#hearing how good it’s been gives me hope

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.�� One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

For King and Kin

22/12: Party and Position Changes - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, smut, prince regent aemond, doggy

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

“She is of a weak disposition, I heard. Perhaps she is with child.”

“The Prince Regent certainly needs an heir.”

“He has looked sour since his Lady Wife left the celebrations.”

Aemond scoffed from his spot at the high table, circling a finger over the rim of his cup, half-filled with wine. They spoke as if he did not hear them, whispering such gossip. It was infuriating.

It was true that his lady wife suffered from sickness, especially in the mornings, but not exclusively. The maesters had told him in quiet confidence that they suspected she was with child, but that it was sensible to wait until the quickening to confirm.

What an excruciating wait.

She had graced the court with her presence earlier in the evening, but when she began to feel her stomach churning, she need only pay him a furrow of her brows in pain and he was more than happy to allow her rest if she needed it.

He was willing to carry her even, excuse himself from the celebrations himself. But she reassured him she was still able to walk, with a small, amused smile.

Even with the conqueror's crown planted firmly upon his head, all he could think of was the sweet curve of his wife's body in his. How warm she is. How smooth her skin. How plush her thighs. How tight her—

“Your Grace.”

Aemond blinked, swallowing thickly as he felt his breeches tighten at the mere tangent his mind was about to embark upon. Nothing softened him faster than the sight of Ser Tyland Lannister though, smug and stood tall as if he himself had been crowned instead of him.

“I wish to congratulate you on your Regency. As always your council will remain steadfast and trustworthy. And should you ever desire a Hand—”

“Thank you, Ser Tyland,” Aemond half-smiled, half-grimaced, “your loyalty is appreciated.”

Aemond nodded curtly to Ser Tyland, signalling the conversation was over, though the Lannister lingered a moment too long for Aemond’s liking before finally bowing and stepping away. 

His good eye drifted across the festivities. Everyone was drunk at best, smiles too wide, laughter too hollow, and he was overcome with the sudden desire to leave it all behind. He glanced in his mother’s direction as he pushed his chair out, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and judgement perhaps. 

She had given him no other look since Rook’s Rest.

“I believe they’ve seen enough of me tonight,” Aemond said, his tone firm. “The realm will not crumble if its Regent retires an hour early.”

“Aemond–”

“Mother,” he interrupted, his voice low but final.

It was only in the hall where he felt he could finally breathe. Air flowed easily, no longer stifled by the pomp and proper of the evening he had just sought to leave. He opened the heavy door to their chambers and stepped inside. The fire had burned low and she was already in bed, lying on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow.

“You left early,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Her eyes opened slowly, and a small smile curved her lips. “And yet you followed.”

As he reached the bed, she shifted to sit up, the blanket pooling around her waist. “I thought you’d stay longer. Your mother will have words, I’m sure.”

“She always does,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers grazing her stomach in that way that had haunted him all evening. “No,” she said softly. “Just…tired.”

He hummed, “when will the maesters give their opinion?”

She looked up at him then, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and hope. “They said it would be unwise to speculate for a few more weeks,” she replied. “But I am aware patience is not your strong suit, is it?”

He smirked faintly. “It is not.”

“You’ve waited for so much, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice warm and soothing, eyes glancing up at the conqueror’s crown sat atop his head. “A little longer won’t harm you.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, crawling over the bed towards her delicate form, pressing his face to her stomach with his hands on her hips, “spare me, dear wife. Have the maesters forbade coupling? I do not think I can wait.”

Her fingers threaded through his hair as she let out a soft laugh. “No,” she said, “but we must be careful. They warned against anything too…strenuous. Until we know for certain.”

“I am no beast,” he muffled against her shift, bunching it up as if desperate to touch her flesh, “I know restraint.”

“I seem to recall differently,” she countered with a teasing lilt.

With a hand to his chest, she pushes him back, enough to be able to straddle his lap as he sits with his back against the bed frame. For a moment his pupil widened slightly and she relished in the warm pride that spread through her at his reaction. 

She wasted no time. Unlacing his breeches was the simple part, but in this position, face to face, it was novel and intimate, more than usual. It was always Aemond on top, commanding her body to his. She wasn't sure how her husband was likely to cope with the change.

His breath hitched, eye closing as she pulled his cock free and worked him to full hardness, her slight palm massaging the ruddy tip, knowing what he liked. He was surely about to speak before she rose her hips, and the tip of him kissed her waiting slit, and slowly, slowly took her husband to the hilt.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, her hands braced against his chest as she guided them both into a steady rhythm. Aemond’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he resisted the urge to take control. He let her lead, his lips parting as a low groan escaped him.

“Ābrazȳrys” his voice caught, his eye blazing as he gazed up at her. “You are perfection.”

She leaned forward, her fingers threading through his silver hair, and pressed her lips to his. The dark crown brushed her fingertips, and in her annoyed breath, she slipped it from his head onto the bed. An action only the wife of the Prince Regent in this intimate moment would ever get away with.

Their breaths mingled, their shared movements growing more heated, more desperate. It felt good to roll her hips against him, each slide home was easy, aided by her unending desire to please him. But soon, she began to slow, the strain in her thighs becoming too much.

Her brows furrowed, her rhythm faltering as she let out a shaky breath. “Aemond.”

He must have felt the shake, as he was already moving her off his lap, “enough. Allow me.”

He guided her off him carefully, laying her down on her side before helping her onto her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and for a moment, uncertainty flickered across her face.

Her cheeks burned as he pulled the shift over her backside, pulling her legs apart so he might see the wetness that glazed her womanhood. She felt exposed and utterly at his mercy in such a compromising position.

Not to mention, this was uncharted territory.

“We’ve never…” she began, her voice trailing off.

Aemond smirked, his fingers trailing down her spine. “No,” he murmured, his tone low, “but we will now.”

He positioned himself behind her, and watched with curiosity and admiration, as for from this angle, he was able to watch himself disappear inside, swallowed by her silky walls. She gasped in turn, this was deeper than she had ever felt him, with her spine curved and backside held against him. Her fingers clutched the sheets as his pace began slow enough, before his restraint began to ebb away.

“Alright?” he rasped, leaning forward to press kisses along her shoulder, his voice rough with both pleasure and concern.

Her hips instinctively pushed back, “don't stop…”

Her approval shocked him, but ignited his confidence all the same as he began to push into her with renewed vigour. She was surprised at how much she liked it, the way he fit against her, the way his hands held her so firmly. It felt raw, intimate, and utterly consuming.

His hands slid up to her waist as he felt her peak quiver through her body, her walls spasming around him and in the force of it, her arms gave out and she pressed her front to the sheets. She swore she felt the palm of his hand on her lower stomach, stroking lovingly as he reached his, pushing hot, pearly ropes of his release so much inside her, that she felt it dribble down her thigh.

Aemond helped her shift onto her side, gathering her into his arms as they both caught their breath. His hand instinctively returned to her stomach, his thumb brushing over the soft skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You will let me know once the maesters give their opinion, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into him. “But tonight, you are Prince Regent. Let us celebrate that.”

Aemond shook his head, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his wife, who had managed to calm the storm in him more times than he cared to admit.

“Tonight, I am your husband. Nothing else matters.”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.5

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four

summary : As the days start getting closer to Christmas, you find yourself even more comfortable with your previous enemy. In a drunken spirit and ego boosted from karaoke, Lando can’t control his words. Even when Max finds you two in bed together.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! alcohol! swearing! drunk lando!

words : 3334

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Lando. Listen to me.” Oscar says over the phone, his voice registering in my brain but being distinctly distracted by two women taking instagram photos next to me.

“I am listening.” I mumble, watching Y/n turn and smile at the camera. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Oscar has requested facetime instead.

“What?” I look at the man who’s sitting in the sun and probably at the beach, “Can you pay attention for two seconds? I don’t want to be talking about work either.”

I sigh, turning away from the girls, “Can I ask you something?” I walk farther away just in case they can hear me.

Oscar groans at me still being off topic, “Shoot.”

“How did you know Lily fancied you?”

His brow jolts up, “I mean, We were pretty young, I just remember that she spoke to me a lot and she-” Lily pops her head in the call now.

“Don't listen to him, Lando! He was absolutely oblivious even though I was literally a giggling school girl around him.”

Oscar looks at her lovingly, “You were quite smiley.”

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds.” I roll my eyes.

Lily leaves and Oscar looks at me quizzically again, “So, who do you like so much that would possess you to ask that question?” I stay quiet for a moment, glancing back at Y/n who’s backlit by the sun, “Aren’t you with your family? Or Max and his girlfriend right?”

“No one. I’m just curious.” Deny deny deny.

He hums, “Wait… Doesn't Max have that sister you stalked all year-”

“Okay bye Oscar!”

He scrambles to get words in, “Wait we still need to talk about-”

I hang up on him.

⋆༺

Max and I have been kicked out by our the women. More like I was kicked out and Max was just craving a coffee. It’s not my fault I can’t cook!

After almost catching Y/n’s hair on fire, I was banished to the little coffee shop that’s been getting us through this week.

The barista hands us our coffees and one hot chocolate for Y/n. Max and I walk slowly to our car, looking at the scenery on the way. “I’m excited for Christmas.”

I smile as Max hums, “You’re awfully chipper.” He gives me a side eye and a smirk, to which I promptly shove him, “Ugh! I do not want to know!”

He laughs, “I know that P teases you about it, But I really do think a girlfriend would be good for you.”

I don’t just want a girlfriend. I want Y/n. I kick a rock at my feet, mumbling, “Yeah I doubt that.” I meant that he wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend if it was his sister, just he scoffs.

“Think about it! This year was completely fucked and yeah a lot of good shit happened but imagine how much easier the bad shit would be if you were in love.”

“You’re disgusting. Us ten years ago would be gagging at this conversation.”

He’s smiling still, “Yeah and that’s because I am in love.” I roll my eyes at his cheesy ass, “How do you have no roster, mate? It’s honestly embarrassing.”

“Maybe I do.” I sip my coffee, “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Maybe i’m just hanging out with Y/n and P too much, their best friend girly vibes are fun.” He points to me, “Still, it’s break! Get your groove on!”

I walk faster, shaking my head. “Groove? I’m going to leave you in the snow.”

⋆༺

you

I’m in a mini dress in the snow. What could go wrong?

I slip five minutes out the door which makes Lando’s arm become my new best friend even though my faux fur coat keeps tickling him.

We may or may not have pregamed for the tiny local bar which has me slipping on ice. “Four jolly jolly shots please…” Lando reads off the bar's menu, laughing a bit.

He looks good. Like really really good. His curls are perfect as usual and when he leans over to talk to the bartender, his dark green shirt tugs against his arms.

My brothers arm goes around my neck, tugging me and laughing, “Merry Christmas, sis!”

“Let go of me you vermin!”

“Shots!” P sings, handing me mine.

“Cheers to us!” Max grins, holding his tiny glass up.

“Cheers to Christmas.” P smiles happily.

Lando taps his glass on the table along with us, winking at me, “Cheers.” We all down the weird peppermint alcohol and swiftly make our way to the dance floor.

We sing along to shitty music and dance together in a crowd of college kids home for break, and their parents.

Lando’s hand finds my waist and is quickly slapped away. He gives me a pouty look which I find annoyingly attractive and quickly turns it into a smirk.

I down my drink, spinning back to my friends and dodging a guy and his friends. “Hey!” The guy smirks and I accidentally laugh in his face, he looks about five years younger than me and is staring at my chest.

I find my friends laughing and drinking with a random man who sort of looks like santa.

“Y/n!” Lando puts his arm around me which I promptly pull off.

“Aren’t you busy trying to hook up with a tourist?” I blink at him while my brother and P are distracted.

He leans in a bit, “You’re a tourist, aren’t you?”

“You trying to get in my pants, Norris?” This makes him smile.

“I’m familiar with the area.”

I find myself at the bar again, but this time I order water. P and I giggle at the sight of Max and Lando just standing there looking lost without us.

“I’m really proud of you.” P says out of the blue.

I frown, “Thanks? I’m proud of you too.”

“I just mean… you’ve been through a lot.” I know what she means. My ex. “And you’re the best person I know.”

I smile, “I adore you, P.”

The truth is, my ex cheating really did break me. But I already knew something was wrong. I wasn’t being treated correctly and honestly breaking up with him was not on the top of my to-do list.

P was always there for me, my brother is a lot to handle and sometimes I just need a girl to talk to. That girl for me is P.

She pops back to her boyfriend while my water gets refilled. I swear this altitude is fucking with me, i’m so thirsty all the time.

“Hi.” I'm about to yell at the college guy who approaches me, until I realize there is no way this man is under twenty five.

“Oh! Hi.” I smile politely and tap the bar.

I clock his douchy attitude as soon as his ringed hand (which definitely came from shein) and patchwork tattoos land on the bar, clearly flexing.

“You’re gorgeous… Sorry, I just had to tell you!” He acts shy, like it’s horribly embarrassing to hit on. woman.

“Thank you…” Is all I can say before he continues.

“I’m Seth!” He’s australian… I think? He’s got short hair with dark skin that makes his eyes pop. “Are you visiting? I am.”

I nod and sip my water, “Yeah…”

“My girlfriend used to live here! My friends let me choose the place and…” He’s going on a long rant that I definitely did not consent to hear.

He’s loud in the way that i’m embarrassed to be heard with because he’s talking nonsense and trying to scoot closer to me with every word he speaks.

I bring my glass to my lips again, looking around then back to Seth who is still talking about his ex. Did I do something to offend the universe?

The hand on my hip scares me, but I don’t jump. I know the feeling too well by now. Lando’s smiling at the bartender, a protective arm around me, “Three green tea shots, thanks.”

He leans his hip against the bar, holding me close as my cheeks go red and I start chugging my water. Seth looks absolutely astonished, “Who’s your new friend, Sunshine?”

“Seth.” I say, swirling my straw around the cold glass.

“Hey man…” Seth looks scared. “I- I didn’t know she was taken.”

“She’s not.” He’s quick with it and I have to bite back my smile to contain myself from embarrassing Seth even more.

“Oh…” Seth hums, clearly wanting to go but I know Lando’s doing that thing where he states blankly at someone while smiling. “Well uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, Seth.” Lando slides him the shot then hands one to me. I decline and he downs it easily.

“Thanks.” He downs the drink with Lando, “And sorry.” Seth looks at me before scurrying off.

I turn to Lando, his hand never moving from my body, “Who knew you were so intimidating?

He shrugs, “I don’t mess around with the people I care about. Plus he just seemed like he was bugging you.”

“Quite talkative.” I smile softly as he laughs, “You’re good at the whole protective act.”

“Who said I was acting?” His face is serious when he says it, but immediately changes when he hears Max’s voice.

“Yo!” His hand drops to his side and he smiles at my approaching brother, “They have karaoke!”

P and Max end up on stage exactly two drinks later. I stick to water, my head already hurts from the others singing.

They're singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and sort of slaying it. Max spins P as they both laugh and pretend they’re at some sort of concert.

“Please get up there!” I giggle with Lando, my hand on his arm as he smiles at me in that dreamy way he does so often.

“No way, Sunshine.” His eyes lined on my lips, his words a bit slurred.

“Please, Lan?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “What’ll you give me if I do?” My breathing quickens as he looks at me, drunk and so out of it that he looks like he’s about to kiss me.

I reach my arm out to fix the messy bit of his hair. His eyes follow my hand and drift down my arm back to me. There’s something so personal about the way he looks at me but it’s hard to explain.

He’s got many different expressions and maybe I'm just a bit self centered, but I swear he has some just for me.

He’s drunk now so all secrecy goes out the window. He’s lucky Max and P are singing so horribly on the tiny sticky stage.

“Whatever you want.” I pull my hand away, “When you’re sober, though.”

“I’m not even that many drinks in!” He scoffs in a whiny tone.

He’s five drinks in I think.

“But i’ll do whatever you say apparently.” His chair makes noise against the floors, practically pushing P and Max off the stage as his chosen music starts.

Linger, by the cranberries.

My smile grows as he starts, absolutely butchering the song immediately. He looks fucking free and absolutely ridiculous.

The microphone against his lips as he spins around and points to me, “You’ve got me wrapped around your fingerrrrrr!”

It was my favorite song in highschool.

He’s a terrible singer and incredibly drunk but knows all the lyrics by heart.

Max starts videoing and Lando flips him off, P is actually in tears and I feel a sense of calm and quiet happiness. It’s weird to think about, especially surrounded by sound and drunken people.

Still, I really do appreciate my friends in moments like these. I watch Lando on the stage again, his eyes are closed and he’s singing along quietly.

Most of the bar claps when he’s done, providing him false confidence even as he almost falls from the stage.

Lando slumps himself in the chair next to mine, Max and I speaking about old Christmas’ and how weird it is that so many things have changed.

P talks about her family traditions and how she’s happy we’re all together even if it is a bit unconventional.

Lando stays quiet, just hums along to the music and keeps his eyes closed. Max laughs at his friend, “Ready for bed, Bob?”

“I can drive back.” I sit up.

Max and P aren’t quite ready to go and assure me that they can take a cab. Lando, however is piss drunk and giggling at everything I say.

He holds onto my hand as we leave, the cold air hitting him like a wreck, “Ay!” He practically runs to the car, tries to get in the driver's seat, and finally gives in to me driving.

“I don't want to go back!” He complains as I drive off.

“We can… look at lights?” He nods eagerly and rests his head against my arm, his fingers drift up and down my arm, doodling invisible drawings.

I drive through the small neighborhoods, all quiet for the time of night. The lights are bright and nothing like where I actually live.

Lando slips his hand in mine, holding it tight and looking out the front window. I let him rub his thumb against my skin, acknowledging the goosebumps it sends up arm.

Maybe I let myself pretend like it means something more than Lando’s drunk touchy self.

His curls brush my bare arm because he requested I take off my coat and turn the heat up instead because it was ‘itching him’.

And I did it because something about Lando makes me just want to say yes.

“I wanna house like that.” He says, pointing to a medium sized white home. It’s got colorful lights all over and a tiny display of Rudolph in the yard.

“I like this one.” I take my free hand off the wheel for a second and point. It’s across the street and covered in white lights.

I keep driving as Lando turns the radio on which is playing Christmas music.

He hums along with the song that he most definitely doesn’t know.

His hand goes to my hair, twirling it around his finger as he looks up at me, doe eyed, “Can I have my reward now.”

“You’re nowhere close to being sober, love.”

He stops when I speak, whispering as if there’s a million people around, “You called me love.”

“You’re not even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

He gasps, “Tomorrow's Christmas eve! What a good present. You love me.” He hums and rests his head back against my shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Norris.” I say while smiling.

We look at all the different lights, rating them and laughing. I mostly laugh at drunk Lando who can’t stop laughing.

Lando rolls down the window and even though it’s freezing, I let him. It’s silent out, except for our music on low.

“Do you like me?” Lando asks as I start back to our place.

I raise a brow, “Sure.”

“But do you?” He looks up at me but I don’t dare look down.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s easier to get him into the house than it was to get him in the car. Besides a tiny slip, he laughs it off and instantly pulls his shirt off when we step inside the hot house.

We both stumble upstairs, I'm so tired that I could fall asleep on the floor. Yet I drag myself into the bathroom and remove my makeup and change into sweats and a hoodie.

Lando is in sweats now, leaning against the bathroom door as I brush my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

I laugh, “You haven’t even tried.”

“Come with me?” I shake my head, going to my own bed. He follows me still, catching my wrist and begging, “Please. I’m cold.”

“You have no shirt on.”

“I want you to.” He admits and for a second I wish he wasn’t so fond of Vodka.

I’m dragged into his bed, his arms wrapping around me quickly and humming against my hoodie, “You’re warm.” His hand goes to mine again, holding it.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I say as I see the smirk on his face.

“The doors locked.”

His hand is still intertwined with mine when he looks up at me. I probably look terrible, but he just smiles.

“You’re really beautiful, Sunny.” His voice is clear and the softest it’s been in a while, especially while drunk.

He yawns and rests his head back on me. Lando whispers while his eyes are closed, i’m not even sure if he meant to say it out loud, but he does. “I hate you for it.”

It’s the first time his words really hit me.

“Why?” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know.” And then he’s asleep and i’m stuck with a man cuddling me who I think I just might like more than I ever thought I could.

⋆༺

There’s few times in my life where I completely regret my life’s decisions. This might just be one of them.

Max is staring at us with his mouth open.

Max is staring at Lando’s shirtless self and his bare arm that’s around me!

I elbow Lando so hard that he wakes up with a groan. “Five more minutes.” He tries to pull me closer but I slap him again.

He opens his eyes this time, at first they’re narrowed at me as if I had the audacity to wake him up. Then he turns his head to what i’m staring at and promptly sits up straight.

“Goodmorning, Max!” He grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” My brother responds, Lando’s face goes slack and lays back down, covering his face with a pillow, “Is this why you two wanted to leave early yesterday?”

“No!” I say right as Lando says, “Yes!”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” Max starts pacing while I see P peek her head in from my room, surveying the situation as I mouth ��help me’ and he leaves me.

“Chill out! Nothing happened.” I say while Lando moans and reaches for the water on his bedside table. “Right, Lando!?” I hit him again.

He sends me an annoyed look, “Right.” He takes a drink, wiping his mouth and looking at Max, “Trust me mate if something did happen she wouldn’t be wearing anything.”

I think he might still be drunk.

Max and I scream in unison. I climb out of the bed, my leg getting stuck in the bedsheet.

“I came to check if you two were still alive because it’s eleven in the morning, but Lando’s door was locked. Yours wasn’t and your room connector was wide open!” I roll my eyes and stomp into my room.

“His drunk ass practically dragged me in there and I wanted to sleep!” I shrug, putting on my slippers and pulling my bed head hair into a messy bun.

“My head is pounding, can you two be quiet!?” Lando says from the other room.

Max follows me down the stairs, “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I echo, finding P in the kitchen and sending her a wide eyed look, “He was drunk, Max.”

I pour myself some coffee, crossing my arms as Max gives me a look. Lando comes thumping down the stairs, hoodie on now with his hair an absolute mess. “Guys…”

Max stops him, “If you make another sex joke Lan, I might kill you.”

“Hey!” He groans, taking my coffee from out of my hands and drinking it! I roll my eyes and pour myself another. “I was just going to say-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Norris.” I mumble.

“Happy Christmas Eve.” He raises his mug, smiling at all of us.

“Oh.” Max blinks as P lets out a little snort.

“Well then…” P smiles at me, “I think it’s time to cook!”

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[selfcarecap]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?�� you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[laylaayman-blog]

🕊️🇵🇸 A Mother's Cry from Gaza: From the Heart of Fear and Suffering 🚨🍉!

Dear friends and compassionate souls on Tumblr !

After more than a year and 2 months of this war and genocide, and after the circumstances became more difficult and we were unable to provide the simplest needs due to the lack of basic food needs and the high prices, I was forced to run this campaign on the GoFundMe website and I hope to God that it will be a path of goodness, provision and compensation for me and my family 🍉🕊️.

We lost security, which is the most important human right. Read the sentence again, yes, security! Which we were deprived of for a whole year (365 full days!) and the days are still increasing!!

Now I am exhausted from the number of times we have been displaced to different areas of the Strip! And I don't want this to happen to us again, what we have seen and experienced is enough!

I am also tired from seeing my daughter Sally putting her hand on her heart every time she hears the sound of bombing and crying from the horror of what we hear!! It's a really bad feeling guys, I hope none of you ever have to go through it 😞..

My health and psychological condition have deteriorated while I am pregnant and I worry about how my child will come into this cruel world, but it is God’s will on this earth, so praise be to God for everything ❤️..

This is our life is between the past and the present !!

Where it was full of beautiful moments, wonderful trips and delicious food, but now everything around us is destruction, fear, displacement, migration, bad memories and exorbitant prices, we are unable to confront it 💔😞..

In this difficult time. The past 15 months of displacement and famine have exacerbated our suffering and unbelievable difficulties. We have used all the sad words to describe the situation we have reached, but these words were not enough. The scale of the tragedy and suffering is much greater than what you may have seen on social media.

There is only fear that fills my daughter's eyes as soon as she hears the sounds around us. She does not realize what is happening outside, but she feels it and sees it in our eyes when she looks at us.

I cannot protect myself, my children. Help me save my children. They deserve a better life, as do all the children of Gaza and the world. Alone, I can't do it, but with your help we can find a safe place and a better future for my children 🥺🇵🇸.

Be the reason for changing a child's life for the better by visiting our link. And donate to us with anything, no matter how small... Every dollar makes a difference and gives us a good life 💕🕊️.

Vatted by @bilal-salah0 here , @90-ghost here , @a-shade-of-blue here ..

[with-my-calamitous-love]

too young / too dumb / to know things like love

katsuki bk. x f! reader

when perhaps one of the most heartbreaking and stressful relationship of your entire life comes to an end, katsuki can’t resist having you for one more night. angst/smut, breakup sex, y/a katsuki

@crushmeeren the snippet i left in ur inbox 🫧 thank you for all your love

another big kiss for u, 5sos nation 🤍 inspired by ghost of you

7:09 am.

katsuki wakes up, still pushed to one corner of the bed. he has the entire king size to himself, but remains unable to sleep on that side of the bed. your side.

he groans when he sits up, pain in his shoulders and a dull throb in his heart. red eyes flicker over to the leftover coffee mug on the beside. as time passes, your lipstick stain fades. but he doesn’t need the satin red makeup left on your favourite mug to remember how your lips felt, the way they tasted.

he wishes to go back to sleep, to dream long enough for you to tell him he’d be fine. he wants to believe that, to hold onto it. even if you know he’ll find himself drowning out his pain, dancing through his house alone, he hopes you’ll lie to him.

worst of all? so many saw it coming. but you both hoped, foolishly so, that you could defy the odds.

you didn’t.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

“so thats it?” you ask, but its more like a statement than anything. the finality in your tone isn’t lost on katsuki. the plates in the sink are left unwashed, dinner cold and neglected. the couch mourns the couple that once embraced on it, floorboards preparing to only creak for one.

years of training, of self doubt, surviving a war and becoming a hero, and the hardest thing katsuki has ever done was walk away from you.

“i have to do this.” he chokes back tears. “you’re not happy. i’m not either

and you want to lie and tell him he’s wrong, but he’s not and that what makes you so fucking angry. he’s hoping his absence will give you the peace his love couldn’t.

“i’ll give you your sweaters back.” you say, not knowing what else to add. you’re hoping he’ll say no. keep them. there yours. they’ve always been.

instead: “thanks, babe.”

“don’t fucking call me that!” you snap, tears spilling like a broken dam.

its at that moment when it sets in for him. when he realizes this’ll be the last time he sees you, or hears your voice. that from now on, he’ll have to drown it out, dancing through his apartment with nothing but the phantoms of what was.

“…sorry, [y/n].” he hesitantly steps closer. he wishes he could yell, be the asshole you know him for. but he right now, he’s wounded, returning only half his weight. he was losing his favourite part of him.

almost pathetically so, you jump into his arms, sobbing into his chest despite the anger you feel in your bones. he doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around yours, pulling you into him like its the last time. it is.

“fuck you, katsuki.” you cry, and he takes it. “yeah, fuck you too, [y/n].”

he says right before kissing you, but its different this time. there’s desperation in it, to feel you, to make this goodbye count.

as much as you try to, you know you love katsuki when you can’t hate him for breaking your heart. you tug him in by his collar, dragging the two of you to the couch. cries turn into moans, pain remains more or less the same.

he’s already shirtless, something he was always comfortable doing around you. he’s so hot it makes you mad, almost wishing you wore something nicer than his old zeppelin shirt thats too big it pools at your waist.

but he doesn’t care. katsuki will fuck you no matter what, evident by how he doesn’t even bother to take it off all the way, impatient. he grabs the hem, dragging it just above your chest. its no secret he wants to see your tits bounce and face flush when he’s buried deep in you.

your morning him, and the fact that from here on out you’ll never get a dick this good.

he rubs circles on your clothed clit, rough, hypnotizing you. he has to resist the urge to slam himself into you right away. he’s already breaking your heart, he doesn’t need to hurt your pussy in the process.

but maybe you don’t care anymore, whispering in his ear. “c’mon, kats, i want you.”

his breath hitches, red eyes looking concerned. “you sure?”

“just fucking do it.”

normally, he’d tease you, tell you to be patient. but he’s not patient either, moving your panties to the side before sliding himself into you. you both moan in relief. it doesn’t take long before he starts thrusting.

“i’m sorry. i’m so fuckin’ sorry.” he almost cries, kissing his apology into your skin, his cock deeply embedded into you. he normally likes it rough, getting you on your knees and pressing you into the pillow. but right now, he needs to see you- all of you. he knows this might be the last time.

“fuck, you feel so good, katsuki.” you whisper, cupping his face while he takes deep, intimate strokes. even on the verge of destruction, even as forever falls apart, he’s still able to make love and pleasure blossom from your heart and mind. he has that hold on you, that even if you married another man the next minute, he’d still have the key to parts of you you never knew you had.

hearing his name roll off of your tongue already breaks his heart. he swears that in another universe, this works. that right after he plants his release deep in you, kissing you through your orgasm, blurring the lines between fucking and making love, he’d hold you close and wake up to your face the next morning. and when that morning comes, he’ll head off to his agency after kissing you goodbye. he’ll think of you, of protecting you, of putting you at the centre of everything he fights for. even after this all ends, he still thinks that’ll be true. even if you lose your love for him.

“where do you want me to finish, baby?” he grits out, knowing he won’t be able to call you baby anymore. for a second you think of correcting him, but resign.

“just.. do it in me.” you cry. “i don’t want you pulling out.”

“fuck, you sure ‘bout that?” he grits, but he’s not complaining. he can’t give you forever, or even proper love, but if you want it, he can give you this.

you muster out a nod, his forehead pressed against yours. he feels that your close and so is he, his pace not faltering for even a moment. this really is the last time.

and when he releases, your mind whites out in pleasure. he makes sure to get as deep into you as humanly possible, wanting every lewd drop of him nestled deep in you. he groans into your ear, riding out your pleasure with a few more thrusts before collapsing next to you.

he pulls you in, almost on instinct. tomorrow it’ll be over, but you gave him tonight.

“you fucking idiot.” he whispers, though you’re not sure if he means you or him. either way, it’d make sense. idiot was his rude, endearing nickname name for you. idiot was also how he felt about himself, losing you.

“i love you.” you say, not knowing whats next, but knowing that whatever it is, it can wait till the sun rises.

“i love you so fucking much.”

and he’s happy that those are his last words to you, because the next day, he wakes up alone.

he pats the spot where you laid on the couch. he’s hurt, but not surprised. all his things are there, but its empty. haunted.

and he’ll find other girls, models, pro heroes, names he can’t remember. he’ll lay them down on his couch, hold their hands, kiss them or even love them. you’ll find other guys to unbutton your blouse, to lend you sweaters and promise you forever. but theres a deep understanding between both you and katsuki.

it’ll never be the same like what it was with you.

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter Six

Chapter Six of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~5k+ Summary: The morning after. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining, SMUTTY GOODNESS (fingering, p in v) Author’s Note: After everyone’s reactions to chapter five, I’ve been extra motivated to get the next few chapters for this story cranked out. I hope you all enjoy! Comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated. 🫶

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The moment you had just shared with Cregan had been incredible, something you had only dreamed of having, and although you knew that it was wrong, a part of you did not regret it.

Hearing his words, his confession of love, had how he was willing to give up everything just for you, had left you floating. However, it was still wrong, and you feared of what the consequences would be.

What have we done?

What’s going to happen now?

Would he truly forsake his duty to the North and choose me?

What if it was all a lie?

Did he mean what he said?

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, listening to Cregan’s soft snores, as you laid in his warm embrace, until sleep finally took you.

You were pulled from your slumber when Cregan pulled you closer to his body, and you felt a hardness press against your lower back. Your body, reacting to Cregan’s of its own accord, had you pushing against him in return, and you bit your lip when he let out a low groan in his sleep. His arm tightened around you, hand drifting down to the apex of your thighs, and you held your breath as his fingers grazed your mound.

Is he awake?

Cregan had given you no sign that he was awake, his breathing still heavy with sleep, but you began to question it further when he once again moved. You held back a gasp when his fingers dipped between your legs and caressed your opening, collecting your wetness and then circling your clit with his fingertips.

He continued to alternate between circling your bud and teasing your hole, and your core grew wetter and hotter with each passing moment. But then he pushed a finger slowly into your heat, and you could not help but release a soft moan, your hips tilting into his touch.

Oh, Seven hells.

You gnawed on your lip, trying to control your breathing, as a second finger joined the first in its exploration. You were still a little tender, but the ever-growing amount of slick leaking out of you made it easier to take his thick fingers in. Cregan’s thumb pressed against your clit as his fingers continued to slowly pump in and out of you, and you began to grind against his palm.

Gods, his fingers feel so good.

You panted as his pace quickened, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you drew closer and closer to the edge. Still wondering if he was awake or asleep, you turned your head to find his eyes still closed, but a small smile sat upon his lips.

The bastard is awake!

No longer concerned with waking him, you began to rut against his hand, whimpering when he curled his fingers and stroked your sweet spot.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he breathed, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “Let me hear you.”

He withdrew his fingers and rubbed your clit as he shifted, sliding his length between your wet thighs. You gasped as Cregan's thick length slid between your slick folds, teasing your sensitive flesh. His hand moved to grip your hip as he slowly rocked against you, his cock gliding back and forth along your slit.

Cregan groaned and captured your lips in a searing kiss as he grinded against you. The friction was maddening, stoking the fire building low in your belly. You whimpered into his mouth, desperately seeking more.

Seeming to sense your need, Cregan shifted and slowly pushed inside you. You both moaned as he sank deep, stretching and filling you completely.

"Gods, you’re taking me so well," Cregan breathed against your skin. His hand splayed across your stomach, holding you close as he began to move, setting a languid pace as he rocked into you from behind. One hand gripped your hip while the other snaked around to tease your clit. Pleasure radiated through your body with each thrust, building steadily higher.

"Cregan," you gasped, clutching at his arm.

He quickened his pace in response, driving into you more forcefully. The new angle had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. Combined with his fingers on your clit, it was rapidly pushing you towards the edge.

"Let go, love," Cregan urged. "I've got you."

With a few more well-aimed thrusts, you shattered. Waves of bliss crashed over you as you cried out Cregan's name. He groaned and followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you.

As you both came down from your post-coital bliss, Cregan peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. He held you close, his arms a warm cocoon of safety and comfort. However, your fragile bubble of happiness burst under the weight of reality when the first light of dawn broke through the night sky.

Cregan sighed and released his hold on you, stretching his back, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the muscles rippled.

“I should probably go,” he reluctantly said. You nodded in understanding, knowing that it would be a scandal should anyone find the Lord of Winterfell exiting your chambers at an inappropriate hour.

“Best be quick about it,” you stated as you sat up, holding a fur against your chest to cover your modesty and somehow shield your heart. Cregan quickly dressed and sat at the edge of your bed, placing his hand against your cheek.

“I know you probably do not believe me, but I meant everything I said last night,” he reiterated with a kiss. “I love you.”

You returned the kiss, and he got up and quietly opened the door to leave. He turned to look at you one more time and you gave him a small smile, however on the inside you were an anxious wreck.

Cregan quietly shut the door and turned to walk to his chambers, his mind swirling with the events of the night. For once, he had let himself go and not held back his feelings. He had confessed his love to you, and he felt lighter for it.

However, a dark cloud also loomed over him. He knew that he had placed himself in an impossible position, caught between doing what he was duty bound to do, and what he wanted to do for himself.

Cregan knew that what the two of you had done was irresponsible, especially since he was still betrothed to Arra. And he had taken your maidenhood, something that was deeply frowned upon, especially since it was out of wedlock. He was aware that there would be dire consequences for his actions, and he needed to take time to figure out what he was going to do.

Cregan was so preoccupied with his pondering on his way to his chambers, that he did not realize that someone was waiting for him outside his door.

“Cregan,” a voice called, and his eyes snapped towards where the dimly lit figure sat.

“Cerwyn,” he awkwardly greeted as his friend stepped into the light. Cerwyn was no idiot. Cregan knew that from his disheveled appearance, the direction he had been coming from, and the unusual hour, his friend would easily surmise the situation.

“Taking a late-night stroll, my friend?” Cerwyn jested with a grin. “Or shall I say an early-morning one?”

“Uh…” Cregan scrambled to produce an answer but came up short.

“Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private,” Cerwyn suggested, sensing Cregan’s unease at giving an answer in such an exposed space. Cregan nodded and pushed the door to his solar open, quickly stepping inside, his companion following closely behind him.

Cregan ran a hand through his unruly hair, still damp from the heat of the night. He tried to compose himself as Cerwyn shut the door behind him, leaning casually against it with his arms crossed.

“Well,” Cerwyn began, his tone light yet laced with knowing. “I take it the feast was not the only eventful part of your evening? I would wager a full cask of wine that your ‘stroll’ had something to do with her.”

Cregan shot him a sharp look, but there was no malice behind it. He sighed heavily, sinking into the chair by the hearth, his broad shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation. “Spare me your jests, Cerwyn.”

“No jests, then. But do not bother denying it,” Cerwyn said, stepping away from the door and closer to the desk where Cregan now stood. “You look like a man who has both won a battle and lost a war in the same night. And the direction you were coming from makes it rather obvious.”

For a long moment, Cregan said nothing. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint crackle of the dying embers in the hearth. Finally, Cregan spoke, his voice low. “I have made a mess of things.”

Cerwyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, letting his friend continue.

“I… I love her, Cerwyn,” Cregan admitted, his words heavy with emotion. “I have loved her for years, longer than I care to admit. And last night… I told her. I told her everything.”

“And?” he prompted.

“And I acted on it,” Cregan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I could not stop myself. I did not want to. But now… gods, Cerwyn, I do not know what to do. I am betrothed to Arra. I have a duty to my house, to the North. But I cannot—” He broke off, his hands clenching into fists. “I cannot let her go.”

Cerwyn leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Cregan, I have known you long enough to see the way you look at her. And I have known her long enough to see the way she looks at you. But this… this is not just about the two of you...”

Cregan looked away, his jaw tight. “I know that. I know I have made things worse for her—for both of us. But for one night… I did not care. For one night, I let myself have her. I should not have… but I could not stop myself.”

“Cregan, you know what this could mean—what it will mean—if anyone finds out. It will not just be your honor on the line. It will be hers as well.”

“I know,” Cregan snapped, his voice tinged with frustration and guilt. “But I—damn it, Cerwyn, I love her. I have always loved her.”

Cerwyn’s expression softened in understanding. “But love alone does not untangle this mess you have made.”

Cregan looked away, his jaw tight. “I know that. I am bound to Arra, as my duty demands. But my heart… my heart belongs to her. It always has. But I know I cannot easily break my oath to Arra. It is more than a marriage; it is an alliance. It is the future of the North.”

Cerwyn straightened, his brow furrowing as he studied his friend. “And what about her future, Cregan? What about her happiness? Do you think she will wait for you forever while you tear yourself apart trying to please everyone but her? She has turned down every suitor, myself included, because she has waited and continues to wait. She has countless men vying for her attention, and yet all she sees is you. Any man would happily make her their bride, but she does not want just any man, Cregan. She wants you. I have loyally stood by your side over the years, and I will do so until my final breath, but I refuse to let her heart keep breaking over you. If you choose to pursue her, then pursue her properly, do not continue to taint her honor and yours. But should you choose to cast her aside once more, I will seek her hand and try to give her the happiness that she deserves.”

Cregan opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. He had no answer—at least not one that would satisfy either of them.

Cerwyn sighed, stepping back, and giving Cregan a look that was equal parts exasperation and sympathy. “You need to make a choice, Cregan. And soon. Because if you do not, you will lose her. And I promise you, that loss will haunt you far more than breaking an alliance ever could.”

With that, Cerwyn turned and walked to the door, pausing only to glance back at Cregan one last time. “You may be Lord of Winterfell, but even a lord cannot have everything. Remember that, my friend.”

And then he was gone, leaving Cregan alone in the dim light of his solar, his thoughts a storm of guilt, longing, and the faint, flickering hope that he could somehow find a way to set things right. The choices before him were clear, but none of them came without a cost.

He would either lose you or lose the North.

Once Cregan left, you laid back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating whether you should try to sleep or not. You closed your eyes and tried to clear your head, but to no avail. In the absence of Cregan’s warm embrace, you could not sleep.

Sitting up, you began to dress, the brightening light of morning peeking through the window offering a semblance of comfort in such a dreary place. Brushing your hair, you thought of what the day would bring.

Would Cregan keep his promise?

He does not exactly have the best history of keeping them.

Last night should not have happened.

Or this morning.

It was wrong.

But also felt so right.

What am I going to do?!

Sighing heavily, you grabbed your cloak and made your way through the faintly lit halls, opting to speak to Sara about what had occurred the night before. Even with the thick furs around your body, the halls of Winterfell seemed more cold than usual, and you could not help but quicken your steps.

At first, you looked in the kitchens but found no sight of her. You knew it she would not be in the Glass Gardens just yet, so you surmised that she must be in the library. You hastily made your way up the steps of the Library Tower, the cold no longer bothering you. Entering the tower, you spotted Sara in the corner, placing books back on a shelf.

She gave you a smile when she saw you, however the gloom expression on your face quickly made her concerned.

“I would say good morrow, however it seems that it may not be so,” she stated, placing her books on a nearby table. You shook your head.

“I have something I would like to discuss with you,” you said, not caring for formalities at such an early hour. Sara gestured to a set of chairs by a window, and you promptly took a seat, trying to steady your breathing after rushing up the steps.

“What is it?” she inquired. “Are you unwell?” You shook your head again.

“No,” you answered. “But…. I fear that I may have made a grave mistake last night after the feast.” She looked at you and nodded to continue.

“Cregan came by my chambers,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the admission pressing down on your chest, and you couldn’t quite meet her eye.

“And?” she prompted gently, though there was a flicker in her gaze that made your stomach turn. You shift your weight, your hands fidgeting on your lap

“And… I made a mistake.” The words come out softer than you intended, but they feel heavy in the air between you.

Sara didn’t immediately react, letting the moment stretch. When she spoke, her voice was steady and careful.

“What kind of mistake?”

You risked a glance at her, worried about how she would react to what you were about to tell her. She remained neutral, her face betraying nothing. You knew then that she would not judge you. So, you swallowed back your pride and confessed.

About Cregan, about his confession and his promise.

About his declaration of giving up the North just to be with you.

And how you told him not to do such a rash thing.

About you and him, together.

About last night, and how it felt to be in his arms.

You confessed about the events of the morning, the way that it felt to have him touch you.

You confessed that you had given him your maidenhead, something that was supposed to be saved for your future husband.

Your friend didn't move or speak, letting you get all of it out.

You had not meant for him to come to your chambers and confess his love for you.

You had not meant for the two of you to be together.

But it had happened.

And there was no going back.

Sara took a deep breath and placed her hand on top of yours, her gaze unwavering.

"I know that you love him, and now you know that he loves you, but what you did was very foolish.”

“I know,” you replied, your head hung low.

Sara’s hand tightened slightly over yours, not in reprimand but in reassurance. Her expression softened, though there was a shadow of worry behind her eyes.

“You have done something that cannot be undone,” she said quietly, her voice firm but kind. “I am not here to judge you, but I cannot ignore the consequences either. If anyone finds out, it will not just be your reputation at stake—it could ruin you both. And if Cregan does not act carefully, it could bring shame upon the Stark name as well.”

You nodded slowly, your stomach knotting with guilt and dread. “I know,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I know it was wrong, but I… I could not stop myself. I have loved him for so long, Sara. And for one moment, it felt like everything I had ever wanted was within my grasp.”

Sara’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a moment before responding. “You have always been strong, stronger than you realize. But love… love can make fools of even the wisest of us. I do not doubt Cregan loves you; he has made that clear. But what he does next matters far more than his words—or even what happened last night.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the clarity of her statement. “What do you mean?”

Sara sighed, leaning back in her chair. “He says he loves you, and I believe him. Saying that he would give up everything for you sounds romantic, but we all know that it would come at a terrible cost. Cregan is bound to the North, to duty, and to Arra. You were right to tell him not to abandon his duty. His choices will affect not just himself but his house, his people, and you. If he truly loves you, he will find a way to fight for you while protecting what he has now. That is what you deserve. Anything less, and he is not worthy of the love you have given him.”

Your chest ached at the truth in her words. “And if he does not fight for me?”

Sara’s gaze hardened, though her voice remained gentle. “Then you must let him go. You cannot live your life as someone’s second choice, no matter how much you love him. You deserve more than stolen moments in the shadows—or the burden of a man who cannot choose you without destroying himself.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you nodded, her words sinking into your heart like stones. “What should I do, Sara? I feel so… lost.”

She tilted her head, considering her words carefully. “For now, you must carry on as if nothing happened. Let Cregan come to you with a plan, if he has one. Do not chase him, do not plead for his love. He knows where you stand—he knows what he stands to lose. Let him decide if he is willing to risk it all for you. But be clear with yourself: if he offers you nothing but whispers in the dark and fleeting promises, you must walk away. That is not love—it is selfishness.”

You wiped at your eyes, grateful for Sara’s unwavering support. “And if he does not come to me at all?”

Sara smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then you will have your answer. And when that time comes, you will need to decide if you are willing to let someone else in—someone like Cerwyn, perhaps.”

Your heart twisted at the mention of Cerwyn. “He deserves someone who can love him fully. I do not know if I can give him that.”

Sara shrugged lightly. “Love is not always instant, nor is it always easy. But Cerwyn is a good man. He sees you, values you, and would give you a life filled with kindness and stability. That is more than many can say for their marriages.”

You did not respond, your mind whirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The warmth of the morning sun filtering through the window did little to chase away the chill in your bones.

After a long silence, Sara gave your hand one final squeeze before rising from her chair. “Whatever happens, I will stand by you. Just promise me one thing.”

You looked up at her, your voice barely audible. “What?”

“Promise me that you will protect yourself. Do not let love blind you to your own worth. You are more than someone’s secret, and you deserve to be someone’s first choice.”

Her words stayed with you long after she left the library, leaving you alone with your thoughts, and you could not help but wonder if Cregan would truly fight for you—or if his duty to the North would outweigh his love.

And if the answer were the latter, what would become of you?

The sun had just begun to crest over the horizon as you made your way to the stables, the early morning chill biting at your cheeks. Sara’s words still lingered in your mind, heavy and unrelenting, as you saddled your horse.

You needed clarity—space to think. A ride through the Wolfswood always helped to clear your head, the solitude of the trees offering a sense of peace you could not find within the walls of Winterfell.

As you led your horse from the stables, the sound of boots crunching against the frozen earth caught your attention. You glanced up to see Lord Cerwyn approaching on foot, his dark riding cloak draped over one shoulder.

Your mind drifted to the feast, recalling the brief conversation you’d had with Cerwyn amid the flurry of toasts and stolen glances. You had both agreed to meet, though neither of you had settled on when. Still, you had not expected to run into him so soon.

“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted, a warm smile softening his sharp features, though his brows lifted slightly in surprise. “I did not expect to see you so early.”

You managed a small smile, though your mind felt heavy. “Nor did I,” you admitted quietly. “But I suppose this gives us a chance to talk sooner rather than later.”

His smile widened, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable. “I will not argue with that,” he said before his sharp eyes scanned your face. “Though you look like you have not slept.”

You glanced at your horse, already saddled and ready to ride, trying to deflect. “I just needed some air.”

“Planning to ride out alone?” he asked, his tone steady but touched with concern.

Your grip on the reins tightened defensively. “Yes,” you replied, though the word felt like an incomplete truth.

“Then let me join you,” he offered without hesitation, stepping closer. His tone was calm, unassuming, but his gaze held steady. “If you are going to ride out alone, you might as well have company.”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering over him. His presence was grounding, and part of you welcomed the thought of not being alone with your swirling thoughts.

“Fine,” you said quietly, motioning toward the stable. “You had better saddle your horse, then.”

Without missing a beat, Cerwyn strode past you into the stable. It wasn’t long before he emerged leading his own mount, the movement swift and practiced.

As he adjusted the reins and swung into the saddle, he cast you a sidelong glance. “You know, you’re not as convincing as you think when you say you are fine.”

You shot him a look, but his smile was more knowing than teasing. “I am fine enough, Cerwyn” you muttered, climbing onto your own horse.

“We shall see about that,” he said lightly, as the two of you nudged your horses forward into the Wolfswood.

You rode in silence as the trees of the Wolfswood closed in around you, their bare branches casting long shadows across the frost-covered ground. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the earth filled the quiet, a steady cadence that seemed to ease some of the tension in your chest.

The frost-covered trees blurred past as you rode, the cool air biting at your cheeks. Lord Cerwyn rode beside you, his presence steady and quiet, though you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. He was not pressing you to speak, but his silence was deliberate, leaving the space open for you to fill it.

Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, you broke the stillness. “Something… happened last night,” you began, your voice shaking as you tightened your grip on the reins.

Cerwyn turned his head toward you, his expression calm but knowing. “With Cregan?”

Your stomach dropped. His tone wasn’t accusatory, but the way he said it—so sure—made your chest tighten. You nodded hesitantly, unable to meet his eyes. “He… he came to me after the feast,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He said things—things I was not expecting. And I—” You stopped, your throat tightening as shame and confusion warred within you. “I gave myself to him.”

You braced yourself for judgment, but Cerwyn’s expression did not change. Instead, he slowed his horse, letting the silence stretch between you before speaking. “I know,” he said softly.

Your head snapped toward him, your breath hitching. “You… you know?”

Cerwyn’s gaze didn’t waver. “He told me.”

The words hit you like a blow, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “What… what did he say?”

“Enough,” Cerwyn replied, his tone even. “Enough to know that he loves you, that he has been carrying this weight for a long time, and that he had made a mess of things—for both of you.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your chest tightening. “I… I did not mean for this to happen,” you whispered. “I did not mean to ruin everything.”

“You have not ruined anything,” Cerwyn said firmly. “The world may tell you otherwise, but that doesn’t make it true.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you shook your head. “I am no longer a maiden, Cerwyn. What man would want that? What kind of future could I possibly have now?”

Cerwyn slowed his horse further, his expression softening as he looked at you. “You think less of yourself because of what happened? You think it diminishes your worth?”

“I do not know what to think,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I have been told my whole life what I am supposed to be, how I am supposed to act. And now… I have ruined it all.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze steady. “You are still you. You are still kind, strong, and endlessly stubborn. One night does not change that, and it certainly does not make you less deserving of love or happiness.”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to fall. “But if anyone finds out—if she finds out…”

“Arra,” he said knowingly.

You nodded, your hands trembling on the reins. “I do not want to hurt anyone. I never wanted this to happen. But I—” You faltered, the words catching in your throat.

“But you love him,” Cerwyn finished quietly.

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “It does not matter,” you murmured. “He is promised to her. He has duties, responsibilities… and I—”

“You think you are not enough for him,” Cerwyn said, his tone gentle but unwavering. “But you are. You have always been enough. The question is not whether he loves you—it is whether he is willing to fight for you. And whether you are willing to let him.”

You stared at him, his words cutting through the fog of doubt clouding your mind. “You think he should fight for me?”

“I think you both need to decide what you want and what you are willing to risk for it,” he replied. “This is not just about love. It is about choices—and consequences. If you two want to be together, you will have to face them together. But if you do not…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavily on your chest. “What would you do?” you asked, your voice trembling. “If you were in his position?”

Cerwyn was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant as he considered your question. “I do not know,” he admitted finally. “I am not Cregan, and I cannot pretend to understand all that weighs on him. But if it were me… I would want to do what is best for both of us. Even if it meant letting go.”

Your brow furrowed, your heart aching at the thought. “Letting go?”

He gave a small, sad smile. “Sometimes love means making the harder choice. But it is not my choice to make—it is his. And yours.”

You looked away, tears slipping down your cheeks as his words settled deep within you. “It all feels so impossible.”

“It is,” Cerwyn said softly, “until it is not.”

You glanced back at him, his gaze steady and unwavering. Despite everything, he wasn’t judging you. He wasn’t condemning you. He was simply there, offering his quiet support.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He reached over, his hand brushing yours briefly. “Always,” he said, and in that moment, you believed him.

The two of you continued your ride in silence, the Wolfswood stretching endlessly before you. But for the first time in what felt like days, a fragile, uncertain hope began to stir within your heart, subtle but undeniably there.

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[zepskies]

Girl no worries -- dive right in! 😂 I'm so excited that you're dipping back into ESC! 💜💜

Not shady at all 🙄 He's such a mess At least he came to the realization himself, even if his solution clearly isn't well thought through 😅 I can see his good intentions, though. Hope he realizes soon enough that he needs to accept some help 💔 But then to be gone for four months???? 👀 What the hell did he get into?!

Oh. Charlie is the hottest mess. 😭😭 I love that you're curious about what he's gotten into though -- and trust me, you'll see. 😅 He did have good intentions at the start, but he's struggling for sure.

Been there 🤣🤣 (But honestly, eating pure Nutella and just spooning it out of the jar is the fucking best, even though you feel like shit after 😂)

100,000% LOL. I felt like my lovely ladies reading would relate to this Nutella part. 🤣

I love that she didn't want to call the cops to protect her brother. I'm glad she sees he's only lost and still wants to help him, no matter what (even when he apparently burns the house down 🙈). It also makes complete sense she doesn't want to lose him, considering everyone she's already lost 😢

Oh yeah, she knows Charlie is a good person underneath his addiction and whatever he's doing to try and "make it up to her." She wants him safe and pulled out of whatever the hell he's been doing, but she doesn't necessarily want him to go to jail, where he's even less likely to get the help he needs. Plus, like you said, she's lost so much already, and he's really the only family she has left. 💙

She's always so strong and keeps it together because she's always had to do that, but I'm glad she could go for a moment with Russell ❤️

We do what we gotta do in life, amirite? 😅 But she did finally let some walls come down for Russell and allowed him to comfort her. 🥹🥹

DEAD 💀🤣🤣🤣 But yeah, seriously, what the fuck was in those woods they grew up in? Magic water??? 🔥🫠

Lmfao!! FR! Some LOTR magic tree water action that made them boys grow up tall and pretty. 💖💖

Ugh, I want a full family reunion so badly on the show 😭 Thank you for this 🤍

Ahaha you're so welcome! 💜 I had to give them a family reunion moment. 🥹💞

Love her 🤍 Also, you captured Colter's personality so well! His reactions crack me up so much. He's either always super focused or gives sarcastic deadpan answers 🤣

LOL thank youu!! I did my best with Colter, whose personality I thought was harder to nail down than Russell's honestly. Just because of how stoic he is. But I also love his sarcasm/dry wit! 😂😂

And again, what the hell did Charlie get into??? Missing artifacts, and now she's getting kidnapped? I hope the guys find them before the bad guys hurt either reader or Charlie.

Oh that's the million-dollar question, isn't it? 😆😆 The "timer" starts now!!

Also, Russell surely will bite himself in the ass for not just taking her to the bar with them after this 🙈

Oh DEFINITELY you're gonna see some self-deprecating Russell in Part 3 lol.

Gaaaaah, I can't wait to read the next part! I'm on the edge of my seat 😁👏🍿

Aww yay!! I'm so glad to hear that you're liking ESC so far. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ride, 'cause it's about to get bumpy lmao. 😏💕💕

Every Second Counts - Part 2

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I decided to put this chapter out a bit early due to some Father's Day stuff tomorrow. I was blown away by the response from you guys on Part 1!! Thank you so much. 🥰 I had some trepidation writing a new character, but I'm so glad you guys seem to enjoy where this little series is going so far. It makes me even more excited to bring you the next chapter of ESC! 💜

Song Inspo: “Too Late” by The Paper Kites

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: Shaw family feels, a bit of mystery, tinge of fluff and mutual pining, and a twist…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: “Family Reunion”

The next day after he left, you finally managed to get Charlie on the phone. He implored you not to try and find him.

He claimed he was staying with a friend for now, and was picking up some odd jobs through a connection at the museum—another security guard who knew how to get extra work. 

“What kind of extra work?” you asked. You sunk back into the couch in your living room and held a hand to your aching head. You had already lost sleep over this, worrying about where he was and what the hell he was doing.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

He really knew how to frustrate you to the nth degree.

“Charlie, just come home. Please,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes, choking your words. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

You heard him sigh.

“You had a right to be mad,” he said. “I’m the big brother, remember? But I’m…I’m a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“We take care of each other, and you know that,” you said sharply, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“Listen, I’ll come home when I can, okay? Be good.”

“Charlie! Ch—” The call ended, and you nearly tossed your phone in aggravation.

“That stubborn fucking idiot,” you muttered.

Four months later, your worry was eating you alive.

Charlie refused to come home or tell you where he was staying. The only time you got to see him was when you visited him on his night shift at the museum. You tried to talk him into coming home, but your brother remained stubborn.

“You get that from Dad,” you’d told him once, while watching him eat some leftover meatloaf you’d made for him. The two of you stood outside the museum on his break.

Charlie had smirked at you. “Yeah, well, you share the disease.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that.

But just when you thought you were starting to get through to him, now, he’d stopped answering your calls. For that matter, the museum hadn’t even seen or heard from him in a week or so.

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out. You had a chocolate-covered butterknife in one hand and a used Kleenex in the other.

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t want necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

You hadn’t had a chance to meet him when he dropped in a couple of months ago, but she’d told you about his brief visit to find a graduate student who had been kidnapped, and nearly killed by a professor in the Sciences department for uncovering a flaw in the man’s research. That flaw would have costed him his entire grant, and possibly his career and reputation. 

The terrible incident had caused an uproar on campus. Students were released from their classes for an entire day after the professor was arrested. 

Now, Dory considered your question with a thoughtful nod. “I’ll call him.”

You were grateful, but your face became pained as something occurred to you. You held up a hand.

“Wait, I just realized I can’t pay him,” you said. You didn’t have more than a thousand dollars in your savings account, and that was for emergencies. Like the time Charlie nearly burned the house down after a lighting mishap with his bong.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that,” Dory said. She laid a comforting hand on your arm. “He’d do this as a favor to me.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, your brows furrowing. “That’s a pretty big favor.”

She’d told you what some of Colter’s fees could run up to, but she tried to quell your reservations and promised to call him regardless.

However, the more you thought about it, you already had a phone number in your cell…for the one person who would understand the part of your brother that you might never be able to. 

After you left Dory’s apartment, you debated the idea in your head for the entire drive home. 

And when you got to the house, you picked up your cell, and you called him. Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help smiling just at the sound of his voice, smooth and pleased, and a hint surprised.

“Hey,” you replied, biting your lip. “How are you?”

“I’m good. You’ve got good timing too. I just came off a job,” he said.

“Oh really? Where are you?”

“Well, I’m states-side now. Just got back from South America.”

“Oh, wow,” you said, blinking incredulously.

What the hell was he doing there? you had to wonder. Maybe he was protecting some Latin American emissary. Or maybe, he was doing things you didn’t want to think about. Your brother had filled you in a bit about civilian contract jobs in recent weeks, as he’d considered going after those himself.

“They can pay very well, from what I hear,” Charlie had said. “The problem with that is, it kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the military.”

Despite that mildly troubling thought, you tried to focus on the fact that you had this man on the phone at all.

A smile formed across your lips. “Did you get yourself a nice tan?”

“Eh, not really. Was more of a night job,” he said. “But uh…how are you doing? Not gonna lie, I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m not all that good, if I’m honest,” you said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You heard the concern in his voice. You steeled yourself before you answered.

“Russell, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you for a big favor.”

“Hmm, this sounds serious,” he said.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. When you next took a breath, it came out unsteady. “My brother’s missing.”

It was a bright Saturday morning when you welcomed Russell Shaw into your house. He looked around, finding family pictures, bookshelves, paintings, candles, all things that began to shade in who you were in the comfort of your home.

“It’s nice,” he said. “It’s uh, homey.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him.

“Well, it’s the house we grew up in,” you replied.

You and Charlie had of course inherited it after your parents’ passing. Their life insurance policies had helped pay off the three-bedroom house while you two were still in school. Your grandparents helped a lot back then too, and had even moved in for a time. Now they each had plots beside your parents at Grandview Cemetery.

“You want some coffee? I know you had a long drive,” you asked.

“Sure,” Russell agreed. He followed you to the kitchen, where you put on the coffee pot. You made a discreet glance at him. He looked virtually the same, with that familiar green jacket, jeans, boots, and a Jimi Hendrix shirt. You'd had a feeling he was a classic rock guy.

“Look, not that I wasn’t glad to get your call,” Russell said, “but you do know that I’m not the tracker in the family, right?”

“Dory did offer to call Colter, but I can’t afford to pay him,” you said.

“I could help with that,” said Russell. You raised up a hand to stop him there.

“I don’t want that kind of help from you,” you said firmly. “I didn’t call you for money, Russell. I called you because you’ll probably understand where Charlie’s head’s at. Better than me, anyway.”

He hesitated, but nodded in understanding. When the coffeemaker dinged, finished percolating, you turned to make him a mug with cream and sugar, as per his request.

While he waited for the coffee to cool, he admired you for a moment. Even in a plain V-neck shirt and a pair of jeans, your hair swung up in a ponytail, you were still a sight. (Your lipstick did match your shirt though. That made him smile.)

And Russell could admit, it was good to see you again.

“Me and Colter reconnected recently. Did Dory tell you?” he said.

Your brows raised high in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

The two of you found your way back to the living room with your mugs.

“Yeah. We talked for the first time in…shit, over twenty years,” Russell laughed, raking a hand through his hair.

Not only had he been able to say his piece to Colter about their…family issues, they’d also solved a case of their own, with Colter agreeing to help him find his friend Doug, who worked for the same black ops contract agency as Russell. The Horizon Group.

The aftermath of that still left Russell with a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of how Horizon would’ve left Doug to rot, if it hadn’t been for him and Colter pressing their luck and digging deeper into who’d taken his friend.

That whole mess had also made Russell begin to wonder if maybe he needed a new line of work after all. But, because the money was just that good, he’d ended up on a new job by the end of the month.

Your voice soon broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you said. You reached over and touched his arm, with warmth in your eyes. 

Russell gave you a smile. The closeness between you brought up memories of that dusty bar, and the taste of lime and tequila on your soft, supple lips. But you subtly cleared your throat and took your hand back. He hid a twinge of disappointment.

“So what’s going on with your brother?” Russell asked.

Get back on track, he reminded himself.

You sighed. “Damn Charlie.”

Over coffee, you explained that Charlie took off a few months ago, the night you got back from the bar. You had seen him only briefly, whenever you were able to catch him at the museum after work. He’d been keeping in touch with you on a weekly basis, but now, he hadn’t called in almost two weeks. You couldn’t get ahold of him on any of the numbers you had. They all seemed to be burner phones. Plus, he’d been let go from his job at the museum after not showing up for the past week. 

“What’s he into, extracurricular-wise?” Russell asked.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me,” you said in frustration. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled. “He said it was safer that way.”

Russell laid a supportive hand over yours, earning your watery gaze.

“And you haven’t gone to the police?” he asked.

“I think he’s gotten into something…dangerous. I don’t want to get him in more trouble than he might be already,” you said. “I just want him to get help for his problems. Physically and mentally.”

Russell nodded. He understood that you wanted to protect your brother. Sometimes though, getting into “trouble” was the rock bottom someone needed in order to face their problems.

“Does he have friends?” he asked. “Some kinda crowd he hangs around with?”

“Not anymore. I think he’s lost touch with his Air Force buddies,” you said, though you tried to think. Your brows furrowed as something occurred to you. “He knew someone at work, at the museum. Another security guard on his same shift. After they cut his hours down to part-time, Charlie said the guy knew how to get extra work.”

“Okay, that’s definitely where we start,” said Russell. “Let me just give Dory a call. If I don’t let her know I’m in town, I don’t even wanna know the consequences.”

You laughed through your tears and tried to brush them away. 

“Yeah, do that. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Russell took one look at you, and he tightened his hold on your hand.

“Hey,” he said.

You glanced up at him, as tears clung to your lashes. His heart couldn’t help but clench for you. He really didn’t like to see you like this.

“We’re gonna find him. You’ve got my word,” he said. 

You were desperate to believe him. So you nodded, sniffling as you tried and failed to keep yourself together. You were scared, for the first time in a long time. 

“All right, come ‘ere,” Russell said. When he guided you into his arms, you went willingly. You pressed your face into his chest to hide your weeping. His hold was warm and strong enough to make you feel secure. Just for this moment, you didn’t have to pretend you had everything handled.

“He’s the only family I have,” you reminded him. He nodded.

“I hear ya. We’ll get him home,” he said. “And I am going to call Colter. Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll square it up with him.”

“Russell—” you protested, but he just squeezed you playfully. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pull big brother rank. He’s got no choice,” he joked. 

You shook your head, but you allowed him to comfort you for a bit longer. Because all too soon, you’d have to steel yourself again. You’d have to be the version of yourself that you always had to be, ever since you were fourteen years old.

You invited Dory over to your house, where the three of you were soon joined by the last of the Shaw siblings: the one you had yet to meet.

Colter made it in time for dinner that afternoon. The tall blonde took up your doorway with his broad shoulders and offered you a polite smile, along with his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Colter,” he said. 

You mentally tripped up a bit as you shook his hand and gave him your name. Did all the Shaw siblings have to be so damn attractive?

“Uh, yes, please come in.” You ushered him into your home and led him into the living room, where Russell stood from the couch. 

“Ahh, there he is,” Russell grinned, slapping his younger brother on the shoulder. 

“Here you are,” Colter gestured at him. “Where the hell did you take off to after last time?”

“Ah, you know. Argentina was fun.”

“I’m sure it was.”

You paused in the doorway, just watching the brothers in mystification. Dory shot you a questioning look as she came over from the kitchen. You met her with raised brows. 

“What?” Dory asked. A smile played on her lips.

“Do all of you have to be so unbelievably pretty?” you whispered over to her. Dory smirked and bumped your shoulder, nodding at Colter. 

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. Dory just laughed and moved on to say hello to the other blonde. She pulled him down into a hug, and he reciprocated warmly.  

Russell then laid a hand on Colter’s shoulder, as well as Dory’s. He wore a big, proud grin.

“Hey. Look at us, huh?” he said. 

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

You smiled. You were lingering by the kitchen doorway. If nothing else, you were glad that this whole mess had been able to bring Dory back together with her family. 

You decided to give them a moment, and you wandered back into the kitchen. There you took a beat for yourself, mainly to breathe.  

When you again thought of Charlie, you had to wonder just what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Later, the four of you sat in the living room so you could explain everything you knew so far to Colter. He took all the information in with a pensive expression that didn’t reveal much to you. 

“So you said he was struggling?” he said. 

“Yes, after he got out of the military,” you confessed. “He had a hard time figuring himself out. I got him the job at the museum, but I don’t think it was enough for him.”

“Why is that?” Colter asked. He saw that you were reluctant to explain. “I need to know the full picture of who Charlie is if I’m going to be able to figure out his probable moves.”

You sighed. “Well, he was seeing a VA psychiatrist for a while. They wanted to put him on antidepressants, but he stopped going. He…started self-medicating instead.”

That part was hard to admit, but it was the truth. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t any longer. 

“What substances?” Colter asked. 

“Alcohol, mainly,” you replied. “At his worst, there were hard drugs, but I got him to tone it down just to weed every now and then.”

You bit at your thumbnail out of habit, but you forced yourself to stop, folding your hands in your lap. You didn’t see judgment in Colter’s eyes, just him taking in the information. You couldn’t help but glance at Dory, where you found her sympathy. She knew enough about what you’d been dealing with for the past few years. Russell seemed understanding as well. 

“Anything else I should know?” Colter asked. You shook your head. You felt bad about revealing Charlie’s business like this, but you knew it was the only way to help him. Still, you felt you had to defend him a little.

“Look, my brother has his problems, but he’s a good man,” you said. “He, um…he basically half raised me, after our parents died.”

Dory also knew this story. She rested a hand on your back, and you gave her what smile you could. 

“How old were you?” Russell asked. He earned your attention, and you met his sympathetic gaze.

“Fourteen,” you answered. “It was a car accident.”

He took that in, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry.”

The way he met your eyes when he said it, you believed him. You subtly cleared your throat and directed the conversation back.   

“So, I don’t have a lot of money. But I can give you something for your services,” you said to Colter. Both Russell and Dory met you with similar looks. 

“I’ve got it,” Dory says, before Russell had the chance. Colter waved her off though.

“In this case, it’s not necessary,” he said, focusing on you again. “So Charlie was working at the local museum?”

You breathed a note of relief at his generosity. Dory, Russell, and now Colter…they were all good people in their own way. You felt emotion rise in your throat.

“Yes, it’s about ten minutes away,” you managed to reply. “It’s closed now, but his coworker could be on shift. They always have security in place.”

You grabbed your purse to go with them when Colter and Russell stood, but the former raised a placating hand. 

“It’s best if you stayed here,” Colter said.

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.”

Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

“Ah, well, it’s really for your safety—”

“I’m not going to sit and wait,” you said. “That’s all I’ve been doing for months. I may not be an expert tracker, or have been in the army, but I do know my brother. And we are going to find him.”

Behind you, Dory was giving Colter a warning shake of her head. She knew just how stubborn you could be. Meanwhile, Russell came up on your other side with a smile.

“What’s the harm in her coming along to the museum?” he said, sliding his brother a teasing look. “Unless the T. rex wakes up all the mummies, Ben Stiller style.”

You wanted to point out that that wasn’t exactly the plot of Night at the Museum, but you held it in with a smile. You gave Colter an expectant look.

He sighed at Russell’s antics, but he turned to you with a nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said. 

“I’ll head home then,” said Dory. “Call me if you need anything.” 

You gave her a hug after she gathered up her purse. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, rubbing your back. “Colter’s the best.” 

“All right, fine. And what am I? Chopped liver?” Russell remarked, gesturing wide with his hands. You all filtered out of your house, and you locked the door behind you.  

“Oh, you’re special, all right,” Dory quipped back, but she gave her eldest brother a warm hug as well, then patted Colter on the arm before she left.

Russell shot Colter a playful smirk. “I got the hug.”

Colter rolled his eyes and pointed over to his big pickup truck. 

“Just get in the car, please.”

You had to smile at all their sibling teasing. It reminded you of how you and Charlie used to cut up, when things were good. On your way down the driveway, you hesitated by the Chevy Chevelle parked next to your own car. She was still black and sleek and beautiful.

You happened to glance up, and there was Russell, getting into his brother’s pickup. He winked at you across the driveway. You turned your face to hide your smile (and your blush) as you climbed into your car.

Colter noted the exchange when he buckled up into the driver’s seat. He watched Russell do the same on the passenger side, all while wearing a certain smile on his face. When he noticed how Colter was looking at him, his brows raised.

“What?” said Russell.

“What was that?” Colter asked.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Colter chuckled. He began to pull the car out of the driveway after you in your car, so he could follow you. “What, do you two have a thing or something? Is that why she called you before me?”

Russell shrugged, but his smile was telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm. Convincing,” Colter said, but his lips tugged upward as well. His good humor diminished though, when he considered the last time he saw his brother. “How’s the arm?”

Russell gave a thumbs up with his left arm—the one that previously had a bullet run through it. It was still healing, even now.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“Sure did.”

Riiiight. Another thing Colter wasn’t sure was the truth, but he’d give Russell that one.

“And that unfinished business?” Colter asked.

Russell’s smile faded, but he nodded. “Finished.”

After a moment, Colter nodded as well. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Something occured to him then. He paused, and he reached into his pocket. He held up a small, closed pocketknife with a wooden handle, and he gave it back to Russell. It had the man's name carved on the side.

Russell's smile returned as he flipped the old keepsake through his fingers.

"Thanks for keeping it safe for me," he said.

Colter smiled back. "Thanks for trusting me with it."

Colter parked next to you at the museum. It was closed, but the security guard, Jimmy, did know your brother. 

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed.

“He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.”

“Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

The front doors of the museum opened, and out came Dr. Feinman, your former boss, and the Head Manager. You left Jimmy’s questioning up to Russell and Colter with a meaningful look, and you went to intercept Feinman.

“Hi, sir, how’re you doing?” you asked. Your name fell from his lips in surprise. 

“My dear, it’s good to see you, but why are you here after hours?” he asked, his British accent lilting.

“I’m trying to find Charlie. He’s been missing, well, officially for about a week,” you said. “I was actually surprised to see you here so late.”

The man cleared his throat. He smoothed a hand over his tie and suit jacket.

“Yes, well, we could’ve used Charlie’s help. We’ve had to double our security efforts,” he said. “We’re currently dealing with a sensitive issue, so the museum will be closed until it is resolved.”

“You’re doubling your security efforts… Was something stolen?” you asked. 

Feinman clearly didn’t want to tell you this, but you knew you’d hit the nail on the head by the look on his face.

“Please, keep that information to yourself,” he said. 

“What was stolen?” you asked in concern. 

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information. Not even for you, dear,” he said. “I do hope you find your brother though.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and as a matter of fact,” you began, but Feinman waved an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m in a terrible rush just now. But call my office tomorrow and Brenda will help you with whatever you may need,” he said. “Good evening.”

“Wait, Dr. Feinman,” you tried, but he was already breezing past you and heading toward his Mercedes in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Colter and Russell weren’t having much better luck with Jimmy. 

“Look, I really don’t know where Charlie is,” he said. “Haven’t seen or heard from him since he took off.”

“He said you connected him with someone who could give him some work on the sly,” Russell said, leveling a hand at the man’s chest. “Who did you connect him with, and what kind of work are we talking?”

Jimmy blew out a breath, like this was really inconveniencing his day. (Or night, at this point.)

“What, you’ve got somewhere to be?” Colter said. “You’re getting paid to stand right here, and we have no problem sharing your shift all night. You might as well just tell us what we want to know.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance.

“All right,” he snapped. “I hooked him up with this guy I knew through a mutual acquaintance, who just needed some muscle. I guess you could call it private security.”

“A mutual acquaintance?” Colter repeated. 

“What’re you, James Bond? Who did you connect him with?” Russell pressed.

Jimmy was reluctant to talk. You came back over to join them, and the security guard became even more tight-lipped.

“You guys should go. I don’t have to talk to you, and I’ve got a job to do,” he said.

When he tried to continue his patrol around the museum, you stepped deliberately in his way. You didn’t have the patience for this, and you would no longer be a doormat, letting the Goldsteins and the Feinmans of this world push past you.

“Look, Jimmy, if you don’t give us something we can go on to find my brother, you know where I’m going to go?” you asked. But you spoke before he could respond. “To the police. And your name is the only one I have to give them. Now, if you don’t want that to be you, then give me a different name.”

Jimmy looked down at you, and then over at your intimidating shadows, Russell and Colter. Jimmy sighed.

“Eddie,” he gave, finally.

Russell raised his hands, as if to say, Is that it?

“What, Eddie Vedder? Eddie who? Come on,” Russell said.

“Eddie Mendez,” Jimmy replied in a lowered voice. “I don’t know where he lives. I don’t have his number. And that 'mutual acquaintance' is doing some time in lockup. But Eddie hangs out at a bar called Howley’s.”

You and Russell shared a meaningful look at that. You turned back to Jimmy. 

“Okay. What was stolen here at the museum?” you said. “That’s why it’s been closed, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “I wasn’t on shift, and Dr. Feinman keeps a tight lid on that kind of thing.”

“We’ll need to get into his office then,” Colter said. 

You blinked wider at Colter. Wait, was he really suggesting you guys break into the museum?

Jimmy pointed to the black device attached to the ceiling above them. 

“See the cameras?” he said. “That's not happening on my dime.”

Colter looked up, and he saw the cameras strategically installed across the front of the museum. 

“Then take us where the cameras don’t see,” he said.

You, Colter, and Russell were able to break into the museum via a storage unit door, thanks to Jimmy’s texted instructions. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but it was for Charlie, you reminded yourself.

You remembered where to find Feinman’s office. You paid for a lot of your undergrad expenses, namely your books and tuition, by working full-time as an office assistant here, and the occasional tour guide. 

You led them to the room where the inventory records were kept. Colter gave you his gloves so you didn’t leave prints, and you were able to pinpoint what was labelled as missing from the latest shipment. 

“Oh great,” you muttered. 

“What was taken?” Colter asked.

“A collection of Native American weapons. Dated almost eight hundred years old,” you said, shaking your head. “The collection is valued at $1.5 million dollars.”

Russell and Colter shared a look. 

“That’s some big motive,” Russell said. 

“When did they go missing?” Colter asked. 

“Almost two weeks ago,” you said. Your brows furrowed the more you read, as you realized something. “Just a few days before Charlie left the museum…” 

The timing wasn’t lost on anyone. But if Charlie was a suspect, Feinman hadn’t let on to that at all. You checked the exact date the artifacts went missing again: a Tuesday night. Charlie didn’t typically work on Mondays or Tuesdays, you realized. And he’d left after the artifacts went missing. So maybe they hadn’t thought to question him yet. One small blessing.  

You sighed. With that information gathered, the three of you put back everything you uncovered and left the building the same way you came in. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, probably patrolling the other end of the museum on purpose.

When you all made it back to the parking lot, you turned to Colter and Russell.

“Okay, what’s next?” you asked. “Howley’s right? To find Eddie.”

“Actually, I think it’s best Russell and I take it from here,” Colter said. “We don’t know what kind of character Eddie Mendez is, but from how reluctant Jimmy was to tell us, it doesn’t sound good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Russell drew closer and touched your arm. You could see in his face that he agreed with his brother, even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Look, you’ve been a huge help,” he said. “But let us work on this, okay? We’ll call you when we find something.”

Still, your lips pursed. “Russell, he’s my brother.”

“I know. Punching out drunks is one thing, but this might be a little different,” he said, grasping your arms gently. “Will you give me some peace of mind, knowing you’re home safe?”

He brushed one of his thumbs along your skin. Already you had goosebumps. From the cold chill on the air, or from him, you weren’t sure. But that simple touch, along with his earnest, imploring gaze broke you down.

“All right. I get it. I’m not the Special Ops guy,” you said. “But call me afterward so I know how it went.”

“Okay, will do,” Russell agreed. He let you go so you could go to your car. You shot the brothers one last look before you climbed in and peeled out of the parking lot.

Russell expelled a sigh of relief. He got into the passenger side of his brother’s pickup while Colter started it up.

Thanks to the late hour, and how little traffic there was on the road, it didn’t take you long to get home.

You’d debated whether you should just go to Howley’s anyway, but you didn’t want to get in the way, or make Russell worry for that matter. You smiled, despite yourself.

His touch had tingled across your arms, and whenever he absently laid a hand on the small of your back, supportive or guiding.

Thinking about him just made your heart ache. Because after this was over, he’d be gone again—on a new mysterious job, perhaps on the other side of the world.

You’d been regretting how you left things with him at the bar for months, but now you were glad you hadn’t gone any further with him that night. Your heart was too easily ensnared, it seemed, and Russell didn’t seem to be a “strings attached” kind of guy.

When you parked in front of your house, you let out a tense breath. Russell and Colter would find Charlie. You believed in them. You just hoped your brother was all right, wherever he was.

You pulled your cell out of your purse to call Dory as you headed for the front door. You wanted to give her an update and let her know that you were back at home.

The call began to ring just as you slipped your key into the lock. Unfortunately, you never got a chance to open it.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around you from behind and yanked you back, and a firm hand over your mouth smothered your scream.

AN: 🫣 *Whispers* Sorryyy. But hey! What did you think of the reader's reunion with Russell, as well as the little Shaw Family Reunion? Plus, we got a bit of the reader working with Russell and Colter on the case.

Now, the real timer starts...

Next Time:

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

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Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: drunk jason

Series masterlist

That evening, after Noah’s flight, your phone buzzed with a message from him. His words weren’t as distant as you’d expected, and you found yourself exhaling a quiet breath of relief.

Noah♡: We’ve landed! Everything’s good here so far.

You: Glad to hear. How’s the weather?

Noah♡: It’s a bit colder, but no big deal. I’ll survive.

Noah♡: How’s Luna doing?

You: She’s great.

You: We’re having fun. No worries here.

Noah♡: That’s good to hear

Noah♡:Hope she’s not getting into too much trouble

You: She’s been perfect. Just finished watching cartoons.

Noah♡: Nice!

Noah♡: Well, I guess I’ll let you go

Noah♡: Catch you later

Noah♡: Bye

There was no "I love you" at the end of his message, something that would’ve been so automatic just days ago. But somehow, it didn’t feel like a cold goodbye. It felt like he needed a bit more space, and maybe you did, too. You held the phone in your hands for a moment longer, letting that thought settle.

You: bye! Have a good show.

You sent the last text.

The rest of the evening passed as smoothly as expected. Luna’s energy and creative stories kept you both occupied, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a while. She told you a wild story about how Mr. Flop had to fight off Broccoli Man, who had been stealing all the vegetables in his garden, trying to turn them into broccoli soldiers to take over the world.

The entire thing was ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Mr. Flop is really strong, though, right?" Luna asked as she leaned closer to you, "Like daddy!"

"Of course, he’s a superhero." you replied with a grin, "Mr. Flop, not Noah."

Luna nodded seriously. "He’s going to save the universe from Broccoli Man! And then everyone will be able to eat all the strawberries and carrots they want!"

You laughed softly, gently tapping her nose. "I think you’re right. That’s a pretty good plan."

Luna beamed and threw herself back onto the pillows, giggling. "And then he can fly to the moon!"

"Why not?" you said, settling next to her. "He’s Mr. Flop. He can do anything."

Luna snuggled into the blankets on the couch, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay awake. "And he’ll get all the carrots in the world." she mumbled.

"I think it's time to go to sleep for someone."

"Mh. Who? Not me."

"Actually I think it's you." You laughed as you picked her up and brought her to her bedroom.

Luna, however, didn't give up right away and insisted until it was your turn to create a story. You came up with a tale about a family made up of a big but kind bear (inspired by Noah), his daughter, a rabbit (obviously Luna), and a cat who was, of course, you.

It was so silly and Luna giggled the whole time, until her eyes started to close.

You softly brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Sweet dreams, Luna," you whispered.

"Mhm," she hummed, already drifting into sleep, "Goodnight."

After Luna fell asleep, you quietly slipped out of her room. You took a moment to pause outside her door, listening to the soft sound of her breathing before making your way into Noah’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made, but as soon as you climbed under the covers, the familiar scent of Noah’s pillow surrounded you. It smelled like him—faintly of cologne, warmth, and something distinctly him.

For a brief moment, you let yourself linger in the comfort of it, breathing deeply as you settled into his space.

You lay there, your mind racing. Thoughts of Noah and the tension between you both circled in your mind. But as you tried to clear your head, you focused on the rhythm of your breathing and the warmth of the bed surrounding you.

Things were still up in the air, uncertain, but for now, you hoped everything would work out. Maybe Noah just needed time to process everything, to clear his mind. You knew he loved you.

With that thought, you closed your eyes, letting sleep gently take over. You thought about the way he’d said goodbye, the way his hand lingered on your back before he left for the show, and the way he had smiled, though it felt a little strained.

You had a weird feeling in your stomach and conflicting thoughts in your head.

You wanted to believe that the time away, even if only two days, would help both of you figure things out.

Maybe things would be okay. Maybe this space would give him the time he needed to work through the mess of feelings he had. You just hoped that when he came back, things between you would be a bit different—better. That he would understand that Jason was part of your past.

You drifted off, letting the night surround you, hoping everything would fall into place. The silence in the room felt comforting, and you whispered to the empty space next to you, "Everything will be fine. We’ll make it work, Noah. I know we will."

You closed your eyes and fell into a deep sleep, the thought of Noah lingering in your dreams.

“This is his city, Jo,” Erika said to her friend, almost in awe, gesturing around with a wide sweep of her hand as the two walked through the city center. “Can you believe it? This is where Noah fucking Sebastian lives."

I mean, I can’t even process it! I’ve been a fan for so long, and now I’m actually here... in the city where he fucking lives.” She grinned, practically glowing with the thought of it. “I just hope we spot him while we’re here, like... just walking around or something. You know, like fate. He’s gotta be back in town in a couple of days, right? After that concert I was too slow to get the tickets for."

Jo, who had been listening with half an ear, couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Yeah, sure. You’re totally gonna run into him and play it cool, right?”

Erika shot her a playful glare. “What? What do you mean ‘play it cool’? Like, I’m supposed to act casual about it?”

Jo raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if to mock Erika’s dramatic flair. “Well, yeah, I'm sure you would start screaming like you lost your mind.”

Erika’s eyes widened. “Pfft, honestly? I would totally scream. What if we’re just walking down the street, and he... like, just walks by us? Imagine if we catch him going to the grocery store or something. We’d just—”

“Freak out? Like a total sane person would do?” Jo teased.

“Uh, yeah. I’d probably lose my mind. You don’t even understand. Imagine me yelling out his name when I see him walking past us.”

Jo sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You’re such a fangirl, Erika.”

“Guilty,” Erika admitted, smiling widely. But then her grin faltered for just a moment. “I mean, imagine though, if we actually do run into him. Like, what if... what if he doesn’t look like a god on earth in person? What if he’s all... unshowered or something? Would I love him less? Probably not, honestly."

Jo chuckled, but then her expression shifted slightly. “Wait. Isn’t he... isn’t he in a relationship right now?”

Erika’s face lit up as she leaned in to gossip. “Yeah, apparently. You’ve seen him holding hands with that girl in the pics I showed you, right? I mean, she’s cute, but... it’s Noah fucking Sebastian we’re talking about here. Everyone thought he was gonna stay single forever after the big break up with his ex. But nope, turns out he’s taken now. But you know what the fans are saying, right?”

Jo rolled her eyes again, though this time there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her tone. “What, are the fans still convinced they’re gonna break up? I swear, Twitter is just full of delusional people.”

Erika’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hey, I’m on Twitter too, you know.”

Jo smirked. “I know.”

“So you know the vibe,” Erika said with a shrug, her grin returning. “I’m just saying, Twitter’s pretty sure they won’t last. I mean, they’re like, ‘Noah’s gonna wake up and realize he can’t be tied down, blah blah.’ You know the drill.”

Jo snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, because Twitter has such a good track record when it comes to relationships.”

“Hey, sometimes they’re right,” Erika said. “There’s always some truth to the madness.”

Jo shook her head exasperation, but there was a bit of amusement in her eyes. “Alright, fine. Whatever. Let’s just hope you don’t have to chase him down the street screaming.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Erika winked, and Jo just laughed.

They continued walking for a while, Erika practically floating on her own excitement. “I know he’s not in town right now, though,” she repeated, her voice suddenly quieter. “But hopefully, he’ll be back soon, and I’ll get the chance to run into him. I mean, we’re here for a whole week. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be lucky.”

Jo gave her a teasing look. “So you’re gonna hang around for a week, hoping he’ll just pop up out of nowhere?”

“Well, yeah. What’s the worst that could happen?” Erika grinned, her optimism unchanged. “If fate wants us to meet, it’ll happen. And if not, well, at least I can say I was in his city.”

Jo rolled her eyes playfully. “You're hopeless.”

Erika shrugged with a smile. “What can I say? It’s Noah fucking Sebastian. A girl can dream.”

"Maybe you'll meet his girlfriend."

"God, don't make me think about that."

As they continued walking through the city streets, Erika couldn’t help but imagine all the ways she might accidentally run into Noah. Maybe it wouldn’t be today, but she’d hold onto the hope that someday, somehow, she’d get that moment of fate.

And, if that moment did come, she’d make sure she was ready to scream.

The morning sunlight poured in through the windows, casting soft beams across Noah's living room, where you and Luna were sitting on the carpet. The air was warm, the peaceful hum of the quiet house making it feel like an ordinary, calm morning.

Luna, her dark hair tied back into a little ponytail, was sitting cross-legged beside you. Her tiny hands were busy, gathering the colorful perlite beads, placing them neatly in front of you both. She handed you a strand of elastic thread, her eyes wide with concentration as she carefully picked up the beads one by one.

"Here, these are for your bracelet." she said softly as she passed you a little pile of pink beads.

"Thanks, Lu," you replied, taking the beads from her hand and threading them onto the string, forming a delicate bracelet. Luna had decided you two should make matching ones, with one for you and one for her. But when she had asked, if you could also make one for Noah when he came home, you had agreed with a warm smile. The thought of the three of you having a tiny shared piece of something meant so much to you, more than you could explain.

She glanced up at you, her brown eyes focused and intent on your every movement as you worked on the bracelet.

"I like this one," Luna said quietly, as she looked at you working on it. "Very pretty."

"You can keep it for you, if you want," you replied, your voice soft as you gave her a reassuring smile.

"No, no. It's for you. You need a pretty bracelet too."

"Alright." You chuckled.

You continued working side by side in peace, you made some comments about how hard it actually was and Luna laughed every time.

She passed you the beads to make Noah's bracelet too, some were white and some pink. You laughed at the idea of Noah wearing it.

After a while, you finished with the last few beads of Noah's bracelet, tying the ends of the threads and holding it up. "See? We all have matching ones. He's gonna love it."

"I love them too! They are all so cute!"

Luna’s eyes sparkled as she reached out to take her bracelet from you. You carefully tied it around her little wrist, making sure it was just the right size. She looked down at it with a sense of satisfaction, before lifting her arm up to show it off.

"Y/N," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "Thank you for making these with me."

You smiled at her words, your heart melting just a little at the simplicity of it all. "It was fun, Luna. I’m happy we made them together."

Then, you put your own bracelet on the left Noah's one on the coffee table.

The two of you sat back for a moment, admiring your handiwork. The quiet was comfortable, peaceful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or big moments. It was just the two of you, making something simple, yet meaningful, that made you feel even more part of the family.

During the early afternoon, the air was just enough chill to feel refreshing but not too cold to keep you indoors. Luna was beside you, skipping along the sidewalk as you made your way to the café. She had been asking for the cookies there all morning, and you’d promised her you’d get some.

"Luna, don’t run off too far!" you called as she darted ahead, her tiny legs moving with a quickness that matched her energy.

"I'm just going to see if I can spot the cookies through the window!" she called back over her shoulder, already well ahead of you.

You arrived at the café, the familiar jingle of the door opening greeting you as you stepped inside, already feeling the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries wrapped around you. Luna headed straight for the display case, eyeing the rows of cookies.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Grace’s voice came from behind the counter, dripping with sarcasm. She didn’t even glance up from her phone. "I thought you weren’t coming in today."

You sighed inwardly, already knowing where this was going. "Hey, I told you I was gonna stay with Luna for a couple of days. But she wanted the cookies."

Grace scoffed, still not bothering to look at you. "Yeah yeah."

Luna, blissfully unaware of Grace’s sharp tone, pointed to the cookies on the counter, eager to get her hands on the treats. Grace grumbled under her breath as she grabbed a jar of cookies, setting them down on a plate.

"Here. Your usual."

"Thanks, Grace," you replied, a little too sweetly, grabbing the cookies from the counter and leading Luna to a table by the window. She plopped down happily, already tearing into one of her cookies.

After a few moments, Grace walked over to your table, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms across her chest. "So, how’s the rockstar boyfriend of yours?" she asked.

You raised an eyebrow, already preparing for the usual jabs. "He’s fine."

Grace leaned in a little closer, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Really? That’s it? Just fine?" She paused, her tone laced with amusement.

You clenched your jaw but tried to keep your cool. "Yeah, he’s fine. He texted me a couple of times, he seemed chill. Maybe the distance helped calming the waters. He’ll be home tomorrow morning."

Grace chuckled, scanning your face as though she were trying to pick out any crack in your calm exterior. "Well, alright. But- oh. Look who's there!"

You turned around to the sound of a familiar voice calling your name. Standing in the doorway of the café, was Jason. He gave you a slight no and a little smile, but you could almost see the tension in his posture. However, you noticed the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

"Hey," he called, walking toward you.

"Jason." you said.

It's not the right moment, it will never be the right one. You wanted to say. But the words died in your throat.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice low but urgent.

"Jason-"

"Please."

You hesitated for a moment, then you stepped away from the table, walking a few paces toward Jason, keeping a cautious distance between you both. You casted a quick glance over your shoulder at Grace, who was chatting with Luna at the table.

"Alright," you said. You didn’t know what this conversation would bring.

You could hear Grace talking to Luna in the background, her voice casual but with an odd warmth to it.

"...Your eyes are so big and pretty, you know that?" Grace’s voice drifted over to you, and you found yourself smiling a bit. You couldn't deny that Grace had her sharp moments, but you always knew there was more to her—more than just the snarky attitude and sarcasm. You never really understood what had made her so cold, but you knew she wasn't actually a bad person. She just had a way of hiding it.

Focusing back on Jason, you tried to push aside the strange feeling that had crept into your chest. "What’s up?" you asked, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

Jason took a breath before speaking, his gaze locking with yours, blue eyes staring right into your soul. "I—" He paused, as if weighing his words carefully. "I can’t stop thinking about you. Since I got back into town, it's like I never left. And I know things ended, but I need to tell you the truth."

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a calm smile. So Noah was right. "Jason, I'm happy with Noah," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "He's—he's good to me, and things are really good right now. I’ve moved on."

A little part of the sentence was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. Things weren't "really good" but they were going to be.

Jason's eyes dropped for a moment, and when they met yours again, they were filled with something raw. "I get it. You’re happy. But I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was when we... when we ended things. It hurts, seeing you with someone else, but I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I still care about you, Y/N."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pull—the one that had once made you believe you could fix things between you two. You swallowed hard, shaking your head softly. "I’m happy, Jason. I’m really happy with Noah. I... I think you need to move on, too."

Jason stared at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It’s hard," he muttered. "But I get it. I just wanted you to know."

You gave him a small nod, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. But it didn’t change anything. "I’m glad to hear you’ve changed, Jason. But this is my life now."

With that, you turned on your heel, walking back to the table. You could feel Jason's gaze still on your back as you went, and when you reached Grace and Luna, you tried to put on a brave face. Grace raised an eyebrow when she saw the look on your face, but Luna didn't notice anything amiss, still happily munching on her cookie.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He left without another word, disappearing into the street, and the door of the tattoo shop slammed shut behind him.

Grace gave you a questioning look, but didn’t pry. Instead, she shrugged casually. "Everything alright?"

You took a breath, trying to shake off the weird tension that had filled the air. "Yeah, it’s fine. Let’s just eat."

Jason slammed the door of the tattoo shop behind him, the quiet hum of the neon sign above flickering as the shop fell into a tense, suffocating silence. He walked toward the counter, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw grinding with frustration. Rick, still sitting where Jason left him before going to the cafè, glanced up at the noise, raising an eyebrow at the storm brewing inside his friend.

"Jesus, man. It didn't work out?" Rick asked, his tone low but laced with curiosity.

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slammed his fist down on the counter, the wood groaning under the force of the impact. Rick flinched, his eyes widening, but he didn’t move. He’d seen Jason angry before, but tonight was different. This wasn’t the usual frustration; this was something deeper, more explosive.

After a moment of silence Rick tried again, playing with a pin on his leather jacked with his hands.

"She fucking shut me down, Rick," Jason growled, his voice shaking with rage. "I had it all planned out! I was going to tell her those bullshits, show her that I’m not the same guy I was when we broke up. I thought, maybe, if I played it right, she'd—"

Jason cut himself off with a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his short light brown hair. He kicked a chair out of his way and began pacing back and forth across the floor, his eyes wild with frustration. Rick just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching his friend unravel.

"But she didn’t bite," Jason muttered darkly. "She just fucking shut me down, like it was nothing! No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just—'I’m happy with Noah.' Like I didn’t even matter!"

Rick let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he spoke again. His voice was steady, as if trying to cut through the storm of Jason’s anger. "So, what do you wanna do now? You can’t just sit around pissed off about it. She made her choice, man."

Jason’s gaze snapped toward Rick, eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and fury. He slammed his fist into the counter again, this time harder, the sound of wood cracking under the pressure ringing out in the big space. "What the fuck do you think I’m supposed to do, huh? Let it go? Just walk away and pretend this didn't happen? I can't lose! Jason Clarke can never lose! You hear me? He cannot!" He tapped his index to his temple a few times while shouting like he was trying to spat out everything that was going on his mind at the moment.

"You could just try to move on too," Rick said with a shrug. "I mean, she told you. She’s happy with Noah. Maybe it’s time to face facts."

Jason’s eyes narrowed. "No," he spat, stepping closer to Rick, his voice a low growl now. "I’m not just gonna let it go. I want her. I fucking need her" He paused, his fists flexing at his sides. "I want her to want me again."

Rick’s expression softened for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. Jason’s eyes darted to the closed sign hanging in the window and the empty tattoo chairs around them. The weight of the silence pressed down on him, but then something shifted in his eyes—a flicker of realization.

He stood still for a moment, staring at Rick, his mind working at a pace that seemed almost dangerous. The anger faded, replaced by a sly, almost mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Rick asked cautiously, already suspecting what was coming. It was going to involve him too, he was sure.

"Rick, my brother" he said, his voice dropping to a more dangerous tone, "you free tonight?"

It was late, well past midnight, when you finally decided to lie down. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floors beneath the weight of the night. You had just finished watching My Neighbor Totoro with Luna, who, despite her attempts to fight sleep, was already tucked into bed, clutching Mr. Flop tightly, in her soft pink pajamas.

She had asked if her dad would be home tomorrow, to which you had softly replied, "When you wake up, you dad will already be here."

That was enough to comfort her, and now, the house was dark and quiet.

You slid under the covers, trying to ignore the unease still lingering from the earlier conversation with Jason. But you tried not to think about him. Just relax, Y/N. You’re with Noah now.

But then came the sound.

At first, you thought it was just the wind—the soft, eerie whisper of the trees outside—but then, you heard it again. A light scrape, then a thud.

"Fuck." Someone muttered.

You hesitated for a moment, listening. It was unmistakable now.

Someone was out there.

Your heart skipped a beat as you slowly got out of bed, your bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. You tiptoed to the window, the one that overlooked the porch. You peered through the curtains, and for a split second, you thought you were imagining it, but there he was.

Jason.

He was standing on your porch, swaying slightly, his body unsteady as he gripped the railing for support. The faint glow of the porch light caught the bottle in his hand. He was drunk.

Drunk? He looked completely wasted.

Your heart raced. Why was he there? It was well past one in the morning.

You rushed to the door, flung it open without thinking, and before you could say a word, Jason stumbled over, nearly knocking into you.

"Y/N," he slurred, his eyes blurry, "I love you. I... I love you."

You froze, taken aback by his words. The heat of his body, the stench of alcohol, and the recklessness of his presence hit you all at once, you put a hand on his chest to slightly push him away and to avoid a possible fall. "What the hell are you doing here?" you spat. "It’s fucking late and you are drunk. Go home."

Jason shook his head, his eyes glassy. He reached for you, his voice pleading, "My friend... he played a joke on me. Left me out here. I don’t know where to go. Please... let me in."

You felt your stomach drop as you looked him over. He was shivering in a light jacket, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to steady himself. The chill of the night air was sharp and biting, and he looked like he might collapse any second.

"Jason I- God. I fucking hate you."

"Mh... please." He mumbled.

You didn’t know what to do. Every fiber of your being told you to shut the door, to send him away. This isn’t your problem. But your conscience—your heart—had other plans.

You took the bottle from his hand and put it on the ground, then stepped aside, grabbing him by his jacket as he swayed again, and helped him inside, closing the door behind you with a click.

"God, Jason," you muttered, glaring at him as you took in his disheveled state. "What the hell were you thinking? You’re drunk off your ass, and it’s freezing outside. How do you even fucking know where Noah lives?"

Jason didn’t respond right away. Instead, he collapsed onto the couch with a defeated sigh, his eyes half-lidded. "You’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice soft. "Even without makeup... in your pajamas."

You rolled your eyes. "This is so messed up. This is so fucking messed up. You can’t just show up here like this. Do you have someone to call?"

"Someone to... I don't have anyone."

"Be serious."

"I swear. My only friend is the one who left me in the middle of the street."

"Jesus Christ. Jason you... fuck you, Jason. For real. Noah’s going to be back in the morning. You need to leave before then. Got it?"

Jason nodded, but you could see the drunken fog in his eyes, clouding any attempt at sincerity. "I’ll leave," he slurred. "I promise. Before Noah gets here... I’ll go."

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He shouldn’t be here. But you didn't even know where he lived and couldn't even drive him there.

"You should have never come," you hissed, rubbing your temples in frustration. "Why would you think this is okay? It's Noah's house! His daughter is sleeping in her bedroom right now!"

Jason blinked slowly, a smile tugging at his lips despite his condition. "You didn’t leave me out there," he muttered, as if that was some great revelation. "That’s what I always liked about you. You’ve got a good heart."

Before you could respond, Jason’s words trailed off, his body slumping further against the couch. His breathing deepened, and within moments, the rhythmic sound of snoring filled the room.

You stood there for a moment, watching him, trying to process what had just happened. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Jason, drunk, and seeking comfort from you, was far from what you had imagined.

That was crazy. You didn't want him there. He shouldn’t have been there.

But despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to just leave him outside. He was still human, still someone you had cared for, once. And that damn heart of yours... Maybe I’m too soft, you thought bitterly. Maybe I’m too kind.

You sat down on the couch next to him, unable to ignore the wave of conflicting emotions that washed over you. You didn’t want him here, didn’t want to help him. But the truth was, you couldn’t leave him there, not when he was like this.

It was wrong. So wrong. He was in Noah's house.

So so fucking wrong.

But what else could you do?

As you sat in the dim light of the living room, your gaze locked on Jason’s peaceful face.

Almost like the old times.

This was a mistake.

You didn’t know how to fix this. You didn’t know if it could be fixed.

And as the hours stretched on, you were left alone with your thoughts, the sound of Jason's snoring filling the empty spaces between your anxieties as you were still sitting on the couch, processing everything.

Tomorrow would come, Jason would leave and Noah would be back, and everything would change again.

But for tonight, Jason was here.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

Erika and Jo stumbled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing through the quiet streets. The night had been a blast, full of music, drinks, and dancing, and they were finally going to the apartment they rented for their vacation.

"Seriously, though," Erika laughed, wiping a tear from her eye, "did you see that guy trying to dance? I swear, I thought his legs were gonna give out."

Jo chuckled, adjusting her jacket against the cool evening air. "Oh my god, I thought the same thing. He looked like he was having some kind of seizure. But you have to admit, he was really trying. Respect for that."

"Yeah, yeah, he was trying," Erika laughed. "Trying to give us secondhand embarrassment. But it was kind of adorable."

They walked in silence for a few moments, the streetlights casting soft halos on the sidewalk, until Erika suddenly froze in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed, her grin faltering as she stared down the street.

Jo, still walking, bumped into her and almost knocked her over. "Erika? What’s up?"

Erika didn’t answer immediately, still focused on something a little further up the road. She pointed towards a house, a slight tension in her voice now. "Wait... Jo. Look over there. Is that...?"

Jo squinted in the direction Erika was gesturing to, where a porch light illuminated a figure standing outside a front door, speaking to someone.

"No way," Erika muttered, her breath catching in her throat. "That’s—"

"What? Who?" Jo asked, frowning. "That’s just a girl... opening her door at... what time is it?"

Erika’s eyes were wide with disbelief, but there was no mistaking the recognition in her voice. "No, Jo. That can’t be... That’s her. That’s Noah’s girlfriend."

Jo stared at her in confusion. "What? Are you serious right now?"

Erika’s heart was pounding in her chest. She pulled out her phone, her fingers shaking slightly as she zoomed in on the scene. The girl was talking animatedly to the guy standing in front of her—no, not just any guy—this guy was tall, attractive, with messy hair, and he seemed way too close to the girl on her porch. But it was you Erika was focused on.

"Look!" Erika hissed, thrusting the phone towards Jo. "Look at her! It’s totally fucking her. Look at her hair. Oh my god. I know it’s her."

Jo blinked and took the phone, squinting at the picture. "I don’t know, Erika. Are you sure? She looks a little different than in the photos... and it’s kind of dark, so—"

"I’m telling you, Jo!" Erika almost whispered, her voice tight with excitement. "It’s her! I’ve seen her in those pictures online a million times. It’s definitely her."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but... what about the guy? That doesn’t look like Noah."

Erika’s gaze hardened. "I don’t know who he is, but it sure as hell isn’t Noah."

Jo crossed her arms, uncertainty creeping in. "Erika, don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions a little? It’s the middle of the night. You can’t just—"

"Shh!" Erika cut her off, practically hissing as she lowered her voice. "I’m not missing this. I need proof."

Before Jo could protest, Erika started recording the scene on her phone. The porch light illuminated the two figures clearly now, and Erika focused the lens. You were still talking to the guy, though Erika couldn’t hear the words from this distance, but the exchange looked... intimate. Too intimate. He was close to you and at some point, your hand was on his chest.

"What the hell, Erika?" Jo whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of concern. "You really shouldn’t be recording this. It’s none of our business."

"Are you kidding me?" Erika scoffed, not taking her eyes off the screen. "This is totally our business. People need to know about this. You’re just jealous because I’m about to break the internet."

Jo shook her head in disbelief. "You're insane. You know this could cause trouble, right?"

Erika shot her a look, one part playful and one part defiant. "Trouble? Jo, come on. People love drama. Imagine the reactions on Twitter when I post this. It's going to blow up. You know they’ll go wild over this. Everyone is obsessed with Noah's love life right now."

Jo rolled her eyes. "You’re unbelievable. Do whatever you want."

Erika laughed, her attention still fixed on the screen. "You’ll thank me when this goes viral. Now get ready for some real fangirl action."

As she kept recording, Erika couldn’t help but smile to herself, despite the nagging feeling in her gut. She didn’t know why, but something about this whole scene felt... off. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop herself from capturing it. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got this close to the drama of Noah fucking Sebastian’s personal life.

And if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that this was a moment she couldn’t afford to miss.

Twitter was gonna love it.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog @whenyouwannafindlove @chey-h @kenjipepsi1

[sailornymph]

‘F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME’

how the uchiha men are in bed

cw : nsfw, choking, slapping, etc…

authorsnote : hi everyone and welcome, i hope you enjoy, please stick around for more. 

♡︎ madara uchiha

— at least 8.5 inches, all uchiha men give third leg energy

— he’s really loud, he moans, grunts, calls out your name; anyone passing by could probably hear him, he doesn’t have any shame

— he loves cowgirl, he likes women who are strong like him and he enjoys watching you show him how much you could take

— loves to fuck your face after a long day

— he’s not into foreplay and not much of a eater, but his fingers, they’ll make your toes curl everytime

— he is rough, but with care, asking you if you’re okay, how does it feel, are you ready

— he may be a warrior and clan leader but in the safety of his home with his wife, he is a gentleman

— he’s okay at aftercare, it’s usually you catering to him and he tends to you along the way. if you were to run him bath water, he invites you in and you’ll bath each other

“-just like that,” madara grunted, holding your hip, his other hand exploring all over your body. you were grinding your hips, and it mostly only felt good for you, but watching you was enough to keep him hard.

“madara, fuck me harder,” you whined, gasping then laughing in excitement as his hands instructed you to bounce.

“oh baby, rougher please, fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you panted. your lustful words were enough to make him give in.

madara helped you as you continued to bounce, this time, he made sure you felt every inch, moaning louder every time you took all of him. leaning up, he took your nipple in his mouth. your hands tangled in his messy hair, as you held him closer.

“you’re going to make me cum,” you cried to him.

“cum all over me,” he groaned, going back to sucking your breast.

“yesyesyesyesyes, i’m cummimg, i’m cumming,” you cried out, but he pulled you close, kissing your lips and muffling the lucid noises.

you continued to moan, slowly grinding your hips, as he slapped your ass, squeezing it. his seed squirted all over your walls and you didn’t pull him out like usual, just continuing to grind your hips. once you were satisfied and stopped, he pulled himself out, wrapping his arms around your body.

“the others probably heard us, we were so loud,” you shook your head in embarrassment.

“i doubt it, we were louder last time,” he sighed, thinking of last time he came home from a mission and the two of you went at it for hours.

meanwhile, outside of his home, a few clansmen passed the house, all having horrified expressions.

“lord madara is a very passionate man,” one of the young shinobi said, their face crimson.

“we’ll have an heir in no time with those two,” izuna laughed, turning to leave.

♡︎ itachi uchiha

— 7. 5 inches and is on the girthier side

— low airy moans and sweet words

— missionary so he can see your pretty face or riding him, while he hugs you closely

— this man is an eater and a master with his fingers

— he could lick on your beautiful pussy all night, your cum coating his fingers and he would be content

— he doesn't ask for oral but is fine with it if you initiate

— he is incredibly gentle with you, treating you as if you are fragile and could easily break at the slightest touch

— as his health is declining, sex doesn't happen as much as it used to, but when he has the courage and strength, he wants to make sure it is slow and precious, making the night rememberable for both of you

— the aftercare king, you won't have to lift a finger, he will take care of you and everything else

“i’m cumming,” you moaned lowly, your leg lifted onto itachi’s shoulder. he had been at it for almost an hour now. you were past your third orgasm and didn't understand how his tongue had the strength to keep going.

“you’re so sweet, angel,” he complimented, kissing your inner thighs, as your body twitched. as the reaction wore off, he lowered his head, ready to eat some more, but you shook your head, pulling him onto the bed.

“i’m ready for more,” you said, as he kissed your lips. falling backward into the pillows, you watched as he took off his clothing.

“i love you, angel,” he said, kissing your collarbone.

“i love you too,” you cooed, as he kissed your lips next.

pushing his cock into your cunt, you both moaned, before he moved his head to start kissing your neck.

“i don’t want to make love tonight,” you said, catching him off guard.

“i want you to fuck me like you’re mad at me, just this once, a little rougher,” you encouraged, as he hesitantly nodded.

“if it hurts we’ll stop immediately,” he said, as you nodded, biting your lip.

planting his hands on the sides of your head, he began thrusting. your voice getting louder, as you moaned. the bed frame hitting the wall repeatedly. he was thankful that you lived in the small cottage a good distance from anyone so that no one could hear the noises you were letting out.

“do you like that, angel?” he asked, smirking as you nodded, before begging for more.

placing a hand around your throat, he lightly squeezed, as he spread your legs more with his free hand. you could feel your cunt stretching more and more, making room for every inch he had to give and you loved every minute of it.

“are you going to cum for me, princess?”

“yesyesyes, please make me cum on your cock,” you moaned to him, as he continued thrusting, his hair covering his face.

“it feels so good,” you continued, hungrily grinding your hips.

“fuck,” Itachi hissed, grabbing your hips. he was cumming hard.

“i feel all of it, inside of me,” you giggled, grinding your hips more before you came.

“i don't think i’ve ever came that fast before,” he admitted, burying his face in your breast, taking in your scent.

“perhaps we can do it like that more often,” you suggested.

“perhaps, but we’ll have to come up with a safe word,” he offered. he was always thinking of your wellbeing.

“oh itachi”

♡︎ indra ōtsutsuki

— he’s a big dick meanie having about 9 inches

— he is a dirty talker, calling you everything under the sun but a child of god

— he’s a misogynistic and it will show how he talks to you

— doggystyle! he loves backshots so he can push your face further down, spanking your ass until it’s sore

— lightly slapping your face, holding your nose as he fucks your mouth

— he doesn’t really like you, but you’re his wife, meaning that you are meant to be used by him any way that he sees fit, right?

— he is rough, tossing you around like you are nothing but his personal doll

— he isn’t into aftercare, if anything, it is you who should be offering to care for him because it is your role as his wife to cater to him

“lord indra,” you called out, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, as you stood outside his bedroom.

“what is it?” he asked coldly, he sat legs crossed, obviously trying to meditate.

“i wanted to…i wanted to ask if you if-

“spit it out woman,” he scolded.

“i wanted to ask if you could fuck me,” you said, clenching your thighs together. he hadn’t touched you in weeks, despite you being on your best behavior.

“you really are a whore, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“yes, my lord,” you nodded, as he finally looked at you. your kimono was slightly open, nothing underneath.

“come here,” he tilted his head at you.

hastily you rushed over, falling to your knees, as he stood up. it took all of your willpower to not reach and touch yourself. he looked at you with disgust, but a hint of interest.

“you left your room dressed this way, what if someone else saw you? but you want another man to see your body, don't you?” he roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“no, my lord, i only want you,” you moaned.

“right, to fuck you?”

“yes, my lord, i want you to fuck me like you're mad at me,” you plead, as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. he didn't say anything, pulling his hand back, before slapping your cheek.

“you slut, you interrupted me to satisfy your sexual urges, i'll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll think twice about asking again,” he said, as you nodded.

“please punish me,” you begged, nearly moaning as he tore your kimono open. slapping your breast a few times, he opened his kimono, pumping his pink cock.

“open your mouth, bitch,” he said, thrusting into your warm mouth. humming, he grabbed a handful of your hair.

reaching down to rub your clit, you gasp as he yanked your head backward, slapping your cheek.

“did i say you could touch your pussy?” he said, watching as you quickly moved your hands back up, caressing his abdomen and sides, as he went back to fucking your throat.

you were perfect, taking his length like you were supposed to. he had trained you amazingly, from an inexperienced virgin to a slutty housewife, but he would never tell you that. you didn't need to know that you were doing a good job, it would only go to your head.

instead like always, he pulled out of your mouth, grunting a few times as his cum spilled all over your breast.

“thank you, my lord, it tasted so good,” you praised him, before turning around, putting your face against the floor, your ass in the air. sending a slap to your ass, you winced.

“you have a lot of nerve, you stupid whore, bothering me, i should fuck you until you can't walk,” he frowned, slapping your ass again, then again, and again. the pain mixed with pleasure only made your pussy more wet.

pushing his cock into your wet hole, his hands immediately went to your waist. you moaned, lifting your head, but he slapped your ass, pushing your face back onto the floor.

“your pussy is so wet and tight for me, all mine, only mine if you ever cheat on me, i’ll kill them, all of them, you wait until i’m ready to fuck this little cunt, i don't care how long you have to wait,” he said, thrusting in and out of your sweet pussy.

“y-yes, my lord, only yours,” you struggled to speak, squeezing your kimono. as he sped up his pace, you began pulling away from him, but he held you close, as he kept fucking into you.

“stop running, you wanted this, so take it, bitch,” he ordered.

“it's too much,” you whined.

“you interrupted me about getting fucked and now it's too much, it's too late for all of that,” he said, as you moaned loudly.

“oh, kami, i’m cumming,” you cried, clenching around him, as your body jerked at the sensation.

you were hopeful that he would finally cum inside. you had been married for almost two years with still no heir. asuma told you he has overheard indra tell their father it was because neither of you was ready for it.

pulling out, he pumped himself, grunting as the semen sprayed all over your ass and lower back. pushing away the nerve-wracking voice in your mind, whining about how he had yet to cum in you, you sat on the back of your legs facing him.

“thank you, lord Indra, you’ve been very generous to me,” you bowed, going to stand, when your legs gave out. before you could hit the floor, his hand guilelessly went to your waist, catching you.

“sorry,” you nervously laughed.

“you can stay tonight,” he said, his face showing no emotions.

“really?” you smiled, excited.

“i need a bath, and you do too, so crawl,” he said, watching as you nodded, actually crawling to the bathroom.

he could forget at times how much he secretly enjoyed having a dumb slutty wife.

♡︎ obito uchiha

— 8 inch loverboy

— a whimpering mess, he is touch starved and now that he has someone who loves him as much as he loves them, he easily becomes a mess

— this man is a freak, he is doing any and everything, as long as he gets to do it with you

— loves early morning blowjobs, tasting your pretty pussy, mutual masturbation, he just wants to touch and be touched by you

— he is versatile, sometimes he is gentle, sometimes he is manhandling your body

— he loves foreplay and is always willing to try new things, you want to try anal, he will make sure the prep is perfect, you want to roleplay? he’ll even dress up as whatever if you ask

— he never thought aftercare was important until he got with you and now he caters to you

— behind the villain is a soft boi who just wants to love you and treat you like the queen you are

“you scared me,” you jumped, noticing obito. he still wasn’t used to you living with him and oftentimes appeared without making his presence known.

“sorry, love,” he said, taking off his cloak, watching as you approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“how was your day?”

“i accomplished a few things, you?”

“boring and lonely,” you pouted, as he turned to face you, his hand going down to cup your ass.

“maybe i can help fix that, now that i’m here?” he proposed.

“please do”

“how can i help with this boredom and loneliness?”

“fuck me”

“is that all?”

“fuck me like you're mad at me,” you tried biting back your smile, as you stared into his dark eyes.

“anything for you,” easily tearing off your nightgown, his hands explored your body. perfect, everything about it was perfect. no one could make his cock as painfully hard as you.

lifting you into his arms, your legs going around his waist instantaneously. pumping himself a few times, he aligned with your entrance, before letting your cunt pull him in deeper. throwing your head back, you held him close as he kissed along your neck.

“you ready, baby?” he asked, smirking as you nodded.

“yes,” you moaned breathlessly.

without another word, with a firm hold on your thighs, began thrusting into you. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you as if you were nothing but a whore to him. nodding your head, you opened your mouth, tongue out, letting obito spit into your mouth.

“just like that, i love it,” you cried, before smashing your lips into his own.

“you're so tight baby, you're squeezing me,” he whimpered, as you dragged your tongue along his jaw.

“cum inside of me, as many times as you want,” you moaned, your voice getting louder as he sped up.

“fuck yeah,” you laughed, throwing your head back, as he slapped your ass.

“i’m about to cum,” he told you.

“wait for me, we'll go together,” you cried, placing wet kisses along his shoulder, as you both moaned, drunk with horniness.

“right there, i’m cumming,” you whined and finally he released, filling you up.

“hm, so good,” you exhaled, feeling almost refreshed.

“i didn't hurt you, did i baby?” he asked, worriedly.

“no, you were amazing,” you kissed his lips, as his cock fell out of your creamy pussy.

“good,” he said, feeling better after having your reassurance.

“obito”

“yes baby?”

“take me to bed,” you whispered, your eyes burning with lust.

“yes, my love”

♡︎ sasuke uchiha

— 8 inches, i don't make the rules, he's tall, slender, and quiet, meaning it’s heavy

— he's unsurprisingly quiet, but small whimpers and groans will escape his mouth sometime

— he has your legs folded like a pretzel, in the mating press, he has to restore his clan after all

— keeps his shirt on because he's self-conscious, but likes it when you touch him

— likes sucking your breast while he rubs your clit or you jerk him off while kissing him, but he isn't into oral

— incredibly sweet and gentle, while showing his strength

— he knows his redemption won't happen overnight and being more loving to you than before is very important to him

— he isn't the best at aftercare, but with your words of encouragement and instructions, he will get better

“i’ve missed you,” he said lowly, standing in the doorway, he had come home just as you had gotten out of the shower. the fluffy towel still around your body.

“i’ve missed you too,” you smiled. he had been trying so hard to communicate more.

slowly, he approaches you, swiftly lifting you with his arm. his hand resting under your ass, while you held onto his shoulders, peppering his face with kisses. he was still as strong as ever.

“want to know what else i’ve missed since you’ve been away?” you smirked as he nodded.

“your big cock, i miss you fucking me like a slut, do you miss that?”

“yes,” he whispered, his breathing getting heavier.

“are you too tired tonight? i need you so badly, i want to fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you bit your lip. your pussy was already leaking.

“never,” he said and before you could speak again, you were already being gently placed on the bed.

opening your towel, sasuke straddled your lap, taking his cloak off, revealing the gray shirt underneath. leaning down, he lapped his tongue over your nipple. using his hand to pinch the other. reaching down, you unbuttoned his pants, but when you reached for his shirt, he reached for your hand.

“no”

“it’s okay, you’re with me,” you encouraged him, as he hesitantly nodded. unbuttoning his shirt, you opened it but left it on.

taking out his cock, your walls clenched at the heaviness of it. the girth, the length, the visible veins, as he stroked himself. the precum already leaking out. once hard enough, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing a little, before he pushed himself into your wet tight hole.

“yes baby, just like that,” you moaned, as he lifted your legs, crossing them, before pushing himself all the way in.

“so beautiful,” he mumbled.

“you’re making me so wet, keeping going, you’re fucking me so good,” you whined to him, reaching to touch his toned abdomen.

you were already creaming all over him, as he kept going in and out. he was thankful that your eyes were shut because you couldn't see him place the kisses along your feet and ankles. he was disappointed in himself, the fact that it took all this time, for him to finally cherish you and now he couldn't get enough of you.

“ah, sasuke, i’m so close,” you said, your legs shaking, as he held them folded together.

your walls repeatedly clenched around him, as he let out a series of uneven grunts. he was close and he didn’t even know if you wanted him cumming inside. shaking under him, you began to unravel, coating his cock with your juices.

“shit,” he hissed, about to pull out, when you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“cum inside,” you moaned, biting your lip, as he filled you up.

with every drop of his seed released, your legs fell, and you smiled tiredly batting your lashes at him. pulling him onto the bed, you kissed as if you'd never see each other again.

“lord seventh has to stop sending you on so many missions, this house is so lonely without you,” you pouted, playing with the ends of his hair.

“maybe…maybe having a child around could keep you some company, until i am home?” he struggled to say, his face burning in embarrassment.

“you want a baby?”

“with you,” he added on, a small nod.

“then we have to get really busy-

“we can start tonight,” he interrupted, motioning for you to sit on his lap. you were in for a long night.

[ye4gerism]

This has been on my mind for a while and I’m kinda surprised no body really wrote about it but could you please do one were reader basically gets into curly’s ass about jimmy but it kinda leads into a lil heated argument you can chose if it ends on a good note also have a good morning, day or night 😊

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊, 𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒, 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

author’s note sorry for the radio silence. i’ve been suffering from writer’s block. working retail during the holidays will do that to you. anyway, enjoy this ficlet.

You were starting to wake. Through your eyelids, you noticed how the room around you began to brighten up. You let out a groan and turn onto your side before proceeding to tap your hand on the side where Curly normally slept…and yet you felt nothing there. Your eyelids flick open in horror.

Curly's side of the bed was empty. You sit up, frantic. Where was he? You look at his dresser, then yours - no note. You scan the room and there isn't any sign that he's gone.

You scoot off the bed and go downstairs. As you descend, you can hear his voice. You follow it into the kitchen where you finally see him standing there, still in his boxers, one hand on his hip, and the other holding his phone against his ear. He looks frustrated, must be that pony job he always complains about.

Curly acknowledges you with a smile before focusing once again on his conversation. "No, that makes no sense! I already told you I was coming here!"

You walk up behind Curly and lean against his back. Your hands run up his torso, feeling up his pectorals and his abs.

“Alright, Jimmy,” he says.

Of course.

You pull away at the sound of that name. You didn't really like how Jimmy presented himself; there was a strange amount of jealousy from his end and he could just never be happy for others. There was already a mutual dislike for each other but your boyfriend, Curly being Curly, takes his job too seriously and lets it spill into his personal life. He thinks he can H.R. his way into making you and Jimmy friends or, at least, respect each other.

Curly hangs up and turns around to greet you. "Good morning, sweetheart." He lights up with these words, no sign of being bothered by his conversation. You decide not to say anything at first. If anything, you were a little annoyed - if he was going to wake up before you, you'd at least hope he'd go out on a run or maybe surprise you with a sweet treat or flowers. You open the fridge in search of something to eat. Milk, eggs, leftover pomegranate.

"Babe?" Curly's head pokes over the fridge. "I said good morning."

You decide to eat the pomegranate for breakfast. Wouldn't want it to go bad.

"I bet it is. How's your boyfriend?" you ask. Curly's face drops. You close the fridge and take a seat by the island counter.

"Hey, don't walk away from me. What's up with you?" he asks. You shoot him a look, then your eyes move to his phone. Curly eyes follow yours and it hits him once his eyes settle on his phone.

"Please don't start. Not this morning."

"Oh, so you're aware. Perfect!" You place your cut pomegranate back in the bowl. "My question is just why? Why do you give him so much...control?"

"Control? I am my own man, you know. Captain of my own ship." You must have hit a nerve because Curly normally doesn't get defensive like this. Using his title to make him seem better? Not a usual practice of his.

"You deliver shit! People at NASA get to brag about going to space to explore! You don't. So don't let your ego get in the way of me questioning your relationship with your idiot friend."

He was Persephone, Jimmy was Hades, and like Demeter, you only had Curly for the spring and summer.

You both stare intensely at each other for a moment and it was the 'let's just hop in the sheets and fuck it out' intensity. You both were genuinely pissed at each other. 

"I'm going to step out," Curly says breaking the silence. He starts to make his way up the stairs. "Yeah, avoid the question of Jimmy, like you always do!" you yell at him.

"Shut up!" He's halfway up the stairs. Your head cocks back. "Did you tell me to shut up?" He's never spoken to you like that - you're not even sure he's spoken to anyone like that.

Curly realizes what he's just said and is equally as shocked by his own mouth. He rushes down the stairs and reaches out to you. When he's close, you turn your body away. "Hey..." he pleads.

"Curly...please go. Go anywhere. I don't know. Go call Jimmy or something. Just get out of my sight." You push your bowl of fruit away from you. Still refusing to face him, you continue, "I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Especially, especially, if we're talking about Jimmy. You must be out of your fucking mind."

He lingers before finally giving in. "Ok...I'll step out for a bit." Curly hesitantly places a hand on your back. You don’t tell him off or recoil. “I’m sorry and…and I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge the actual problem - Jimmy. So you choose to let it go because it’s all you can do. Curly gives you the day to yourself before coming home for dinner. A bouquet of your flowers and tons of kisses make up for the quarrel for now.

[bambihrt]

Christmas in Hell

a very hazbin christmas, full of joy, cheer and a party for the ages

Alastor x reader

Reader needs the perfect gift for Angel Dust but has to ask a certain someone for help. Just a little fluffy holiday special.

You would think after death the holidays wouldn't be very important. In hell, especially you would think since they're not big fans of the big guy in charge that they wouldn't celebrate a certain someone's birth. Well Charlie Morningstar was not going to let those facts ruin her super-duper fantastical holiday party.

Christmas Eve

Despite the lack of Christmas spirit Angel Dust was booked and busy letting Santa come down the chimney in a few special videos to be released the next day. Even though his stocking was being filled early you, as his best friend, were stressing over the perfect gift to get him.

Earlier in the week, Charlie has gathered everyone in the hotel to the main space where she had set up a giant tree that reached the ceiling. Charlie and her partner Vaggie, covered in pine needles and wearing lumberjack clothing, held Husk's hat full of folded slips of paper open for the circle.

"Hiiiii everyone! Hope you're all merry and ready for a fun group bonding exercise!" Charlie began.

She was met with loud groans and signs. "Shut up and listen to Charlie she put a lot of work into this," Vaggie huffed with rage.

"Thanks Vaggie. Anyways, I've set up a secret Santa for everyone to- HEAR ME OUT OKAY yes so you'll choose a name and then on Christmas we'll swap gifts and it will be so fun!" Charlie explained while passing the hat along and giggling and staring you down when she picked a piece of paper.

Since you had died quite young, your family hadn't make it to Hell yet or they made are in the place above, so you haven't celebrated since making your way to the after life, so this sounded like fun. But you couldn't resist a playful eye roll as you chose your paper reading Angel Dust to yourself.

Husk groaned while picking from his hat and then placing it on his head, "I thought through death I escaped obligatory in-law get togethers but now I have this shit."

Fast forward back to present day you were still stuck on what you could get him. Adult toys? No give him a break from work. Drugs? Not that you want to encourage that habit. Nifty had been no help when you asked. Muttering on about bad boys and cleaning. You didn't bother with asking Husk. Sir Pentious was still being coached on the whole secret Santa concept. Vaggie and Charlie had too many good ideas but none felt right for Angel Dust. This left you with only one option.

Knocking twice on the radio demon's door, your face twisted with instant regret and immediately started back down the hallway. "Leaving so soon? Now here I was thinking you saved the best for last." The gaze of his knowing smile burned the back of your head as you swiveled around.

"Sorry Alastor it was stupid idea I'll leave you to do... whatever you were doing."

"Nonsense my dear! Why I'd be happy to help my favorite guest with a gift for a certain effeminate fellow!"

"How did you-"

Alastor let out his practiced laugh, "Discretion is not one of your strengths (y/n)."

Your cheeks set alight hearing Alastor call you by your first name, no pet name or teasing nicknames. He held the door open and you avoided his gaze while leading inside. The great radio demon sauntered over to his large cherry wood desk inside his room and sat in a leather cushion maroon chair. Due to the lack of seating options, you hovered near the edge of his bed while le smiled and motioned for you to take a seat with a teasing glint in his eye.

Mustering up the courage to break the silence you asked, "I thought you didn't allow visitors inside your room."

Twiddling with his microphone cane Alastor responded, "I can make exceptions."

"I don't have any VoxTek on me by the way. Just in case you wondered."

A sound came from him, almost like a real giggle but you must of been mistaken. "I know (y/n)."

"Well since you seem to know everything what would be the perfect gift for Angel Dust that will show I'm a wonderful friend?"

"I can only give you hints, would spoil the game if I told you."

You groaned and fell back against the bed. Of course coming to Alastor was a mistake. As if an overlord would want to help silly you buy a silly gift for a silly holiday.

"Cheer up dearie! You're closer to the answer then you might think."

Eyebrows furrowed and dread he might make a fool of you, you asked him for the first hint.

"Something to do with your weekly film Friday events perhaps?"

"It's actually called freaky Friday because of our shared love of movies from the noughties." You said with a cheeky grin. "Angel also loves a dirty joke whenever it's possible to have one."

"Ah yes you, the spider ,and the swine all cuddled together in your matching pajamas on the settee watching princess makeovers and assistant makeovers and-"

"Hey it's more than just makeovers!" However, the comment gave you an idea, "Oh my god what if I get him a Fat Nuggets blanket?"

A round of applause played while Alastor called out "Ding ding! We have a winner!"

Letting out a sheepish smile and thank you, you rose from the bed ready to search for a way to get this made by the end of the day. Then a perfectly wrapped gift appeared in front of your face and dropped into your hands. Your head whipped in the direction of the smiling demon across the room.

"Is this what I think it is? How did you have it already?"

"I know you."

With a flushed face and full arms you made your way out of the room and through the doorway. Only halfway through the walk to your bedroom did you realize Alastor knew of your movie nights and took note of the matching pajamas. The radio demon noticed you.

Christmas Day

A giant fire roared in the hearth as bells rung and music played around the hotel. Excitement filled the air as the originally dismissive group exchanged gifts to each other. You and Angel Dust hung together watching the others until you announced you had something for him.

"Aw (y/n) you're my secret Santa?"

You snatched the Santa hat off Angel Dust's head in embarassment and placed it on your own as you laughed, "Had to get something for my ho ho hoe."

After a fit of giggles said spider unwrapped his gift and his eyes lit up, "If you had a dick I'd suck it so hard right now thank you doll."

Christmas was a success and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief and a laugh at your best friend's words as he snuggled himself within the blanket along with its muse in his lap.

Charlie rose up to give her gift as you prepared yourself with being thankful and happy no matter what she gave you. Until she turned to Nifty with a gift that turned out to be a new dress for her. Filled with confusion you swore to Angel that you thought Charlie got you due to her obviousness. Then the young Morningstar turned again to look above you and smiled so brightly.

Both yours and Angel Dust moved to see what she was smiling at behind you only to be face to face, or well chest, of the radio demon. Grinning down at you with his hands behind his back he laughed and said, "Happy Christmas from your secret Santa."

"What? I thought for sure it was Charlie."

"We struck a sort of deal," Alastor explained while behind your back Charlie gave a thumbs up as the rest of the crew stopped to watch.

The gift was handed to you as you carefully unwrapped it, conscious of all the eyes currently on you or rather what a scary overlord has given you as a gift. Inside was a beautifully crafted music box with carvings of your favorite flowers and sculptures of little deer in a meadow. You opened the box and your ears are met with an instrumental version of your favorite song.

"How did you-"

"Like I said I know you (y/n)."

Suddenly Charlie's voice bellowed, "Look who's under the mistletoe!" As if you couldn't be any more red from this interaction you now looked up to see that very mistletoe above you and Alastor. Your facial expression fell realizing this was going to be so awkward, being rejected in front of everyone despite it not being caused by you. Full of thoughts on how to escape or come up with a nonchalant response to not even being wanted for one measly peck and planning when you'll disappear to nurse your ego, you were distracted from the real world. That was until a pair of lips met your own in a soft yet hungry kiss. The moment felt like eternity yet also a millisecond at the same time. Before you could return the kiss, the deer demon pulled back and with a wink, walked away.

Shocked faces and silence filled the room as no one expected Alastor's actions. Lightly touching your lips, you thought maybe Christmas in Hell isn't so bad.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ antihero mercenary bf x top male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . i can't- f-fuck- please! !! 🍒 :  antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character﹙ verse 781 alessio. ﹚

a continuation ( and a redemption of the first one ) of the cockwarming ask by heart anon cw: cockwarming, brat taming, riding ( reader penetrating alessio )

ps: oh heart anon, I hope you can forgive me for messing up the last one and enjoys this one even more :,)) - Howl

“Sit still. Alessio.”

A whine follows the command. Your boyfriend’s head falls back onto your shoulder, and breathes in deep before letting a groan rumble out of his throat. One you can only roll your eyes at, while you keep reading.

And hour.

Punished to sit on your cock for an hour, not allowed to do anything but keep it warm and snug inside of his pretty little ass.

You’ve joked enough about how his ass feels as though it hasn’t taken you more than a few days in a row now. He’s clenching away at you like he’s depending on it

“Did you see what I wrote last week? On biological warfare and how it affects. . .” Oh and you ramble on as he zones out. The slight pulse and twitch of your cock sends him into dizzy episodes that feel like electricity sparking down his spine and up.

Breath so heavy he sounds like a dog panting slowly. You assume drool is trickling down his chin without him even knowing by now. You feel the squeeze of his tight ass around you. It is tempting. You could reach down to his cock and begin pumping away, perhaps? Oh but it would ruin the fun.

Is it really so painful? To sit still while you do your little rambles and research for him? He agreed to sit here with you, so why is he not enjoying it some more? Having you inside of him should be enough to make him sit and spill a bit.

Oh, but you might as well give the poor man on top of you a little grind. For good measures, no?

So you do, hips grinding upwards, your balls smacking against his skin after an experimental thrust. It felt too good not to. . . Damn this man and his tight ass. You have to wait with spreading him across the desk until later.

Patience is virtue and the key to torture him a little longer after being a brat since yesterday. Teasing you about your newest project.

He wants to tease? Then let him have some of it back.

His hips move downwards immediately to meet the grind. Before they buck desperately to see if you will chase after him and pull a few more whines from him.

Large, olive skinned hands clench around the seat of the chair. A groan escaping his lips when you do indeed follow. But grab onto his hips to smack him back down on you and keep him still.

“Fuck,” the hiss is music to your ears. Your eyes so full of lust that you do not display to him. However you are sure he can hear it just clear in the husky chuckle that manages past your lips.

“I told you to listen to me when I spoke. Now. Sit still.”

He lets out a cry of dismay, it is so unfair. You’re fucking with the man who’s libido rages on like a wildfire and you tell him to sit still and do nothing. This sort of punishment, it is too hard on him. Oh woes and tragedy!

“If you want it, stop crying, and beg.” What malicious words to tell him. But what else does he do, other than comply.

“Please, Please I beg of you to just start fucking me. I can’t takethisanymore— a-anhgh cariñooooooo!” His eyes roll back at the moment bliss hits him. You fuck up into him, hitting all of the spots that he has been spilling tears and drool for you to pound.

You, on the other hand, get to put your little work frustrations out of him. He minds not, as long as he gets to feel the hard and fast pace of your cock moving up against his gummy walls he is happy. And in turn he squeezes the life out of you.

“Ffffffffuuuuuuckkk. such a tight ass, that’s it. c’mon Arias. Take it.”

The pace itself sends you into a delirious state. Having felt his warmth around you so long made you realise just how good it feels to be moving around once more. Your hand gripping onto his hips to move him forwards to the desk. Leaving him bent over to take it all. Cock dripping with cum that soon spurts it instead as your hand comes to aid it’s weeping tip.

[seungkw1]

touch me, tease me, feel me up — xmh

💿 love talk - wayv

♡ pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: 1.1k ♡ warnings: unprotected piv sex (don't do this), fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking (f. receiving), size kink if u squint, creampie, cum swallowing, petnames (baby, good girl) ♡ a/n: happy holidays @haologram!!! written as part of @camandemstudios secret santa event - hope u enjoy bestie 🫶 and tysm @miniseokminnies for the banner <3

“Hao… please…”

Your whines fill the air as your boyfriend’s long fingers trace slowly up and down your pussy, the heat of his breath on your exposed cunt sending a shiver up your spine. He’s been at this for way too long, teasing you with the most delicate touches all over your body, torturously dragging out foreplay so long that you feel like you're going to explode. 

“What is it baby? Tell me,” he speaks softly as he plants a slow kiss on your inner thigh. He fixes his eyes on your desperate face, eyelids heavy with a sultry gaze as he gives you another kiss. His mouth is so close to your cunt - but nowhere near close enough. Your clit aches, throbbing against nothing, begging for the relief of Minghao’s touch. 

“Need your mouth on me,” you plead, your voice wavering pathetically. He drags his middle finger in a circle around your bud, causing you to let out a sad-sounding whimper, your hips involuntarily bucking into the air in search of Minghao’s lips. But, he’s quicker, raising his chin enough for his mouth to be just out of reach. 

“Patience, love,” he responds, but you see the glimmer of a smile forming upon his face, relishing in watching you lose composure beneath him. He loves how needy you are, and the fact that he can do the bare minimum and still make you dripping wet in no time makes him incredibly turned on.

Eventually, he can't wait any longer. He presses his plump red lips against your clit, kissing it delicately, making you sigh from the relief of his touch. He flattens his tongue against your cunt, giving you a slow lick; he repeats it again, and again - by the fourth time, you're squirming against the sheets. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, eliciting a moan from deep within. 

“Oh god…”

He drags his tongue back down, pressing it into your hole, again and again until he’s fully tongue-fucking you. His nose grazes your swollen clit, sending an electric shock through you each time. You feel like you're going to cum already - it feels too fast, he just started properly going down on you. But, you can't help it - Minghao is simply too skilled in bringing you pleasure. 

He pauses, raising his head and making eye contact with you. His face is glistening, covered in your juices. Eyes filled with hunger, he grins at you lazily before suddenly hoisting your thighs upwards. You yelp as he shifts your hips, practically folding you in half so he can have full, uninhibited access to your pussy. He takes your clit gently between his lips, suckling on it lightly; with a low groan your head falls back onto the pillow. He unwraps his arm from one of your thighs, bringing his fingertips to your cunt, brushing up and down your soaked slit a few times before pushing his first two fingers inside you. You cry out as he curls his fingers, stroking your g-spot as he suctions back onto your clit. He fucks you with his fingers - slowly at first, but the more you wriggle beneath him the faster he goes, pumping his fingers at the perfect rhythm. 

“Oh my god, Minghao…”

He's never told you outright that you moaning his name is the hottest sound he could ever hear, but he doesn't have to. He buries his face in your pussy, sucking on your clit while his fingers work their magic. You grasp onto the bedsheets, your back arching as your climax nears, closer and closer, until-

“Oh god, I’m cumming…”

You release hits like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling through your body as your orgasm takes control. Minghao sucks on your clit ceaselessly as you cum on his fingers, making you see stars as your body trembles, riding out your high. Your chest rises with heavy breaths as you start to come down, your body relaxing into the bed - but neither of you are anywhere near done. 

Minghao gives you one last kiss on your pulsating bud before lifting himself up to kiss you on the lips, his hand caressing the back of your neck as he makes out with you lovingly. The head of his cock bumps against your pussy; you lower yourself onto him, your overwhelming wetness taking in his tip with ease. You groan as he slowly pushes the rest of his length into you, his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. He gives you a moment to get used to his size, but you're impatient. 

“Please fuck me,” you whimper, looking up at him with utter desperation. He too can't wait a moment longer - he begins to thrust into you, long and slow strokes, letting his cock feel every inch of your pussy. You reach for his arm, tugging at his wrist - and he knows exactly what you want. He drags his hand up your torso, stopping for a moment to squeeze your breasts, before wrapping his hand around your throat. His fingers squeeze into your neck, choking you as he thrusts deep into your pussy. Your eyes beg and plead him to fuck you harder as gagging noises fill the air - a fire builds in his gut, pounding into you harder and harder, until he can't resist any longer. With a string of deep moans he releases, his cum spilling into your pussy, painting your insides with his hot ropes. His cock throbs against your walls as the last few spurts fill you to the brim. After a few moments, he slowly pulls his cock out. His cum dribbles out of your hole, but he quickly catches it, stuffing it back into your cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he coos. “Taking all my cum in your pretty pussy.” 

You whine as he slowly pulls his fingers out; you grab his forearm, drawing his milky-white coated hand up to your face. You wrap your mouth around his fingers, sucking slowly, swallowing all of the excess cum. 

“Oh, wow,” he mutters softly. “My baby is so perfect.”

He wraps his arm around your torso, rolling over onto his side and taking you in his embrace. His skin is hot against yours, dewey with sweat, holding you tight as he presses a deep kiss onto your cheek. You breathe in tandem, warm and safe in each other’s arms, lulling you both into a blissful trance. 

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [10]

Part Ten | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, chapter follows “Tell it to the Frogs” but dialogue and events are paraphrased.

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: Me posting twice in a week? Unheard of. I've just been feeling very inspired for this story and this chapter just took on a life of it's own. I try to keep these chapter under 2,000 words, but this one is a tad longer. Hope you all enjoy! As always I would love to hear what y'all think.

After an eventful night around the campfire, you return to your empty tent. A part of you was thankful when Shane told the group that he was taking watch tonight, but another part of you recognizes that he’s simply trying to delay the inevitable. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation right now. Not after the whiplash of emotions you experienced today: from the joy of one of your best friends returning from the dead to the devastation you felt for Daryl at the realization that Merle didn’t make it back from Atlanta. 

You had asked about the older Dixon’s absence during a lull in the conversation after you’d all finished dinner. Rick explained what had happened in Atlanta, and though you understood why he chose to handcuff Merle on the roof, your heart broke for Daryl. When you asked if they planned to return to the city for him, you were met by a scoff from Shane and a mumbled good riddance under his breath. His reaction made you sick to your stomach. You may not care for Merle Dixon, but Daryl does. And for all you know, he’s the only family that Daryl has left. 

The prolonged silence that ensued after your question was an answer in itself. They didn’t plan on going back for him. 

You lie down on your cot, sighing as you stare into the darkness above you. Your mind is still racing at the realization of Shane’s infidelity. You hadn’t gotten a chance to process the insinuation during the constant commotion this evening, but now that you were alone, it’s all you can think about. You roll over, closing your eyes and hoping that some sleep will give you a clearer perspective on your dilemma. But even though today took pretty much everything out of you, sleep never seemed further away. The idea of holding onto all of this alone is exhausting, but who are you supposed to talk to right now? Rick and Lori just got each other back. You barely know Glenn and Dale. And even though you’re friends with Andrea and Amy, anything told to the sisters tends to spread through the camp like wildfire. You wish Daryl was here. 

But then there’s your second problem. How do you explain to Daryl that the group left his brother in Atlanta? And how will he respond? Daryl’s just started opening up to you, and you’re depending on that budding friendship now more than ever. You’re afraid he will pull away from the group due to the betrayal. And you wouldn’t blame him — betrayal weighs heavy on your heart right now. 

You let out another sigh as you turn onto your back. You pull your thin blanket over your head, trying to physically block out the thoughts spiraling inside of your brain. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you pull Dale’s book out of your backpack and ignite your small flashlight. You open the book to where you left off, but instead of getting further into the novel, your eyes drift to the crumpled piece of paper acting as your placeholder. Finally, you drift off rereading Daryl’s hastily written note. 

When you wake, you’re met with rays of morning sunlight filtering through the flaps of your tent. You blink the grogginess out of your eyes. Even though you slept more than usual last night, your body feels like it didn’t get any rest. You gather your strength and manage to get off of your small cot, groaning as your feet connect with the ground. Hopefully, you’ll feel better once you busy yourself with something to do around camp. 

Exiting your tent, you’re met with a surprisingly empty camp. Your brow furrows as you sweep the area, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your eyes land on Rick talking to Carol by the RV. Having Rick Grimes back in your life still feels like a dream. You make your way up to the pair, and Rick glances over your way. 

“You look as tired as I feel.”

Although his words are said in a humorous tone, his eyes hold a look of genuine concern. The small smile on your face grows a bit wider at the sight. Rick Grimes isn’t your blood, but you’ve considered him your family since you befriended Lori all those years ago.

“Just a restless night, I suppose.”

You attempt to brush off the concern nonchalantly. The last thing you want to do is worry Rick as he’s settling back in with his friends and family. But even though he lets out a warm chuckle at your response, the concern etched into his features doesn’t dissipate. Rick opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a woman screaming. The two of you look toward where the sound is coming from, somewhere off in the surrounding woods, before looking back at each other with wide eyes.

“Lori…”

Without another word, the two of you race off into the woods with Carol not far behind. As you both get further into the forest, you begin to hear a medley of concerned voices. And finally, you find a small clearing with the entire group gathered around Sophia and Carl. Rick rushes over to his son, but your eyes are fixated on an inanimate walker lying beside a deer carcass. Your hand subconsciously lands on your hip and grabs the hilt of your hunting knife. Although it looks like some of the men handled the walker, you still have a sinking feeling in your stomach as your eyes rake over the jagged bite marks that trail down the deer’s neck. 

A rustling in the woods pulls your attention away from the carnage, and suddenly, everyone is on high alert. You watch as both Shane and Rick get in front of Lori and Carl, shielding them with their bodies as they draw their guns up toward the sound. Your tense shoulders relax, and a relieved sigh escapes your lips as Daryl appears from the dense forest brush. Everyone drops their weapons as Daryl raises his hands. Shane groans as he spots a handful of squirrels that Daryl has tied onto a rope in his left hand. Daryl glares at Shane for a second before his eyes land on the mangled deer lying on the forest floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

Daryl approaches the deer, angrily muttering about how he’d been tracking it for miles. He kicks the deer in frustration and drops to a knee to assess the damage the walker has done. 

“I was gonna drag it back to camp — cook us all up some venison. What do you think? Think we could cut around the chewed-up parts?”

Daryl’s proposal earns him several disgusted groans, and Shane responds. 

“I wouldn’t risk it, man.”

Daryl sighs disappointedly before standing up from the deer. He wipes off his hands on the front of his jeans. His eyes harden slightly as he looks over at Shane. 

“That’s a damn shame. Got some squirrel though — that’ll have to make due.”

From behind him, the walker begins groaning and Daryl rolls his eyes as multiple people cry out in horror. In one swift motion he swings his crossbow from behind his back and shoots the walker square between the eyes. Daryl’s eyes scan the small crowd that has gathered around all of the commotion. His posture relaxes ever-so-slightly as his eyes meet yours. He gives you a subtle nod — a small gesture you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead of nodding back, you drop your eyes to the ground. You’re not quite sure how to face him right now — overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment over your current predicament with Shane and guilt that you didn’t go to Atlanta after learning about Merle. Realistically, you know that there’s no way that you could go on a lone rescue mission to the city to save Merle, but you still feel like you should have done something. 

Daryl’s brow furrows, and his heart clenches at your reaction. What happened while he was gone? Daryl looks around and suddenly realizes that everyone in camp is staring at him with a disheartened expression — everyone except Merle. His eyes quickly scan the group once more before he starts making his way toward their shared tent. Everyone moves to follow him. 

“Merle! Merle, where you at?”

You move to step forward. If anyone was going to break the news about his brother, it should be someone who cares about him. But before you can speak, Shane pushes you behind him and takes the lead.

“Daryl, just slow up a bit. We need to talk to you about Merle. There was a problem in Atlanta.”

Daryl chews on his bottom lip for a second before responding. 

“He dead?”

Your heart breaks as you watch Daryl’s expression drop.

“We’re not sure.”

Daryl’s face hardens at Shane’s answer. 

“He either is or he ain’t!”

Rick puts a hand on Shane’s shoulder before things get too heated between the two hot-headed men. As Daryl’s gaze shifts from Shane to Rick and his eyes narrow. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Rick Grimes.”

Recognition flashes in Daryl’s eyes as the name immediately reminds him of the numerous stories you’ve told him about the man you consider a brother. His gaze flickers to you briefly before shifting back to Rick. For your sake, he pushes his anger aside for a moment and chooses to listen to Rick. You watch intently as Rick explains the events that happened in Atlanta. Daryl’s nostrils flare, and his grip tightens around the squirrels he’s holding. 

“You’re tellin’ me that you handcuffed my brother on top of a roof and left him there?”

“Yeah.”

And then all hell breaks loose. Daryl throws the bundle of squirrels at Rick, causing Shane to launch himself at Daryl. You rush forward as Shane tackles Daryl to the floor. You’re yelling at Shane — begging him to get off of Daryl. As you attempt to pull Shane off of him, Shane reaches back and pushes you off of him. Daryl yells as you hit the ground hard. Rick helps you up, and there’s a collective gasp as Daryl, who has managed to get out of Shane’s hold, pulls out his hunting knife. 

“Stop it!”

You step in between the two men — back to Shane. Daryl’s chest heaves from the physical activity, and his eyes don’t leave the man behind you. 

“Daryl.”

Finally, his eyes meet yours, and his face softens ever-so-slightly. He sighs before dropping the knife. You nod at him approvingly before turning to look at Shane. Although Daryl seems to have settled down, Shane is still fuming. His gaze is like daggers as he continues to stare at Daryl. T-Dog steps forward to diffuse the situation. 

“I dropped the key, but I locked the door. Nothing should be able to get in there — we just have to go back.”

You hear Daryl grunt from behind you. As you turn to face him, he’s chewing on his bottom lip again. You can practically see the gears turning his head. 

“Just tell me where he is so I can go get him.”

“I’ll go back with you.”

Lori clenches her jaw at Rick’s words, obviously upset by her husband’s decision. T-Dog nods at Rick’s words before stating he’ll join them. Shane mutters a string of expletives under his breath as Rick glances around the group. His eyes land on Glenn, and he shifts his feet nervously.

“Really, man?”

“You know the city better than anybody. It’d make me feel safer knowing you’re there with me.”

Glenn hesitates for a moment before nodding. Rick gives him a small smile, and Shane lets out an exasperated sigh.

“So that’s your big plan, man? You, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl?”

“And me.”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes land on you. Shane’s expression hardens as his eyes meet yours. His gaze is ice cold, but you don’t back down. 

“The hell you are!”

“I’m going, Shane.”

Shane huffs before taking several steps toward you.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind? This is Merle Dixon we’re talking about.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Daryl who is nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He’s watching the interaction attentively. Just like always, he’s prepared to step in if Shane loses his cool.

“He’s still human, Shane. He deserves better than to die handcuffed on top of a roof like a rabid animal.”

Shane’s expression tightens as his gaze briefly shifts between you and Daryl. His gaze eventually focuses back on you and his eyes narrow. 

“You’re really gonna do this for him?”

He juts his chin towards Daryl, and you let out a dry laugh due to the absurdity of this conversation. Everyone’s watching the stand-off between you and Shane intently — you’d be embarrassed by the attention if you weren’t so angry. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him, alright? It’s about doing the right thing.”

Shane takes another menacing step forward. You know what he’s doing — he’s trying to intimidate you into submission, but you’re done with this. He squares his shoulders as he towers over you, but instead of cowering, you stand your ground.

“That’s bullshit. If you leave with them, we’re done.”

His voice is seething. He’s desperately trying to regain control of the situation — the ultimatum is proof of that.

“We’ve been done, Shane.”

You turn to leave the conversation, but Shane reaches out and grabs your wrist. The grip he has on you is bone-breaking, and you let out a surprised yelp as he pulls you back towards him. Immediately, Daryl springs into action. A low, threatening growl rumbles in his throat as he moves toward you.

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

Shane’s grip tightens at Daryl’s warning. You squirm due to the pain shooting up your arm. You desperately try to wriggle out of Shane’s grasp, but it’s too tight.

“Stay out of this. She isn’t yours.”

“Are you deaf? She ain’t yours either.”

Before Shane can react, Rick grabs his shoulder. He looks at you and Shane with wide eyes, obviously confused about what has happened between you both during his absence.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Finally, Shane releases his grip, and you immediately backstep away from him. Daryl places a gentle hand on your shoulder and moves you further away from Shane. Rick’s brow furrows in confusion as he watches Daryl precautiously step in front of you. He’s obviously missing something here. The last time he saw you both — before the accident, before the coma — you were laughing with each other during dinner at Rick and Lori’s. He remembers your joy. But now you’re looking at his best friend with nothing but discontent. And Daryl, the man that Shane warned Rick about last night, is the one protecting you from a man you shouldn’t fear. Rick shakes his head before addressing the rest of the group. 

“Alright everyone, the show’s over. Let’s all cool off for a bit, okay?”

The group begins to wander off in different directions. But Daryl and Shane continue to stare each other down until Rick grabs Shane’s shoulder again.

“Shane, let’s go.”

It sounds more like a warning than a suggestion. Finally, Shane tears his eyes away from Daryl and stomps into camp. Rick gives you one last apologetic look before following after his best friend. You let out a sigh of relief and let your shoulders drop as the tense encounter finally ends. Daryl turns to face you, and his eyes immediately drop to your wrist, which is already beginning to bruise.

“You ‘lright?”

You nod wordlessly, still overwhelmed by everything that just happened. Daryl moves you back toward a fallen log to sit you down before he cautiously grabs your wrist. You’re so far away right now you don’t even respond to the touch. He drops down on one knee and gently assesses the damage that Shane caused, making sure nothing’s broken. Once Daryl is content with his assessment, he meets your eyes. His expression is brimming with worry as he searches your face. 

“You sure you’re ‘lright?”

Finally, you meet his eyes, and Daryl’s heart breaks at the sight of your broken appearance. He’s overwhelmed by his need to protect you — a feeling that’s becoming increasingly common for him as he spends more time with you. This time, you simply shake your head. Honestly, you have no idea what you feel right now. 

Daryl nods and takes a seat beside you. He feels like a fucking idiot. He never should have left you here for so long — not after everything you told him about Shane, everything he’s observed over the weeks you’ve spent in camp together. Before he can kick himself further, you speak again.

“It’s over, right?”

Daryl looks at you softly and nods.

“It’s over.”

“But he’s still…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about him anymore. I promise you, I ain’t gonna let him do anything to you. Not anymore.”

You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity in his tone and the devotion in his eyes. He promises to protect you like he’s taking an oath. And for the first time since he left on his hunting trip, you feel safe. You nod, honestly believing that Daryl would put himself in harms way for your own well-being. Hell, he already did. You lean back against the fallen log and Daryl reaches into his pocket before wordlessly offering you a cigarette. A warm laugh bubbles in your chest at the gesture and Daryl wishes he could record the sound. You take the cigarette and give him a small smile.

“You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he hands you a lighter. You take it graciously and Daryl watches you light the cigarette between your lips. You hand the lighter back to him before taking a long drag.

Goddamn.

He always thought those cowboy killers would kill one day — but he was wrong. You’re going to be the death of him and he’s okay with that. Because he can’t think of a more wonderful way to go.

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