#hope this is good! don’t worry about the reply length I know this is long >~>

[bxd-kxrma]

@liroyalty

Draconia Scre. The new home of this once banished knight, a secret she would keep to the grave as she wouldn’t let misplaced punishment sully her reputation. For now, she would put her thoughts into this new position she had been granted to which even surprised herself at the announcement.

Three dragon eggs. Stolen and recovered by Karma. It seemed to be easy to pick up on gossip and shady dealings in this land when having little to no connection with it which, of course made the process of recovering said eggs quite easy as she played the part of a successful noble from another land all too eager to purchase such profound and expensive goods.

It was only her code as a knight to return the eggs to where they belonged, regardless of reward.

Now she stood in her own quarters in the kingdom… A royal knight. Long, braided pink hair would fall over one shoulder as she bit at the tip of her thumb in thought, a bad habit of hers. The eyes of and glares from others at her position would not be ignored by the woman. She knew there were some who thought the sudden position was unfairly given. But this was nothing she had not dealt with before, leaving her rather unbothered and only thinking of the rapid adjustments she needed to take on, and quickly.

The knights mind would snap out of its endless thoughts as a knock to the door came. She would move to open it to reveal no one but the princess. “My lady.” Quickly, she would bow out of respect for her new lordess.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[fairy-writes]

Hello dear! How are you? I hope you are doing great💕

I'd like to request an oneshot with William J. Moriarty, where he has just returned from a mission with minor injuries on his back and his wife (preferably feminine, but if you're uncomfortable gender neutral is fine!) takes care of him. There she sees the scars from when his foster mother would punish him so she caresses and kisses his back😌.

With prompt 7

I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much in advance. 😘😘

KNOW WHEN IT’S ENOUGH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Prompt: “Enough is enough, and your best is good enough.” (Dialogue Prompt #7)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader

Notes: I’m weak for people calling their significant other “love.”

Vague references to the Hounds of the Baskervilles chapter(s) of the manga!

__________________________________________________________________________

It’s late when William gets home. 

You wake to the sound of the bedroom door opening and see him in the light of the dying fireplace. Your husband is haggard, covered in dirt, and looks like he’s two seconds away from passing out. 

You’re out of bed in an instant, gently working his long black coat from his shoulders and guiding him toward the shared bathroom in your chambers. 

“I’m fine, love. Really, it’s merely a few scratches.” He says, and you hush him as you turn on the oil lamps and flit about the bathroom like a busy bee. You gather bandages and ointment from under the sink and draw a bath. Setting your supplies on the counter, you turn to face your husband. 

William is leaning tiredly against the doorframe, watching with something akin to amusement at your fretting. 

“I promise you, I’m alright.” He says, and you shake your head, approaching him and dusting some dirt off of his cheek. 

“I want to make sure, William. Please?” You whisper, and he sighs, cupping your hand and keeping it there. He leans into your touch and offers a small smile.

“When can I ever say no to you?” He whispers, and you grin brightly. 

You turn away to give William some privacy as he sheds the rest of his clothes. You’ve already seen all of him. As he’s seen all of you. But it still seemed appropriate. 

The splash of water alerts you, and you turn to see William sinking into the bath, eyes closed and looking utterly at peace. You fold his clothes and set them aside as he starts to relax. His arms hand out of the tub, and as you drag a stool to sit behind him, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even move as you lather some soap in your hands and scrub it deep into his hair, getting all the dirt and smoke out from the golden strands. 

Once done scrubbing his hair, you take a cup that was beside the tub and fill it with water to gently rinse the grime from your husband’s hair. 

“What was the mission about this time?” You ask softly, and his eyelashes flutter but don’t open, as if you had woken him from sleep.

“Some nobles had been kidnapping children and hunting them for sport. Fred was worried, so we went and took them down. The children were rescued.” He says simply, and you hum.

“What about the nobles?” You can’t help but ask, and he finally tilts his head back and opens his eyes to look at you. 

They’re tired and dark.

As if he had done something terrible.

He likely had.

You weren’t a fool. You weren’t necessarily privy to William’s methods, but you were well aware of the lengths he would go to achieve his goals. 

“They got what they deserved.” Is all he says, and closes his eyes again as you comb the wet hair from his eyes. You nod once,

“I’m glad.” You reply. The two of you sit in silence as you gently wash the dirt from William’s shoulders. 

Then you noticed the faint red color coming from his back, leaking into the water and turning it pink.  With a frown, you gently push William forward from where he was relaxing to get a good look at his back. He moved without a fight.

William wasn’t necessarily well-built or massive like Moran. He was lithe and lean, built almost like a dancer rather than a fighter. 

He was also covered in scars. Old and new. Some were from past missions. Others were not. 

Though William wasn’t one to talk about his past, you had gathered enough in passing conversation to know that Albert’s family wasn’t the kindest to him and Louis. You knew the both of them were adopted from an orphanage as a charity case rather than out of the goodness of the Moriarty family’s hearts. You knew their birth son, whose name your husband had taken, was especially cruel to the boys. And you knew that the mother was quick to physical violence. 

But to this extent?

You traced what looked like an old scar of a belt buckle, and it was then that William realized just what was going on. He sat up quickly, turning to say something but stopped when he saw the look on your face. 

It was then that you realized you were crying. 

Tears streaked your cheeks, and you wiped them with soapy fingers, careful not to get the suds in your eyes. Droplets of water dotted your nightgown, but you paid them no mind. He turned so he was facing you in the tub and reached with a wet hand to cup your cheek.

“Why do you cry, my love?” He asked, and you gave a rather sad, watery sort of smile.

“Because you’re always doing so much with no regard for yourself. You took all that witch’s punishments without complaint, without so much as a word against her.” You whispered, and his eyes turned so unimaginably sad.

“I have to. I have to try my best to help others.” He replied, and you shook your head, leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Enough is enough, and your best is good enough. You can’t work yourself to death. I won’t stand for it.” You say, and he doesn’t say anything else.

So, once he’s clean, you fetch his robe, a towel, and a fresh change of night clothes. You wait until he’s clothed from the waist down before dressing the injuries on his back. They’re minor in severity and won’t need stitches, but you clean and bandage them nonetheless.

All the while, William doesn’t say a word.

Until you’re nearly finished, that is. 

As you’re wrapping the last of the gauze around the worst of the largest injury, he speaks. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and you smile, although he can’t see it. You lean and press a gentle kiss to his back, right over his heart.

“It’s not a problem. I love you.” You reply, and he hums.

“I love you too.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

been rereading your blog all day and it got me thinking.. handcuffing simon cause he just can’t keep his hands off of you and he breaks them. a harsh tug and all of a sudden you’re on your back and he’s definitely not where you left him last 🤭 tho(ugh)ts?

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader words: 1,089 warnings: SMUT [handcuffing, unprotected sex, oral sex, slight choking, orgasm denial], established relationship. summary: you have a little fun with simon, but he proves to you that nothing can hold him back for too long.

a/n: i was just gonna write a bunch of headcanons, but then this happened. i hope you like it!

[masterlist]

It’s a situation you never imagined yourself in. The broad man lying on your bed…restrained. It looks so wrong but so right. You feel that you should be the one lying there at his mercy.

“Do you know how easily I can get out of these, love?” he asks.

“I doubt it, Simon,” you say confidently as you walk to the end of the bed and climb on between his legs. “Now you definitely can’t touch me,” you tease.

“We’ll see about that,” he rasps, his gaze boring into you. He purses his full lips, and you lean over him to kiss them. He hums into the kiss, and you can hear the metal of the handcuffs straining. But you aren’t worried.

“Don’t you want to take my mask completely off?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No. I like you just like this.” You press your knee between his legs, feeling how hard he is through his boxer briefs. He grunts and then clears his throat to cover it up.

“Careful,” he warns.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me?” you tease. You kiss his lips once more before moving down to his neck and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t say a word; he watches.

You move lower and take time to swirl your tongue around his nipples, and he swallows hard. Then down to his stomach, where you press kisses to the soft skin before making your way to his happy trail.

“You know, I think this is my favorite part,” you say, laying your head on his thigh and looking up at him as you drag your nails along his happy trail. You see his hips moving ever so slightly.

“That’s interesting,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Yeah…” You kiss along his happy trail—down, down, down until you meet the waistband of his underwear. You pull the elastic and let it go, making it snap against his skin. He sucks in a breath.

You make sure he is looking at you when you drag your tongue along his length through his underwear.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Fucking…tease…”

You are sure to gather enough saliva to soak through the material and then lick him again.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat if you don’t get to it,” he tells you.

“Are you threatening me, Simon?”

“We both know it ain’t a threat, love. It can’t be when you like it,” he says.

“Up,” you say, tapping his thigh. He lifts his hips, and you pull his underwear down slowly, obsessed with how his cock springs free, so weighty that it slaps against his lower stomach.

“Get to it then,” he demands.

“You’re not very patient.”

“Don’t need to be.”

Before he can say anything, you wrap your hand around his dick and lick the head.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl.” He tilts his head to watch as you give the shaft little kitten kisses. He hisses and thrusts his hips up when you take him into your mouth. If his hands were free, he would be holding you by your head now, controlling the pace and how deep you took him, but right now, you were in charge, and you were going to do it the way you wanted.

You pull off him with a pop, then spit on it. “So big.” His cock throbs in your hand.

“Do not…fucking…tease me,” he warns.

“You don’t have any say in this.” You wrap your lips around him again, and he groans. Suddenly, he thrusts up off the bed and hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Love that sound,” he says proudly.

You pull off him, then straddle him. You sit on his stomach, making sure you don’t touch his cock at all.

“C’mere,” he says, “Give us a kiss, love.”

You lean in just enough that your noses touch. You make him lift his head the rest of the way. It makes you smile, having him under your control like this. You wonder what else you—

With a growl, Simon yanks his arms forward then his hands are cupping your face.

“Hm!” you gasp into the kiss, and he chuckles against your lips.

“What did I tell you?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Simon,” is all you can say before he flips you onto your back and slides himself inside you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “There we go.” There’s a hand at your throat, and the cold metal of the broken chain of the handcuffs rests against your collarbone.

“What did I tell you, love? Easy as pie.” He slams into you, and you cry out. He slides his other hand down your body, the other broken chain following.

“Fuck me,” you whine.

He presses his thumb to your clit. “Look at you squirming….” He gets an idea, then. With a smirk, he moves his thumb away and lets the chain from the handcuffs glide along your clit. It was something, but not enough to make you cum.

“Simon…please,” you beg.

“I told you not to tease me.” He pounds into you, the headboard slamming against the wall. “God, this fucking cunt is gonna be my death,” he groans. “Squeezing me like that….”

“I wanna cum, Simon.”

“No!” He moves the chain away from your clit. Suddenly, you’re flipped over onto your stomach. He gives you no chance to get your bearings and thrusts into you hard. He lays his body on top of yours and fucks you deep.

His weight is crushing you, but you don’t want him to stop. He turns your head roughly, kisses you, and you bite his lip. He pulls away with a hiss.

“Bad girl,” he says, pushing himself up on his hands to look down between your bodies and watch himself move in and out of you. You grab onto his forearm, fingers digging into his tattoo.

“Si-i-i-mon,” you whimper, his name coming out in a staccato because of his thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming! Fuck!” He growls loudly and pushes into you deeply, filling you deep inside to ensure most of it stays there. He kisses the back of your neck, catches his breath, and eventually rolls off you.

“That was incredible,” you tell him with a grin.

“Did everything right, did I?” he asks.

“You did perfectly, my love. Except…”

He lifts his head, concerned. “Except?”

“I didn’t get to cum,” you say with a pout, and he smirks.

“Oh, I can fix that, love,” he offers, moving down the bed quickly as you giggle.

[bills-wife-1]

heyyy can you write some smut where it's like enemies to lovers and you were smoking outside at night and then bill appears out of nowhere and started making fun of you for smoking then you bring up his smoking habits and it wasn't so fun anymore and you started arguing but eventually end up making out and more

Warnings: unprotected sex

Swearing, semi public (in a car)

A/n- Sorry if this like low key sucks I haven’t wrote in a long time and yea😭😭 (hope I did at least partly what you wanted)

Fuck you

It was about 11 pm, and I was currently standing outside of a huge house party that my best friend had somehow convinced me to go to, I’d much rather be home in my room, I felt insecure and just stressed out. I hate parties, but I’m doing it for her. I lit my cigarette and took a drag looking up at the sky, my friend had ditched me again for the fifth time already so I might as well just stay out here. I was lost in my thoughts until, I heard a voice. A voice I definitely didn’t want to hear right now. Bill. Kaulitz.

“Ooo someone’s not having a goodnight, why aren’t you inside loser? Too busy making your lungs black?”

He taunted.

“Can’t you fuck off? And what are you even talking about I know you smoke too, everyday after school coming to the gas station to get a new pack! At least I’m not addicted, I do it for stress relief!”

His face dropped.

“What the fuck, how did you even- you’re a liar!”

He started,

“I think you’re just mad that I know about your little secret..”

Bill grabs my arm looking at me with his angry brown eyes, his beautiful angry brown eyes. What am I thinking? I hate him. Right?

All of a sudden I was cut out of my thoughts by a pair of lips smashing onto mine, I was shocked but I eventually melted into it.

“Let’s go to my car, yea?”

He asks his voice soft and breathy.

“Mhm..”

We headed to his car and hopped into the back her layed on the seat and motioned for me to sit on his lap, we continued to make out, as I felt his tongue sneak into my mouth. I let out a small whimper.

I felt his arm sneak to my back and pull up my shirt, lifting it off of me. I was left in my skirt and my Lacey white bra. He looked at me with slanted eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous…”

He said breathing heavily.

I leaned down to kiss his neck, and I felt his arms sneak around behind me to unclip my bra,as I felt my bra slip off, my nipples hardening I started to feel a bit shy, trying to cover up but bill halted my movements,

“S’okay baby.. you look s’good..”

I looked him in the eyes as he leaned forward leaving harsh kisses on my breasts.

After a minute he lifts up his hips slipping his boxers and pants off at the same time.

Holy fuck.

He was huge. That was not gonna fit inside me.

“You okay hun?”

He asked with a soft tone.

“B-bill I don’t think.. I- that’s not gonna fit-“

I stuttered out

“It will baby.. don’t worry..”

“You’ll just have to get used to it.”

He replied.

“Uh- okay..”

After I replied I felt him ride up my skirt above my hips, and pull my panties to the side. He grabbed his length putting it right at my entrance.

“It might sting just a bit baby, but you’ll get used to it.”

Before I could reply I felt him push me down onto his length,

I immediately felt the stretch, I squeezed my eyes shut, catching my breath.

“You’re okay honey..”

he brushed my hair out of my face. We sat there for a second and then he asked,

“Can we move now?”

I slowly nodded and he helped me go up and down, it hurt but felt so good at the same time,

“Ooo shit… good girl..” he cooed

“Mm!”

Was all I could muster out.

“Fuck!” I squeaked quietly.

We started to go at a faster pace, I couldn’t control any nosies I was making at this point, they were just spilling out of my mouth,

“You’re doing so good honey, keep going, I’m almost there…”

“Ah! Fuck..” I moaned out

“Bill I’m gonna.. cum..”

I squeaked.

“Me too princess, do it with me..”

He said, out of breath

“Fuck fuck!” I moaned feeling the coil in my stomach snap, cumming

as I felt bill thrust into me a couple more times before releasing into me, luckily I was on birth control. We both lied there catching our breath before he spoke.

“You did s’good baby.. we should do it again sometime… would you want my number?”

He asked with a slight smirk.

“Sure!” I respond, and he gets a peice of paper writing it down as I got dressed, I picked up my phone and saw, 20 missed calls. From my best friend I completely forgot we were at a party.

“Shit! She’s probably lost somewhere..”

bill looks at you confused giving you the paper.

“Sorry, I completely forgot I was here with my friend, I gotta go! I’ll see you around and I’ll text you!!”

I said rushing out of the car

“Okay!”

Bill replied, he couldn’t ever remember why he hated her in the first place now.

[jessicaseroticramblings]

The Babysitter

I sat next to Mr Evans as he drove me home in his car. Well it wasn’t exactly straight home as we had agreed upon a slight detour along a quiet country road. Mr Evans pulled over in a lay by and turned off the engine. We sat there for a few moments in silence neither of us quite sure what we should do next. It was Mr Evans who broke the slightly awkward tension.

“So do you think this is a good spot? Should be secluded enough I’m hoping,” he said as he looked over and smiled. I was happy he had spoken up first.

“Yeah I think so. I mean I haven’t seen another car go past us since we drove down this road,” I said as I relaxed a little bit. I took off my seatbelt and he did the same.

“I was surprised to receive your messages while I was out at dinner with my wife. I thought there might be an issue with the kids at first as that’s usually the only reason the babysitter sends a message. But it was definitely a much more interesting message. I told my wife it was just a work colleague messaging me as I tried to hide my excitement. How did you know I would be interested in your offer and that I wouldn’t tell my wife our babysitter is sending me suggestive messages?” he said.

“Well every time I’ve babysat for you and your wife it’s hard to miss how you look at me. I’ve known you were interested in me for ages, so I wasn’t worried about sending you the message,” I said as I turned in my seat towards him.

“Was it that obvious? Damn I hope I didn’t come across as creepy,” he said and I laughed.

”No not creepy don’t worry. I was flattered an older man was thinking I was sexy. Made me feel pretty good.”

“Oh thank god! Last thing I wanted was to creep you out, and yes I think you are sexy. What man wouldn’t? I mean you’re an 18 yr old ginger goddess. Red hair has always drove me insane.”

“Ginger goddess!” I said and laughed out loud. “I used to get teased about being a ginger when I was younger.”

“Oh I meant it as the most amazing compliment Jessica,” he replied thinking he might have offended me.

“I know and thank you. If I’m going to be called a ginger I definitely prefer being a goddess version,” I said as I put my hand on his thigh. He looked down at my hand and smiled at me.

“It’s so exciting being here with you right now Jessica. I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. This might be too much information but my wife is rarely interested in any romantic activities so to speak. So it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything very exciting with a woman. I mean I’m 45 but I’m not quite dead yet,” he said and laughed. I smiled at him then slid my hand over his crotch in his pants.

“Well we can fix that Mr Evans. We agreed on $50 right?” I said as I rubbed him gently through his pants. He gasped as I touched him and I felt a definite bulge forming beneath my hand.

“First of all no more Mr Evans, call me David. And secondly yes $50. And thirdly oh my god I love how it feels when you touch me Jessica.”

“Ok then let’s get this show on the road,” I said as I unzipped his pants and reached inside to ease his cock out until it was sticking straight up. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started to caress his length. He moaned and squirmed with pleasure in his seat.

“Oh my god! Jessica you don’t know how unbelievable it feels to be held by you. Just feeling your hand holding my cock is incredible. It’s so fucking sexy Jess. You are so damn cute Jess,” he moaned as he watched my hand slowly start to stroke him. I gave him a naughty smile as I handled his cock.

“You have a nice cock Mr Evans.. I mean David. You have a very nice cock David,” I said and watched as he lay his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and moaned with pleasure. I continued stroking him as his cock grew even harder. He stayed like that for a couple minutes then looked at me again.

“I can’t believe I’m getting a handjob from my beautiful 18yr old redheaded babysitter. Your hand feels so good Jessica. Just the idea that a gorgeous young thing like you is going to make me cum is blowing my mind,” he said as I continued stroking him.

“Is it sexier than your wife doing this to you?” I asked.

“Oh fuck yes! Oooohhh fuck it feels so sexy Jessica. Can you tell me what you’re about to do to me Jessica? It would be so hot hearing you talking dirty,” he said as he switched his gaze from my hand on his cock to my eyes.

“You wanna hear how I’m loving holding your big hard cock in my hand and how sexy it feels stroking it up and down, over and over, while listening to your sexy moans?”

“Oh god yes!” he groaned.

“You wanna hear how I’m not going to stop stroking your cock until I make you cum for me David? How I’m going to make you cum so hard your balls will be empty? How it’s so sexy jerking off a man who is old enough to be my father? How if I was your wife I would be making you cum every single day?” I said as I stared into his eyes. His cock was throbbing in my hand and precum was dripping over my fingers.

“Yes oh yes you beautiful ginger goddess! Ooohh I’ve never wanted to cum harder than I need to cum for you right now Jessica. Oh god you’re so amazing! Please Jessica, please make me cum for you!” he groaned. I could tell he was getting very close to cumming and I suddenly realized I was about to make a huge mess as we had no tissues or anything. I couldn’t stop to look for something to catch his cum so I just did what felt natural and I bent down into his lap and took his cock into my mouth.

“FUCKKKKK YES BABY SUCK ME!,” he almost shouted as he held my head and pushed my mouth up and down on his cock. He was almost using my mouth as a sex toy as he thrusted up pumping my mouth with his big hard cock. My eyes started watering as he pushed his cock into my throat and I gagged slightly as he fucked my mouth. My saliva was dripping from my lips down his cock as I tasted his precum, as he moaned out that he was going to cum. He thrusted hard and deep into my throat as jets of cum flooded my mouth, his cock jerking and spurting so much cum that it poured out from between my lips. I could hardly breathe as he emptied his balls down my throat.

Eventually he stopped and let go so I could lift up and take some big gaps of air. I sat back in my seat gasping as his cum and my saliva dripped from my mouth.

“Oh wow Jessica that was fucking intense! I can’t remember the last time I came that hard,” he groaned before looking at me and seeing me getting my breath back.

“Happy you …. *gasp* enjoyed it… “ I said a little breathlessly.

“Oh fuck I’m sorry Jessica I got carried away. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be quite that rough. You ok?” he said as he touched my arm. I was liking that he showed concern for me even after he got what he wanted from me.

“It’s ok I’m fine. Damn though that was a lot of cum. Has you been saving it up?” I said jokingly.

“I guess it had been a while since I jerked off. Honestly it made cumming for you even more amazing. I was so horny,” he said.

“I noticed,” I said and smiled. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out the $60 for babysitting plus another $50 for our naughty fun. Then he looked at me and pulled out another $20 and gave me $130.

“I was only expecting you to give me a handjob. The blowjob was an unexpected treat so I should give you a bit more than was agreed on,” he said.

“Cool,” I said as I took his money and shoved it into my pocket. He started up the car and turned around to drive back down the country road to take me home. As we drove he kept glancing over at me ans smiling.

“So I have to ask Jessica. Do you think you would want to do this again next time we ask you to babysit? For extra payment of course,” he asked hoping.

“Sure, why not. It was easy money. I always need more money,” I said as I looked over at him. He had a huge smile on his face as he got the answer he was hoping for.

“This evening just gets better and better,” he said as he drove me the rest of the way home💋

[prentissluvr]

two mugs, half empty — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x bau!gn!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort ➖⟢ cw : feelings of guilt and shame, nightmare mentions, talk of canon typical violence, crying ➖⟢ wc : 2.8K

“you look like hell.”

“wow, thank you, luke. way to compliment somebody,” you deadpan, even though he said it with a voice full of empathy. he gives you a good-natured roll of his eyes before his face returns to that concerned look you opened your apartment door to.

“but seriously, did you sleep at all over the weekend?” you want to hate how much he cares about you, but the sincerity of his voice has you nearly ready to cave. 

“come in,” you offer, completely ignoring his question because the answer is “no, not really.” he raises his eyebrows at your lack of response, but steps in after you anyways. he can guess the answer well enough from the exhaustion evident in your whole figure.

you sit down with him in the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before he can say no to it. his gaze on you is heavy, but you ignore it in favor of examining the wood of the table in front of you. since you won’t say anything, he goes first.

“i came to check on you,” he states the obvious, “i’m– we’re kinda worried about you, you know? like, you haven’t responded to any of my texts all day and you never call in sick, even when you probably should, so i figured you’d probably be bedridden for you to make the choice to stay home.” he pauses for a long moment, as if inviting for you to explain why you’re, in fact, not bedridden, and not really physically sick at all. you don’t say a word. “so,” he prompts, “what’s up? why’d you turn down drinks with the rest of the team on saturday? kinda feels like you’re avoiding us.”

“i am avoiding you guys,” your voice comes out far quieter than you intended. you had wanted to sound nonchalant, and all you got was exhaustion. you sigh before continuing, “because you’re profilers and i don’t want to talk about it.” he sighs too.

“if it’s so bad that you went to the lengths to call off sick from work to avoid talking about it, it seems to me like it’s something you should talk about.”

you turn your head even further from him because you know he’s right. you’ve been holed up in your apartment, agonizing over what happened three nights ago, desperate to scream and cry about it to someone else. god knows you’ve done enough of that with yourself, but you’re reverting to old habits and it feels like you’re back to only knowing how to avoid, avoid, and keep avoiding.

“listen, i don’t want to push you, but i need you to know that i’m here for you.” his hand hovers over yours for a moment, silently asking permission before gently wrapping his fingers around yours. you clench your jaw and bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from forming in your eyes. honestly, you didn’t think you could produce anymore, but here you are, trying not to cry in front of your coworker turned close friend whom you’ve probably upset by ignoring him.

luke gains a little bit of hope when you squeeze his hand. he squeezes back, hoping you feel the love and care that he puts into it. you do, and it doesn’t help your case with the whole crying ordeal.

“thanks,” you whisper. the thickness in your voice completely gives you away. tilting your head up to try to stop the flow of tears is plain old silly at this point, and he watches with a weight heavy on his heart as they overflow and fall down your cheeks. the tears catch in the light of the only lamp that’s turned on in the room. “fuck. goddammit,” you curse through the tears, well aware they won’t stop anytime soon. “luke,” you cry.

“i’m here,” he replies so earnestly without missing a beat that you begin to cry harder. that’s the last straw for him. quickly, he stands and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought. with you sitting, your face barely reaches his chest, and your arms reach around his lower torso. he’s got one hand rubbing up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head into him. the way you hold onto him is desperate and breaks his heart, but he’s glad to give you something that you so clearly need. comfort.

“i–,” you try to explain, but you can’t get anywhere before choking on your own sobs.

“shhh, it’s okay. just let it out. i’m not going anywhere.” and he sticks to that promise, standing strong and unwavering, even after your tears run out and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away from him just yet. he doesn’t force a thing, just strokes the back of your head gently as a silent reminder that he’s there.

when you finally pull away, it’s only by a few inches, and he keeps his hands right where they are. he looks down at your face as you stare at the maroon fabric of his shirt and the tear stain you left behind. slowly, as if to not startle you, he bends down to be closer to your level. at first, you avoid meeting his eyes, but when the hand on your shoulder shifts up to your cheek and he gently wipes at the leftover tears, you let your gaze meet his. he gives you a smile, small and comforting, before speaking softly.

“i’m gonna make you some tea, alright?”

when you nod, his hands slide away from you, hesitant to let you go. your gaze follows his form as he turns and walks to the counter behind you, first grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet and taking the liberty to grab one for himself too. then he’s at the pantry for the tea bags and he can feel your eyes on him. once the tea bags are on the counter, he’s by your side again. he gives you another soft smile as he grips the sides of your chair and turns it and you to face the counter. somehow luke just knows that him staying in your line of sight is a comfort to you, proof that he’s right there. he doesn’t want you to have to strain your neck in order to feel safe.

his silence as he fills and turns on the kettle, then sits back down beside you to wait for it to boil is a comfort too. it makes a difference that he’s not making you explain anything.

with him, the passage of time isn’t so horrible, and it’s easy to wait for the tea to be ready. when he sets the mug down in front of you, he tells you to be careful since it’s hot, even though you already know it. that’s when you make the decision that you will tell him what’s kept you holed up in your apartment for three days straight, what made you cry into his arms and skip work today.

it takes you four minutes of failed attempts to open your mouth and force a sound out of your throat before you finally get any words out. four minutes of sipping tea and thinking about how to start or how grateful you are that he’s here.

first comes a big, deep breath and another long moment of quiet. and then you realize you can’t just get into you, so you do your best and start by skirting around the actual problem.

“i know this job–” you have to clear your throat, “i know this job is really hard.” that sentence is kind of stupid purely because of how obvious it is, but you’ve at least started to tell him what this is all about. “and we’ve all learned ways to cope with that. i just– the way that, uh,” you pause to try and collect yourself a bit, but it does nothing to keep your voice from getting quiet, “the way that this last case ended? it, um, it…” suddenly you’re unsure what to even say. luke places his hand over your own, easing its shaking. you take another deep breath.”i can’t– i can’t get it out of my head. i can’t get her dead body out of my head and i can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault.” 

he’s about to say something, assure you that it absolutely was not your fault, but then everything comes tumbling out.

“i know, logically, technically, that it’s not. i know that, i’ve rationalized this whole thing in my head, even out loud, over and over and over again for the past three days. i know, we didn’t profile him to be so paranoid. i played into his narcissism like i was supposed to, like anyone of us would have, but fuck! it was still my words that set him off, the shit i said got a bullet through her brain.” he squeezes your hand in support. “and when i wake up from the nightmares, i can still hear her whimpers as he held her at gunpoint, even worse, arguably, is her mom begging me to bring her home alive that same morning. you know what i told her? that we were doing everything we could to find her and bring her back, i promised.” the tears start up again. “i told her not to give up hope because the people i work with are incredibly good at their jobs. then i see her sobbing in the corner of the police station after rossi told her that her daughter was fucking dead. and you know what i fucking did? i put my head down and walked in the opposite direction with the excuse that reid could use some help taking down the evidence board.” 

your voice gets even shakier and the furrow in his worried brow deepens as you continue talking. “and i’m so ashamed, i’m so fucking ashamed, luke. i got her daughter killed and i couldn’t even tell her that–” a sob cuts you off, “that i’m sorry,” you cry. “i couldn’t face her. i couldn’t bear to see her crying about it or try and comfort her about it because i was too goddamn guilty to even look her in the eye. and now i see her and her dead daughter everytime i close my eyes.”

the silence after that is colossally heavy. to hear his softest voice calling your name as you stare into your half empty mug is enough to send more tears rushing down your cheeks. he sounds so heartbroken for you, like even he’s choked up by hearing your longwinded confession.

the way he moves is both careful and purposeful as he stands and urges you back into his embrace. this time your crying is quiet, just tears without sobs because you don’t have that left in you. it’s more short lived because it seems like your body’s finally run out of tears to give too. with one side of your face pressed against his shirt and his hands holding you there, it does feel a bit easier to breathe.

when he starts to talk, his voice is as soft as it has been all night. “i don’t want to tell you to just not feel ashamed or guilty. i wish you wouldn’t have to feel that way, really. but i want you to know that i understand. i don’t want to invalidate those things because they are real and they hurt and i understand why you’re feeling them. but it is not your fault. not for one second is it your fault. i’m sure you’ve reminded yourself this already, but we can never forget that it is only ever the fault of the people who pull the trigger on innocent lives.” 

you nod because he’s right, you’ve told yourself that many times. but you realize it makes a difference to hear these things out of his mouth, not just from your mind that was only desperate to ease your guilt. you suppose that’s what he wants too, but it’s somehow better.

he pulls away from you, and positions the chairs so that you’re sitting knee to knee as he holds both of your hands in his. he looks you in the eye as he speaks, every ounce of sincerity visible in his face and easy to hear in his voice.

“and we just can’t be perfect, we can’t be expected to be everything for everyone every time. dealing with family members who have lost their loved ones is one of, if not the, hardest thing that we have to do for this job. rossi was there for her this time, and it’s okay if it was too hard for you. what you did is completely understandable and completely okay. throughout this whole case, you followed procedure and you followed the profile. we all did. so if any of us stood where you did, with the mother and with the unsub, the same exact same thing could have happened. would you blame me for it if i were in your place?” he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. 

slowly, with his hand still cupping your face, you shake your head. “and would you forgive me for it?” it takes you a long moment of holding back more cries to answer, silently and slowly again. up and down, just once, you nod your head.

“there’s your answer. you’re allowed to not blame yourself and you’re allowed to forgive yourself. you are allowed to feel okay because we can’t fix this world, but we are making it better and we certainly deserve our own happiness. there will always be people who die and the people they leave behind. we just have to keep going because we are still saving lives. even more, our lives deserve to be protected as much as anyone else’s. we do that by allowing ourselves happiness, a life outside of all of the pain and gore and monsters of the world we work in. i’m sorry, and the things i say can’t make this all just go away. but i’m here for you and i think that being reminded of these things is a must for all of us. today’s one of those days where you deserve to be reminded.”

you don’t even think you could really cry again, even if you wanted to, but you certainly feel like it. only this time, it’s out of relief. your guilty conscience still tries to fight with his words, but the part of you that knows he’s right is holding onto his comfort with all it’s got and it’s making you want to burst into tears again. being reminded of your right to let it go is something you’ve needed, not just for this case, but for months. you didn’t even realize, but you’ve holding onto little things here and there and letting it build up until it all blew up in your face last friday night. so to let that all out and feel comforted is a relief far stronger than anything you’ve felt before.

“thank you.” your voice is back at a whisper, but you hope he can hear how much you mean it. you think he does when he smiles.

“of course. you’ll always have me, and you have everyone else on the team too, you know that.”

you nod and do your best to smile back. “thank you,” you repeat. you don’t even know what else to say. “and um, i’m always here for you too, luke. you know, just when i’m not a complete hot mess.” the lighter tone in your voice as you attempt a joke is luke’s relief, the relief that you’re on the way to feeling better.

“thanks,” he chuckles lightly. the sound makes you glad.

“hey luke?”

“yeah?” he replied in earnest, eager to give.

“can we order some thai food and watch movies until we fall asleep on the couch?”

that really makes him happy, and he grins like he always does to show it. “you know it.” so, he buys you food and tells you to pick all the movies. he lets you lean on him when you get tired, then carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep halfway through the first film. he stalls in your room by fixing the hair the falls onto your face and pressing a light kiss to your forehead. then he leaves the door cracked, just in case, and takes a while to fall asleep on your couch after putting the leftovers in the fridge. he cries a little, because he hates that it’s so hard for you, and it’s hard for him too. 

at the end of the day though, he’s just glad you’ll be okay.

[lunarzstarz]

(12 Days of Kinkmas) Day 3: Exhibitionism

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Steve Harrington

Content Warning: NSFW 18+ minors dni, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, fingering, spanking, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dom(ish) bisexual Eddie and sub(ish) reader/Steve, nicknames (sweetheart, sweet thing, baby, good boy), Steve has a bisexual awakening, Steve’s thick dick (honestly cannot stop thinking about it)

Summary: You and Eddie give Steve an extra special Christmas gift…

A/N: Let’s just pretend I didn’t post this 2 days late…anyways I’ve wanted to write a Steddie x reader fic forever so here it is I hope you like it :)

As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Word Count: 3.5k

You were laying on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, legs resting on his lap while he watched the TV. Winter was here and it was time to start saving money and thinking about Christmas presents for friends and family. 

“Okay so far I’ve got a mug for Wayne, new dice for all the boys, the girls are getting make up, Nancy a new dress, Robin a new sweater, but I still can’t think of anything for Steve” you sigh, setting the list aside. You and Steve had been friends for a long time, but when it came to birthdays and Christmas you were clueless on what to get him, never feeling fully satisfied with the gifts you gave him and he always managed to get you something great. 

“What are you getting me?” he turns his attention to you, and you roll your eyes, throwing your pen at him. 

“Cologne and a blowjob” you reply bluntly, teasing of course, you had an extra special gift for Eddie this year.  

“Same as last year? You know me so well” he smiles blissfully “Can I get a preview though? These pants are getting pretty tight sweetheart” he palms himself and you lightly kick his stomach. 

“Come on Eds, what do we get Steve? He’s your friend too you know” you huff, wrecking your brain to think of something better than last year. 

“A girlfriend?” Eddie snickers.

“Oh come on that isn’t nice, you have to stop bullying him for that” you tut, nudging him. 

“I’m sorry I can't help it, the man probably hasn’t got laid since eighty four” he laughs again, focusing on the TV again. 

“Yeah well, lest we forget that you would be a single virgin right now if it wasn’t for me, so you have no room to talk” you remind him. 

“I know, but I’m not and I love you for it” he shifts from his position to lay on top of you “Come on, you’ve been gift planning all morning, I’m bored.” You knew what that meant, especially by the bulge now pressing against your thigh. 

“You really are insatiable, you know that?” you look down at him as he rests his head on your chest.

“Thanks baby” he grins up at you stupidly before sitting back again. You positioned yourself on your knees next to him and your hands went straight for his belt. He lifted his hips so you could slide his jeans and underwear off, his hard cock resting against his stomach. 

“You owe me later” you say before taking him by the base and pumping him at a painfully slow pace. There was so much pre cum, like he was aching for your mouth, like you hadn’t sucked him off this morning already. 

“Don’t worry I’ll fuck you nice a good later, just shit- stop being a tease” he hisses when you swipe your thumb over his leaky slit. You lean down and spit onto his tip, letting it run along his length to help you slide over him easier. He bucked his hips impatiently, his head hitting your lips when you lean down to wrap them around him. 

He gathered your hair in one hand, the light tug felt nice as you slid him further into your mouth, he never pushed you, knowing your throat was probably still sore from his roughness earlier. So instead he let you do it your way, slow and teasing, but keeping up a pace knew got him there after a while and made him feel good. This was the pace that made him make all those sounds you loved, the whiney sighs, the deep groans. 

“Fuuuck sweetheart, never get tired of this mouth” he moans, thumb brushing the side of your head as you take him halfway, pumping the rest of him, bringing your free hand up to cup his balls. “Love having my cock in your mouth don’t you? Take it so well” he praises, hips moving involuntarily. 

You knew it would take him a while to cum like this, but you didn’t mind, he was right, no matter how much you acted annoyed when he asked you to suck him off, you always would. You loved the weight of his length on your tongue or when his salty cum dripped down your throat. So you went on like this for at least twenty more minutes, stopping every time he was close to build up his release. 

“Gonna cum next time baby, just keep sucking, just like that” he instructed, balls tightening as he felt his orgasm approach. 

You paid no attention to the sound of tires on gravel outside, or the footsteps approaching the trailer, you were only focused on making Eddie feel good. That was until there was a knock on the door a few feet away from you. 

You pull off Eddie with a pop “Shit, it’s Steve!” you whisper yell. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He matches your tone.

“He’s here to pick up the things I got for the christmas party, quick put it away!” you go to sit up and fix yourself, but Eddie’s grip remains on your hair. 

“We aren't finished here yet, maybe we could give him an early christmas present” he has that menacing smirk on his face. 

“Eddie no, you have no idea how he would react!” you warn him. 

“Please, he’s a guy who hasn’t been with anyone other than his right hand in at least six months, trust me” he pushes you back down again “now get back to work, it hurts” he groans when your tongue meets his tip again. “It’s open!” Eddie calls in a sing-song voice, he couldn't wait to see Steve’s face.

“Hey, is Y/n around? Said she had some…stuff for t-the…party” Steve trails off when he turns from shutting the door to see the two of you. 

“She’s a bit, christ- busy right now, but I’m sure she will be more than happy to help once she’s finished” Eddie says, trying to keep his cool. 

“I-I um could come back later if-” Steve was flushing pink, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, your mouth wrapping around Eddie’s cock, the way he was looking at him like he was next.

“Don’t worry about it Stevie” Eddie says, calling him by the nickname you usually had reserved for him “take a seat, won’t be much longer with a mouth like this” Steve took a seat in the armchair opposite, eyes blown wide as he watches Eddie lose himself, he looked like he was about to cum in his pants. “Think she’s got a present for you Steve, a real good one” he says, head falling back. 

“That’s it sweetheart, right there fuck- fuck- right there” he whines loudly, holding you in place as he let his load into your mouth. You give him a few more pumps, making sure you got every last drop. He pulls you off, spit and cum dribbling down your chin, you swallow and wipe it with the back of your hand. 

You look over at Steve who is still staring at you open mouthed, pupils blown wide from watching you. “Hi” you give him a shy smile and he gulps, Eddie sitting with a smug grin on his face. 

“You gonna give Steve his present? He seems like he really needs it” Eddie’s eyes drift to the prominent bulge in Steve’s sweatpants, Steve turning bright red and trying to hide it. 

You knew what Eddie was hinting too, you were no stranger to him letting other people have you or threesomes with his friends, it was just something that was a part of your relationship. Eddie never got insecure or jealous either, he got off on it and after had their way with you, Eddie would be there to fuck you ten times harder, it was his way of reminding you, no matter who you slept with, in the end he was always better. 

Eddie got up from his spot on the couch, planting a kiss on the top of your head as a way to say thank you “Your turn Stevie.” 

Steve gulped “I- uh, you don’t have to-” he started rambling.

“Relax, she just wants to make you feel good, nothing to worry about” Eddie gestures for him to take his spot next to you. 

“And you don’t- you’re okay with this?” he asks Eddie, confused by the whole idea.

“More than okay” Eddie says casually, taking the cigarette that was behind his ear and lighting it “you don’t have to of course, up to you, but you look like you need to let off a load, that right hand not cutting it anymore?” he teases. 

Steve rolled his eyes, Eddie had been bringing up the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in months almost every time they were together, it was really starting to piss him off. He looked over to you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from sucking on Eddie’s dick, tits almost spilling out of your shirt. Eddie was right, his hand wasn’t cutting it anymore and the tension had been building for weeks now. 

“Okay” he said, standing up from the armchair and sat next to you “are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks you now. 

“Are you?” you gave him a weak smile, he looked nervous, you couldn’t blame him after being best friends with you for years.

“Yeah” he said, taking a deep breath “should I?” he tugs on his waist band. 

“All you need to do is relax, just do what feels right” you place a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, his lips parting slightly as his eyes shut. You kissed along his jaw and stopped below his ear “You gonna let me take care of you Stevie?” you ask, grazing your hand over the outline of his bulge. 

“Fuck yes” he says, grinding against the palm of your hand, the touch of someone else already feeling ten times better than his own. You smile against the skin of his neck, placing light kisses, finding a spot to suck on to leave a few marks. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Eddie has stripped down to his underwear and shirt, lounging in the armchair, cigarette in one hand while he lazily strokes his cock with the other as he watches you two. 

You pull back the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, reaching for his hard-on. He sighs when you brush against his leaking tip, he was already making such a mess for you. He lifted his hips to get out of his clothes, bottom half bare so you could get more access. Your eyes go wide, out of all the people you had been with, Eddie always had the biggest dick. Steve wasn’t as long as Eddie, but definitely much wider, you couldn’t help but think how he would feel stretching you out. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he realizes you were staring. 

“Nothing, it’s just big” you practically drool at the sight, taking him by the base and giving him a light squeeze. You leaned down to lick a long stripe from his sack to his tip, tongue lapping up the pre cum that had dribbled down his length, you felt his hips buck beneath you. 

“Please” he threw his head back once you suck his tip into your mouth, starting to pump his girthy length. You let yourself drool a gag on his tip, the sloppier you were the more he seemed to like it. His hands fisting at his sides, you pull off him, pumping your spit and his pre cum along his shaft slowly, not wanting him to bust his load so soon no matter how much he needed it after so long. 

Eddie stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up again, taking a seat behind you on the third and final spot on the couch. “Don’t tease the poor baby sweetheart” Eddie teased, Steve twitched in your hand at the pet name “get sucking.” You did as he said and placed Steve back in your mouth, picking up your pace “She likes it when you hold her hair, loves it when you fuck her throat” Eddie said, watching Steve struggle to find something to hold on to. 

He gathered your hair up, lacing his fingers close to your scalp so he could tug lightly. You felt him hesitantly pushing your head, if it were Eddie he’d be fucking your throat raw by now. “Don’t be shy Stevie, she can take it, can’t you sweetheart?” Eddie says, hand coming down to connect with your ass, the pain dull considering your clothes still being on, but it went straight to your core. 

“Mhmm” you hum, making Steve groan as it vibrates through him, his confidence building as his tip starts prodding the back of your throat. Eddie had trained you well when it came to deepthroating, but with Steve’s girth it was a bit harder than usual. You let your jaw go slack, Steve pushing your head down further until you gagged, then pulling you off again to compose yourself.

“Come on, you can do better than that” Eddie coos, pulling your pants and underwear over your ass and down to your knees, spanking you harder. “Use her, she can handle it” another smack, harder again, this one definitely leaving a mark. “Gonna get her nice and ready for you Stevie, you want Steve to fuck you sweet thing?” he asks, placing a kiss to the mark he left behind. 

“Yes, so bad” you reply, another smack. 

“Best get to work then, gotta show him how good you can be for him” Eddie said, spreading your ass and spitting on it, letting his drool run down to your cunt, mixing with your slick. 

You let Steve guide his cock back into your mouth, prepared to take him all the way. He pushed you this time, when he felt the restriction of your throat, he slid further in “Fuck, feels so f-fucking good” he whined, hips bucking up to fit the last of his length down your throat. 

“That’s it, taking him so well, sweet thing” Eddie praised, his fingers coming down to tease your entrance. “All she wanted to do was make you happy Stevie, wanted to give you something special this year, isn’t that sweet” Eddie said, pushing his fingers into you “Though I just think she wanted an excuse to have your cock.”

You can’t say anything, too busy focusing on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and Steve fucking your throat. “Oh shit, m’gonna cum” Steve moans grew louder, fucking into you faster, the feeling of your throat constricting around him so tight was bringing him so close to the edge. 

“Go ahead, cum down her throat, she wants it bad don’t you?” Eddie felt you squeeze around his fingers “fuck yeah she wants it, wants you to fill her up.” 

Steve’s grip on your hair grew tighter as he held you flush against his base, the scarce hair of his happy trail ticking your cheek. He came with a loud whine, thighs shaking beneath you as his cum painted your throat.

“Holy shit” he panted, pulling you off so you could get your breath back. 

You gasp, spit and cum dripping onto your chest “Did such a good job baby” Eddie pulled you back so he could kiss you, partially to soothe you and partially to taste Steve on your lips. “Look at him, made him feel so good” you both watched as Steve tried to gather himself, chest heaving beneath his shirt, hair clinging to his damp forehead. “Think our girl needs a reward don’t you Harrington?” Steve opened his eyes to look at him, our girl. 

“Y-yeah” he said, starting to come down from his high. 

“What do you say sweetheart? You want Steve to fuck your pussy, think he deserves it?” Eddie asks, kissing the side of your neck, hand reaching to your front to stroke your clit. 

“Fuck- yes!” you moan, leaning into his touch. Eddie leaned back, placing you between his legs so he could watch Steve fuck into you. 

“Come on Steve, don’t make her wait any longer” Eddie encourages him out of his pleasured daze. He gets up on his knees in front of you, getting rid of the bunched up clothes around your ankles. Eddie hooked his hands behind the backs of your knees to pull them to your chest, making sure you were spread for Steve. 

“Pretty isn’t she” Eddie says when he catches him staring at your slick cunt. 

“So pretty” Steve agrees, stroking his cock a few times to get it hard again. Tapping his tip against your wet clit “Just, let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nod and Eddie laughs “Don’t think she will, but how sweet, isn’t he such a good boy for us sweets?” Eddie smiles up at Steve, his cheeks heating up again, did Eddie have this effect on everyone? 

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you, the two of them watching your face contort at the stretch. “Fuuuck” you gasp, the sting was something new. 

Eddie grinded against your back, groaning as he watched Steve’s thick cock sink deeper into you. “That’s it baby, taking it so well” Eddie whispers whiney praises in your ear. 

“S-so big” you let out a shaky breath, the ache making your eyes water as he bottoms out. You hold onto his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he starts the slow rock of his hips. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight” Steve grips onto your hips as he pulls out to the tip, slamming back into you. 

“Oh my-” the air is knocked from your lungs as he repeated his actions. You were unable to form words, respond to whatever Eddie was whispering to you with loud cries or whimpers, he soon gave up and focused on rutting his hips into you. 

Eddie didn’t think Steve had it in him, but he was pounding into you at an unforgivable pace, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs making the lost lewd sounds echo off the walls. Steve doubled over, hitting you at a deeper angle making you scream with pleasure as his thick cock dragged against your g spot. 

His face was inches from yours and Eddie’s, he leaned down and kissed you, sloppy but you didn’t mind. Then after a few seconds he pulled away, looking at Eddie, you could see a switch go off in his mind as he leaned in and kissed him on the lips, you felt Eddie shiver beneath you. Steve pulled away again, clearly shocked at his own actions, but not disappointed. 

“Knew it” Eddie said to you, sounding winded like Steve had taken his breath away. 

Steve didn’t stop or comment on the kiss at the time, instead he picked up his pace, fucking into you brutally. It was filthy, the wet sounds of your pussy, Steve’s moans and Eddie panting in your ear, hot breath on your neck as he chased his high. You were all covered in a sheet of sweat, it beading on Steve's forehead as he tried to keep up his animalistic pace, the smell of sex in the air. 

You were in heaven, body pressed between two of the hottest boys in Hawkins, it felt more like your christmas present. Tears welled up in your eyes as the feeling of core shaking pleasure took over you, Steve’s hips stuttering and Eddie’s rutting faster against you, all three of you chasing your highs. 

“Aww look, you’re making her cry Stevie” Eddie coos, letting his hands roam up your shirt to your tits. “Is Steve making you feel so good? You gonna cum sweet thing?” he pinched your nipples hard making you shriek, smiling against the skin on your neck as he started sucking on it. 

“Oh fuck- shit- I’m gonna cum again, where you want it?” Steve grunted, hips faltering as his orgasm approached. 

“I-inside” was all you could manage as you reached your release. One last drag of his cock had you cumming with a loud cry, pure pleasure coursing through your core, cunt clinging tightly to Steve, tipping him over the edge too.

“Holy- fuck, fuck!” he moaned, thick spurts of his cum coating your walls and filling you up. He fucked his load into you, making sure you got every last drop. Eddie wasn’t long to follow, his hips coming to a stop and the feeling of warm cum on your back a few seconds later. 

The three of you lay there, stacked on top of each other unable to move, not saying a word all too fucked out to form a sentence. The only sound was the three of you catching your breath, basking in the after glow of sex. You let your eyes drift shut, head fuzzy, knowing that someday this would happen again. 

[sammyluvr]

two mugs, half empty — luke alvez

cw : bau!gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, feelings of guilt and shame, nightmare mentions, talk of canon typical violence, crying, 2.8K words. requested !

summary : luke comes to check on you after you call in sick from work, suspicious that there's something more going on.

“you look like hell.”

“wow, thank you, luke. way to compliment somebody,” you deadpan, even though he said it with a voice full of empathy. he gives you a good-natured roll of his eyes before his face returns to that concerned look you opened your apartment door to.

“but seriously, did you sleep at all over the weekend?” you want to hate how much he cares about you, but the sincerity of his voice has you nearly ready to cave. 

“come in,” you offer, completely ignoring his question because the answer is “no, not really.” he raises his eyebrows at your lack of response, but steps in after you anyways. he can guess the answer well enough from the exhaustion evident in your whole figure.

you sit down with him in the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before he can say no to it. his gaze on you is heavy, but you ignore it in favor of examining the wood of the table in front of you. since you won’t say anything, he goes first.

“i came to check on you,” he states the obvious, “i’m– we’re kinda worried about you, you know? like, you haven’t responded to any of my texts all day and you never call in sick, even when you probably should, so i figured you’d probably be bedridden for you to make the choice to stay home.” he pauses for a long moment, as if inviting for you to explain why you’re, in fact, not bedridden, and not really physically sick at all. you don’t say a word. “so,” he prompts, “what’s up? why’d you turn down drinks with the rest of the team on saturday? kinda feels like you’re avoiding us.”

“i am avoiding you guys,” your voice comes out far quieter than you intended. you had wanted to sound nonchalant, and all you got was exhaustion. you sigh before continuing, “because you’re profilers and i don’t want to talk about it.” he sighs too.

“if it’s so bad that you went to the lengths to call off sick from work to avoid talking about it, it seems to me like it’s something you should talk about.”

you turn your head even further from him because you know he’s right. you’ve been holed up in your apartment, agonizing over what happened three nights ago, desperate to scream and cry about it to someone else. god knows you’ve done enough of that with yourself, but you’re reverting to old habits and it feels like you’re back to only knowing how to avoid, avoid, and keep avoiding.

“listen, i don’t want to push you, but i need you to know that i’m here for you.” his hand hovers over yours for a moment, silently asking permission before gently wrapping his fingers around yours. you clench your jaw and bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from forming in your eyes. honestly, you didn’t think you could produce anymore, but here you are, trying not to cry in front of your coworker turned close friend whom you’ve probably upset by ignoring him.

luke gains a little bit of hope when you squeeze his hand. he squeezes back, hoping you feel the love and care that he puts into it. you do, and it doesn’t help your case with the whole crying ordeal.

“thanks,” you whisper. the thickness in your voice completely gives you away. tilting your head up to try to stop the flow of tears is plain old silly at this point, and he watches with a weight heavy on his heart as they overflow and fall down your cheeks. the tears catch in the light of the only lamp that’s turned on in the room. “fuck. goddammit,” you curse through the tears, well aware they won’t stop anytime soon. “luke,” you cry.

“i’m here,” he replies so earnestly without missing a beat that you begin to cry harder. that’s the last straw for him. quickly, he stands and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought. with you sitting, your face barely reaches his chest, and your arms reach around his lower torso. he’s got one hand rubbing up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head into him. the way you hold onto him is desperate and breaks his heart, but he’s glad to give you something that you so clearly need. comfort.

“i–,” you try to explain, but you can’t get anywhere before choking on your own sobs.

“shhh, it’s okay. just let it out. i’m not going anywhere.” and he sticks to that promise, standing strong and unwavering, even after your tears run out and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away from him just yet. he doesn’t force a thing, just strokes the back of your head gently as a silent reminder that he’s there.

when you finally pull away, it’s only by a few inches, and he keeps his hands right where they are. he looks down at your face as you stare at the maroon fabric of his shirt and the tear stain you left behind. slowly, as if to not startle you, he bends down to be closer to your level. at first, you avoid meeting his eyes, but when the hand on your shoulder shifts up to your cheek and he gently wipes at the leftover tears, you let your gaze meet his. he gives you a smile, small and comforting, before speaking softly.

“i’m gonna make you some tea, alright?”

when you nod, his hands slide away from you, hesitant to let you go. your gaze follows his form as he turns and walks to the counter behind you, first grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet and taking the liberty to grab one for himself too. then he’s at the pantry for the tea bags and he can feel your eyes on him. once the tea bags are on the counter, he’s by your side again. he gives you another soft smile as he grips the sides of your chair and turns it and you to face the counter. somehow luke just knows that him staying in your line of sight is a comfort to you, proof that he’s right there. he doesn’t want you to have to strain your neck in order to feel safe.

his silence as he fills and turns on the kettle, then sits back down beside you to wait for it to boil is a comfort too. it makes a difference that he’s not making you explain anything.

with him, the passage of time isn’t so horrible, and it’s easy to wait for the tea to be ready. when he sets the mug down in front of you, he tells you to be careful since it’s hot, even though you already know it. that’s when you make the decision that you will tell him what’s kept you holed up in your apartment for three days straight, what made you cry into his arms and skip work today.

it takes you four minutes of failed attempts to open your mouth and force a sound out of your throat before you finally get any words out. four minutes of sipping tea and thinking about how to start or how grateful you are that he’s here.

first comes a big, deep breath and another long moment of quiet. and then you realize you can’t just get into you, so you do your best and start by skirting around the actual problem.

“i know this job–” you have to clear your throat, “i know this job is really hard.” that sentence is kind of stupid purely because of how obvious it is, but you’ve at least started to tell him what this is all about. “and we’ve all learned ways to cope with that. i just– the way that, uh,” you pause to try and collect yourself a bit, but it does nothing to keep your voice from getting quiet, “the way that this last case ended? it, um, it…” suddenly you’re unsure what to even say. luke places his hand over your own, easing its shaking. you take another deep breath.”i can’t– i can’t get it out of my head. i can’t get her dead body out of my head and i can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault.” 

he’s about to say something, assure you that it absolutely was not your fault, but then everything comes tumbling out.

“i know, logically, technically, that it’s not. i know that, i’ve rationalized this whole thing in my head, even out loud, over and over and over again for the past three days. i know, we didn’t profile him to be so paranoid. i played into his narcissism like i was supposed to, like anyone of us would have, but fuck! it was still my words that set him off, the shit i said got a bullet through her brain.” he squeezes your hand in support. “and when i wake up from the nightmares, i can still hear her whimpers as he held her at gunpoint, even worse, arguably, is her mom begging me to bring her home alive that same morning. you know what i told her? that we were doing everything we could to find her and bring her back, i promised.” the tears start up again. “i told her not to give up hope because the people i work with are incredibly good at their jobs. then i see her sobbing in the corner of the police station after rossi told her that her daughter was fucking dead. and you know what i fucking did? i put my head down and walked in the opposite direction with the excuse that reid could use some help taking down the evidence board.” 

your voice gets even shakier and the furrow in his worried brow deepens as you continue talking. “and i’m so ashamed, i’m so fucking ashamed, luke. i got her daughter killed and i couldn’t even tell her that–” a sob cuts you off, “that i’m sorry,” you cry. “i couldn’t face her. i couldn’t bear to see her crying about it or try and comfort her about it because i was too goddamn guilty to even look her in the eye. and now i see her and her dead daughter everytime i close my eyes.”

the silence after that is colossally heavy. to hear his softest voice calling your name as you stare into your half empty mug is enough to send more tears rushing down your cheeks. he sounds so heartbroken for you, like even he’s choked up by hearing your longwinded confession.

the way he moves is both careful and purposeful as he stands and urges you back into his embrace. this time your crying is quiet, just tears without sobs because you don’t have that left in you. it’s more short lived because it seems like your body’s finally run out of tears to give too. with one side of your face pressed against his shirt and his hands holding you there, it does feel a bit easier to breathe.

when he starts to talk, his voice is as soft as it has been all night. “i don’t want to tell you to just not feel ashamed or guilty. i wish you wouldn’t have to feel that way, really. but i want you to know that i understand. i don’t want to invalidate those things because they are real and they hurt and i understand why you’re feeling them. but it is not your fault. not for one second is it your fault. i’m sure you’ve reminded yourself this already, but we can never forget that it is only ever the fault of the people who pull the trigger on innocent lives.” 

you nod because he’s right, you’ve told yourself that many times. but you realize it makes a difference to hear these things out of his mouth, not just from your mind that was only desperate to ease your guilt. you suppose that’s what he wants too, but it’s somehow better.

he pulls away from you, and positions the chairs so that you’re sitting knee to knee as he holds both of your hands in his. he looks you in the eye as he speaks, every ounce of sincerity visible in his face and easy to hear in his voice.

“and we just can’t be perfect, we can’t be expected to be everything for everyone every time. dealing with family members who have lost their loved ones is one of, if not the, hardest thing that we have to do for this job. rossi was there for her this time, and it’s okay if it was too hard for you. what you did is completely understandable and completely okay. throughout this whole case, you followed procedure and you followed the profile. we all did. so if any of us stood where you did, with the mother and with the unsub, the same exact same thing could have happened. would you blame me for it if i were in your place?” he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. 

slowly, with his hand still cupping your face, you shake your head. “and would you forgive me for it?” it takes you a long moment of holding back more cries to answer, silently and slowly again. up and down, just once, you nod your head.

“there’s your answer. you’re allowed to not blame yourself and you’re allowed to forgive yourself. you are allowed to feel okay because we can’t fix this world, but we are making it better and we certainly deserve our own happiness. there will always be people who die and the people they leave behind. we just have to keep going because we are still saving lives. even more, our lives deserve to be protected as much as anyone else’s. we do that by allowing ourselves happiness, a life outside of all of the pain and gore and monsters of the world we work in. i’m sorry, and the things i say can’t make this all just go away. but i’m here for you and i think that being reminded of these things is a must for all of us. today’s one of those days where you deserve to be reminded.”

you don’t even think you could really cry again, even if you wanted to, but you certainly feel like it. only this time, it’s out of relief. your guilty conscience still tries to fight with his words, but the part of you that knows he’s right is holding onto his comfort with all it’s got and it’s making you want to burst into tears again. being reminded of your right to let it go is something you’ve needed, not just for this case, but for months. you didn’t even realize, but you’ve holding onto little things here and there and letting it build up until it all blew up in your face last friday night. so to let that all out and feel comforted is a relief far stronger than anything you’ve felt before.

“thank you.” your voice is back at a whisper, but you hope he can hear how much you mean it. you think he does when he smiles.

“of course. you’ll always have me, and you have everyone else on the team too, you know that.”

you nod and do your best to smile back. “thank you,” you repeat. you don’t even know what else to say. “and um, i’m always here for you too, luke. you know, just when i’m not a complete hot mess.” the lighter tone in your voice as you attempt a joke is luke’s relief, the relief that you’re on the way to feeling better.

“thanks,” he chuckles lightly. the sound makes you glad.

“hey luke?”

“yeah?” he replied in earnest, eager to give.

“can we order some thai food and watch movies until we fall asleep on the couch?”

that really makes him happy, and he grins like he always does to show it. “you know it.” so, he buys you food and tells you to pick all the movies. he lets you lean on him when you get tired, then carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep halfway through the first film. he stalls in your room by fixing the hair the falls onto your face and pressing a light kiss to your forehead. then he leaves the door cracked, just in case, and takes a while to fall asleep on your couch after putting the leftovers in the fridge. he cries a little, because he hates that it’s so hard for you, and it’s hard for him too. 

at the end of the day though, he’s just glad you’ll be okay.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 20

Life in the QZ gets worse and you're called outside the walls again. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-19 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (broken up), Tommy Miller x Reader

Warnings: Mild smut, talk of extreme police action, description of injuries. No use of Y/N. Minors, DNI 18+ only

Length: 6.5k

Saturday, June 11, 2011 - One Year Later 

“I can only keep them off your back so long,” Elias was all but stalking you into an operating room as you made sure your hair was tucked below your scrub cap. “At some point…” 

“I’m not asking for you to keep them off my back,” you said, pausing at the door to go scrub in. “Don’t need to lie, don’t need make up an excuse. Tell them I think they’re fascists and that I’m not going to prop up their dystopian police state.” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. 

“They’re going to do it with or without you there,” he said. “This isn’t the hill you want to die on…” 

“I think it’s exactly the hill to fucking die on, actually,” you snapped. 

“And if they decide to execute you, too?” He demanded. “What then?” 

“Sounds like you’ll need to find someone to fill in for me on Saturdays,” you shrugged. He glared at you. “Can I go do this hernia repair now or are you going to keep trying to get me to be a tool in the continued downfall of humanity?” 

“Sometimes we can’t solve everything ourselves,” he said. “Sometimes we have to go along with awful things because we can do more good if we survive it.” 

You sighed. 

“They don’t know shit about medicine, right?” You said. He nodded once. “Great. Tell them you really just can’t spare me because I’m the only one who can do some stupid common surgical procedure so you need me here when I’m on duty. Because it’s just raining appendicitis here in the QZ. I imagine that will satisfy them and they can figure out how to check the pulse of someone they’ve hanged themselves without dragging me into it…” 

“Might work,” he sighed. 

“None of us should be a part of this,” you said. “Not just me. None of us should. It goes against our oath and even if it didn’t, it’s cruel and wrong.” 

“I agree,” he said. “But imagine how many people would die if they executed the entire clinic for insubordination. Oaths are complicated things. Sometimes, we have to look beyond just ourselves and consider what’s best for the whole.” 

“What’s best for the whole is FEDRA not executing people who have broken curfew one too many times because suddenly they’re dissidents,” you replied and then you sighed. “I do need to actually operate, I’ve got another hernia repair after this one… I’m sorry you’re stuck dealing with this shit. If you can keep me out of it while letting me keep my head, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Just… try not to call any of the guards fascist to their face, alright?” He said. “I’d rather you not end up shot in the street.” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

You went in to scrub and ground your teeth. Things had been steadily going down hill with FEDRA for the last six months. 

Patrols had increased drastically. They instituted a curfew about 10 months back that people didn’t take seriously at first - especially not the speakeasy crowd. Being home by midnight seemed outrageous. 

Then the executions started. 

They waited a few months before they started killing people. Gave people citations. Warned them that they’d be seen as conspirators with the Fireflies, the militarized resistance to FEDRA. From what you’d heard on your regular visits to the radio - you were still hoping against hope to find Cassie one day, though you were far less certain of her survival than you’d ever been of Joel and Tommy’s - that the fireflies were gaining strength across all the other QZs. People were angry that things weren’t getting better. You didn’t blame them. 

The first sign you had that you, specifically, needed to worry about getting roped in was when Andrew showed up to your apartment one evening, looking distraught. 

“Hey,” you frowned, pulling him inside. You led him to your couch and he sat down, almost in a daze. “What’s going on?” 

“Guards just came by, they took Jess, said they needed her, they’re doing something outside the walls, I don’t know what they need her for out there, it doesn’t make sense,” his voice cracked. “I don’t know what they need her for, what if something happens? She’s never been out there, she’s from Boston, she came right here, what if…” 

You pulled him into a hug, his arms going around your waist, his head buried in your stomach and he let out a choking sob. 

“It’s OK,” you ran your fingers through his hair. “It’ll be OK, they’ll look out for her. She’s going to be OK.” 

He spent the night that night, you sandwiched between him and Tommy (“This is weird, right?” Tommy said. “I mean, I’m fine with it, I just want to know that I’m not crazy.” “It’s weird,” you and Andrew said together.) Jess came back the next day, shaken but otherwise OK. It was the first of numerous trips for her outside the walls of the QZ. They were trying to use her to justify increased militarized presence through psychology, how that would help keep raiders under control. They were trying to prove their own worth. It was only a matter of time before they started roping in medical staff and teachers, too. 

Meanwhile, the Fireflies were getting more outspoken, more vocal and more violent. The tighter FEDRA seemed to squeeze, the more people wanted to back the Fireflies. It was so incredibly stupid on FEDRA’s part it took all you had to not walk off both your jobs. The only thing that kept you going was the fact that it was the best way you could help people. There were no schools or clinics that weren’t run by FEDRA. If you wanted to teach, if you wanted to heal, there were no other options. 

And you could use your connections to keep Tommy, Joel and Tess safe. 

They were still making their smuggling runs. You tried talking Tommy out of it every time he was about to leave for another one, all but begging him to stay with you instead of going out again.

“What, and leave Tess and Joel without all my skills to back them up?” He kissed your forehead. “C’mon. I’m basically the only reason they’re still alive, Sweetheart. Can’t let them go it alone.” 

So you kept them stocked in trauma supplies, stealing things from work with even greater regularity. Tommy kept showing up at your door battered and bruised. You’d taken to keeping a suture kit at your house, regularly needing to stitch his wounds closed. 

“I really fucking hate this,” you said one night, stitching a knife wound to his shoulder closed as you sat behind him on your bed. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed. 

“No, I mean it,” you said. “I really hate it. I really hate seeing you hurt, I really hate patching you up, I really hate that you feel like you have to do this. I really fucking hate it, Tommy, and I wish you’d stop going out there.” 

You tied off the suture and got the kit cleaned up, stashing what was unused and still sterile back in your abused at home supply kit. 

“Hey,” he took your hand and pulled you between his legs, looking up at you. “I’m not goin’ out there for nothing…” 

“You’re going out there for ration cards,” you snapped. “Which is damn near nothing.” 

“Goin’ out there for shit we can’t get here,” he said, untying your robe and unwrapping you slowly, like you were a gift. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach, kissing up your body to your breastbone. “Some of it is important shit. And I have to try to keep Joel and Tess safe. I’m not tryin’ to get hurt, I’m really not tryin’ to hurt you. I’m doing it because it’s important and it’s the only damn way I got to do something important in this fuckin’ place.” 

“You’re important to me,” you said quietly, running your fingers through his hair. “Be important that way.”

“And you’re important to me,” he kissed your chest again. “But would you listen if I asked you to stop working at the clinic?” 

“I’m not risking my life at the clinic.” 

“You’ve got your brain to offer,” he half smiled up at you. “I’m a soldier. All I’ve got’s my body, so I’m usin’ it.” He tugged you closer. “Hopin’ you’ll let me.” 

You sighed, straddling him, kissing him, your arms draped carefully over his shoulders so as to not disturb his fresh sutures. 

“Really don’t encourage a lot of physical activity so soon after a medical procedure,” you said as he slid your robe to the floor and trailed his lips down your throat. “Should probably make you wait…” 

“Swear to God I’ll lose my mind if you don’t let me inside you,” he growled and you laughed. He took the opportunity to pick you up and lay you down with a surprised shriek. 

“And you really shouldn’t be doing that,” you said between kisses. “You’re going to rip your stitches out!” 

“Worth it.” 

He quickly pulled off his pants and thrust into you, making you gasp and moan. “Fuck, Sweetheart, Goddamn,” he groaned. “How do you always feel this fuckin’ good?” 

You ground your hips into him and he pressed his lips to the hollow of your throat with a delicious moan, starting to work himself in and out of you. He knew just how you liked to be fucked now, knew all the places inside you to find, how to work your clit, touch your skin, suck your nipples into his mouth. He pulled you tight and close to him as his pace increased and your orgasm built and you fell apart together, gasping for breath as he lay on top of you. You lifted your head just enough to see his sutures before collapsing back down into bed. 

“You got fucking lucky, Miller,” you panted. “Because I’d never fuck you again if you made me redo those stitches.” 

“I’d seduce you eventually,” he said, kissing your shoulder and sliding out of you. You rolled your eyes. “Only took me 10 years the first time…” 

Your relationship with Tommy had been one of the few, surprising bright spots in the last year. It was oddly easy, being with him. There wasn’t much about him that wasn’t easy. He was sweet, he was fun. It was what you’d imagined a relationship to be like in college before you’d started dating Joel. With Joel, it had been heady and intense from the beginning. You’d been head over heels for him from the start. There was no other option, it was all in or nothing and nothing didn’t feel like it was on the table. 

Tommy was the opposite. But that was, in part, because you couldn’t seem to actually fall for him. Even when you tried. Even when you focused on it. 

It didn’t seem to matter what he did. He took you dancing at the Speakeasy. He brought you bottles of wine from outside the QZ. He got you a small TV/VCR combo from the underground market and a copy of You’ve Got Mail on VHS. You were almost giddy with it while trying to tell him it was way too much. 

“Nah, I had to,” he smiled. “Found the tape when we were outside, knew how much you loved that movie. Then I just had to make sure you could actually watch the damn thing.” 

Tommy was probably a damn near perfect boyfriend. He just… wasn’t Joel. 

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen him - not even in passing - since the conversation near the clinic. Tommy always came to your place. You always dealt with him or Tess when it came to resupplying their medical stash. He had done a thorough job of making sure you never saw each other. 

And it didn’t make a damn difference. 

There was a second every morning Tommy spent the night where you thought you were waking up next to his brother. It was one moment - a sweet, if brief, moment - where everything felt right. It was one of your favorite moments of the day, the second there your mind tricked yourself that you were still with the person you loved most. And then came the letdown followed by the shame of it. 

“What the fuck is my problem?” You asked Andrew one afternoon as you worked in your lab. “Why can’t I get the fuck over him? Tommy… he’s basically perfect, why can’t I just love him? Why do I have to want the person who doesn’t want me back? And at what point do I fucking tell Tommy ‘hey, I know you’ve basically done nothing but be the best boyfriend a girl could ask for for the past almost year but I’m still in love with your brother who, as it happens, is kind of a dick.’”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess,” Andrew shrugged. “I can’t imagine loving anyone but Jess. You could drop Halle Berry in front of me, make her love all the same shit I do and I’d still want Jess. Just how it works sometimes.” 

“This is such a fucking mess,” you groaned. 

“He said he understood what he was getting into,” he shrugged again. “So, if I were you, I’d keep it to myself until he drops the L-word on you. Then you’ll have to come clean. But, until then, I think you’re in the clear.” 

“Why am I this stupid?” You asked. “Seriously. I’m not this stupid with anything else, how was I this fucking stupid?” 

“Eh, you’re pretty stupid with at least some other things,” he said. You glared at him. “You are an absolute shit partner to have in bridge. You cannot strategize for shit, you are really stupid at bridge.”  

“Thank you,” you said sarcastically. “That makes me feel so much better.” 

“Always happy to be of service.” 

It had been a few months that you’d known, for a fact, that you couldn’t fall in love with Tommy. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, it wasn’t going to happen. You still weren’t sure what to do about it. 

You thought about it more when he wasn’t around. So you were thankful, that Saturday, to have surgeries to attend to. Tommy, Joel and Tess were outside the QZ yet again. Not only were you always worried the whole time they were gone, your brain went into overdrive trying to figure out what to do about the Tommy situation. Surgery was a pleasant distraction. 

It was late when you finally finished everything on the docket that day. The sun had set and you felt like you were ready to fall asleep standing up. 

“Want to come over later?” Andrew asked as you leaned against the front desk. “Feel like you might need the distraction.” 

“Yeah…” you sighed, looking out at the empty waiting room. “Probably a good idea…” 

The bell on the front door rang and you instinctively looked. Tess ran in, eyes wide, blood dripping from her shoulder. 

“Fuck,” you swore. You were running before you even really knew you were running, grabbing one of the clinic’s go bags. 

“Andrew,” you said as you went for the door. “Keep an OR ready for me, do NOT shut down until I get back, understand? See if you can get someone else to stay, please…” 

“I’ve got it,” he said. “Go!”

Tess led the way to the hole in the fence. 

“What happened?” You asked, the two of you walking as quickly as you could without drawing the attention of anyone patrolling. 

“We got pinned down, about a mile outside the QZ,” she said. “We took everyone out eventually but Tommy and Joel…” 

“Tess,” your voice cracked. 

“They were alive when I left,” she said. 

“Fuck!” 

You slipped out of the fence, past the search lights and the debris field, and you ran. 

You’d never been an athlete. You liked hiking and swimming and walking and were in fine shape but you’d never been a runner. That didn’t seem to matter then. 

You raced toward where Tess pointed you, her falling back. You started watching for the bodies that would be around wherever they’d stashed themselves, the telltale signs of the showdown Tess mentioned. 

When you spotted it, you practically tore into the small storefront, yanking a flashlight out of your pocket. It didn’t take you long to find Joel and Tommy. 

“Hey Sweetheart,” Tommy smiled a little at you. He was breathing heavily, his gun lying across his lap. Tess ran in behind you. 

“Hey, you idiot,” you smiled a little back. Joel was silent on the ground. “I need to evaluate you both and figure this out, try to stay conscious for me, OK?” 

“Anything for you,” he said, wincing a little. 

You took off your backpack and put your flashlight in your teeth, looking Joel over first. He was unconscious but he had a pulse and was breathing. Good signs, even though his breath was shallow. There was a penetrating chest wound and a compound fracture just above his left knee. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you guys get up to?” You asked, pulling out your stethoscope. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to break your femur?” 

“Had to jump off a roof,” Tommy winced. “Think I just sprained an ankle, Joel landed wrong…” 

“Wrong is a fucking understatement,” you muttered, checking his heart rate and his breathing. “Think he’s stable for the moment…” 

You moved to Tommy. 

“Why do I feel like we’re gonna be in a fight after this?” He asked. 

“Because we are,” you said. “Show me what’s wrong.” 

“Got shot,” he angled his leg with a groan so you could see the wound. It was to the thigh but had missed the major arteries, so not terrible. “Sprained the ankle…” 

“Tess,” you said. “I’m going to need…” 

There was a sudden gasping sound from behind you and you spun. Joel was still unconscious but he was struggling to breathe. 

“Doc!” Tess ran to him. 

“Move!” You ordered, rushing over and thrusting the stethoscope into your ears. You pressed it to his chest and listened. “Fucking hell…” 

You yanked your bag to your side and started ripping through it. 

“What?” Tess sounded panicked. “What is it?” 

“He had a fucking pneumothorax that I missed and it just changed to a tension pneumothorax,” you said, thrusting the flashlight to Tess. She took it, shining the light down at the bag. You found a scalpel and some tubing. 

“What’s that?” She asked. “What does that mean?” 

“It means there’s air in his chest that’s trapped and making it so his lung can’t inflate and I need to get it out or he’s going to fucking die,” you snapped, ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying and pointing to a spot on his rib cage. You cut off a short length of tube. “Light here.” 

She obeyed and you made the cut, thrusting the tubing in to hold the incision open so the air could escape. He took a deep, shuddering breath and you relaxed. 

“Thank fuck for that,” you sighed, really looking at his face for the first time. 

You had to fight the urge to touch him. He was still so fucking beautiful it made your heart ache. Seeing him again was like getting hit by the train. All this time, you’d thought you’d just been holding steady, that you just kept loving him the same way you always had. 

You hadn’t. It had become a dull roar. It hung on the edges of everything but you could forget about it sometimes, when he wasn’t there to remind you. But the second you saw him, it was all consuming. You felt it in your skin, your chest, your marrow. Loving him was built into you like any other vital thing, there was no excising it. You could quiet it, avoid it but it would never cease to exist. Not for you. 

“Tess,” you said after a second. “Hold pressure on the lower chest wound, leave the one I just made the fuck alone.” 

You went to Tommy and started looking at his gunshot wound. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “Lightheaded?” 

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, Sweetheart,” he smiled a little. “Just having a hard time walking is all…” 

“Yeah, that’s going to be the sticking point here,” you glanced to Tess.

“What?” She asked. 

“You and I are going to have to do some heavy lifting,” you said. 

“I can do that,” she nodded. “I can do that.” 

You grabbed some gauze and a brace from your bag, wrapping Tommy’s gunshot wound and giving him some ankle support before you looked him in the eye. 

“Alright Miller,” you said. “Time to boot and rally, you were in the army, you can do this. You’re going to go with Tess to the fence and head for the clinic. Andrew is waiting for you guys.” 

“What about you?” He asked. 

“I’m going to wake up Joel and I’m taking him to the main gate,” you said, getting to your feet and offering Tommy your hand. 

“That’s a fucking death sentence, you can’t go to the main gate!” Tess gaped up at you. 

“We can’t get him through the fence,” you said. “There’s no way in hell, not with a compound fracture, an open chest wound and a pneumo. Main gate might be a death sentence for you but I can get us in. It’ll be tricky but I can get us in.” 

“That’s too big a risk,” Tommy said, taking your hand. You pulled him to his feet and slung his arm over your shoulder. “You can’t…” 

“I can’t just leave him out here,” you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I need to get him to the clinic before shit gets worse and that’s the only way…”

He cupped your face, looking in your eyes and you knew he saw it. What you felt. Why you couldn’t leave Joel behind. Not now, not ever. 

“It’s gonna get you killed, Sweetheart,” he said softly. 

“Don’t have a choice,” you smiled sadly. He pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“Tess?” You said, still looking at Tommy. She came alongside you and you held up his arm. She stepped into place. “Straight to the clinic, OK?” 

“You sure you’ve got Joel from here?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Get yourselves out of here, we’ll be right behind. The clinic. Andrew’s staying there, he’ll help you.” 

She nodded and they left you there with Joel on the ground. 

You ran to his side, checking his breathing. Still solid. 

“Well at least there’s that,” you muttered to yourself. You quickly bandaged the wound at his chest. Looking closer, you were pretty sure it was a stab wound and not a bullet hole. You tried to keep it so it wouldn’t be jostled and have him start bleeding out. You moved onto the leg. 

You were going to need to at least partially set it, there’s no way you could carry him and he couldn’t put any weight on it the way it was now. It was just going to hurt like a bitch. Which is part of why you’d sent Tess and Tommy along. This part was not going to be pretty and there was a good chance he was going to scream loud enough to attract every clicker and raider in a five mile radius. 

“OK Miller,” you grabbed the length of tubing you hadn’t used to open his chest and put it between his teeth, making him bite down on it. “You can do this, you can get through this you stubborn asshole, you’re going to be fine, hear me? I will never forgive you if you’re not fine so you’re going to be fucking fine…” 

You grabbed the stuff to make a splint from your bag and set it up around his injured leg before you put one knee on his hip, hoping to help hold him still. 

“Here we go,” you took a deep breath. “One, two, three…” 

You winced as you started pushing his bone back into alignment. He gasped and flung his hand out, catching you in the side. 

“It’s me!” You said quickly, pushing the bone back into place. He groaned, the sound choking and gasping. “Bite down on the tube, I’m setting your leg enough that you can put weight on it, I know it hurts, I’m almost done just stick with me…” 

The bone disappeared below the skin and you stopped pushing. Joel went slack, panting for breath. You grabbed gauze and quickly bound the point where the break had come through the skin before setting the splint. 

“You still with me over there, Miller?” You asked, not able bring yourself to look over at him, afraid of what you might see. 

“Still here,” he was panting for breath. 

“Good,” you said, sitting back on your heels for a moment, out of breath yourself. You looked over at him. 

He was watching you, a soft look on his face. Your heart swelled with it.

“Hey Kid,” he said quietly. 

“Hey,” you half smiled at him. 

“Tess and Tommy?” He asked. 

“Headed for the QZ,” you said. “Sent them on ahead because they’re taking a different route in than us.” 

“What route are we taking?” He frowned. 

“Main gate,” you said, starting to pack up your supplies. 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, we can’t…” 

“You can’t without me,” you cut him off. “But I can. And you can’t get under the fence right now, Joel, not with your leg like that coupled with the fact that you’ve got a penetrating chest wound and I had to give you an incision to relieve a tension pneumothorax.” 

“Then you’re leavin’ me out here,” he started trying to prop himself up on his elbows and you went to help him. “Not riskin’ you bringing me in through the main gate…” 

“Shut the fuck up, Miller,” you said, helping him sit up all the way. He glared at you. 

“Always knew there was a risk of not comin’ back, Kid,” he said. His eyes kept ranging over your face. 

“You don’t get to just die on me out here,” you snapped. “We’re not doing that, got it? I didn’t come all the way out here to save your ass just to have you die on me so we’re going to the main fucking gate.” 

You stood up and put on the pack before offering him your hand. He glared at you. 

“I swear to God Joel if you don’t I will go to the main gate myself and make them come get you in a patrol truck,” you snapped. “Guessing this is a smuggling hide out for you, I will bring them here, I don’t give a shit.” 

“You’re the most stubborn damn woman I’ve ever met,” he muttered, taking your hand.

“Put as much weight as you can on the good leg,” you ordered. He glared at you. “What, you’re saying dumb shit like I should just leave you out here to die so I have to state the obvious. Ready?” He nodded once. “Alright, one, two, three.” 

You pulled and he hissed in pain as you helped him up. He almost collapsed and you caught him with your shoulder tucked into his armpit. 

“See?” You said as he panted for breath. “We’ve got this.” 

It didn’t take long for you and Joel to fall into a rhythm that kept his pain from getting worse as you walked. It was slow going but you made steady progress. 

“Why’d you do this?” He managed after you’d walked half a mile. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned. 

“Come out here,” he said. His breaths came in short, gasping pants. “Save me. Why?” 

You were quiet for a moment.

“You know why,” you said eventually. 

He ground his teeth. 

“We’re not good for each other,” he said. 

“I know.” 

“Told you I didn’t want to see you.” 

“Trust me, I remember.” 

“You’re with Tommy.” 

“I know.” 

He growled. The searchlights of the QZ perimeter were getting close. 

“When we get up there, let me do the talking,” you said. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. I’m going to get us through this in one piece but you have to do what I say for a change, got it?” 

He just grunted in affirmation. 

The guards spotted you quickly. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide. 

“Hands up!” Their guns were drawn. You raised the hand you could. “I fucking said hands up!” 

“Can’t put them all up, I have an injured man with me,” you called back. “I’m a doctor at the clinic, I got word of an injured person outside the fence, I’m bringing him in for treatment…” 

The voice shifted. 

“Doc? That you?” 

You squinted against the searchlight as the guard came closer. You smiled a little. 

“Hi Tim,” you said. You’d known there was a good chance one of your former students would be at the gate. It was just luck that it was one who remembered you fondly. He lowered his gun. 

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, coming over and taking Joel’s other side. Joel just gaped at you. 

“Helping the injured,” you jerked your head in Joel’s direction. “That whole hippocratic oath thing, I couldn’t just ignore it once I knew about it. I was hoping you could let us in here.” 

“Doc, you left the QZ…” he said quietly. 

“I know,” you said. “And I don’t want to compromise you or your job in any way. But I had to do my job, too. If you need to write me up or take me into custody you can, but I need to get this man to the clinic first…” 

He looked Joel over. 

“You’ll make sure he does intake?” He asked.

“Of course,” you replied. He pulled out a scanner and took a sample from each of you. The screen glowed green. His jaw twitched. 

“Alright,” he said. “But we have to move quick and you never saw me, OK?” 

“Thank you,” you said, moving as quickly as Joel would allow. Your heart was in your throat until you were through the gate. 

“Get to the clinic by curfew,” Tim said. “You’ve only got 20 minutes.” 

*** 

Joel wasn’t sure what hurt more, his leg, his chest or seeing you. 

He’d managed to avoid you for a year. A whole year of not seeing your face, the longest he’d gone since he’d come to the QZ. He hated every goddamn second of it. 

It was the right thing to do, though, trying to let you go. He kept fucking failing you and he’d keep fucking failing you the more he was around you. And being around you hurt. 

He wasn’t sure it would be better or worse if you were his. Everything he’d lost was all tied up in you. The life he’d been inches away from having wound around your limbs and lips and hair. He didn’t think he could just be next to you and know that. But fuck, not seeing you… 

One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do was say goodbye to you that day on the street. But he couldn’t keep drowning you in his misery. As much as he’d hated Tommy for touching you, for picking you, he couldn’t hate him for pointing out the obvious. He’d been cruel to you. As much as he was angry, hurting, wanting to hate you, you didn’t deserve that. You deserved better than what he could give you. You were too much for him to take and he couldn’t seem to stop hurting you. It had to end. 

But he was relieved that he could gauge how you were doing by Tommy’s mood. He didn’t like much else about the fact that you were with him but when Tommy came home from seeing you in a good mood, he knew you were happy. If he were a little off, he knew you probably had a bad day at work. If he were irritable it meant you were upset about something. He didn’t dare ask what but he knew it was something. 

It was strange, knowing you existed in the world but not knowing much of anything about it. He clung to what he did know. Wished he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see you. Wished he didn’t want to look at you. 

But now you were close - so fucking close - and it hurt. Andrew helped you get him onto an exam table and he could barely hear what you were saying, giving him some kind of pill and making him breathe in some shit that made his head swim as you made him lie down. 

“Don’t want you workin’ on me,” he managed. You frowned. 

“Well I’m the only option you have, Miller, so suck it up,” you said, not looking up from your work at his side. 

“Don’t want to want to look at you,” he muttered. 

“Then don’t look at me,” you said, stitching up his side. 

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled. “Too fuckin’ pretty…” 

“Sounds like a personal problem, Miller,” you said. “Stop talking so much, you’re making it hard to sew.” 

“Sorry,” he said. “Just missed you.” 

You looked at him for a moment. 

“Missed you too.” 

You went back to sewing. He just watched you work, soaking up what he could of you. He didn’t know when he’d see you again. He wanted to hold onto this. 

He fell asleep watching you heal him. 

***

By the time you finished with Joel, you were exhausted. You were going to have to just sleep in an exam room, it was past curfew and you wouldn’t want to be far, anyway. But, for that moment, you just wanted to slump against the wall in the hall, not able to make yourself move any further. 

You slid to the floor, leaning your head back against the wall and taking a deep breath. Your legs and arms ached. You were pretty sure your abs would, too, in the morning after you hauled Joel all that way. 

Tess came out of an exam room and looked surprised to find you on the floor before siting next to you. 

“How is he?” She asked. 

“He’ll be fine,” you sighed. “Won’t be able to make any runs for at least two months while his femur heals, though.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asked after a moment. 

“As long as it’s nothing philosophical,” you replied. “Brain is fried. Ask me how to do surgery, that I can do with my eyes closed.”

“What are you doing with them?” She asked, watching you. You frowned. “You’ve got Tommy wrapped around your finger. You’ll put your life on the line to save Joel. What are you doing with them?” 

“Nothing that I really have a say in,” you looked at her, too tired to try to dodge the question. “If I could stop… feeling the way I do, I would. I hate it, I hate what it’s done to me, what it’s done to him, what it’s doing to Tommy and I just… I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I want it to be over. 

“I keep thinking that loving people, that’s the reason we’re here. That’s what we’re supposed to do with life, we’re supposed to love people as much as we can for as long as we can but that doesn’t work anymore, does it? Maybe it did before all this happened. Maybe it didn’t and I was just too naive to know it but that’s what it felt like we were supposed to do. But I can’t keep loving him and I can’t just let this keep going with Tommy and I just….” Your voice cracked. You were too tired to try to fight off tears. 

Tess tugged you over so your head was on her shoulder. You blinked in surprise. 

“I was married before,” she said. “I told you that. I didn’t tell you that I had to shoot him, in the outbreak.” 

“Jesus…” you breathed. 

“Even knowing how it was going to end, I’m glad I had it while I did,” she said. “But I’m still too afraid to ever love someone like that again. Love like that wrecks you, utterly destroys you. It’s why I make the choices I make now. And yeah, it’s safer but my God is life sweeter when you have it.

“Joel’s broken like that, too,” she said. “Part of why we get along. I’m not sure he’ll ever get his shit together. It’s too big a risk for him. But I think you still can figure it out. It hasn’t broken you yet. You still wear ribbons in your hair. You’re not broken yet.” 

You stared at the wall for a moment. 

“I need to talk to Tommy,” you said eventually. 

“I’m really sorry, Doc,” she said quietly. 

“Me too.” 

You made yourself stop crying before you knocked on Tommy’s door and opened it quietly, half hoping he would be asleep when you went inside. 

No such luck. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he half smiled at you. 

“Hey,” you half smiled back. “How are you feeling?” 

“Been better,” he shrugged. “Been worse.” 

You nodded. 

“The nurse - Kristen, I think? - said Joel was fine,” he said. You nodded again. 

He just looked at you for a moment, like he was memorizing you. 

“I never had a shot, did I?” He asked. 

You smiled tightly. 

“I told you I wasn’t sure I could ever love anyone else,” you said softly. 

“You did,” he nodded. “Just hoped I’d convince you.” 

“You and me both.” 

He smiled at that and held out his hand for you. You took it, letting him tug you to him. 

“You’ve been the most fun I’ve had since the end of the world,” he said. “Glad we got to figure it out.” 

“Me too,” you sniffed, trying not to cry. 

He smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Go sleep,” he said. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

“Yeah, I think I am,” you laughed. “Your brother is fucking heavy, I’m never hauling him anywhere again…” 

He laughed at that, too. You looked at him. 

“I really tried,” you said quietly. “But…” 

“I know,” he said. “Now get out of here before I do something stupid.” 

You nodded and went for the door. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You stopped and turned back to him. 

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.” 

You smiled, shook your head a little, and left him behind. 

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as things ramp up as we build into the core story of TLOU. Tommy will still be around for a bit but boyfriend Tommy is over. So sorry for all the Tommy Stans! This was always the plan, though. He was here to help Joel figure his shit out and give Doc a way out of her single-mindedness when it comes to Joel.

I do have a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added, just comment below! If you've asked and haven't made it on, please ask again. I'm trying to get everyone added but I think people may have slipped through the cracks because I have no organizational system for this.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting and letting me know how the story makes you feel! It's a joy to write for you all, thank you for hanging out with my characters :)

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn

[figgrrr0]

can i request florist boyfriend!tighnari with a gender neutral reader smut? i don’t really mind the length of it, but maybe ‘nari needs to… “unwind” after dealing unruly customers demanding to see the manager and treating him badly (when in reality, he is… in fact, the manager)

i just think ‘nari is the sweetest boy! he’s so used to taking care of us and giving us gifts, so perhaps it’s time that we take good care of him and shower him with some intimate and loving nighttime indulgences (top!reader x sub!tighnari)? <3

i hope i followed the format correctly :>>

Got a bit carried away, I hope this is what you wanted!

I didn't end up doing any actual penetration, it didn't feel needed with the way I took it! But if you want to see it, feel free to send in another ask and I'll try again! This is my first time writing smut so please be gentle with me!

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Stressful Business

Character: Sub!Tighnari // Reader: Dom!Gn

Genre: Smut // CW: massage, nipple play, handjob, slight biting, praise, pet name "baby" quite a bit, dumbification?

Plot: Yes // Word count: 3.8k

Two long hours. Is that really how long it's been? You double check the clock once more, but it doesn't change what you are now certain that you'd seen a second before.

Tighnari, your competent boyfriend of the past 3 years, has never once been home late from working at the flower shop he owned. Not without warning you of the possibility of such in the morning. But he hadn't done that today. He wasn't supposed to be late.

As much as you know you shouldn't worry about him - don't have to worry about him - you can't help the feeling that something has gone wrong...

'POP!' The gurgling crackle of the overflowing pan you'd left on the stove breaks your tense reverie.

"Oh shit!" You exclaim, before promptly forcing yourself to calm down once you realise it's not as bad as you thought, and move to turn down the heat and place the pan in the sink. You hope the contents haven't burned... that'd make Tighnari's night even worse than it likely already is.

He's been dropping hints lately that he'd been craving a particular dish that you knew him to be fond of: mushroom stew. Mushrooms were his favourite, after all. And, after planning to make it today, you'd kept it a surprise, knowing that regardless of his mood in the evening (right now), the reveal of the food would cheer him up! Hopefully.

You'd just started stirring the pot for a final time, when the front door to your and Tighnari's shared house suddenly opened. Had you been so lost in thought as to not even hear his keys jangling outside? (He often gets his keys out before even trying the handle to see if the door was indeed locked. Because of this, he'd locked himself outside plenty of times before now, and you're certain he'll do it again)

You wait to hear him call out to you as he always does, but his voice never comes. You're relieved that he's home, but now you're more worried as to whether or not he is okay... It's unusual for him not to seek you out first thing after returning home.

"Tighnari? Are you home? I'm in the kitchen!" You say, raising your voice only slightly, knowing that he'll hear it wherever in the house he is. In return, you hear his distinct voice uttering a displeased grumble, followed by a painful sounding hiss. At this, your brows furrow, and a minute later, his arms sneak around your front to hug you from behind, peeking over your shoulder. Turning your face slightly, you greet him with a quick peck on the cheek.

"You making dinner?" He asks simply, his voice holding a barely hidden sigh as he slumps behind you, obviously tired.

"Yeah," is your reply, keeping your voice a bit hushed to not hurt his sensitive ears, what with his extremely close proximity, "are you hungry? You seem a bit off..." He nuzzles his face into your neck, hiding his eyes as he leans on you for support against the counter top.

"Got a headache from work today... I'm not much in the mood to eat right now. Sorry..."

At this, you turn around and tenderly cup his face in your soft hands, making him look you directly in the eyes, wanting to properly convey your next message. "There's no need to apologise, 'Nari. It's okay if you're not feeling well, but I promise you're gonna want what I've made for you." You end, sending a knowing smile his way, and move to start serving the food.

"Go sit at the table, Nari! If you really don't want to eat it, that's okay. We can just heat it up later when you are hungry. Or I can make you an extra 'special' breakfast tomorrow~" Putting some emphasis on the word 'special', you shoot him a wink, to which he huffs and turns around quickly to hide his reddening cheeks, taking a seat at the table behind you, further back in the room. "Well, that's odd..." you think, normally he'd hit right back with some teasing of his own. He must've had a super hard day at the shop.

After a couple minutes of relatively comfortable silence, you break it, eagerly wanting to hear about what kept him away tonight, and brought him home in his testy mood. "Sooo... what happened? Bad day?"

He let out a sad sounding sigh, "To say the least... a few weeks ago, I had a customer come into the store wanting a bouquet comprised of hard-to-get flowers... because they don't grow in Sumeru."

You look over your shoulder as you let out an understanding hum, seeing him rearranging the vase of flowers displayed in the middle of the table. He'd brought them home a few days ago, and even then he'd spent an hour getting them to lay 'perfectly' as he'd said. He was just never satisfied, always having to focus on something. Perhaps that's why he's been getting so stressed recently... he just needs some help taking his mind off things... to relax.

"I told them then that it'd take a couple of weeks for the flowers to be shipped over, and even then, they weren't likely to make the journey healthy enough to survive. But, still, they wanted me to try anyway. Even though it wouldn't likely work." He rolls his eye, adding in an annoyed scoff, " they came in yesterday, and even I was surprised that they looked well; they stood tall, their colours vibrant, no fallen or ripped petals or leaves, and they looked amazing in the bouquet I arranged."

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes, his face softening upon seeing you so interested in his story, despite being busy with the food. "I honestly think it was the best one I've made yet, I would've loved for you to see it." He let's a weary smile make its way onto his face as you approach, holding a bowl of the mushroom stew in each hand, and setting it on the table in both of your places.

Upon realising what the food was, his ears perk up, nose twitching as he took a revering sniff, picking up the spoon you'd laid in front of him at the same time. "Oh, love... you really shouldn't have-"

"Shhh!" You interrupt, "I know what I do and don't have to do, Tighnari. And I know what I want to do for you." You take his hand across the table, gently running your thumb over his knuckles and feeling him soften under your touch. "Now finish your story and eat your dinner."

He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, the flush rising higher on his cheek bones. "Right... uh.. s-so the customer came in this morning to retrieve the bouquet, but then- and this is the most ridiculous complaint I've ever gotten thus far: the flowers weren't the right colour! They never specified a colour!" He threw his arms up I'm the air, still holding the spoon, as if he were still in disbelief. "They said, when they made the order, 'The colour doesn't matter'!"

Though his voice was full of fury, his eyes betrayed him: eyes wide and tearing up, he was blinking quickly in succession to try and bid them away. As he finished, his throat was wracked with barely fought down sniffles, "I spent the last two hours arguing, trying to come to an agreement with them, and eventually I had to make up a new flower arrangement including what we already had in the store..."

You stand up from your seat abruptly, taking your dish and stepping behind Tighnari. As you pass by him, you rest your hand on his shoulder, rubbing his taut muscles through the fabric, "you know that this incident has nothing to do with your skills, right, 'Nari? None of it was your fault. You had no obligation to continue helping that person, but you did because you're a good person. Unlike them." He pushed into your touch, a faint whine forcing its way through him before he could repress it. You could tell be the way that his alert ears pricked up then went slack that he'd liked your response, his inner instincts keening at the venom your voice held towards the rude customer, proud that you'd agreed with him.

Before he can get ahead of himself, you step away into the kitchen, but not before leaning down to press a slow kiss and a nip onto the back of his neck, and whispering next to his ear: "Finish your dinner, Tighnari. Don't keep me waiting too long..."

To which he replies with a barely audible, "Y-yes, Y/N..." with a certain shake in his voice.

Then, you place your bowl on the counter, ready to be washed later, before heading to the bedroom. Opening the door, you look back to see Tighnari shovelling the stew into his mouth, eating almost as quickly as possible, when he then notices you staring at him. He nearly chokes and looks away in embarrassment, covering his face with one hand. At that, you step into the bedroom and close the door behind you. He really can be quite immature, sometimes... as endearing as it is...

...

While undressing yourself and changing into some light sleeping clothes that you knew Tighnari liked, you begin some preparations. It seems as though your dear boyfriend could do with some... stress relief, to say the least. After everything he does: working so hard at the flower shop, being so caring towards you, and even bringing home some flowers every now and then for you, you decide that it's time for you to pay back some of those amassing favours to him...

You start by blowing out the flames of the scented candles around the room, preventing them from disturbing Tighnari's sensitive nose, but still letting their calming scent and effects roam through the air. Then, you go into the bathroom, open a cupboard, and pull out some massage oil and a towel; after touching his shoulder earlier, you knew that his muscles were extremely tense, and you were going to help him with that tonight.

No more than 10 minutes later, Tighnari opens the door, walking into the dimly lit room, the only light being that of the few unscented candles that you'd left burning. His eyes met your own as you sat on the bed, your lips upturned in a welcoming smile as you motioned for him to come closer. He eyed the towel and bottle of lotion next to you with an air of suspicion, then met your eyes again, one of his eyebrows going upwards in a questioning manner.

In response, you sigh and roll your eyes playfully, starting, "I'm giving you a massage, silly." You pat the bed in front of you, urging him to sit on the edge. "C'mon, 'Nari, hop up here and sit down like a good boy!" You knew just how to get the reaction you wanted.

He growled in warning. There it was.

Usually he'd try to put up a bit of a fight when you did this, denying the praise and demeaning acts, declaring that he "hated being treated like a pet!", but you knew better. You knew the truth.

You knew he loved it. And you knew he was too exhausted to play his usual games tonight, that he'd accept and do anything you wanted. Because tonight, he wanted to hear those words.

"Good boy." You let out as barely more than a whisper, voice soft and encouraging as he comes closer, turning around to sit between your thighs, sitting right on the edge of the bed. Just where you want him. "I knew you could do it, 'Nari." He looked back at you over his shoulder, a deceiving glare shadowed his features, but his tail was wagging discreetly. After the years of living with him, of loving him, of playing with him, you knew exactly how to read his reactions.

Not paying any mind to his slightly rude actions, you slowly slide your hands up under his shirt, making him flinch a bit in surprise before he eases into your warm touch. Splaying your fingers flat against his stomach, tracing each curve and line, dragging your nails lightly against the tight skin of his abdomen, you do anything you can to make his breath hitch, to make his chest rise faster and faster, until he can't help but beg you to do more. To touch him more, to give him more. He could be so greedy sometimes, your Tighnari, but you were glad that he was comfortable enough to act that way around you. You wouldn't want him any other way.

"Are you going to take your shirt off for me, baby?" You chuckle softly at his confused expression. During your ministrations, his eyes had drifted closed and his lips had strayed open to let out his content breaths, but upon your arm pulling away, his eyes had shot open, his mouth has slammed shut, and his hand had darted out to grab tight a hold of your receding wrist. "Well how else am I gonna give you a massage, hmm?"

"You could always just give me one through my clothes... or are you not that good?" He smirks at you over his shoulder, the light that can usually be found in his sly eyes finally shining bright again.

"Oh, but then it wouldn't feel as good! And tonight is all about helping you, Tighnari, I want you to relax for me..." You place a hand on his cheek and guide him to face you, giving him a deep kiss. When you pull away, he chases after you, trying to capture your lips with his again. "Do you think you can do that for me?"

He grumbles an answer, and even just from the implied tone you can guess what it meant, but you want to be sure, you want to take care of him and give him what he needs. "I want you to tell me properly, baby. Tell me you want this. Tell me you want what I'm going to give you." You look him in the eyes, imploring him to obey.

And, just like that, he crumbles.

"I want you, I want this, please, Y/N..." He begs, shifting to take off his shirt in a hurry, as if he couldn't possibly wait to feel your hands on him again.

This is how things always go between you and Tighnari; he pretends he doesn't need your help, pretends he will be fine without your touch, when, in reality, he craves it, begs for it with so much as a slight prod or a threat of receiving nothing. He's so easy to read, and yet, still just as fun as when you first met.

As soon as his shirt is peeled from his body, he casts it off into the room, only to be found in the morning, and as soon as it is out of the way, he reaches to grab your arms. You let him, of course. You just can't help giving him what he wants, especially when he's being so open about it, so... needy.

He leads your hands straight to fondle his nipples as he coaches your fingers to play with them just the way he wants, pinching, pulling, flicking and circling them as he groans, whines, whimpers and cries. This is the loudest he's ever been so soon after starting, and you haven't even really done anything yet... maybe you should just let him use you however he wants at some point? Make him tell you exactly what he wants, where he wants it, make him tell you how to do it, as if you don't already know what makes him cum the hardest... and the fastest... let him think he has control, only to make him submit and beg for forgiveness when you refuse to help him anymore, watch as the embarrassment paints his face a deep red as he realises he was giving you what you wanted the entire time... Well. That's for another night, perhaps. Tonight, right now, all your generous, caring boyfriend needs is some loving touches and sweet pleasure.

Once he is certain that your fingers will continue the set rhythm on his perky, pink nipples, Tighnari moves his hands to traverse his own body, surfing across the soft planes of his stomach and thighs, working himself up for you, just as you've taught him before now.

One of your hands moves away from him and to your side, reaching to grab the massage oil you'd planned to use before Tighnari got ahead of himself. He complains about it, but you know this will make it all that much better for him in the end, so you ignore his pitiful questioning whines and shuffles.

You spurt a few small pumps of the oil onto your palms, running them along his body where he'd been stroking himself a few mere seconds ago, giving him more lubrication to warm himself up and provide more pleasure in even the simplest of touches. In addition to this, you begin kissing and nipping his neck, littering bruises and bite marks of different sizes and severity trailing from his jaw down to his shoulders. Each bite earns a high keen from deep within him and a tilt of his head, readily giving you even more access to the surface he so wants you to bite into, to mar and stake your ownership.

"You're such a good boy for me, baby... so, so good. You want me this much? Yeah? Want me to claim you as my own, make you mine and let everyone know?"

He lets out an unabashed moan at that, nodding desperately in agreement, "mhm! W-want you so bad, wanna be yours, wanna be your- mmh! Y-your good boy!"

Leaving his hard nipples lonely before they become uncomfortable sensitive from your teasing, you smooth your fingers along his strong, slender shoulders, pressing into the crevices and rubbing in the oil, continuing the massage that he was so ready to forget and push past, wanting to skip straight to the main act. But, as you've come to learn, while Tighnari loves to care for you and your well being, he can be quick to forego his own. Well, you're going to show him right now, that taking care of himself can feel amazing. Starting with a massage.

You press and grind into all of his muscles, slowing the frantic pace that he has set for himself. He cries out, upset that you're teasing him further, but he quickly shuts up when you pull lightly on the base of his tail.

"Shush, baby. Trust me here... it'll feel good."

You gradually work your way down, following after his own hands in their wanton display of lust, feeling out the tense knots in his muscles and working them beneath your insistent fingers and the lubricant oil until the stresses on his body yield and he sighs and moans in relief. You work his abs, his arms, his thighs, all the way to the top, where you pull away just before making it to where he wants you most.

He breaks.

"Pl- hah! Please! Please Y/N, touch me! I'll be such a good boy! I need it so bad!" He sobs, crystalline tears finally falling, begging as he shakes under your calm gaze.

"Awh, 'Nari... there's no need to cry, baby... you know I'll always give you what you want, right? I just want to take care of you first."

You press your lips against his again to take his mind off of it, pushing your tongue into his mouth when he gasps. For a few seconds, he tries to take control, pushing against your tongue and attempting to set the pace, but he quickly learns that he much prefers when you take the lead, letting his spit swap and mix with yours as your tongues slide against each other, swallowing each other's noises.

Again, you uncap the oil bottle, spilling a generous drizzle onto your open hand, and take it to his ready and aching cock. Instantly, as your hand wraps around him, the clear oil mixes with milky white, precum drooling from his sobbing slit. He mewls at the touch, unconsciously bucking his hips up into the wet, tight heat enveloping his cock head. One hand slipping over his hard cock over and over again, and the other swapping between each nipple, giving them both equal attention, you proceed to kiss him at the same time, nipping his lips with each pullback for breath. You're overwhelming his senses, making him feel so much more, and even the lewd 'shlik shlik shlik' that resounds around the room only serves to make him shudder and whine and beg for more.

"Please, please- Ahhn~ Please~!" Is the constant moan streaming from his mouth, as if there were a dam inside of him that could no longer be contained.

Just from his erratic mannerisms you knew he was close: the tightening of his hands on your thighs, the shaking of his legs as they hang over the side of the bed, his ears twitching and tail jerking faster and faster.

"Cum for me, baby. It's okay, just relax... let it all out..."

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he stiffens, a silent cry forcing his lips wide, tiny squeals of his voice intermittently ringing out when his throat loosens enough to let them escape.

Still, as he's coming down from the high of it all, you continue to stroke his now sensitive cock until he begins shaking, and his face scrunches in displeasure. Only then, do you release him, guiding him to lay back comfortably in the pillows of the bed.

5 minutes later, after a short break and a continued massage all the way up both legs, -which he did, admittedly, enjoy- Tighnari leans up onto his elbows, staring down at you in your position between his thighs.

"Uh.. mmm.... do you.. -I mean, should I return the favour? Can I make you feel good? Or is that not allowed?"

Ah. It'd seem as though he's beginning to regain his wits enough to start being snarky again, accompanied with that signature little smirk he always wears when he's proud of himself. Seems the shock to his senses was just what he needed.

Maybe he could do with some more.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

[vodika-vibes]

oh god prompt asks open I see??? how about something with both 1 and 4 with... boba maybe? rotj era boba. that edgy smug bastard. I haven't read anything with him in a WHILE 💔💔💔

ps ur writings are amazing!!

Punishment

Summary: You disobeyed Boba's rules, the rules that you agreed to ages ago, and now you have to face the delicious consequences.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Smut. Oral, M receiving

Prompts: “I want to hear you beg” and "Swallow it. All of it."

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This one feels awkward, but I'm not sure if it's just written awkwardly, or if it's my uber religious upbringing making me feel that way. I'm going to guess that it is. I hope you like it!

Divider by Saradika

You can count on one hand the number of people who know where you live, and also know the keycode to your door and the code to your alarm system, so, when you’re woken up in the dead of night at the sound of your alarm getting turned off, you’re not half as alarmed as you could have been.

In fact, there’s only one person, other than you, who has both the door code and the alarm code.

And while burying yourself in your blankets and pillows is so very tempting, instead you sit up and swing your legs off the side of the bed. You don’t bother adding any additional clothes, the long shirt- his shirt, to be more specific- covers enough of your body to not be improper.

You step out of your room, and follow the hall into the living room. And a sleepy smile crosses your face as you see Boba quizzically eyeing a shelf that’s new since his last visit.

“It’s for your armor,” You say as a greeting, “Since I know how you hate leaving your armor sitting on the floor.”

He glances at you, and if you had to bet, you’d say that Boba knew that you were awake before you even got out of bed. He sets his helmet in one of the cubbies, on a stand specifically for his helmet, and then he turns to look at you properly.

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, “Is that my shirt, princess?” He asks.

You smile at him placidly, “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, so technically it’s my shirt now.”

“Looks good on you,” Boba replies, his voice a low rumble.

You cross the room at a lazy pace, and as soon as you’re close enough his arms are securely around your waist, and you slide your hands up his chest plate to wrap your arms around his neck, “Everything looks good on me, I am amazingly attractive.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He says in agreement as his hands start slowly sliding the shirt up, revealing the simple cotton panties that you slipped on after your shower.

“If I knew you were on your way, I would have put on something else.” You admit with a small pout, “I bought some lingerie to show off for you.”

“Wanted to surprise you.” He admits in turn as one of his hands slides up to the back of your head, “Missed you.” He adds with a scowl, as if the admission pained you.

You grin at him and stand on your toes to chastely press your lips against him, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You whisper against his lips. “And I missed you too.”

“Is that right? How much did you miss me?”

“A lot.” Your fingers move to the seals holding his armor on, and you deftly start popping them.

Boba lightly bats your hands away from his armor, and he takes over. He swiftly removes each piece and sets them on the shelf, until he’s stripped down to his undersuit, it takes about half a minute, and you watch him with an appreciative eye.

Your Boba is so attractive, you can’t help but admire when you get the chance.

“You know, princess.” Boba starts as he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, and you’re not the least bit surprised when you feel his hard length pressed against your stomach, “I was very surprised when I got that holo recording of you the other day.”

Your face flames, “Uhm…I can explain…” You start.

“Especially,” he continues over your, “Since I’m fairly certain I told you you weren’t allowed to touch your pretty cunt without asking.”

You pout at him and shoot him your saddest tooka eyes, “I missed you.”

“Is that an explanation or an excuse, princess?”

Your pout morphs into a grin, “Yes.”

Amusement crosses his face, “You know I have to punish you now, don’t you princess?”

Your pout returns, “But Bobaaaa-” You drag his name out in a distinct whine as you press yourself firmly against him and rock against his length, pulling a hiss from him. “Wouldn’t you rather just fuck me?”

“Rules are rules, Princess.” He counters, “And you did agree to the rules.” Boba reminds you as his hands tighten on your hips, his gaze is locked on yours, as if waiting for you to say something.

And you huff as you press your face against his chest. You did agree to the rules. Months ago. And you also know that if you say your safeword he’ll stop. But, stars help you, you don’t want him to stop.

So instead you look up at him through lowered lashes, “Did you not like my holo, Boba?”

His eyes glitter with desire, “I didn’t say that. I fisted my cock to that video multiple times since I got it.” He roughly pulls your shirt up and off and throws it to the side, “But just because I liked it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve punishment.”

You feel a thrill of delight, and you try to press yourself against him, but he holds you still with his firm grip, “So, what’s my punishment, Boba?”

“Hm, I’m beginning to think you want to be punished, Princess.”

You press both of your hands against your chest and shoot him a look of mock offense, “I’ve never done anything worthy of punishment.”

“Mm-hmm.” He hooks his fingers in the band of your panties and snaps them, pulling a yelp from your lips, “Take these off, Princess.”

You grin at him and obediently slide the thin material down your legs and toss them to join your shirt on the other side of the room.

“Hm, so you can be obedient.” Boba murmurs as he slides his hand over your bare ass.

“When it suits my purposes.” You confirm with a grin.

His hand lands hard on your ass, and you squeak and jerk away from his hand, and then you pout at him as he massages the sting away with his hand, “So you intentionally disobeyed.” Boba notes thoughtfully.

Your expression becomes angelic, and he chuckles.

“I want to hear you beg, Princess.” Boba says, his voice heavy with desire, “But that’s going to come later.”

“What!? Later?” Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be a whine, but it definitely came out as a whine.

He chuckles, a dark noise that makes you shiver, “Yes, Princess. Later.” His hand slides up your back. “Right now I’m going to take your mouth.” His hand slides up to rest on the back of your neck, “And if you even think about touching that pretty little cunt of yours, princess, this punishment will become even longer. Do you understand?”

You nod rapidly, your gaze already drifting to the bulge in the front of his pants.

He grabs your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his, “Use your words, princess.”

“I understand,” You say, “I’ll be good.”

“Hm, we’ll see won’t we.” He allows you to tug him over to the couch and he sits comfortably, while you grab a pillow for your knees and you settle between his legs, “Hm, someone’s eager.” Boba murmurs as he sets his hand on the top of your head.

You trail your tongue down his hard length, still covered by the cloth of his bodysuit, and then you look up at him, “I told you that I missed you.” You free his cock from his pants and immediately press a kiss to the leaking head as you grip the base with a firm hand.

You’ll probably never be able to take his entire length in your mouth, but you are very talented with your hands, and Boba’s never once complained about you lacking that particular ability.

You trail your tongue down his length, and then back up, before you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and you start a shallow bobbing motion while hollowing your cheeks. 

Boba’s hands brush across your face as you work, pushing your hair back, tracing over your eyes, and absent praises fall from his lips mixed with his moans as you expertly work him over with your mouth and hands. 

With every bob of your head you take a little more of him into your mouth, until you have as much of him in your mouth as you can handle. Boba’s gaze is locked on your face as you bring him closer and closer to the brink. 

And then his hands are on your face, “Look at me Princess,” Boba says through a groan. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at some point, snap open and your gaze locks with his. “Swallow it.” He orders, “All of it.”

You hum around him and his hips jerk up at the sensation. And then his head falls back and a low groan escapes him as he spills his release into your mouth with little warning. 

And you obediently do as he ordered, swallowing every drop of his release. You keep your lips around him, until you feel his hand on the top of your head, lightly stroking your hair to indicate for you to stop.

“Good girl,” Boba murmurs as you sit back on your heels, “So obedient, did so good for me.”

You shiver under his praise, and he chuckles, before he peels his shirt off and tosses it across the room, “Does that mean no more punishment?” You ask as you drag your gaze across his chest.

“Mm…no. It just means that I’ll be able to have your punishment last as long as I have planned.” He stands and helps you to your feet, one of his hands dipping between your thighs to brush against your dripping pussy, “Mm, so wet for me.” Boba murmurs as he kisses you quickly, “To the bedroom, Princess. I want you to find the toys you used in the holo. You’re going to put on a show for me, my pretty girl.”

At that, your face burns. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” He repeats. Boba takes a moment to slide his pants down, and he tosses them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor, and then he encourages you to head towards the bedroom.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairing: daryl dixon & little sister!reader (platonic)

― era: season 10

― summary: it had been too long since you've seen your older brother, and if he was going to be honest, he thought you were dead.

― warnings: mentions of death, arguments, fluff, and angst.

― wc: 1041

⋆ a/n: i was mentioned in a post by @morgan-wolf that gave me some prompts that they had come up with, and i figured why not do a platonic fanfic? i had a lot of fun making this and thank you for the mention! :] it's always so refreshing to write something platonic omg.

masterlist | AO3

You had honestly thought you would never see your older brother, Daryl, ever again. It just didn’t seem possible; with the lengths you’d traveled on foot to the people you’ve lost, the idea of him being alive was almost too good to be true.

You guys had been separated from each other ever since you were fifteen. It was your fault really, but the argument you had between Merle & Daryl was considered a big deal at the time, but now that you’re almost twenty-six, it was almost laughable. You had gone out drinking with some friends and hadn’t come home until the next night, and Daryl was almost losing his mind worrying about you.

You were a complete accident, your parents hadn’t cared about you since you were born, and the caretaking was left up to Daryl & Merle, but of course, Merle can’t take responsibility for anything, so Daryl was the one that took care of you most of the time. Of course, with the pressures of teenage hormones and the fact that there was nothing to do in your small town, you would eventually give in to the mischief of your friends. Daryl had dreaded the day you grew up truly, and that night was an eye opener for him, and he had no idea how to take it.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” Daryl asked angrily. He stood behind one of the dining room chairs, his hands having a death grip on the back of it. “I was thinkin’ that I wanted to go and hangout with my friends without you on my back!” You replied back in irritation. Merle chimed in from the couch he was sitting on, “Don’t act like we didn’t do that when we were her age, little brother.” He laughed to himself before taking a swig of his beer. 

“Shut up man!” He growled.

“You’re not my fucking dad,” You bit. “So I don’t even know why you fucking care.”

His face morphed into something nasty. “Ya think I wanted to take care of ya?” He began to slowly approach you. “Yer jus’ some fuckin’ burden that I was stuck with..” His finger jabbed into your shoulder. A sickening feeling settled in your stomach as you bit back tears; his words hurt worse than you thought they would, and without thinking you said, “Fuck you, Daryl.” As you shoved him away from you and stormed out of the front door.

Daryl went to move when Merle piped up from the couch once more.

“Let ‘er go. She’ll be back, jus’ needs some time to cool off.”

Daryl wished that he hadn’t listened to him.

For the next ten years, you were on your own, and you had spent the first five holding on to hope that the only family you had managed to survive. Even though you hated Merle, he was blood, at least that’s what he had said - which you since learned was a shitty manipulation tactic. You didn’t mean what you had said to Daryl though, you didn’t have the right to say what you did to him, and maybe both of you were in the wrong; most nights when you were supposed to be sleeping, you’d stare up at the stars, your head swimming with questions.

Now, you’ve stopped wondering, just opting to live and save the people that were alive.

You were wandering back to your camp when you stopped in your tracks, slowly drawing your bow and quiver as you watched a man surveying your makeshift camp in the woods.

“Drop your weapons.” You said lowly. 

You could see his back muscles tense under his angel jacket, your eyes falling on the dog that was waiting for its owner's command. Your eyes softened, you hadn’t seen a dog in so long you’ve almost forgotten what they looked like.

“No one’s gotta get hurt.” You heard him say. “You’re right, so drop your shit,” You pulled tighter on the string. “I won’t ask you again.” He froze for a second before quickly spinning around, his crossbow brought up and ready to shoot.

Your tense body deflated at the sight of Daryl.

“D?” You asked in disbelief. 

Those same tears pricked at the ducts in your eyes caused you to lower your bow, becoming completely defenseless. You threw your arms around him and began to sob, clinging onto him as you could barely say a coherent sentence. Years of grief and loss completely melted from your body, as that hole in your heart had finally begun to heal.

He couldn’t believe you were still alive; all hope had died off with you the night that you disappeared. He had no idea if you had found a safe zone or if you were bitten. He desperately searched for you until Merle forced him to move, where they inevitably found the quarry and its people.

“God,” You say as you pull away from him. “You look like shit, old man.” You attempted to joke to cover up your embarrassment of showing your vulnerability. “Ya don’ look any better, brat.” He grumbled light-heartedly. 

You two had begun to walk together, a couple of giggles escaping your lips as Daryl’s dog danced around your legs once he learned you weren’t a threat.

“So, where have you been?” You asked. He just shrugs, “I’ve been around.” You nodded in understanding. “Same here. I can’t even tell you where I’ve gone.” You snorted in amusement. There was another beat of silence before you spoke again. 

“Where’s Merle?”

He nibbled on the skin of his lower lip nervously.

“He uh- he didn’t make it.” His voice almost sounded sad. “Oh.” You didn’t know how to feel about hearing about the eldests’ death. A part of you was sad, but the other part of you was also in disbelief, almost like you didn’t believe him. “How did he die?” 

“Doin’ somethin’ stupid but kinda… heroic?” 

“I would have never expected that.” 

“Me neither.” He said with his classic scoff.

Despite losing one brother, you were grateful that you had the other, and if you were going to be honest, he was your favorite. Your conversations flowed as if you hadn’t had to pick up where you left off.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

[sjsmith56]

Away Mission - Part 2

Summary: Sloan’s new job involves reporting about Bucky after a month of no word from him. Bucky adjusts to his new situation. A discovery in his tent puts him on alert.

Length: 2.9 K

Characters: Sloan, Bucky, OMC and OFC.

Warnings: Worry about Bucky, Bucky having regrets, Bucky concerned about Sloan’s safety.

Part 1

💻 ⛺️

Part 2

Sloan

I filed the piece I did on a homeless shelter that had been targeted by traffickers and leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms out over my head. It had been a month since I left Bucky and according to Sam, who checked in with me regularly it had been that long since anyone had heard from him. It seemed like he had dropped off the face of the Earth. Was I worried? Yes, a person doesn’t stop caring for another person they loved, even after they separate themselves from them. At least this person didn’t. Part of me hoped that after he hooked up with whatever “private security group” he had contracted with, he would undergo a reality check and realize he wasn’t a good fit with their philosophy of anything goes as long as the price is right. But no one, and I mean no one in the Avengers, had heard from him.

“Hey, are you coming out for drinks?”

I looked up at the face of another writer at the Daily, Devlin Horne. Born in South Africa, Dev had been a thorn in the side of certain old-school military remnants of the former apartheid regime. He was an investigative reporter into the right-wing groups that longed for a return to those days, until they planted a bomb under his bed, almost killing him, when he got up to use the bathroom during the night. Instead of the pressure-sensitive device going off right away, it malfunctioned, exploding while he was in the kitchen grabbing a midnight snack. Buried under the rubble for a day until he was rescued made him realize his life was in danger if he stayed in Cape Town, so he left, coming to New York to work at the Manhattan Daily, the online news platform I became a part of after I left Bucky. We became friendly acquaintances and he checked on me daily.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“We are,” he replied. “Someone has been nominated for a Scripps Howard Award.” He looked around as if it was a big secret. “It’s not you or me, however.”

“Let me guess, Tess Murray, for her piece on the Gaza,” I said, having already heard through the grapevine. It was a prestigious nomination for an online publication. “I already heard, and I will go for one drink, only because Tess asked me, as she has an idea for a collaborative piece.”

“Really?” His accent was particularly strong at that moment, and I thought I saw something dark behind his eyes … jealousy perhaps? “Well, I guess I’ll see you at Rafters then.” He winked. “Perhaps you and I can collaborate on something, sometime.”

He left me there, walking away without giving me a chance to answer. I knew what he wanted, as he made it clear within a week of my arrival that he was interested in me. Even though I told him I wasn’t up for another relationship he had been persistent, in a friendly, non-creepy way. My in-office messaging system dinged, and I looked at the computer screen seeing a message from Tess.

That piece I mentioned working together on? Just got more interesting. Come see me now, if you’re free.

I logged out and headed over to her office. As senior correspondent and the winner of several national and international journalism awards, Tess’s office was proof of her success. Compared to my desk, sharing a space with four others, her private corner office with a view in two directions was a reward for the level of writing she filed on a regular basis. I entered, and she indicated I should shut the door. Sitting on the armchair in front of her I looked at her expectantly.

“Well, I’m going to give you a name, and if you don’t want to be part of the story because of that name I understand,” she said. “He’s been off the radar for a month, and I know you have history with him.”

To say my heart didn’t come up into my throat, threatening to choke me with its increased beating would be lying. I tried to stay neutral but even her face showed a level of excitement that I knew could make this story another award winner.

“Bucky Barnes has resurfaced,” she said. “He was spotted at an arms show in the Middle East last week, scoping out some pretty high-tech weaponry. The word in certain circles is that he is connected to the Excalibur Security Group and is leading one of their infiltration units.”

Of all the groups to be associated with, why did it have to be Excalibur? Filled with former military and CIA shadow operatives, they were known to be involved in bringing oligarchs to power in resource rich third world countries. Tess brought an image up on her computer screen, turning it so I could see photographs of Bucky handling a very advanced rifle at the show. It seemed to be made just for him, as he tried out several stances with it. There must have been a look on my face because Tess suddenly put her hand on mine.

“You, okay? Is it too soon to ask you to investigate and write about your former boyfriend?”

I swallowed then let out a breath. “Yeah, it is too soon but if he’s involved with them, it’s not a good thing. Any idea what country they’re targeting?”

“Considering the fact that he lived there for two years … it has to be Wakanda. The vacuum left by the death of King T’Challa and subsequent challenge by M’Baku to take control has convinced some consortiums that the time is right for a coup. Barnes had a very public falling out with Princess Shuri with plenty of witnesses hearing her threaten to kill him if he showed his face there again. His knowledge of the country is invaluable to the right people. I heard Excalibur offered him 8 figures, just as a bonus to go in with them. For a man who ended up in this century with nothing, many wouldn’t blame him for accepting the money. The Avengers certainly couldn’t afford that.”

I leaned back in the chair and Tess turned her computer screen away from me. I looked past her, to the view of the Empire State Building and Chrysler Building. Completed within 11 months of each other in 1930, Bucky was a teenager when they were built. The view of them was something he never got enough of, a reminder of who he used to be, before World War II and HYDRA turned him into the man he was today.

“Alright,” I said. “I’m in. What do you want me to do?”

As she outlined her investigation objectives, I tried to still the hesitancy I was already feeling about this. The Excalibur Security Group had been implicated in the kidnapping, torture and deaths of several people in the countries they had already “helped” transition to a different government; people whose only real crime was standing up to outside influence and interference. I couldn’t help but wonder why, after all his years of being a puppet of HYDRA, Bucky would align himself with an organization who seemed to follow their playbook for taking control.

Bucky

It had been five weeks since I took that ride in the windowless panel van. Being taken at gunpoint and having my head covered didn’t exactly fill me with confidence but once I was vetted and went out on a few pickups myself I realized it was SOP, Standard Operating Procedure. All new hires went through the same thing. Their bags were checked for trackers, their weapons checked for serial numbers (they were supposed to be filed off), and once we arrived at a second secret location, the operative was required to strip down and prove they weren’t wearing a wire. Because of my arm and shoulder unit I had to prove nothing in them was traceable. I must have been convincing because they allowed me to keep the arm.

There were the usual types that thought they were the baddest of all badasses but when I easily dumped them on said ass during some one-on-one confrontations, they all soon realized none of them had my skill set. It would have been laughable if not for the fact that most of these guys had received their training with the military of several different countries. Either training methods had been watered down since I took basic in 1942, or these guys had faked their resumés. I must have pleased someone because I didn’t have to prove myself after that. One of the suits hanging around where our small army was holed up, made a big deal of transferring my $10 million signing bonus into the Swiss bank account that I set up once I agreed to join. Told me that after this mission I could begin to live the high life that I was entitled to. Of course, the suit didn’t realize that as soon as the money went into the account a forensic accounting team would begin tracing the source of that transfer. The forensic team were the best of the best, and their work would begin the accumulation of evidence that would be used to prosecute the money people behind the Excalibur Security Group.

Now, five weeks after that van ride, I was in a camp, located somewhere on a remote Australian ranch, in a tent by myself, since I was also made a unit commander. It was hot, dusty, and there was no wifi for miles. But the beer was cold, the food plentiful, and I just bided my time until the day we were in a place with internet so that everything I had recorded in that time could be uploaded to the cloud. Yeah, I was getting better at the tech thing as well. Sam would be proud of me. I paused as I stopped sharpening my knives for a moment. Lying to Sam had been hard. It started with challenging his decisions on missions, then openly mocking his authority. Like the counsellor he used to be he tried to deal with it with understanding. But I was surly with him, asking what made his plans better than mine, considering I had years more experience than him. Then I deliberately didn’t follow his plans during missions. I never did it to the point of endangering lives on those occasions, but my actions did cause problems and when he called me out on it, I reacted like one of those fake badasses I took care of. Before I ended it with Sloan, Sam was the last person that I broke relations with. The look of hurt on his face when I put my face into his and told him to fuck off out of my life was something that I’ll regret forever. I hoped to hell that when this mission was done, he would accept my apology and forgive me for the terrible things I said and did.

“Barnes, CO wants you,” said Ducharme, a former French special forces sergeant, sticking his head inside my tent.

I put my knife and sharpening stone aside, then headed over to the CO’s tent. Colonel William Moorehouse was a former Marine, who was unceremoniously dumped from his command, after being caught stealing gold from a drug lord in Afghanistan. The government of the moment wanted the gold to go towards reparations. He thought it his just due for taking out the drug lord and his small army. He had to give it back then was canned after. I stopped outside his tent, as the flap was down.

“Captain Barnes reporting,” I announced. Only took me 80 years to be made Captain.

“Enter,” said the Colonel’s voice. He had a computer up and I realized at that moment that he must have wifi. With luck and some time, I might be able to upload everything recorded so far. “Barnes, we’ve been monitoring online news sources to make sure word of our upcoming excursion doesn’t get out before we execute the plan. Looks like someone had loose lips but we’re not sure who spilled the beans.”

“Sir?” I questioned, not quite sure what he wanted me to do.

The tall grey-haired man turned the laptop screen towards me, and I saw a brief article from the Manhattan Daily. Its title stood out. So did its byline of the writers.

WAKANDAN COUP ATTEMPT EXPECTED: PRIVATE SECURITY FIRM MAY BE INVOLVED An unnamed source advised that the former Avenger, James Buchanan Barnes, recently fired from the group for increasingly disturbing behaviour has been hired by the private security firm, Excalibur Security Group. While his skill set would be coveted by any private security firm, the news of him being hired by ESG hints that his extensive knowledge of Wakanda may be utilized as part of a coup. Excalibur Security Group is no stranger to transitioning uncooperative governments, especially if they are in resource rich countries. Since the deaths of Wakandan king T’Challa, and his mother, Ramonda, the country appears to be troubled with the ascension of tribal chief M’Baku to the throne, after his challenge to the heir presumptive, Princess Shuri, was uncontested. Shuri and Barnes were recently witnessed in an unsettling encounter, threatening the other with death. The Daily will monitor the situation and report updates as they occur. Story filed by Tess Murray and Sloan Hunter.

I stood up, saying nothing for a moment. “I haven’t spoken to Sloan for over a month. She wouldn’t have known I signed with Excalibur as I only accepted after I broke it off with her.”

“I didn’t think you were the leak,” he replied, turning the laptop back to him. “That Murray woman has been a thorn in the side of several private security firms. She has eyes and ears everywhere. How are your assassin skills?”

“I would rather not use them,” I replied, as it was made very clear when I signed that I didn’t do that anymore. He gave me a look that said he didn’t like that answer. “My skills are still the best. You’re not considering a hit on the women, are you?”

“No, I just want it as an option if they start naming names,” he said. “Our contract is specific that we protect our client’s name and reputation, at the expense of our own. We have an operative in the same office as the Manhattan Daily. That person will be monitoring progress on the story. If they get too close, they will be dealt with, hopefully by our operative. If that isn’t possible, I’m afraid you may be sent to complete that operation.” I started to argue but he put up his hand. “It’s actually in your contract that you may be required for specific tasks. A hit would qualify.”

I wracked my brains trying to remember if I saw that clause before I signed. He bent over his laptop and brought up a document, turning it towards me.

“You can read it again, if you wish,” he said. “It was buried pretty deep but it’s there. Page 2, clause 4.8a.”

I read it and swore openly. “That was not in the contract I signed,” I insisted.

“Well, it’s there now,” he said smugly. “If you’re going to be a soldier of fortune you have to earn the money doing the dirty jobs, Barnes. Now get the hell out of my tent.”

Seething, I stepped out and swore again as I headed back to my tent.

“I hope you heard that,” I said, in a low voice once I was out of earshot of his tent but hopefully within range of the wifi, knowing it would record me. “It wasn’t in the contract I signed. You better make sure she’s safe and find their operative.”

When I stepped inside my tent I stopped immediately. I could smell aftershave and it wasn’t mine, although I had a vague memory of the scent. Someone had been in my tent while I was with the Colonel. Carefully, I scanned the inside of my quarters, checking to see if anything was misplaced from where I left it. Then I checked the obvious and not so obvious places to plant a bug, finding it on the side of one of the tent’s supports, in the shadows where it wasn’t readily visible. It wasn’t a standard issue bug, at least not one used by the Avengers or law enforcement. As I looked closer at it, I noticed a tiny symbol made up of four vertical lines. When I was with HYDRA some of the Russian guards and staff had it tattooed on the back of their hand, as it meant order in an ancient hieroglyphic of the culture present from about 5000 BC. To HYDRA, always using ancient cultural symbols to justify their measures, it was just another way of saying what they wanted for the world. With a smirk, I broke it in half then smashed it under my heel for good measure. I looked for another but didn’t find anything. It bothered me that someone would use a bug with that symbol on it. Was there a HYDRA sympathizer in the camp? If there was, I needed to identify them and find out what their game was. Were they part of the plan to infiltrate and destabilize Wakanda or was I a target? Either way, my mission just became a little harder.

Part 3

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[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family’s pool boy. He thinks it’s pretty sweet at first. He’ll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 2  | prev next  mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 14.3k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It’s not, like, super serious and we don’t really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

Chan wakes to his phone ringing. 

He grunts sleepily, turning over in bed and getting twisted in his sheets. He manages to wrestle an arm free and slaps around for his phone, nearly knocking it into the abyss that is the floor in the process. At last, he grips it and brings it in front of his face. 

It’s horrendously bright and stings his poor, sleepy eyes, but he makes out the caller ID—Lee Minho. 

“Hello?” he croaks, accepting the call. 

“Oh good, I’m still in your favorites,” Minho says in lieu of a greeting. “And good, you’re still not dead.”

“What fucking time is it?” Chan groans.

“About five a.m. for you, so four for me,” Minho answers promptly. “You haven’t texted for three days! I was kind of worried those rich fuckers murdered you and are slow-roasting your body for Christmas dinner.”

“Why the fuck are you up at four a.m.?” Chan asks, choosing to ignore the comment about cannibalism. 

“Calling you,” Minho says. “Look, I figured during the day you’d keep your phone on silent, and wouldn’t pick up no matter what. But at night, you probably have your ringer on for your alarm, and though it might be on DND, as long as I’m still one of your favorites, my call will come through on the second try.”

“I’m taking you off my favorites,” Chan says, though he makes no move to do so. 

“So why haven’t you texted?”

Chan pauses for a second, running the past couple days over in his head. He and Felix have been fucking every chance they can get—after dinner in Felix’s room, in the sauna by the pool, even once in the garden, Felix pressed up against a very expensive statue. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Chan shuffles to get it while he replies to Minho. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. This job is just—super active, you know, I’m exhausted every day.”

He cracks his door open and sees Felix in a robe standing expectantly outside. Chan gives him a sort of surprised and confused look, pointing at the phone, but gestures for him to come in, opening the door wider so he can slip through. 

“Okay, well, your best friend worries,” Minho is saying, “and so does your best friend’s boyfriend, so maybe text us at least once a day.”

“Oh, I see,” Chan says, dropping back down onto the bed with his legs dangling off the side and patting the mattress for Felix to join him. “You just called me because Jisung is worried, and you love him. Not ‘cause you’re actually concerned about me.”

“I am concerned about you,” Minho says. Felix doesn’t sit on the bed. He settles between Chan’s knees at his feet. Chan gives him a look; Felix blinks back serenely. “Jisung’s just… more teary about it, and I’m the only one that’s allowed to make him cry, so.”

Felix’s hands are on Chan’s thighs. “I promise I’ll text more from now on,” Chan says. 

“Good. So what’ve you been up to?” Minho asks.

Felix’s fingers slip under the waistband of Chan’s underwear. “Uh, not much,” Chan says. “Hey, listen, I should probably just go, like, do my job since I’m up. It gets hot in the afternoons. But get Jisung, and Jeongin if you can, and I’ll call later today. Like around 5 your time?” Minho groans. “C’mon, it’ll be nice if we can all talk.” He freezes when Felix reaches into his fucking pants and wraps a hand around his cock. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too strained. “Besides, you should be asleep.”

“Fine,” Minho grumbles. “It’ll make Jisung happy.” 

“Okay, talk later, I promise.” Felix has pulled Chan’s cock out over his waistband. “Bye.”

“Bye.” The call barely ends before Felix has his mouth on Chan. 

Chan throws his phone somewhere on his bed and hisses out a moan. “What the fuck, Felix?” Felix doesn’t reply except to hum softly around Chan’s cock. “I was talking to my friend!” Felix takes him deeper, swirling his tongue over the tip. Chan presses his hand to his mouth to muffle a moan. “What if someone saw you?” he tries again. 

This gets Felix to pull off, and Chan squashes his disappointment under his thumb. “No one saw me,” Felix says. “Abeoji is already gone, and Eomma was in the shower.”

“What if she goes to check on you before she leaves?” Chan asks. He takes the sting out of the question by reaching down and cupping Felix’s jaw. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, baby.”

“She’s not gonna check on me,” Felix says. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t care or come looking.” He huffs softly, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Now are you gonna let me blow you, or what?”

Chan laughs quietly. “‘Course I am,” he says. “You were just trying to surprise me, right?”

Felix nods petulantly, sinking back down on him, little hands braced on Chan’s thighs for support. Chan combs his fingers through Felix’s hair, getting a good fistful of the pink locks and tightening his grip—not enough to hurt, just enough for Felix to feel it. Felix hollows his cheeks and takes him even deeper, his face practically buried between Chan’s legs.

“Mm, god, Lix, does it ever stop for you?” Chan whispers. Felix shakes his head. “You just woke up and your first thought was, ‘I should go choke on Chan’s cock’?” Felix nods. “Jesus.” He brushes his own hair back with his other hand. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it properly.”

He forces Felix’s head down a little, and Felix swallows around him, gagging softly, but he doesn’t resist. His eyes flutter shut as he takes Chan deeper still, until Chan feels the head of his cock hit the back of Felix’s throat. He stops then, giving Felix a second to adjust. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whimpers softly. “Can’t believe how well you take me.” He reaches down and smoothes his thumb over Felix’s pinched eyebrows. “Breathe, baby. Relax. I’m gonna fuck your throat, right?”

Felix does as he’s told with a nod, breathing in deep through his nose, melting against Chan’s body. His grip on Chan’s thighs loosens, and he swallows around Chan again, this time without gagging. He looks up at Chan, pretty eyes wide and inviting. 

“Ready?” Chan asks. Felix gives a minuscule nod. “Pinch me if you need to stop.” Felix rolls his eyes; Chan gives him an exasperated look in return, tightens the fist in Felix’s hair, and first pulls him off, then pushes him back down. 

Felix can take a lot. Chan learned that quickly. But still, it amazes him how quietly and easily he can deepthroat Chan. And Chan’s a realist, he knows he’s sort of just average size, but it’s not like he’s small. He shoves his cock down Felix’s throat and the only noise that comes is the wetness of the thick saliva that has gathered in Felix’s mouth. It takes a long minute or two before Felix starts gagging, but even then he doesn’t ask Chan to stop.

A sort of haze gathers in Chan’s peripheral, and he forces himself to pull out. Felix coughs wetly, panting, as Chan jerks himself off with quick, rough strokes. He realizes Felix has started to cry, but Felix only swipes the tears away and tips his head back, opening his mouth. “Wanna taste you, daddy,” he demands, voice hoarse. He sticks his tongue out, making his eyes big and pleading.

Chan curses softly and lays the head of his cock on Felix’s tongue with shaking hands. “Gonna make me—” He can’t even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, but Felix knows. It only takes a couple more strokes, and he’s coming on Felix’s tongue, coating the roof of his mouth with his release. 

Felix doesn’t try to swallow until Chan finally pulls out, and once he does he opens his mouth after to prove he did it.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan murmurs, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. “Come here, baby, up on the bed with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Felix lets Chan pull him up onto the mattress and manhandle him into his lap. Chan scoots them back, rotating so he can lean up against the headboard. Felix hardly seems to pay this any mind, already attaching his mouth to Chan’s chest, kissing over his collarbones. 

Chan undoes the sash of Felix’s robe, and he shrugs it off, letting the fabric slip away, revealing his pretty body. Chan can see his cock, tip beading precome, glistening even in the dark. He tries not to think about how there’s probably a dark wet stain on one of the folds of Felix’s robes. 

“Baby,” Chan whispers, taking hold of Felix’s chin and forcing him to look up. “There you are.” He leans in and kisses him, letting go of his jaw so he can wrap his arms around Felix’s waist instead, pulling him in. He can taste himself on Felix’s tongue, earthy and bitter. Felix moans into his mouth, rolling his hips up, his cock dragging against Chan’s abs. 

“Mm, I, I,” Felix says between kisses. “I fingered myself open b-before I came down here. Used lots of lube, so—” Chan nips at his lip and he cuts himself off to gasp. “—so I’m nice ‘n’ wet. You can—you can finger me, daddy, please.”

“Fuck,” Chan mutters, letting one hand dip down low, circling Felix’s entrance. He’s slick with lube, just like he said, and two of Chan’s fingers slip in with ease. Chan can picture it clearly, Felix on his elbows and knees, panting quietly in the pre-morning blue dark of his room, working himself open and making sure every spot he can reach is wet and ready before clambering off his bed and wrapping himself in his robe to come down and wake Chan up.

“Told you, I’ll keep myself prepped for you,” Felix says breathily. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Chan accuses.

“No, I’m not into necrophilia,” Felix replies immediately. 

“I hate you,” Chan mutters, suppressing a smile. He shoves a third finger in and presses up. Felix drops his forehead to Chan’s shoulder, making a noise of surprise. Chan thrusts his fingers up again, hot satisfaction settling under his skin when he feels more precome blurt out of the tip of Felix’s cock and drip down onto Chan’s stomach. 

“Yes, yes,” Felix pants. “Like that, daddy, yes.” He rocks his hips up, and if Chan hadn’t literally just come, he knows he’d be in danger. 

He fingers Felix fast and ruthless, holding him close with his other arm and murmuring praise into his ear. Felix digs his fingernails into Chan’s biceps, bouncing back on Chan’s fingers, rutting his cock up against Chan’s body. His moans are quiet—even he knows what they’re doing is a little risky—but the sounds fill Chan’s head anyway.

“Such a perfect little slut,” Chan coos. “Always wanting to be filled, trying to get off. What am I gonna do with you, babygirl?” 

Felix whines softly, biting down on Chan’s pec, low enough that a tank top will easily cover it. Chan sees the muscles in his back tense. He rarely announces it when he’s going to come—Chan almost wonders if it’s a surprise to him each time, except he can’t imagine that’s true—but Chan’s getting pretty good at figuring him out. 

“Gonna come, sweetheart?” he murmurs, leaning close and speaking into Felix’s temple. Felix nods jerkily. “Gonna come on daddy’s fingers? Lemme see it, baby.” 

Felix lets out a soft, defeated sob, and then he’s coming all over Chan’s stomach, hole clenching and unclenching around Chan’s fingers. “Fuck, oh fuck, daddy, daddy,” he babbles, muffled. It takes over his whole body; he shakes, toes curling in the sheets, fingers and arms rigid. At last he collapses against Chan, right into the mess he just made.

Chan pulls his fingers out, reaching with his other hand for the box of tissues on his nightstand. He presses kisses to the top of Felix’s head while he cleans off his fingers, then reaches down to swipe away the excess around his hole. Felix whimpers softly. 

“Sore?” Chan murmurs. “Sorry, just don’t want you to walk out of here with lube dripping down your thighs.”

Felix moans happily. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I would,” Chan says, pinching his hip. 

“Mmm,” Felix hums. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Oh fuck, is that today?” Chan asks. “I was wondering what this was all about.”

Felix sits back, reaching for a tissue too so he can clean off his tummy. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m going to be totally booked all of tomorrow with family stuff. Tonight too. Such a drag.”

Chan nudges him. “You’ll get presents, at least,” he points out. “And it’s just a couple days. I think you can survive without my dick for that long.”

“What if I can’t?” Felix asks, but he’s grinning. 

“Then you know where to find me,” Chan replies, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Felix drapes his arms over Chan’s shoulders and kisses back with a sweet sigh. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Felix asks when they pull away. 

“Oh,” Chan says, glancing around to see his phone balancing precariously at the foot of the bed. “My friend from home. Just wondering why I hadn’t texted for the past couple days. Worried I was murdered or something.”

“Just a friend?” Felix asks. 

Chan frowns at him. “Uh, yeah, just a friend. What are you, jealous? I don’t ask who else you might be fucking.”

Felix sighs. “I was just wondering.” He pats around behind him and finds his robe, drawing it up over his shoulders. 

Chan feels bad for snapping at him. It was just a question. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Would it be a problem, if he wasn’t just a friend?”

“No,” Felix says, but it’s curt. 

“Baby, you can talk to me, you know?” Chan tries to reach up and touch his face, but Felix ducks away, expression souring.

“I said no. It’s fine,” he says. He climbs off Chan’s lab, tossing the soiled tissue in the garbage and bending to pick up his sash. “I’m going back to bed to get some more sleep,” he says as he fastens it. “It’s almost six, so you should probably head to breakfast before Maya leaves for the day. Our private chef won’t cook for you like she does.”

Right, Christmas. Maya will be off at around ten today and won’t be back until the day after Christmas. It’s just going to be Chan and the chef for the holiday. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chan agrees uncertainly. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, pausing to give Chan a swift kiss before sweeping out of the room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Chan whispers to the closed door. 

* * *

“Chan!” Jisung picks up on the first ring, even though Chan called Minho’s phone. “I miss you, how are you?”

“Hey Jisung,” Chan replies, grinning. “I’m good. I miss you too. All of you. Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Minho calls, sounding a little faint, like he’s across the room. 

Chan finished his chores early and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood for this call. He’s not sure yet exactly how much he’s going to tell his friends, but he definitely wants to talk somewhere where he can’t be overheard.

“Hi Chan!” This is Jeongin. “We’re at Minho’s parents’ house for a Christmas party! We’re hiding out in Minho’s bedroom with the cats while all the grown-ups deal with the food.”

“So what have you been up to?” Minho asks, sounding much closer to the phone now. “I refuse to believe you’ve just been working. How’s Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Chan says. “And it’s hot.”

“It’s so weird to me that Christmas is in the summer there,” Jeongin says. “It fucking snowed here last night.”

“Sounds nice,” Chan says, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “It’s literally brutal here.”

“So, seriously, you’re just sweating your balls of cleaning some rich family’s pool, and that’s it? Do you get time off?” Minho resumes grilling him. “School hasn’t started yet, so you can’t be that busy.”

“You guys are alone?” Chan confirms. 

“Yes, we are,” Jisung says. “What, what is it?”

“So, uh.” Chan scratched the back of his head, looking around to make sure he’s alone on the street. “Well, this family has a couple of kids, right, and they’re all around our age. The son, Felix, he’s the same year as you, Jisung. And…” Chan hesitates, not sure how to explain.

“Oh my god,” Minho says loudly. “Oh my god, Chan, are you fucking him?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Chan mutters, and then has to hold his phone away from his ear as his friends erupt into shrieks of shock. 

Jeongin: “Hyung, you’re gonna get fired.”

Jisung: “Is he hot?”

Minho: “So that’s why you haven’t been texting us!”

“Yes, obviously he’s hot,” Chan says, choosing the easiest of these to reply to. “He’s beautiful, and he wears little skirts and stockings and makeup. And he was the one that seduced me, I’ll have you all know. He wouldn’t leave me alone! What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”

“Yes,” Minho says drily.

“So, like, what are you gonna do?” Jisung asks. 

“I dunno! He goes back to school in like a month, which is over in Perth so it’s not like I’ll see him after that, except maybe over Easter break.” Chan kicks at a pebble. “I like him, though. When he’s not being a little brat, he’s very sweet.” He pauses, thinking back to this morning. “A little odd, though.”

“Anyone would be odd if they grew up around that much money,” Minho points out. 

“He’s really moody,” Chan says. “Not sure what causes it, but… he’s just hard to figure out, I guess. But I like him.”

“It’s that good, huh?” Minho teases, and Chan groans. 

“Yes, okay? I wish you guys could see him, you’d understand,” Chan says. “He’s so pretty. He doesn’t look real.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating him,” Jeongin suggests, laughing. 

“I almost wish I was,” Chan mutters wearily. “But anyway, that’s it, really. Just me making some really poor decisions. But what about you guys? How have things been since I left?”

The other three launch into updates about their lives—family drama, news from school. Chan listens, comforted by their voices and the familiarity of their struggles. The whole time he’s been here, he’s been so busy with his work (and with Felix) that he didn’t realize how homesick he was, but now, listening to his friends chatter, he feels kinda lonely. He takes a couple more turns around the block this way, chatting and laughing.

“My mom’s calling, I think we have to go,” Minho says finally. 

“Go on, enjoy your party,” Chan says. “We’ll call again soon.”

“Enjoy your fuckbuddy,” Jeongin says.

“Think about it this way!” Jisung says cheerfully when Chan groans. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting him pregnant!”

“I’m hanging up,” Chan says over their laughter. “I love you all, somehow. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, hyung!”

“We love you, too.”

Chan waits for them to hang up, then pockets his phone with a sigh. The air is still and quiet now without their voices in his ear. He makes his way back to the house, punching in the code for the gate and slipping past, making sure it closes behind him. He goes around back, taking the staff entrance by the garage. The family is still having dinner. Once they move to the second floor, he supposes he’ll go scrounge for leftovers. 

* * *

Christmas passes. Chan doesn’t see Felix again until a couple days after, which does strike him as bizarre seeing how they live in the same house. Felix returns to him with a smile, like the weird moment they had the morning of Christmas Eve never happened. Chan chooses to ignore it, too, and in doing so, closes a door on some of his emotions swirling beneath the surface. It’s not like that will go anywhere, right? Felix has made that clear. 

And so they fall into a routine. Now that the holidays are coming to a close, Felix has realized he has some prep work for school, so he spends his mornings on that while Chan does his chores. When he finishes, he sneaks up to Felix’s room so they can fuck before dinner. Luckily, with the sparse number of staff members, they’re never in danger of getting caught.

New Year’s Eve comes before Chan knows it. The family has a party to attend after dinner, so Chan hurries through his chores since Felix will need time to get dressed. He scarfs down a lunch of cold leftovers, and then picks his way upstairs, dodging Olivia and one of the maids. They didn’t have a chance yesterday since Felix had an appointment in town—something about a magazine shoot, though Chan didn’t really get the details.

Felix is at his desk, bent over a textbook, glitter pen in hand when Chan opens his door. He looks up and immediately breaks into a smile when he sees him, capping his pen and putting it down, closing the book over it to mark his place. Chan locks the door behind him and crosses the room, taking Felix’s face in his hands and kissing him without saying hello. 

“Ugh, finally, you’re so slow,” Felix complains between kisses, letting Chan pull him to his feet and push the chair out of the way. His beautiful voice, Chan finds himself thinking. Deep and rich and smooth. “I was so bored, daddy, and I missed you yesterday, and—ah!”

Chan bends him over his desk with a hand on his back. Felix’s knees knock cutely as he grips the edge of the desk, making breathless little noises of want. His tiny skirt—white today, with a matching bralette and thigh-highs that dig into the soft skin and create a little bubble over the top—hides nothing at this angle, flipped up to reveal Felix’s pink little hole, his cock hanging between his thighs. He’s not wearing any panties.

“You’re such a brat,” Chan murmurs, hoping his tone hides the worst of his affection, pulling the chair back and sitting down in it, scooting closer and spreading Felix’s ass with one hand. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Felix chants, shivering. 

“Did you get all clean for me?” Chan asks, pressing a dry thumb to his rim. 

“Yes, I saw you finishing up in the pool,” Felix tells him, breathless. “But you’re gonna have to prep me, I didn’t have time.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Chan says, and leans in, licking a flat stripe over his entrance. Felix moans again, pushing his ass back, and after a few more minutes of teasing, Chan eats him out in earnest, getting both of them messy with spit as he works to push his tongue inside.

One day without each other shouldn’t make such a difference, but both of them have clearly gotten used to getting off multiple times a day, so the wait has felt like forever. Chan’s already rock-hard in his shorts, a tent forming in the fabric over his crotch. 

Felix is dripping precome onto the floor between his feet, Chan notices when he pulls back to take a breath. It’s kind of cute and really hot, the way he hands his body over to Chan and does very little to manage the way it reacts.

Chan reaches into the second desk drawer for lube so he can actually open Felix up, drizzling some over his index finger and giving Felix one last kiss before pushing his finger inside. 

“Oh-hhh, yes, Chan,” Felix slurs, pressing his cheek to the desk. 

Chan stretches him easily, Felix’s body already used to this kind of intrusion. He finds his prostate and pets over the spot, watching Felix shake. They’ve never tried it, but Chan wants to watch him come like this, so he stays here, massaging over the spot and stroking over Felix’s perineum with his thumb at the same time. 

“Oh, fuck, feels so good,” Felix mumbles. “Mm, keep going. I feel warm, Chan, all over.”

“Good,” Chan says quietly. Felix gasps out little moans, his legs trembling. “Relax, baby, it only works if you relax.”

Felix whimpers but obeys, slumping against the desk and letting Chan milk his prostate. After a few more minutes, a shudder passes through Felix’s whole body, and a small spurt of release dribbles from Felix’s cock, dripping down his legs and mixing with his precome on the floor. 

“Ohhh, god, that’s so—I can’t—Chan,” Felix babbles. “More.”

Chan adds a second finger, scissoring them inside Felix to press at his walls. He is trying to prep him, after all. Once Felix’s body seems to accommodate the stretch, Chan starts again, stroking over his prostate, slow and insistent. 

He’s only seen it in porn, if he’s being honest, but Chan does his research. He tried it on himself once, but either it’s really that much better with a partner or Chan’s body just doesn’t do that, but it didn’t work—it felt nice at first, but ended up just kind of uncomfortable. He’s delighted (and honestly unsurprised) to find that Felix is capable.

Felix shudders out soft moans, voice sweet and poisonous as ever, shakily readjusting his grip on the desk. It’s obscene, Chan thinks, leaning back in the chair to take him in. His little skirt lies flat against his back. One of his thigh-highs is slipping down. There’s a puddle of his release between his feet. Chan couldn’t have imagined something hotter. 

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers, so soft, so helpless. “Think I’m gonna—feels so—” He chokes on a moan, going up on his tiptoes and bending his knees. More release drips out. He settles again, body heavy against the desk, like his legs really are going to give out at any moment. “It feels like coming,” he mumbles, “but not.”

“You look so pretty, baby, so wrecked,” Chan says softly, leaning around so Felix can see him over his shoulder. “Think you can take another finger?”

“Yes,” Felix says immediately. “You’re still gonna fuck me, right?”

Chan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Of course I am,” he replies. “We have all afternoon, don’t we?”

Felix hums, placated. “Yes,” he agrees softly. 

Chan pushes three fingers in. Felix tenses around him for half a second, and then relaxes with a sigh. Chan sinks his fingers all the way to the last knuckle, moving slow and enjoying Felix’s reactions, the way he huffs out little moans, the way his legs still won’t stop shaking. 

One of Felix’s hands slips off the desk, and instead of trying to regain his grip, he brings the dropped hand to his cock, stroking in time with Chan’s fingers. Chan doesn’t even bother saying anything. He knows even if Felix comes, he’ll be able to come again when Chan fucks him. 

“Chan, mm, god, Chan,” Felix mumbles. “Always make me feel so good.”

It only takes Chan cramming his pinky in beside the others for Felix to convulse against his desk, hips twitching as he comes. It spills over his knuckles and down his legs, soaking into the fabric of his thigh-highs. 

“Ready,” Chan says calmly, pulling his fingers out and letting Felix struggle through pushing himself off the desk and upright. 

He manages it, turning around and carefully avoiding the puddle of his release on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk and looking down at Chan through heavy-lidded eyes. He brings his soiled hand up to his lips and sticks one of his fingers in his mouth, cleaning himself up as he catches his breath. 

“God,” he hums. “It’s gonna be so annoying when I go back to school.” Another finger pops out clean; he moves on to the next. “Who’s gonna fuck me like this?” He turns his hand so he can lick over the back of it. “You’re gonna have to call me, daddy.”

Chan smiles. “Guess I will,” he agrees. 

“Good.” Felix’s hand is clean of come, and he reaches behind him for a tissue, then turns back around and bends down to wipe off the floor. Chan clenches his hands in his lap so he doesn’t pinch Felix’s ass, even though he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what Felix wants. Felix stands again, tossing the tissue into the garbage and giving Chan a glance over his shoulder before waltzing over to his bed. “Well? Come fuck me.”

Chan stands, tugging off his clothes and draping them over the back of the desk chair. “Just one round, though,” he says. “Your parents will be home soon, and you have your New Year’s dinner to get ready for.”

“If you hurry, we’ll have time for two,” Felix says slyly. 

Chan, now naked, strolls past him to grab a condom, one hand on his cock to start working himself up to full hardness. “Why are you so insatiable?” he asks.

“C’mon, quick,” Felix demands, pouting.

Chan tears the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on and spreading a little lube over his cock. “God, but if they find out, they’d be so mad,” he says. The fear is real, but right now it’s far away, and easy to joke about. “They’d never forgive me for corrupting you.” 

They both know if anything, it was the other way around, but neither of them mention it. Instead, Felix bends over the bed, arching his back and spreading himself with his hands. “Corrupting me?” he repeats. “Then come finish the job, daddy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Chan murmurs. He grabs his underwear from the chair and brings them back to the bed with him. “Open. You’re gonna be loud, and I know one of the maids is right downstairs.” 

Felix obeys, blinking up at him prettily as Chan stuffs his underwear into his mouth. Satisfied, Chan steps back, lining himself up behind Felix and gently swatting his hands out of the way. He collects Felix’s wrists in one of his palms and pins them against his tailbone, right over the pleats of his skirt.

For how casually he’s been acting, Chan is aching. He stops wasting time, finally pushing in with a soft groan. Felix lets out a muffled whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. Chan tightens his grip on Felix’s wrists as he bottoms out, clenching his jaw.

“So tight today, babygirl,” he grits out. “Does it hurt?” Felix nods with another tiny whimper. “Doesn’t matter how much I fuck you, does it? Just one day, and your body tightens right back up for me.” He takes a couple slow, shallow thrusts, waiting for Felix to open up for him. “Perfect,” he adds. “Made for fucking.”

Felix moans at this, barely audible through the fabric crammed in his mouth. His hair has partially fallen into his face. He looks like an angel, Chan thinks before he can stop himself. It wouldn’t matter; it’s true whether Chan lets himself think it or not. 

Chan can move with ease now, so he speeds up, thrusting in with much more force until the sound of skin against skin is loud enough to make him a little nervous. But Felix is making pleased sounds, so Chan decides it’s worth a little risk. He lets his jaw drop open, panting out sharp exhales, trying to keep himself silent as best he can.

It’s difficult, though. Felix is warm and wet around him. Pleasure is a hot, heavy stone in the pit of Chan’s stomach, and the feeling only grows with every movement. The A/C is on high, but still Chan feels sweat beading on his hairline, can feel the flush that’s crept up his neck to his cheeks and down to his chest.

Felix moans out what sounds like yes, daddy, faster. Chan obeys immediately, somehow speeding up the rocking up his hips. Felix’s eyebrows pinch prettily, his eyes finding Chan’s. He’s picture-perfect, even with his hair in his face and tears welling up quick on his waterline. Maybe especially. One tear spills over, a fat drop of water. It rolls sideways down his face, over the bridge of his cute nose, distorting his freckles. He blinks, and another tear falls, and another. His eyeliner begins to smear. 

Chan doesn’t know why, but Felix’s tears turn him on just as much as the skirts and stockings. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Feels that good?” Felix manages a nod, sniffling. “Finally getting fucked like you wanted?” Another nod, followed by a muffled sob. Chan has half the mind to take the makeshift gag out, just to hear Felix’s voice. “Gonna take care of you,” he says instead. This gets him another muted sob in response, and pride glows warm in his chest. 

Chan continues to pound into him, almost enraptured by the way Felix’s tears work to ruin his careful makeup. Felix’s wrists slip from his hold, but Chan doesn’t move to take them again. If Felix wants to take the underwear out, Chan doesn’t think he wants to stop him. Felix doesn’t, though, just uses his arms to prop himself on his elbows, fucking himself back on Chan’s cock, taking fistfuls of the sheets and letting his head hang. 

Chan secures a hold on Felix’s waist with one hand, using the other to reach up and grab Felix’s hair. Felix makes a noise of want in the back of his throat the instant Chan’s fingertips brush past his scalp. Chan takes his pretty hair into his fist and uses it to pull his head back up, until Felix is arched back and whimpering. He wishes there was a mirror, so he could see the tear-tracks on his face, the red blush that colors his neck and chest, the way his tiny fingers are curled tight into the duvet. 

Felix spits the gag out, almost like a challenge. “Y-yes,” he stutters, finally free. “Chan, yes, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna feel you all night long, you’re all I’m gonna think about.”

Chan can’t help the noise that escapes him, low and guttural. He likes that a lot. Felix will be around so many rich, beautiful people tonight, but he’ll have the reminder of Chan with every step. A mark of possession. Chan might never be part of the world Felix is from, but he’ll have this. He’ll know he had him. 

Felix does seem to try to keep his noises to a minimum, despite the fact that he doesn’t have anything stopping him anymore. Either he’s just humoring Chan, trying to prove that he can be good, or he’s actually taken Chan’s warning to heart. He cries softly, the sound muted by his closed lips. 

“Staying so quiet for me,” Chan whispers. “Good girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix says in a small, broken voice. “F-fuck, daddy, thank you, thank you.” 

Chan presses his fingers into Felix’s hips, wondering if he can sear his fingerprints in through the fabric of the skirt if he tries hard enough. He feels the heat build inside him, a fever threatening to eat him alive. Stars float in front of his vision, and he fights to keep an even pace. Felix hiccups out little moans, mumbling more thank you, daddys and right there, yes, pleases. Chan’s world is spinning, spinning; he makes some kind of noise, but it’s hazy even to his own ears. He thinks he feels the tension snap in his stomach.

“Mm, yes,” Felix hisses out. Chan closes his eyes, his hips still moving, though erratically now. “So warm, daddy, can feel it. Wish you could fill me up for real, wish I could keep you with me tonight, a load plugged up and hidden—”

There’s rushing in Chan’s ears, and he sways, body twitching. He thinks he lets go of Felix’s hair, thinks he can feel Felix clenching around him, can feel him writhing in pleasure beneath him, but it’s all so far away.

Chan tilts himself forward, caging Felix’s body with his arms and resting his forehead against his back, breathing deep and slow. Felix giggles softly. The noise is a little clearer, or maybe Chan’s just closer. “Are you gonna pass out?” he hears Felix ask.

“No,” he says hoarsely, then reconsiders and adds, “I don’t know.”

Another breathy giggle. “‘Cause I wouldn’t be able to move,” Felix says. “I’d—I’d be trapped here with you on top of me, still inside me.”

The world is coming back into focus, but Chan doesn’t dare open his eyes. He feels lightheaded. “You sound like you’d like that a lot,” he mutters. “Didn’t you just come?

“Yeah, but you know. Worse people to be trapped under,” Felix hums placidly. “Worse cocks to be stuck on.”

“Thanks, I think,” Chan says.

They lay there for a few long moments, just breathing. Chan doesn’t drop his full weight onto Felix—as much as Felix seems convinced he’d like it, Chan is a little worried he’s going to crush him. It is oddly peaceful, slowly floating down together in the afterglow. The room smells like sex, but Chan’s nose is against Felix’s skin, and the sweet citrusy scent all but overpowers it. He takes another deep breath.

“Felix! Olivia!” The intercom crackles to life and Chan nearly has a heart attack, snapping his eyes open and lurching off of Felix’s body before realizing Mrs. Lee’s voice is coming from the speaker, which means she has to be downstairs in her office. “We have dinner in an hour and the Hwang’s New Year’s Eve party to get to right after. Your sister is already ready. I won’t allow us to be late! Dressed and downstairs in forty-five minutes, no excuses!”

The room is silent, and then Felix buries his face in his duvet and laughs.

“How are you laughing?” Chan complains. “I think I almost pissed myself.”

“Take back what I said,” Felix says into the duvet. “Glad you have a condom on. Piss is where I draw the line.”

Chan pulls out, rolling the offending condom off and tossing it in the trash. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Well, you heard her.” Felix stands, too, reaching for a tissue to wipe his come off the bed. “You have forty-five minutes to not look like you just got fucked, so you better hurry up.”

“I’m a professional, I can do it in twenty,” Felix says. When he turns to Chan, he’s got a glint in his eye that Chan knows means trouble. “Which means we have time for one last round.” 

“Felix, she’s home,” Chan hisses.

“So?” Felix says. “We’ve fucked with my parents home before.”

“Yeah, but not on a night like tonight!” Chan says. “What if she comes up to check that you’re actually getting ready?”

Felix makes a face. “She won’t,” he says, and there’s a bitterness there that Chan doesn’t quite understand. “She’d rather be disappointed.” He seems to sense Chan is wavering, and clears his expression. “Please,” he wheedles. “One more, just one. So I can make it through this stupid party.”

“I thought you were friends with the Hwangs’ son,” Chan says, but he’s already going for a fresh condom. Felix tosses him his underwear and he puts them with his other clothing.

“Yeah, but our parents are going to be breathing down our fucking necks,” Felix says. He crawls up to the head of the bed. “You can go slow this time, so the bed doesn’t creak. Besides,” he adds with a giggle as he unclasps his bralette and throws it in the general direction of his hamper. “I think if you fucked me like you just did, I’d bleed—which normally I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think Eomma would take kindly to bloodstains on my new suit.”

“Oh, a suit?” Chan says, raising an eyebrow, climbing onto the bed, too. Felix reaches out for his cock, so Chan moves closer, watching Felix’s little hands wrap around it. He’s sensitive, but they’ve taken enough of a break that it’s not unbearable.

“Mm, a suit. It’s white silk, very pretty,” Felix says. “This is a serious event, my parents would never let me go in a skirt.”

“I’ll always like the skirts best,” Chan says as Felix sits up properly so he can press his tongue to the tip of Chan’s cock. Chan inhales sharply through clenched teeth, the air almost whistling from the speed. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a pretty suit, too.”

“Come see us off after dinner,” Felix says. “Ask my mum if she needs anything before she goes. She’ll like that, and you’ll get to see me.”

“Okay,” Chan agrees softly, running a hand through Felix’s hair.

Felix uses his hands and mouth to work Chan back up to hardness. Chan watches the clock. It takes ten minutes. He’s going to have to be quick if they don’t want to get caught. There’s a part of him that knows he should’ve said no, should’ve gotten dressed and left, but a bigger part of him is enjoying the risk. Or maybe it’s just the part of him that wants to agree to everything Felix says.

So Chan rolls the new condom on, adds more lube. Felix settles back into the pillows, spreading his legs, cock just beginning to harden again underneath his skirt. Downstairs, Felix’s family prepares for dinner, for a party, and doesn’t wonder what’s taking Felix so long, doesn’t wonder where Chan has disappeared to. Just a few floors above them, Chan pushes back into Felix’s body with a soft grunt. Felix wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders, his legs around Chan’s waist, pulling him close. 

It’s slow and quiet, completely different from the way they are just a half an hour before. Chan stays buried deep and circles his hips, grinding into Felix, his lips on Felix’s throat, his Adam’s Apple, his jaw. Felix ducks his head so they can kiss, deep and fierce and almost noiseless. 

“Chan,” Felix whispers between kisses. “So good to me.”

Chan smiles against his lips. Here, wrapped in each other's bodies, they can’t possibly hurt each other. “Of course I am,” he says. “I want what you want.”

“Even when it’s a terrible idea?” Amusement is a shining light behind Felix’s eyes.

Chan kisses him, quick and almost chaste. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Yes,” Felix whispers. The amusement fades, replaced by something else. “You’re here.”

Chan cups his face in his hands, stroking over his cheekbones with his thumbs. His makeup is destroyed, mascara drying on his cheeks and lip gloss smudged on his chin. His nose is still red, eyes still puffy, from crying. And he’s beautiful. I’ll be here as long as you want me, Chan thinks helplessly.

He kisses him again so he doesn’t say it. Their noses bump, but Felix leans in insistently, holding Chan close, fingers interlocked behind his neck. Chan breathes Felix in, lemon and sugar and sweat, rolling his hips, dirty and deep, swallowing all of Felix’s soft moans. Chan can feel Felix’s heartbeat under his fingertips, quick like a rabbit’s. Felix holds him close like he doesn’t want to let go.

When Chan comes, he doesn’t even make a sound. It passes through his body like something washing up on the shore—slow, almost languid, final. Felix kisses him through it, clenching tight dutifully, making it good for him. 

Chan pulls out and replaces his cock with a couple of his fingers, and works them in as deep as they’ll go, then thrusts shallowly, not enough to make a lot of noise. With his other hand, he thumbs over the slit of Felix’s cock. Felix covers his mouth with his hands, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling, abdomen tight from the exertion. 

He comes in a few weak dribbles that run down Chan’s knuckles, a tiny amount of fluid, nearly clear. Felix twists in the sheets but stays quiet, lifting his hips up off the bed as he shakes. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whines high and faint in the back of his throat.

There are twenty minutes exactly left for Felix to get ready when Chan hops off the bed to discard the condom and go wash his hands. Felix is working his way to the edge of the bed when Chan returns from the bathroom. He grabs his tank top and throws it on, walking over to the bed to give Felix a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll come see you off later, yeah?” he says.

Felix nods. “I’ll see you later.” He slips down onto the floor and stumbles, knees buckling. Chan grabs him before he can fall to the floor, and Felix giggles weakly. “Oh god, you fucked me so good, hyung,” he says, voice syrupy-sweet. “Oh, shit.” Chan lets him go and he wobbles, but remains standing. “Oh, my legs feel like jelly. What if I can’t walk?” He’s still giggling when he looks up at Chan.

“That’s not funny,” Chan groans, heading back to the desk chair to put on the rest of his clothes. “If your parents find out about this because I fucked you so hard you can’t walk right, I will literally never forgive myself.”

“Kind of a great way to go, though,” Felix says blithely, waltzing into the bathroom. “Go, before they really do catch you.”

“Right,” Chan mutters to himself, tying the waistband of his shorts.

* * *

Chan goes to bed early that night. He sees the family off, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye. The suit is very pretty, a warm-toned white, oversized and draped over Felix’s body perfectly. The shirt is made of a shimmery, gossamer fabric, and Mrs. Lee reminds Felix three times to button another button. She also tells Chan to take a bottle of champagne from the cellar to celebrate. 

Chan takes a bottle but doesn’t open it, just leaves it on his desk and heads into the shower to wash the day’s sins off of his body. He finds Felix’s come crusted in his nailbeds, and hopes to god nobody noticed.

He falls asleep long before midnight and wakes sometime in the stifling darkness of the early hours to a body next to his own, warm and smelling of champagne.

“Felix?” he whispers. “What time is it? Are you drunk?”

“No, just a little tipsy,” Felix whispers back. He sounds clearheaded; he must be telling the truth. “And it’s a little past two. Your door was unlocked. I just—wanted to come say goodnight. I wanted to see you.”

He’s not in his suit. He’s not in a robe, either; instead, little sleep shorts and an unassuming t-shirt, loose and soft from wear. Chan blinks against the dark, reaching a hand up to touch his face. His hair is still damp from his shower. “How was the party?”

Felix crawls under the blankets, pressing cold toes to Chan’s shins. “It was alright. I got to see my friends, at least. I need to see you and Changbin side by side. I think his arms are even bigger than yours.”

Chan exhales soft laughter, wrapping an arm around Felix and kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, alright is better than bad, I guess,” he says. “Make any resolutions?”

“To continue being a horrible little brat,” Felix replies, giggling. “You?”

“I didn’t,” Chan admits. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s just another day,” Felix says with a half-shrug. “Just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow.”

“That’s true,” Chan agrees softly, some tender feeling blooming in his chest. 

“Happy New Year,” Felix whispers.

“Happy New Year,” Chan repeats.

“I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight,” Felix says.

“You do now,” Chan says, and kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning, Felix is already gone, but his sheets smell like champagne and lemons and sugar.

* * *

Chan is in the garden, trimming away dead leaves. Jerry went home early—a doctor’s appointment, Chan thinks he said, so it’s up to Chan to tend to the plants. The afternoon sun is punishing, beating against his back, but Chan honestly doesn’t mind it. The garden, when he’s alone, is peaceful. 

The first week or so of January has passed quietly. There’s only a couple weeks now before the new semester begins, and Chan finds himself looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to have other people around his age to talk to—Felix doesn’t count. 

Speaking of Felix, he thinks to himself as he moves down the row of plants, I wonder where he is? Chan didn’t see him at breakfast or at lunch. It’s not unlike him to sleep in, especially now that his break is almost finished, but Chan usually sees him before the afternoon wears on. Then again, Chan is usually around the house, not out in the gardens. 

He works his way to the center of the garden throughout the afternoon, pausing every now and again for water or sunblock. He gets to the clearing where he found Felix that first evening, and after he finishes his work there, he decides to give himself a break, dropping down onto the bench with a sigh.

He sits there awhile, answering a couple texts and checking his socials. It’s not so bad in the shade, and there’s a breeze today, so Chan actually finds himself comfortable after a few minutes of rest. He tips his head back, looking up at the trees.

He can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. This is an estate. It should be a museum. The whole property is so sterile, almost, pristine; meant for looking at, not living in. Chan honestly found it hard to believe anyone lived this way, except maybe the richest people in the world. But now here Chan is as proof—this sort of life is lived in, just meticulously looked after by unseen hands. 

Chan lets himself sit and contemplate for about a half an hour, and then begrudgingly gets to his feet to get back to work. He collects his tools and is about to move on when he hears uneven footfalls coming his way. 

Felix appears in the entrance to the clearing, wearing the tiny booty shorts and holding a nearly full bottle of wine. It’s a red today, and looks expensive. His lips are stained the faintest hint of dark purple, and his eyes, vacant and unfocused, light up when he sees Chan.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exclaims. His crop top is slipping off the one of his shoulders; it slips further as he heads Chan’s way. Uneasy, Chan drops his tools back in the grass and pockets his phone. 

“Hey, Felix,” he says slowly, eyeing the bottle in his hand. “Is that… all you drank?” He can’t imagine it is; Felix stumbles over his own feet in the grass. 

Felix holds it up and looks at it, then takes another sip. “No,” he says, almost sing-songy. “I finished one after I got home.”

“Home from where?” Chan asks, letting Felix fall into his arms. “Careful, baby.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He’s busy pressing closer to Chan, nose against his neck. “Hi, daddy,” he slurs. “Missed you this morning.” He surges up and kisses Chan, wet and messy.

Chan raises his chin to get out of his reach. “Uh, yeah,” he says, debating the merits of taking the wine from Felix and the chances he’ll succeed. “I was working, like usual. Where… were you?”

“Oh, you know,” Felix mumbles vaguely, leaning in. Chan flinches back instinctively, and Felix frowns. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

“You’re super drunk, baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m worried about you. Here,” he says, bending down and picking up his water bottle. “How about some water?”

Felix shakes his head, and takes another swig of wine just to spite him. “I don’t want water,” he says petulantly. Chan swears the slurring is getting worse by the sentence. “I want wine, and I want you.” Another swig, and then he offers the bottle to Chan. Chan shakes his head. “‘Member how I said I want it all the time, even if I’m drunk?” He takes one of Chan’s hands with his own. “Well, I meant it.” He tries to pull Chan’s hand around his back, down toward his ass. 

“Felix.” Chan tries to pry his hand out Felix’s grasp as gently as he can, but Felix’s grip is surprisingly strong.

“C’mon, daddy,” Felix murmurs. Chan can feel the swell of one of his cheeks on his palm. “Don’t you want me?” He presses one of Chan’s fingers to his entrance, and Chan registers that he’s already loose and wet with lube.

Chan wrangles himself free, trying to ignore Felix’s gasp of pain when he accidentally bends one of his fingers. “This isn’t a good idea, Felix,” he says softly, hoping to gentle the rejection by keeping his tone light. It’s not that he doesn’t want him, he just doesn’t want him like this. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. The heat can’t be helping.” He tries to start walking them in the direction of the house, but Felix refuses to budge.

“No, please, Chan,” Felix whines. “Why not? You fucked me here before, remember?” Chan does remember. He remembers pressing Felix up against one of the statues and smothering his moans with a hand clamped tight over his mouth. There’s no way he couldn’t remember. “Why won’t you do it now?” Felix continues. “Just ‘cause I’m a little drunk? I told you, it’s fine. I’m a slut, I always want it.” He’s practically spitting the words at Chan; his voice has taken on a strange quality that Chan isn’t sure how to interpret. “I need it.”

“Baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m not gonna fuck you right now. Okay? I’m in the middle of working, and you need to drink some water and sober up, or your mum is going to lose her shit. C’mon, let me help you.”

This seems to infuriate Felix. He wrenches himself away, nearly losing balance. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll tell her about us.”

Fear courses through Chan’s body, but he knows immediately he’d rather take that risk than do something he knows is bad for Felix. “I don’t care,” he says softly. “Tell her. This isn’t right, I won’t do it, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk and clearly—upset about something—”

“I’m not upset, the only thing I’m upset about is that you don’t like me anymore,” Felix protests. “Please, Chan. I need it.”

“No, you don’t,” Chan sighs, going up to him and linking their arms together. “And of course I still like you. We’re gonna go inside, okay? And we’re going to get you some water, and find Maya, and she’ll make you something to eat. I’m worried about you, baby, okay? Will you do this for me?”

Felix grumbles incoherently, but complies nonetheless, letting Chan march him out of the gardens. Chan thinks he murmurs a good girl in Felix’s ear; maybe that’s why he keeps walking. Felix takes drinks of his wine as they go, but Chan decides that that is not a battle worth fighting. He’s going to take this small victory and run, because the last thing he needs is for Felix to refuse to come with him again. In any case, he has much bigger problems to contend with at the moment—Felix trips over his own feet every few steps, most of his weight falling on Chan to carry. 

“Chan,” he slurs, giggles. He presses a sloppy kiss to Chan’s neck, nearly toppling both of them in the process. “You’re soooo strong. How come you’re walking so straight?” More giggles, interrupted by a hiccup. “The world is sideways.”

“Just keep moving,” Chan says. “I’ve got you.”

So he lets Felix drink without saying a word as they cross the bridge, the patio, and finally make it to the back door. Chan isn’t quite sure how he gets both of them inside, but he manages that, too, closing and locking the door behind him and letting Felix use him as a support while he kicks off his shoes. They pad clumsily down the hall, Chan veering them towards the kitchen and praying Maya will be there.

She is, thankfully, cleaning up at the breakfast bar and setting out some fruit. Her eyes widen when she sees them, taking in the drunken flush of Felix’s cheeks and Chan’s strained expression, dropping her work and hurrying to meet them.

“What happened?” she asks Chan.

“I don’t know,” Chan says, lies. “I ran into him when I was working in the garden. He’s…” Chan glances at the bottle in Felix’s hand. It’s already half-empty. “I think that’s his second bottle, I don’t know. He’s really drunk, and I didn’t know what to do, so I managed to convince him to come inside to get some water.”

Maya reaches out for Felix, but he just turns his head away. “Thank you, Chan,” she says softly. “Thank you for looking out for him.” Guilt runs through Chan’s veins like ice, but he nods. “He has days like this, but we’ve survived every one. Here, can you get him into a chair? I’ll go grab some water.”

She turns to go, and Chan starts to walk, but Felix groans, hanging his head, and vomits unceremoniously and without warning onto the floor. It spatters against the hardwoods, some of it splashing onto Chan’s socks. Watered down wine, purple-red, and nothing solid. No wonder he’s so fucked up, Chan finds himself thinking as Felix sways, bottle slipping from his fingers.

Chan’s memories of the next few minutes are blurry. He manages to catch the bottle as Felix drops it, saving it from shattering on the floor. Felix continues to throw up, all liquid, coughing and gagging even when it’s all gone, his full weight sagging against Chan’s side. Chan manages to get Felix into a chair; Maya brings him water and some paper towels to clean himself up with. Chan cleans up the mess on the floor while Maya calls for Felix’s parents. Mr. Lee isn’t home, but his mother takes one look and walks out, disgusted. 

Rachael is the one who takes Felix back to his room. Chan sees them get into the elevator, and that’s the last of it, Felix’s pink hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his face, Rachael with her arm wrapped tight around him, eyes stormy. The door closes, and Chan takes soaked paper towels to the trash.

The kitchen is quiet in the aftermath. Maya sighs softly, looking at Chan over the island. “Sorry,” she says. “But if you work here long enough, you see that eventually.”

“Is he… okay?” Chan ventures, just above a whisper.

“It doesn’t happen that often,” she says. “Usually, he’ll have a glass or two once in a while, and it’s fine. But sometimes…” She gestures helplessly around her. “I don’t know. They…” She lowers her voice. “They took him to a doctor once, but they said it wasn’t unusual for a kid his age to overindulge on occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Lee agreed, so they didn’t send him back.”

“What do you think?” Chan asks.

“I think he’s sad,” she says quietly after a moment of hesitation. “More than he lets on, and sometimes this is the only way he knows how to deal with it.”

* * *

The house has a sort of haunted silence to it for the rest of the day. Chan finishes his work quickly and retreats to his room to try and escape it, only leaving to grab something for dinner in the late evening. But the silence is everywhere, hanging heavy in the air, oppressive.

Still, the next morning, it seems things have returned to normal. Rachael leaves for her internship at her usual time. Felix doesn’t come to breakfast.

Chan only sees him after lunch when he’s restocking the patio. He comes down the stairs almost shyly, taking small, calculated steps and sitting down in a lounge chair slowly, like if he moves quietly enough, Chan won’t see him.

“Thank you,” Felix says finally. “For taking care of me yesterday.”

Chan blinks, setting down a water bottle and straightening, hesitating for a moment before walking over to Felix and sitting in the chair next to him. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was the right thing to do. And…” He looks Felix over. He’s a little pale, and there are bags under his eyes, but he looks fine. “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Felix is silent for a few long minutes. Chan waits patiently, looking out over the sparkling water of the pool.

“My parents hate me,” Felix says at last. There’s a finality to his tone that makes his words sink in like dead weight. “They’re disappointed in everything I do. And you know? Sometimes I am too.” He runs his hands through his hair. “They have an idiot for a son, who gets so drunk he throws up on their hardwoods before dinner, and who has no direction in life and no idea what he wants to be. And honestly?” He waits until Chan is looking at him before he continues. “I’d just feel bad for them, except I know that the thing they hate the most about me is that I’m gay, and I dress like—“ He gestures down at himself. He’s in a demure linen dress today, the top three buttons undone and the waist cinched tight. “—like a sissy slut.” The words come out hard as stones, and Chan understands the tone he took in the garden yesterday. It wasn’t his own voice. It was his mother’s, stealing his tongue. “They pretend they’re supportive, because they don’t want to harm my dad’s image, but—I know the truth,” Felix says. “And I’m—I’m not ashamed of it. I know who I am. But I just wish—” He breaks off, presses his lips together, looking through Chan. “I just wish they loved me,” he finishes quietly. 

Chan’s heart twists in his chest. He still doesn’t really understand—where Felix goes, why he acts the way he does, what it is exactly that he’s running from—but he does feel hurt for him. “Felix,” he says softly.

Felix looks back up at him. “You know I wouldn’t have actually told them, right?” he asks seriously.

Chan blinks. “You… remember that?” He kind of assumed Felix had blacked out for most of the afternoon.

Felix nods miserably. “Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s spotty, but… I remember trying to—to get you to fuck me, and then threatening to tell my parents when you wouldn’t. And I just want you to know that I wouldn’t.” He pauses, looking at Chan, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says softly.

“And I’m sorry.” The words sound like they’re being dragged from Felix’s chest. He must not apologize often, so Chan is honestly touched that he’s doing it now. “For—for throwing myself at you, and for saying I’d do that. And for puking on your socks.”

Chan can’t help the laughter that bursts out of him. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to rein it in. At least there’s a ghost of a smile now on Felix’s lips. “Really, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you. Do you know, the reason I don’t drink often is because I had a night like that in college?”

Felix leans in, intrigued. “Really? You?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, happy to be on a lighter topic, happy that Felix is no longer stewing in a world of self-pity. “It was my freshman year, right after finals, and I drank so much I was throwing up I swear for an hour straight. And the worst part is, it started in my friend Minho’s room, and his floor was carpeted.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix laughs. The sound warms Chan.

“Yeah, so don’t feel bad. The cleanup yesterday was really easy,” Chan says. “Your hardwoods have a good sealant on them, don’t worry. Back then, we had to call in the poor cleaning staff, and they kicked my friends out of their room so they could shampoo it…”

* * *

“I’m gonna get lunch,” Felix says, emerging from the pool and wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “You know where to find me.”

Chan nods wordlessly, peeking up at him as he leaves before getting back to work. 

The break is coming to a close. Felix leaves first out of his siblings, going back in just a few days now. Though neither of them say it, Chan can tell they’re both making a more concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. It’s easy in some ways. Since the holidays are over, Mr. and Mrs. Lee spend most of their days out of the house, coming back late. And though all the staff members are back, which makes dodging them hard, at least Chan doesn’t have any extra work to hold him back.

So Chan finishes his work, grabs a quick lunch, and then heads upstairs. Felix is exactly where Chan expected him, curled up at his desk, busy gaming, cute round glasses on and a green Melona popsicle between his lips. 

Felix sees him when he comes in and scrambles to pause his game, pulling off his headphones and grabbing the popsicle out of his mouth. “Hi,” he says, almost breathless. His lips are bright red and glossy from the popsicle. 

“Hi,” Chan replies. He takes his time with the lock, strolling slowly over to Felix and running a hand through his hair. The roots are really starting to grow in, deep, inky black against faded pink. A measure of how long Chan has known him. “Still in your swimsuit,” he says.

“Thought maybe we could shower together,” Felix replies. He holds Chan’s gaze and licks a stripe up his popsicle. 

“Mm, good idea,” Chan agrees, bending over him and finally kissing him. Felix moans softly, his free hand coming up to grip one of Chan’s biceps, tiny fingers pressing into the muscle. His lips are cold and he tastes sweet. Chan licks over his bottom lip, then pushes in past his teeth. He’s sweet everywhere, popsicle coating his tongue.

Felix’s eyes are glazed with pleasure when they break apart. His popsicle is melting in his hand, but he seems unaware of it. Chan grins at him, bending to the side and catches a drop with his tongue. “I’m gonna eat this if you don’t,” he says. Felix just hums, holding it out to him, so Chan does the only logical thing, which is to take the whole thing in his mouth and then pull back off real slow, keeping his cheeks hollowed and his eyes on Felix. 

“You’re just as bad as I am,” Felix says with a dreamy giggle as Chan licks his lips.

“Wasn’t like this before I met you,” Chan says, which is mostly true. He kisses Felix again, pinning him to the chair. “We gonna shower?”

“Mm, yeah,” Felix says, but he keeps kissing Chan, alternating between that and taking licks of his popsicle. Chan knows he’s not helping; he reaches down between Felix’s legs and cups his cock in his palm, groping him through the thin fabric of his tiny swim bottoms. Felix lets out another moan, bucking up into Chan’s hand.

“Should really get in the shower, then,” Chan hums, but he keeps going, running his fingers up and down the length of Felix’s cock until he’s hard. Precome leaks a wet patch into the swim bottoms, the stain spreading as the minutes drip by. Felix swirls what’s left of his popsicle in his mouth, movements slow and lazy, moans muffled. “Should get going before you make a mess in your bikini,” Chan continues. 

“Mm, Chan,” Felix sighs, so pretty. “S-stop touching me, then.”

Chan hums like he’s considering it. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” he asks.

“N-no,” Felix stutters. He pulls the popsicle stick out, clean. “Kiss me.”

Chan obliges, bracing himself with a hand on the headrest of Felix’s chair. Felix pushes his cold tongue into Chan’s mouth, whimpering in the back of his throat as he runs it over Chan’s teeth. It’s messy, but Chan doesn’t care. He’ll happily lick any taste off the surface of Felix’s tongue.

They keep kissing until Felix comes, sticky white soaking through his swim bottoms and getting all over Chan’s hand, moans muffled in Chan’s mouth, popsicle stick dropped and forgotten on the floor. Felix goes limp against the chair when Chan pulls away, sighing softly. “Ohh, I felt that in my toes,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. 

Chan grins, kissing him on the tip of the nose, then reaches around with his clean hand to grab lube and a condom out of the desk drawer. “Okay, definitely shower now,” he says. 

“I can’t move,” Felix complains. “My legs won’t go.”

“You’re such a piece of work,” Chan mutters fondly, readjusting his grip on the lube and then simply scooping Felix out of the chair and carrying him to the bathroom. Felix squeaks in delight, giggling softly as Chan lowers him gently onto the edge of the tub. 

“You’re seriously so strong, Chan,” he says, watching as Chan pokes his head into the shower to start the water. “I bet you could squat me.”

“I could definitely squat you,” Chan agrees. “I could squat two of you.”

“We have a gym,” Felix says, now sounding a little dreamy. “You could probably even bench me.”

“Probably,” Chan says, setting the lube and condom down on the counter and giving him a look. “But I think if someone catches us in the gym together, they’re really gonna start asking questions.”

“Oh, but naked in my bathroom is okay?” Felix asks pointedly as Chan shucks his tank up and over his head. 

“The point of your rooms is people won’t just walk in,” Chan replies. “‘Cause you might be naked. Speaking of which, get moving.”

“Point taken,” Felix chirps, untying the strings of his bikini top and letting it fall to the floor, then stepping out of his soiled bottoms and hooking them over a finger. “Hurry up.” He steps into the shower and disappears behind the steam.

Chan shakes his head, carefully folding his underwear and laying it on top of the stack of the rest of his clothes on the counter. He picks up the lube and condom and heads into the shower.

Felix is waiting under the water, scrubbing at his swim bottoms. “One sec,” he says softly, glancing up when Chan brings in a whoosh of cold air. 

The shelves are out of the way of the spray, so Chan puts the lube and condom on the highest one, holding his hand out for Felix’s swim bottoms so he can hang them on one of the little hooks on the wall when he’s done. 

“Thanks,” Felix says, a genuine, proper show of gratitude. Chan hides his smile, reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn around,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

Felix obeys, and Chan squeezes a dollop of shampoo out onto his palm, capping the bottle with a click and putting it back before rubbing his hands together. He spreads the shampoo on Felix’s wet hair, pressing the pads of his fingertips into Felix’s scalp in a gentle massage, running his fingers through the strands to make sure the soap gets everywhere. 

“Your hair’s so smooth,” Chan finds himself saying. “Even though you’ve dyed it. It’s so soft.”

Chan can hear Felix’s smile even though he can’t see it. “Thanks.” Felix leans into his touch. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, slowing his movements, working his fingers in circles. Felix moans lowly, and Chan’s pretty sure it’s not even sexual. “Good?”

“Yes, daddy,” Felix breathes, and—okay, maybe a little sexual. But he does kind of look like he’s melting a little bit, relaxing under Chan’s hands. 

He remains pliant as Chan washes his hair out for him, and patient when Chan works on his own hair. But the instant the soap is gone, his hands are on Chan’s body, pressing little kisses to his chest and arms. 

“Ready for round two?’” Chan asks needlessly. “Want daddy to fuck you now?”

“Mm-hm,” Felix agrees.

Chan puts the water on super hot and then points the faucet away from them so they don’t drown, but they stay warm. “Up against the wall, then,” he says, nodding to it. Felix goes immediately, pressing himself up against the tile and sticking his cute little ass out. “Jesus, baby,” Chan says before he can stop himself. “You look like a dream.” Felix just smirks at him over his shoulder.

Chan finds the lube, drizzling a little over his fingers as he walks up behind Felix. He kisses his shoulder blade, staying close as he feels around for his entrance and pushes a finger in. Felix moans softly, the sound echoing against the walls. “God, I always forget how big your fingers are,” he says. “Can’t ever make myself feel the way you do.”

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Chan says, pushing in past his middle knuckle and waiting for Felix to relax around him.

“Yeah, but—mm—you won’t be soon,” Felix says. “I mean, I won’t be. I’m gonna fuck my way through all the jocks trying to find someone who can do what you can.”

Chan tamps down the jealousy that flares in his chest. Felix isn’t his. He can fuck whoever he wants. “Good luck with that,” he says. “You’d have better time with artists. They actually have fine motor skills.”

“Mm, that’s a good point,” Felix huffs. “Hyunjin’s always been good with his hands.”

Chan decides he’s not going to ask exactly what Felix means by that. “Besides, I bet most of the athletes’ll only last a couple minutes.”

“I dunno,” Felix says, mischief rich in his voice. “Changbin has great stamina, and my other friend Seungmin is a baseball player, and he does too.”

“You trying to make me jealous?” Chan asks. “Or do you just fuck all your friends?”

“You’re not my friend,” Felix points out. “And I’m fucking you.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that,” Chan says, exhaling laughter.

“You should come visit me,” Felix says. “During a long weekend or something.”

“Your parents are gonna ask questions,” Chan says.

“You’re from here,” Felix argues. “You could just say you’re visiting an old friend.” 

“That’s true,” Chan acquiesces, retaliating by adding a second finger. Felix’s jaw drops open and satisfaction boils hot in Chan’s stomach. “Maybe I will.”

“You better,” Felix says, somehow still sounding all sharp and demanding despite the strain in his voice. “I don’t wanna wait until Easter to fuck you again.”

Chan can agree with that, at the very least. “That’s true, it’s a while to wait. And calling isn’t the same.”

“Mm-mm,” Felix agrees. “Not unless I commission a replica of your hands. Or your cock.”

“I don’t think even that would be enough for you,” Chan says, and Felix giggles.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Can’t help it. I just want you.”

Chan fits a third finger in, pumping them viciously even though it’s tight just so he can watch Felix squirm. “Yeah? Like the way I fuck you?”

“Better than anybody else,” Felix says, and if Chan wasn’t certain he says that to everyone he fucks, he’d probably do something embarrassing. As it is, his dick twitches anyway. He pets over Felix’s prostate, so familiar now with his body that he doesn’t even have to search around for it. Felix shudders, muscles in his back tensing up. “Yeah, right there.”

“Here?” Chan massages over it meanly, pressing kisses to Felix’s spine and listening to him whine.

“Too much, Chan, gonna come again,” he protests, trying and failing to escape the sensation by shifting his hips. “Wanna come on your cock.”

That gets Chan to relent. “Fine,” he says softly. “Almost there.”

He finishes opening Felix up quickly, then pulls his fingers out and runs them under the scalding water for just a second to get them clean enough to open the condom packet without slipping. He rolls it on, adding another pump of lube for good measure, and then positions himself behind Felix.

“Put it in,” Felix demands the instant he hesitates. “I’m ready. And if I’m not, and I bleed, we can wash it all away.”

Chan doesn’t need him to say it again. He pushes past his puckered entrance and slides into the sweet warmth. Felix is tight around him like a vice, and Chan only gets halfway before he has to stop. “Shit,” he murmurs. “A little too impatient.”

“Keep going,” Felix insists. “I can take it.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Chan says, but he does try to push in a little more, anyway. It works, sort of, and slowly, he manages to sink in the rest of the way. Both of them let out deep sighs when he finally bottoms out, pressed close to Felix’s body, so close he’s got Felix’s trapped against the wall.

“Fu-u-uck,” Felix moans. “I’m gonna explode. You feel so big, Chan. I think I can feel you in my tummy, against the wall. Feel like ‘m getting split open.”

Chan isn’t sure about that, but the idea makes him grit out a moan nonetheless. “Guess I should spend less time on prep more often,” he manages. “So tight, baby. Feel nice ’n’ full?”

“God, yeah,” Felix breathes. “Fuck, it’s like I can feel you everywhere.” His fingers catch on the grout between the tiles but slip down the wall all the same. 

“Give you a second before I move,” Chan mumbles. “Don’t wanna do some real damage.”

“Mm, kinda want you to,” Felix whimpers. “Ruin my body, daddy, I want it.”

“Fuck, babygirl,” Chan groans. “Want me to make it hurt?”

“Yes.” The word is a breath sucked in between bared teeth. “Please.”

Chan draws his hips back excruciatingly slow, letting Felix whimper for him for a second before pushing back in, fast and hard. The force of it punches a weak moan out of Felix’s chest. “Like that?” Chan pants, doing it again, legs shaking from the exertion and the delicious drag of his cock against Felix’s walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

Felix only sobs out a moan, the sound garbled by the echoes it makes and his slack jaw. Chan spreads a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the wall and using his other hand to grip his hip so he has nowhere to go. Felix slumps against the tile, pink tongue just visible over his bottom teeth, eyes drooping shut. Chan hears himself grunt, something low in the chest, gravelly, reverberating around them. He slams his hips forward with every stroke, rough and mean like Felix begged for. Every movement sends spikes of arousal dancing under Chan’s skin, almost painful with how good it feels. Felix’s body loosens around him, but even then there’s hardly enough room, and Chan’s pretty sure that if he’d used even one less drop of lube that this wouldn’t be working. 

But it’s what Felix asked for, and as Chan looks at him, he knows he couldn’t stop. Felix’s face is twisted into a beautiful expression of bliss, eyebrows pinched and mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers rest gently against the wall, hardly supporting him. Chan can’t see, but he knows his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, an angry red.

Chan can feel sweat beading on his forehead, partially from the steam, but he can’t reach the faucet dial now. They’re surrounded by a fine mist, and it kind of makes Chan a little dizzy. But he keeps going, fucking Felix ruthlessly, pounding him into the wall with soft groans as his abdomen tightens and tightens.

And then Felix is moaning, a low string of total incoherence, and he curls over himself, convulsing weakly, head disappearing between his shoulders and hands scrabbling at the tile above them. “Daddy, daddy, yes,” Chan thinks he hears him babble as he begins to still.

“Can you last a little longer, babygirl?” Chan asks, his voice rough.

“Yes,” comes Felix’s voice, his head still out of sight. “But daddy, hurts.”

His voice is wobbly, small and pitiful, and Chan knows the face he’s making. He’s sure he’s crying, cute little nose all red and cheeks splotchy. “So good for me, so patient,” Chan soothes breathlessly. He thrusts, shallow, a few more times as the hot pleasure takes over his body at last, making his legs shake. He comes deep inside Felix, hips pressed to his ass, head tipped back and hands with a punishing grip on his waist.

They catch their breath. Chan can hardly hear anything over the soft roar of the water. After a moment, he pulls out, almost stumbling backwards to turn the temperature back to something a little more bearable, rolling the condom off with unsteady hands before going back to check on Felix.

Felix is still bent over at the waist, leaning on the wall for support, forearm braced against the tile and face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Chan looks closer and sees pinkish-red at his entrance. Blood and lube.

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, Felix, I’m so sorry,” Chan stutters, setting the condom gingerly on one of the shelves and hurrying to him. He pets down his back, wondering how painful it would be if he tried to wash him clean. “Didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Felix looks up, dazed. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles.

“You—you’re bleeding,” Chan says helplessly with a vague gesture. 

Felix just smiles, lazy and undisturbed. “I said I wanted it,” he says, tone serene and level. He peels himself off the wall, straightening as he goes, turning and wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders. “Mm, it felt good. So good, Chan, I haven’t come that hard in so long. Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind a little blood.”

“Jesus,” Chan says weakly, catching him and holding him close. “I still feel bad. Let me take care of it, okay? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chan cleans him out tenderly, pressing apologetic kisses to his low back and the swell of his asscheeks. Felix makes little hurt noises, but there’s just as much pleasure in his voice as there is pain, so Chan keeps going until the water runs clear. If Felix liked it—then Chan has to admit it’s a little hot. Still, a sort of prickling guilt settles under his skin. His memory of those moments feels almost blurry. He isn’t quite sure what came over him—just that Felix asked, and Chan, like always, said yes. 

At last, they turn off the water. Chan collects their mess, tossing the used condom and its wrapper in the trash and setting the lube on the counter. He dries both him and Felix off, then pulls on his underwear from before while Felix goes out into his room to find himself something to wear. Chan follows slowly, placing his clothes on Felix’s desk before joining him in bed.

Felix curls into his side, pressing sweet, openmouthed kisses to his chest. “Chan,” he says, soft and dreamy. “Thank you.”

“For nearly sending you to the ER?” Chan asks wearily. 

Felix giggles. “I liked it,” he says. “Felt so good. And you always treat me so nice after.”

Chan kisses the top of his head. “Of course I do,” he murmurs. “Least I can do after taking you apart is to put you back together.”

Felix giggles again, and they lapse into silence. Chan listens to Felix breathe–deep, measured, sated. He glances out the window, stroking Felix’s back absently. The sun is bright on the gardens below, a perfect day, almost unreal.

Finally, Felix speaks. “Chan?” There’s something strange in his voice, quivering and vulnerable. Chan blinks, suddenly curious and afraid all at once.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Do you—?” Felix cuts himself off, his voice wavering still. He’s silent for a few long moments while Chan waits, scarcely breathing. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He can feel Felix’s against his chest.

“What?” he asks, after a minute has passed and Felix still hasn’t said anything.

He can feel Felix deflate, and the tension is gone. When he speaks, his voice is slow and sleepy again. “Do you think you really can come visit me at school?”

Chan lets out a breath. Whatever Felix wanted to say, this isn’t it. But he won’t push. He knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Yeah,” he says softly, brushing some of Felix’s hair back before it falls into his eyes. He looks down at him, this terrible, beautiful boy. He’s not a monster, Chan thinks. He’s not even really spoiled, or at least that’s not why he acts the way he does. He’s just lonely. Maya’s voice plays in his head. He’s just really sad. And Chan still doesn’t know why. But he does know that whether Felix ever tells him or not, he’ll be here. “Of course, I’ll come visit,” he says. “Just say the word. I’ll come.”

Felix makes a happy noise, snuggling closer. Chan tightens his hold on him, feeling his pretty, lithe body under his arms. 

His life, he knows, will be in three parts, now and forever. Before I met you, he thinks. When I had you. And after you leave. How cruel, he thinks, that the most difficult part of the three will also be the longest.