#hopefully 3 days is enough for this :P

[ask-a-chaos-skitarii]

only got 6 followers, but thought it would be smart to ask

(the tag is "#chaos skitarii slaanesh-anigans btw)

in part asking cuz it seems tumblr apparently turns the setting to be shown those off sometimes as it happened to a someone

[deus-ex-mona]

when you’re trying to sleep bUT T H E .

[b-blushes]

MONDAY QUEST is activities lockdown due to i did perhaps go a bit crazy and stupid gardening today and i have to be well enough to go to the dr this week AGAIN sigh. me when the disabilities are disabling. BUT we stay silly, i will feel satisfied working on my journal FOR REAL for real this time. and my prize for putting in an honest try is that i will start decorating my july monthly spread in my planner afterwards.......

[plutotheplum]

I Only Bleed For Him

dragon!sylus x fem!reader

summary: amidst the blooming flowers in tarus city, the dragon claims his beloved.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, a smidge of fluff, angst, kissing, loss of virginity, oral sex, p in v, possessive sex, blood, claiming bites, mating, knotting, soulmates, canon compliant death

wc: 4.5k

a/n: the way the myth cards just keep getting depressing :( there will be another chapter after this fic, but it'll be in the actual timeline! also not very confident in my angst writing abilities, but hopefully y'all enjoy!! <3

also on ao3!

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see. But only for one person.”

Sylus’ voice is a soft murmur, his hands caressing your waist as he holds you tighter against him. Your heart lurches uncomfortably, fingers brushing across his cheek and the hard, black scale that lays fused to his skin.

“What if we stayed here?” you whisper, peering into his crimson eyes.

“Would you be able to sate yourself?” Sylus asks in return, his claws brushing through your hair gently.

You avert your gaze, cheek pressing against his chest as you stare at the swaying carmine flowers in the soft breeze. Sylus’ heart is steady, the soothing sound of thrumming coupled with the motions of his claws nearly enough to lull you to sleep.

His question holds value. Revenge threatens to pull you apart at the seams, the desire for chaos rearing its ugly head. You want more, you always want more and Sylus gives it to you willingly. Your selfish desires will be the downfall of the Fiend, you think, hands tightening into fists. 

Yet, there is so much more to do. So much to take from those that had taken from you. Resentment makes you tremble, the Sacred Judicator’s words ringing clear in your mind. 

The Sorceress has been judged. 

You could laugh at the thought if you weren’t so angry. Some sorceress you were, powerless and yet put before the Court of Justitia as a traitor for trying to protect the statue of a dragon. 

Angry tears prick at your eyes, teeth gritting together only to be drawn out of your wrathful thoughts by the press of Sylus’ lips against your clenched fists, his claws unfurling your clenched fingers.

“Just like the day we met,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze trained on you, “such hatred and defiance.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he kisses your palms.

“Beauty,” he whispers against your skin, “and resentment, little sorceress. They make you my precious, most finest treasure.”

“I don’t want to think about the Legion,” you reply, voice trembling, “I want them gone, Sylus.”

“Pluck them out one by one,” Sylus says, his hand caressing your cheek, “but another will replace those gone. Their roots run deep, weeds that refuse to die, marring the world around them.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the warmth of his hand, the rough scales scratching your skin gently.

“I shall burn Justitia to the ground,” you grit out, eyes burning with determination, “I will make them all regret and spite them into contrition, bring them to their knees and- and-”

Sylus laughs, his expression soft as he peers up at you. “You speak sharply, little sorceress. Your fire and spirit matches my own.”

“Because I am your other half,” you mumble, pouting slightly as you feel your anger subside the more Sylus caresses you. 

“You are,” Sylus affirms, “bearer of my soul, my other half. Only you could be worthy enough.”

A light flush covers your cheeks before you hide again, nosing into his cheek. You can feel the warmth of his soul inside of you as your eyes shut, lungs expanding as you suck in a deep breath, the scent of the dragon clouding your senses.

Burnt embers and a soft sweetness make you whine, body squirming as you try and press yourself closer to him, your fingers caressing his horns.

“Careful,” Sylus grunts, his claws tightening around your waist when he feels the brush of your fingers against the base of his horns.

You can feel the slight jump of his hips, your gaze lifting to find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut.

“Does it hurt?” you ask worriedly, fingers pausing.

“Hardly,” he replies, his eyes opening again, “I am simply… sensitive.”

You hum, head tilting to kiss his cheek as your fingers resume their stroking and caressing. Sylus makes a small noise and you relish in it, peppering kisses here and there, across his cheeks and over the large scales.

A delighted sound escapes you when you hear what you think is something akin to a purr. Sylus’ cheeks tint with a light pink and you smile against his cheek, ears straining to listen again when he rumbles gently, his head tilting as he pushes up into the caress of your hand.

“Like a mountain cat,” you tease, tracing the slope of his nose when he purrs again, feeling his claws twitch against your hips.

“Do not use my gifts against me,” Sylus grouses, despite the pleased rumble of his chest.

“I enjoyed them,” you reply, fingers running through his hair leisurely, “if only we could go back.”

“We will,” Sylus promises, his eyes flickering open, “I shall make sure of it.”

You smile wistfully. Going back to the cavern held more challenges than worth risking. Bitterness makes your smile waver, but you brush the thought away, content to at least be given this moment of reprieve.

“We will,” you repeat after him.

Neither of you mention the emptiness of the promise. The damp coldness of the chapel latches onto you and Sylus is the only one able to make it dissipate, his claws tracing over the curve of your cheek.

You cling to him, nose brushing against his gently.

“I love you.”

Sylus’ chest rumbles in response, his head tilting as he presses his lips to yours. The curl of his tail around you holds you to him, his hands kneading at your hips as you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, both of your souls intertwining and interlocking in the sweet musk of the flower fields. 

You can feel the pull of your soul towards him, how your body yearns for more of him, the tendrils of your very being try to claw through gaps of your ribs and pierce his chest. You’d let him hold you in the glowing stone embedded in his chest if it were possible.

“So this is what it means to love,” Sylus murmurs, his lips brushing over yours with every word he speaks, “perhaps mortals are wiser than I thought.”

You laugh, arms wrapping around his neck when he rolls you both over, your back pressing into the soft grass.

“Only some mortals,” you correct, smiling when his teeth bite onto the tips of your gloves, pulling them free from your hands, rings and all.

Sylus’ skin is warm when you touch him again, truly for the first time. His eyes flutter shut, savouring the sensation of your skin against his before he lowers his head, kissing you again.

“I wish to claim you, my beloved,” he breathes out, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “will you let me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, your own eyes slipping shut, “yes, Sylus.”

Sylus’ tail sways behind him, the pointed tip brushing across the skin of your leg before his claws join the midst, dragging down your thighs gently. You gasp, the unfamiliar sensation making you squirm as he begins to undo your dress.

You help him, sitting up as he pulls it over your head, his claws ripping through the delicate fabric despite his tentativeness. You don’t pay it any mind, cupping his cheeks to pull him down into a slow kiss, feeling his body hover over you, his tail wrapping around your waist.

The sharp spikes dig into your skin, making your body seize with discomfort until the repeated brush of Sylus’ lips over yours soothes away the nervousness.

Your panties are ripped away too, the fabric laying in tatters in Sylus’ palm. He frowns when he stares at his claws, and you reach for his hand, lips pressing against his knuckles gently.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you whisper.

“It should,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze dipping as he stares at you laying bare before him. 

He can see the mark of his fangs in your neck, the subtle scent of your blood setting his senses alight. You belong here, Sylus thinks, his eyes darkening as he sees the rise and fall of your chest, the pebbling of your nipples in the cooling breeze. 

An undying flame blooming amidst a field of lesser flowers. 

If only he could keep you here.  

The flicker of emotion in Sylus’ eyes makes you uncomfortable and you kiss his knuckles again, lips pressing against the hard scales firmly. He sighs, his hand flexing in your grip, his tail drawing you closer as he kisses your forehead.

You can hear his breath hitch when you fumble with his trousers, undoing the various buckles to have him bare before you as you are before him.

“Greedy mortal,” he murmurs, gripping your chin to plant a kiss to your lips.

“You already knew that,” you smile faintly, nipping his lower lip playfully.

Sylus rumbles, his body shifting to remove his clothing. You swallow when you see the heavy hang of his thick cock. The tip glistens and you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to quell the dull ache that has settled inside of you.

“It- it is different from mortal men,” you mumble, head tilting curiously as you stare at the base of his cock.

“I am a dragon,” Sylus supplies drily, his hand wrapping around his cock.

You watch, mesmerised as he pumps his cock with his clawed hand, brows furrowing when you see the slight swell at the base of his cock, above his heavy balls.

“A knot,” he explains, moving his cock to show you the swell of it a little better, a low hiss leaving him when you reach out to touch it hesitantly. “It- hah- it is useful for mating.”

It gives a little under your prodding, wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of it. You try to wrap your fingers around it, but the tips of your fingers hardly touch, Sylus letting out a growl at the sight.

“I want it,” you whisper, blinking up at him, “I- I want you to mate me, and- and I want that.” You point to his knot.

Sylus lets out a hoarse laugh, his clawed hand coming up to caress your cheek. 

“And you shall have it when I claim you. Although…” he pauses for a moment, his expression becoming slightly flustered, “I have never claimed anyone before.”

“Oh,” you flush with him, averting your gaze. “I have never been claimed before.”

Sylus sucks in a sharp breath, his nose nudging against yours gently as he plants a soft kiss to your lips. “My first and my last.”

You have to blink away the tears that begin to brim in your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck tightly. Sylus kisses the side of your head, his body descending further down your body.

Soft noises leave you as he places reverent kisses along the length of your body, his tongue flicking at your nipple experimentally, carmine eyes peering up to watch your reaction carefully. When you gasp, Sylus hums, his mouth opening wider to envelop your breast with his mouth.

Your fingers delve into his soft hair, back arching as you push your breast further into his mouth, his hot saliva making your skin shine. The flowers around you sway, unbothered by the act of intimacy, Sylus’ clawed fingers pinching at your nipple lightly.

He groans when you jerk under him, mouthing at the sides of your breast, pressing wet kisses here and there, tongue swirling over your areolas before granting each nipple a soft kiss.

“You respond well, beloved,” Sylus whispers, beginning to lave over one of your areolas again, seemingly taken with the way you twitch whenever his teeth graze your nipples.

“It- it feels good,” you whine, your thighs sticky with slick.

“Then perhaps I ought to do the same here,” he murmurs thoughtfully, pulling back to pry apart your thighs.

Translucent strings of slick cling to your thighs and the folds of your pussy, Sylus’ head lowering to get a better look.

“So delicate, little sorceress,” he whispers, his claws pulling apart your puffy folds to find your glistening pussy. “A bud,” Sylus continues, the flat of his scaled finger brushing your swollen clit tentatively, “like a flower.”

A needy whimper escapes you, hips bucking up under his exploratory touch. It’s nothing like when you used to touch yourself in the privacy of your small room within the walls of Justitia. Sylus’ touch is rough, textured, heightening the feeling that makes your clit pulse with want.

“Please,” you beg breathily, fingers reaching out to grasp his horns, “please, I- I need more.”

“But I am not yet done,” Sylus replies, peering up at you to watch the expression on your face when he rubs your clit more firmly.

“Sylus!” you whine, “the ache is too much!”

The dragon between your thighs huffs out an amused breath, the hot air making you shiver.

“So demanding,” he sighs, leaning forward to kiss your clit. “Although I do enjoy seeing you so… uninhibited, beloved.” 

You push his head towards your cunt, growing impatient, although being careful not to jostle his horns too much. Sylus groans when he tastes you for the first time, his rough tongue gliding through your wet folds.

A gasp leaves you when he flicks his tongue against your clit, a tremor settling through your bones as you writhe atop the grass. Sylus holds you in place, a pleased purr sounding as he nuzzles deeper into the wetness of your cunt, his tongue lapping and laving over the velvety flesh of your pussy.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut when you feel the dig of his claws into your flesh, coupled with his mouth on your pussy, “S- Sylus, oh yes.”

Sylus hums into your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, collecting your slick into his mouth, drinking it down as if it were the very essence of your soul.

“You taste sweet, my little love,” Sylus rasps, his claws pulling apart your folds so he can prod at your aching hole, feeling the needy clench of it around his tongue when he presses it in. “Sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted.”

“You- nghh- you exaggerate,” you mewl, tugging at his hair gently, your fingers stroking the base of his horns.

Sylus shudders, his head tipping forward into your touch. “I do not,” he growls, nipping at your thigh in a show of disagreement. “I would keep you on my mouth every night if you allowed me and drive you mad with pleasure.”

You smile hazily when you hear his words, hips rolling up to meet his mouth when he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue stroking across the swollen bud lazily.

“Are we not already mad?”

“Perhaps we are,” Sylus responds, his hips grinding into the clothes beneath him. “But I should be glad to be mad with you.”

A soft, content sigh leaves you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his tongue. It swirls through your folds, presses into your cunt every so often whenever Sylus loses interest in your clit for a brief moment.

He never strays far however, his chest rumbling with his own contentedness as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing in your scent. Sylus sucks at your clit with renewed fervor when he feels the tensing of your thighs against his claws.

“I can feel you, little love,” Sylus rasps, his voice low and rumbling. “Come undone on my tongue.” He presses an affectionate kiss to your clit before latching his mouth onto it more firmly.

“Sy- Sylus,” you whimper, legs beginning to jerk as the pleasure grows.

He growls into your pussy, his mouth working faster, tongue swirling and slurping until you have no choice but to cum. You cry out, his name leaving you in disjointed syllables, heavy pants breaking your cries.

Your thighs squeeze around his head, until his tail wraps around one of your legs, pulling you open so he can drink from you until sated. Overstimulation makes you sensitive, whimpers and whines leaving you as you pull at his horns.

“It is too much,” you mewl, “I- I cannot-”

“You can,” Sylus murmurs, spreading you open wider, exposing you completely, “you will for me.”

The dragon devours you again, his fangs sinking deep into the flesh of your thigh. Your blood and slick mixes together and Sylus feels as though he is being torn apart from within, your taste heating his own blood until he can no longer hold back.

You cum again on his tongue, back arching before you writhe violently, fingers grasping for anything and everything, uprooting the flowers nearby as you attempt to gain some semblance of stability.

Sylus gives you some reprieve, his tongue lapping over your puffy pussy gently, his lips pressing against your clit and the mark his teeth have left on your inner thigh.

He rises up to find you limp, unable to stop the shudders that jerk through your body from the immense pleasure.

“Little love?” he murmurs, a claw tapping against your cheek.

A pout makes your lips jut out when you blink up at him blearily, brows furrowing into a glare. Sylus smiles, his head dipping to brush a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You are beautiful,” Sylus says, his hand stroking over your hair soothingly, claws running through your hair.

“I want to do the same,” you whisper, your hand reaching down between your bodies to find his cock. “I want you in my mouth.”

It’s harder than before, pre-cum smeared across the tip, warm globs dripping onto your stomach. You wrap your hand around him, squirming around in an attempt to get onto your knees.

“Another time,” Sylus murmurs, stopping you from getting closer to his cock, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“Now,” you demand, blinking up at him, still a little dazed. “Now, Sylus.”

“Another time,” Sylus repeats firmly, his lips descending upon yours again.

“There- there will be no other time!” you protest, peering up at him desperately, your lower lip trembling.

You only speak the truth, and it angers you. The cruelty of fate has begun to wrap its remorseless fingers around your heart, squeezing and squeezing until you feel your heart give, clenching painfully.

“Never say that!” Sylus snaps suddenly, his hands cupping your cheeks. He presses himself against you, forehead touching yours. “There will-” there’s a tremor in his voice, “there will be another time. Always.”

How many more lies will you both tell yourselves? 

You bite back the sob building in your throat, crushing the sense of helplessness by pulling Sylus closer and pressing your lips against his feverishly. 

The dragon grips you harder, his tail winding around you tightly, holding you to him as he returns your kisses.

“Take me,” you beg when he lays you down again, “Sylus, claim me, please.”

“I will,” he hushes your cries with a kiss, “I will, little love. You will be by my side till the end of time.”

Sylus grasps his cock, breathing heavily, your panting breaths mixing together. He notches his cock against your drenched cunt, pushing in slowly. You both share a moan, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. The scales dig into your skin, his claws digging into your hips deeper, pain flaring across your skin.

It’s enough to distract you from the rampant thoughts of loss however, your mind clouding with every inch of Sylus’ cock that sinks into you.

“So- so tight,” he grunts out, his hips moving slowly.

You can feel his knot, slipping in and out of you, tugging on the edges of your cunt every now and again with how swollen it’s become. His cock splits you open, your soft moans sounding into the vast flower field as you reach up, hugging him to you.

Sylus thinks you sound as sweet as the scent of the blooming flowers.

He lowers his body, his weight almost crushing you but you need this, need him as close as possible to convince yourself that this is happening.

“More,” you whimper, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, “ruin me, take me apart.”

“You- hah-” Sylus’ eyes squeeze shut when he feels the tight clench of your cunt around his cock, “you mustn’t say such things.”

“And yet,” you whimper, dazed eyes finding his, “and yet, oh- I desire- ngh- it desperately.”

“If that is what you wish,” he whispers, kissing your forehead gently.

You moan loudly, the wanton sounds mixing with his low groans and growls when he swirls his hips, cock pressing into you deeper. His heavy balls slap against your ass, both of you uncaring of the lewd sounds as he thrusts his hips in and out of you, cock driving in deep.

Sylus’ knot sinks into place with each deep, rolling thrust he gives you, popping out whenever he draws his hips back. You’re slurring, hardly able to see him properly, clinging to him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He grunts, shifting your legs higher, away from the sharp, spiked scales that line his tails. 

They say the dragon is dangerous, the epitome of sin and yet he cares for you dearly, his lips trailing across your skin with such reverence that makes your body ache.

“You are mine,” Sylus growls, his carmine eyes glowing as he peers down at you. “Every inch of you, half of your soul, it is all mine.”

“Yours!” you hiccup, the pleasure making you feel numb, “always yours!”

Sylus moans deeply, and your hazy eyes catch the frantic sway of his tail behind him, his hips snapping harder and faster, your pussy struggling to accommodate and keep up with the ever-swelling knot at the base of his cock.

The sheer feral nature that seems to take over your dragon has you whining, a sharp scream leaving you when you feel his fangs bite into the still healing wound on your neck.

Blood flows freely from the bite and Sylus growls at the taste, losing his grip before tightening again. His claws prick at your thighs and hips, drawing more blood until it’s smeared across your skin. Your skin is just as red as the flowers in the field.

Your nails rake down his back, feeling driven wild by pain and ecstasy. Your own teeth sink into his shoulder, a soft whimper escaping you.

“Bite,” Sylus rasps, his hand on the back of your head, urging your teeth to sink in deeper, “harder, little love, harder.”

And you do bite. You mewl as you sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his blood wetting your tongue and lips and the taste is intoxicating. Your mind swirls as you feel the harsh thrust of his cock bullying inside of you over and over again, tongue lapping at the marks your teeth have left on his shoulder.

You can taste his blood and you can feel the searing pain and you- this- this is real.

This is real. This is real. This is real.

Your mind chants the affirmation as you tell it to yourself firmly, biting harder into him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Take it, beloved,” Sylus whispers hoarsely, pressing his face back into the crook of your neck, “take my cock and my knot. Let me claim you.”

“W- wait,” you begin to gasp, eyes widening with panic when Sylus manages to bully his cock into your pussy enough, the knot catching finally. 

You squeak, unable to comprehend the feeling of being plugged up so full. It’s entirely too swollen to pop free, your poor pussy fluttering around the thickness of it. Sylus isn’t faring much better, his hips jerking and halting when he feels the clench of your cunt, and how his knot has practically held you both in place.

“Yes,” he snarls, low and throaty, his hips swaying a little to grind his cock into you. “Mine, finally mine, little love.”

The press of his scaled claw against your clit has you screaming again, his name leaving you hoarsely as you cum on his knot. Your orgasm is violent, the tight coil in your lower stomach snapping sharply as you come apart, thighs twitching and body shaking.

Sylus sinks his fangs into your neck again and you cry out, softer this time, holding him to your neck and letting him lap at your blood.

He shudders, the taste of your blood coupled with the feel of your fluttering walls around his knot making his cock jerk and balls clench. Sylus cums with a throaty roar, his claws landing on either side of you as he hunches over.

Pleasure racks through his body whilst hot, thick cum floods your pussy unable to leak out and instead held in place by his throbbing knot. You whimper, mind feeling syrupy when Sylus rumbles and purrs, nuzzling into your breasts and then your cheeks, another hot load of cum spilling into you when his cock kicks at the squeeze of your cunt.

You kiss him clumsily, motions clouded by the haze of intimacy. Sylus sighs into your mouth, stroking your hair gently. You both lay there, surrounded by flowers, panting and unwinding.

His knot deflates after several minutes, softening cock pulling free. His cum spills out of you and Sylus watches with a frown, wishing his cum would stay stuffed inside of you.

Sylus rolls off of you when you tap his shoulder, his tail curling around you to bring to lay atop him. You don’t say anything, face pressing into the crook of his neck.

“Your desires are cruel,” you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“As are yours, little love,” Sylus says softly.

You sniffle, pressing a kiss to the steady beat of his pulse just under his jaw before shifting to kiss the glowing stone embedded in his chest.

Sylus shudders, his claws flexing around your skin. You kiss the stone again, beginning to cry when the stone’s glow begins to dim.

There’s a strange chill that makes your skin crawl, the familiar scent of the chapel invading your lungs.

“No,” you sob, peering up at Sylus, “not yet, please, please!”

Sylus smiles down at you, his expression forlorn. “I love you,” he says quietly, brushing a kiss to your forehead, sitting up to pull you onto his lap.

“I need more time,” you whisper, kissing him despite the growing coldness in the air. “We need more time.”

Hope had made you both fools. Sylus had claimed you in a withering graveyard.

You’re weeping when you ask him the question.

“Will you make the flowers bloom for me, Sylus?”

Your dragon kisses you fiercely.

“Always.”

Sylus’ emboldened oath is the only memory your fingers can latch onto when the dank atmosphere of the chapel awakens you.

The bell of the chapel rings loudly and you sob, scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull Sylus closer. You scream when the Sacred Judicator tears you from Sylus, the pull of his soul tugging violently at your chest. 

A week later, the dragon’s curse rings true. 

You no longer feel the warmth of his soul, for your beloved is dead.

[reidrum]

hypothalamus

note: this is just me reidsplaining neuro i fear. and being horny. sorry? inspired by my real life final that i so bravely studied for without spencer's help </3

summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, fingering, p in v sex, heavy praise kink, neuroscience jargon

wc: 2.3k

apologies in advance if it sounds too sciencey it is unfortunately the side effect of a woman in stem. bunsen burner! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

The dry erase marker crumbs stick to your hand as you angrily erase the whiteboard again, internally groaning as you restart drawing your diagram hopefully correctly this time. It’s not. After another few failed attempts you slump back in your chair and huff out in frustration, too deep in your sulk to hear the front door open.

“Hey I’m home!” Spencer calls out, bending down to remove his shoes.

“In the study.” you grumble out, a surprise he even heard you when he walks in a minute later. His gaze softens as he takes in the scene. Your notes strewn across the table, your whiteboard dark with marker smudges that match the side of your hand in which you used to erase it. The exhaustion clear as day on your face and the hint of defeat in your eyes is enough to draw him closer to you.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” he says softly.

You sniffle, not exactly crying but the stress was bringing you to the brink, “S’nothing, just trying to study and it’s not working. Feel dumb.”

He sighs and rounds the desk, sitting on the edge and reaching for your hands as he looks down at you, “What did I tell you about saying things like that?”

“To not to.” you mumble.

He laughs softly, “Well, yes. But it’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You were just explaining all of this to me yesterday.”

You whine, “I know and it feels like I forgot it already!”

“Maybe you just need to approach it differently,” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Your whiteboard isn’t helping?”

“No,” you sigh, “I keep drawing it wrong and it’s frustrating me.”

The despair in your voice makes his heart ache, and all he wishes is to be able to take it away. Spencer remains deep in thought before something clicks in his mind, you see the shift in him but you’re unable to discern what epiphany he’s reached. His eyes sparkle with mischief as his entire demeanor changes, “I think you might need a different type of visual.”

Your eyes squint in confusion before you realize what he’s getting at, and you can’t help but laugh. “You’re not serious? This is a joke, right?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, “Humor me.”

The laughter dies down on your tongue as you take in and consider the very intentional nature of his words. “How so?”

“You’re studying brain structures right?” you nod, “Okay well, what better way to study than with some active learning?” 

You couldn’t look less convinced. Spencer chuckles, reaching for your hand to switch places with him so he’s seated on the chair. You move forward hesitantly, he holds a hand out to gently pull you closer while using the other hand on your hip guides you onto his lap. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, arms slinking around his neck.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You soften, “Hi. Are you sure this isn’t a ruse to get me in bed?”

“Oh come on, we’ll kill two birds with one stone. A lot of the hypothalamic functions are very important during intercourse,” he trails his fingers up and down your side, “You’ll get to study with a real life application and relieve some of your stress.”

You move your hips slightly, smiling when you feel him harden beneath you at the simple movement, “Alright, I’m game.”

He matches your grin and presses a kiss to the base of your jaw, “Need you to help me with my pants for this to work, baby.”

The soft kiss already sends you into a dizzy fit, nodding mindlessly as you scoot back to allow yourself space to work on undoing his belt and zipper. You aren’t even sure what his plan is, but if it keeps him talking to you like that you’re afraid there might be nothing you won’t do for him. Spencer’s eyes are focused on you while yours are focused at your handiwork, unable to resist slipping a hand in and palming him through his boxers.

“Ah—h baby, not yet.” he hisses at the contact, reluctantly removing your hand, “S’about you remember? We’re studying. So, tell me something about the thalamus.”

“Okay, the thalamus functions as a relay center for both sensory and m—oh—tor functions.” you moan feeling his lips attach to your neck, slowly marking a path down the slope of your nape with chaste kisses.

He looks up at you briefly, smiling smugly, “Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

You clear your throat as he continues his descent towards your shoulder, motioning for you to lift your arms so he can take off the shirt you’re wearing. His lips immediately reattach before he stops in place once more, brown eyes peering up at you knowingly amid your silence.

“R—Right, so there’s a structure called the lateral geniculate nucleus, fuck.” you curse feeling him suckle a hickey into the crease of your neck.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, “And what does it do?”

His lips descend further down, teasing the lace edges on your bra. You yelp as he nips playfully, “It um, it helps send um…visual stimuli to the brain, right?”

A wicked grin spreads on his face, “That is right, smart girl.” His fingers trace the outline of your bra to the back where he expertly unclasps it, letting it fall to the floor. “You keep getting it right, and I’ll reward you each time, yeah?”

You nod hypnotically, eager to please him and seek his rewards. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him latch onto your breast, letting his tongue swirl around the peak of your nipple and feeling it harden under his touch. You tighten your arms around him as he latches onto the other breast, moaning softly as he makes sure to give it the same special attention.

You grind your hips down and he lets out a low groan,  arm tightening around your waist, suspending your movement. “Can’t do that, sweetheart” he strains, “You gotta earn it.”

Another whine leaves your throat, dropping your head to his neck. He really wasn’t making this easy. “Okay, so ask me something else then.”

His nose brushes up the length of your neck before his hands reach for the notes behind you, “Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

Before you get a chance to think about the answer, you’re distracted by his wandering hands again. Only this time, they’re going down towards where you really need him.

“Spence,” you say breathlessly, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure for a moment.

“Nuh uh,” he pauses his ministrations, “Answer first, reward second. I told you the rules, don’t make me repeat it.”

You whimper and Spencer almost folds—almost. But for the sake of your education, and definitely not the way you look perched on his lap, he treks on.

He does feel a little pity and decides to show you a bit of mercy when he motions for you to lift up slightly so he can pull your pajama shorts all the way off.

“That feel better?” he whispers, hot breath fanning your face. You nod hastily. “Okay then. Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

“Um…the anterior nuclei is responsible for—“ your breath hitches as his finger traces the edge of your panties. “Memory, right? Hippocampus.” you rush out.

You feel him smile and nod, “Correct,” his finger hooks onto the fabric and pulls it to the side, the cold air not even hitting you before he swipes through your folds.

Your head drops to his shoulder as you let out a shuddering sigh, peppering kisses up his neck as his fingers provide the much needed attentiveness you needed. He chuckles softly, “Just relax. You’re doing good, pretty girl.”

He helps you remove your underwear, maneuvering you so he can smoothly slide them off your legs. His fingers collect the slick and glides up to circle your clit, grinning when he hears you whine loudly. He continues to move across your pussy before retracting his finger while you let out a soft whimper. You’re about to protest when you see the intention of his removal, watching his hand slip below his boxers to gently pull himself out. He gives himself a few pumps before laying flat against his body, guiding your hips so your cunt is flush with the topside of his dick.

He holds your hips down preventing you from moving, “Hypothalamus?”

The cock drunk state is getting to you and he’s not even inside you yet, “It’s a um…it regulates…stuff.” you trail off, his lips returning to your neck.

He sucks another hickey onto your neck, licking over it and pulling back to gently blow on it. “Not good enough,” he whispers, “Try again.”

You whimper, “Okay—Okay, it sends signals for…sympathetic response—fight or flight” the end of your voice lilting up as he begins to move your hips.

“Keep going.”

The sensation of your cunt sliding up and down his length is enough to send you into delirium, and you’re honestly impressed you’re still able to speak. “It also does,” you take a deep breath for regulation, “It signals appetite and eating…and…”

He slides you forward enough so the tip of his cock is barely breaching your entrance, “One more, pretty girl.”

You rack your brain as you try to force yourself to focus, and not think about the way his tip is stretching your opening, teasing you relentlessly. The answer comes to you in a lightbulb moment, “Intercourse,” you moan, “releases hormones for sex.”

Spencer grins again, “Good girl.”

He lifts your hips a little, and the shift in angle is enough to fully slide himself inside you, the feeling causing you both to moan in tandem. The stretch of his cock inside you splits you apart beautifully, making you feel so full.

You whine his name again as you try to move, getting louder when you realize his hands are still clamped to your side, holding you square in place, “Wanna move, please.”

“Oh baby, you know I love it when you use your manners,” he touts, pressing kisses up your chest, “One more question and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You nod quickly, waiting impatiently for his last question.

“Tell me the two hormones made in the hypothalamus.” he whispers against your skin.

“I know one is antidiuretic hormone…” you breathe out shakily, “But, there’s one more I can’t remember.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” his hands slowly begin to guide you up and down on him, a languished moan leaving your throat. The feeling of him pushing against your cervix is so detrimentally distracting, like all you’re focused on is the pure euphoria your body is chasing. It’s clouding your judgement, your senses. It’s all consuming as the pleasure spreads throughout you.

Wait.

Oh.

Spencer seems to sense that you’ve reached an answer and thrusts up into you, “Ah—Knew you’d get there. What is it, baby?”

You let out a sharp gasp before answering, “Oxytocin.”

He doesn’t give a verbal praise but his face splits into a wide grin, finally loosening the grip on your hips and allowing you full reign to chase your peak. You brace yourself on his shoulders and increase your pace, his hands returning to your sides facilitating your movements.

“Such a smart girl you are, baby,” he coos, “Taking me so well and getting all the answers right?”

“Spence…”

“You’re just so good, angel. My beautiful, intelligent girl,” he continues to praise, feeling you clench around him, “My good girl, isn’t that right?”

Any and every neuronal connection in your brain is fried at this point, melded down to nothing but atoms at the hands of Spencer Reid, clearly reveling in your fucked out state as evidenced by your incoherent babbling. His hands grip your sides tighter and pulls you harder when you sink down, the sound echoing throughout the study.

“ ‘m close,” you mumble as you slump into his shoulder letting him fully takeover. He stills his movements for a second before standing up with his hands under your legs to sit you on the desk in front of you. Your hands detach from his shoulders and hold you up from behind as you lean back and let Spencer pull your body towards him.

He continues to fuck into you, the new position allowing him better control for calculated thrusts and a faster pace. Words don’t exist in your lexicon anymore and you hope he can understand your babbles as you attempt to communicate with him that your orgasm is about to overtake you entirely.

He knows, obviously, because it’s you. He slides a finger down to your clit to further drive you to the edge, leaning down to whisper, “Come for me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

With a high pitched whine you crash into your peak with the full force of your body, vision temporarily going white before returning in splotchy spots. Spencer comes not too far behind you, fucking the last of his come into you before stilling completely.

You both pant heavily as you try to catch your breaths, and Spencer leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. “You alright?”

“I think you fucked me dumb.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Actually, I think I fucked you smart.”

You swat his shoulder lightly and laugh, “That was so bad.”

He smoothes your hair back before gently pulling out, using your discarded shirt to clean you up a bit. His lips press a kiss to forehead, then your nose, both cheeks, before landing on your lips kissing you deeply.

You pull back suddenly, “Wait, I still have like, five more sections to review.”

Spencer’s wicked grin returns. “Well, we better get to work.” He effortlessly picks you up from the desk as you giggle and wrap your legs around him. He reaches the bedroom and delicately tosses you on the bed, looking down as he stands over you at the edge.

 “Gotta make sure you get that A, pretty girl.”

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[cybrasigilism]

Hi!! I’ve been reading a few of your works and I love your writing sm!! I’ve never done a request to a writer before, so I hope I’m not too vague or ambiguous (but I’m thinking what I’m about to ask could be TOO specific 💀), but I wanted to request an NSFW writing of Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) as a sub (and if you can, could you add a thing or two about edging him and/or overstimming him?). Personally, I’d preferably have them written as headcanons BUT whatever works best for you is most important, so I won’t mind whatever you decide to do :)

And if you’re uncomfortable with the request, ofc feel free to ignore! I appreciate it in advance if you do decide to write it, and I do hope you have a lovely day ❤️❤️

you won’t ever catch me turning down a thanos request, not while i live and breathe 😈🙏

TYSM FOR YOUR KIND WORDS BTW!! hopefully i did your vision justice :>

Submissive Headcanons! (Thanos/Choi Su-Bong/Player 230)

warning: smut and all things of the like (if you’re not used to seeing this warning on my page idk what to tell you) | not proofread | lowercase intended | sub!thanos | overstimulation | edging | begging | mommy kink if you squint | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: we as a squid game society need more sub!thanos content, i’m happy to contribute my fair share. idk if this is ooc or not, because honestly i can see this guy being a total switch, but do with that what you will! enjoy :3 (lowkey running out of gifs for these stinkabutts) PS this may not be a read for you if mommy kink stuff makes you uncomfortable! i have many other thanos works that don’t contain that bc i know its not everyone’s cup of tea, i just thought it fit for these specific headcanons

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, readers discretion is advised

  ———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

➤ thanos did not strike you as the submissive type, the absolute 180 that his personality made from the public eye to the bedroom was so drastic you could have gotten whiplash

➤ he will for sure be on his knees for you, both literally and figuratively. this man will do anything you ask of him, just as long as it means he gets to please you.

➤ he’s definitely the type to beg. he’ll give you the puppy dog eyes and go the whole nine yards if you agree to let him between your legs

➤ makes the most whorish sounds when you fuck him, especially when you praise him, even if its the smallest thing. even if you say something as simple as “right there, fuck yeah” he’ll be all over that shit, thanking you for letting him please you like that

➤ speaking of his moans, he gets quite high pitched when you guys get into it. i’m not talking anything crazy, just a lot higher than what you could have been expecting.

➤ some of the things you may expect thanos to say while you guys fuck can include:

“oh god, please keep fucking my cock, just like that”

“am i making you feel good, mommy? yeah?”

will straight up just call you mommy through his whimpers and whines if he’s too far gone

➤ goes crazy when you give him hickeys or bite his neck at any point that you can, whether it be before you guys have even stripped, as your jerking him off or while your actively grinding on his dick, he can’t get enough of it

➤ cries during rough sex, no further questions

➤ needs you to be touching him at all points of the sexual journey, loves when you rest your hands on his shoulders/chest as you ride him

➤ likes getting whipped THAT DAMN WIND AGAIN—

➤ goes ballistic when you pull his hair, the slutty sounds really show up then

➤ acts like he doesn’t like being edged, but he’s a sucker for it.

“fuck please…mommy just let me cum, oh fuck”

“i’ll do anything, i just need it so bad, i wan’ it p-lease”

➤ loves when you restrain him, it can be with anything. handcuffs, rope, your own two hands, ANYTHING

➤ choke him when he’s close, better yet, choke him while you edge him.

➤ he will cry when being overstimulated (trust you guys have a safeword set in place for overstimulating, as can be said for any other experimenting)

➤ loves physical touch during aftercare, it doesn’t have to be straight up cuddling, but just you touching/caressing him in any way at all

———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

thanks so much for reading! as per usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💌

tags: @gongyoosgf @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[simpurnatural]

NSWF ALPHABET || Min Ho Moon Edition

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "I think it's safe to say that we all would like a slice of Min Ho Moon. But hopefully this smutty alphabet helps us cope! Enjoy babe <3"

Warning ⚠️: NSFW, Smut, Cussing, Kinks

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Minho likes to clean you up with a towel and wipes. But definitely prefers a shower if your legs are up to it.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Minho's favorite body part of his own are his hands because they help him explore and please you. Your mouth is his favorite whether he's kissing it, fucking, or hearing whatever explicit noises you make for him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves the feeling of you cumming around his cock and watch as it drips out of your pussy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves riling you up, getting into a heated debate with you. There's something about the way you assert yourself which makes him wish you were more dominate in the bedroom.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

UH HELLO? He's literally considered a playboy. I think it's self-explanatory.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary, even though that sounds pretty basic. But literally whatever position that allows him access to your entire body, especially your tits.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn't necessarily say he's a goofball during sex, but he definitely loves to tease you.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Min Ho shaves down there regularly and considering his love for skin care, I think the carpets do in fact match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He isn't vanilla but will definitely be gentle and soft a majority of the time. But he also has his hot, raunchy, rough days.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Knowing that it gets you going to watch him stroke his dick is really one of the only reasons he does it. Plus, he likes watching you stroke it for him like a good girl.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Min Ho has a praise kink that hasn't fully tapped into because he wants to remain seemingly dominant. He also has a dom kink but would love to see you ride him like a cowgirl. Ooh also a sugar daddy kink, he wants to take of you as much as possible.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom or any bedroom for that matter. Not saying that you guys haven't tried it anywhere else... ;)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Min Ho gets turned on by the sight of you in the clothes he buys for you. Whether that may be dresses, heels, bathing suits, more intimate pieces o_o

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't want anyone else in the bedroom doing the deed with you guys. He also doesn't see a need for toys or any contraptions either.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Okay I know I said that he was a seasoned and experienced man, but he still needs some work on giving. But he loves watching you work on length whilst he sits back and enjoys the scene.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Min Ho can do both, but it definitely depends on his mood. Fast and rough if you've teased him far too much or he's had a bad day. Slow and sensual is when you guys are completely on your own without any distractions.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie. In the car? Yes. In a storage room? Yes. Between classes? Yes.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He doesn't like most experimentation because for him, his body and yours is enough for a brilliant time. But loves to joke about you two getting caught.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He never wants to overexert you nor himself so two rounds max in one go.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys are a no no for Min Ho.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you, especially when in public spaces where neither of each other can fulfill your lustful needs in the moment. He also loves when you tease him, it somehow always catches him off guard.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He won't be shouting from the roof tops, but you'll be hearing some low groans and moans from him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Min Ho is definitely the type of guy to book an air bnb or luxury penthouse for the weekend so you two can playhouse *if you know what I mean...*

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He has decent girth but is lengthier than you may think.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Min Ho being a gentleman is up to it if you're up for it. But if it were completely up to him then ya'll might never leave the bedroom.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'll fall asleep as soon as he knows you're cleaned up and taken care of.

JAN 2025

[cowboybeepboop]

Love your stuff! You are such a good writer!

Could you write something about Scott and reader being in a secret relationship and she's javis little sister and every guy on both teams have been told she's off limits. Reader is more Innocent and sweet so javi is super protective of her Scott and the reader didn't listen and have been seeing each other and at the hotel one night they were making out in the truck and javi catches them and him and Scott get in fight where Tyler and Boone have to break it up. Things are said bw the reader and javi and he storms off. Scott and the reader go to her room and she cleans up his cuts from the fight and they say their first I love yous and decide no matter they are staying together have a romantic night of love making making❤️(maybe since the reader is sweet and innocent she can be a virgin thats up to you)

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Romantic smut, fluff at the end

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: Secret relationship, arguing/fighting, p in v sex (unprotected), shower sex

a/n: The virgin idea is completely up to the reader bc I never clarified. Also I lowkey went off the rails with this one, but hopefully this lives up to your expectations <3 thank you for the request and your compliment 🙏

As Javi’s little sister you’re used to his overprotective antics, starting from the day you began going to school with him. He’s always been very extreme in making sure no one gets their hands on you. Which is infuriating, to say the least.

So once you started chasing storms with him and his team, it truly was no surprise that he made sure to make it known that you were strictly off limits. But unfortunately for him, you caught the eye of his extremely tall, handsome, and romantic friend.

Scott isn’t as big of a dick as he pretends to be, which you found out after running into him at your brother's place a couple months ago. Scott had caught you coming back from the bar alone and walked you to your room. He made sure you got inside okay, he helped you change clothes, get into bed, and then even stayed until you fell asleep because you didn’t want to be alone.

He’s a total sweetheart, but you’re the only one to see that side of him. That fact is what drives you closer to him. I mean being the only person to get his princess treatment, that's enough to make you crazy for him. You’ve been secretly dating him for the past couple months since you met each other.

A soft knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts as you begrudgingly slip out of your warm bed. Opening the door you see your older brother and audibly sigh. “Javi, it's too early.” You whine.

Scott stands behind Javi and smirks, he crosses his arms and leans against one side of the doorframe. He chuckles when he hears your whining, he always did get a kick out of how cute you are when you’re half asleep. Scott looks you up and down for a moment, letting Javi speak first though.

“Come on we need to head out soon,” Javi gives you a cheesy smile while your eyes drift to the man behind your brother, your secret boyfriend. Your body straightens as his presence wakes you up instantly.

“Right okay, give me a minute.” You quickly slam the door in their faces as a blush creeps up your cheeks. Scott was the last person you expected to see, especially while looking like this.

You quickly throw on a pair of jean shorts, a little shorter than necessary, and a pink baby tee. Brushing your hair as you check your appearance in the mirror. You put on a little bit of red lipgloss and mascara, hoping that your outfit will catch the attention of Scott and finally lead to something more than a few heated kisses.

When you open the door both Scott and Javi are still standing in the hall in front of your room. Scott’s eyes widen when he sees you come out of your room, his heart rate picks up at the sight of your exposed skin. Javi on the other hand, rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the outfit you’ve picked.

“Are you really going to wear *that* today?” Javi says with a hint of disgust in his voice. Scott, on the other hand, is struggling to keep his eyes from wandering over your body.

“Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?” You cross your arms over your chest as your brother hands you his flannel.

“Cover up, Y/N.” Javi’s voice is firm as he clenches his jaw, stepping between you and Scott. You roll your eyes as you slip the red shirt on annoyed at his antics.

Scott can’t help but stare as you slip on Javi’s flannel, he can literally feel himself drooling while he watches you do up the buttons, covering up your baby tee and short shorts that he was enjoying a minute ago. “Jesus…” he mumbles under his breath as he tries to snap himself out of it.

“Whatever Javi, are you gonna force me to wear pants too?” You slam your door shut and lock it before he can agree to your suggestion. Walking past the two men as you head down the stairs.

Javi rolls his eyes once again at your stubbornness and follows after you down the stairs. Scott stands still for a moment as he watches the way your hips sway with each step. He sighs before slowly following after Javi and you, his eyes not leaving his view of your backside.

“It’s too hot to be fully covered.” You murmur to your brother with a soft glare, “I don’t see why you have to insist on me covering up all the time. I’m an adult you know.”

“I don’t care, I know how men think, the less skin they see the less they’ll think of you.” Javi snaps back as he follows you out of the motel and towards the parking lot. Scott watches from behind you both, not saying anything but secretly agreeing with Javi in his head.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not riding with you today. I’d rather go with Scott. Or anyone else.” Your words are slightly more venomous than intended but it’s just because you’re irritated with his attitude.

Scott smiles at your comment, Javi however, is not happy about the fact that you chose Scott over him, groans as you brush past him. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” Javi mutters irritably.

Scott walks over to the passenger side door and opens it for you with a soft smile. You slide into the seat, excited to spend some more alone time with him. Javi shakes his head as he walks off toward his truck, clearly annoyed with you.

Scott shuts your door behind you and strides around to the driver’s side, still with a smile on his face. He gets in and starts it up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you defy your brother like that before.” He says with a chuckle, “I’ve never seen him so pissed off either.”

You glance over at Scott, your expression softening. “It’s about time I tell him the truth, he’s so frustrating sometimes.” With a sigh, you buckle up. “Plus it means we can spend the day together you know,” you smile at him while beginning to unbutton the flannel.

When you unbutton the flannel, Scott’s heart immediately skips a beat, his mind going back to the previous sight of your baby tee and denim shorts. “You better stop before you get us in an accident,” he mutters through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes on the road even though it’s extremely hard not to just stare at you.

A blush paints your cheeks as your hands fall from the shirt. “What do you mean?” You say softly with widened eyes.

He lets out a little laugh, “You’re going to give me a heart attack sweetheart. Wearing those damn shorts and then unbuttoning the flannel right next to me? I swear you’re trying to kill me.” Scott gives you a quick glance, his eyes wandering over the shorts that were still exposed.

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” biting down on your lip, “I tried to dress so I’d catch your eyes.” You murmur, letting your gaze wander out the window.

A low growl leaves his throat, his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter as you mention dressing up for him. “Jesus Y/N, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” He says with a hint of irritation and lust in his voice.

Reaching over you move your hand over his, “I didn’t think it would work this well,” you giggle softly as your fingers interlock together.

A small shiver courses throughout his body before he shakes it off. He lets out a breathless chuckle, “Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how badly I want to pull over right now.” He lifts his hand up that you’re holding and kisses your knuckles.

Your face reddens with the implication of his words and the warm feeling of his lips against your skin. “I’m sure Javi would have something to say if you did,”

“Please do not mention your brother right now, his name is a total mood killer,” he says with a smirk as he brings your hand into his lap, his thumb gently stroking the back of it as he drives.

—————

After chasing the storm and getting all of the intended data you find your way back at your brother's side. The group is bustling with conversation as everyone discusses the data they collected so far. Scott, however, has a one track mind, and it centers around you.

Watching as you talk to the others, he can’t help but stare at you. He’s always been the most observant man, but right now, he wants nothing more than to take you away from the others and keep you to himself. Your eyes flick over to Scott as you give him a sweet smile.

Scott returns your smile with his own smirk, he watches as you turn your attention back to the data reports you and everyone else collected.

He then slowly crosses over to you, standing close behind you as he listens in to your conversation. You intentionally take a step back, pressing your body against him softly.

Scott tenses when you press yourself directly against him, a small gasp leaving his mouth before he has a chance to hold it in. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, the feeling of your body against him has his mind going a mile a minute.

“Okay guys why don’t we head back to the motel? We can review the data some more later.” Your brother's voice breaks up the chatter.

Hearing Javi’s voice, Scott snaps out of his daze. He clears his throat before glancing over at him, watching his expression as he looks from you to Scott and then back to you.

You give your brother an innocent smile before walking back toward Scott’s van. Javi narrows his eyes as he watches you walk with Scott back to his van, his lips pulling into a tight line. He can’t explain it, but the way Scott is acting with you is making Javi’s skin crawl.

Scott tries not to walk too quickly, but he’s honestly just trying to get you away from the others. He opens the passenger side door for you, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You smile up at him as you buckle the seatbelt.

For a brief moment, Scott’s gaze flicks down to your lap, his eyes lingering on your smooth legs before going back up to your face. A lump forms in his throat as he shuts your door, his mind wandering with thoughts of what he wants to do to you.

He quickly walks around to the driver’s side and gets into the van, letting out a huff of air and muttering, “Jesus Christ, this is torturous.”

“Torturous?” You question while glancing over to him, a confused expression finding its way on your face. Scott starts the van up, the low hum of the engine filling the awkward silence for a moment.

“It’s torturous to be so close to you,” he says with a slight growl in his voice, “and not be able to put my hands on you the way I want to.”

Reaching over you grab his hand, guiding it to your thighs as he follows the rest of the team's trucks. “You *can* touch me Scott.” Your voice is quiet as you flush once again.

A guttural groan escapes his throat when you guide his hand to your thighs. His heart rate picks up as you give him permission to touch you in the way he had been craving for months.

Scott’s hand grips the soft flesh of your thigh, his fingers digging in just slightly. He feels your smooth skin against his rough hand, his palm heating with every inch of contact.

You lean back in your seat, moaning softly at his calloused touch. Scott’s breathing becomes heavier as he hears the quiet moan you let out. He squeezes your thigh in response, his hand slowly inching higher and higher.

“Sweetheart, the things I want to do to you right now,” he says with an almost pleading tone in his voice, “You have no idea how much you’re killing me.” You grasp onto his arm softly.

After Scott is finally able to pull his hand away, he grips the steering wheel tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white. He takes several deep breaths, trying to regain his composure.

Scott takes a glance over at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, the way you’re looking at him. It takes everything he has to not pull the van over and have his way with you

“Scott? What’s wrong?” You look at him with a slight pout, unhappy with the lack of his touch. Scott lets out a shaky breath as he parks the van and shuts it off. He shakes his head, trying to get his mind back in the right place.

He looks over at you, your pout making his chest ache with desire, “Please sweetheart, don’t look at me like that right now,” he groans with desperation in his voice, “I’m trying my best to take things slowly with you, but your making it incredibly difficult.”

The rest of the team heads toward the motel as you and Scott stay put in the van. Unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning closer to him you sigh out “Scott… who said we have to take things slow?”

When you unbuckle your seatbelt, he can’t help but tighten his grip on the steering wheel again, his muscles going rigid at your words. He looks at you with eyes darkened with lust as your face inches closer to his, but he stays in his seat.

“I-“ Scott’s voice is low and hoarse, he swallows hard. “I don’t want to rush into things with you, I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for,” he groans softly.

“Scott,” you let out a breathless sigh as you pull him by his collar pressing his lips to yours. All the willpower Scott has left snaps at the feeling of your lips on his. He groans into the kiss, his hand instantly going to the back of your head, holding you close.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and into your mouth. “F-fuck…” he mutters between kisses. Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek as you lean into him.

Scott’s head spins with the taste of you, you’re so sweet it’s almost overwhelming. He slowly moves his hand to the nape of your neck, his fingers gripping your hair and pulling you even closer. He lets out a low moan of your name as he kisses you desperately, needing more of you.

Before you can go any further, Scott is ripped out of the van and slammed into the ground. Your eyes widen as you see the fury in your brother's expression. “Javi?” You mutter, rushing out the vehicle you try to stop your brother.

Scott lands on the ground with a heavy impact and is met with Javi’s furious face looking down at him. Every ounce of Scott’s being wants to beat the shit out of Javi right now, but instead he stays put as you rush to get in between them.

Scott gets up with a grunt, spitting a little blood from his mouth “What the hell Javi?”

“Y/N, move.” Your brother's voice is cold as he rolls up his sleeves. “I told you to stay the fuck away from her and you couldn’t listen.” Your feet stay planted on the ground.

When Javi tells you to move, Scott’s eyes instantly land on you. He can see the determination in your face to stay between them.

His hands ball up into fists at the sight of Javi moving closer towards him. “She’s a goddamn adult, she can make her own decisions and I’m not letting her brother boss her around,” Scott says with an equal amount of coldness in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter what *you* think she’s my baby sister.” Your brother pulls you back despite your resistance and throws a punch to Scott’s jaw.

Scott’s jaw snaps to the side with the force of the punch. He winces at the pain, but turns his head back and looks up at Javi through a split lip.

His mind is a million miles a minute, a part of him wants to fight Javi, to put him in his place. But the other part of him is worried for you. “Stop Javi,” he grunts out, “this isn’t about what I think or don’t think, Y/N is old enough to choose who she wants.” Scott swallows. “And she wants me.”

His words fill your brother with more rage as he stalks forward, not letting up on his stance. You try to hold your brother back by his waist.

“Javi stop it, please.” You try to plead with him but he just tells you to stay out of it, peeling your arms away from him.

Scott doesn’t want to fight Javi, but he can’t just sit and let him attack him either. He throws punches at Javi, landing a few in his gut and in his face, bloodying his nose. Every punch he throws is filled with a mixture of anger and worry.

“Stop Javi, this is insanity!” he mutters between clenched teeth. Tyler and Boone come over with confused expressions as they separate the two.

“Javi? What’s going on here?” Tyler questions as they successfully separate the two. Scott glares at Javi through the blood on his face, breathing hard from the fight. When he sees Tyler and Boone, his eyes flicker over to you, checking to make sure you’re okay.

Javi has bloody knuckles and a swollen lip. He points at Scott with his bloodied hand. “He was disrespecting my sister,” he growls out.

“He wasn’t disrespecting me Javi!” You step in front of your brother, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re acting like a child. I’m allowed to make my own choices.” Your voice is harsh.

Javi’s expression hardens as you speak, standing at his full height and towering over you as you step in front. He scoffs at you as you tell him you can make your own choices.

“I’m trying to protect you! He’s only going to break your heart. He’s not good enough for you,” he practically snarls at you.

“I don’t need your protection.” Your eyes narrow, “Javi I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me anymore.”

Javi’s expression darkens as you say you can take care of yourself. He shakes his head, letting out a scoff. “Why are you so hellbent on defying me all of a sudden?” He glares at you. “Do you seriously think I’m going to just stand by and let him break your goddamn heart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh as Boone and Tyler release the two other men, noticing their less aggressive demeanors. “Javi just stop it, please.” your eyes soften as you look at him.

Javi’s expression softens as you look at him with pleading eyes, his shoulders drooping at the sight of your look.

“Fine.” He mutters before walking past you, “But I’m only backing off because you asked…” He storms off to his motel room and shuts the door behind him.

You let out an exhausted sigh as you thank Tyler and Boone, apologizing for your brother's outburst. They both assure you that it’s okay and understand that your brother is just looking to protect you in his own way.

Scott stands off to the side, watching the whole time and trying not to interfere. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his lip and chin. Everything is quiet for a moment before he speaks up. “Sweetheart..”

You turn to him with worried eyes, “Are you okay?” your tone is soft as you brush a hand over his bruised cheek.

Scott’s expression softens at your question. He lets out a small sigh and reaches up to gently grasp the hand you’re using to touch his cheek. Scott leans into your touch, his eyes studying your face.

“I’m fine,” he replies in a quiet voice, “I just can’t stand seeing you caught in the middle like this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to him being so hot headed.” You murmur softly. “Come, let’s go to my room. I’ll clean you up.” teeth clamping down on your lip as you gaze up at him.

Scott nods silently, a small smirk forming on his cut lips. He reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining his calloused fingers with yours as you lead him to your motel room.

“You sure your brother won’t kill me when we go in there?” he teases, referencing the earlier fight. You roll your eyes playfully while pulling him behind you.

“Just forget about him Scott,” you unlock the door leading him inside. Scott lets out a quiet chuckle as he follows you into the room. He runs a hand through this messy hair as he stands by the bed, suddenly realizing how disheveled he must look. The blood on his face is starting to dry and the bruise on his jaw is starting to purple.

Grabbing your first aid kit you turn back to him pressing a hand to his chest as you push him down onto the edge of your bed.

Scott can’t help but let out a soft gasp as you push him back onto the bed. He looks up at you, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing in his chest.

“You going to play nurse for me, sweetheart?” He teases. You brush an alcohol wipe over his lip, cleaning up the blood.

“Mhm,” your eyes focus on his wounds, “after all I’m the reason you got beat up.” Your touch is gentle as you slip between his legs to get a closer look.

Scott’s hands rest on your hips as you clean the blood from his face. He watches the expression on your face as you tend to his wounds.

He can’t help but notice how beautiful you are as you focus on him, your face so close he can almost feel your breath on his skin.

“You’re the reason I got beat up?” He mutters with a slight smirk, “Not really. Pretty sure that’s your pain in the ass brother’s fault.” You sigh quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect him to see us…” your voice trails off as you cup his face.

Scott leans into your touch, nuzzling against your palm as you cup his face. He looks up at you with the same gentle look and sighs.

“Your brother knows how to pack a punch, I’ll give him that, but don’t be sorry sweetheart.” He mutters, speaking softly.

Scott’s heart stutters in his chest at your soft voice and the way you’re looking at him. He swallows hard, his heart aching with the words he wants to say in reply. “Y/N, I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his sudden confession, “I love you too, Scott,” you practically whisper in response.

The words you speak make Scott’s chest tight with elation. He couldn’t fight the way his lips turn up into a soft smile, eyes watching your face intently.

Scott reaches up to cup your face in his large, calloused hand. His fingers brush against your skin as they slip into your hair. “Say it again.” He mutters.

“I love you.” You slip onto his lap, your arms moving to his neck as you press a delicate kiss to his bruised lips. Scott’s arms instantly wrap around your waist as you settle on his lap, pulling you as close as possible. He lets out a soft moan against your lips as you kiss him, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The feeling of you on his lap ignites a fire in his chest. As you kiss him, he groans against your lips, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against him.

He nips at your lower lip and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You pull away from his lips, gasping for air as you whisper into his ear. “Scott.. I want you,”

You feel Scott shudder slightly as the breath of your whisper caresses his ear. He lets out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening.

"What are you trying to do to me, sweetheart? Are you purposely trying to drive me mad?"

Scott moves his attention to the sensitive skin of your neck, placing soft kisses and nips along the skin there. You moan desperately as your hips move against his.

“Scott please,” you gasp softly as he flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours.

The sound of you moaning his name is almost too much for Scott to handle. His heart thumps in his chest as his body presses yours against the bed. He gazes down at you as he hovers above you. Scott can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly as you breathe.

He lets out a low growl as he grinds his hips against yours. “Please what, sweetheart?” he mutters, his lips millimeters from yours.

“Please..” your eyes squeeze in embarrassment as you groan out, “touch me, anywhere, everywhere, please.”

All the air leaves Scott's lungs as you say those words. His eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of you lying beneath him, breathless and begging for him to touch you. Scott's body feels like it's on fire, he's burning from the inside out, and knowing he's the one who's made you like this only sends him further into a frenzy.

He leans down and presses his lips against your neck. “You have to be more specific,” he whispers against your skin. “Where do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?”

You bury your face into his neck, “Scott, don’t make me say it…” you sigh, your body trembling slightly against his.

"It's okay, baby," he whispers, his voice as tender as a lover's caress. "I'll take it slow, just show me where you want me to touch." His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, his touch feather-light as he starts to peel it up, revealing your smooth stomach.

You gasp, your body arching slightly as he presses a gentle kiss to the soft skin just above your navel. His eyes never leave yours, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. He's determined to make this moment perfect for you, to cherish every inch of your body like it's the first and last time he'll ever touch you.

With trembling hands, you grasp Scott's wrist and guide his hand down the length of your body, until it rests at the apex of your thighs. His eyes widen with understanding, and you nod shyly, silently begging him to touch you there. His fingers trace the fabric of your shorts, feeling the heat and dampness emanating from you.

His eyes never leave yours as he gently presses against the seam, eliciting a whimper from your parted lips. The warmth of his palm sends waves of pleasure through you, and you squirm beneath his touch, desperate for more. Scott's eyes darken with desire as he slowly begins to rub the spot that's driving you wild, his thumb making delicate circles that have you biting down on your bottom lip to stifle the moans escaping your throat.

His touch is electric, sending jolts of pleasure to every corner of your body, and you can't help but arch into his hand, silently urging him to continue his sweet torment. Scott's eyes remain locked with yours as he slowly pulls your shirt over your head, his gaze lingering on the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath you take. He takes his time, his calloused hands moving with surprising gentleness as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You watch him, your heart racing as you feel his breath against your skin, his hands roaming over you with a mix of reverence and hunger. He leans down to kiss you again, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. With trembling fingers, he traces the edge of your panties before his hand settles back between your legs, his touch setting your nerves alight.

You gasp as he gently presses against your dampness, his thumb making slow circles around your clit. The room seems to spin as the intensity of his touch grows, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for more. His mouth finds yours again, the kiss deepening as his hand works its magic, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling towards the edge of pleasure.

"Scott, please," you whimper into his mouth, your hips bucking against his hand. "I need you inside me." Your voice is shaky with desire, your eyes pleading with him to take the final step. His own passion flares up at your words, his eyes darkening even further. He leans back slightly, his hand moving away from your underwear, making you whine in protest.

But he only does it to pull off his shirt, revealing his broad, muscular chest, marred slightly by the bruises from the fight. He reaches down to his belt, his movements jerky with need. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. You nod fervently, unable to form coherent words. He smiles, a smug look crossing his face as he undoes his pants, his erection straining against the fabric.

He pulls his boxers down just enough to free himself, his cock standing tall and proud. You bite your lip, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him. He reaches down to touch you again, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your panties, and you arch into his touch, desperate for more. He groans against your neck, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply.

His other hand hooks into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down in one swift motion. You're fully exposed to him now, and the vulnerability makes your cheeks flush even redder. But Scott's eyes are full of love and want, and you feel safe, cherished. He kisses you once more, then pulls away, his gaze dropping to your bare skin.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice full of awe. "And all mine." With that, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes in, inch by torturous inch, carefully filling you completely. You cry out, your nails digging into his back as he starts to move, his hips setting a slow, steady rhythm that has you seeing stars.

Each thrust is heaven, his body moving in sync with yours as if you were made to fit together. Scott kisses along your neck as he moves his hand down to cup your cheek, holding you in place as he takes you in. His eyes never leave yours, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but all he sees is the love and desire reflected back at him. His cock stretches and fills you completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He’s so careful, so tender, as if he’s afraid he might break you. His movements are slow and deliberate, each one designed to bring you closer to the edge without pushing you over it too soon. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back, trying to keep control.

But it’s not just his body that’s on the edge—it’s his heart too. He’s never felt this way before, never been this in love, and he’s afraid of losing you. So he takes his time, savoring every second, every gasp, every shiver that runs through your body as he makes love to you.

As he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, you know that this isn’t just a fling or a fleeting moment—this is something real, something that’s going to last. And for now, all that matters is the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath in your ear, and the love that’s growing between you with every beat of your heart.

Scott's eyes darken with need as he watches you come apart beneath him, feeling your inner walls tighten around him. He can't hold back anymore. His strokes become more erratic, more desperate, as he chases his own climax. His teeth clench and his hips piston into you as he whispers your name against your skin, his whole body taut with tension.

You're so close, so incredibly close, and the sight of you like this, lost in pleasure, is almost too much for him to handle. He feels your orgasm building, the way your breath catches and your body tenses, and he knows he's not far behind. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself inside you, groaning your name as he fills you completely.

The world fades away as you both ride the waves of pleasure, lost in the intimacy of the moment. For a brief second, there's nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the feeling of his warmth spilling into you.

With a final, lingering kiss, Scott gently pulls out of you and scoops you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling boneless and utterly satisfied as he carries you into the bathroom. The cool air of the room contrasts with the heat still radiating from your bodies.

He sets you down on the edge of the bathtub, the sound of the water filling the small space. He then carefully picks you up again and steps into the shower, holding you tight against his chest as the water cascades over the both of you. The warm water mixes with the sweat on your skin, washing away the evidence of your passionate encounter.

With a sudden surge of desire, you pull Scott closer to you, deepening the kiss as you crave more of his touch. Your hands roam over his slick, soapy back, feeling the contours of his muscles and the warmth of his skin. His own hands move to cup your breasts, kneading gently as the water rains down on you both. The steam in the shower envelops you like a warm embrace, amplifying the sensations as your bodies press against one another.

Scott's kisses become more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours as the warm water runs down your faces. You moan into his mouth, feeling a renewed energy as your passion reignites. He lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist, and you can feel his hardness against you. The slickness of the soap makes it easy for you to slide against him, teasing and tempting.

Your breath hitches as he breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes with a fiery gaze that speaks volumes of his love and need for you. "I can't get enough of you, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You whimper as Scott enters you once more, his movements measured and precise. The cold tiles of the shower wall press against your back, sending a shiver down your spine that only adds to the exquisite sensation of him filling you completely. Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him deeper as he starts to move, his hips rocking into yours in a steady, rhythmic motion.

The warm water falling over your bodies mingles with the heat of your passion, creating a steamy cocoon around the two of you. His hands move to your hips, holding you in place as he picks up the pace, his eyes never leaving yours. The love and intensity in his gaze only serve to fuel your desire as you begin to move with him, your bodies in perfect harmony.

Each stroke sends a bolt of pleasure through you, and you can feel yourself inching closer to the brink of ecstasy once more. Your breath comes in short gasps as you lean into him, your mouth finding his in a desperate kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, mimicking the motion of his hips as they drive into you, over and over again.

The water runs in rivulets down your skin, mixing with the slickness of your arousal, creating a symphony of sensations that threaten to overwhelm you. As he deepens the kiss, you can feel his love, his need, his everything, all wrapped up in the tender way he holds you, the possessive way he claims you with every thrust.

Your moans become louder, echoing off the tiles as the pressure builds within you, your orgasm looming just out of reach. And when he finally brings you to the edge, you let go, moaning his name as you shatter in his arms, the warmth of his love surrounding you like the water that drenches your bodies.

Scott’s body tenses, and with a final, powerful surge, he cums into you, his head resting on the tiles next to your neck. The warmth of his release fills you, and his breaths come out in heavy pants against your skin. You hold onto him tightly, feeling the tremors of his climax as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. His arms wrap around you, supporting your weight as your legs slowly unravel from around his waist.

The water from the showerhead runs down your bodies, mixing with the passion that lingers in the air.

Scott's hands are gentle as he helps you clean, his touch tender as he runs a washcloth over your body, removing the stickiness that lingers from your love making. His eyes are filled with a soft adoration that makes your heart flutter in your chest. As the water rinses away the soap, he kisses you again.

The quiet of the bathroom wraps around you, leaving only the sound of your breaths and the occasional drip of water as you stand there, lost in each other's embrace.

The tempest of emotions inside of you only grows stronger as you realize how deeply you've fallen for him. The way he looks at you, the way he touches you, it's all so real, so raw, and so beautifully overwhelming. You can't imagine ever wanting to leave this moment, this cocoon of love and passion that you've created together.

Scott reaches for a towel, wrapping it around you with the same care he's shown since the moment he first touched you. His eyes are filled with a softness that makes your heart swell, and as he dries your skin, you can feel his love in every stroke. His touch is gentle, his gaze lingering on every part of you as if he's memorizing every curve and freckle.

You stand there, soaking in the warmth of the towel and his affection, feeling cherished and desired. The motel room outside the bathroom is forgotten, and it's just the two of you, in this intimate space, sharing something so profound that it feels as if nothing else in the world matters. Each time he wipes away the water, it's like he's also wiping away the stress and the worries that have clung to you, leaving you feeling lighter, cleaner, and more alive than you've ever been.

His hands move over your skin with a tenderness that makes you shiver, he takes his time, ensuring that every inch of you is cared for. When he's done, he wraps the towel around your body and pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he's afraid to let you go. His heart beats against your chest, a steady rhythm that matches the beat of your own heart, reminding you that you're not alone in this, that he's there with you, loving you with everything he has.

And in that moment, you know that no matter what Javi or anyone else might say, you've made the right choice in giving your heart to Scott. You lead him back into the room laying down on the bed with exhaustion.

He lays next to you, pulling you onto his chest. As you lie in Scott’s arms, you feel his hand gently caressing your bare back. The motel room is quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioning mixed with the soft sounds of your breathing. Scott’s thumb rubs small, soothing circles along your spine, the touch both comforting and sensual. You can feel the firmness of his chest against your cheek, the steady rise and fall of his breath syncing with your own.

The silence is comfortable, a testament to the bond that has grown between you two. You feel safe, cared for, and loved.

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 

“Can we do that?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 

[mrsfudd]

Behind your back-final part

warnings: fighting, cursing

not proofread lmao

It had been 3 weeks since your big fallout with Paige and KK. Paige had been icing you out which was expected. You guys have had fights before obviously, just not to this extent. You’re still her baby sister and you’ve been hoping she can swallow her pride and forgive you. With KK though it was different. She didn’t owe you anything and you knew it was going to take something big to win her over…hopefully.

“Girl, you skipped your morning class again?” Chloe asked.

Your roommate Chloe has been helping you process the whole thing. Your friends back home could only help so much, they could barely understand the full story. For that reason Chloe has really been your backbone.

“KK has a class in the hall right next to time, the last time I saw her I wanted to die I felt so bad.” You said laying on the couch.

“Y/N, you cant hide forever. You’re too grown to be acting like this. Grow up and do the right thing.” Chloe said with a tone that only comes out ever so often.

“I don’t know chlo, I know she doesn’t wanna hear from me and Im not gonna make the situation worse” You say.

“So, talk to someone who might.” Chloe said while tossing your phone on your stomach.

You haven’t talked to Paige in a few days, when you did talk it was only about your mom or siblings. Maybe a mention of how the basketball season was going but never anything after that. She was treating you like you were kids again and you stole something out of her room. It was childish but what else could you do.

You: Paige

sissy 💕: what

You: can we talk, ik ur mad but i said i’m sorry

sissy 💕: i said its fine

You: dont be like that, js ttm p pls

sissy 💕: alr bru ill come by in a few

This is the longest Paige had been mad at you and it was really causing a rift in your relationship. You love your other siblings but you and Paige have always been close. You were happy she was coming to talk but nervous on how it was going to go.

“Y/N, open the door” Paige said monotone.

“Hey P” You said opening it and walking back to the couch.

You sat down and she just walked around and stood against the wall.

“Paige im sorry” you said with a voice crack.

“I know” Paige said while texting.

“What the fuck is your deal Paige? Im sorry I know you feel betrayed but you have to realize I was doing it for you okay? To protect your feelings so if what makes me a bad person then whatever but im not gonna sit here and let you give me these dirty ass looks like im one of your opps or something” You scream.

“Y/N, you need to stop acting like the world revolves around you. You’re so fucking spoiled I cant stand it. You’ve been treated like a princess your whole life and you expect everyone to forgive you and be at your beck and call. Grow the fuck up and own up to your shit. I don’t care about your dumbass sorry Y/N. You hurt one of my best friends so im not in the mood to listen to one of your sob stories” Paige yelled right back.

“Finally some emotion Paige! You’ve had your back turned to me for weeks. You keep saying I need to grow up and im trying. You and your fucking ego Paige I cant. Im trying to do the right thing but nothing is fucking good enough for you. The fact that you can sit here and say I’m spoiled is crazy, your fucking spoiled Paige. I know I hurt KK and im trying to make it right but I cant with you two walking around campus catching a attitude every time you see me” You yell trying to hold back tears but one falls.

“Now you’re fucking crying? This is exactly what im talking about bro. Grow up Y/N.” Paige said throwing her hands up.

“Yes! Yes I am. I have nobody Paige. I don’t have friends anymore, I don’t have KK and the one person who I expected to always be by my side hates me. I tried Paige I really did, i’ve apologized more times than I can count. I don’t know what to do Paige, im sorry.” You say full on crying now.

“Y/N hey wait” Paige said finally lowering her tone.

“Just leave Paige, I don’t care anymore” You said wiping your face.

“Y/N stop, i’m sorry” Paige said walking closer to you.

Paige finally caved. She still had a soft spot for her little sister and knew this wasn’t worth fighting about for so long.

Paige came to give you a hug and you completely broke down. Paige rubbed your back letting you vent about all you’ve been feeling and how if you wish you could go back and change it all you would in a heartbeat.

After you had calmed down, you and your sister spent hours together laughing and giggling talking about your favorite childhood memories. It felt so good to finally make up with someone so important to you. You guys had ordered food and hung out till it was dark outside. Everything was calm until Paige asked a question that made your heart drop.

“So sis, what are you gonna do about KK?” Paige asked with a eyebrow raise.

“I have no clue” You said looking down picking at your nails.

“Well I think you should text her you know, break the ice maybe?” Paige said passing you your phone.

“I guess so P” You said hesitant.

You: hey kk u busy?

KK baby 😘: nah why

Before you could respond Paige showed you her groupchat with KK sending a screenshot of your text saying “i wonder what she has to say”. At first you felt a wave of nervousness run through your body but with closer examination you seen that she still as your contact saved as “my princess 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾” and you had a slight feeling that there was hope in rekindling your relationship.

You: ik u prob dont wanna talk but i cant stop thinking about you

Before you could say anything else Paige showed you KKs text asking what she should say to you.

“Dont worry, I got you” Paige chuckled.

KK baby 😘: u wanna meet up n talk?

You: yea can i come to ur place

KK baby 😘: doors open

“Oh my goshh” Paige said while shaking you by your shoulders.

“Stop you don’t even know whats gonna happen” You say getting up and putting your shoes on.

“Have funn, don’t make it worse Y/N” Paige said walking into the kitchen.

The walk over to KKs dorm was sickening. The thought of being in a room alone with her was enough to make you puke but you stayed strong.

You loved KK and was determined to make sure she knew that.

You gave a slight knock before walking into her dorm.

"KK?" You say softly, extremely nervous.

"Hey Y/N" KK said in basically a whisper.

Before you could say anything else KK cut you off.

"So what did you want?" KK said with a real attitude.

"I just wanted you to know that I was sorry and that I didnt mean to hurt you. I-" You said.

"Y/N, Y/N stop I know this already. You've sent me numerous paragraphs about how sorry you are" KK cut you off, walking closer to you.

"I know, im sorry um again but I jus-" You said before KK cut you off again.

"What do you have to say Y/N, im tired of the sorrys" KK said.

You took a big breath and swallowed before saying " KK, I cant function with knowing you and me aren't on good terms. You are everything to me and I should of made that known before. I know that doesn't make what I did any better but I was scared and I was being dumb and I-"

"Thats right you were dumb, but continue " KK said while cracking a little smile.

"All I wanted you to know is that I love you KK, like none of that fake bullshit like l genuinely love you and I miss you and I know this isn't fixing anything but I cant leave here without you knowing this. I completely understand if you hate me because what I did was really shitty but im sorry. I want you in my life and I never meant to make you feel anything different" You blurted out terrified for her reaction.

"Y/N, I could never hate you" KK said with a soft tone.

Before you could get anything else out KK said "I miss you too Y/N, if im being completely honest I get why you did what you did. Not saying I agree with it but I understand. Our relationship had started off on the wrong foot anyway"

"Soo, does this mean I get a redo?" You said smirking.

"Y/N don't push your luck" KK said.

Your heart dropped and you were about to start apologizing again until you seen KKs smile. She was the light in your life and you were hers.

KK walked closer to you and pulled you in by your waist. She pulled you in tight wrapping her strong arms around you.

KK had you stuck in her embrace for what it felt like hours. Her muscles relaxed as she felt you.

For weeks she'd been feeling like a part of her was missing, you were missing.

"I love you baby" KK whispered in your ear.

"I love you more" You whispered back.

8 days later

You, KK, Paige, and a few other girls from the team were all hanging out in Janas dorm. Some of the girls admitted they missed you and were pissed at Paige for leaving you out.

KK had took a picture of the you and her kissing and was planning on posting it.

"Mama what song should I use" KK asked while laying on you.

"Any baby im not sure" You said playing with her hair.

Paige had walked past you and playfully pushed your shoulder making you laugh.

You went through so many ups and downs trying to navigate the 2 most important relationships in your life. The tears shed and arguments on arguments seem like nothing now. You were finally at peace. No more secrets or hiding. You had everything you needed, ready to enjoy life with the people you love the most.

@private-but-not-a-secret @teddygrahamslam @syraxsbigfanfr @destinybueckers44

[bwskj]

tags: leon x fem!reader, jerking off, using you while you’re sleeping, d in p, desperate leon, re4leon

-~- <3 -~-

leon comes home at 3 am after a long day of work. his mind is exhausted, having taken the whole day figuring out a fail proof plan for an assigned mission. his steps are careful as he sneaks his way into the bathroom, creaking the shower knob just enough to use it and (hopefully) not wake you.

minutes later, leon is dressed comfortably for bed—a loose shirt and some boxers. he would’ve stayed in the steaming hot shower for longer if only he isn’t craving to feel the ever so inviting soft sheets and skin waiting for him on the bed.

leon’s eyes, now always accustomed to the dark, can make the form of your figure sleeping on your stomach. your blanket is crumpled and is barely covering any of you. he eyes your exposed legs, limbs that likely fought the blanket off, and your plump ass, which he can’t avoid, sitting high and proud though you don’t even know it.

leon sighs as he hurries to squeeze out the rest of the wetness in his hair. he’d like to get all of it out but he can’t wait to get into bed right next to the love of his life either.

he throws the towel over a random chair before walking over to your side of the bed. the closer he gets, the more his eyes linger over your bare skin. he has to huff out another sigh of frustration… because it’s been a while since he’s last had a good feel of it, and in a certain way.

he leans over. his fingers achey from writing for hours in journals almost grazes the lining of your underwear before lifting a corner of your blanket and proceeding to pull it back over your body. you squirm in your sleep, and your brain must’ve known that leon’s finally home (as he usually arrives at this time) that your eyes flutter half-awake.

“leon..?” you mumble, eyes barely open.

“mm, i’m home,” leon says, setting a loving hand over your blanketed thigh.

you roll over, stretching a bit as you try to pull apart your sleepy lids. “go back to sleep,” he says gently, “i’ll get in bed with you.”

you nod, letting your eyes fall shut. as you turn to lay on your back, leon stands upright, massages his tired neck, and shuffles over to the other side. He lets out a big sigh when he feels the cloth and mattress pressing cool on his skin, his head sinking into his pillow.

you shift again, this time reaching to grasp onto leon for a cuddle. leon’s eyes that had closed itself, open to help you with strong arms pulling you in. you keep shuffling your body close, wanting to be sticking to him as much as possible. after all, you’d snuggle to the ends of the earth if it meant finally being close enough to crawl into leon’s skin.

“my baby…” you breathe out, hands creeping up to the back of leon’s neck and into his dirty blonde and drying locks. your face goes into the crook of his collar.

leon sighs in contentment as he takes a whiff of the scent of your natural skin. your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp and his hands rub up and down your lower back.

it’s silent for a moment except for both your breathing falling in sync. that is until you take your head out and with slits for eyes, you find leon’s face, connecting your lips together. you kiss him first but leon is willingly quick to kiss back. it’s a simple and loving kiss, an expression of both ‘i’ve missed you’ and ‘sleep well’.

when the kiss ends, you pull away from leon’s hold, wanting to sleep on your own terms. you lie on your side facing away to resume your sleep not knowing that leon will be laying awake for the next couple of minutes.

leon swallows and his body tingles from losing the feeling of your skin on his. he huffs a sigh, closes his eyes, and tries to drift off, but there’s something sticking up in his boxers and his brain doesn’t seem to want to shut down for the night. in the darkness of his eyelids, he pictures the way he saw your body earlier, accidentally making up an image of your flesh flushed pink and squished between his fingers.

leon wants to go to sleep, but his body is finding itself more interested in entertaining the tent down below. “shit,” he whispers under his breath, his own hand lightly brushing over his boxers. he tugs his arm away, placing it over his eyes in hopes that he could block all of it. but then again, it’s when he closes his eyes that he can see them all the more clearly.

he pulls his limb away and stares at the empty ceiling. he turns his head to look at you, your figure is curved with the way you are lying. the blanket is somehow slipping off you again, and he can see the soft meat of your waist peeking from below your shirt that’s riding up.

leon knows he’s not going to be able to sleep with your body laying there, teasing him just by existing. his arm laying closest to you—it’s like it’s moving on it’s own—is inching towards your waist, until his fingertips finally make contact with the softness of it.

there’s a short hum that sounds out of you, but you continue sleeping peacefully. And leon can’t help it; his hands slowly wrap into and around the side of your waist. he gives it a mild squeeze. so focused in on this part of your body, he only comes to terms with the fact that he’s touching himself through his boxers seconds later.

“Ha…” he breathes out as the first legitimate sense of pleasure courses through him. he snatches his arm away from you, propping himself up on his elbows before fully grabbing onto his semi-hard dick. for a moment, he glances back and forth, down at his clothes where his member is poking out and at your unmoving body enjoying your slumber. but hesitation soon dissipates the longer he sits and thinks and leon comes to a decision.

sitting himself back against the headboard, he frees his cock from the shackles of his shorts. his hand wraps around his length, pumping up and down gently below the head. a low moan he tries to stifle with a bite of his lip rises up his throat, tired eyes on his now-standing dick occasionally looking over at you.

his strokes grow until it covers his whole length, hitting the top of his balls and squeezing at the crevice under his moist tip. sometimes, his eyes close and he imagines that his hand is actually yours, and that you’re kneeling between his legs looking all pretty and sweet. As the heat consuming his hard clit begins to intensify, he bites harder on his lower lip, muscles stiffening as he tries to stop himself from thrusting up into his (your) hand.

shaky whimpers and breaths tremble through leon’s closed mouth, and when he feels you move beside him, he freezes, eyes warily opening to take a look. you’ve rolled over again, on your back. leon can make out the features of your sleeping face, your collarbones staring at him, and your breasts sitting perky under your shirt. his eyes wander down and he notices that your blanket is straying further away, now revealing your lower half.

leon’s staring at the cloth of your thin panties. he can just imagine it flushed against the form of your folds, almost like an extra skin. it’s enough to make him resume stroking himself, now at a faster more eager pace. the scenes in his head turn from a simple hand job to you sitting leaned back in front of him, legs spread apart and giving him a good show as you gently touch yourself. “what do you want, baby?” the you in his head asks him.

“fuck..” leon moans in a whisper, shuddering as a stronger sensation of pleasure runs through him. he wants to touch your pussy with his dick. he wants to slowly push it in, feeling your wet walls suck him whole. leon’s face and neck are warm, light sweat glistening on several parts of his skin as his hand starts wrapping in a circular motion around his dick.

leon’s always looking back to your cunt. the only thing stopping him from touching it is a little distance and flimsy cloth. would it be possible if he just… leon checks your face; it’s still as a statue.

he pulls his gaze away, cursing in his mind. what the hell is he thinking. he should get this done and over with so he can finally get some sleep. but like a magnet to a fridge, his stare finds its way back to you. the flame of desire within him is far from burning out.

he lets go of his dick, still hard and quite far from cumming anytime soon. he sits still for a moment, like he’s pretending to think, though really deep inside he knows he’s made up his mind. the mattress dips softly as he carefully pushes himself up. nervously hovering, he places his fingertips on the skin below your belly button. it’s so soft that he has to restrain himself from grabbing your entire waist and squeezing it tight. he trails a straight line down over the hem of your panty and right above where your clit should be. he swallows the saliva starting to form in his mouth.

very cautiously to not disturb your sleep, he removes the rest of his boxers, and lifts himself over and above you. for a second, a thought in his head yells at him, ‘leon, what the fuck are you doing?!’ but it’s shut away when his needy head accidentally prods right on your clothed part.

a shaky exhale falls out of his lips as he lets his knees dig into the mattress on both sides of you, one hand placed right by your head to balance himself while the other takes his dick and very gently positions it against the cloth of your panty. the first rock of his hips feels heavenly and he can’t help but let out a louder moan than he should. just staring directly at your clothed pussy was making his dick throb. he checks your face again and there you are still asleep. silently, he wishes that you were awake, feeling good alongside him.

he moves back and forth, creating friction against you. his hand is hesitant but he eventually gives in to the desire for it to wander over your stomach and hips. he drags his cock over your pussy again and again until it feels so fucking good for him that he turns noisy enough to stir you in your sleep. there’s a sleepy moan from you, and leons strokes stutter, slowing down a bit but never falling into a full stop.

as you feel yourself slowly awaken, the sounds of rugged breathing enter your ears. there’s a hot feeling below you and as you try to open your eyes, you catch a glimpse of blonde hair and veined arms.

“leon,” his name slips out easily along with a gasp. “what’s… going on?” when you force your vision to clear, you meet your boyfriend’s face hanging right above you, all lewd with his mouth agape and cheeks flushing a hue of red. your stomach flips in sudden excitement, heart quickening at how handsome he looks like this.

“baby,” leon starts, but his breathing and thoughts are too all over the place to think about stringing together a sentence. instead he’s moaning, almost choking on his spit, as he continues to fuck the outside of your clit.

you feel a shiver run up your whole body as you glance down and realize what leon’s been doing. from where you’re looking, the tip of his dick pulls in and out—bigger then smaller—as he rubs up against you. you lift a hand up to cup his trembling face and leon’s eyes finally meet yours.

“baby you should’ve said…” you whisper as your hand loops around to hold the back of his neck. you pull his face in to capture his mouth with your own. it’s just so obviously begging to be kissed when it hangs open like that. leon grunts, saliva that he couldn’t swallow in time because of his growing desperation slipping on your tongue and wetting your dry lips. leon, taking this as a sign that all of this is okay, finally gives in to giving your stomach a rougher squeeze. you moan from the pressure of his big hand holding you while he pushes his tongue into your mouth, a message that tells how much he wishes to devour you.

when he pulls away for air, his gaze is clouded from all the sensation. another quivering sigh comes out as he says, “… sorry… i’m sorry, i couldn’t help it,” and his hips start to buck strong again in an attempt to make his cock feel as good as it felt earlier.

“it’s okay,” your thumb gently rubs at the skin on his cheek, gasping as his dick gradually warms up your clit. “you know i’ve missed you too.”

“mm,” leon hums, too into fucking in between your folds to say anything else.

you decide to help him, bringing your hand down and letting it graze lightly over his already sensitive member. ah..” leon moans, “fuck, yes baby, please touch me.”

amusement bubbles inside you as you watch the normally cold and brooding man on top of you completely change in his demeanor—vulnerable, vocal, and desperate for your touch. as he continues pleasing himself, you place your hand over the top of his long length, allowing him to fuck a sandwich made out of the skin of your panty and hand.

“baby, you can fuck me if you want,” you whisper as you try to look into leon’s eyes which are clearly avoiding your gaze. he’s shaking his head, “mph… if i do, i’ll cum.”

teasingly, your hand palms up and down his dick, “don’t you want to cum?”

your voice is almost enough to make leon reach his climax. his dick twitches under your fingers. “y-yea,” he stutters, so he can go to sleep. but truthfully, he just wants all of this to last for as long as possible.

you take his dick in your hand, causing him to stop thrusting. with your other, you lift the slit of cloth sitting between your thighs and gently pull it to the side. leon’s staring down. the sight of your bare pussy coming into view explodes another blush of heat across his face and cock.

“do whatever you want, leon,” you say. “just feel good, hm?”

leon eyes your hand as it moves his dick close to your cunt’s lips. it’s leaking with pre-cum but you don’t mind. you give it a light pet before you press it gently in, the slick you didn’t even realise dripping out of you making it easy.

leon instantly jerks forward to further push inwards, but he doesn’t let himself go all the way. his body stiffens and it surprises you a bit when he harshly grabs on to your inner thighs. you gasp, feeling leon’s girth stick tightly against the walls of your entrance. he’s always been so big.

“haa… I can’t,” he’s almost whimpering. you can feel his grip start to pinch painfully at your skin. as you go back to look at leon’s face, there’s an expression of both pleasure and concentration. he’s obviously trying not to cum.

a few seconds pass by of him just soaking his tip in your pussy. then, he starts moving his dick in and out, still never putting the whole thing in. the slight curve of his length is just perfect enough to reach your g spot and you shiver out moans with every teasing pump.

leon isn’t going to last much longer, especially as he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of his his cock going in and out of you. he groans, strokes starting to move sloppy and irregular. you respond with moans of your own, but it’s mostly because of how perfect and beautifully messy your boyfriend looks using you to please himself.

“come on baby… cum for me?” you can’t resist asking. god, you so desperately want to see the look on his face when he finally cums. leon’s voice cracks and he whimpers, pace quickening as he chases his incoming orgasm.

“i-inside?” he asks as if worried, though his non-stop movements practically imply that he doesn’t care at all.

you hurriedly nod, hands roaming back around his neck and jaw, “mhm, if you want to, you can.”

leon’s sanity breaks as he chokes out another one of his lewd moans. his head leans to bow in your neck but you quickly scatter kisses on his jaw and tell him, “i want to see you when you cum, leon.”

leon’s a good boy. he listens immediately and puts his face back into view. his eyes lock on yours for the second time tonight and just like that, you feel his big throbbing cock filled halfway inside you jolt against your swollen muscle, warm semen shooting up your pussy. uneven moans and gasps stumble out leon’s lips, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he savors the feeling of his orgasm.

when he’s done he’s lightly panting and his head sinks straight into your shoulder. his cheek sticks moist against your skin as he breathes you in, your hypnotising scent amplifying the euphoric sensation he feels after cumming. he lays softly on your chest which rise and fall with every calm huff of a breath. his dick sits still inside you in a mixture of your juices.

your fingers intertwine back into his blonde hair, now completely dry. leon breathes you in and presses a lazy kiss to your neck. “thank you, baby,” he mumbles, “i’m so sleepy.”

you let out a short laugh. how horny did he have to be for him to do all that? “let’s sleep then hm? we can clean this up later.” leon shivers at your soothing voice and warm caresses.

he nods into you before carefully rolling off to pull his dick out and lay on the bed beside you. his eyes are already closed when you look at him again, and you let out a quiet scoff of laughter as you realise that he had already fallen fast asleep.

“goodnight leon.”

—

a/n: thanks for reading! have been busy with school but writing this was me taking a break between requirements lol (my guilty pleasure <3) hope you enjoyed !

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.” 

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space. 

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp. 

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.” 

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment. 

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!” 

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture. 

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again. 

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle. 

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip. 

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.” 

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…” 

“Osita…”   

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.” 

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed. 

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened. 

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi. 

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker. 

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

 As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner. 

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see. 

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways. 

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front. 

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them. 

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box. 

And holy fuck did he look hot. 

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground. 

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it. 

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box. 

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view. 

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up. 

“Hermosa, are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind. 

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade. 

“What’s going on, baby?” 

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you. 

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.” 

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you. 

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-” 

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.” 

Oh, fuck me. 

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?” 

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it. 

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body. 

“Like, right now?” 

“Like, right now.” 

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest. 

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat. 

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room. 

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal. 

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming. 

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…” 

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function. 

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further. 

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”  

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.  

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?” 

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth. 

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal. 

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic. 

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin. 

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came. 

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly. 

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor. 

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace. 

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible. 

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-”  You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him. 

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.” 

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear. 

“You still okay, Osita?” 

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again. 

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response. 

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again. 

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt. 

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser. 

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.” 

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core. 

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him. 

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came. 

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high. 

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath. 

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point. 

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.” 

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.” 

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-” 

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.” 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics. 

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.” 

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” 

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.” 

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[pit-and-the-pen]

(Nothing But) Flowers

a smutty Eris fic for @tsunami-of-tears's birthday! Happy Birthday! Here's some Eris sex pollen to hopefully add to a wonderful day <3

Eris x reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Sex Pollen, fingering, p in v sex, praise, Porn without plot.

Wc: 4k

Autumn was still so beautiful to you. Despite being mated to the high lord, you were still in awe of every sight you sunk in. Spring was so different from autumn. With its trees and their myriad of colors, the way the animals scurried around silent safe for some crackling leaves under their feet. And all the new plants you got to explore. Being from spring you had grown up around the soft petaled blooms but here it was so different. Deadly mushrooms and ferns as large as houses. There was always something new for you to find. 

Which is how you ended up far off the path in the forest. Following a trail of almost glowing dust that led to a large clearing full of bright purple blooms. The smell was enticing on its own but the flowers were just so pretty, reminding you of violets. Your hand reached out to touch one of the petals and it seemed to open further to you, almost begging for you to run a finger along the petals. They were soft under your hand. Velvety almost. The pollen at the center of the bloom stuck t o your fingers. The fluff was almost as stick as tree sap and you couldn’t get it off of your fingers as you tried to brush it off on your skirt. You just stared at it, wondering why it wouldn’t leave your skin, but a tree branch snapping in the distance made you realize how dark the sky had gotten. Not wanting to figure out exactly what happened in the forest after dark, you started the trek back to the forest  house.

Despite the air temperature lowering with the sun, you felt your skin starting to heat up. You placed a gentle hand to your forehead, trying to gauge for any fever. It felt normal enough to you, nothing that would explain the way your whole body was starting to flush. It must be all the walking. You thought and just continued on your way. 

By the time you reached the house, you had shed your riding cloak and the first layer of your dress. Skin flushed, you could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck and the contrasting coolness had you squirming. 

Eris was sitting in the armchair by the fire, feet perched up and a book in his lap. His reading glasses were halfway down the bridge of his nose. Your mate turned to look at you when you entered and you saw his eyes widen. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? You look like you’re burning up.” He put his book down and started walking over to you. His scent hit you full force then. Cinnamon, tart apples and a musk that was exclusively Eris. It was enough to send another wave of heat over your skin and draw a long whine from your mouth. The concern only grew in his face as he misunderstood the noise. Thinking it was due to whatever sickness was coursing through your veins and not the growing desire to jump him right then and there. 

He closed the distance between the two of you and reached a hand out to copy your earlier movements, checking for a fever. He jumped at the contact. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up. Why would you go out if you were feeling this bad?” You could only focus on the lingering feeling of his hand on your forehead, the way you leaned in closer to him at the contact. You willed your brain to listen to the words he said, his face letting you know he needed an answer. 

“I wasn’t feeling this bad when I left.” The words felt heavy in your mouth, like your tongue had been changed to iron in minutes. You fought through it as best as you could. “I was walking back to the house and I started feeling like this.”

He didn’t hesitate before he asked, “What did you do while you were there?”

It took you a while to remember. To think back on what you had done all day. 

“I was walking down the path. Just looking around at all the animals, and plants. Then I saw a few flowers that I haven't seen before and went to go look at them. They were so pretty. But they had a…” You searched for the word. “Like a sap almost.” You held out your hand to show him the lingering pollen and found that there was no sign of it, not even a residue. You stared at your hand in disbelief. You haven't washed away the sticky substance, your hands weren’;t sweaty enough on their own. Eris noticed you looking at your fingers and gently cupped your hand in his. You squirmed under the touch. You felt another wave of arousal shot through you and his eyes snapped to yours, nostrils flaring.

“Did the flowers happen to be purple, love?” He asked, voice suddenly low. You nodded and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Is that bad?” You asked, scared of his reaction. 

He must have sensed your unease and he calmed the nervous expression on his face. 

“Not bad. Necessarily. We should probably get you in the bath.” He said quickly, changing the topic. 

“Eris, what are those flowers?”

He sighed heavily. “They’re flowers that we grow specifically for Calanimia. You have the stag in spring, and we have a tea that we make from the leaves of those particular flowers. And they…well..they.” His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck as he seemingly searched for the words. It dawned on you then. A tea for Calamia.Your face flushed even more as you took in his words.

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say.

“Like I said, we should get you into a bath. Try to cool you down.” He started leading you to the bathing room attached to your bedroom but his hand on the small of your back pulled a loud moan from your mouth. The heat on your skin is almost searing under the weight of his hand. You arched into the touch as you felt your wetness start to coat your inner thigh. Eris swore under his breath, fingers clutching at the fabric of your dress, trying to steady himself. You turned around to face him and were met with his blown out pupils. His jaw was set tight, teeth picking at the skin of his lip as he stared back at you. All the heat evaporated from your body at that look, pooling into your stomach and breasts. Both started to ache in a delicious way that had you surging forward to capture your mates lips on yours. 

He held you gently, lightly returning the kiss. A groan of frustration left you as you tried to deepen the kiss but he just pulled you away from him.

“Sweetheart.”

“Please Eris. I feel like I’m on fire right now. It’s…Gods it’s like the fucking mating frenzy all over again.” You pleaded and you were telling the truth. Eris and you were unable to keep your hands off of each other for nearly a month when you accepted the bond. It got to the point where you had to send servants away because of the amount of times that they had caught you in various areas of the house. Even then, when you borough them back, you noticed the lack of male servants in the forest house. This burning was so similar, but somehow worse. Fat tears started forming in your eyes at the thought of him not touching you. Even now you were wondering why he wasn’t already inside of you. You could smell his arousal and a quick glance down at the front of his pants showed that he was already mouth wateringly hard. 

“I know. But let’s get you into some cold water and see how you feel after that.” You perked up at the idea. You would have to be undressed to take a bath. And you knew your husband. He was never one to say no for taking you in the tub. So you let him lead you up to your bedroom, knees slightly wobbly like a baby deer. 

He kept the touching to a minimum. Not wanting to rile you up any further, plus his hands were buddy trying to keep yours off of him. 

By the time you two both got to the bathing room, he practically had to pin your arms to your side to keep you from unbuttoning more of his shirt. A heavy pout graced your soft features and he only pulled your lips together before he started to slowly unlace your dress. 

You leaned into his chest as he undid the strings of your corset. Nothing like you normally wore, just a casual walking corset and a single layer of dresses thanks to you discarding part of your outfit earlier. But when his knuckle dragged across the bare skin of your back as he pushed the corset down, you shuddered violently against his touch. His arm snaked around your waist to keep you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. 

He placed you on the bathroom counter before going to fill the tub. You felt your brain fogging even more as you watched Eris’ back muscles contract. The sight was enough to make you drool. You couldn’t help the thought of how his muscles would flex as he was pounding into you. Eris stiffened as soon as the image popped into your head. Your intoxicated state must have opened up the bond wide and clear for him because you were able to smell his arousal in the room. It almost floated towards you, wrapping around your whole body and making you want to drown in it. 

“Eris.” You whined. You saw the small shake of his head before he turned to face you. 

“Sweetheart.” He took one look at you, the way your skin was flushed, your pupils too-wide pupils, and he moved towards you. He took two long steps before he froze. “Gods. You look good enough to eat but I….” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, sending a calming caress down the bond. 

Eris picked you up and pried off your arms as he deposited you in the bath. A hiss rushed past your teeth at the cold temperature. He sighed a little and placed his hand in the water, warming it ever so slightly that the goosebumps on your arms went away. 

“Can you come in too?” You asked him, the water clearing your mind a little. Washing away some of the raging heat but leaving you craving your mate none the less. 

“If I do, you have to keep your hands to yourself? Do you think you can do that for me?” He was speaking slowly, giving you time to process his words. You frowned slightly at the idea but nodded anyways, desperate to feel your mate in any way. He placed a small kiss on your forehead and rose to his feet to start taking off his own clothes. 

You didn’t take your eyes away for a second, afraid to even blink and miss the sight in front of you. Inch by inch all of his wonderful body was exposed to you. His pants were last, pulled off his feet with his boxers in a swift movement. Your eyes zeroed in on his hard cock. The tip bright red. He followed your eye line and somehow managed to get you to look in his eyes. 

“Remember what I said?” He asked simply, voice still soft. 

“No touching.” You responded and that seemed confirmation enough for him to climb in behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. It took every bit of self control you had to keep your arms pinned to your side. The rational part of your brain reminding you that he was doing this for your safety. For your comfort. 

So you leaned into his touch, savoring the bit of himself he was giving you. Your head was resting on the middle of his chest. Just content to sit in the water with him. But as soon as you got comfortable, another wave of desire pulsed through you. Somehow stronger than before. The feeling made your skin tight, almost itchy and it was painful. You let out a quiet whine, trying to hold back the sound from reaching your mates ears. It obviously didn't work. He would have been able to hear the discomfort if he was in the other room, plus you knew he could feel it being sent down the bond. His arms started to trail lightly up and down your side, resting on your shoulders where he lightly tried to knead out some of the tension resting on them.

The calming action seemed to have the exact opposite effect. HIs hands might as well have been between your legs with the searing pleasure it brought you. A deep moan left your lips that had Eris stiffening again behind you. You felt his touch start to recede and reached a hand up to keep him there. But you remembered the condition he gave you. 

“Please, don’t stop.” You whined out pathetically. Much to your delight, his hands didn’t leave your shoulders. But they stayed still, not wanting to cause another reaction. 

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, the pressure between your legs slowly building hotter and hotter. 

Eris dragged his lips lightly over the junction between your neck and shoulders. You shuddered against him. When he spoke, his lips were right against your ear. 

“Can I try something, my love?” You could have cried at his words, relief rushing through you and causing you to relax further into him. 

“Yes, nother above, Eris please.”

“I know it hurts but I want to see if I can help just a little.” At his words, you felt his fingers gently wrap around your front. Hands slightly warm as he reached for your breasts. Grabbing one of your taunt nipples in between the long digits and putting the perfect amount of pressure on it. When you cried out, he repeated the motion on the other side. Letting you squirm against him, soaking up the pleasure he was giving you. 

ONe of his hands started to glide down your stomach, searing a trail down between your legs. You screamed his name as his finger made contact with your swollen clit. Hips already bucking into his hand. He wrapped his legs over yours, pinning you in place. 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, sweetheart. Just sit back and let me do the work.” He said before he resumed his earlier kisses along your neck as he started to slowly circle his finger on your clit. Your head was thrown back, eyes already squeezed tight as you clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles white as you tried to fight the urge to grip his arms. His hand that was still kneading your breast came and gently moved your hand to his thigh. Instantly you clawed your hand around it, grateful for the grounding presence. 

You could already feel your peak nearing, your moans and cries reaching a higher pitch. Garbled version of Eris’ name leaving your lips signaled just how close you were. He sped his fingers up, drawing tighter, faster circles that had you seeing stars. You back arched off of his chest as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge. His teeth lightly nipping at your neck was all you needed to fall apart. Your body jerked at the force of your orgasm, hips twisting as much as you were allowed to. You could still feel your walls clenching around nothing as Eris swiftly drove two fingers inside your aching hole. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, back still arched, head facing the ceiling. Your nails bit into Eris’ thigh, harder than you meant to but as he sunk his fingers in and out of you, you couldn’t find a way to realize your hand. All your brain seemed to be able to do was focus on his thick fingers inside of you, the cold metal of his wedding ring hitting the inside of your thigh. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so good for me.” you whined at his words, unable to respond. 

“I know it hurts but you’re being so good. Just cum for me.” And his words were enough to push you over the edge again. Already so worked up from your first orgasm. His fingers didn’t stop though as you screamed his name. It was hard to tell where one orgasm started and the other one stopped after that. His fingers refused to stop until you were scratching at his wrist, pleading for him to at the very least slow down. He milked one last orgasm from you, fingers brushing against the soft spot deep inside of you and pulled his fingers out from your aching center slowly. You turned around in the tub, facing him before you rested your head against his chest. You heartbeat was frantic at this point but nothing compared to his. 

When you looked at Eris, his face was flushed matching your own. His lip looked like he had spent a good amount of time between his teeth. You placed a small kiss to the small indents on his bottom lip. 

You just rested against his chest, Eris using his powers to keep the bath warm while you came back down to earth. Once you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears anymore, he helped you climb out of the bath. Thinking clearly for the first time in what felt like hours, you blushed. 

“Thank you.” You said to your mate while he helped you dry off, avoiding your breast and between your legs. He slipped one of his shirts over your head, letting it fall past your thighs.The fire was still there but was tamed down to a dull roar. Nothing like the all consuming feeling from earlier. Eris had a self-satisfied grin on his face when he captured your cheek in his hand, pulling you to him as he layed back on the bed. You could feel how hard he still was, even through his sleep pants. 

“Eris…”

“I’ll be fine.” He said in a sleepy voice. He sounded more worn out than you did at the moment. 

“But I don’t want to sleep…” You trailed off as you started running your hand down his bare chest. He groaned when you ran a single finger along the line where his pants sat, hips slightly bucking towards your hand. You looked up at him, his eyes closed, hair still damp from the bath and felt desire sink back into your bones. You paused for a second as your hand dipped into his waistband. He nodded his head, eyes now looking down at you. That was all it took for you to pull his pants down just enough for his cock to spring against his stomach. Your mouth watered at the pretty pink flush it had and as much as you wanted to take him into your mouth the ache between your legs was too much to ignore now. So you quickly slung your leg over his hips and grabbed his throbbing cock in your hand. He let out a string of curses as you ran his tip through your drenched folds, once, twice and then began to sink down onto him. your hands shot out to his chest, catching yourself before you could slump against his chest. His hands were instantly on your hips, clutching at the flesh. Fingers digging in so tightly his nails were leaving behind pretty half moon indents. His throat was tight by the time you sank all the way down. Letting yourself just absorb the pleasure that was the feeling of his cock inside of you. You rocked back slightly and threw you head back at the way his tip pushed against your cervix. This was a million times better than his fingers and once you had adjusted to the feeling you were rocking back and forth on his lap. Hands helping you push off of his hips. He did his best to keep still, the strain in his face proof of that. He wanted to let you chase your high, let you get this damned pollen out of your system. But you weren’t having any of it. 

“Gods, Eris. You feel so good. Filling me up so perfectly.” You started to babble. Letting the words come out in a breathy whine. His hips bucked up as you spoke. Breaking some of the words with high pitched moans. Your nails were leaving angry red lines on his chest and the slight pain only seemed to nudge him even more. You could see the struggle in his eyes as you looked down at him. His lip was slightly bleeding because of how hard his teeth were sinking into it. You lifted a hand off of his chest and pulled his lip from his teeth. You leaned down and gave him a deep kiss. Tongue sweeping across his bottom lip to sooth the angry flesh. The hands on your hip grew slightly warmer as you started to speed your hips up. Rocking back and forth to a tempo you both loved. Your breasts were pushed against his chest from the angle of the kiss, rubbing your nipples against the smattering of hair on his chest. He whined into the kiss as you raised your hips up slowly before slamming them back down. 

“Good boy.” You teasingly muttered against his lips and that was all it took for him to lose that last little bit of control. He grabbed one of your shoulders and pulled his feet flat on the bed. The new angle forces you to sit up. He pulled the prettiest of moans from your lips. Soft cries and hiccups. You felt like he had filled your veins with electricity as he thrusted into you harder. He was grunting from the heavenly pace of his thrusts. You could only let your head fall back as you started racing towards your orgasm. 

‘Are you gonna cum for me sweetheart, come all over my cock?” He said in a mocking tone. He already knew the answer, you could feel your walls fluttering tighter against him. “Go ahead my flame.” His command had you writhing against his lap, legs shaking and it was only his hand on your shoulder guiding you that kept your hips moving. Your whole body felt so exhausted suddenly. But you focused on letting him chase his high. He kept pounding into you. Filthy grunts and moans leaving his open mouth as you felt yourself coming back down to earth after your orgasm. He gave you a few harsh, long strokes and you felt his thighs tense as he came deep inside of you. The feeling of his cum against your walls acted like a balm to the heat against your skin. Satisfying whatever senses the pollen had overtaken. You collapsed against his chest. Both of you sucking down lungfuls of air. You stayed on his chest, only moving enough to lift yourself off his softened length. You giggled a little as you felt his cum pool out of you. The both of you sat there, letting your heartbeats slow down until they're almost in sync. 

“Are you feeling any better?” He said into the crown of your head, his hand tracing feather light touches up and down your back. You just sighed happily and nuzzled further into his chest. 

“I do think we’ll have to take another bath…” You propped yourself up on your elbows, a wide smile on your face. You gave him a dramatic wink. Eris grabbed your arms and rolled you over onto your back. 

“Then let's make sure you’re properly dirty then, shall we my love?” His words made you pull him by his hair to your lips. Whatever it was seemed to be out of your system but seemed to be just getting started for your mate.