#minor warnings for mentions of puking

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[asxgard]

A Lesson in Firsts | alternate ending

Resident!Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x resident!f!reader

Alternate ending of A Lesson in Vulnerability, but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: A positive pregnancy test flips your life on its head. You try to take it one step at a time.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Expect some things inspired by this Robby and Reader! I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities lol

sorry she took awhile, she turned into something else while I was writing lol the ideas kept coming (gender was a coin toss, so don’t be upset with me)

Enjoy this monster💜she was so fun to write

Word Count: 8.2k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, foul language, unplanned pregnancy, medical inaccuracies, ANGST, y’all disappointing your parents, fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI), pregnancy sex/unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), p in v, pet name (sweetheart), hospital mentions, violence at said hospital/combative patient, it’s the 90s, vague birth descriptions, I’ve never been pregnant so forgive any errors

not beta read

It was reassuring to have Michael by your side, holding you steady in his tiny bathroom as you both waited to see what your future may hold. After puking at the hospital and realizing how late you were, the next course of action was logically this: taking a pregnancy test in Michael Robinavitch’s apartment.

You were thankful he was there, but worries ate at your mind. While he had promised to stick by your side regardless of the results, you wondered how much you could believe him. That didn’t even begin to touch your worries about your residency, and to an extent, his as well. You hoped your life didn’t have to change — you hoped you could figure out your relationship with Michael on your own terms, not by something now out of your control.

“Are you ready?” He asked gently beside you.

You were not, but you nodded regardless.

You both stared down at the tests, two little pink lines on each staring back at you. All three showed positive.

You were pregnant. You nearly threw up again.

“Are you sure it’s mine?” Was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“Do you want to keep it?” Was out of yours before you could process the question.

You both stared at each other for a long time as you silently digested his question. How on earth could he think it was someone else’s? Sure, you weren’t in an official relationship, you were in…well, you weren’t certain what you were to each other. He cared about you. You cared about him. But other than whispered words, you felt like you had no leg to stand on with whatever this was or was going to be.

“You think I’d tell you I thought I was pregnant if I didn’t know it was yours?” You whispered, irritation building. “I’ve only been sleeping with you.”

His dark brown eyes watched you like he was still thinking — and your brain was running a mile a minute. You found annoyance was the first emotion you had begun to process, wondering if his doubt was simple shock or something more. The second thing you digested was your fear for the glaring unknown future you now had to face. The third thing was sheer panic, making your knees shake.

You moved out of his tiny bathroom, the walls slowly starting to cave in on you. Would he really stay with you? Help you? Face this with you? Your chest felt tight and you had the urge to cry.

“Hey, hey,” Michael followed you, putting his hands on your arms. “We’re in this together, yeah?”

“You thought—fuck.” Tears came, blurring your vision, forcing you to blink rapidly and turn away from him.

He let out a long sigh, “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting—”

Even through your teary gaze, you found his eyes. He blinked quickly, but you caught the emotion setting in, tears building. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried, and while you could not feel him crying, a few drops of tears landed on your shoulder. You gripped him tighter.

“I’m so sorry.” You breathed out against his shoulder, trying not to hyperventilate.

Michael stilled in your arms, moving his arms from around your middle and looking at you in the eyes. His brows were drawn together, tear tracks on his cheeks. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, no. I could’ve—we might’ve—I—”

He shushed you, bringing you back into his chest.

“I don’t want to ruin your life.” You whispered. “I guess I could—”

“What? No. No. I’m not going anywhere.” He swallowed, bringing a hand to your head and holding you close. “I’m more worried I ruined your life. Your residency.”

You exhaled, all the air leaving your lungs as you thought about it. You would likely be able to finish your second year before needing to take any time, but who knew about your third year. Maybe they would let you continue without much hassle. But childcare—the money to raise a child.

You held each other for a long time, worries bleeding together, but he never let you go. Not once.

When you finally moved, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest had not dissipated. He moved silently behind you, both of you settling in his kitchen, leaning against the countertop while he started some hot water.

You knew you both were going to have to have a deeper conversation about this — you were going to have to come up with a plan. Despite how devastated you were at the results, both of you seemed to be on the same page about keeping it. A baby.

Your baby.

—

The first OBGYN appointment came with a flood of nerves, uncertainties crashing together. Michael had been unfocused throughout your night shift together, but both of you had decided several nights before to keep your relationship as private as possible. You both taking that part step-by-step, wading through the water of your new circumstances with small, careful movements.

After the nurse took urine and blood, you ensured that your OB didn’t do any work at Big Charity — not wanting to get the two lines of your life crossed. You were relieved to find she did not.

She was cheery when she entered, subtly taking in your energies and bringing a sense of calm. No judgement crossed her face, but she did ask about your residency after reading your file.

“Well we’ll start with a pelvic exam, and then make sure there’s proper placement in the uterus with ultrasound. Then we’ll go over your medical history, alright?” Dr. Lyons said, moving to grab the machine and get the gel.

You only nodded silently at her, still having a hard time processing it all. Michael squeezed your hand, bringing you out of your head.

“Are you a resident, as well?” Dr. Lyons asked casually, squirting some gel onto your stomach.

Michael cleared his throat, “Yeah, year three.”

“Very nice, what specialty?”

“Emergency department,” He said, small smile forming. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was proud of it. “It’s how we met.”

She got the transducer ready with a hum, “That can be very stressful.” She eyed you only briefly.

“I can cope.” You told her, but after a moment, you felt like you were more trying to convince yourself. Stress and pregnancy? Bad mix.

Her smile returned, “Just keep an eye on her blood pressure, yeah?”

Michael nodded, eyes going to the screen once she started. She was unable to see much detail, and so she switched you over to a transvaginal ultrasound. It was grainy, but the unmistakable form of a fetus took center stage.

“Measuring at about 3.1cm,” Dr. Lyons said. “About seven weeks, I’d say, based on your last menstrual period.”

Michael’s grip got tighter and you looked away from the screen to peek at his face. You found tears in his eyes, and he looked like he was trying not to cry. You rubbed your thumb over his fingers.

“Let me get the doppler, hear that heart activity.” She gave you a few tissues and allowed you to scoot back up the exam table.

The sound of your baby’s heart filled the room, racing like a speeding train at 119bpm. It filled your heart up with warmth and tears leaked from your eyes.

After your exam, Dr. Lyons gave you some more information, went over her concerns with your stress levels and a few prenatals she wanted you to take. You assured her that your residency would not interfere and she sent you on your way — scheduling for another appointment in four weeks.

In the quiet of his car, Michael grabbed your hand. “We’re having a baby. We’re really having a fuckin’ baby.”

You chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re going to be parents.”

—

“A shotgun wedding is awfully cliche.” You said one afternoon on Michael’s couch, channel surfing. “My mom would be so disappointed.”

Michael walked into his living room with a sandwich, ham and cheese by the look of it. Your stomach grumbled, eyes trying to focus on the television as he took a seat beside you.

“I live to be a disappointment.” He said with a shrug and a smirk, biting into his sandwich.

You huffed a laugh, “Seriously though. I think we should put that thought to rest for now.”

“Oh, don’t wanna marry me now, huh?” His tone was light.

You hummed, your hormones flaring within you, suddenly souring your mood. “I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m having your baby.”

He looked over at you in surprise at your shift in mood. “Are you alright?”

You huffed, turning your eyes away from him. “What are we really even doing, Michael? We have no plan, no fucking money, loans up the ass…what? You gonna stay with me because you knocked me up?”

“What the hell has gotten into you? I thought we decided to try this out?” He placed the plate down onto the coffee table to give you his full attention.

“What the hell has gotten into me?” You scoffed, barely looking at him. “I’m trying to be realistic here.”

“It feels like you’re doubting everything I’ve been telling you.”

“Most of what you told me was in your bathroom, before we found out. You said you’d try and I still feel like we barely know each other.”

“I think I’ve made it obvious how I felt.” He said, tone low, eyes burning the side of your face.

“Oh, did you? I must’ve lost the memo.” Now you were just being mean, but you couldn’t help it. Doubts had been eating away at your mind, and you had been terrible about voicing them. A crippling flaw, it seemed.

“I don’t care about you just because you’re fucking pregnant with my baby. Jesus Christ.” He stood quickly, running a hand through his hair.

The tears came unexpectedly; you blinked once, barely registering his words and his tone, and then there they were, blurring your vision.

He stalked back into the kitchen, footfalls heavy, shoulders rigid. You watched him go.

Part of you wanted to sink into the couch and be swallowed whole. The other part of you wanted to rise to follow him. You felt stuck between both — fear and anger equally eating you alive. You moved to flee instead, avoiding both altogether.

Despite your blurry vision, you found your bag filled with extra clothes next to your purse.

He was on you in an instant, “No, no, no.” His tone was still hard, annoyance coming off him in waves. “We’re gonna sit down and talk about this like adults.”

Your eyes did not move from your hand and his on the strap of your bag, tears freefalling. One hit the top of his hand and he let out a long sigh. With his other hand, he tipped your head up so you would look at him instead of the floor.

“Come on, talk to me.” He said softly, the frustration on his face giving way to concern. “Where did this come from?”

You struggled to find your voice, though when you did, there was really no explanation. “I—” You broke down, a sob coming from your lips as you tried to look away from him again.

He brought you into a hug, bag dropping back to the floor, forgotten about. He kissed your hairline and shushed you.

It was too much. Neither of you had even told anyone yet, or discussed much more than vague details of your plan. It was still early, you both had said after your first appointment, we have time. It felt so foolish now, dancing around your problems like neither of you had learned anything in that bathroom a week ago. Like hiding your feelings was still a suitable option.

“I—I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

He hummed against your hairline, “Thank you for your apology. Just breathe for me.”

You followed his advice, taking a deep breath in and then releasing it. It did little to solve the tension in your shoulders.

When you looked at him, he brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you wanna sit and talk about it?”

You nodded silently and you moved back to the couch. You sat quietly for a few minutes, fiddling with your fingers.

“I’m just having my doubts, you know?” You let out a shaky breath. “Like this is still so new and I don’t know. There’s still things to figure out. I don’t want to rush this between us, but I don’t know—it’s just another uncertainty and it’s making me so anxious.”

He processed your words with pursed lips, watching you with those pretty brown eyes of his. He fully turned toward you and grabbed your hands in his.

“This won’t be easy, but I want to be by your side. I want to be in your life. I care about you and I have long before we found out.” He took a breath. “I don’t want to rush our relationship either, but I want you here. I want you to let me in.”

You met his eyes, “I want you to let me in, too.”

He smiled, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

—

The pizza place was not the intention for your first official date together, but you took one step into the place Michael had chosen and nearly thrown up. The meats cooking seemed to strike straight to your stomach, and the nausea was immediate. He had worriedly ushered you out of the nice restaurant, rubbing your back while you leaned over, hands on your knees trying to breathe.

No vomit came, thankfully, that would have been so embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. “That place was lovely, I swear.”

He did not take it to heart, hand not moving from your back. “Don’t sweat it.”

Hunger grumbled in your stomach, and a few store fronts down was a little pizza spot. The smell of cheese and yeast was actually a welcomed one when you stepped inside. You both looked a little overdressed for it, but you sat down after ordering a few slices without being fazed.

“Are you looking forward to your fourth year?” You asked, sipping your clear soda — Michael insisting, even after you assured him your stomach had settled.

“I am,” He nodded, “Is it weird I still feel wildly underprepared?”

You shook your head, “You? You’re the best person we’ve got in there aside from Dr. Long.”

He blushed heavily, shaking his head. “No way.”

“You should consider going for that chief resident position.” You told him with a grin, winking, “I love a man in power.”

He sputtered a laugh, “Ulterior motives? I’ll consider it.”

“You should, though, seriously. You’d be very good at it.”

“Thank you.” He said, “Are you going to tell your PD soon?”

You frowned, thinking about the program director in question. It was the logical next step regarding your residency. “I was thinking about next week? I’ll try to tell Long then too. I’m just nervous, I didn’t really look over the benefits with this sort of thing when I started.” You chuckled lightly. “Didn’t really think it would affect me.”

He smiled sheepishly, sipping his soda, “Happy accidents.”

You grinned at him, “I’d cheers to that.”

So you did, laughing and enjoying his company over greasy pizza.

When you returned to his apartment, heat had settled low in your belly. You had been spending much of your free time at his place, leaving more and more of your clothes behind — even doing a shared load of laundry.

His quick kiss once you had gotten inside had turned into something much deeper, hands roaming and clothes falling to the floor. The date you had gone on had made you feel worlds better about this whole thing working out. It was a small step, but it lifted the weight from your shoulders.

Michael had you against the wall, one hand beside your head and the other gripping your hip. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth and gripping his hair in both hands. His hand on your hip slipped to where you wanted him most, ghosting over your clit before settling by your slick entrance.

“You’re so wet. Fuck.”

You whined against his lips, trying to desperately pull him closer.

It wasn’t long before you were on his bed, wrapping your legs around him, kisses sloppy and his lips searing the skin of your throat. You rocked your hips up, eager for more friction and he groaned. He fumbled off you, reaching towards his nightstand.

You blinked curiously at him, pulling him back to you. “We don’t need that.”

“What?” He asked against your lips.

You giggled, moving your hips up again to feel him. “I’m already pregnant, Mike. Let me feel you.”

He moaned at your words, making you smirk. He was lost in your kiss when you moved your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance. His breath hitched before pushing in slowly.

“Jesus Christ.” He exhaled once he was fully sheathed, eyes screwed shut like he was trying to focus.

It felt like all your nerves were on fire, so much more sensitive to the feel of him, each drag of his hips. His pelvic bone and patch of hair brushing up against your clit. You whined, simultaneously already over stimulated and needing so much more.

He tried not to be too rough with you, while also trying to consider your pleasure above his. He adjusted his movements until you were responding, clinging to him, one hand gripping his back desperately, the other between your legs.

“Mike, holy shit. Michael.” You moaned against his shoulder, the band in your lower belly growing more taut by the second.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your jaw, “Let me feel you cum, come on, sweetheart.”

The tension in your belly snapped with a moan, and your pussy gripped him impossibly tight.

“I’m gonna—” He hissed.

“Please. Please. Please.” You begged, arching your back.

The warm feeling that filled you was different, but you found it felt so good. His hips stuttered, moan swallowed by your mouth, and you tightened your legs around him.

Ragged breathing filled his bedroom, and his forehead rested against yours. He peppered a few kisses to your cheeks, making you grin. He rolled off of you with a groan low in his throat when he slipped out of you, both of you unmoving for another minute.

“Well that’s a first I can get used to.”

He laughed.

—

The first people you told were your PD and the chief attending, both men, and despite the disappointment clear on Dr. Long’s face, it went over well. Dr. Long assured you that he would work with the schedule to ensure you would be able to take your leave once you gave birth — six paid weeks. Anything additional would need to be vacation time, plus a slight risk to your residency. Thankfully it all lined up enough that you would be able to start your third year without a hitch, seven weeks after your due date.

You did not mention Michael to them, but you had both discussed that he would attempt to take a few days to a week around your due date to stay with you. You knew they would likely pick up on the overlap.

The first people Michael told were his parents, who had gone quiet on the other line as he paced his kitchen. You stood still leaning against the dining table, watching it unfold.

His mother’s voice rang out like a bell on the other side, “Oh, honey, did you forget to tell us you were engaged?”

He physically deflated, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “No, mom. We’re not engaged.”

The other line was quiet for a few beats, then it was his dad, “Son, how the hell could you be so reckless? First, choosing to be a damn emergency room doctor, and now what? Got some broad knocked up?”

Michael’s jaw tensed and you looked away, guilt filling your gut.

“Don’t call her that.” His tone was hard, the serious edge to it making you look back at him.

“...some golddigger…whore…does she even know you’re not a real doctor yet? Ha!” His father was ranting in the background.

“She’s a resident, too.” Michael snapped back. “You don’t have to be proud of my decisions, but this is happening. I’m having a baby, that’s a fact. You don’t even need to stay in my life, but she is going to be, so deal with it.”

“Michael, honey, you don’t mean that—”

“No, I do. You don’t get to shittalk her, I won’t tolerate it.” His voice cracked, “I wanted you to be a part of it, but it’s clear you don’t want to be.”

“Michael—”

“If you’re going to be this fucking stupid, fine. Don’t come crying to us when—”

Michael hung up, the weight of it crushing him, tears coming. You moved quickly, taking him into your arms before his knees could buckle. He held onto you like you were a lifeline, sobs wracking his body. You were silent, rubbing circles onto his back, knowing no words would be enough.

You felt an anger brewing in your stomach over how his father had spoken to him, but he had revealed a few weeks prior that his parents had wanted him to be a surgeon. Michael said it took awhile before he got the nerve to tell his father he had chosen the ED over trauma surgery. Now you knew why.

You brought him to the couch, kissing his face and running your nails along his scalp. He curled up, resting his head in your lap, while you ran fingers through his hair. You knew he should not have to bear the weight of their disappointment, especially since he was such a good man.

Flicking on a random baseball game, you didn’t let your fingers stray from his hair.

His anger seemed quick to follow his sadness, moving to sit up, face scrunched together.

“They don’t even know you! How could he even—he has a lot of nerve—”

“Hey, hey,” you placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to take what he said to heart. I appreciate you standing up for me, that meant a lot.”

His eyes softened when they met yours, “You don’t deserve that.”

You nodded in agreement.

Later that night, your parents took it a bit easier, though their voices were still thick with disappointment.

“What about your residency?” Your mom asked, “How could you be so foolish? You worked so hard for this!”

“I know, I already figured it out. I’ll still start my third year on time.”

“Baby’s aren’t easy, and if you go back to work full time? What about childcare?”

It was unnerving how silent your father had been.

“There’s a daycare at the hospital, we’ve been thinking about that.”

Your mother sighed, “Well we can’t stop you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You really did not, but you didn’t dare say that.

—

Michael’s mother warmed up roughly a month later, right around your appointment to find out the gender. She had explained that his father would come around, but hadn’t yet, but she expressed wanting to meet you. They lived all the way in California, so them coming to meet you (or you going to meet them) seemed more placating than realistic. Still, you agreed, voicing over the phone you would love to meet her.

Michael anxiously tapped on the steering wheel the entire way to your OB.

“Do you wanna bet on it?” You asked, trying to pull your own anxious mind from running wild.

“Bet on what?”

“The gender.” You said with a smile, looking over at him.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before looking back at the road. “What’re the stakes?”

You contemplated with a hum, “I could really go for ice cream.”

He laughed, “Ice cream?”

Shrugging, you added, “Or a beignet.”

“Not quite as high stakes as I was thinking.”

“And what were you thinking?”

“You should move in with me.”

You choked on your saliva, coughing, “Excuse me?”

It had not been long enough to consider that, even if your relationship was going well. It had only been official for a month.

“Not right now!” He said, swallowing thickly. “My lease is up in three months. Might be smart to consider a two-bedroom, you know, even if you don’t move in.”

“Oh.” You looked at the road ahead of you. “That might be too high a stakes.”

“You’re right, that was stupid.”

“No!” You objected. “No, it’s a smart thing to consider. It would be easier once they’re here to live together. But are we ready for that kind of commitment?”

“Sorry to inform you, but we’re going to have a baby together. Surprise!” His lighter tone was back, as was the smirk. “I think just about everything else is much lower stakes than that.”

“I would like to seriously consider that.” You told him quietly. “Just not over a bet.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry to spring that on you. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

You grabbed his right hand and squeezed. “I really just don’t want to fuck this up over spontaneous decisions. I’ll think about it.”

He nodded, “So higher stakes than a sweet treat, but lower than moving in together? Hm, oh! What about that craft beer festival I was telling you about?”

You barked out a laugh, “I’m not going to a craft beer festival. I can’t even drink!”

He smirked, “You’ll be a perfect DD, then! Plus, they’ll have those fancy craft sodas and music I know you like.”

“Fine!” You huffed out, trying to hide a grin. “If I win, then you’re taking me to the next stupid rom-com that comes out.”

“Pfft, I love a rom-com. Think bigger!”

You thought for a moment, “I want to go to the next Comic-Con fully dressed up as whoever I want.” While you had no strong feelings about the con either way, you knew Michael did.

He groaned, “Dressed up, too? At least you’d be able to enjoy yourself at mine!”

“What? I’m sure there’d be a panel on that comic you like so much.”

His tongue moved over his lip, his eyes narrowed at the road.

“So, do we got a deal?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“Fine. I’ll even let you pick first.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laughed. “A boy.”

“You sound confident.” He noted, turning into the parking lot.

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

The smile that came over his face made your heart stutter, sweet and soft.

“Alright, if it’s a girl then we’re going to the craft beer fest. A boy and we go to comic con.”

“Dressed up.” You added, smirking. “Oh! I also want a beignet right now, too.”

He laughed, “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You even shook on it.

You waited anxiously for Dr. Lyons to confirm the gender, your gaze holding steady with Michael’s. You held his hand while he rubbed circles on your knuckle with his thumb.

“A girl!” She said, turning the screen to face you both, pointing to your baby.

Your head whipped over to look at the grainy image, disbelief settling in — more so upset at the fact that you lost rather than the gender itself. It was fleeting, however, and a cozy, warm feeling replaced it.

“A girl.” You echoed, smile forming.

Michael moved from the stool he was sitting on to kiss your forehead, whispering a subtle, “I win.”

You shooed him away. “Sore winner.” You whispered back.

Dr. Lyons left a few minutes later, leaving a few prints on the counter for you and Michael to take home.

You stared at the photos, pointing to a few features you noticed. Little feet and nose. You began to wonder what she might look like — who she might take after more, or if she would be a perfect mix. Your heart swelled.

“I’ll go buy tickets this weekend.” Michael told you, a triumphant grin stretching across his face.

You scoffed, moving off the exam table to put your pants back on.

He wrapped you up in his arms, twirling you around, “We’re having a baby girl!”

You laughed, holding him tight, echoing him. When he set you back on the ground, he kissed you tenderly and your eyes grew teary.

“I may be a sore winner, but let’s go get you that beignet.”

—

Michael first told you he loved you while you were making dinner one night. It had been your first night off together in nearly a week, and you were thankful to be in his company again, craving his touch and his voice. You moved to place something in the oven and stood back up to find his eyes already on you.

He had a goofy smile on his face, making your cheeks warm. So many feelings were swirling in your stomach — and something you felt was dangerously close to love. It had been enough time to call it that, surely, but part of you worried it was mostly your hormones talking.

Until he voiced it first.

“I’m in love with you.”

Several beats of silence echoed in his kitchen as you stared at him. Emotion constricted your throat, and you blinked away the coming tears.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

He kissed you deeply, one hand holding your head while the other moved to the small of your back.

“Say it again.”

You giggled against his lips, “I’m in love you, Michael Robinavitch.”

He kissed along your jaw, “Again.”

So you told him, again and again, in every way you could until dinner was ready. He made sure you knew how much he loved you later that night.

—

At twenty-three weeks, you had a much more noticeable bump, though your scrubs hid it well. You had announced it to your co-residents weeks ago, to a weird mix of congratulations and odd looks. Your relationship with Michael was still primarily private, and you barely talked about your boyfriend while in the hospital so your pregnancy was very out of left field to all of them (which, it had been to you as well).

Michael had grown increasingly protective after you started your second trimester, moving to take the more combative patients or shoulder the more stressful cases. Part of you appreciated him, but the other part was finding it increasingly frustrating.

Dr. Long already had you parked in triage for a majority of your shift, and you definitely did not need Michael treating you with kid gloves, too. Your senior resident gave you a bit more leeway, but you could see Dr. Rivera was picking what to give you just as carefully.

After a possible DV victim had come into your care, you assessed her injuries and found she was not critical. Her husband hovered while you asked questions, answering most of them for her, which set your teeth on edge. You brought her into the back, placing her in East 3, and put her on the list to get a head CT. You moved to inform a senior attending of what you suspected, and he noted it and sent you to find the social worker.

Not long after you had, you also noted to try to talk to her while she was alone, but then an ambulance rolled in, stealing your attention. Michael was the first one to get to the patient, assessing quickly.

The patient struggled against the soft restraints, making Michael keep stepping in front of you. You were never going to learn this way.

You pushed past him, checking the man’s vitals and pupils. Likely an overdose, by the look of it, but you still wanted to run urine and blood. The man was also talking in riddles, so psych might be a good call to make, too.

Grabbing hold of Michael’s wrist after the patient was settled, you pulled him into the hallway, moving towards the staff lounge.

“I’m never going to learn if you keep preventing me from every mildly combative or stressful case that wheels in.” You told him sternly in a hushed voice.

He blinked his eyes at you, before his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not trying—”

“No, you are.” You said. “I appreciate the concern, trust me. But I’ll never be a good doctor if I only see the easy stuff.”

He rolled his tongue over his front teeth, “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know, Robby,” you said, exasperated. “Dr. Long is already benching me from a lot going on back here.”

“He’s not benching you. You’re an asset in triage.”

You wanted to scream.

A code sounded, interrupting any thought you might have had, both of you turning and running into Central 1. You figured the conversation would be shelved for another time.

The woman was older, but had gone into asystole, and despite all the best efforts of yourself and those around you, her time of death was called a half hour after that. It had left you sweaty and in need of a cold drink, so you departed to do just that.

You had no idea what had come over you when you heard shouting back in East 3, but you beelined for it. A wide eyed Maya, a nurse, exited and was calling for security. You stepped behind the curtain to see the husband arguing with another man while the woman was sobbing, begging them to stop.

“Hey! Hey!” You shouted, moving between them. Your first mistake.

Your second? Getting in range to be hit — the man’s elbow coming back and hitting you in the nose as he moved to punch the husband. You tripped backwards, turning just in time to catch yourself with your hands. You quickly noted that you had not landed on your stomach, but your nose was bleeding, dripping blood onto the tile.

Security was in the room in the next second, moving the curtain and revealing you on the floor to the hallway. You felt Michael’s eyes almost immediately. Fuck.

He was next to you within moments, hands on you while you tried to move to stand, your name on his lips. “Are you okay? Fuck!”

“Peachy,” you replied, your hand absentmindedly moving to your belly.

“She got in the way! I wasn’t trying to hit her!”

“That’s enough!” Security moved the man out of the room.

You had never seen Michael so angry, and it rattled through you, his murderous gaze following the man until he disappeared at the end of the hall. You silently followed him into an empty room across the hall and he pulled the curtain shut.

Michael assessed you silently, still clearly fuming, but you were glad he had not moved to attack the man who had accidentally hit you. His hands were gentle, moving along your cheeks to your nose until you winced.

“I’m ordering you a head CT and an ultrasound.” He said, wiping a bit of the blood from your face.

“That’s not necessary, just give me a few minutes.”

“The fuck it’s not necessary, you’re pregnant with my child. Are you kidding me?” His gentle tone had disappeared.

You blinked owlishly at him, stunned by his anger now directed at you.

“What were you thinking? Why didn’t you get security?”

“Maya was already getting them, I wanted to see what was going on.” You said, already feeling stupid.

He let out a long, annoyed sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m going to go order those tests and get you some ice.”

You frowned as he disappeared, bringing your fingers to lightly touch your face. You moved your hand back to your belly and rubbed circles onto your skin. You had been reckless, you realized, and if you had done anything to threaten—you felt sick.

“You’re next for CT, I’m gonna do the ultrasound now. Probably smart to call your OB, so she can check you, too.” Michael said, coming back into the room with an ice pack in hand, voice switching to how he sounded with a patient.

“I’m sorry.” It was barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking. I—I—”

“Hey,” he was in front of you now, touching you tenderly, gently, like you would break. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

You did so, trying to calm your racing heart by breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“I just—you and Long are keeping me from some really good cases. I didn’t want to have to sit another one out…I thought I could handle it.”

His frown was still on his lips, but he grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “You scared the shit out of me. You were just—you were on the ground and you were bleeding. Nothing else mattered, I thought—fuck. I don’t mean to be overprotective. At the end of the day, this is still the ED and things are just going to happen, but you really have to think about the situations you’re putting yourself in. I’ll back off a bit if you promise me one thing.”

You nodded, grabbing his fingers.

“Just promise me you’ll be more mindful. You’ll get security first, ask questions second. You’ll get me, or Long or Rivera, or whoever’s on if you sense something going south.”

“I promise.” And you meant it.

He nodded, kissing your forehead — not even caring to cut back the PDA, like you both had agreed to within the walls of the hospital. You were thankful he had, assured by the gestures of affection.

The doppler sounded with a steady, normal heart rate which calmed every nerve you had. A long breath left you and relief was clear on Michael’s face.

The ultrasound revealed normal movement, your baby thankfully finding their time to shine, kicking against your womb much to Michael’s amusement. He moved the transducer to touch your belly to feel for himself, and a large grin lit up his features.

It was the first time he had been able to feel her, your baby girl. He left his hand on your belly for a long time, and you put one of your hands overtop of his.

His brown eyes met yours, “She’s moving.”

You returned his smile, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”

He nearly cried.

—

Your first apartment had come with a decent amount of stress. Your roommate had been upset when you explained you would not be renewing your lease with her, but ultimately understood. It was unfortunate that since your lease had finished first, you had to crowd Michael’s apartment with the random odds and ends from your old apartment until his lease was up the following month.

You were thankful to find something in your price range, and even more grateful to find something nice. It was a simple two-bedroom place, with enough room to breathe in, and would suit both of your needs until your residency was over.

Michael insisted on moving most of it, with the help of one of the resident’s you knew from the hospital, who was sworn to secrecy before he even came over. Michael told you he considered him to be a friend. He put you on supervising duty, dictating where each piece of furniture should go. After all the furniture was in the apartment, all that was really left to do was furnish the baby’s room.

You wanted this place to be your home, and so there was a bit of weight on your shoulders to fill it. Make it cozy, make it yours.

The furniture for the baby’s room was a bit complicated. Your style clashing with Michael’s more simplistic one. You couldn’t help it! It was your first baby, of course you want to go a little overboard with the design.

You both eventually settled on lighter woods and pastels, not necessarily having the budget for frivolous. You did go a bit overboard on clothes, but hey, pick your battles.

Folding some of her clothes sitting cross-legged on the floor, Michael was trying to put together the crib behind you. It was a fairly simple sight, watching him screw together several pieces, but it still got you all hot and bothered.

“How about Jasmine?”

Michael made a small noise, indicating a simple no. “Patricia?”

You responded as he had. “Susan?”

“Marie?”

You thought about that one, before shaking your head. “Eleanor?”

He considered it. “Ellie’s cute. I like that one.”

You smiled in victory, moving some of her clean clothes into the hand-me-down dresser.

“Eleanor Robinavitch.” You said, testing it on your tongue.

“Eleanor Robinavitch.” Michael echoed, placing his tools down to give you a kiss.

—

Your due date came too quickly. You had thoroughly been enjoying Michael’s company, just the two of you, but by your thirty-eighth week, you would have done anything to get the baby out of you. Though, true to how she had been conceived, it came as a bit of a surprise.

Michael’s shift had not yet finished, though it was close enough that you did not want to call him at the hospital. You only had to wait two hours. Besides, statistically speaking, first-time pregnancies usually had a longer laboring period as opposed to subsequent labors.

The contractions were brutal. More than you had been expecting. Those breathing exercises you learned in those classes did very little to help with the pain, but it did help you get through them.

By the time Michael stepped through the front door, you were leaning over the coffee table, finding the position to be the most helpful. He was by your side in an instant.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Figured…I could wait…still about seven minutes apart.” You breathed out, the pain in your abdomen beginning to ease again, allowing you to take a big breath.

He kissed your forehead, “I’ll start getting everything to the car. Your bag still in the closet?”

You nodded, leaning back onto the couch and relaxing, hand on your belly.

Michael moved quickly, grabbing his bag, your bag and your baby’s bag and putting them into his car. His anxious energy made you want to stand, moving around the kitchen and bedroom like a tornado. You tried to close your eyes and rest, knowing it was not going to be much longer.

Nearly a half hour later, contractions at nearly six minutes apart but in short bursts, you wandered into the bathroom. You were overly thankful since as soon as you stepped foot onto the bathroom, your water broke. You stared down at the puddle you had made in shock, before glancing at yourself in the mirror.

This is really happening. You were about to have a baby.

After putting a towel down over top of it, you let yourself sit on the toilet. You called Michael to get you some new pants, with a sheepish smile.

“My water broke.” You explained.

He only glanced down at the towel and was off to do as you had asked.

It was not long after that that your contractions moved down to five minutes apart, lasting one minute for nearly an hour. For as level headed as Michael was around the ED, he was eager to get you to the hospital. During the drive, he had you breathe with him, in and out, even when the pain made you want to throttle him.

“Can we seahorse next time? Fuck.” You complained, leaning back in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle tighter.

“Had I the parts, absolutely.”

“I’m still blaming you.” You said through clenched teeth.

You could tell he tried not to laugh, but you were glad he wasn’t taking it to heart.

“What did we cheers to on our first date? Happy accidents?”

You did your best not to curse at him.

After eight long, excruciating hours, you were ready to push. Despite how much you had wanted to throttle him, Michael really was a trooper — he breathed with you, helped you walk around when a nurse suggested it would help, and held you upright while you leaned on him. All things considered, he was a perfect birthing partner, if not a little anxious.

He had read every book about pregnancy, wandered up to L&D at Big Charity to ask random questions, and brushed up on all the latest studies. You knew he knew what was going on and he still asked stupid questions despite it.

If you weren’t in the throes of labor, you might have laughed.

After getting your go ahead, Dr. Lyons let Michael “help”, mostly just to catch the baby. She was on your chest the next second, crying her little lungs out, which you found quite relieving.

Your eyes were blurry when they met Michael’s gaze, looking down at your daughter and whispering to her. Michael kissed your forehead.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He told you, and you could tell he was being earnest.

“I did just push out a baby.”

He smirked back at you, before glancing down at your daughter. He brushed a gentle finger against her cheek, smiling with an expression you had not seen before — but it was something you were experiencing, too.

When she was cleaned, you could tell some obvious features were all you, but you could pinpoint several of Michael’s features. And her eyes? In both shape and color, they were all Michael.

—

In the months that followed Eleanor’s birth, there were still so many things to still figure out. You dreaded returning to work and being away from her, but you also wanted to complete your residency more than anything.

Michael was an excellent father. Handling night feedings, while also trying to take care of you in the first few weeks, and also working. He was compartmentalizing well, but you could see it weighing on him.

You tried to pick up the slack, but postpartum was no joke. Your hormones returning to normal and the sleepless nights really took most of the wind out of your sails most days. You were grateful when Michael would get off shift to give you just a tiny break before you each went to bed, but the dynamic shifted when you returned to work.

The daycare at the hospital was truly a dream come true, with a reduced rate and easy access that made you less anxious whenever you were working. As it stood, the plan was to stay at Big Charity until your residency was done, Michael hoping for an attending position after his fourth year was completed.

You both had vaguely discussed moving out of Louisiana eventually. Perhaps closer to your parents, or to his, or somewhere different entirely. Pennsylvania or New York, perhaps. It was too far into the future to be able to focus on it.

In a rare day off for each of you, Michael convinced you to head to the park, have a picnic and enjoy the weather. Eleanor was more engaged, and was making her biggest effort to crawl. She could sit up on her own without much assistance, and your heart constricted whenever she hit a milestone. She was growing up much too fast for your liking.

The breeze felt nice on your skin, sitting on a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree. Eleanor was talking nonsense to Michael, bringing one of her toys to her mouth.

In her babbling, she said something awfully close to dada, which made your eyes go right to Michael, who was beaming.

“Was that—”

“She does not get to say dada first,” You said in a huff, but your tone was light.

He laughed, “Can you say that again, Ellie? Dada, come on, da-da.”

It warmed your heart, even if you were a bit jealous.

Lunch was simple sandwiches, and some baby food Eleanor had been more and more interested in lately. After, Eleanor settled down for a much needed nap, and you enjoyed the quiet with Michael.

“I’ve really enjoyed this last year and a half with you — it’s been some of the best moments of life.” He grabbed your hand, stealing your attention from your sleeping baby. “It has been such a privilege to raise Ellie with you, and I really could not imagine life without either of you. You mean so much to me, I love you so much.”

Your face warmed, a fuzzy feeling in your chest. “I love you, too. So much. You’re a wonderful father to Ellie, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Your heart halted when he moved from beside you to rest on one knee.

“I know we’ve been doing things a bit backwards, but you said shotgun weddings were cliche. So would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

There was a ring box in his hand, but you did not even look at it before throwing yourself into his arms, “Yes, oh my god. Yes.”

You kissed him, holding him to your body. You knew you would not have picked any other path, knowing this was the one for you.

Michael Robinavitch was the one for you, wholly, undoubtedly, unconditionally.

[ continuation ]

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator

Did I pick Dr. John Carter’s mother’s name? Yes, yes I did.

I feel like I could’ve kept going, but I ended up liking the stopping point. Might take these characters forward into the Pitt timeline!

[joongieology]

My Wife? My Wife. | Park Seonghwa

Pairing: Husband!Seonghwa x Wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! jealousy, possessive!Seonghwa, simp!Seonghwa, cussing, nudity, mention of worshipping, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), endearments (let me know if I missed something!)

Sypnosis: You're at a Gala waiting for your husband, when you bumped into someone you knew from your university days. To say your husband was jealous would be an understatement.

Note: This is the first time I wrote smut...hope you'll like it!!

Disclaimer: The following content is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. You're responsible for the content you consume.

You're standing on the marble floor of one of the biggest hotel around the world, with your mask in place, and your hand gliding over the slightly wrinkled part of your beautiful red dress, attempting to straighten it.

You're at a Masquerade Gala today, your 'husband' nowhere in sight. He did say he's going to be late—well, technically, his secretary did—but you still felt nervous and out of place. You looked around, everyone wearing a mask, but you're sure that these people are very important people, just like your husband.

You're husband is the young CEO of a big food company, passed down to him by his father, who retired early to 'enjoy the rest of his life'. You, on the other hand, is the heir to your mother's famous fashion brand.

You both never really did anything like other couples do, because your marriage was just out of convenience for both companies, but of course, you have to act like the perfect couple in public, under the watchful gaze of thousands of people who knew you both. Being the children of your popular parents certainly isn't as wonderful as others think.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone gave you a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, facing the masked man with two glasses of wine in his hands. He looks familiar.

"Want one?" He asked, pushing one of the glasses towards you.

"Thanks." You took the glass with a small smile, not wanting to seem rude, though, you wouldn't drink it, the fear of getting poisoned again made you wary of other people offering you food or drinks. Does he recognize me?

Back then, you were at a party organized by your mother, when one of her friends' daughter offered you a glass of champagne. Not thinking much, you drank it without hesitation, but it tasted weird and bitter. Suddenly, you had the urge to puke, and good thing you did, because it contained some kind of cleaning substance. Your mother noticed you immediately among the crowd and brought you to the hospital before anything worse could happen. Later, you found out she did that out of jealousy. Ever since then, you never ate anything anyone gave you, unless you saw it being prepared.

He tapped you slightly on your arm this time, waking you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Y-yes." You choked out a forced chuckle.

"Do you remember me? It's Joong." He confessed, seeing the wariness in your eyes.

With that, your eyes widened and you suddenly found yourself hugging him. He wrapped his arms around you too, smiling a little.

"Oh my gosh! It's been so long!" You were ecstatic to meet him again, your college best buddy. You two always hung out back in your univeristy days, whether while studying, or doing club activities, you were always with him, and him too.

He pulled away from the hug, chuckling, tucking the fallen strand of hair from your bun, behind your ear.

"Yes, it has, indeed. We've both been very busy." That's true, after graduating university, you both had to work for your parents' company, not having time to hang out or catch up with each other anymore.

Suddenly, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. Startled, you looked up at the person, then sighed of relief.

Park Seonghwa.

Even with a masquerade mask on, you still recognized him. How would I not recognize the man I love?

"So it was true." Your gaze shifted upon Hongjoong who was smirking, looking at Seonghwa's arms around your waist then back to meet Seonghwa's eyes.

"It is, of course. You thought you had a chance?" Seonghwa's mocking tone with a mix of anger confused you. What the hell are they talking about?

Before you had the chance to ask, your husband took your hand and pulled you to the elevator.

You looked up at him while he's just staring at the elevator's door, eyes sharp, his grip on your wrist like steel.

When the elevator opened, he dragged you to a room, tapping the card on the lock. He didn't even bother to turn on the lights before pinning you against the wall.

"You think you can just flirt with whoever the fuck you want when I'm not around?" His face so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

"I wasn't flirting with him, I was just—" before you could finish your sentence, he buried his face on the crook of your neck and wrapped his hands around you, inhaling your scent then started planting small kisses from your neck to your shoulder blades.

"You're"—kiss—"mine,"—kiss—"you got that?" His stare made you feel butterflies on your stomach. He was so close that you can feel his hot breath hitting your lips, your body starting to feel hot too.

"God, I've been wanting you for so long." He uttered with his deep voice, looking at your lips then back to your eyes. His lips mere inches away from yours.

Fuck.

You couldn't hold back anymore. You crashed your lips to his, moaning at the feeling of his lips against yours. You felt him smile before he started kissing you passionately, like a man starved for days.

His hands started roaming around your body, hands touching every inch of your skin, leaving not an inch untouched. He took a hold of your hips, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. When you did, he walked over to the bed, gently laying you down with him on top, not breaking the kiss.

He unzipped your dress, pulling it down then throwing it somewhere in the room. Then, he removed his clothes one by one, leaving both of you in your underwear. That's when he broke the kiss to look at you.

"God, you're fucking beautiful, so damn beautiful, like always." He couldn't help but repeat his praises towards you, finally saying the things he failed to tell you before. He knew he wasn't a good husband to you, and you deserved better, which he, will become better for you. He was the one who planned for you to marry him, kneeling in front of his father, asking for permission to marry you. You didn't know the lengths he had to go through in order to get married to you, and he planned to keep it a secret forever. He would never let others have you.

He started kissing you again, moving over to your neck and all over your stomach, then he came face to face with your clothed core.

"May I?" He asked for your permission first. He would never do anything to you if you're not comfortable with it. He respects you above else.

When you gave him a nod, he gave you a kiss on the forehead first before he unclasped your bra and removed it.

He was looking directly at your eyes while removing your panties and crashing his lips to your wet pussy, finally tasting you. You moaned in surprise, feeling the soft pillowy lips of his against your bare core. You felt his tongue lick long stripes from your core to your clit, then he slowly put in a finger inside you. He started slow, gradually incresing in speed.

Your moans were like music to his ears, something he can listen to 24/7. Even the feel of your hands pulling on his hair felt oh so good. Fuck, he could worship your body all day if you'd let him.

He sucked on your clit then added another finger inside you, his other hand busy fondling with your breasts.

"Honey, faster please." You plead breathlessly. He was taken aback by the endearment, but it sure as hell made him harder.

"My pleasure, wife." He smirked against your clit before sucking it harder and fingering you faster.

He felt your pussy tigthen around his fingers, indicating that you're nearing your orgasm. He moved over to your breast, sucking each of them alternately without his finger stopping.

"Fu-fuck, I'm cumming—" your orgasm hits you before you can even finish your sentence.

Slowly removing his finger inside you, he hugged you while you catch your breath, his head on top of yours. That's when he pulled back and looked at you with a suggestive smile.

"Care for another round?"

Feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

[daechwitatamic]

Cinnamon || KMG {teaser} - coming Feb. 7!

(banner by @sailorsoons)

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny for Reasons), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k teaser wc: 900

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do better going forward, quick and prosey piv smut

teaser warnings: language, angst, drunkenness

a/n: beta'd by @sailorsoons and @eoieopda smooch smooch love yall

--

Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply. 

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu responds with a growl, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs. 

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek. 

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once. 

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you. 

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you. 

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaegerbombs did you do? 

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed. 

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help. 

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembers saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…? 

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then, he never said it like that, and you never pushed it. 

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed. 

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu won't kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protection from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better. 

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

--

Welcoming to the world the fic I have lovingly dubbed Cinnamingyu!!! Coming Friday, February 7th!!!

read the full fic here!

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter Four

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and puke mentions. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 7.6k

A/N : and here it is, the end... or is it? (yes, yes it is, no more cliffhangers, honest)

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Master List

Chapter Four

It all happened faster than you could think. You moved with a speed you never knew that you possessed, pushing him away with a strength that, in the moment, felt superhuman.

You heard the startled oof as he hit the floor, but you were already halfway to the door before he found his voice and managed to call after you, demanding that you wait, that you stop.

You didn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop.

You felt sick and you needed to get out, your hands desperately pulled your clothes and mask back into place as you tumbled through the door. Turning, you slammed into the solid shape of Rocky and felt his hands on your arms. Concern painted his face as you looked up at him.

“You okay? What happened? Did he try somethin’?” 

You shook your head, lifting your hand to cover your mouth as the churning in your stomach got worse.

“No, I - I feel - I’m gonna be sick...” was all you managed.

Rocky released his hold on you and let you stagger away, rushing back to the safety of the locker room, knowing that Billy wouldn’t be able to get to you in there. You crashed into a bathroom stall, ignoring the pain as your knees hit the cold tiles and you started to wretch, tears spilling from your eyes as you emptied your stomach.

Awkward sobs started to slip out as you gripped the toilet bowl for dear life, knowing that your whole life was in ruins.

You weren’t sure how much time passed but, eventually, you felt a hand on your back. Turning, your bleary eyes fixed on Val, who no doubt wanted to know why you’d just run out on a customer like the room was on fire. Her fingers slipped the mask from your face and she cupped your cheek for a second before pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. 

“Please don’t tell me you’ve caught whatever Tomasina had last week,” she said before pulling back from you and offering you a bottle of water.

“I - I don’t know, maybe it was just something I ate,” you answered weakly.

Val’s gaze shifted from you to the toilet. “It doesn’t look like you ate all that much.”

You weren’t sure why, but her concern just made you feel worse. It didn’t feel like you deserved concern or compassion after what you’d done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shame filling your voice.

“What are you sorry for?” 

“Walking out on a customer,” you answered before forcing yourself to take a small drink and instantly regretting it when your stomach started to turn again.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been taken care of.”

You didn’t know what that meant, and you didn’t dare ask. You were just glad that she wasn’t angry with you - that had to mean that Billy hadn’t told her anything.

“Is he... still here?”

“No, he left - though he did ask me to tell you that he hopes you feel better soon.”

Silence fell as you tried to process it.

Of course he hadn’t said anything to Val - he was probably too embarrassed, too humiliated to tell anyone. No, he was probably saving his ire for the next time he saw you, tomorrow morning at Anvil.

Your head turned back to the toilet bowl at the thought, but you managed to keep yourself from throwing up again with some deep, calming breaths.

“I’m going to call you a taxi to take you home, but you’re gonna need to take a few days to get over whatever this is before you come back, okay? I can’t have anyone else catching it and needing to call out sick. I’m not running a plague ship,” Val said, offering you her hand.

At any other time you might have objected, knowing just how much you needed the money, but you stayed silent. Staying away was for the best, it’d give you some time to deal with what had happened and time to look for a new day job.

Your legs shook and protested as you got to your feet, grabbing some paper to wipe your mouth before flushing the toilet.

Getting changed back into your clothes and leaving The Red Ribbon was something of a blur; Rocky insisted on escorting you in the elevator and seeing you to the back of a waiting taxi, all the while telling you to call him if you needed anything.

It wasn’t long before you were staggering awkwardly up the steps to your apartment, feeling ready to drop at any second. It was a miracle that you managed to stay on your feet long enough to reach the mattress on the floor that served as your bed.

You dropped, silently telling yourself that you’d shower and change into your pyjamas after you’d rested your eyes for a few minutes. But once you were down, you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to move. It all just seemed pointless. 

And then the tears started.

It got so bad that you weren’t even sure why you were crying; because you were mortified by what had happened? Because you were definitely going to lose your job at Anvil? Because he was going to yell the next time he saw you? Or because you’d let yourself feel something and he’d never trust you or let you near him again?

The ache in your chest only got worse as you sobbed through awkward, gasped breaths, until you started to hyperventilate. 

At some point, late in the night, you fell asleep.

When your alarm woke you, you felt worse than ever, like your head was stuffed full of cotton wool. You were shivering and uncomfortable, your jeans biting into your waist and the underwire from your bra stabbing you. But it was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, in your heart. 

In the cold light of day, you felt worse than ever; for what you’d done and how you’d allowed yourself to feel. It had been careless, stupid, selfish. 

Your second alarm started to sound but, for the longest time, you couldn’t even force yourself to move to start your day. And, when you did finally manage to lift yourself off the bed, it was only to reach for your bag and pull out your phone. 

You hadn’t bothered to turn it back on since taking it out of your locker last night but, the moment you did, you were inundated with a barrage of missed calls and messages, all from the same contact; Mr Russo.

Answer your phone.

Please.

I just want to know what’s going on.

Please, I just want to talk.

I just want to understand.

Pick up your fucking phone.

There were voicemails too, six of them, but after hearing the first you didn’t have the courage to listen to the rest.

‘Look, can you please just answer your phone? I just want to talk... I - I want to know what the fuck is going on. Why are you doing this? Why did you do any of this? I don’t get it. Just - fuck - please just tell me what this is?’

You couldn’t tell from his tone exactly how he was feeling, but you’d never heard Billy Russo use the word please that many times before. You stopped listening just as the next voicemail started to play, only hearing the rasped word Bunny before ending the call.

All you could think about was that, in forty minutes time, you would be expected at your desk, and - you couldn’t. You couldn’t even think about what would happen if you turned up at Anvil; what Billy would say, what he’d do. There was no way you could face him, even  just to hand in your resignation.

Opening your emails, you did the only thing you could;

I quit. Effective immediately.

Addressing it to him and quickly hitting send. You turned your phone off the moment you got confirmation that the email had been sent and threw it across the room, so you couldn’t be tempted to torment yourself with the other voicemails he’d left you.

Then, you practically crawled to the bathroom, feeling sick again, but your stomach was empty and all you ended up doing was sitting on the cold wood floor until you found the strength to get up, brush your teeth and change into comfier clothes.

You knew that you should do something, that you should try to put the pieces of your life back together as quickly as possible, but all you wanted to do was wallow. The cold didn’t help, your tiny apartment feeling more like an ice box than a home. You ended up on the threadbare sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the window as the morning sky grew darker and darker.

It was going to rain - not that it mattered, not that you had anywhere to be. It was all you could bring yourself to think about; the bad weather and the cold. Any time your mind started to drift towards anything else, you felt your chest start tightening and tears welling in your eyes.

You didn’t think twice when the intercom sounded; your neighbours were constantly ordering packages and food, or inviting friends around, but never seemed to be ready or willing to buzz people into the building. More often than not, delivery guys hit all sixteen buttons and hoped to get lucky.

You pushed the button, took a breath and; “hello?”

There was silence and, for a wonderful moment, you dared to hope that whoever it was had already been buzzed into the building.

But then you heard him.

“It’s me.”

Your heart threatened to stop. Of course he knew where you lived, it was on your file at Anvil - you should have thought it a small mercy that he’d left it until the morning to show up, but you were too consumed by panic to see any of it as merciful. 

“Let me in. I just want to talk,” he said, tone bordering on demanding, but it felt like he was holding back.

“I quit.” You said. It was the first and only thing to come to mind, and it seemed easier than trying to explain why you didn’t want to let him in.

“I know you did,” he answered, “but I don’t accept your resignation.”

“What?” You asked, your voice coming out so small and quiet that you didn’t even know if he’d heard you.

“Just... let me in,” then after a beat, “please.”

“No. I can’t,” you said, trying not to give away that you were close to tears. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t want to see you, I -”

“Bunny...”

“Please, I’m sorry, just... just leave me alone.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, desperate to suppress the sob that managed to claw its way from you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said decidedly. “I’ll stay out here as long as it takes.”

You released the intercom button and stepped away from the door, suddenly feeling like a prisoner in your own home. How long would he wait, you idly wondered, how long before he realised that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted?

(But, Billy Russo always got what he wanted. Didn’t he?)

The door buzzed again but, this time, you ignored it. You ignored it for five minutes until, finally, it stopped and you dared to relax for a fraction of a moment before going straight back to worrying about whether he was still out there or not.

Rain started to batter your windows and you felt a cold draught leaking in through the crack in one of the frames and - surely he wasn’t going to wait outside in the wind and rain?

You made yourself a hot drink, eyeing the clock as the minutes ticked by; fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour. And the rain continued to pour and the wind kept howling. He had to have given up, gone back to his office, back to all of the problems that you couldn’t help him fix.

It was over. Done.

And, still, your heart ached with a loss that it didn’t understand. He’d never been yours, and you’d never been his.

A sharp thump on the door had you almost throwing scalding coffee over yourself, and a second had your heart missing a beat. Then came two more knocks, rattling the whole door in the frame. Slowly, cautiously, you crept towards the door and peeked through the peephole.

He was soaked to the bone, his usually perfect hair limply stuck to his forehead, causing rivulets of water to run down his face.

Billy knocked again and you almost jumped out of your skin, stepping back from the door as if you thought he was about to knock the damned thing from its hinges. 

He must have heard your gasp, because he spoke seconds later.

“I just want to talk.”

There was an edge to his tone, something you were more than familiar with. He was frustrated, annoyed. Which - of course he was. You’d lied to him, you’d let things go too far. You’d pretended to be someone he could like, someone he could maybe even grow to care about, someone unlike you, the disappointing and useless PA.

“Please, just go away,” you muttered quietly, 

When you got no response, you glanced through the peephole again, hoping to find him gone, instead he was leaning against your door, his head hanging forward.

“I’m not going away,” he finally said. “You’ll have to face me eventually.”

You knew that he was right, and the fact that he’d just spent an hour standing outside in a storm was testament to his stubbornness. 

Leaning, you pressed your forehead against the door and closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “For all of it. I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

“Please open the door,” he said and you could have sworn you heard a tremor in his voice, a shiver.

(He was soaked through, of course he was shivering.)

You knew what you had to do, after all, the whole situation was your fault. As much as you hated it and as scared as you were of him getting angry, he was owed an explanation. You took a few more deep breaths, struggling to find Bunny’s confidence inside of you as your trembling fingers reached for the deadbolt, then the chain and, finally, the lock.

You pulled the door open slowly, looking anywhere but at Billy as he stepped into your apartment.

Once he was inside, you retreated halfway across the living room, casting him an uncomfortable look that caused him to wince. His coat was dripping all over the floor, but it seemed to be the least of his concerns, his full attention fixed on you.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, trying to figure out how to even explain what had happened.

“Did you know it was me from the start?” He asked. “Was it all just some trick? Some sick joke?”

Your stomach knotted, hating that he could think you’d be that malicious even for a second. But you didn’t blame him for jumping to that conclusion, not after everything he’d told you last night about his business partner betraying his trust.

“N-no, it wasn’t anything like that. I didn’t realise who you were until I saw you at the Rockefeller Center, at the ice rink...” your eyes dropped to his feet, to the wet growing patch in the carpet. “Why did you go looking for me?”

It was his turn to hesitate and struggle for an answer.

“I wanted to find you, I wanted -”

“I told you it couldn’t last,” you interrupted, finally managing to find a shred of Bunny’s confidence. “I asked you not to ruin it.”

“You said it wouldn’t last because I’d get bored and move on. I wouldn’t have.”

That... that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say.

“If you knew who I was last night, why didn’t you say something?” He continued. “Why let it go so far? What did you have to gain from not telling me?”

“I - I don’t know!” Your voice broke and you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. “I was going to tell you but then you showed up and you were so upset and I just wanted to make you feel better -”

“Make me feel better by letting me think I was about to fuck someone else?”

There it was. Someone else. Not you. Because Billy Russo would never choose someone like you.

“Right, because that’s all it really comes down to, isn’t it? You’d be perfectly happy right now if you hadn’t found out. You’d be happy if you could imagine it was literally anyone but me, right?” You said, anger and resentment slipping into your tone. “Well you weren’t the only one who was disappointed. Have you got any idea what it felt like to find out that the guy who was so sweet and kind to me when he couldn’t see my face, was actually the asshole who goes out of his way to make me feel like shit at every opportunity?”

Billy was silent, taken aback by your outburst.

“I never...” he tried, but seemed at a loss for words.

“Every day, for months, you’ve yelled at me for fucking up - and I wouldn’t even fuck up so much in the first place if you didn’t treat me like shit, if you didn’t constantly make me feel like fucking up is all I’m capable of,” you continued, finally finding that spark of Bunny inside you and grasping it tight with both hands. “You wanted to know why I changed my limits? You. You’re why. You’ve constantly made me feel like you were going to fire me and you have no idea how much I needed the money I was making from Anvil.”

You saw him look around, finally getting a good look at your apartment, at the way you lived, and you could tell he had questions. The money you made at Anvil alone was more than enough to see you living somewhere nicer, and the money from The Red Ribbon should have had you living more than comfortably.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I don’t know why I didn’t stop you last night -” you shook your head, “- maybe for a minute I dared to let myself believe that you really were nice and sweet, and that you could want someone like me...”

You finally fell silent, your confidence slipping away again.

This time the silence lingered for thirty long seconds, and when you managed to bring yourself to look at him again, you found his face was an unreadable mask.

“You’re right,” he said.

Infuriatingly, he didn’t tell you which part you were right about straight away. You remained quiet, forcing him to be the one to fill the silence.

“You’re right,” he said again, a tremor in his voice as he shivered. “I haven’t treated you well, and I’m sorry. I’ve been under so much pressure the last few months that I - I don’t think I really even realised I was doing it. But that’s no excuse, I should never have taken my problems out on you.”

He let silence fill the space between you again, and when you looked at him, you could see the genuine struggle on his face.

“I never wanted to be like that with anyone,” he confessed as he continued. “That was why I kept coming back to you - why I wanted to find you - because when I was with you and I could pretend that none of my problems existed, I was happy.”

The wind outside grew stronger, howling and shaking the windows as thunder sounded in the distance.

“I know it wasn’t real,” resignation filled his tone, “but I - I wanted it to be. I wanted to be that version of me without the mask... with you...”

You sniffled awkwardly, still barely holding the tears at bay.

“But it wasn’t me that you wanted. It was Bunny,” you said, your voice becoming little more than a low mutter.

“I think that some part of you is Bunny,” said Billy, almost managing to force a smile. “Just like some part of me is the guy who was nice to you.”

Oh, how you longed to believe him.

“I think we could be those people... if we gave each other a chance...”

Your heart seemed to come to a complete stop in your chest and the room became so quiet and still that you could hear every shivering breath that he took.

“What?” You asked in barely little more than a whisper. 

“I want to know what we could be like out in the real world, with no masks to hide behind.”

It was an uncomfortable confession and, if you didn’t know him better, you might have thought that he was scared of voicing it. But, surely not. Right? Surely he didn’t mean what you thought he meant.

“I thought...” you trailed off for a few seconds in confusion. “I thought you were angry at me.”

Wasn’t that why he was there, because he thought you’d been playing some cruel joke, because he thought you’d tried to trick him?

“I was... to begin with,” he said, shrugging. “After you ran out, when you wouldn’t answer my calls, but this morning, I was at the office, waiting for you to come in... I was thinking about firing you, I had your personnel file in my hand...”

He took another awkward pause and just... stared at you, confused, like you were some complex puzzle that he couldn’t understand. 

“And, I realised that, if I fired you, I’d never see you again. That I’d lose you and Bunny forever, and I couldn’t go through with it. When I got your email and I knew I needed to see you, I knew I needed to do something. I needed to get you back.”

You shook your head at the sheer insanity of it all. Billy dared to take a step forward when he saw the gesture, an almost pleading expression on his face.

“This isn’t how I should’ve gotten to know you - I know I’m doing everything backwards here, but all I’m asking for is one chance.”

He was trying. He was trying far more than you ever expect him to. More than that, it felt like he was fighting for you and... you hadn’t had anyone fight for you in a really long time. But, still -

“It’s not me you want,” you said, deflating a little at the thought, hating that you couldn’t be what he wanted you to be. “I’m not like Bunny.”

Billy laughed.

For some reason that was so beyond your comprehension, he actually laughed.

“You realise you just called me an asshole, right? You told me exactly how you felt, and you didn’t back down. You made me stand outside in the freezing rain for over an hour - I think you’re more like Bunny than you realise,” he said, taking another step. “But you don’t have to be. I don’t want to know some pretend version of you. I want to get to know the real you. That’s why I went to the ice rink.” He hesitated, swallowing awkwardly. “And I want you to know the real me.”

“Billy,” you said, and it felt strange to call him that - Billy and not Mr Russo. “What are you even suggesting?”

“I - I don’t know. Come back to work at Anvil - or don’t. Let me take you out for dinner. Or let me see you again at the club. We can put the masks back on, you can pretend that you don’t know it’s me, that -”

“We can’t do that.”

You couldn’t, could you? You hadn’t even been able to pretend that it wasn’t him last night when you’d almost let him fuck you. But the other things?

“Why not?” He asked.

The million dollar question.

“Because you’re... you, and I’m just... me.”

Million dollar question meet bargain bin answer. You knew how stupid it sounded the moment it left your lips but, really, was it any more ridiculous than the rest of the conversation?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asked, finally taking a moment to brush his wet hair back, away from his forehead.

“I’m not good at... this. I’m not good with people,” you quickly continued when you noticed he was about to interrupt. “With Bunny it’s different. I have a safety net. I have a two hundred and fifty pound security guard to keep me safe and a manager who vets every single person she lets through the door, out in the real world I’m...”

You trailed off into a telling silence, letting your gaze drop to the floor.

“Who hurt you?” He asked, barely containing the spike of anger in his voice.

The last thing you wanted to do was tell him some sob story and have him feel sorry for you but, after all the lies, it felt like you at least owed him some honesty.

“My ex - not physically, and he wasn’t really bad to me but,” you let out a heavy sigh and found his dark eyes staring intently at you, “he made me cosign on a couple of loans and then he walked out...”

“What?” He didn’t even try to hide the anger.

“That’s why I need two jobs - and I can still barely keep my head above water.” You said, forcing another shrug. “I’m a mess. My whole life is a mess, and the last guy I trusted -”

“I’d never hurt you like that.”

And, some part of you was more than willing to believe him. In the time it took you to almost formulate a response, Billy had closed the distance between you, coming to stand in front of you.

“You don’t even like me,” you said softly.

Billy reached for you slowly, giving you ample chance to pull away before gently cupping your cheek with his cold hand.

“Yesterday, you brought me coffee and you asked if things were alright,” he said simply. “I’d been an asshole to you, and you still cared enough to ask. As Bunny, you asked me if I was sleeping enough and you got me to spend my birthday with my friends, and for the first time in years, I actually enjoyed my birthday. You didn’t have to do any of that, but you did because you’re a good person.”

You stared at him, completely lost for words, trying to understand how the bar was so low for him that you doing the bare minimum had had such an impact on him. But, then, you remembered the little things he’d said, that he’d given away; people only wanting him for his money, his mother abandoning him, one of the few people he’d ever trusted betraying him.

You’d given him something so simple, something so few people had bothered to give.

“Maybe better than I deserve,” he continued, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek, “but, if you’ll let me, I want to try to be worthy of someone like you because I do like you.”

“How?” You dared to ask, some part of you wanting to believe that what he was saying was real.

“We could go back to the start, take things slowly, get to really know each other,” he offered, fiercely clinging to the shred of hope that you’d offered him. “Anything you want. I just want a chance to see if this could be something.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t want to go back to the start.”

The corners of his lips dropped and he looked at you as if you’d just driven a knife into his chest, his face paling as he felt the pain caused by your refusal so acutely. His hand dropped from your cheek. You’d never seen him look so defeated.

It was unbearable.

You moved suddenly and without hesitation, surging forwards to tenderly press your lips to his in a kiss that was reminiscent of your first night together at The Red Ribbon. Billy tensed in confusion but quickly pressed his hand to your cheek again.

He was frowning when you pulled back, obviously not understanding what you were clumsily trying to tell him.

“Don’t want to go back to the start,” you muttered, trying to explain yourself. “I want to start here, right now.”

Your own hand moved, pressing to his chest over the damp fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his heart was pounding. For you. His heart was racing, hammering against his ribs, and it was all for you.

Billy let out a sigh, an awkward and relieved sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You lost yourself in his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the last little bit of space between you and wrapped an arm around you.

Then his lips were on yours again, his tongue running along the seam of your mouth. The kiss quickly became more passionate, more eager, until you felt the damp from his coat sleeve starting to soak through the back of your sweater.

You squirmed, smiling against his lips as you clumsily pushed his coat off his shoulders.

“You’re soaking wet,” you murmured against his lips.

“That’s my line,” he answered back, letting his coat fall to the floor.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you, pressing your face to his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“I knew you were trouble the moment I laid eyes on you,” you said between gasps of laughter.

His arm tightened around you, like he couldn’t even fathom ever letting you go again. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you all but melted against him. But it wasn’t long before you realised you needed to do something about his wet shirt too. So, slowly, almost cautiously, you started to unbutton it.

You were almost methodical in the way that you opened his shirt and ran your fingers over the exposed expanse of his chest. Billy stood silently, watching you as mapped every inch of cold skin with your eyes and fingertips, stopping and paying particular attention to each scar you found. You had to remind yourself that he had been a Marine, and that every mark was something that he had survived.

When he shrugged off the wet shirt, your fingers traced a silvery scar on his shoulder - it looked older than the others. Much older, something from his childhood. Your eyes caught Billy’s for a moment, and he simply shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said as if reading your mind. “I’m okay now.”

Maybe one day he’d tell you about the scar, and all the others but, at that moment, it wasn’t important. The past wasn’t important, just the here and now.

Still, you leaned closer and pressed your lips to the scar, and his arm wrapped around you again. You were content to pepper light kisses along his shoulder and up his neck until you felt him shiver against you.

“Come on,” you said softly, running your fingers down his arm and taking his hand in yours, “let’s get you warmed up.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Billy followed as you led, pulling him towards your bedroom but, about halfway, you ended up pressed against him again, kissing him, unable to stop yourself. You found your back pressed to the wall right beside the bedroom door, his hands pulling off your sweater.

“Now we’re even,” he said, smiling against your lips.

Playfully, you shook your head and quickly started to undo his belt and pants, forcing him to awkwardly kick them off, along with his shoes. Then you were moving again, pulling him into the room and towards bed.

He caught the flicker of embarrassment on your face at the mattress on the floor, at the mostly empty room, at the whole sorry state of your life, and he quickly kissed you again, silencing every terrible thought in your head.

“If you think I care about anything other than getting you naked right now, you’re sorely mistaken,” he muttered, before delivering a playful nip to your bottom lip.

“Oh, you want me naked, do you?” You answered back.

“I do.”

“And, I suppose you’re the sort of man who always has to get what he wants, aren’t you?”

“You’re learning quickly, Bunny.”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer back and continue your little game, his lips covered yours again and his fingers started to push your loose fitting sweatpants down your legs. You stepped out of them as he continued to walk you backwards, towards the mattress that served as your bed until you felt it at your heels.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back beneath Billy, his body pressing you down into the mattress, your legs tangled with his. 

Fingertips raked down his back, following the ridges of his spine as you pulled him closer, losing yourself under the weight of him and the want that had been building in you over the last week and a half, You wanted to suffocate on his lips while you were crushed beneath him, you wanted and wanted and wanted.

When he pulled from the kiss, gasping for breath, your lips chased his, not wanting even a second of reprieve from him. And, the way he looked down at you, his dark eyes turning incredibly soft, was almost enough to make your heart stop beating.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly, shaking his head, confused. “How have you been in front of me all of this time but I’ve only just noticed?”

“I seem to remember you noticing my ass pretty quickly.”

Billy laughed and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, a tender gesture that made you melt inside.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” he said. “That grey skirt you wear for work sometimes...”

“Mr Russo!” You gasped, feigning indignation. “Are you saying you’ve been checking out my ass at work?”

It shouldn’t have been the huge confidence boost that it was but, to think he’d noticed you that way before seeing you in the revealing bodysuit at The Red Ribbon did make you feel better about yourself.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I don’t appreciate the days you wear your charcoal suit...” you added after a beat.

“You mean you’ve been checking out your asshole boss?”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his lips to yours. “He might be an asshole, but he’s a handsome asshole.”

You swallowed his laughter with your lips, kissing him as you squirmed beneath him, pulling your leg from between his so his hips were nestled between your thighs. Billy took the opportunity to shift closer to you, pressing down and - fuck, you swore into the kiss at the feeling of his hard cock against you.

He took advantage of your moment of shock and started trailing kisses down your neck, grazing his teeth over your collarbone and sinking lower still. You arched your back as he reached behind you, letting him relieve you of your bra. 

The sound he made, the low rumbling in the back of his throat at the sight of your exposed breasts should have been criminal. It caused a heat to lick through your body, shooting down your spine to your core and had you clenching around nothing.

Your head fell back on the pillow as he took his time acquainting himself with your tits, his cold hands quickly warming as he alternated between groping and kissing, paying particular attention to the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Billy, please...”

The words slipped out as a quiet plea and, the moment they left your lips, you all but forgot about them, as if you’d never even spoken them to begin with. You weren’t used to this, you weren’t used to feeling worshipped and wanted. You weren’t even sure what you were asking Billy for but the moment his lips started to trail down towards your stomach, you felt like all of your prayers were about to be answered.

You bit your lip as you looked down and caught his dark eyes staring up at you just as his tongue slipped from his lips and traced a circle around your navel. A soft gasp escaped at the warmth of his tongue against your skin, already starting to imagine what you hoped was going to come next.

His gaze held yours and you didn’t look away - you were certain you couldn’t have, even if you’d wanted to. As his fingers hook on your panties, you lifted your hips, feeling your cheeks start to warm as you were completely bared to him. Billy slipped lower down the mattress, his hands urged your thighs apart so he could drink in the sight of you.

A desperate and needy sound managed to slip past your lips as his fingertip trailed through your folds and the wetness that betrayed your arousal.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve imagined this, Bunny,” he said, sounding as breathless as you felt, “you spread out beneath me, moaning for me while I devour this sweet pussy.”

Your cheeks grew hotter still, but any shy embarrassment you might have felt at his words was snuffed out by your own desperate need for him. Without realising you were even doing it, you shifted your hips, pressing against his finger, desperate for more.

“Billy, please...” you said again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the smirk that appeared on his lips at your quiet plea. For a moment he looked torn, like he was considering teasing you, making you really beg for him (and some part of you knew that you would), but it quickly became clear that he didn’t want to deny himself.

Parting your folds with his fingers, he bowed his head and -

“Fuck!” You moaned.

The heat of his tongue against your sensitive flesh was simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you down as he continued his assault on your senses. He started with long, slow laps of his tongue, teasing from your entrance up to your clit before starting to focus his attention on the swollen bundle of nerves.

Your thighs trembled and tensed as he alternated between slow circles and rapid flicks, easily starting to push you towards orgasm.

Billy groaned against you and you felt the vibrations of it through his tongue. He muttered something - no doubt something utterly filthy - but you couldn’t hear it over the needy noises he was pulling from you, the moans and the gasped pleas, begging him not to stop.

You came quickly. Easily. You started to moan and writhe beneath him, not caring that he’d managed to push you over the edge so easily. But your orgasm wasn’t enough to stop Billy or even slow him down. His tongue sank lower, lapping at your entrance as it clenched and spasmed, lapping up your arousal until you felt like nothing more than a sloppy, desperate mess beneath him.

And, once that orgasm had started to subside, he started to push you towards another.

Two fingers easily slipped between your walls and his tongue returned to your clit, causing you to cry out his name so loudly that you were sure you felt his lips pull into a smile against you.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in his damp hair, half wanting to push him away so you could have a moment to regain his sanity, and half wanting to pull him closer and let him completely devour you.

His fingers set a quick rhythm, betraying his impatience. Your eyes caught his and you could see his need, his want. And you found yourself wanting exactly what he did. You wanted him to fuck you.

You kept your eyes fixed on his, biting down hard on your lip as his teeth grazed over your clit. Then he pulled the throbbing nub between his lips and you were sure that you saw stars as you started to come again.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, breathless beneath him as he started to move back up your body.

“That was everything I imagined and so much more,” Billy said, wiping his wet lips on the back of his hand before capturing your lips in a kiss.

One of you let out a groan - though, honestly, you weren’t sure which - and the kiss quickly took on a life of its own. Hungry, needy, passionate, both of you taking and giving in equal measure, building anticipation for what was about to happen.

Reaching down, you pushed his boxers from his hips, getting them as far as you could before using your feet to push them the rest of the way.

“That’s a neat trick.” He smiled against your lips.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” you retorted.

“I bet you are.”

Any thought of responding was quickly ended by the press of his bare cock between your thighs, the tip teasingly nudging its way between your folds. 

Your fingers pressed into his back and your eyes fixed on his again, wanting him to know that there was no doubt in your mind. You wanted him.

Lifting your head, you kissed him, gasping softly against his lips as you felt his cock notch into you, slowly pushing between your still-sensitive walls until he was buried to the hilt. Your head dropped back onto the pillow, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by all of the thoughts and feelings currently racing around inside of you.

Billy looked down at you, seeming equally lost in the moment, stock-still as if he was holding himself back.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, “I’m okay.”

“Not you I’m worried about,” he answered with an awkward smile. “You feel so fucking good.”

There was an endearing flash of embarrassment on his face and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning up at him, loving that you were able to have such an affect on him

“Hmm, if you keep making comments like that about my body, I’m gonna have to report you to Anvil HR, Mr Russo.”

Billy let out an awkward groan and you felt his cock twitch inside you. 

“Don’t,” he warned, barely biting back a laugh. “Don’t call me that while I’m inside you, Bunny, or this is gonna be over before it starts.”

“Call you what?” You asked teasingly. “Mr Russo.” 

“Bunny...” he all but growled against your lips as he kissed you again.

Finally, he started to draw his hips back and any part of you that wanted to continue to joke and tease quickly fell silent. He set a slow, steady rhythm, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it slid in and out of your heat. 

And it was perfect. You’d never experienced anything so perfect before.

Hitching your thigh on his hip, you let out a long moan, giving yourself over to him completely. 

Eventually he started to pick up the pace, easily pulling more eager sounds from you. Again and again, his lips crashed into yours, each kiss more desperate than the last, like he was trying to prove a point to you.

His arm hooked beneath your knee, pushing your leg up higher, allowing him to sink deeper inside you, and you knew that you were lost. You knew that no man would ever make you feel that good again.

“Billy,” you moaned as he nipped your lower lip again. “... feels so good...”

You felt yourself clench around him, your thighs starting to tremble again as another orgasm threatened to wash over you.

“Let go,” Billy muttered, “come for me, Bunny.”

And you did. You cried out for him as you shattered, your back arching off the mattress, your whole body feeling like it was burning with pleasure from the inside out. It was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced and, as you moaned and writhed beneath him, you felt Billy let go too.

He gave a grunt as he started to come undone, his cock twitching as your walls clenched around him, the both of you getting lost in ecstasy together.

Billy kissed you again, just as eagerly as every time before, kissing you like he was still trying to prove his worth to you when he’d already more than won you over, as the pleasure slowly started to ebb.

Minutes passed and the pair of you stilled, holding each other tight, neither wanting to let go for the longest time.

When Billy finally moved away, it was only to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Minutes passed, neither of you speaking, both seeming to just enjoy the close and tender moment.

“What happens now?” You finally dared to ask.

You got no answer and soon realised that he’d fallen asleep snuggled up beside you. 

You didn’t have the heart to wake him, knowing that he needed the rest.

It could wait. 

Everything could wait.

The only thing that mattered was the moment, everything else could be figured out later.

For a few sweet minutes, you watched him sleep, gently running your fingers through his hair. But, exhausted by the drama of the last few days, you shifted closer and closed your eyes, and soon fell asleep in his arms.

A/N : I mean, it's not technically a cliffhanger, it's more of an open sort of ending??😂 I know I say this every time I finish something, but maybe one day I'll come back to this. But, I don't know, I feel like with this ending everyone can have their own idea of how things play out. I enjoyed this though and I enjoyed the challenge of trying to write a more contained story. idk if anyone has noticed this about me but everything I write tends to end up really long, so it was nice to play around with a more straight forward plot? Anyway. I hope everyone enjoys this ending and the fact that Billy is finally getting some sleep.

If you've not voted for what I'm going to write next the poll is here!!! I have no idea what's going on or what's winning and it's a little terrifying. (71 people have voted so far and that's completely mindblowing, so thanks for that!)

In other news, next week I will be posting a cute little one-shot follow-up to Catch Me if You Can. I'm not going to tag everyone who was on the original tag list because it feels awkward and weird to tag people on something I finished almost a year ago. But I'll tag the people who've asked to be tagged on all the Billy stuff.

Anyway hope you all have a great week, and thank you so much for all the love and support you've shown this story!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @theendofthematerialgworl

@super-clearlysaltybouquet @danzer8705 @benbarnesprettygurl @themorriganisamonster @watersquirtpewpewboomm

[55sturn]

✮ TALKING TO THE MOON

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [ past tense ]

synopsis: in which it’s been a year since you last stepped foot in boston after the devastating events of the last year, but as the moon grows full, you find yourself having a peaceful conversation with it.

warnings: swearing, lots of crying, angst with absolutely no comfort, major character death, minor mention of someone shooting up a gas station, mentions of puke+bile, death of a pet.

THIRD PERSON POV

it’s been exactly a year since you’ve been back in boston.

twelve months. fifty two weeks. three hundred sixty five days. eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours. five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes, since you’ve been back home.

the last year has been by far the worst year of your life. losing the love of your life, your very best friend was something you’d never wish on anyone. when you got the call from nick that night, his hysterical sobs hardly understandable, your heart dropped. matt had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time as someone shot up the 7/11 that matt was at on the way home from your place. when nick finally took a moment to breathe and explain the situation, your entire world stopped spinning for a moment, and the screaming sob that ripped through your body was something that nick needed professional help to forget. it was a sound that still haunts him to this day.

after his funeral, you up and left town, unable to live in a city that matt loved without him by your side, knowing that he was never returning. you, and chris fought a lot the few weeks that you kept in contact with his brothers for, chris tried so hard to blame you. saying that if you had just told matt to stay at yours a little bit longer, he’d still be alive. but you tried to explain that matt wanted to go home because it was jimmy’s birthday the next day and all the triplets wanted to make their dad breakfast.

no matter how the story was spun, one of you kept pointing the finger at the other. but logically, it no one’s fault except for the man that took matt’s life, and the three of you came to terms on thing, you were thankful the man was rotting behind bars.

but you’ve been in therapy for a year, and your therapist suggested taking a trip back home in attempt to heal some of the residual anger and pain lingering in your heart and clinging to your soul. you had begged her to help you find peace with the situation and this was her only solution. and after fighting it for three sessions, you finally agreed to return to boston on his anniversary, knowing his entire family would be home, and you wanted to make amends for leaving for abruptly.

as you stepped onto the road in front of the sturniolo residence, you felt your heart hammering in your chest, making you feel like you were two seconds away from vomiting up everything in your system. you took a seat on the curb, taking a moment to breathe as you looked at the cars lining their driveway and the street across from you, knowing they were having a memorial for matt. you had been invited but you hasn’t responded, the invitation is what caused your most recent mental spiral. sighing, you pulled out your pack of cigarettes, a habit that you had kicked when you and matt got together, but had picked back up about a month after leaving. as you lit it, you watched the clouds slowly shift, your head snapping as you heard footsteps behind you.

as chris steps outside the front door to grab something from the car, he sees a figure sitting on the curb, and despite your hair being much shorter and much lighter than he remembers, he knows it’s you. especially as he hears you flick your lighter. and he’s fighting a battle within himself, one side telling him to ignore you due all the pent up anger and blame he holds against you, but the more understanding side of him wins. he knows you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t trying to make up for leaving, and he knows you’re hurting too. so without so much as a second thought, he begins to step toward you.

“hey kid, why the fuck are you sitting out here?” chris asks, taking a seat beside you, watching you as you fight back tears, your posture stiff and rigid, as if you were trying to make yourself appear put together, as if you were sinking in on yourself.

“i’m terrified to go in there and not see him.” you whisper, your shoulders falling as you take a drag of your cigarette, chris’ arm wrapping around your shoulders as he nods, understanding what you’re feeling.

“that’s how i felt this morning. it hurt to go in there and not see him hugging mom and dad. i was also terrified to see you, i know matt is yelling at me right now for not being there for you and being such a jackass to you.” chris chuckling, but it sounds more like he was clearing his throat, the sound was broken and throaty as he holds back his tears.

“he’s probably yelling at me too for leaving and not letting you guys back in.” you laugh back, your head on chris’ shoulder, an unspoken apology being shared between you two as you lift your head upon feeling his shoulder shake. as you look at him, your heart breaks all over again at the sight of him sobbing. you toss your cigarette to the ground before pulling chris into a hug,

“i fucking miss him, y/n.” he sobs, his hands fisting the back of your shirt between his knuckles as you rub his back, your cheek pressed against the side of his head as you nod, trying to some form of comfort, despite how weak it’d sound.

“i know chris, i miss him every day.” you hum, unable to find something to say to soothe the man crumbling in your arms, you want to comfort him, to console him, but it’s so hard when you can’t console yourself.

“let’s go in, i know mom will be grateful to see you.” chris whispers as he stands up, his hand outstretched as you link yours in it, your worries rising to the surface like bile as you nod.

your first step into the house is tentative and timid, the house feels empty without matt’s laugh and voice ringing and echoing throughout it. and you want to crumble to your feet, being back here feels impossibly difficult to go through with. but you’re finally here, and that’s a big first step. and as you take careful steps towards the heart of the home, you feel something warm stirring in your chest, and it feels a bit harrowing too, but you want to see his parents, to comfort them and tell them you’re sorry for leaving.

but the guilt is eating away at you and so you’re ready to turn back as chris steps ahead of you, but you feel a warm sensation on your lower back and you know it’s matt guiding you deeper into the home, just like he did the first time he brought you home. as you round the corner, the first pair of eye you meet belong to nick, and a soft gasp is heard as mary-lou turns around, and she’s quick to tear up as you rush toward her, barreling into her arms.

“oh, dear.” she whispers as you sob in her arms, your body completely wracked with guilt and regret as she holds you.

“i’m s-so sorry for l-leaving, it was too hard and i know that s-sounds selfish because you’re going through the same pain as me, i-if not more.” you hiccup and blubber, trying your damnedest to get the apology out as she rubs your arm, her soft but heartbroken smile showing that she understand what you’re trying to convey.

“it’s okay hon, everyone deals with grief in their own way. some bottle it up and some try to run away from it. but you’re here now and that’s all i can ask for.” she murmurs as you nod, wiping your eyes as you walk to nick, pulling him into a physically silent hug, but the two of you share an understanding that transcends the need for verbal communication. and as you look around the room, you see everyone but jimmy. and deep down, you know where he is.

so with a wordless exit, you turn around and take the steps slowly, trying so hard to prepare yourself to open matt’s door. and you almost choose not to, but you know you need to talk to jimmy. so with a shaky hand, you turn the knob and open the door to matt’s room, and the smells immediately rips a new wave of tears through as you spit his dad holding mister wrinkleton to his heart with one hand, the other holding his head as his body shakes and you’re quick to sit beside matt’s father, raising your hand to his shoulder as he lifts his head, shock glinting in his eyes as you smile sadly.

just like matt, you were closer to jimmy than mary-lou. jimmy reminded you a lot of your late grandfather so you took a quick love to the man that matt admired with everything in him.

“i didn’t think you were coming.” jimmy hums, standing up and pulling you into a hug.

“i had to. it’s what matt would want.” you sigh.

“i just cant believe my boy is gone. every day i wake up and think he’s gonna call me and then the realization sets in and my heart breaks all over again, and the pain renews itself. it’s a battle to get out of bed after i remember everything. and for a moment, i think that at least if my boy is gone, i have you to call me, but that never happens either. and it feels like i’m living on autopilot these days.” jimmy sobs, and the crack splitting your heart in two feels impossibly bigger.

“i’m so sorry jimmy. i know i should’ve called, but i was so angry at the world. at the fucking piece of shit that ripped matt from me, from us, from this world. and i let my anger consume me. and that’s why i left. and i wiped every memory and reminder of boston out of my mind because it hurt so fucking much.” you whisper, and when jimmy pats your back silently, you know the appreciation and acceptance of your apology is there. and suddenly you’re left alone in matt’s room. and for the first time today, you stop crying out of pain and anger, but rather fondness. because being in his room feels peaceful. it’s the only thing that hasn’t changed since his passing. and it’s like for a moment, he’s okay, he’s alive, and he’ll be stumbling in the door, too focused on his phone or the conversation he’s in the middle of, with a big smile on his face.

but then you’re thrown back to the present, and you’re reminded that it hasn’t changed because matt hasn’t stepped foot in this room in a year. and he never will again. and it’s too hard for his parents to spend longer than five minutes in here without their hearts breaking over and over again. and you’re dropping to your knees, sobbing as quietly as possible. because matt will never be yours again. he’ll never hug, kiss, or touch you lovingly again. he will never laugh at your stupid jokes, or yell at his brothers again. and that rips your heart from your chest in one ruthless, swift tug.

you don’t know how much time passes, but when you lift yourself off the floor and head down the stairs to look out the window, the moon is high. and you walk out the door, standing on the front steps, silently admiring the moon. and for a split second, you feel warm arms winding around your shoulders, and you know matt is there visiting as quickly as he can, and as you look to the moon again, you take a deep breath,

“hey baby, i don’t know if you can hear me from wherever you are, but i hope you’re at peace, and i hope you’re safe, and i hope trevor is with you. i’m sorry i wasn’t around to say goodbye to trevor, it was just another piece of you that i would’ve had to say goodbye to and that would’ve been too hard at the time. but i miss you, a lot. we all do. but i made up with chris, i know you were pissed that him and i were fighting, given the fact that he was my best friend. but we’re okay now, and i think that we’ll be okay as long as we stop fighting. i love you matt. visit me soon, okay?”

taglist: @worldlxvlys @vanteguccir @sturnioloshacker @sugrhigh @bratzforchris @teapartyprincess4two @lustfulslxt @patscorner @guccifrog @muwapsturniolo @soursturniolo @solarsturniolo @raysmayhem-72 @meanttomeet @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @sturnifyed @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chriss @evie-sturns @sturniolossss @iliketotalk @bambi-slxt @nickssidewitch @nickgetsmewetter @inkyray @jnkvivi @cdbabymp3 @christopherswife777 @certified-chrisgirl @faeriedst @bernardsbendystraws @mattscoquette @imwetforyourmom @sturnioz @pearlzier @luverboychris @pettydollie

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

BACK!

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch2

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A soothing hot tea was just the thing to calm the nerves. All of your worries melted away with each sip. The amount of drink options that were offered for interviews was quite impressive. That's a rich company for sure.

Plus, the music was very relaxing. You had started to wonder about the perks of working here that the website didn't tell you. All you had to do was keep calm and do well during this interview. You had pracited for hours in the mirror.

You could handle a one on one interview!

Reviewing common interview questions, you noticed more people arrive on the floor. Each took a seat away from you, looking around in awe. In total, including you, there were six people. Not a lot for how big his company was.

"Alright. Everyone is here, please follow me to the interview room." A woman with incredible fashion said.

Your eyes widen in shock as everyone got up and followed her. You were last, feeling your nerves kick in. Arriving at the large room, you felt your fears sink in.

This was a group interview.

You were not getting this job. You couldn't do group interviews. It was hard to speak up and you often got over shadowed by other people. Your stomach was twisting as the urge to puke was starting to form. This was horrible.

But you had to be brave!

"Alright. I'm Lyla, normally I won't be conducting the interview, but there was a last minute emergency so you are stuck with me. Shame for the lot of you honestly." Lyla spoke.

You sat near the back since the others took the closer seats. Trying to control your breathing, you focused on the painting behind Lyla. It was a beautiful water color portrait of a foggy forest after a rainstorm. It was quite pleasant.

"I've read your files. I want your names and why you think you deserve to work here." Lyla said harshly.

You were practicing what you were going to say as everyone went their turn. You were going to be the fourth person speaking. All you had to do was say your name and why you would fit in at Alchemax. That was it. Easy.

"Next."

"H-Hello. I-I'm-"

"My name is Phillip. I believe-"

You tuned the man out, shocked that he cut you. Rolling your lips inward, you tried your best not to cry as you just repeated what you were going to say in your head. It was always like this. You needed to be louder. You needed to stop being shy.

----------

Miguel rested his head against the palm of his hand as he watched Lyla run the group interview. His focus turned to you since it was your turn to speak. It was cute how he noticed you count the people ahead of you and started muttering to yourself.

"H-Hello. I-I'm-"

"My name is Phillip. I believe-"

Miguel scoffed in disgust towards the man. Yes, your voice was low, but you were still speaking. Miguel hated it when people were interrupted. No matter, Miguel had to just stay quiet and let Lyla run this interview.

It was rough. You were being spoken over and interrupted at any given chance. Miguel wanted to see what you were capable of. You sounded so sure of yourself in the elevator. Hell, even shy people need to be given a fair chance.

"Lyla, leave the room for a moment. I want to see something."

-------

Lyla pressed against her earbud, listening to someone from what it seems. You were sunk in your seat, glancing at her.

"Understood." She sighed and released her earbud, "I shall return in a moment. There is a minor set back I must resolve."

With that, Lyla left the room. You gulped since everyone now had their attention towards you. Like wolves glaring down at their prey. You could feel your heart beat in your throat.

"Best if you leave now."

"No, no. She's making us look good."

"She's useless. How she got this far is beyond me."

"A pest if you ask me."

Unable to hold back your tears, you were quick to grab your paperwork. One of the other interviewers quickly forced you back into your seat.

"If you leave, it will look like we bullied you. Just shut up and stay seated. Okay?"

You were hesitant to answer.

"Are you fucking stupid? Do you understand?"

Nodding violently, you quickly wiped your tears. Their grip was harsh against your shoulder. All you wanted to do was leave. Leave and cry. This was horrible. What made you think you had a chance at such a fancy company?

"(Y/N), follow me." Lyla said as she entered the room for a moment.

You were quick to grab your things and leave. Lyla had you follow her to a separate room on the floor. Upon entering, you gasped softly as Miguel sat at a small desk, welcoming you in.

--------

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched your face light up to a familiar friendly face. He motioned you to sit and offered some water to calm you down. Once you had relaxed a bit, Miguel took a seat back at the desk.

"I should have warned you that it was a group interview." Miguel started. You sipped the water,

"N-No, it's fine. Um...I probably...should have prepared better," You muttered.

Miguel just smiled towards you. You glanced up, making eye contact and gasped. Your cheeks were turning red as you accidently dropped the water.

"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Miguel grabbed your hand, helping you back into the seat. He grabbed the bottle of water and placed it on the desk, "I'm sure you're still shaken up. You can relax here."

"Thank you....T-To be honest, I...I am a little clumsy too...Especially when my...nerves kick in."

"And that's alright. I want Alchemax to be a comfortable place for my-uh, our employees." Miguel cleared his throat.

Who knows how nervous you would get if you found out that he was the CEO. Your face might turn into a tomato at that rate. Miguel wanted to keep you in the dark just a little bit longer. It was refreshing to speak with someone who didn't know his identity.

"Here. I want you to organize this list of meetings for me during a one week schedule."

Miguel handed you two pieces of paper. He sat at the desk, watching you work as you read everything carefully. This was the first schedule that Lyla ever had to work with and it stressed her out trying to fit everything together.

"Done."

Miguel raised his head in surprise as you finished in a matter of minutes. Looking over the schedule you had made, Miguel was surprised. You had managed to work everything out and even give Miguel more time than Lyla did.

"Impressive." Miguel whispered, "Mind if I give you a few more tests?"

"I don't," You whispered calmly.

The next half hour consisted of you working on Miguel's meeting schedules with shareholders, business partners, etc. He role played some phone calls with you and everything else that Lyla would normally do for him.

Despite your shy personality and clumsy nature, you were perfect for the job.

"I must say (Y/N), I'm impressed." Miguel said with a smile as he grabbed your hand, "Be sure to expect a call from us soon. Allow me to walk you to the door."

Miguel watched as your cheeks started to fluster. You stayed quiet while smiling. Honestly, having you work under him would be a treat. It was going to be nice having someone so cute and shy working right under him.

"Um, thank you, Miguel....For giving me a chance," You whispered, stopping in front of the elevator. Miguel just chuckled lowly,

"No, thank you, (Y/N)."

Waving goodbye towards you, Miguel waited for the elevator to close before frowning. He stomped his way over to the interview room where Lyla and the five fools were. Slamming the door open, Miguel gave them all a glare.

"All of you, out. I don't want a single pathetic lot of you ever stepping near this building again."

"Wow, harsh much." Lyla teased as the interviewees nearly begged for a chance.

"I have who I want as your replacement."

"Oh? Don't sound too excited now," Lyla chuckled. Once everyone left, she glanced at Miguel, "That good?"

"Don't be jealous if I say she is better than you."

"Ohhh, ouch. That hurt," Lyla laughed and nudged Miguel's shoulder, "I can't wait to train her."

--------

You were biting your lower lip as you smiled from ear to ear. You weren't sure how, but Miguel was your saving grace. You couldn't wait to get a call from Alchemax now. Recalling the warmth of his hand against yours, you nearly squealed.

"Hopefully I get to work with him~"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @@reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla

[slowdrawl]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader| | 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist} {last chapter}

Chapter 6: Sweat & Sin | wordcount | 4.7k {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

| a/n | Buckle in because chapter 6 is long. This is where it really starts to all burn down. We're hungover, horny and done with Joels b.s. dbf! lines don’t just blur, they shatter. It's smutty, messy, and fucked up in all the right ways. hope it leaves you wrecked. Tell me if you’re feral for it, ‘cause I sure am. xoxo

" “I—I wasn't—” you stammer, but he steps closer, boots heavy on the hardwood, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Heard my name, sweetheart. Don’t stop now.” His voice is molasses-thick, commanding but warm, like he’s daring you. “Show me what you were doin’.” You know what, fuck it. I don’t even care anymore. "

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, pussy pronouns, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, Alcohol aftermath, intoxication,unprotected PIV, m/f masturbation, size kink, penetrative sex, cum play, sexual tension, strong language, emotional vulnerability, age gap dynamics, smoking references, dbf undertones, possessive sex, guilt, mentions of grief. series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory.

You wake to a skull-splitting throb ripping through your temples. Joel was right. You’re feeling it today. Sunlight slices through the curtains, white-hot and sharp. You roll over and bury your face in your pillow, It smells like smoke and shame; a faint echo of last night. Joel’s kiss burns through your head, rough hands and a growl daring you to forget. His “Go to bed, Bird” rings in your ears.

Fuck.

You groan, hauling yourself upright, stumbling downstairs. You’re half-hoping he’s there, half-dreading facing him—gonna be hard pretending nothing happened. But he’s not here, because he left you last night feeling like a mistake, leaving you feeling stupid for thinking he felt it too.

You walk into the living room. Your dad sits on the couch happy as ever, totally oblivious reading the newspaper. Your eyes drag to the coffee table and Joel’s whiskey glass still sits there, another reminder. The Cypress Hill t-shirt you’re in is wrinkled with sleep, pooling over your body, you haven’t looked in the mirror, unsure if you want to face yourself yet.

“Hey, Bird, you look like shit,” he says, eyeing you up and down.

Thanks.

“I feel worse than I look,” you reply, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Tequila’s never a good idea.” Your stomach churns at the thought, mouth-watering like you’re about to puke. You squint toward the kitchen, and the clock reads 10:38, at least you got decent sleep.

“You hungry?” your dad asks, brow arched, peering over the paper.

“Maybe. Probably should eat something, definitely need water.”

He folds the newspaper, tosses it on the table, and grunts as he stands. “I got called down to Dallas, some job’s fucked up. You know it was possible to install gutters fuckin’ backward?” He  huffs out half a laugh,” Oh, and the airs busted again—Joel’s gonna be here on his lunch break.”

You blink, relief creeping in, the coast is clear. “Wait,” you say, panicked, “Joel’s coming over?” You slow your voice, hiding the mix of dread and thrill. “Yeah, why? Probably be here soon. You cool with that?” He lifts a brow, probing your unease, but his phone rings before he can dig.

“Yup,” he answers, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. “Love you, Tweety. See ya Wednesday-ish.” Then he’s out, leaving you alone with the heat and Joel’s looming shadow.

Cool… I guess?

You grab your phone, and tap the screen, anxious for what’s there.

Three new texts.

(9:04 AM)

Karlie: Girl are you good??? Did that dilf kidnap you? Give me the tea ☕

You’d rather not. She’ll escalate to 911 if you don’t reply.

(10:40 AM)

You: Hey, sorry, I’m good. Hungover as fuck, I’ll call later xox

(9:08 AM)

T-Mills: You okay bird? We’re ok right? I didn’t mean to make u uncomfortable. don’t leave me on read

You’d hoped Tommy would let it go, how did you tangle yourself with both Millers in one night? At least you didn’t kiss Tommy. You just let him grind on your ass in public, then you know, ended up on his older brother’s lap. You replay last night again. The bar, Brett? Brad? Ben—the kid Tommy nearly decked. The truck, Joel taking care of you. The dream, somehow ending better than reality. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” Joel's mouth claiming yours, then “Go to bed, Bird,” like a punishment, like you were a bad dog.

Fuck him.

You tap Tommy’s name and shoot off a response without thinking. It’s probably the only way you’ll do it.

(10:42 AM)You: It’s fine Tom, must have opened my phone half asleep last night. I feel like shit!!! Remind me to stay away from tequila next time

He replies instantly like he’s been waiting.

(10:42 AM)

T-Mills: Next time huh? Round two tomorrow??? 🎉

Fuck Joel. Let Tommy fix this.

You know what, fuck it. Maybe more booze and Tommy’s attention will soothe this ache.

(10:43)

You: 9pm, pick me up???

You check the last text.

(10:30 AM)

Joel: Is the a/c rlly broken or??

You laugh out loud.

What a piece of work.

Does Joel think you’d lie to get him over? You don’t even want to face him today. Shame washes over you like cold water, maybe last night was just a big fuckin’ mistake.

(10:45 AM)

You: ???? i just woke up, don’t know what you’re talking about lol 🤷

A text bubble pops up, vanishes, pops up, vanishes. You laugh again. Joel’s got his foot in his mouth, and can’t muster a reply.

(10:46 AM)

Joel: k.

K? Really?

Oh, fuck that guy.

You get off the couch, and head for the bathroom to scrub last night off. The image of Joel’s face before he said “Go to bed, Bird” feels permanently burned into your head. His eyes scared, like he fucked up, angry at himself, disgusted. Rejection stings your eyes, but it turns to anger the longer you stew.

If he wants games, you can play too.

You hop out with a plan. Black denim shorts, barely covering your ass, paired with a cropped Rangers shirt from your high school slut phase. The one with the neck cut out, it hugs your curves, makes your boobs look fantastic. You throw on a cropped flannel, put on mascara, and lip gloss, tying your hair into space buns to finish the look. You head downstairs, the silence is loud, not even the hum of the A/C, just you and your thoughts.

You try to eat the sandwich Dad left, but your mouth’s dry—it goes down like sand, Gatorade helps. Boots drag and a knock hits the door, you’re even sweatier knowing Joel’s there, alone now. You ditch the flannel, wrap it around your waist, and let him in.

Fucking get a grip.

It only takes a minute for your facade to crack. He looks gorgeous, toolbox in hand, curls tucked under a Rangers cap, in work pants with a toolbelt sitting low on his hips. He barely acknowledges you, only giving you half a smile as he walks in. You catch his eyes flick to your chest as he passes by you on the couch though.

Small victories.

He heads to the thermostat, fiddling with wires, ignoring you like you’re air. Anger jolts through you, tingling from your toes to your shoulders, but that toolbelt pulls it back to your core. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Dallas. Work trip,” you deadpan. Yes girl, give him nothing!

Joel hums, shakes his head, and then gets back to it.

You try to ignore him, but your competency kink wins. He mumbles about circuits and fuses, cursing under his breath and groaning as he works. You half-watch true crime on TV, but it’s no use.

“So,” you start, eyes on the screen, voice calm, bored, flipping to MTV, “why did you do it?”

Joel sighs, long and low. “Ain’t got words for it, kid. Shouldn’t’ve happened, was a mistake, end of.”

You laugh, bitter, leaning over the couch arm. “Cool, and now you’re gonna make it my fault? My problem? You started it, Joel.”

You stand up from the couch, legs moving toward him, face flushed with anger.

He stops, drops the pliers, and pinches his nose bridge, squinting. He locks his eyes on you—something unreadable in them, “See, this is why it never should’ve happened. You think I want this, Bird?” His jaw clenches, voice rough. “Think I’m happy fuckin’ everything up? For what? This?” You can hear grief crack through his voice.

“So answer my damn question. Why’d you kiss me?” you repeat, firm, smooth, the anger outweighing the anxiety in your words. 

“I don’t know, kid” he sighs, pain clear. “Because I’m weak. I’m fuckin’ weak and you…” He stops, eyes raking you, shaking his head, fists balled.

“You what?” you press, voice low and cutting, walking closer. “Just say it. You wanted it, Joel. Don’t blame me.”

“Wanted it? I’m fuckin’ haunted by it, Bird, by you.” It comes out as a snarl, his eyes glazed with shouldn’t and can’t.

You’re in his face now, “Then why’d you come here? You could’ve just said no to him.”

He grabs your shoulders and spins you, your back hits against the wall. His voice is a jagged whisper, “Because you’re a goddamn curse. I hate you for this. I hate me, but I can’t fuckin stop.” His mouth crashes down, rough, hungry, swallowing your gasp. His free hand finds your shirt hem, fingers searing your skin.

You lean in, tangling into him, hands grasping fabric, pulling closer. You’d crawl into his ribcage if he’d let you. He pushes back, caging you against the wall. Your head spins. You buck your hips, desperation met with metal and leather. You unbuckle his toolbelt mid-kiss. It crashes, tools scattering, narrowly missing your feet.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me,” Joel groans into your throat, panting. His mouth bruises your jaw, and trails fire down your neck, boot forcing your feet apart. “Tell me no,” he rasps, voice breaking, shifting his body weight to the knee that’s flush against you. His fingers hit your shorts’ waistband.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t, you can’t. You’ve never wanted something so badly before in your damn life. Your breath hitches as his hand slips under, grazing your skin, teasing the edge of your underwear, slow and deliberate, heat pooling low. He’s relentless, his teeth on your collarbone, one hand pinning your hips, the other circling where you’re soaked until your legs tremble.

“Joel,” you choke, arching into him.

“Fuckin’ say it, Bird,” he growls against your chest.

His touch intensifies, fingers teasing your entrance, barely dipping in. You gasp, “please” slipping out, hips bucking involuntarily this time. “I can’t do this,” he mutters, faltering, at war with himself; he doesn’t stop, he just keeps working you to the edge.

You manage to whisper, “I want this, Joel—you, I need you” your pulse hammers.

“You think you can handle that, little Bird?” He drawls, “Huh? You know what you’re signin’ up fo?”

His voice is sending you over the edge, a whine breaking free when a truck rumbles outside. Keys rattle, Joel freezes, “Fuck.” He pulls back slowly, eyes wild, hands leaving you just as the door bangs open.

“Birdie, forgot my damn wallet!” Dad booms, stomping in.

You shove your shorts straight, heart slamming. Joel steps aside, grabs his toolbox, jaw tight, muttering, “Gotta fix this damn thing.”

Dad strides through, tossing his keys on the table, squinting—Joel by the thermostat, you flushed, leaning against the wall trying desperately to look chill. “Still hot as hell,” he grunts, eyes narrowing. “Thought you said you were on it?” He snags his wallet from the counter, oblivious but sharp.

Joel clears his throat. “Fuse issue, takin’ longer than I thought.” He dives back into the unit, tools clanking, avoiding Dad’s stare.

Dad hums, skeptical, he glances down to the toolbelt. “Right. Looked like somethin’ else was goin’ on when I walked in.”

Shit.

Your stomach drops, but he doesn’t linger, just shrugs. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” He grabs your half empty Gatorade, “Love you Bird— bye Joel.” and heads out again, door slamming behind him.

Joel mutters, “Fuckin’ close,” twisting a wire, glancing at you—gaze loaded—then back to the A/C. It hums to life, cool air trickling out, tension thick as ever.

“Done,” he says, flat, packing his tools slowly, stalling. He straightens, toolbox in hand, but doesn’t move for the door. You’re alone again, the hum of the A/C doing nothing to cut the heat between you. His stare lingers, heavy, like he’s waiting for something.

“Why’d you stay?” you snap, voice sharp, stepping closer. “Could’ve bolted when he left.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. “Shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, rough. “Shouldn’t’ve come at all.”

“Then why did you?” you press, anger flaring. “You’re so full of shit—sayin'’ it’s a mistake, then pullin’ that?”

He steps toward you, close enough you feel his breath, warm and unsteady. “You don’t get it, Bird. I can’t—” He cuts off, shaking his head, fists clenching. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Get what?” you bite back, staring him down. “That you’re a coward? Say it or leave.”

His eyes flare, guilt and want warring there, but he doesn’t answer. The silence stretches, taut, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re inches apart, teetering, his hand twitching like he might reach out. Then he steps back, and turns, a low “Fuckin’ trouble” slipping out as he heads for the door. His gaze burns into you one last time, loaded with everything he won’t say, and he’s gone.

What the actual fuck?

You’re left reeling, his “ruinin’ me” echoes. The air cools, but the weight stays heavy. You slump down on the couch, staring at the whiskey glass, twirling the stupid necklace, even after that it still manages to ground you. Your skin still buzzes where he touched you, jaw to hips. The anger keeps churning, with something else now—want, raw, and fucking unshakable. Joel’s a coward, sure, but you’re not innocent. You pushed. You wanted it too. You sit back down on the couch, flipping through channels, trying to keep yourself distracted from the way you feel. You try reading and end up scrolling through your camera roll. Oh, fuck my life. You find an old picture, of Joel, Sarah, and Tommy. All of them wearing lifejackets, from a camping trip probably 5 years ago, Sarah had sent you it then, but it feels like this is the first time you’re really looking at it. Joel looks hot, Tommy, oh shit Tommy looks hot too actually, “goddamnit” you mutter to yourself.

Heat pools low again, unignorable now, he left you high and dry earlier—bastard. Guess you’re going to have to finish what he started yourself. You climb upstairs, shedding your shirt off halfway, it’s too hot, and you’re too pissed. You click your bedroom door shut, shorts sticking to your thighs as you sprawl on the bed, the curtains are half open, letting a warm glow in. You put your earbuds in your ears, and let your hands start to travel, letting the quiet of the hose settle while you drown it out with Pheobe Bridgers, Motion Sickness blaring loud. You slip the shorts off, leaving you in just your panties, and your fingers hover. You place the pointer and middle finger of your left hand on either side of your folds, scissoring them back and forth—slowly. Teasing your lips, barely grazing your clit. You’re already sensitive, you were so close to coming undone earlier, you know diving right would overstimulate you too quickly to enjoy. You want to take it slow, and draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You can’t stop thinking about the way Joel was looking at you downstairs, the way his brown eyes turned black, staring down at you like you were prey. The grip he had on your jaw, squeezing your cheeks, craining your neck towards him. You clench your thighs around your hand as the warmth at the bottom of your belly intensifies, you take your hand away, edging yourself.  You repeat this over and over until you’re practically soaking through to the mattress—desperate, your walls clenching around nothing.

You hear his rough, baritone voice in your head now, repeating over and over, “Think you can handle that, little Bird?” Your breathing grows erratic. Finally, you give in, sliding two fingers down, spreading your slick around the sensitive bud at the top of your pussy. You roll your fingertips over and over, teasing your entrance. You’re not sure if you’ve ever worked yourself up like this—it's agonizing, but feels so fuckin’ good.

You close your eyes tight, imagining your hands being replaced by Joel’s, his fingers fubbing merciless circles over your throbbing clit. A loud broken whine escapes your lips—”Oh fuck, yes, Joel”—as you plunge your middle finger in, curving it to reach your g-spot. You add another finger, then a third—stretching yourself out, picturing Joel fucking you with his fingers instead. The warmth simmering in your belly gets red-hot, pussy squeezing desperately around your fingers. You buck your hips into your hand, gasping every time your cupped palm creates a vacuum against you. Shockwaves jolt through your clit. You’re not being mindful now, no more teasing, you’re chasing your high, holding back sobs, biting your lip so hard you taste copper, right on the edge. A low rap hits your door. What the fuck? No. Who the fuck? You pull your earbuds out, “Hello? Who’s there?” you manage to choke out, trying to sound normal, but you don’t, and you know the answer. “ It’s me.” comes that low, gravelly voice through the door. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm never wearing both headphones again. You snap your head towards the door and start to pull up your panties and the covers over yourself—not that it would help you at this point, you’re screwed, fuckin’ naked and afraid. “Thought I heard someone whimperin’ my name,” he says, as the doorknob turns. The hinge creaks as the door pushes open. “Need a hand?” You conjure up the courage to look up to him, adrenaline courses through your veins; it feels like your whole body is on fucking fire. There he stands, broad and rugged in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on you. His flannel’s unbuttoned at the collar, work pants slung low, and his thick cock, the one you’ve been dreaming about strains against them—girthy, solid, the outline making your mouth dry. You freeze.

“I—I wasn't—” you stammer, but he steps closer, boots heavy on the hardwood, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Heard my name, sweetheart. Don’t stop now.” His voice is molasses-thick, commanding but warm, like he’s daring you. “Show me what you were doin’.” You know what, fuck it. I don’t even care anymore.

Heat floods your face, and your pussy clenches at his words. Shaky, you spread your legs, tugging the blanket down, letting him see the mess. Your fingers were still slippery, panties soaked and needy, pulsing under his gaze. “Joel, I… I was just—” you whine, sliding them in your panties again, bringing a finger to your entrance.

He looms closer, eyes dark and hungry, his breath hitching as he watches. “Atta’ girl Show me how bad she’s been needin’ me. You wet like that just sayin’ my name?” Joel’s body weight shifts the mattress beside you before he rolls over to cage your body beneath his. Your heart is beating fucking erratically. His arms rest on either side of your head, completely silent as he moves one arm and trails a hand down from your collar, inching lower and lower. His fingers trace over your hardened nipples, carving an invisible line down your belly before stopping between your thighs. He places his hand over yours, like he’s the master to your marionette. “Oh, poor girl,” he coos—round puppy-dog eyes on yours again. “ Soakin’ fuckin wet. S’that all for me?” You want to speak but you can’t, you only nod. He guides a finger over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties lightly massaging your swollen lips. You’re still frozen, unable to form a sentence. You exhale a shaky breath that you hadn't realized you were holding—the faintest “please” escapes your lips. He keeps rubbing, harder now, dipping into the elastic of your underwear. “Left her cryin’ out for me earlier huh? Need me to fix her up?” his voice is low, drawl smooth—like honey. He lists his hand to cup your cheek in his big hand, making direct eye contact, searching your face for an answer. He drags his thumb across your cracked bottom lip, tugging it down, like he's trying to pull the words out. “Asked you a question, use your words darlin’,” his lips are ghosting your earlobe, whispering. “Tell me what you need, Birdie, I’ll make it all better.” You turn your head to face him, staring up through half-lidded eyes for a moment, before finding your voice again. ‘J-Joel, I need you,” breath hitching on every syllable. He slides his hand down between your thighs again, slowly moving your hand away now. Hand searching for the hem, hooking his thumb in, pulling your underwear off. He slides a finger down into the pool of slick between your legs, spreading it all over before he pulls his hand back. He brings it up and holds it between your faces. “I can tell, baby. She’s droolin' f’me. See that?” He rotates his hand, you watch as his finger glistens in the afternoon sun, and your jaw goes slack. Joel drags that same finger along his bottom lip and then sucks it clean. “Wanna taste?” He grabs your chin, tilting your head to give himself more access, and presses his mouth onto yours, gentle—swirling his tongue, exploring every inch he can reach. He lets out a little, strangled whimper. Did Joel Miller just whimper into my mouth? Holy fuck, he sure did.He pulls back off of your lips, you’re both collecting your panting breaths. He dips his head back down to the column of your throat, kissing along it, murmuring into your chest, “Sweet ain't she?” The room fills with stifled moans, labored breathing, and the creaking of weight under the bed frame. Joel is everywhere, taking up every thought, filling all of the space around you. Your head swims, hunger and lust flip-flopping in your belly. Nothing has ever felt so electric, so perfect. You’re impatient, painfully worked up, and you can’t take it anymore. “More, I need more, Joel,” you chant between gasps. “Please, make me come.”

“Say it again,” He says, pumping his fingers in and out, languid—slow.

“I need you to make me come.” You’re practically in tears now, his fingers circle your clit.

“So close. Try again, Bird.”

“Please, Joel, I’ll beg—I’m begging, don’t fuck around—you owe me.”

“Keep beggin’ for it, baby,” he says, voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you’re desperate.” He growls, shifting, and then he looks at you, all gentle. “Shouldn’t have left you like that downstairs,” apology soft, eyes guilty. His hands tug at his belt, pulling the work pants off, you see the outline straining against his briefs. You face him, grabbing at the waistband, tugging them down, you watch his cock spring free, thick and heavy against you. You pull him in closer to you, lips brushing against his ear. “Then make it up to me, cowboy.” His cock is even bigger than you expected it to be, It’s thick, heavy—girthy, and solid. Flushed pink and slightly curved, thank god you’ve been stretching yourself out for a while, because if not you’d be worried it would never fit. He groans, low and broken, ripping his shirt off, and throwing the blanket off of you, both fully naked now. He lets his eyes move down your body, “fuckin’ so pretty, been dreamin’ bout’ this for too long.” You whine and grab his cock, giving it a few slow strokes before moving even closer and lining him up to your entrance, sliding him up and down, through your folds, rubbing your clit with the leaking head, moaning. He grabs your hands and puts them above your head, rolling over on top of you, he leans down pressing at your entrance. “Sorry I left you like that earlier, baby,” he murmurs, voice filled with want. He pushes in, just the tip, allowing you to get used to the stretch before he slides in more. You moan into each other's mouths as he fills you up completely, inch by inch, slowly, It feels intimate, careful—like he's trying not to break you. He starts moving, deep and steady, dragging through slick walls, hitting that spot that makes everything throb. You're trying to match the rolling of his hips, hands move from above your head to his back, raking red lines down it. You wrap your legs tight around his torso, warmth coiling in your core, his hand is on your jaw again forcing you to look up at him. “You’re mine, Bird,” he whispers, breath hot on your skin. You shudder, breathing out his name. Your walls clench around him, squeezing his cock, every little sound you pull from him brings you closer to the edge, your pussy dripping as he thrusts, deeper, not rushed, building you up. His forehead presses against yours, sweat beading off of both of you, he picks up the pace. You bring one of your hands down between the two of you, rubbing circles. His thrusts get sloppier, he's staring down where you’re connected, watching you massage your clit, jaw slack, like he's hypnotized. He leans down to you, crashing his mouth to yours, all teeth and need. “You’re close, I can feel it. I’ve got you baby—let go for me,” That's all you needed, a tightness snaps low in your belly, and you come hard, soaking him. Your body is shivering as waves hit, you're squeezing around his cock, juices messy and hot down his shaft. Tears fill your eyes as you hold back a sob, you’ve never felt anything like this before. The intensity of the orgasm makes you raw, and emotional; your head spins. Joel groans, rough and low, “Fuckin' so perfect--mine ” his breath ragged, eyes dark with want.

But he’s close too. His thrusts turn sharp, urgent, cock pulsing. He pulls out fast, shaft slick and gleaming from you. He grips it, hand pumping once, twice—and he comes, thick ropes spilling across your mound, hot and messy over your trembling skin. He moans, head tipping back, cock throbbing in his fist as he rides it out, breath heaving.

Joel’s breath steadies, thick cock softening in his hand, cum streaked across your stomach. Guilt flickers in his eyes, but he grabs his flannel, wiping you gently. “Made a mess, huh, darlin’?” he murmurs, voice low. He fetches a warm washcloth, cleaning you with careful swipes—stomach, then between your thighs where you’re still slick. “Feel okay?” he asks, tucking the blanket around you, hand lingering on your arm.

“Yeah, Joel… I’m good,” you mumble, voice sleepy but warm. “You don’t have to go unless you want to."

He freezes, eyes darkening—guilt floods in fast, jaw tightening like he’s swallowing a blade. “I can’t stay, Bird,” he says, rough, standing up, grabbing his jeans off the floor. “Sarah’s callin’ tonight—said she’s got some news ‘bout school. I can’t be here, fuckin’ you, when she’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’ big.”

Your chest tightens—Sarah, still his anchor across the miles. “She’s in Boston, Joel,” you say, sitting up, voice sharp. “It’s not like she’s waitin’ by the phone—you’re just runnin’ again.”

He pulls his shirt on, belt clinking as he buckles it, eyes dodging yours. “Don’t matter,” he mutters, low, pained. “She’s countin’ on me.” He keeps talking, like he’s spiraling and can’t keep the words in, “Every second I’m with you, I’m lyin’ to her, to Kev. I’m here, balls deep in you, and she thinks I’m the dad she can trust. That’s what’s killin’ me.” His voice cracks, boots scuffing the floor as he turns for the door. “Lock up after me,” he says, quieter like it’s all he’s got left—then he’s gone.

You’re alone, body buzzing, sheets a mess. “We’ll Never Have Sex” by Leith Ross hums faintly from the forgotten earbuds on the floor. Too soon Leith, too fuckin soon, too fuckin late. Your phone buzzes It’s Tommy again.

(7:25PM) T-Mills: We’re still on for 2morrowr? 🐦🍺 Anger simmers beneath the afterglow. Honestly, fuck it. You decide to go. You text back,

(7:27PM) You: Yeah, dont be late! 😛 You toss the phone aside. Your fingers automatically reach for the necklace, “Seek the light” feeling heavier now.

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh @jokesonthem

[moon7jay]

omg I'm so in love with the way you write 💖

can you write first time with jungwon but his girlfriend is a bit traumatized by men cause of her bad experience? we really need gentleman jungwon yaay

I rarely write soft sex so bear with me if this isn't as good anon 🫡

DELICATE (y.jw)

MINORS DNI

Warnings : mentions of trauma, panic attack, smut, ig that's all?

Your mind went blank upon hearing the glass bottle crash on the floor, no longer intact it was shattered into pieces with the perfume it held inside gone to complete waste as the expensive fluid seeped into the carpet.

your hands shook as u heard jungwon's voice calling for u from the other room, your throat tightened and your vision started to become hazy, terror filling up your body, freezing it from inside out. You stayed rooted to your place, your heartbeat sounding too loud in your ears as u heard jungwon's footsteps get closer to where u were.

Panic was beginning to overtake u, your mouth gone dry and hold tightening on the dust cloth you were holding in your hands. Your eyes began to water and it was becoming difficult to breathe

"Baby what was that noise? You okay? " Jungwon's voice sounded muffled to you with the blood rushing to your brain. You looked up at him with distraught eyes as your boyfriend finally noticed the shattered perfume bottle.

His perfume bottle, to be precise.

"I-im so sorry, sorry j-jungwon I'm so s-sorry,it was an a-accident"

his head snapped up at hearing your trembling voice, taking in your shaking figure he took a step forward towards u. This action made u flinch, your trauma induced reflex working faster than u could comprehend, bringing two hands in front of you to protect yourself from the oncoming strike as you let the dust cloth fall to the floor and shrinking yourself in size as u begged for forgiveness.

Jungwon was stunned. What the fuck.

He halted his advance towards u instantly upon seeing how terrified u actually were of him. At the same time, he couldn't just stand there while u sobbed on your own. He slowly approached your crouched figure and took your hands softly in his own, removing them from the front of your face, revealing your tear stained cheeks, terrified eyes looking up at him to gauge his next move.

"I'm not going to hurt you baby" He whispered in a soothing tone, hoping it would bring u back. He wanted to puke. Seeing you like this was something he didn't want even in his worst nightmare. You thought he was gonna hit you? You? his sweet little love? he felt an insane urge to scream

Your form stayed frozen, quiet sobs and sniffles coming from your mouth as u stared into his love filled eyes. He loved you. This was your jungwon. He would never hurt you.

"I-ill buy u another, i-i promise I'm so s-sorry, please" u started crying again, fear overtaking all your senses, just the thought that he could stop loving you or leave u over ur stupid mistakes made you cry harder. Why were u such a loser, no wonder your ex didn't love you, no wonder he called you worthless, all u did was destroy things.

"Hey hey hey, look at me y/n, look at me baby-his warm hands cupped your wet face, breaking your inner monologue-i don't care ok? I don't care about that stupid perfume bottle, u can break hundreds of them, here, break this one too I don't give a single fuck"

He grabbed another expensive perfume bottle from his collection behind you and handed it to you

"Just stop crying, I love you, nothing matters more than u y/n, nothing, do u believe me baby? " He asked exasperatedly, his own eyes filling up with moisture just thinking about how deep your past suffering must be for you to react this way. His thumbs continually swiped under your eyes as warm moisture kept seeping from your eyes. But u were beginning to quiet down, nodding slowly,your body had stopped trembling and jungwon took this as a cue to finally wrap your heaving form in his arms. God you were so small, he felt a raging urge to hurt whoever had dared to damage your self esteem in such a drastic way.

He sighed in relief when he felt your arms coming up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his chest, sniffing quietly.

Jungwon realized that day that you were someone very delicate and fragile at heart. the fact that you had given him the privilege of coming so close to u even after all that u had been through, he thanked his lucky stars for that. You were his baby and he swore to always treat u in a way that would give u no chance of experiencing that hurt ever again.

His hands tightened around your warm, soft body, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings in your ears, letting u know that he loved you.

your giggles were like music to his ears, watching you like this was something he could do all day, just listening to you talk about random things and adding his own jokes here and there, making you laugh and hit his shoulder. This was all he wanted. You were all he wanted. and damn did he want u so bad.

He could not focus on what you were saying as his gaze pivoted to your delicious lips, he needed a taste and he needed a taste right now. He leaned towards you and cupped your cheek in his palm. you stopped mid sentence and stared into his eyes nervously, his face was inches from yours and the proximity was making u fidget.

"I want to kiss u baby, please tell me u want that too" He whispered and watched in amusement as you blushed profusely and gave him a small shy smile. A small nod from you was all he needed to capture your tempting lips in his own. The kiss started off as soft, but your taste was addicting as he delved further into your mouth, pressing his tongue against your lips, biting softly on your lower one which made u gasp in his mouth, giving him the chance to protrude his tongue into your warm mouth. Your taste was addicting, he reached deeper, licking into your warm cavity with passion. Your hands fisted the couch material that u were sitting on. The kiss felt so good. You had never been kissed with such want before. you were trying your best to return his passion by tangling your tongue with his own when all of a sudden you felt his other hand beginning to slip under your tank top, caressing your naked skin. Jungwon felt your body stiffen underneath his touch and he stopped his movements immediately, pulling back from the kiss. He heard your sharp inhale before he saw the tears gathering in your eyes. He immediately cupped your face "baby what's wrong, did I make u uncomfortable? " He asked softly, trying to understand your boundaries regarding physical touch.

He knew physical touch didn't come easy to you, it was something you struggled with on the daily and you and jungwon had come a long way from the first day when u flinched even from feeling him hold your hand and now u were wrapped around him like a koala everyday. There was progress and he didn't want to ruin it.

"I-im sorry, I don't know what happened" u whispered, a few tear drops rolling down your eyes. This was your jungwon, he would never do anything to hurt u, u reminded yourself. He cooed and shushed you, kissing your tears away

"It's okay baby, I'm willing to wait for u for however long it takes, do u understand me? " He asked and u nodded. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck and u stared deep into his eyes guiltily

"I don't want you to think that I don't want you, because I do " u whispered but jungwon shook his head, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"Never. and I mean it y/n. Never do something u don't wanna do just because u want to spare my feelings. I love you and I would never forgive myself if I ever became the person u have been running from till now"

His words made u tear up and u buried your head in the crook of his neck. U don't remember for how long he whispered sweet confessions and how proud of you he was in your ear until u eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms.

You loved kissing jungwon. And u guessed he loved kissing you too because everytime u both were in a close proximity, his mouth was on yours, desperately making out. But the more time you spent in your boyfriend's arms with his tongue in your mouth the more your desire for him deepened. Your thighs desperately rubbing against each other, trying to get some sort of relief from the burning feeling between your legs.

And u knew that jungwon saw it too, u had seen how he would break the kiss to look down at your rubbing thighs and his eyes would darken and he would kiss you harder, messier. But he never dared cross your boundaries even once. His hands staying respectfully above your clothes, caressing your sides or holding your face, never venturing to touch the parts of you that u hadn't given him permission to touch yet.

And you were beginning to feel so safe around him. Jungwon was your safe place, your safe haven. so different from your past. so loving that u weren't used to being desired this way.

His every action screamed his adoration for you, making you gasp at how someone like him could want someone like you. And as much as he wanted you, he respected you. So much so that he taught u how to respect yourself and your emotions.

u weren't used to that. u weren't used to this. and even though everything was new to u and there were so many new feelings to process, you were sure about one thing. u wanted to give yourself to jungwon. u wanted to feel him intimately.

"um, wonie? " your hesitant voice captured your boyfriend's attention from where he was sitting working on his laptop, atop the couch

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asked u, his eyes looking at your figure sitting in the middle of the bed in nothing but his shirt. you blushed at the nickname and played with the hem of his shirt, making it ride further up your thighs. Your breathing became heavier when u saw how jungwon was ogling at your exposed thighs. One thing about your boyfriend was that he might not be able to touch u with his hands but his eyes were always caressing you every which way. His eyes and lust filled gaze were the reason it had been so difficult for u to control your desires from spiralling like this.

"Do u want to kiss?" u asked shyly, this was the first time u had taken initiative in matters like this

You almost laughed upon watching how fast your boyfriend was shutting down his laptop and sprinting to come close to you on the bed

He made u lie down on your back as he hovered over you, this was the first time u had been underneath him and u could tell that jungwon liked the view

"U know I always wanna kiss u baby, always wanna taste you" He whispered before lowering himself and capturing your lips in his own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, opening your mouth to make way for his tongue, slowly sucking on it, making him groan into your mouth. The sound reached straight between your legs and u were pulling away from the kiss to stare into jungwon's eyes. His panting breaths falling on your face

"Can-can we.. " u trailed off under his intense gaze, suddenly feeling too shy to tell him what u wanted. He sensed that as he bent down to kiss your nose

"Hey, tell me" His soft voice filled with absolute adoration made u more confident

"can we-can we try something new today? " u said, ur eyes looking for a reaction on his face, you bit ur lip when he smirked in shock and joy.

"Yeah? U wanna try something new baby?"

U nodded, pressing yourself closer to his body hovering over yours

"want u so bad won, please take me" u whispered at him and his jaw clenched.

Jungwon cursed under his breath and bent down to suck on the delicate skin of your neck

"Fuck u drive me insane y/n" He whispered, his hands moving down to caress your thighs, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth at his touch but before he could pull his hands away u were holding his hand there by urs.

"I'm okay, I'm okay I promise wonie" u assured him. His grip tightened on the soft flesh of your thighs at your words and he started caressing your flesh.

A sigh escaped from your lips upon feeling his touch, his touch made u feel safe, it didn't make u wanna run away. U closed your eyes and tangled your fingers in his hairs as he sucked small love bites throughout the length of your neck, his palms caressing every inch of naked skin they could find, finally getting the opportunity to grope your pretty body.

His pulled away to gather your shirt on your abdomen, revealing your panties underneath. You heard him curse some profanities while he pushed up the shirt further up your body, revealing your naval which made u bite your lower lip. His fingers prodded at your naval and he looked up at you with a hooded gaze

"Can i? " He asked, his voice heavy with lust and u nodded without asking him what he meant. U just knew that u were ready for whatever it was that he wanted to do. That's the reason why u were caught off gaurd when he started licking your naval, rolling his tongue around the skin of your abdomen, just licking your flesh, making out with it. You fisted the sheets around your head as he continued his ministrations. It felt so good.

His hands reached at the back of your bra and he was asking for your permission again. Soon enough u were left in just your panties, sweet moans filling the bedroom as your boyfriend kept sucking and groaning around your nipples, his hands rubbing over your slit from above your panties. Your fingers were buried in his hairs, pushing him further into ur flesh.

"J-jungwon, please, please" u begged for your boyfriend's touch, feeling your body burning, getting flushed with wanton desire

Jungwon came up to bite your lower lip and groaned at how wet you were, your slick beginning to ooze out from where he was rubbing u over your lace underwear.

"Gonna give u everything u want baby, ask me" he whispered and u moaned at the way his fingers were still pressing on your clit.

"I-inside, won please" you were too far lost into your desire to feel shy any longer. Jungwon looked at you with want, making u drip more. He watched your pretty body heaving and squirming underneath him and his inner beast growled to take and take.

But the way your big, innocent eyes were still fidgeting, his heart felt full of love for you. you were quite literally his everything

"R u sure y/n? We don't have to do this right now, I promise" he kissed your cheek, even though you could feel his hard on pressing against your thighs. You shook your head and kissed him deeply

"I'm sure, I've never been so sure about anything before baby, please make me yours" You whined and jungwon almost came in his pants at the pornographic sounds u were letting out.

Jungwon wanted to eat you out, but the bulge in his pants was starting to hurt, he needed to be wrapped inside your soft and warm pussy folds soon. He lifted himself off of you and finally unbuckled his pants, running his hungry eyes all over your panting figure as he got rid of all his clothes. God he had imagined u like this, naked and pliant underneath him on his bed a lot of fucking times but the real deal was a thousand times better.

You gasped upon seeing his hardened cock and u unconsciously rubbed your thighs together

"That's so big" u moaned and jungwon nodded

"worried it isn't gonna fit sweetheart?"

seeing u nod in worry had him chuckling. He hovered back over your body and inserted his tongue in your mouth while his fingers finally slipped aside your panties and started rubbing your clit in the earnest, swallowing your sinful moans.

Your hands tangled themselves in his locks again and u tugged hard when he inserted a finger in you experimentally, moaning softly

"Fuck, you're fucking soaking baby, so fucking hot" He whispered in your mouth as u continued to squirm and take his fingers in you. One became two , two became three and soon enough you were a blabbering mess, your wet walls clenching around his fingers, making him curse. Jungwon's tongue was tangled with yours when he decided to pull his fingers out of you, bringing the slick coated hand in between your kissing mouths, making you suck and lick on your own wetness while he did the same. Exchanging saliva and your wetness while u both made out messily.

"Taste so good baby, u're driving me crazy" Jungwon groaned, pulling back from your mouth and finally tugging at his cock. Groaning at the momentary relief, precum oozing out of it's slit, just turned on beyond belief. He ran his cockhead over your pussy, bumping your clit with his dick, making u gasp and moan, your hands fisting the sheets as you prepared yourself for the intrusion

"Ready? " He asked, his eyes looked loving as they stared at you, asking for your consent again and it made u fall in love a little harder with him. You nodded with a faint smile and he smiled back at you, coming back to kiss u deeply and lovingly, intertwining his one hand with yours, holding it beside your head while with the other he guided his cock inside of you, finally breaching your entrance in one thrust, swallowing up your screams.

Your hands came up to dig your nails into his shoulders as jungwon pulled out and thrust right back in. snapping his hips against yours with passion. You both stared into each other's eyes, panting and moaning into each other's mouth as he made love to you, your bodies brimming with pleasure

"Feels good yeah?" He groaned, hitting your cervix head on, his cockhead reaching that spot inside of you which made your mouth fall open, too lost in the pleasurable stimulation. u could only nod, bringing him down to kiss you again. Your thighs were covered in your leaking juices, the squelching sounds making it impossible for u to hide your desire. u were impossibly wet

The room was quite except for the skin slapping noises that your lust filled bodies were making, your hips chasing his hips, trying to grind back and moaning out your ecstasy. The tight, wet grip of your pussy around his shaft was making jungwon hungry, hungry for more and he started going deeper in you,wrapping your thigh around his waist. His thrusts remained slow but deep, stroking your insides, making you throb and clench.

Groans and whimpers of pleasure filled the room, whispers of "baby more" and "so good" being exchanged between the passionate sex. This was heaven.

"I love you" u whimpered as you felt yourself unraveling on his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, making him groan at how u deliciously clenched around him, pushing him closer to his own high

"I love u so much baby, your pussy feels so good" He moaned capturing your lips again, fucking you through your orgasm, his hips snapping faster and harder

Needles to say, jungwon took u slow and deep all night long, u both not getting enough of mating and grinding, using your hips to pleasure each other. He fucked u. No.

He made love to you.

He made love to you like u were something delicate, something precious that he needed to handle with care.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Leads Sister-in-Law! 

Story Masterlist

Chapter 8

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader 

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: panic attack, vomit, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough until it bleeds), slight blood, mention/allusions to murder, very slight suicide  ideation, one (1) suggestive line, implied child abuse, Maria being lowkey creepy (again), uncertainty about loving future kids, please tell me if I missed any.

NOTE: while I am happy that people enjoy this story, please stop blowing up my inbox about when the next chapter(s) will come out. Or telling me I should hurry up.  Thank you.

NOTE #2: there isn't going to be any romance involving Roxana or any of the other characters and the reader.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/ BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACTION WITH NOR REBLOG FANDOM STUFF DNI (MAYBE ANIMAL BLOGS ARE OKAY BECAUSE THEY’RE CUTE). PLEASE DO NO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

= = = 

Roxana’s heels clack against the tiled hallway as she glides through, making way to her room. Blond waves gently swaying with each step, the young girl can’t hold back the scowl that tears at her lips. Brows furrowed, her thoughts were full of the recent events - the dinner. 

She didn’t mean to intrude. As a matter of fact, while curious, she had no intention of doing more than taking a quick glance - to see if what Jeremy said was true, that Dion Agriche was indeed having dinner with his poor, pitiful bride. 

Jeremy got there before her.

Hiding within the shadows, the boy was glaring daggers into the favorite son. So engrossed with the scene presented to him, Jeremy didn’t notice Roxana as she got closer and closer. No, the brash boy had announced himself before she could even pat his shoulder. Like a wild boar, he interrupted your dinner, uncaring for how it made him look. Not that he ever would.

And perhaps out of pity on your behalf, or sick curiosity to see how everything pans out, she showed herself as well. 

An hour prior to the incident Roxana and Jeremy talked about you, the newest family member. She wasn’t the one who brought you up, but rather Jeremy. Her younger half-brother had asked her what she thought about the situation. It was the first time he asked. 

‘Well… It is strange. I thought that father would have waited longer before finding Dion a wife, much less holding the wedding.’ If anything, Roxana had assumed Lant wouldn’t have married him off until he was on his deathbed - an outsider would cause distractions for the rest of the family, no matter who she’s married to.

‘Yeah,’ Jeremy agrees, a borderline sneer on his face, ‘but it’s stupid. She won’t last long.’ 

‘Shorter than a month?’

‘No, longer. But I’m not sure how much longer. Still, to be married to that bastard… She's fucked. Pretty sure she’s begging God to kill her already, or to keep him away and indifferent.’ 

The blond beauty stared at her brother in question. ‘This isn’t like you, Jeremy. Did you meet her before or is it because Dion is the one involved?’ 

He doesn’t answer immediately, grumbling out words she didn’t catch. ‘Watch, she’s going to puke in disgust soon.’ Blue eyes narrowing in annoyance, Roxana only becomes more confused. What’s with this sudden interest with a sacrificial bride? 

‘Jeremy,’ she says, gingerly patting his head, ‘This is the first time you’ve shown interest in anyone. Why is that?’ Asking him directly, she hopes that she’ll easily draw answers from him. But, for once, he doesn���t budge. It’s concerning. 

‘Xana, I heard they’re going to have dinner together later today. Do you think that guy will show up?’ Ignoring her question, he asks his own. A frown tugs at her coral lips. But seeing how aggravated he is, she decides to humor him. Just this once. 

‘I’m not sure. If it was on father’s orders, then yes, of course. His word is law.’ 

‘What makes you so sure he’ll listen to all?’

She blinks at him, taken aback. It wasn’t often she gets rendered speechless, especially by her own younger brother. But his response also amuses her - hearing his resentment towards the twenty-year-old was always amusing.

‘Xana, he’s crazy. It’s only going to get worse.’ He’s not making a lick of sense - It’s not like Dion wanted the marriage. It was just an order given to the obedient soldier. 

Before Roxana could respond, she got called away to Lant’s office, the butler bowing nervously after he brought the news. 

Returning to the present, the blond lets out a deep sigh, a headache forming the longer she thinks about it. This wasn’t how the story went. There wasn’t a grand wedding for any of the Agriche family members - the closest thing was when Jeremy kidnapped Sylvia, and even then, that couldn’t be considered romantic.  

Nothing in the story was romantic. 

…not like her brother’s marriage to you was, either. 

Nothing made sense and it’s bothersome. Concerning even, for the moment you entered this play, she became unsure of when or if Cassis Pedelain will show up - what if nothing follows the storyline at all, no matter how small? She knows he exists, she saw him at the wedding. Shining silver hair that reminds her of the moon and golden eyes that were filled to the brim with caution towards her family and the wedding, the male lead of this story exists. 

But you didn’t. 

Maybe in the original work, you did, as a nameless background character. Faith unknown and unimportant, you somehow stumbled across the stage, entangled in strings that now control your every move. It worries her - you worry her. Roxana can’t tell if you’re friend or foe, if you’ll survive and stay sane, if you’ll die soon, if she should consider taking you under her wing, seeing how you were nothing more than a victim. 

A sacrifice. 

But she doesn’t have that luxury. Ensuring her own survival was hard enough - how could she take care of a second person? Why should she bother herself with you? 

You don’t serve any other purpose than being arm candy, a woman seen as nothing more than an incubator by your father-in-law. She doubts Dion cares for you; during the planning period he didn’t act out of character. He acted the same around her, still the annoying son of a bitch he’s always been. 

…but, a few days before the wedding he kept his distance. Unconcerned with her presence, he made a few last minute purchases. Away from the prying eyes of Lant, Dion also added a secret guest - the doctor known as Ash Katopodis. 

She heard a rumor that he also sent the redhead to you instead of the doctor Lant had appointed behind his back. The fifteen-year-old had found it strange once word reached her ears, brushing it aside after concluding it was gossip for gossip sake. While it was bold of the servants to say such things, Roxana saw no point in punishing them for their senseless rumors - it had nothing to do with her. If they wanted to play with their lives with risky talk, then that was on them.

Upon reaching her room, she stops short of opening the door, manicured nails tapping against the door handle. She didn’t mean to intrude on your alone time with the brute. Yet she did and the sight of Dion in such a domestic setting made her sick. 

Disgust threatening to tip over the scale, it’s hard for her not to sneer at the mere memory of it. Domesticity does not suit Dion. He does not deserve it. Playing house with an unwilling girl, dressed in pure white as the veil hid her anxiety and fright laid within her eyes and painted on her lips. Scared and left hopeless as her family watched as she kissed the monster, powerless.

Your parents didn’t exactly look thrilled during the wedding. She remembers the way your father halted before handing you over to his new son-in-law.

The holy church in which the wedding was held became corrupted when the second Lant Agriche picked it out, Maria fussing over the details. Who sits where, ‘gently’ probing your mother into agreeing with the dress the third wife had picked, your makeup and hairstyle, the fucking lingerie until Sierra pointed out how weird it was for the mother-in-law to pick out such an erotic and intimate thing for the girl who was to be her daughter-in-law. 

During the ceremony, Jeremy had kept mumbling to himself, clearly done with the whole ordeal. Obviously, Roxana was as well, but kept a pretty smile on, greeting you after the vows were said and said her goodbyes as you were dragged away to the bridal chamber. Only to find out the next morning by Emily that you didn’t go there, instead led into the lion’s den that is Dion’s room.

How… odd. 

No… what was odder was that you didn’t have separate rooms. Emily had told her as such out of the blue, preparing her breakfast. She questioned it then, and it’s only weirder, more worrisome the longer she thinks about it.

She shakes the memories away. It wasn’t her life. She had enough trouble on her plate already - she couldn’t possibly add you to the list of her neverending responsibilities she’s forced to juggle. She could pity you, but never love you. Touch you but never hold you. Talk to you but never make a genuine connection as sisters should. 

She should stop with this foolish nonsense. 

Turning the handle, she glides right in, letting the door shut behind her. Emily had retired for the night, and the blond also ordered Hana to do the same. After all, Lant had given Dion another mission, and the favorite son had to prepare to leave in the morning, too busy to bother you. 

… why am I so focused on her…?

The moonlight lights up her room through the glass doors that lead to the terrace. With a huff, she sits in her vanity, and starts to remove her makeup with removal cream. It’s greasy as her dainty fingers spread it across her face, each action copied by the mirror. It’s quiet.

Her thoughts refuse to shut up, however. 

‘What’s going on with Lant…? Choosing a daughter-in-law from a nearly unheard of family? Do they have something he wants and only used this marriage  as a means to get closer? Most likely, but why? Not to mention Dion’s behavior right before the wedding…

A frown tugs at her lips, face completely bare after she pats it down with a face towel. Ruby eyes stare into the reflection before her, and Roxana only sees frustration and confusion. She can’t rely on her memories of the story anymore. 

She won’t be sure until the faithful day when her father kidnaps Cassis Pedelian, the Blue Heir. And even then, how could she be sure that it would be the same Cassis Pedelain that was mentioned in the novel? The same goes for his sister, Sylvia. 

“...things are getting complicated.” Standing, her feet take her to the bed and she lays on it, back pressed against the mattress. The crystal chandelier sparkles in the moonlight. Ruby optics disappear behind her eyelids, blond lashes casting shadows on smooth skin. The night is still young. 

A small smile of amusement forms on her lips when she remembers your earlier conversation. You had called her an interesting person - far from what others say. They called her lovely, a Goddess of beauty - and you? 

You called her interesting.

Still, you couldn’t hide the admiration for her in your eyes. You weren’t a stumbling fool and understood what her look meant when Jeremy went too far. But the most fascinating thing?

You listened to mental caution and drew a line, uncomfortable with her, with them, the gears turning in your head on what to do next. You even separated yourself from her without hesitation once the moment presented itself.

Regardless, you admired her in spite of your clear discomfort. 

“...I must be tired.” 

You called her an interesting person. In return, she’ll call you a fool. 

- - -

His side of the bed was cold, patting it as your bleary eyes and murky mind clear up. Still half-dressed, you ignore how uncomfortable it is. No, right now, what you are focused on is the way your beating heart is thrashing against your rib cage, how cold your body has become, beads of sweat building and rolling down your temples, on the verge of gasping for air. Did you just fuck yourself over? 

You don’t know what time it was - the sun was high in the bright, blue sky, birds singing their lovely tunes. The occasional footsteps passing by, the far off voices as the servants go about their business. None of them knock on the door. None come to ‘wake’ you up.

Or, if they had, it must have been a good while ago. Were you so deep asleep that they gave up?

“...He’s going to kill me, isn’t he… hah…” A humorless laugh passes through your chest, shoulders slumping as nothing but regret fills your head and chest. Are you going to be killed today? Or maybe tortured? Thrown out like disgusting leftovers? 

You don’t want to die. Ah, but what could you possibly do? Get on your hands and knees like a dog and beg for forgiveness? …no. You’re already pathetic enough, you don’t want to lower yourself even more. Fuck. 

“...Ah, fuck, what should I do?” Putting your thumb sideways in your mouth, your teeth clamp down on the poor digit. The taste of iron explodes in your mouth, teeth marks left behind on the now wounded and bleeding flesh. 

A throbbing headache decides to join, adding physical pain to the list of your suffering. You bite down on your thumb harder. It feels like it might just snap in two but your mind is too fried to realize this. The only thing you can think about is last night. 

Your husband was gone. Where did he go? Maybe he decided to leave you, seeing you as a broken toy he doesn’t want anymore. Does that mean he’ll give the least back to Lant? Is that why he isn’t here? To discuss how to dispose of you? 

The thought makes your stomach churn, saliva glands overfilling as bile starts to raise. You were given to them as a pet - as some twisted sacrifice, and for what? Did this family want nothing else but a new ‘toy,’ to see how long a normal person would last within these walls? What then?

If they decide to kill you, or if you kill yourself out of desperation, what would they tell your parents? No, they wouldn’t tell them anything to begin with. 

And your family wouldn’t be able to ask.

“Urk…” dry heaving, slapping your hand over your mouth, panicked tears forming. Your entire body shakes, blood staining the bed as your injured hand grasps at the sheets. “URK!” Without a thought you rush out of bed, slamming yourself down on your knees as you reach the trash can. All of your stomach continents come up, the foul taste of vomit coming forth. Your vision burns white before returning.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you heave over the trash, blurring your vision. You’re breathing too heavily. You look at the door a few feet away from you. If anyone was right outside it, they would have heard you. 

“...” You wait for a knock or for someone to burst through the doors with bated breath, your eyes shaking in their sockets, knees throbbing after the harsh impact. No-one comes. It is only you - alone in this room, a sinner who is paying the price. Must you go through this for a sin you’ve forgotten until now? 

The answer is yes. 

The answer is yes as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The answer is yes as you force yourself to stand, knees painfully throbbing as the flesh bruises. The answer is yes as your thumb still bleeds, teeth marks engraved into the skin. The answer is yes as your heart refuses to calm down, chest hurting. 

The answer is yes as you walk over to the vanity, the reflection of a face that doesn’t look like your own. 

You are a mess. 

You are frail.

The tears don’t stop flowing as the urge to vomit returns. Crystalline droplets catch on your lashes, ugly sobs and hiccups breaking out, your shoulders shaking as you collapse onto the leather stool seat. A sinner always pays the price. 

You bury your face into your hands, entire body jerking with each sob, each hiccup as anxiety for the future and present overtakes everything. This isn’t like you. But you were never strong enough to survive in an environment like this. You were pathetic. 

Seconds turn into minutes and maybe even into hours. Time is a concept that you don’t bother yourself with by the time you finally calm down, red puffy eyes staring into the mirror as the tear streaks dry on your cheeks. Some snot peeks out from your nostril, hair a mess, clothes crumbled and sliding down, showing more of your cleavage. Such an unsightly sight. 

Would he be amused with this? Snicker and degrade you as he reveals last night was a test and that you had failed?

Grabbing a face towel on the vanity desk, you wipe off the tears and snot.

“...Okay. Let’s… get cleaned up.” Your limbs feel heavy, dragging your feet towards the closet before finally, finally striping out of your clothes from yesterday. The articles of clothing pools at your feet. 

How much longer can I last here? 

Will there ever be a peaceful divorce? Can I divorce him? Would I be able to?

If the story events do take place and Roxana takes over the Agriche family… by then… would I have children…?

BAM!

Your poor knees-! At the thought of having children - his children - your body just gives up again, as always. That’s the only thing you’re capable of, as experience has shown. 

“...children… right, children… I have to give birth to that man’s children… children that will go through the same thing he went through…” Will you be able to love them, if they come into existence? You have to, they would be yours.

Or would you end up just like Jeremy’s mother? Horrified at the sight of her own child, refusing to spend time with them. Seeing them as an irredeemable monster that you would do anything and everything to avoid?

Chomp

Your thumb once again becomes a victim to your teeth, the imprint becoming deeper and drawing more blood.  It hurts, it hurts, it hurts- but as the thought of starting a family with Dion Agriche deepens, the more you need to find something sturdy. Your thumb is enough to keep you grounded, yes, it is, and no, you’re not planning an early funeral, visualizing the area you want to hold it, or the dress your cold corpse would wear, or your family’s crying faces -

No, stop it. This isn’t - this isn’t… this isn’t what I want to be.

 Licking the flesh wound, accepting the taste and smell of iron, you are not met with clarity nor bravery; just, temporary acceptance. This is your life. This was what the Gods had planned for you. This is what you have become - a wife to the future Black Agriche Heir. 

His first wife.

Despite the blood and saliva, your mouth feels dry. Nausea builds back up, gagging and breath becoming short. It’s becoming hard to breathe. 

Your lungs are being squeezed, throat constricted with an invisible ball gag - vision blurred with what? What’s this hot liquid running down your cheeks? Are you crying ? Again?

Something is choking you. Your head is starting to feel fuzzy, a pounding in your chest you can’t get. Everything is warped, shapes turning into mush, black merging with white, a hammer bashing against your head. Only the sound of rushing blood and a running heart is heard. Only the thought of death remains. 

Only the fact you’re now a wife, a member of Agriche Black stays.

“No…no, I - I - this-!” You curl into yourself, kneeling as your forehead touches the floor, hands interlocked around your head as your lower arms and elbows rest on the tiles. Sobbing violently, your mind crashes again. You were never strong. 

Not then, not now. 

- - -

“Young master Dion has been sent off on an errand; the dinner with Master Lant has been postponed until tomorrow, at six o’clock.” Hana informs you as she sets out your breakfast: oatmeal and water. Just what your now very sensitive stomach and nerves need. Did she overhear your little mental breakdown not even an hour ago? Or was this the usual breakfast for the residents of the Agriche compound? 

“I see.” You hoarsely reply, voice still recovering. This is a good thing - you don’t have to see the devil’s face for yet another day. Her news also answers your question; Dion is out on an errand and they weren’t planning to axe you. Yet. Hopefully never. 

Still, the curiosity of your husband’s duties lingers. You shouldn’t involve yourself anymore than what you currently are. Curiosity always kills the cat. So, you bite your tongue, deciding against asking her what your oh so lovely husband’s chore is… but, if you are to play the role as a wife, his wife, should you ask him once he returns? Like how one would greet their spouse once they return from work. 

Hello dear… ick, no. Hey, how was your day… no, next. Are you tired? Do you want a bath…?

Hana witnesses how you cringe but remains silent. Unaware of this, you continue to think of possible things to say, possible ways to greet him.

…or maybe you should just ignore the subject altogether. His business isn’t yours, so why bother?

Besides, what if he doesn’t like you ‘snooping’ in his business? But at the same time, he’s been acting so weird and unlike how he was portrayed in the story. So while that Dion would find your questions annoying or useless, this Dion may want you to ask about his day. Fuck, it’s all so confusing and irritating 

 “Hm. Hana, is there anything on today’s schedule?” 

“No, not yet my lady.” 

Not yet. What does she mean by not yet? Does that mean she’s aware that someone will interrupt your tiny bit of peace at some point today? Her short dark brown hair slightly bounces as she shuffles her weight onto one leg. “However, my lady, I could… tell them that you’re recovering from ‘last night.’”

Her suggestion makes your grip on the cup loose, dropping the glass onto your lap as water soaks it. 

“My lady! Are you alright?” In a panic, Hana grabs some of the napkins on the table and pats your lap to soak up some of the water after removing the now empty glass. “My apologies - I shouldn’t have brought up such a vulgar suggestion…” Her once collected face and behavior shatters at the drop of a hat, ‘concerned’ about your safety. 

Or was it for hers? 

“I-it’s fine… no worries,” your tight lipped smile only makes her brows furrow more and treats you gentler. Like you were made of glass. Well, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth… 

“No, really. I just need to change clothes…” Once she’s done with soaking most of the water up you stand and walk to the closet. Opening the doors you skim over the options. Hana’s footsteps stop right behind you. Why is it so hard to have personal space in this place…

Your gaze travels upwards and for the first time, do you notice the Agriche family's crest engraved into the wood. Bitterness explodes in your mouth. It seems that no matter where you are in this place, there will always be a physical reminder of where you are - of who you belong to. No matter, you tell yourself. Besides, this isn’t even your room.

It was your husband’s. And maybe after a month, if not less, into your marriage, you’ll be assigned your own. …why were you sharing a room with him to begin with? Probably to increase the chances of conceiving a child sooner rather than later. 

“... does that even make sense?” You murmur in amusement. Lant wasn’t even dead yet. But, you think, maybe he wanted his son to have a child so he could start to shape them into this tainted and sadistic mold ahead of time before he kicks the bucket. To ensure that the child - your child - would follow in their father’s footsteps. 

To see if they would carry the same air and expectations as your husband does. 

How cruel. 

“Hana, I’ll let you choose it; they’re all so… beautiful that I can’t choose.” In reality you’re getting a headache from looking at the family crest. Which just became yours. 

“...yes, my Lady,” she follows your order without question, going through the options. 

Not even a few minutes later she pulls one out. 

It matches your husband’s eyes. A brilliant shade of scarlet, it practically glows. A sheer black neck piece that forms as a choker and covers your cleavage but leaves your shoulders bare. Black lace is on the hem, flowers engraved into the pattern. The body of the dress is a solid scarlet. 

“It’s beautiful.” You compliment her choice of style hiding how the beautiful piece of clothing makes your fingers twitch and brings the urge to vomit forward. Oh, how horrible it is, to not even be able to enjoy such a sight. 

How horrible it is, to be born into this world after a helpless first life, a God’s mercy forgotten.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Lentil & The Blueberry (The Surprise, Part 2)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, NSFW, sex, fingering, mention of vomiting (for my emetophobia babies), established relationship, fluffity fluff, worried Emily has my whole heart Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Weeks six and seven of your pregnancy are underway, and you are struggling. But maybe not as much as your wife? Wildly overprotective Emily will do anything to help you feel better during your pregnancy. And I mean anything. 😉

Week 6: The Lentil

Emily had known about the baby for less than 12 hours, and she’d already gone into full Overprotective Dad™ mode. You’d slept in the morning after telling her, jerking awake to find Emily towering over you, watching with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Jesus, Emily!” you exclaimed, stretching. “You scared me!” You glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

Emily continued staring, a look of deep concern on her face. “I really don’t want to leave you here like this.”

For a brief moment, you forgot you were pregnant. You scoffed. “I’ve had jet lag before, babe. I think I’ll be okay.”

“No! Pregnant.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running her hands through your hair as you moved to rest your head on her lap.

“I’m fine, Em,” you assured her. “I’m a little tired and sore, but that’s probably just from moving.”

“Maybe I should call and tell them I can’t make it in today…” She was speaking more to herself than to you.

Your voice was stern, decisive. “You can’t take off work for nine months just to sit around and watch me be pregnant. Even if you could, I’d rather you take the nine months after the baby’s born.”

She sighed deeply, looking down at you as if she was making the hardest decision of her life.

“You promise to call me if you need anything?” she asked.

“Promise.”

She gently placed your head back on the pillow, then knelt down in front of the bed so her eyes were level with yours.

“Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she whispered. You could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, to make herself feel better about going to work, but she was too worried about you for it to sound anything other than terrified and pitiful.

“Like what?”

“Ladders, lifting things, falling in the shower...”

“Well, I wouldn’t fall in the shower on purpose,” you argued.

“Just…” She leaned forward and kissed you so gently, so softly, running her thumb slowly along your brow bone. “Be careful. Be safe.” She stood, then leaned down to kiss you on the head one more time.

“I love you,” she said, then lifted up your shirt to kiss your stomach. “And I love you.” She shot you one last desperate, anxious look before leaving.

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Go, Emily.” You shooed her out of the room, laughing. Who would’ve guessed that managing your wife might be the hardest part of being pregnant?

Week 7: The Blueberry (18+)

You leaned back into Emily as the warm water swirled around you, the sound of the jets and the movement of the water soothing your aching body. Morning sickness had started in full force, and your abs were sore from mornings spent heaving over the toilet. Your head was killing you most of the time, and you were constantly bloated. All in all, the first trimester was kicking your ass.

Emily kissed your shoulder, pressing her face next to yours and wrapping her arms around you to gently cup your breasts, mindful of the pain you’d been experiencing.

You sighed contentedly as she ran a thumb lightly over your swollen nipple.

“Better?” she asked.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, eyes closed. When Emily had called this afternoon to check on you, you’d told her how gross you felt from puking all morning, how sore your body was. She’d stopped at Bath & Body Works on the way home to buy every single kind of bath bomb they sold, just to be sure you’d have a fragrance that didn’t make you feel sick. She’d brought Epsom salts and fancy body butters and a new candle because the one you usually had in the bathroom smelled like coffee, and coffee triggered your gag reflex right now. She’d come determined to do whatever it took to help you feel better.

“And to think you said paying more for an apartment with a fancy jacuzzi bathroom was, and I quote, fucking dumb.”

“I take it all back,” you said, whining softly and involuntarily pushing your hips forward as Emily continued circling your nipples, her touch light as a feather.

“Honey,” Emily breathed behind you. “You can say no, but…” Her breath was hot against your ear. “Can I touch you?”

Your body wanted it, but your mind was struggling. “I don’t know, Em…”

Emily gently turned your body around so she could look in your eyes, her thumbs running back and forth along your hands. She leaned close, placing a hand gently on your cheek.

“It’s okay if you really don’t want to, but..” She watched you squirm a bit under the water. “It feels like you do. Can you tell me what’s going on in your head?”

You avoided her eyes, following a stream of bubbles as it made its way around the tub. “I don’t feel very pretty…” you mumbled, looking away.

“What?” she said, and you couldn’t tell if she hadn’t heard you or if she couldn’t believe what you’d said.

“I don’t feel very pretty. I feel gross.”

“Y/N.” Her voice was heavy with love and care and you felt a little like crying, not because you were sad, but because she loved you so much it was overwhelming in your current hormonal state.

Emily pulled you onto her lap and wrapped her arms around your body, pressing kisses into your face and neck. “You are so pretty. What are you talking about?”

“I’m pukey and bloated and my hair is greasy because I’m too tired to shower,” you confessed, resting your head on her shoulder. “I feel disgusting.”

“Baby,” she said, chastising you and gently guiding your face so you had to look at her. “You’re beautiful. You’re growing a whole human right now. You’re incredible. You have never been more beautiful to me.”

Almost unconsciously, you started to grind your hips into Emily’s, your breath coming fast, rhythmic. You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck.

Emily grinned. The words were working! She left a trail of kisses along your shoulder, placing her hands on your hips to guide you.

“You are stunning, Y/N. You’re growing eyes for our baby this week, did you know that?" She thought for a moment, morbid curiosity getting the better of her. "I wonder what it looks like in there…”

You stopped abruptly, as if a record had been scratched. “Not sexy, Emily. I don’t want you thinking about what the inside of my uterus looks like.”

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, an embarrassed smile playing on her lips. You pressed your hands to the side of her face and kissed her, your body hungry for hers for the first time since you’d returned from London. You couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough.

“Emily,” you said breathlessly, pulling away to look at her. She was nearly as out of breath as you were–and significantly more flushed. “Touch me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Please.”

You whimpered as Emily’s thumb brushed over your clit, the warm water soft and comforting around you. She rubbed slow, indulgent circles, sensitive to your sensitivity, and your hips rose to meet her each time, even as exhausted as you were.

She kissed you deeply, passionately, her tongue desperate and gentle as it roamed your mouth, your neck. You moaned into her as she slipped two fingers inside of you, your body pulsing urgently around her. She kept her hand still for the most part, letting you control how hard, how fast, how deep.

As your breath grew ragged and your body clenched, surging against Emily’s, she moaned into your mouth, pressing into you. “Oh, god,” you breathed, Emily’s sounds nearly driving you over the edge.

“Come on, baby,” she begged, gasping. “Come for me.”

You drove your hips into Emily as your body convulsed, whimpering while your orgasm washed over you like a waterfall of static electricity. She fucked you through it, only removing her fingers when your breath started to calm and you fell against her, spent.

“Feel better?” she asked, kissing the side of your head, and pushing a string of wet hair out of your face.

You nodded, still too out of breath to speak.

You dragged yourself into a sitting position a few minutes later. “Here,” you said, clearly exhausted. “Let me do you.”

“It’s okay,” Emily told you, grinning.

“I can,” you insisted, pulling her toward you for a kiss.

“No, Y/N,” she said, laughing a bit as she pulled away. “I’m good. As in, I already came.”

“What!?” You giggled, blushing a bit. “Jesus Christ, Em! You were horny as fuck.”

She blushed and kissed you again, then poured some shampoo into her hand and grabbed your head playfully. You sighed happily as she massaged it into your scalp.

“I can’t help it,” she shrugged. “Look at you. Your boobs are fucking huge right now.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.”

Emily stared at you for a minute. Your soapy head. Your arms crossed defiantly over your chest. The slight pouch in your stomach that she knew would grow into her child. The way your eyes shone, holding so much love, so much purity of spirit and heart. What had she done to deserve you? She felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and she used her thumb to wipe them away.

“Are you crying?!” you asked, leaning forward to take her hand in yours.

“I just love you so much,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Oh, god,” you complained, sniffling yourself. You had a hair trigger for crying these days. “If you cry I’m gonna cry.”

She exhaled firmly. “I’m pulling it together, don’t worry.”

“I love you, too,” you said quickly before dunking your head under the water to get rid of the suds. And because if you thought about it too much, you'd start sobbing and god knows when you'd stop.

You popped back up, flipping your hair over so you looked like a founding father. Emily laughed, and all was right in the world.

[bingwriterxo]

moth to a flame

pairing: amber freeman x reader, minor wes hicks x reader

summary: in which you get a new boyfriend, yet he's not who you really want

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, talks of homophobia, cheating

word count: 1000+

author's note: loosely based on 'moth to a flame' by swedish house mafia & the weeknd. writing mojo's back, babyyyy 🤠

“So,” Mindy started as she slammed her hands down on the lunch table, her eyes sparkling with an excitement that made Amber want to puke, “let’s talk about the happy, new couple!” She climbed into her seat and whipped her head around. “Coast is clear. Thoughts, everyone?”

Liv piped up first. “I think they’re adorable!”

“Yeah,” Chad agreed, grinning. “They’re cute together.”

“I’m just happy that Y/N is happy,” Tara said. She shrugged and added, as an afterthought, “Wes, too, I guess.”

Amber scoffed and crossed her arms, sitting up a little straighter when everyone looked at her. “Are you idiots blind? Wes is a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend.” She narrowed her eyes at her friends as disgust boiled beneath her skin. “He’s not nearly good enough for Y/N.”

Mindy rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. “You don’t think anyone’s good enough for her, Amber. You said that about her last three boyfriends.”

Amber nodded. “Yeah, and I was right. They all ended up being abusive assholes.” Even just mentioning your ex-boyfriends left a bad taste in her mouth and ignited a murderous flame in her chest. Oh, what she’d give to teach all of them a lesson. 

“Okay,” Liv began, a little hesitant, “but we know Wes, and he’s good for her! He’s the sweet ‘boy-next-door’ type.”

“Yeah,” Tara said. “He’d never hurt a hair on Y/N’s head. Not like…” She trailed off, and the silence of the group spoke for itself. Amber clenched her jaw at the thought. “Besides, she was so happy to tell us about the relationship! They both were.” She reached out and placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “She’s in good hands, Amber.”

“Yeah, right,” Amber muttered. “If he so much as touches her, I’ll--”

“Who’re you threatening today, Ambs?” Your teasing voice interrupted the girl’s warning, and she looked up at you, smiling, before her face fell upon seeing Wes beside you, a grin pulling at his own lips. She swore she could feel bile rise in the back of her throat when she realized that the two of you were holding hands. “Someone good, I hope,” you said, chuckling. 

You fell into the seat beside Mindy, greeting the rest of the table, and Wes was left to sit across from Amber, shifting uncomfortably beneath her stare. 

“Yeah,” Amber said, smirking at the blonde boy. “Someone real good.”

* * *

“Jesus Christ!” Amber groaned as she reached for her phone, which had been ringing non-stop for minutes. “Can’t a girl just get some sleep?” With her eyes half-closed, she answered the call, barking out, “What?” and almost immediately regretting it when your teary voice echoed through the phone. 

“Ambs,” you whispered.

She shot up, her eyes wide and worried, her heart pounding in her chest. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I--” You hesitated, and Amber could feel her stomach drop when you sniffled. “Can I come over? It’s my parents.”

Half of her wanted to snark, “Why don’t you call Wes?”, but the other half of her--the half she knew she’d listen to--just wanted to hold you in her arms and keep you safe. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Come over.”

When you hung up, telling her you’d be there in ten minutes, Tara’s voice started to ring through her head: she’s in good hands, Amber. A small, tiny, minuscule part of her that she’d never admit existed almost felt bad for the boy. 

* * *

As soon as you arrived, you were crawling beneath Amber’s blankets and wrapping your arms around her waist, your face nuzzling into her neck as you inhaled her scent. She was holding you just as tightly, glad that your tears had subsided in the time it had taken for you to cross town. 

“You okay, baby?” Amber asked, her voice loud in the otherwise silent room. 

You hummed, shuffling even closer to her. “Better now,” you confessed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed deeply. “They’re just fighting again. It’s whatever.”

Amber hated when you did that--when you’d brush off the troubles that were going on at home, when you’d brush off your own feelings. Still, there was a flicker of pride in her chest that you had called her rather than Wes.

The two of you settled into comfortable silence for a few minutes, but after a while, Amber could no longer let sleeping dogs lie, and she piped up. 

“So, you and Wes.” Her face soured at the boy’s name, and she could feel you tense in her arms. “We should probably talk about that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked carefully.

“You like him?”

You sat up, and Amber immediately regretted saying anything at all, missing your warmth. “Can we not do this right now?”

She sat up, too, drawing her knees to her chest. “You called me; you were cuddling with me. I think we have to do this right now, Y/N,” she said, tilting her head. She scoffed when you stayed silent. “Of all the boys at Woodsboro, you had to choose one of our friends?”

“He’s safe, Amber. You saw what happened when I chose at random. You saw,” you said, your voice tight and shaky, and Amber glanced away, images of your bruised wrists flashing through her mind. “At least with Wes, I know he won’t hurt me.”

“Why do you have to choose a guy at all?” she asked. “We both know how you really feel, and you don’t feel anything for that boy.”

You hung your head. “I can’t come out,” you whispered. “You know that. You know what my parents would say, what they’d do.” You looked back up at her. “But you’re right: we both do know how I feel, what I feel.” You reached out, fingers skimming over her hand. “For you.”

Amber cursed the butterflies that stirred in her stomach at the touch and bit the inside of her cheek. “You know I already can’t stand Wes, and I really don’t care about his feelings, but if he finds out--”

“He won’t. They never do.” 

“But if he does--”

You interrupted her with a kiss, soft and sweet and loving, and when you pulled away, your forehead pressed against hers, you whispered, “He won’t.”

[butchyeons]

PLEASE write more sub/bottom jeongyeon PLEASE i want that butch obliterated

ask and you shall receive! congrats anon i am using this as a drabble request. lmao, hopefully you won’t mind. i’ve been wanting to write jeongsa for awhile now, so here it is. this will probably be up on ao3 at some point, too. we need more sub jeongyeon, so i hope you enjoy needy loser butch jeongyeon getting absolutely obliterated by her mean femme gf ❤️

party trick

college au jeongsa ig? it’s pure smut. also jihyo’s there for “plot” purposes :)

tags/warnings: mentions of alcohol/semi-drunk sex, pwp, semi-public sex (they’re in a bathroom), mommy kink, jeongyeon gets called puppy idk, verbal humiliation, dirty talk, exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, strap-ons, jeongyeon sucking off the strap. this is crazy icl.

cishet men and minors dni.

———

“Really, Jeongyeon?” Sana huffed out. “We’re at a party. People could catch us.”

The older girl let out a whine, continuing to pull Sana up the stairs. The two of them were at some party in some house on the other side of campus- one of Jihyo’s frat friends had invited them. Quite frankly, it shocked the two of them that they were even told about it. They were pretty well known as the college’s token lesbian couple; the weird-scary-butch music student who was “secretly a man”, and the pretty-ditzy fashion student who was “clearly confused about her sexuality”. They caught a lot of shit for it, tended to stay away from functions such as this one because of it. But hey, they’d never turn down free alcohol. So, after Jihyo begged them to come with her, to just put their resignations aside for a few hours, they did.

The night was fine, the party was booming. A lot of their friends were there, thankfully, which meant they didn’t have to socialize with the straight boys who clearly only wanted them there to watch them make out. There was free food, drinks, questionable music, and a place for them to dance, albeit poorly. What wasn’t to like? It was a good time, and they both needed a break, anyways.

The only problem now was that Jeongyeon was tipsy. And when Jeongyeon was in any way buzzed, she was needy. Not that Sana had an issue with it. She loved to spoil her girl, really. But that was in the sanctity of their own apartment, not some frat house full of a bunch of underage drunk college students puking their brains out.

“Sana- I don’t care.” Jeongyeon said as they got to the top of the stairs. Her words came out slurred, her cheeks bright red as she huffed, looking over at her girlfriend. “I know you wore it. I felt it when you were grinding against me earlier.”

Well. Maybe Sana did want something to happen. She wouldn’t have gone out packing if she didn’t.

“Just because I wore it doesn’t mean you were gonna get anything, Jeongie.”

Jeongyeon whined again, stomping off down the hallway. Sana followed closely behind her, making sure to watch carefully as Jeongyeon tried each and every door until finally, one opened. Before Sana had time to really say anything, the older girl had grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside.

“Please, Sana. I know you. You’re literally my girlfriend.” Jeongyeon huffed out indignantly as she closed and locked the door. “You want it just as bad as I do.”

Sana looked around, examining her surroundings. It was a tiny bathroom, but clearly one that multiple men shared. It was… Well, it was as clean as it possibly could be. Several cans of deodorant strewn across the countertop, toothbrushes everywhere, the vibrations of the music from downstairs causing them to shake with each bass thump. The shower curtain was half open, revealing a hoard of different 3-in-1 shampoo bottles. She was just grateful the toilet seat was closed, and that there was even a toilet brush next to it. Clearly, someone cared. Thank god they did.

However, this was still risky. They were in public- at a party they were clearly only invited to so a bunch of boys could gawk at them, in some sketchy bathroom that wasn’t theirs. Anyone could come up there and find them. Sana had half a mind to put her foot down, to take her girlfriend downstairs and trick her by giving her shots of water so she’d sober up faster; they could go back home and finish things there. But before she had any time to protest, Jeongyeon was already on her knees in front of her, haphazardly grabbing at the front of her skirt.

“I just don’t think we should do this here, baby.” Sana said, swatting at Jeongyeon’s hands.

Jeongyeon pouted again, leaning her head against Sana’s thigh.

“Please? ‘S your fault I’m needy. You wore it, you knew I’d want it…”

All of Sana’s reluctance went out the window the moment she looked down at Jeongyeon. She had the sweetest pout on her face, her bottom lip poking out just slightly so. Her big eyes were round with want, her cheeks still slightly red from the alcohol. She was adorable.

Sana wanted to ruin her.

“And I’ve been so good lately…” Jeongyeon added as she nuzzled her face against Sana’s thigh. “Please, mommy?”

God. She just couldn’t resist her sweet girl.

“Fine, fine- just…” Sana sighed. “You have to be quiet, okay? And we need to do this fast.”

Jeongyeon’s expression lit up.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be so good Sana- so good for you.”

Cute. And incredibly fuckable.

“I know you will, baby.” Sana whispered, running her fingers through Jeongyeon’s hair. “Always so good for me, hm?”

Jeongyeon nodded absentmindedly, going back to what she was doing before. She hooked her fingers under the waistband of Sana’s skirt, pulling it down. The outline of the strap was so clearly visible in the pair of safety shorts she was wearing in lieu of actual underwear, which made Jeongyeon chuckle.

“I don’t know how you even manage to hide that thing.” She muttered, pulling the shorts down, too.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to be the only one who gets to see.” Sana replied, kicking the offending fabric away.

Jeongyeon’s hazy eyes immediately focused on the toy. Sana had worn her favorite- a medium-sized, realistic looking one that matched her skin tone. It wasn’t extraordinary in any way, and they had other, much more fun toys, but it never failed to make Jeongyeon scream. Sana didn’t miss how her girlfriend quickly ran her tongue over her bottom lip, her expression completely blank with want. Her body trembled just slightly as she finally looked up at Sana, locking eyes with her.

She was being good. She was waiting for permission.

“Go on, baby.” Sana whispered. “Suck it.”

And Jeongyeon did. Within seconds, her mouth was on Sana, making a show of swirling her tongue around the head before taking the rest of it into her mouth. Even though Sana couldn’t actually feel it, the sight alone was enough to make her stomach tense up, a jolt of pleasure going straight to her core.

“Good girl.” Sana said, her hand finding the top of Jeongyeon’s hair, her fingers tangling into her freshly dyed blue locks. “Mommy’s good girl.”

She helped guide Jeongyeon up and down on the toy, resisting the urge to buck her hips. Jeongyeon’s moves were sloppy, still remotely tipsy as she worked, drool spilling out of the corner of her mouth as she stared up at Sana the entire time she sucked her off. It was gross, it was still so unsafe. At any point someone could absolutely be banging on that bathroom door, trying to get inside.

Sana loved all of it.

So yes, she did want something to happen. Maybe not this exact scenario, but something. It had been weeks since her and Jeongyeon had gotten to do anything, and honestly, Sana had planned to rail her brains out in the backseat of her car after they left. But this would work.

“Mommy…” Jeongyeon whined around the head, her mouth muffled from having the toy between her lips. “Need you in me…”

This would definitely work.

Sana finally pulled her off, a string of spit connecting Jeongyeon’s mouth to the toy. The older girl was looking at her with so much want, her expression dazed as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. She adjusted herself so that she could press her thighs together, whimpering as she stared up at her girlfriend. Sana tried to ignore how the sight made her core ache, still wanting to get this done quickly.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been good, c’mon.”

Sana helped Jeongyeon to her feet, her hands immediately finding the buckle of her belt, making quick work of undoing it. She pressed a gentle kiss to Jeongyeon’s cheek, not wanting to smear her lipstick, before tugging her jeans and boxers down to her knees.

“Against the counter, baby. Show me that pretty ass of yours.” She whispered, her hand on Jeongyeon’s waist.

Jeongyeon just nodded absentmindedly, doing exactly what she was told. She held on to the edge of the countertop, leaning forward. Sana got behind her, her hand slipping down between her thighs, gently running her fingers through Jeongyeon’s folds. She gave her clit a few taps with her index finger before lazily circling it, making sure to focus on the sensitive spot under the hood. When Jeongyeon’s knees buckled slightly, she drug her finger down to her entrance, dipping it in just enough to tease the poor girl even more.

“Fuck, Jeongyeonie.” Sana taunted. “Already so wet for me.”

Jeongyeon just whined, looking back over her shoulder.

“N-Need you, please…”

It would be so easy to keep teasing her. It was fun to make Jeongyeon work for it- to have her broken before Sana ever even fucked her. But when she saw the look on Jeongyeon’s face, the sound of the loud music echoing up the stairwell and into the hallway, she remembered they really needed to get this done. Sana had no intention of denying her anything. Right then, she couldn’t. Even if she wanted to.

“I know, baby. I know.” Sana whispered, taking her hand away and finally lining the toy up with Jeongyeon’s entrance. “It’s okay. I’ll take such good care of you, puppy.”

Sana moved her hand to hold onto Jeongyeon’s hip, finally pressing the toy into her. A loud moan spilled out of the older girl’s mouth, and Sana’s grip tightened just a bit as she froze.

“Jeong- you need to be quiet. Or else you won’t get anything.”

Jeongyeon just bit her lower lip, nodding desperately. That was good enough for Sana, who took it as a sign to press herself in further. Jeongyeon leaned forward even more, giving Sana a better angle. The moment Sana was all the way in, Jeongyeon let out a sigh, her eyes falling shut as she pushed herself back against Sana, grinding against the toy. Normally Sana would’ve reprimanded her, reminded her that she would take what was given to her, but she’d give her a pass. For now, anyways.

“Feeling better, baby?” Sana cooed, gripping Jeongyeon’s hips tighter, but still not moving. “Such a little slut, couldn’t wait ‘til we got home?”

She’d play with her just a little, though.

Jeongyeon shook her head. Sana gave her a shallow thrust, pressing the toy impossibly deeper and earning a squeak from the older girl.

“N-No, couldn’t wait-” Jeongyeon whined. “Mommy, please-”

Sana cut her off by giving her another harsh thrust. Jeongyeon couldn’t help but grunt, whimpering as she fell forward onto her forearms. Sana finally took off, bucking her hips roughly, as fast as she possibly could. She watched Jeongyeon through the mirror, practically grinning at how her jaw would clench and release each time she pushed back in. It was the prettiest sight in the world, to her. The sounds of skin against skin filled the tiny bathroom, echoing over the music from below. Sana didn’t care at that point- she needed to absolutely ruin her girl.

“God, puppy, you’re so easy, y’know that?” Sana huffed out between thrusts. “So fucking- easy to get all worked up.”

Jeongyeon nodded, completely brainless as she groaned. Sana had no idea if it was the alcohol or the fact that she was being fucked, but either way, she was gone.

“So fun to play with.” Sana added, reaching up to grab Jeongyeon’s hair, pulling the shivering girl up. “So desperate to cum, aren’t you? That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes- fuck.” Jeongyeon croaked out. “All I want- wanna cum for you.”

Sana thrusted again, even deeper this time. Jeongyeon moaned unabashedly, arching back into Sana’s grip. Sana continued to hold her up by her hair, her other hand still hanging onto her hip. She dug her nails into the soft skin, earning yet another pathetic noise out of her girlfriend.

So much for getting this done quietly. Sana really didn’t give a single shit anymore, couldn’t. Even if she tried. And she was absolutely not trying.

“So fucking loud.” Sana hissed, her pace never letting up. “Bet you want us to get caught. I bet you’d love if someone walked in on us like this- you want everyone to see me ruining you, don’t you?”

Jeongyeon did her best to nod, her eyes still screwed shut.

“P-Please, I want- want everyone to know I’m your- your slutty little puppy. Hope all of them can hear me, hope they all know just how good you fuck me.”

Sana could really feel it then. She knew she was fucking dripping, felt the way her clit pulsed each time she fucked herself into Jeongyeon. And to hear that, on top of everything else? Oh, this was so much better than she ever could’ve imagined. To have Jeongyeon so willing to be ruined, to know she wants to be caught. To be absolutely railing her in some nasty frat boy bathroom, to know that those boys would never know what happened in there. Sana wondered if she’d finish without Jeongyeon ever even touching her. They’d never done anything like this before, so she had no idea how Jeongyeon felt about it. But fuck, was it good. They should go to parties more often.

She thrusted again, knowing she hit the spot that Jeongyeon loved the most just based on her reaction. The older girl cried out, her body practically going limp as Sana begin to focus on that spot, hitting it over and over and over again. Another whimper spilled from Jeongyeon’s lips as Sana finally let go of her hair, using that hand to reach around to her front, slipping it between her hips and the counter. She found Jeongyeon’s clit and quickly began rubbing tight circles into it, earning another languid sound out of her. Her knees buckled, her hips pressed back, her body falling back against Sana’s front right as she-

“Sana? Jeongyeon? Are you two up here?”

Both of them froze. They stared at each other in the mirror, horrified as they heard footsteps approaching.

“C’mon guys, I’m worried. You’ve been gone for so long.”

Jihyo.

Jeongyeon was the first to move, trying to pull away.

“Sana-”

Sana didn’t let her go.

“That’s not my name, puppy.”

Jeongyeon bit her lip, hard enough that Sana was almost concerned she’d break the skin. Her face was bright red, her expression pained. Sana cocked her head to the side, smirking as she rocked her hips again. Jeongyeon leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter, doing her best to contain a whimper.

“W-What are you doing?” She whispered, her voice laced with panic.

“Thought you wanted to get caught, baby.” Sana replied, leaning forward so her lips were right next to Jeongyeon’s ear. “Or were you lying to me?”

Right as Sana bucked her hips again, there was a knock on the door.

“Sana, Jeongyeon- is that you guys?” Jihyo asked from the other side.

This made things so much more fun.

Jeongyeon pushed herself back up, her brows threading together at the sensation of Sana getting pushed deeper inside her because of the movement. Sana quickly reached up, cupping her mouth with one hand, her other hand starting to rub her clit again, even fucking harder than before.

“Yeah- sorry, Jeongyeon got sick.” Sana replied evenly, raising her voice just loud enough so Jihyo could hear. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Oh, oh god- do you need help?” Jihyo asked, concerned. She started to fidget with the doorknob. “Here, let me in-”

“No, it’s okay!” Sana replied, pressing her fingers down harder.

Jeongyeon’s body shuddered, a small squeak escaping her lips. Sana clamped her hand down even harder.

“Are you sure? Did she throw up or something?” Jihyo asked.

“Yeah- she drank too much. It’s okay though, promise! I’ve got it handled.” Sana answered, her voice still completely calm as she continued to work at Jeongyeon. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

By then, Jeongyeon’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head. Her body was completely limp as she laid against Sana, letting the younger girl do whatever she pleased. Each pass of her fingers over the sensitive nub caused Jeongyeon to tremble, her hips jerking, the toy that was still nestled inside her pressing even deeper. Jihyo was still standing at the door, the floor creaking each time she shifted her weight, seemingly unaware about what the two of them were actually doing. The whole scene was fucking absurd.

But clearly, Jeongyeon was enjoying this. And Sana was, too.

“I mean- I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” Jihyo said. “I can help if you need!”

Sana needed to push it even further.

“Jeongyeonie.” She whispered, just loud enough for only the two of them to hear.

Jeongyeon finally came to, blinking a few times before looking at her in the mirror again. She didn’t reply, couldn’t.

“You gonna cum just like this?” Sana murmured, smirking. “With my cock so deep in you while your best friend is right outside that door?”

Jeongyeon exhaled deeply, a moment passing before she nodded rapidly. Sana bucked her hips again, the hand that was still working at her clit pressing down even harder. The tiny bathroom was practically shaking from the music downstairs, just loud enough to muffle everything.

It was the perfect opportunity to test Jeongyeon’s limits.

“Bet you want her to see you like this, huh?” Sana pressed further. “Want her to watch as your mommy absolutely ruins you? Want her to know just how much of a disgusting little slut you really are?”

The faintest whine escaped Jeongyeon’s lips, her fists clenching at her sides, tears welling in her eyes as they fell closed again. Sana had her right where she wanted her.

“I could reach over and open that door right now, if I really wanted to. Let Jihyo watch you right as you broke. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Jeongyeon just kept nodding, grinding her hips back against Sana’s front. After a particularly harsh movement, she shuddered.

“C-Close.” She managed to whisper through gritted teeth, her voice still muffled by Sana’s hand. “Mommy, please let me cum. Please.”

So fucking filthy.

“Go ahead, baby.” Sana said, her voice coming out honey-sweet next to Jeongyeon’s ear. “Cum for me. And for her, too. Put on a show for us, puppy.”

Jeongyeon just kept nodding as she rocked her hips back in perfect timing with Sana’s fingers swiping under the hood of her clit. The sensation of it made Jeongyeon finally break, her jaw falling open in a silent scream as she trembled violently. Sana quickly moved her hand from her mouth down, wrapping it around her waist to keep her upright. Her other hand stayed pressed against the now very swollen bundle of nerves, rubbing gentle circles into it to help guide Jeongyeon through. Sana pressed a few kisses to the side of her face, not really minding the lipstick smears it left behind.

When Jeongyeon finally came back down to earth, her breath evening out and her body shuddering from the overstimulation, Sana pulled away. She finally stepped back, ungluing herself from the older girl as she slowly pulled the strap out of her. Jeongyeon did her best to hold back a whimper at the feeling, leaning forward to hold the countertop.

Talk about a show.

“So good.” Sana whispered, helping Jeongyeon get her clothes back on. “Did so good, Jeongie.”

Jeongyeon finally turned around, facing the younger girl. Her face and neck were red, her forehead covered in sweat, lipstick marks all over her cheek. She leaned back against the counter, a blissed out smile on her lips as she held her arms out for Sana. The whole scene was beyond cheesy, even for Sana’s hopelessly romantic self. But the moment Jeongyeon finally opened her now watery eyes, tilting her head to the side just like a little puppy expecting a treat, Sana couldn’t resist. She’d really never be able to resist her sweet girl.

She let Jeongyeon pull her in by her waist, trying her best to not let the stupid strap get in the way. Eventually she just gave up, choosing to settle between Jeongyeon’s legs, the toy awkwardly pressing against the older girl’s stomach. Both of them giggled softly as they kissed, Sana smiling brightly against Jeongyeon’s lips.

But, of course, the moment she opened her mouth to say something, that’s when Jihyo knocked on the door again. Go figure.

“Yah! Sana?” Jihyo asked. “You promise she’s alright?”

“She’s good, Ji! She’s so good!” Her voice dropped, low enough for only the two of them to hear, her thumbs coming up to wipe a few lingering tears away from the corners of Jeongyeon’s eyes. “So, so good.”

“Alright.” Jihyo said, clearly annoyed. “I’m gonna go wait downstairs. Nayeon wants to leave when you two get back, but take your time.”

“We’ll be down in a few minutes!” Sana said, cupping Jeongyeon’s face in her hands as she ran her thumbs across the apples of her cheeks. “Just need some time alone, okay?”

“Whatever you say, girl.” Jihyo said, her voice a bit distant, as if she was facing away from the door. “I’d have left her to die, personally.”

Jeongyeon couldn’t help but snort. Sana rolled her eyes.

“And that’s why you’re the best friend and I’m the girlfriend, Park Jihyo!”

“Yah! As if I’d ever want to date that!” Jihyo argued back. There was a small sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re a saint, really, Sana. You’re really good to her.”

Sana looked up at Jeongyeon with a soft smile. The older girl just nodded before leaning in to peck her lips again. A few moments passed before, finally, Jihyo walked away. Sana and Jeongyeon both let out the breath they’d been holding for what felt like hours, sighing with relief as they held each other.

“How you feeling?” Sana whispered, laying her head against Jeongyeon’s shoulder.

“Incredibly sober.” She answered dryly. “But good. That was… Fun. Very fun.”

“You seemed to really enjoy it, baby.” Sana teased, earning a small noise of protest from her girlfriend. “We’ll have to have a talk about all of that later. Didn’t know you had all that in you.”

“God- I know, I know. Really, I didn’t know I did.” Jeongyeon huffed out, wrapping her arms around Sana’s waist even tighter than before. “And frankly, I didn’t know you did, either.”

Jeongyeon shifted just a bit, grimacing.

“I’m gonna be sore for days.”

“Aw, but you like that.”

“I do. Only for you, though.”

Sana looked up at her, squinting.

“Better not be for anyone else.” She said, her cheeks puffed out with a pout. “You’re mine, Jeongyeonie.”

Jeongyeon just smiled, rolling her eyes.

“I’m yours. No one else’s.”

They kissed a few more times before Sana finally pulled away, reminding Jeongyeon that they had to leave. And, reminding her that they were very much not finished. Jeongyeon awkwardly stared at the floor, her cheeks turning red when Sana casually guided one of her hands down between her thighs, allowing her to feel just how wet she was. Jeongyeon repeatedly reassured her she’d handle it the moment they got home as she took the toy out of the harness and washed it in the sink. Sana stayed pressed against her back the entire time, watching her work.

It was cute how embarrassed Jeongyeon got after everything was said and done. She whined when Sana looked over her shoulder, told her to go away, tried to make it so Sana couldn’t see what she was doing. It was adorable. Her big, strong butch that was secretly the neediest person on the whole planet. No one got to see that side of her, only Sana. And Sana loved her more than anything or anyone else.

The two of them slightly panicked when they couldn’t find anything to dry the toy off with. Sana started opening cabinets, thankfully stumbling across a roll of paper towels underneath the sink. They awkwardly dried the toy off, putting it back in the harness, and Sana turned around so Jeongyeon couldn’t see her tucking the toy back into her shorts. The older girl whined, wanting to know how Sana did it, but Sana just shooed her away as she finally pulled her skirt back up. She had her secrets, always had to keep Jeongyeon guessing, after all.

“You have to act like you were in here puking when we go back downstairs.” Sana said as she took a wet paper towel to Jeongyeon’s cheek, wiping the lipstick stains off. She ran her hand through Jeongyeon’s hair, ruffling it just a bit. “Good thing you already look a little disheveled.”

“Hey-” Jeongyeon pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means-” Sana said as she threw the paper towel away. “You look fucked out, baby.”

Jeongyeon mashed her lips together, her cheeks turning red as she looked down at the floor. There was no way in hell she was gonna let this incident go, but she’d teased enough already. They had other things to be doing, anyways.

“It’s cute.” Sana said, cupping Jeongyeon’s cheek. “You’re cute.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

She smiled softly.

“I love you. Thanks for this.”

“I love you, too.” Sana replied, patting down her skirt before giving herself one last look over in the mirror.

Before she could say anything, Jeongyeon had already pulled her lipstick out of the pocket of her jeans. She silently handed it over to Sana, who quickly reapplied it, making sure she looked remotely decent. The moment she put the cap back on, Jeongyeon was already taking it back from her, sliding it back into her pocket (with the rest of Sana’s “necessities”) for safekeeping.

Jeongyeon was just as good to her, really. So, so good.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, baby.” She said, finally turning around and nudging Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Now c’mon. You owe me big time for this little stunt.”

Jeongyeon couldn’t argue with that. In fact, she had other ideas of what she could be doing instead- ones that would be way better done in their own bed back at their place. Sana gave her a quick kiss before finally pulling her out of the bathroom, the sounds of the party becoming much more clear and bright as they stepped into the hallway. There were cheers of students clearly playing some game, the sound of music and laughter spilling up the stairs. Sana gave Jeongyeon one last look, smiling coyly. Jeongyeon shook her head incredulously before going to lean on Sana’s shoulder, making sure they’d be able to fake their way out of anyone questioning if she was really sick or not.

So maybe frat parties weren’t that bad. If it meant they’d get to do that again, they’d definitely be going. For the free booze, they’d say. But hopefully no one would ever find out why they were really there.

[narumi-gens]

Drunk Mind, Sober Heart

Miya Atsumu x gn!Reader

summary: They say that drunk words are sober thoughts. Unfortunately for you, that means Atsumu is about to find out about your big, embarrassing secret.

warnings: pure fluff, reader is a drunk mess, mention of vomiting and alcohol, husband!atsumu, established relationship, you and atsumu are simps for each other

notes: we’re back on the haikyuu train! I’m actually not sure if I like this but just wanted to get it out of my wips since it was already 75% written.

words: 1.2k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

Atsumu hadn’t left you alone for long, just long enough to grab his phone charger from the nightstand. He was gone for a minute, maybe two. What could go wrong in a minute?

Apparently a lot. 

You’re still in the same spot that he left you. You’re still curled up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet. You’re still clutching tightly onto the pillow he gave you to keep you from being too uncomfortable on the hard tile. 

But when he left, you were completely passed out, drunkenly snoring and giving him a short break from “rubbing your back and making sure that you’re throwing up in the toilet and not on the floor” duty.

Now, you’re sobbing loudly into your pillow as you lay in a puddle of water, having knocked over the uncapped bottle he had set aside for you. 

The sight instantly has him panicking, dropping his charger onto the counter and kneeling down next to you in the puddle. He picks up the bottle and sets it aside, not that doing so is much use considering most of the water is now on the bathroom floor.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he tries to gently shush you. “What’s wrong? Do ya gotta puke again?”

It seems to be the wrong question to ask because it only has you crying harder. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, running his hand soothingly up and down your side. 

“S’not!” you wail and Atsumu finds himself impressed by his own sense of hearing to have been able to comprehend what you’re saying through your sobs.

“Yeah, it is. C’mon, it’s alright,” he says, still doing his best to try and talk you down. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

“No!” you continue to protest, burying your face even further into your pillow. Your sobs have devolved into loud, pathetic hiccups. “Don’t wanna tell you. S’embarrassing…”

“Ya don’t gotta feel embarrassed!” he says. “At least ya puked in the bushes and not in the Uber. Yer ahead of me on that one.”

“No! S’not that!” you argue, looking up from your pillow to give him a pitiful glare that makes you look like an angry kitten. Atsumu is overcome with the urge to grab his phone so he can take a picture but knows that it would send you into another fit of sobs.

“Then what is it?” he asks patiently and you flop onto your back, your head resting on your pillow as you frown at the ceiling. 

“M’embarrassed,” you sniffle, tears continuing to leak from your eyes. 

“Baby, about what?”

Your features scrunch together unattractively before you cover your face with your hands. 

“I’m so in love with you that it’s embarrassing!” you cry, your voice muffled, and Atsumu is at a loss at your…confession. It takes a moment before he knows how to respond.

“…we’ve been married fer two years,” he says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I would hope ya love me.”

“You don’t get it!” you whine, dropping your hands and doing your best to sit up and face him, although you end up needing to rest your entire weight on the toilet. “It’s like I have this huuuuge crush on you.”

He can feel the grin threatening to break out across his lips and quickly bites down on the inside of his cheek before it can. Instead, he reaches out a hand to affectionately play with the ends of your hair only for you to weakly slap him away.

“Sometimes when you send me a text saying you love me, I squeal into a pillow,” you softly tell him through sniffles, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “And sometimes I just look through my pictures of you and get all flustered.”

The grin he was trying so hard to hold back begins to peek through and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to hide it. Thankfully, you’re too drunk to notice. 

“And it’s so embarrassing to be such a mess in front of my crush,” you pout before wiping your messy face with the back of your wrist, not that it really does any good.

“Ya don’t gotta feel embarrassed about any of it,” he repeats with a fond look. “If anything, this makes me love ya even more.”

Your expression finally seems to soften, your drunken angst beginning to fade into something much more shy.

“Really?” you ask through another sniffle.

“Yeah, I promised to love ya in sickness and in health, didn’t I?” he smiles and you giggle.

But before he can make a dumb joke about drunkenness being the worst kind of sickness out there, a look that he’s become only too familiar with over the last few hours crosses your face. You rush to turn away from him and he’s back on “rubbing your back and making sure that you’re throwing up in the toilet and not on the floor” duty.

The next morning sees you doing better, but not by much. The lights in the apartment are all off and the blinds on all of the windows are closed. The only source of light comes from the tv, which is quietly playing some trashy reality show that’s ostensibly about selling real estate but is actually about who’s sleeping with the owner of the brokerage. 

The duvet from your bed is wrapped around you like a burrito as you’re laid out pathetically on the couch with a sports drink clutched tightly in your grip like a lifeline. You’re grateful that Atsumu keeps so many of them in the refrigerator and you swear to yourself that you won’t make fun of him anymore for how much space they take up.

You’re roused from wallowing over your pitiful state when you hear the front door opening and you slouch further into the couch. But when Atsumu finally appears around the corner, your face lights up as you see that he’s proudly holding up a takeout bag coated in grease stains. 

“I got ya just what the doctor prescribed,” he grins and you sit up as best you can with the blanket wrapped so tightly around you. 

“Oh, you’re a godsend,” you moan as you grab the bag from his hands. You open it and happily inhale the scent of the burger and fries inside. 

He preens at your praise and lifts your legs so that he can sit down beside you before setting them down in his lap. You’re too busy shoveling the fries into your mouth to even care. But after a few minutes, you feel his gaze on you.

When you look up, you freeze at the sight of him watching you with big heart eyes and a wide, dopey grin. 

“What?” you ask him through an unattractive mouthful of half-eaten fries. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugs. However, the look on his face says anything but and your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Just, I heard from a little birdie that ya got a pretty big crush.”

Your hand pauses in mid-air, halfway to shoving another handful of fries into your already full mouth. Atsumu’s grin grows wider at your reaction.

“Y’know, I got a pretty big crush too.”

All you can do is mutter in embarrassment what he thinks is, “shut up,” but sounds like “shha amph,” as you refuse to meet his gaze and Atsumu feels his crush on you growing bigger, even as he laughs obnoxiously in your face. 

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @lulusplaycorner, @psychokinetic-ectoplasm, @theselfshippingwitch

warnings: swearing, menstruation, mention of vomit

The bathroom door opened as I sighed. My head was tilted back against the cool shower tiles as the hot water beat down on me. Through the foggy glass, I watched as Ray assessed the damage in the room.

"What happened?" He asked, voice soft as he looked around the room before staring at my outline through the glass. "Looks like a tornado flew through."

"Not quite." I called out. "I got blood on the rug. And the bathmat. And I'll probably get some on the towel. I'll clean it up. Promise." Ray stepped into the shower, having undressed at some point.

"Hey. Hey. Its ok." He soothed, running his hands over my arms. "It happens. Not like you can control it. A soak for a couple of days should get it right out." I nodded as he leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Cramps?"

"From hell." I muttered as I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood under the water. "I already took something but they haven't gone away. I felt lightheaded earlier too." Ray nodded as he hugged me close. I sighed at the feeling but grimaced as pain rolled through me.

"Seems like this time is worse for some reason." Ray muttered. I nodded against his chest.

"Like I said. From hell." I groaned. "There was a moment before you came in that I thought I was going to throw up I was in so much pain. Still not entirely sure I won't." Ray pulled back to look at me.

"That hasn't happened before." He said, concern on his face. I nodded.

"Once. Before I met you. Like years ago at this point." I explained. "Not the thing with the rug though. That's never happened. Fucking freak of nature thing. But the lightheadedness and the being in so much pain I wanna puke. That's happened." Ray rubbed my back as he kissed my forehead.

"What can I do to make it better?" He asked. I shrugged as I started my shower routine, feeling slightly better now that Ray was here.

"Nothing really." I said with a soft smile. "I know." Ray frowned as he looked me over. "You want to help. I'm in pain and you will whatever you can to help me feel better. But there isn't a whole lot you can do." Ray kissed me softly as he cupped my cheek. "I will tell you that you being here helps though. A lot."

"Then I'll stick around." He promised. "They don't really need me at the firehouse today. Closed the shop because I went there to help out so I'm free the whole day." Ray chuckled and shrugged. "Actually I'm kind of free the whole week. Trevor thought they needed more help than they did so I made sure I was available." I giggled as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Lucky me." I teased as I kissed Ray. "How does watching a movie sound? Whatever you want. Then we can order some take out and just relax."

"That sounds lovely honestly." Ray agreed. "Do you need anything? I can pick it up when I head out to get the take out." I tapped my fingers against his shoulders as I thought.

"I think I'm good but a package of pads wouldn't hurt." I said, finally focusing back on Ray. He nodded.

"Just one?" He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Ok. A couple." I caved, smiling sheepishly at him. "It is a little heavier this time too." Ray nodded, kissing me again. "Damn you. You know me so well."

"I'll grab at least three. Or whatever they have." He promised. "And some candy. And a new movie for you and a new book. I know you've been eyeing that one." I felt my cheeks heat up slightly at how attentive Ray was. "And the take out. But for now..." I nodded.

"Yeah. Finishing showering." I sighed, burying my face in his neck. Ray laughed as he held me close.

"This doesn't feel like finishing a shower." He teased, gently tickling my side.

"Shut up." I laughed. "You're comforting. I need to be comforted." Ray shook his head, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

"Alright. But not too much longer. The water is gonna go cold." He warned. I nodded before pulling away a few minutes later. I stepped back under the water and screamed.

"Holy fucking shit!" I cried as I jumped back into Ray's arms. He laughed as he turned it off.

"Told ya." He smiled as he stepped out of the shower, holding the towel open for me. I glared at him as I followed, letting him wrap the towel around me.

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch15

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, torture, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was abnormally quiet. You had finally been released from the hospital and Miguel was escorting you to the car. It was almost creepy by how quiet the hospital was. Everyone kept silent as Miguel walked out the building.

Slowly entering the car, you rubbed your eyes and let out a soft cheer. Hospitals were never fun. You had enough time within them to hate them. Waiting for Miguel to sit, you scooted beside him and rested your head against his shoulder.

"Conejita (bunny), I'm going to give you a choice. I can drop you off at home to rest, or...you can come watch me torture Eddie. I won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He said softly.

You furrowed your brows as you felt your heart race. You had been in the hospital for three days and Miguel had told you what he had been doing each time. You knew that everyday you were injured, he made sure Eddie received dire punishment.

Part of you was nervous. You really did not want to see Eddie again. Not after everything he has done to you, but...Part of you wants to see Eddie get what he deserves. Would it be so bad to watch your abuser get abused?

"Um...I-I...I don't...k-know how I'll....react....b-but...but I want t-to s-say something...to him," You stuttered, shaking from your nervous. Miguel gently pulled you onto his lap,

"Shh, baby, you don't need to force yourself," Miguel whispered, kissing your nerves away, "You did so well for me already. You just need to watch until you don't want to anymore."

"Mhm," You held onto Miguel, melting under his touch and kisses, "M-Miguel...W-Will....it...be b-bad?" You muffled, moving your head back as he kissed and sucked against it.

"Yes. But I don't do this all the time. Only because he hurt you." Miguel hummed as he rubbed circles around your waist, "I don't want you to think differently of me...when you see the state of that bastard."

"I won't,"

You closed your eyes, enjoying his touches. No matter the outcome, you knew that Miguel could never harm you. No matter how scared you were, you felt safe in Miguel's embrace.

"You seem nervous, why don't I help you...destress?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he raised your skirt. You huffed your cheeks out, slowly giving in,

"O-Okay...B-But...be gentle...I'm still bruised..." You whispered. Miguel kissed your chest, grinding into you,

"Of course,"

----------

Holding onto Miguel as you entered a creepy warehouse, you felt your nerves return. Even after his little 'destress' session in the car. Hearing a scream, you immediately grabbed onto Miguel, hiding behind him as he led the way.

There were men everywhere. Each working on something or standing watch. Miguel asked you to close your eyes for a moment before he grabbed your hands and led you again. Something foul started to fill your nostrils.

You tried to breathe through your mouth, but you felt like puking. You were starting to get dizzy. Miguel must have noticed because he placed your head in his jacket. All you could smell was his cologne now and it eased you.

"We're here. It isn't a pleasant sight, baby." Miguel whispered.

Slowly raising your head, you glanced at two large metal doors. They slowly began to open. Once they were, you shuddered at the sight. There in the middle of the room was Eddie.

His face was unrecognizable and there was blood everywhere. His arms were tied to the ceiling and you swore you saw that his finger's were missing. His legs were broken and dangling as blood trickled down his body.

"Wake him up," Miguel demanded.

You yelped as Eddie screamed as cold water splashed against him. Just hearing his angry yell made you flinch. Acting on instinct, you hid behind Miguel and started to shake. You were terrified. Even as you saw Eddie tied up, you still held the fear of him attacking you.

"Fuck! You fucking asshole!" Eddie screamed. Miguel grinded his teeth as he felt you shake,

"Have you learned nothing?" Miguel asked, his arm snaking around your waist, "There's someone who wants to say something to you."

"Hahaha, what's that bitch going to say?! She's just a dumb little fuck doll." Eddie roared in laughter despite his pain. You felt tears form,

"I-I...I-I don't..." You whimpered but felt Miguel shake in anger, "I-I want him...t-to shut up," You begged. Miguel's lips twitched into a smirk,

"As you wish."

Miguel rubbed his thumbs over your eyes, signaling you to keep them close. He then placed some sort of headphones over your ears. They were soundproof so that you could hear nothing. Miguel hummed as he stole a quick kiss from you and proceeded to head to Eddie.

"She's really got you wrapped around her finger...or is she wrapped around your dick?" Eddie spat, forcing a laugh.

Miguel kept his glare towards Eddie as he kept his hand out. One of his men hurried and placed a knife in Miguel's hand. Ben was in the corner with a sewing kit, waiting for Miguel's order.

"Is shit talking how you ignore pain? We're going to have to take that away." Miguel whispered and slashed Eddie's clothes off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, "You won't be able to do that much longer. (Y/N) demands your silence."

"I don't know what you see in her. She was only good for a quick fuck and her parent's supermarket." Eddie hissed. Miguel scoffed as he pressed the knife against Eddie's shoulder, slicing down, "Fuck!"

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand." He hissed, enjoying the blood drip before slicing another part of his body, "Each mark matches one of hers."

"Argh!! Fuck! Fuck! You're fucking insane! You fucking dick!" Eddie screamed. Miguel nearly laughed as he kept cutting Eddie,

"I'm insane?! (Y/N) should have never felt the need to cut herself! (Y/N) should have never been your stress relief! Each scar, each mark that you gave her...that she gave herself, I want you to have but double. I want you to feel her pain!"

Miguel couldn't help but smile as he listened to Eddie's screams. If only you were okay with hearing them. Miguel wanted you to feel the joy of enjoying his screams. Once Eddie was covered in marks, Miguel stepped back and threw the knife across the room.

With a snap of his fingers, Miguel went to wash his hands as Ben started to sew Eddie's lips shut. Once the deed was done, Miguel returned to you and took the headphones off. He kissed your head, watching you slowly flutter your eyes open,

"Now's your chance to say what you want to say."

"Mhm," You were hesitant, but slowly turned to face Eddie. You felt your stomach twist as you saw his lips sewn, "Y-You...You caused me n-nothing but pain!!! I-I hate y-you so much!!! I-I'm glad you're s-suffering now!!" You cried.

Miguel smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His intense glare towards Eddie, whom returned the same gesture. Miguel decided to have some more fun and kiss your neck and shoulder, smirking.

"Mhpm!" Eddie struggled. You inhaled sharply,

"F-FUCK YOU!!!"

This shocked both Eddie and Miguel. As much as Miguel wanted to laugh, he knew that this was a serious situation for you. Once calm, Miguel grabbed your hands and took you back to the car. You were a crying mess as you kept cussing Eddie out.

"You did good, baby," Miguel whispered. You sobbed, hugging onto Miguel once you got into the car, "Shh, it's okay. You did so good. Let me take you home to rest."

---------

You sniffed as you buried yourself in your plushes and stuffed animals. It was already late at night, but you were having trouble sleeping. You raised your head as Miguel entered the room with a mug in his hands.

"Here, some hot chocolate. This should help you sleep," He whispered, handing you the mug.

"T-Thank you," You whispered, slowly drinking the hot liquid.

"How do you feel?" Miguel asked for probably the tenth time today.

"...I-I want...I want to say ill...b-because even after all that...I-I'm still scared t-that...T-Telling him off...felt so good...S-Seeing him like that felt...good...but...sickening."

"I know. My secret life isn't for the faint of heart. I wanted to keep this side a secret from you, afraid that you'd leave me." Miguel sighed as he sat beside you.

"Miggy," You placed your mug aside and cuddled into his chest, "I-I trust you...so...so much...I don't care what you do...I love you, and I'm so happy...with you," You whispered.

Miguel hummed in response and pecked your lips before stroking your hair. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep. Miguel finally let out a exhale, relieved to hear those words from you. Today made him anxious about your feelings, but you did so well.

"Now, to see how tomorrow will go."

----------

Peter smiled brightly as he arrived in front of a gorgeous house outside the city. He fixed his suit and tie and approached the front door. The first thing he noticed was a small drawing at the bottom of the door. It gave him a light chuckle before ringing the door bell.

"Can I help you?" A man asked as he asked through the intercom. Peter cleared his throat,

"I'm here to escort you to the city for final negotiations with your supermarket." Peter hummed. The door opened, revealing an older couple.

"I thought we already finished negotiations. It was a one and done deal," The man huffed in anger. Peter kept his smile,

"Yes, but our boss always wants to make sure everyone is...happy." Peter lied. The older woman huffed a heavy sigh,

"A drive to city at this hour? You must be mad."

"Oh no, ma'am. Our boss has made a reservation in the finest hotel in the city for you two. He told me to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Well, in that case, I suppose we can go." The woman chirped, hurrying to prep a bag. The husband still scoffed,

"What a pain in the ass."

Peter's smile never faded as he watched the two fools fall into Miguel's trap. Approaching the car, Peter whipped his phone out to send a message to Miguel.

'(Y/N)'s parent's are taking the bait'

Miguel was nowhere near done with your revenge.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy