices your reaction, maybe because it wasn’t as subtle as you thought, and laughs. “You’re so sensitive to me, aren’t you?” He says. “Have you wanted this for as long as I have?”

“Oh, she has,” Mingi answers for you. “She’s had a thing for you since you met, haven’t you baby? She thinks she’s hidden it well but I always knew.”

You throw him a glare but he just smiles innocently, tilting his head teasingly. “Just telling the truth,” he giggles.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Yunho tells you. “You can’t help how you feel, can you?”

You shrug, shaking your head. “I guess not.”

Yunho smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’ve always known you think with your pussy. Little sluts like you always do.”

Your breath hitches and you feel his words deep in your stomach. In your discussions about tonight, Yunho had asked you about the kind of things you enjoyed in the bedroom, and without waiting for you to answer Mingi had gleefully told him how much you enjoyed being talked down to. You’d blushed deeply but while Yunho had laughingly told him to let you speak for yourself, you’d seen the dark gleam that briefly crossed his eyes as he took note of it. You guess he likes it too.

“What do you think?” Yunho asks. His voice is getting lower and more strained each time he speaks and you feel the energy and tension emanating off of him. “Are you a slut?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “I’m a slut, Yunho.”

He smiles and takes your flushed cheeks in his hands, forcing your eyes onto him. You feel the way his massive hands dwarf your face and it sends shivers down your spine. He could really do anything he wants to you right now. “Then you’ll do what I say, right?” He asks. “Since you’re such a slut.”

You nod almost deliriously, desperate to please him. Yunho smiles at the sight and you hear Mingi laugh next to you. “Such a cutie you have, Mingi,” Yunho tells your boyfriend. “I’d be so jealous if she wasn’t offering herself up like a whore for me anyway.”

Your gaze shifts to your boyfriend, gauging his reaction. He’s fiercely protective of you, sometimes a little too sensitive to the jokes even his best friends make, so you wonder if he’s bothered by Yunho talking about you like this; even if he’d told him it’d be okay, it might be different in reality, hearing his precious, darling girl degraded and objectified like this. But it’s clearly not — your boyfriend is rock hard, dick straining against his pants from hearing you spoken about in such a demeaning way. It makes you even wetter than you already are.

“Shall we take her to our room, Yunho?” Mingi asks.

Yunho nods. He’s been to your house a few times since you’d moved in so he knows the way, but he gestures for Mingi to lead. Your boyfriend motions for you to follow him but Yunho stops you, sticking an arm out in front of you to stop you in your tracks. “Wait,” he says. You stare up at him confusedly and Mingi turns to face him, unsure.

“She can crawl,” Yunho says.

Mingi nods, slight smirk on his lips as he motions for you to get down. “You heard the man,” he grins. “On your fours, baby.”

You feel your breathing falter slightly, unsure of yourself as you lower yourself to your knees. As you start to crawl you feel the burn of hardwood floor against your bare knees but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on than right now, crawling through your own apartment with the looming presence of two large men walking closely behind you. You feel almost like stalked prey, pursued by two larger, stronger, hungry predators preparing to strike.

Reaching the door of your shared bedroom, Yunho holds it open for you, allowing you to crawl through onto the — mercifully — soft carpets of your room.

The two men settle side by side on the bed, staring down at you with dark, piercing gazes.

“We’re gonna use you tonight,” Yunho says after a few seconds, breaking the tension-filled silence. “You’re gonna show us what a good fuck toy you can be, yeah?”

You nod, blushing slightly and Mingi smiles. “I think she should suck us off first,” he tells Yunho.

“Good idea,” Yunho nods. “Suck Mingi’s dick first, baby,” he says. “Show me how you please him.”

You nod your understanding, watching as Mingi pulls his length out and motions you closer. You crawl towards where he’s sat at the edge of the bed and sit back up on your haunches. Mingi smiles kindly at you, miming a kiss which you return. He lets you take his cock in his hands first, rubbing the length up and down a few times before taking it into your mouth. Just like Yunho, your boyfriend is massive, and he shows no mercy as he slams his cock against the back of your throat again and again, letting you choke helplessly on it. He places a hand on your head, tangling it in your hair so he can keep you in place more easily while the other holds your hand where it desperately grips his thigh. You pleasure him just like you’ve practised, moving between deepthroating, sucking and licking according to the commands of the men above you.

“Choke on it again,” Yunho orders. Through teary eyes you look up to see his gaze fixed on you, mouth parted in awe slightly while he slowly palms himself through his pants.

You do what he says, forcing Mingi’s cock to the back of your throat until you gag, pulling your head off of it. Mingi gives you a split second of respite before he yanks your head towards him, forcing his cock down your throat again. He repeats it over and over — choke, recover, choke — until he gets too worked up, so desperate he can’t bear to not have you choking on him for even a second, and holds your head firmly in place, not allowing you to move back and breathe even for a moment. He knows what you can take and how far he can push you, and he’s going to.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You sound so good, baby. Feel so good too. You wanna give Yunho a turn?”

You whine, muffled by his cock as you nod desperately and they chuckle. Mingi gently pulls his cock out of his mouth, slapping it against your cheek a few times before nodding at Yunho. At Mingi’s cue Yunho grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you towards him. “I'm a little bigger than Mingi,” he warns. “But I think you can handle it. Do you, Mingi?”

“She definitely can,” your boyfriend affirms. “She’s so talented.”

Yunho laughs softly before finally pulling out his cock and fuck, he was right. It’s not just long, but one of the thickest and prettiest cocks you’ve ever seen. You feel your eyes water again at the sight and you gulp, staring up at Yunho’s smirking face. His face softens seeing your anxiety and he smiles, reaching a hand to stroke your cheek and letting you briefly nuzzle into it.

“Don’t be scared,” he says. “I’m right here. So’s Mingi.”

You nod, pulling yourself together before inching your head towards Yunho’s cock. You look up at him again, silently asking for permission which he grants with a nod before you take him into his mouth.

You start with the head, holding the shaft in your hand and licking experimentally at the tip. It tastes good, clean, so you quickly let yourself take the rest of it into your mouth. You bob up and down on it, loosening your throat up to take it deeper. His grip in your hair tightens as you go further, strangled groans released when you hit a particularly good spot. Determined to get the whole thing in your throat, you lift yourself up off your knees slightly and he takes the opportunity to reach his hand around to harshly slap your thinly covered ass. You scream around his cock, causing him to moan louder. “Fuck, Mingi, where’d you find her?” He groans. “She’s so fucking good at this.”

Mingi laughs, reaching to stroke the back of your head gently. “I got lucky, didn’t I?”

“I’ll fucking say,” Yunho gasps and you giggle slightly. He moans, yanking your hair forwards to force you further down his cock again. “Feels so fucking good when you do that baby. Make these pretty noises with my big dick in your mouth.”

You work for a few more minutes, and you can feel his orgasm coming before he abruptly pulls out. Hee stands, wobbling slightly which makes you proud, and points to the bed. “Up here,” he orders. “All fours.”

You manage to pull yourself up despite the slight dizziness from the way you’ve just been used and settle yourself where he points, lying on your front with your ass sticking up. Mingi leans to reach your head, gently stroking your hair as he whispers, “you’re doing so well, baby.” You smile softly at him, leaning to kiss him which he allows, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to your swollen lips. “Good girl,” he says, before standing up to join his friend.

From this position, you only just notice, you have a perfect view of yourself in a mirror, and of the two men looming behind you. You don’t remember buying this, and definitely don’t remember putting it here, but fuck if it isn’t a stroke of genius. You gulp, looking up to Yunho’s reflection in the mirror. His brows are furrowed as he stares your body up and down like he’s inspecting it, and he offers a brief smile while he notices you staring.

“Like the mirror, baby?” He asks. “I had Mingi buy it and move it here this morning. Wanted to surprise you.”

You make a noise of appreciation and he smiles. He bends over slightly, leaning over you until his head is right next to yours. He keeps his eyes on the mirror, making eye contact with your reflection as he speaks. “Ready to see how pretty you look when I fuck you? When we fuck you?”

You whine, feeling his words in your stomach and he grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek before straightening back up. You feel two pairs of hands on your, running up and down every inch of your body like they’re claiming ownership, before Yunho quickly flips up your flimsy dress to reveal your ass.

“No panties,” he whistles. “Good slut.”

With one hand pressing down on your back to hold you in place, the other runs over your ass carefully before winding back and delivering a hard slap. It’s hard and strong, making your ears ring briefly and you cry out softly, burning your head in the pillow. Another hand hits you, and you recognise the soothing touches that come after as Mingi — whenever your boyfriend spanks you, he likes to rub circles on the spot he’d struck to massage in the pain. You don’t know if he even knows he does it, but it’s a sweet quirk that reminds you that your loving, adoring boyfriend is still here. “Don’t hide your face, baby,” he says. “That’s why we put the mirror there. We want to see your pretty reactions at all times.”

You nod, lifting your head up and whispering an apology. The men smile, each stroking one of your ass cheeks soothingly. “Good girl,” Yunho says. “I don’t want to have to punish you when we’re having so much fun.”

Your mouth opens wordlessly and you stare at Yunho, confused, scared and turned on. “P…punish?” You ask quietly.

Yunho smiles, chuckling softly as he gently pats the red mark on your ass where he’d struck you. “I guess we never talked about that, did we? I like the girls I fuck to be obedient, and I’m willing to make sure they are myself.”

“With permission, of course,” Mingi quickly interjects before you can worry.

“Of course,” Yunho agrees. “I’ve never punished anyone who wasn’t begging me to correct their behaviour.”

“Oh,” you say. Your brain is brimming now with thoughts of Yunho punishing you. You wonder what he’d do; maybe he’d go the classic route and spank you to tears. Or maybe he’d force orgasm after orgasm out of you like he’d told you he likes to do, or not let you come at all. As much as you want to find out what he’d do, to hear him call you bad girl and tell you how you deserve to be punished, you can push those buttons another time. For now, all you can think about is that massive dick finally fucking you. “I’ll be good,” you whisper.

Yunho hums. You feel his hand move from your ass down to your naked pussy. His touches against it are feather-light, barely noticeable if they weren’t in such a sensitive place and from someone you’re so desperate for. His other hand, still on your back, presses down further as you start to squirm. “Remember what I said, baby,” he says as he presses a finger into you. “Be good and stay still.”

You nod, but as he adds a second and third finger you cry out and instinctively reach your arms back to touch him. He tuts, grabbing your arms and holding them down easily against your back with one hand. “I said stay still,” he chides. “Last warning, baby.”

You nod, whispering an apology which he accepts with a nod. The whole time Mingi’s been watching you, slowly stroking his cock as the sight of his girlfriend being used by his friend. Yunho notices and throws the other man a smile. “Why don’t you go fuck her mouth, Mingi?” He suggests. “Seems filling up one hole isn’t enough to keep her obedient.”

“Good idea,” Mingi smirks. He rounds the bed to stand in front of you, feeding his twitching cock into your mouth. He turns around, seeing your view of yourself blocked and grins. “So much for the mirror,” he laughs.

“Mm, so much for the mirror,” Yunho agrees. “Next time I’ll punish her for moving so much that we have to block it. But right now I just wanna fuck her.”

Mingi starts to thrust lazily into your mouth, gripping your hair like he did before. It feels incredible but you can barely focus on it. You’re desperate for Yunho now. Yunho pulls his fingers out, pushing your dress back a little further. “Hold her arms for me, Mingi,” he says. “I want all the leverage I can get.”

Mingi nods and reaches his hands forwards to hold your arms down against your back where they’d been before. Without a hand in your hair to force you down on him himself, he speed ups his thrusts, getting stronger and more merciless. You take it diligently, choking and spitting on it like the good girl you are.

When Yunho’s cock finally starts pushing into you, you falter slightly, involuntarily jolting forward into Mingi and forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. It doesn’t last long before Yunho grabs your hips, yanking you back into him. He looked big and felt bigger in your mouth but this is something else entirely. It feels like having your virginity taken all over again, tiny hole stretched by an impossibly big and merciless dick. When he finally gets all the way in your scream around Mingi’s cock. You start to thrash but their grip on you is iron, holding you in place and completely at their mercy.

Yunho gives you a few seconds before he starts to move, slowly at first then faster and faster until he’s fucking into you relentlessly. You feel completely powerless, used in two holes and held down by strong hands who want nothing but to use you for their pleasure.

The entire bed is shaking from Yunho’s hard pounds and Mingi’s relentless thrusts in your mouth. While he fucks you Yunho delivers endless slaps to your ass and thighs and you’re sure your skin will be red and burning by the time he’s done with you. They’re both talking to you but you can barely hear them. All you can focus on is the feeling of being fucked without mercy by two of the largest cocks you’ve ever seen. You’re screaming without a break now, throat hoarse but you love it, you could live off this feeling for the rest of your life.

Mingi comes first; he’s always extra sensitive to your mouth. He’s not fast by any means but something about the way you suck him, the way you let him abuse your throat without a break, makes it hard for him to control himself. His load is massive, even bigger than usual, but you swallow every drop just like you’re ordered to. He keeps his cock, now soft, in your mouth, letting you suck at it for comfort while Yunho practically splits you open. With the way you’re screaming his cock also serves as a gag, keeping you marginally quieter so as to avoid any complaints from neighbours. The thought of it, having a soft cock in your mouth to gag your screams while another man fucks you, is so hot it brings you closer to your own climax.

Yunho lasts a little longer but you feel his orgasm coming, building up as his thrusts get harder and faster and his moans get louder until he’s yelling. With a final shout he releases inside you, thrusting a few times to empty himself completely. While he does so he reaches to rub your clit, wet fingers making it even more sensitive. When your orgasm finally hits, stronger and more overwhelming than ever before, he talks you through it but you’re so far out of it that you can’t quite decipher what he’s saying.

When he finally pulls out, releasing his iron grip on your hips, you collapse instantly, utterly exhausted. Mingi quickly takes you into his arms, holding your head against his chest and stroking your sweat-soaked hair. Yunho sits beside you, rubbing your legs and pressing soft kisses all over your body.

“You did so well,” Yunho says. “That was the most fun I’ve had doing this.”

You sniffle slightly and stare up at him. The dark, feral gleam in his eye is gone and his face is back to the kind, considerate Yunho you’ve known for a while. “Really?” You ask.

He chuckles, nodding slightly. “Really,” he confirms. “If you both want it, I’d love to do this again. Make it a regular thing, even. You’re too good to just leave it at this.”

You giggle, blushing slightly and your boyfriend laughs, staring down at you fondly. You feel the vibrations of the laughter in his chest and it comforts you. You sigh happily, nuzzling into him as he caresses you, gently soothing you down from your high.

“Should I go get some snacks for her?” Yunho asks.

Mingi hums, nodding. “There’s some fruit on the table you can cut up for her. She’ll need some water too.”

Yunho nods. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek before getting up and walking out, softly closing the door behind him. Mingi lifts your chin to press a soft, loving kiss to your lips. “My beautiful baby,” he smiles.

You smile back, your heart warm. “My Mingi.”

By the time Yunho returns you’ve fallen asleep in Mingi’s arms, lulled to sleep by his soft praises as he rocked you. Telling Mingi to make sure you eat it once you’re up, Yunho places the fruit on the nightstand and kisses your hand one last time before leaving.

When you check your phone a few hours later, once you’re fully down from your high, you see a new message lighting up your screen.

yunho: Good girl.

—————

hope you liked this! this is the longest smut ive written so far so please let me know your thoughts on it as i’ve put quite a bit of time into making it hot for u. so tell me what you think!! i get very motivated to write more when i get feedback or comments:) i’m getting to other requests now and the request box is still OPEN!! love🖤🖤

[shawnxstyles]

panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13

crossed out= not able to tag

[azsazz]

Evening Roost

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week Day 1: Cassian x Reader [Nesting]

Summary: This was supposed to be for omegaverse x acotar day 1 but now it just is. Prompt was: Surely there’s a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they’re feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows…. right?

Anon Req: for omegaverse day 1, I could so see reader spending AGES every year to make a nest, only for cassian to destroy it within like two minutes every heat cycle bc he's too distracted by his mate and excited to pay attention to little things like that ... and one year reader gets mad and is like "you're not f*cking me in here until you're not a threat to its structural integrity" and cassian is very regretful & apologizes & makes it up to her by making her cum until she can't think straight ...? (if you don't like this prompt feel free to ignore it this was just an idea ... also I'm a big fan of your work & I'm excited you're writing more!!) 🩷🩷

And also fulfills anon reqs : Not sure if you’re taking requests but could you write an omega/alpha fic with Cassian where reader is in heat? Love your writing! —and—Heyyyy! Once your requests might be free, can you do a Omegaverse heat fic but with Cassian, something with both angst and some spicy smut?

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2640

_________________________________________

“And…perfect,” you sigh, smiling contently to yourself as you shift the last pillow into place. Sitting back on your haunches, you admire the nest you spent the entirety of the week building, piled high and far away from where anyone can see it. Or touch it. 

Namely, your mate.

Yes, Cassian is everything you want in an alpha and more: muscle upon muscle that he uses unabashedly to carry you around, to throw you over his shoulder when you’re pouting and grumbling when you should really be riding his cock. Or when he smacks your ass with that rough, calloused hand of his, the one you’d like stuck right between your legs right now.

You shift, biting your lip as you rub your thighs together, eliciting a sensation you know all too well, a flood of warmth pooling deeply between them.

Your heat has been building for a few days now, as if waiting for the perfect moment to appear. Your body must have sensed that Cassian’s rut was on its way as well, forcing your body to respond to your alpha’s scent. You’ve been feeling the familiar discomfort of your oncoming cycle, irritable to anyone who wasn’t Cassian, sensitive to sounds and smells, especially blood, and feeling like your body is always just a little bit too hot. 

Which is why you’ve been patiently awaiting the other paw to drop, busying yourself by building the perfect nest. It has taken careful meandering and pawning of objects from throughout your home: a cord of leather that Cassian had taken out of his damp hair before climbing into the tub with you last night, the worn scabbard of one of his knives, a day old shirt that hadn’t been used for sparring, and another one that had.

In the corner of your closet, you sit, burrowing deeply into the fabrics and reveling in the scents of your mate. The mead he drank until he was dizzy still lingers from where he’d sweat it out the night after. The lingering scent of his soap, brash and heady and all male. The faint tinge of your juices from where they’d gotten on the sheets, the ones you hadn’t allowed anyone to clean, to touch when he fucked you into them two nights prior.

It feels like a secret, you think as you smile into the dark. All the way at the back of the expansive closet, nestled between hanging clothes and boots, nestled beside training boots and hidden weapons should you ever need them. It’s the perfect place, the perfect size for someone like you, an omega blissfully waiting for her alpha to fall into the throes of his rut.

“Little omega,” Cassian sing-songs. You hear the door to your bedroom opening and closing with a quick snap and your anticipation spikes. The heat between your thighs grows as your body goes hot. There’s a keen alertness to his voice that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, your cunt drench with need.

His rut is here.

“Where are you?” He wonders aloud, and a bolt of thrill zips up your spine at the thought of this game you have the chance to play. Hunter and prey. How he’s going to sniff you out like the depraved man he is, capture you and bend you over this pile of goods to take you long and hard and hot, just the way you both need. You know that within minutes you’ll be succumbing to the full effects of your heat, your body attuned so beautifully to his rut.

You eagerly await your mate's arrival.

You can hear it the moment he catches a whiff of your scent. The low growl has you clenching your thighs, sending your heartbeat galloping. What follows is what makes you want to moan, to give your spot away to him, to bare yourself to your alpha and have him claim you over and over and over again.

The bite mark on your throat pulses as the sound of his belt hits the floor, his weapons soon following. The dull thud of their sheaths are each a throb to your clit. You don’t need to imagine how perfect his body moves as he prowls closer to the door, already knowing that each muscle of his is coiled tight with the same anticipation you’re feeling. It zips down the bond, flooding your body with a pleasurable feeling. 

The closet door cracks wider and you only get a glimpse of those hazel eyes—all pupils with the untamed actions of a rut—before he lunges inside.

It’s tight with the both of you in here. Cassian’s fingers claw at your clothes, and it’s not a tear that can be sewed up like new to be worn another day. No, this is Cassian shredding your clothes into strips, buttons flying off of fabric and clicking against the walls. It’s the delicate lace of your panties he tears off with his teeth, wrapping the remnants around his wrist like he’s won himself a new bracelet. You love that he’s so desperate for you, but he’s being careless, dislodging items in your nest that were perfectly built while he scrambles to expose your body, more than ready to ravage you for this week-long cycle. 

You cry out at the feeling of Cassian’s sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder when you try to shove him off. You’re all too aware of how he’s displacing your pristine nest, the one you hadn’t hardly wanted him in in the first place because of this very reason.

He always destroys it.

“Cassian!” You shout, and only then does it seem to cut through the haze he’s already giving into. He pulls back quicker than an asp, fear a dark ring around his eyes as he stares down at you.

“Did I hurt you, mate?” He questions, frantically looking you over. His fingers trace your skin and your body buzzes in response. But as you look at your nest, now a mere mess of twisted blankets and skewed knick-knacks, your heart plummets and your brows draw together, your eyes prickling with tears.

“No, you didn’t hurt me physically,” you say, throat tight. Cassian frowns, not quite understanding until you gesture to the mess around you. “I know what it’s like to submit to the rut grating through your bones right now,” you speak quietly, enough for him to grasp your feelings. “But you wreck my nest every time you have a rut. Even during my heats. A burrow that is sacred to me, and should be to you too. It’s one of the only places I feel safe—” The other being in his arms.  “—When I’m going through a heat. And I want you there, mate, I need you there, but not if you’re going to ruin my hard work.”

You watch the regret lance his eyes, but before he can say anything, you’re continuing, fighting through the wetness coating your throat, ignoring the wetness coating your thighs.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cassian leans forward, caressing your cheek. You allow it, lean into it even, but you will not continue with this rut until you feel fully at peace and comfortable to do so. “Please, what can I do?”

“Fix it,” you murmur, almost helplessly. There’s a hollowness to your chest that may be heightened by the effects of your oncoming heat, but right now it feels like you’ve lost something greater than a pile of blankets. You’d feel embarrassed, almost, if you were more clear-minded. “You won’t be fucking me in here until you’re not a threat to its structural integrity.” 

You watch Cassian’s throat bob, his cock twitch at your demands, a pretty pearl of precum making its presence known. You quirk an eyebrow, trying very carefully to keep your face stern, shoving back the teary sensations as you tear your gaze from the sight of his leaking cock.

He likes it when you make demands of him? 

You tuck that thought away for later.

“Of course,” Cassian agrees vehemently, already reaching for the first blanket.

You shuffle out of the way. It’s difficult in the space of the closet, now that you’re trapped inside with your behemoth of an alpha who trapezes around as he begins his work. The air is hot and thick already, your forehead is dewey with sweat. You might be regretting building your nest in the closet sooner rather than later. 

You find yourself wondering if you can convince Cassian to move the entire nest later, if he’ll make it just as perfect as this one.

“And Cassian?” You ask, waiting for him to turn. When you have his full attention, you allow your fingers to drift up your bare stomach to your peaked nipples, pinching and rubbing at them. Cassian growls in response and your cunt clenches at the sound. You nearly tell him to forget it and take you up against the racks of clothes instead. “For every item you perfectly fix, is the number of times we’re going to cum together.”

It’s a futile promise at best. Once the both of you succumb to your respective heat and rut, there will be no counting. There won’t be anything but the primal urge to fuck and breed, the both of you cumming more times than you could even imagine. There have been times when the lust was so consuming, you hardly remember anything besides the pleasure Cassian stoked into you, pumping you so full of his seed your stomach bloated with it. How he fucked you on his knot again and again until he fucked himself into a blacking out.

Your mate growls and nods eagerly. The breath whooshes out of his chest as he turns away, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the pile. You know that he’ll never get your nest back to how you had it, that he hadn’t taken a single glance at your work before crashing into it like a bull in a china shop, but you’re more distracted by the curve of that toned ass on display, his cock hanging heavy between those glorious thighs, dragging over one of the blankets and leaving a line of precum in its wake. You watch, entranced by his strong shoulders and wings, how they glide under his tan skin like butter.

“A little to the left,” you advise when Cassian turns to look at you after placing a discarded sheath in place, an expectant look on his face. You bite your lip to hold in the delightful purr that rages in your veins as he follows your command.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, mate,” you agree, taking one step closer. Your fingers smooth down your body, dipping between your legs because with the way he’s perched on his knees for you, you need some sort of stimulation or you’re going to pounce on him. Cassian’s eyes zero in on the movement, iris’ consumed by the black of his pupil. His nostrils flare at the scent leaking from your thighs.

Cassian begins to work even faster.

“Cassian?” You question when your body plunges right over the edge into want. Your heat slams into you full force, and all you crave is to be laid in that nest of yours, built by both of your hands, and give yourself to your alpha.

He hums, peeking over at you. He’s almost done, almost has it perfect, and then he’s going to be mounting you so fast that you won’t even know what hit you. His cock is leaking all over your nest, eager for your cunt to bury itself home in. All he can think about is how he hopes you don’t mind the mess he’s leaving behind while trying to clean up his other one. 

Every muscle in his body reacts to the scent that’s emanating from you. His cock is thick and hard, swollen and ready. He’s going to knot you within the first two strokes, he can already feel it, can imagine the way your cunt will swallow him eagerly, milking him desperately, latching for a pup. He’ll make it up to you though, he can promise that, because Cassian has days and he can be a very inventive male when he wants to be.

When he blinks the haze from his eyes, pupils finally settling their attention on you, you breathe, “It’s great, alpha. But one thing is missing.” 

Cassian frowns, his thick brows pulling tight in confusion. “What’s that, love?”

“It’s missing me.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. You shriek at his speed, the strength that he uses, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you back into the nest. 

You land with a breathless laugh that melts into a needy keen when Cassian splays your legs wide for him and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. You both shiver, you at the feeling of his wet tongue, and him at your taste.

“I won’t last,” he admits, but neither of you care when he pumps himself into you in one long stroke. Your body melts into the blankets and pillows beneath you, feeling so full. You could live like this forever, you think, Cassian’s cock buried deep inside of you, the warmth it provides, the pleasure, it’s all too much.

“Me…neither,” you pant, crying out when he hits your cervix. Fuck, he’s going to put a pup in you by the end of the week. Maybe a whole litter. You can feel it this time. “Fuck, Cassian! You feel so good!”

“You feel like heaven, mate,” he growls back. His breath is hot on your throat, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. It lights your body up like a star and your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails scratching down his back as the feeling builds. “You are my heaven. The stars in my sky and the breath in my lungs. You’re—fuck,” he chokes, quickening his thrusts. “You’re fucking mine.”

Cassian’s fingers slide between your bodies as he slams his mouth against yours. He’s devouring you in more ways than one, and when he starts circling his fingers against your throbbing clit—not too hard and not too soft, just fucking perfect like he always does, even when he’s lost in the throes of his heat—you cum.

You gush, even, and then Cassian’s cumming too, releasing with a growl that shakes the house built into the mountain. You wouldn’t be surprised if the noise causes a landslide.

He pulses inside of you, thick, hot ribbons of cum filling you. His knot grows with each pump, with each spurt, until you’re whimpering with overstimulation, writhing against his body. Cassian doesn’t let up, he’s still going, grinding down on you until there are tears in your eyes, until his incessant rubbing onto your clit turns from sensitive to all out wanting again. You chase that orgasm, jerking your hips against his until you’re drowning in the sensations of it again, until you’re drowning in the feeling of his cum stuffing you full.

Cassian watches you with rapt attention. Waits until you’ve calmed. Opened those pretty eyes. Then, does he cradle you in his arms and roll onto his back, letting you rest against his chest to catch your breath. He wipes the hair from your face, brushes the dampness across your forehead and kisses it tenderly, before dipping down to capture your lips sweetly. This is only the first of the orgasms you’ll both share, and it might not have lasted long, but it rocked your world entirely.

You blink up at him sleepily, moan a little when you feel his cock throb with another squirt of cum. 

“Rest now, mate,” he says gently, and the rumble of his voice is a lullaby all its own. “I’ll be keeping you up for many nights to come.”